#god i wish i had the energy to sit down and do more crazy edits

[nanobyting]

2/23/23 hi this has been sitting in my wips for so long i just needed to get it done AAA                                                              ac: forget - pogo (edited) src: cod bocw

[hslotharrie]

To My Best Friend

summary: reader faces quarantine at Harry’s and, turns out, it was exactly what they needed to come clean. also, Anne is the superior Mum.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: completely fluff. with marriage + mentions of family? not edited... when do I ever edit

based off of this ask<3

When you wake, the sun is shining through a slightly opened window in the far left corner of your bedroom. You can hear birds chirping amongst themselves from outside, cars driving far in the distance, it's quiet at Harry's home. Peaceful.

It's been a little more than four months since you and Harry decided to bubble at the beginning of quarantine. What you expected to be a few weeks turned into a lot more, but there were no complaints. Harry has the space, is the type to crave company, and you're his best friend.

Best friend.

You roll in the soft sheets, hugging the covers for a few minutes until you inevitably force yourself to get up for the day. You're not sure what sort of expensive luxury bed set this is, but god, they are comfy. You make a mental note to ask him later.

You zone out again on the soft sounds of the birds and the pleasant cool breeze flowing in through the window. You pull your phone from the bedside table to check the time, 10:56– and the weather, sunny and 78. You consider getting in the pool later.

Harry's phone rings somewhere outside of your room, followed by some muffled mumbling from the man himself signalling that he's awake too. You wonder if he's ate yet; he's a sucker for your omelettes and you're craving one about now.

You climb out of bed,  going to the bathroom to tame your hair and brush your teeth, before heading to the kitchen to put together ingredients for the omelettes.

It's about 10 minutes before Harry appears in the kitchen, provoked by the smell. He places a hand on your lower back as a silent 'good morning!' while he stands to your side to admire your cooking. You try your best to ignore the warm feeling that his touch brings; the feeling that makes you wish for more than just a touch.

It makes you nervous, how quickly his presence has you feeling butterflies or how fast he can make you smile when you're in the darkest of moods. You've been sitting on the feelings for years, they were always there, hiding in the back of your head. The feelings that made you wish you'd shared that drink with him just for the second-hand contact to his lips.

Those are the thoughts that make you nervous. You try not to think about them when he's standing right next to you watching your every move with a wandering hand on the small of your back.

He's dressed in a colourful flannel and some shorts, you notice, much different than your fresh out of bed joggers and t-shirt. You make a mental note to change later, and you consider stealing one of his flannels (there's the thoughts again,) just to have his smell on you.

He pulls away from you to begin setting up the eating area, bringing out cups and silverware and then returning with a plate when he senses the omelette is nearly done. He stands to your left with the plate held in both hands like an excited toddler and when you flip the breakfast meal onto his plate he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead in thanks. The thoughts come rushing back; I like when you kiss me, Harry.

"D'you have any plans for today?" he quizzes, before taking a drink of his orange juice.

"Was thinking about going in the pool later," you tell him, "it seemed nice out, an' I love your pool."

"I rather like my pool too," he chuckles "I'll join you, yeah? Could go for a swim later."

When you finish eating, Harry takes the plates to wash despite your protests. You cooked, he argues, so he cleans. You glance at the time, almost 12, and decide that the time it will take to change and freshen up will be enough for your stomach to settle and therefore a swim will be safe.

Returning upstairs, you first search for a bikini and then your sunglasses, changing and adding a pair of shorts. You brush your hair, throughly this time, and tie it up to avoid contact with the chlorinated water.

Before you go back downstairs, you take a minute to look at yourself in the mirror— doing your best not to allow the thoughts to come forward. (You don't think about how your body will look to Harry, and you definitely don't allow yourself to think about what he might think about the bikini you chose. Absolutely not.)

When you return downstairs to the kitchen, the dishes are washed and on the drying rack. Grabbing two cups and straws, you fill each about half with ice and then filtered water; and carry them both out to the poolside where Harry sits contently in the sun.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry's eyes travel along your body through his sunglasses when you appear from inside of the house, wishing he could touch you. His brain flicks back to the phone call he had this morning with his Mum, how she encouraged him to make a move because she knows you're meant to be. His stomach flips thinking about it.

"Do you remember when we went to that party and you pushed that guy into the pool because he was flirting with me?" you smile, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the cold waters.

"Mm, we had to leave because he was gonna' beat me up," Harry chuckles, "I was drunk. Probably lucky he ended up in the pool."

"You were being protective! It was cute!" you defend,  rubbing his back lazily in comfort. He looks at you in a funny way, smile faltering a little before he returns his eyes back to the pool.

"M'gonna test the waters so the princess doesn't freeze," He proposes, rising from his seat when you give him a playful smack.

You rise as well, shimmying off your loose shorts and moving to sit at the side of the pool. Watching harry submerge himself first, you let your legs dangle off of the edge and into the water. It's cold, but a pleasant, enjoyable cold in the hot sun.

You sit contently for a few minutes, enjoying the water on your legs and watching harry swim back and forth. You lean back and turn your attention somewhere else, trying to avoid being caught staring.  Suddenly, though, a hand brushes up the side of one of your submerged legs, informing you of Harry's presence.

"Y'coming in?" he asks, standing now. He's tall, so your faces are about level now.

"Are you in a hurry?" He's close enough now that he's dripping cold water on your skin.

"Maybe,"

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist to lift you and pull you into the water. You squeal, grabbing his shoulders as leverage as he practically drops you into the water that feels ice cold against your warm sunny skin. He laughs loud and happy when you splash water in his direction as payback.

Soon, both of your energies mellow out. Harry's on his phone, while you're floating around in a doughnut shaped floatie. Harry snaps a photo, but you don't notice.

When it's time to get out, Harry offers to go grab the towels while you float around for a few more minutes. He's driving you crazy in the best way. Your skin still tingles where he had touched your sides to lift you into the water, and your palms burn with the memory of his bare shoulders.

When he returns, it's like his energy has changed. The sight of a shirt over his chest makes you frown momentarily, and he's light on his feet rather than the happy strides he took on his way into his home. You see him tuck his phone into his pocket as if he's been talking to someone again, and when his eyes meet yours the wide smile is hiding something else.

When you slip out of the doughnut and climb up the pool ladder, he mumbles a soft "c'mere" and wraps the towel around your shoulders. His eyes watch you for a little longer than they should've.

"Mum called again," He murmurs.

"I's she doing well? Is that who called this morning?" you question, keeping your attention on his eyes.

"Yeah, woke you up I suppose,"

"Not at all!" You defend.

He goes quiet, picking at his fingernails (a nervous habit you notice he's developed since beginning to paint his nails) and looking off to the side to avoid holding eye contact with you. This makes you nervous, he's never this way around you.

"Harry,"

"I'm sorry, 'shouldn't be such a big deal," he says, letting out an awkward laugh.

A soft smile appears on your face, taking his hands into yours to part them. Gently, you move towards him, pressing yourself wordlessly into his body and allowing his hands to wrap around your towel-covered body. It brings him comfort, and you ignore your own heart beating at the contact.

"Better?"

"A little." He admits. He loves holding you, and sure, it helps his nerves, but he's going to tell you.

His Mum's been on him since he told her you'd be staying with him, telling him “now or never, Harry!”, and he's beginning to realize it really is now or never. He doesn't know how long quarantine will keep up or how much longer you will decide to stay, and he misses you even when you're just running something as simple as a grocery trip.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows a friendship as strong as yours could work through anything, Still, there's always the possibility that things could go bad. “Get out of your head!'”Anne would say.

This type of topic between the two of you is quite common, given Harry's music and your tendency to be quite open. However, this type of topic concerning the two of you is uncharted territory.

He thinks about the story you'd brought up earlier. When you'd both went to a party together and some guy, very obviously drunker than the both of you, tried to flirt his way into your pants before Harry had pushed him into the pool himself.

The truth is, he knew you would hold your ground if you weren't interested. Actually, Harry knows from first-hand experience that you don't need protection, you can be very vocal when you need to be, and he's even seen you deck someone at the bar a few years back for touching one of your friends. You were the protector.

That's why, upon seeing Harry at such a nervous loss of words, you had hugged him. It was your own way of protecting him.

"I wasn't trying t'protect you when I pushed that guy into the pool." He states, quiet and unsure.

You only hum in reply, allowing him to finish his sentence but letting him know you heard what he said.

" 'was jealous."

What?

"What?" you pull away from him only slightly, “why?"

"I didn't want stupid—" he pauses for the name "Josh, or whatever, t'be the one to take y'home."

You give him a confused look, now that you can see his face. Not putting two and two together.

"Josh is great! I love Josh—"

"More than me?" he murmurs, and it clicks.

Oh.

"Of course not... Harry," you hesitate, watching his eyes move between your own and his jaw clench.

Is this happening?

"I wanted," his shaky hand finds your arm, sliding down to take hold of your own, equally shaky left hand to toy with your fingers.

"I wanted t'take you home. Crawl into bed with you. Whatever else." he finishes. His stomach is in butterflies by now and he feels the tight, anxiety feeling in his lungs.

It catches him completely off guard when your lips are on his.

When you try to pull away, scared you've overstepped, his mouth only follows your own and his hand rises to your jaw to hold you steady. He feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, holding you, kissing you, like this. This is what he's needed.

When you finally do pull away, it's to go inside. Harry erupts in happy laughter when you make a beeline up the stairs. Nothing happens though, it's too soon and Harry agrees, but that doesn't stop you from curling into Harry's sheets, cuddling and kissing each other while watching one of your favourite films.

Catching up on missed time.

***

The wedding reception.

How did we end up here?

"Honestly," Harry speaks loudly to the crowd of your family and friends within the dinner hall "I have two people to thank for sealing the deal."

You smile wildly, knowing exactly which story he's about to bring up. Your eyes travel through the table groups you and Harry had spent so much time planning out. When your eyes catch with Mitch's he gives you a wink.

"Anne, my beautiful Mother, thank you for not letting me coward out of finally telling my girl how I felt," he pauses, you place a hand on his knee

"And Josh—"

You can't hold back the laugh, especially when the entire room turns to face the poor, completely unsuspecting victim. Josh, face red and confused smile on his lips.

"Years ago, when I pushed you into that pool at your birthday party because— you would've killed me if I didn't run! Because you were talking to her and I got jealous!" the room is erupting in laughter.

The room is full of the most important people in your's and Harry's lives. Still though, your happy eyes are glued to Harry, working the small crowd of people as per usual and telling a story about the time of and before quarantine; of when you'd basically moved in with him and never left.

Later, when you're wrapped in warm blankets and Harry's arms, you're reflecting on your day. The guests, who you'd talked to, what you'd heard.

"Wow. I'm married." he dumbfounds.

Wow is right.

"We're married." you restate for him, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wow. I'm married to my best friend.”

Giggles boil over in the dark room. Harry is astonished suddenly, pupils blown, wide grin on his face. He presses quick kisses to the side of your face and you snuggle into his side more.

"I think we win, H."

[marvelfansince08love]

Small Reminders

Word count: 3306

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Warning: Some talk of low self-esteem. Delia being a sweetheart. 

Prompts requested: 3 “Just kiss me”, 7 “While they all fall in love with her smile, she waits for one who will fall in love with her scars,”

A/N: Two in one day? What is this madness! Wonderful Anon, enjoy love x

Thanks @imnotasuperhero​ for editing, boo x

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @saucy-sapphic @coconutlipss @creepingwolfberry @muted-stoneheart @chewbacca0805 @witchxaf​ 

Prompts 3, 7

Being one of the only mature students at the academy, made you feel very intimidated and insecure about your abilities as a growing witch. Learning the craft at such an older age meant that the other girls at the academy were very wary around you, as if waiting for you to blow over with this built up power that you never had the chance to unlock. It made you fidgety at first, knowing that eyes were constantly staring at you as if you were this unique creature. 

“How can you go this long without realising the power you possess,” 

“Is she even a witch?” 

You’ve come to ignore the blatant stares and the not so subtle comments wanting to harness your powers into something far more interesting, like manipulating Madison into being overly flirtatious with Zoe to confuse the innocent couple knowing from the rumour mill about their past ‘interests’ with Kyle. You smirk, remembering how during a salty argument between the two girls Madison had reached over and kissed Zoe on her cheek before stepping back horrified by the action, while Zoe blushed red in response. You had hid your amusement behind your open book just as Cordelia Goode had walked into the room, her eyes seeking out your own as if already knowing the cause of such awkwardness and if the twitch of her lips were any indication, she also shared in your amusement. You blush slightly, thinking of the certain blonde head witch, your supreme. 

Cordelia Goode had seeked you out along with her confidant Myrtle Snow after hearing about your small incident with a fire at your country home. She had such kind eyes, the ones you would seek out when in need of comfort. She whispered soft words of reassurance, letting you know you weren’t going crazy. Her touch was soft against your skin that day, tracing along your cheekbones, the touch grounding you leaning into her offered touch.

“You’re safe now, Y/N. Let us take care of you, darling girl.” She had said, her smile bright and easy that it could single handedly stop any war or conflict. She was the most incredible person you had ever met. 

That was over four months ago and you had grown closer to the older woman, seeking out her guidance whenever you were struggling. The others would tease you about your closeness with the supreme but you would argue back that she was just as close to Misty Day as she was you. You would blame it on the similar ages between you three, but you knew that your feelings for the powerful witch were more than just platonic. It only grew with each passing touch on your shoulder, the secret smile and wink she would send to you at the dinner table while the others chatted amongst themselves. 

You continued to think about that particular thought as you grinded down the now dried out herbs in the greenhouse. Apart from the library, this was your favourite place to come and unwind, clearing your thoughts as you worked. The sound of the glass door opening startles you from your work, making you drop the mortar onto the floor with a clang. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Here, let me get the broom and pan.” Delia’s concerned voice rushes, as she makes her way further into the greenhouse heading for the broom to clean up the now broken mortar. You go to protest, trying to justify that it was your fault as you dropped the damn thing. She shakes her head not wanting to hear it. 

“No, it was my fault for startling you while you worked, darling. Let me get this cleaned up and then we can talk.” She informs, making you blush at her pet name for you. You crotch to join her with cleaning up the small broken piece much to her disapproving look. As you pick up the pieces and place them into the dustpan you feel her gaze flickering between your face and the task at hand, sensing her nervousness already. 

“Are you okay, Delia? What is it you wanted to talk to me about?” You ask, taking the initiative to start the conversation. Placing the broken pieces in the pan on top of the table, Delia turns towards you and clasps both your hands in between her own, that breathtaking smile appearing onto her soft features. 

“I have some good news. How do you feel about teaching a class this afternoon? Just some of the basics. It will show the younger girls just how much you’ve come along. A true inspiration.” She gushes, excitement evident in her big dark eyes as they lock with your own conflicted ones. Her smile falters at your lack of enthusiasm at her proposition. “Or not, that’s okay as well,” she retracts but you can hear the disappointment in her voice.

“I uh, I dunno Cordelia. I um... I don’t think I’m good enough to be teaching these young witches anything.” You confess, uncertainty laced within your voice. Dark brows frown at your words as if trying to understand them. 

“Darling girl, you have such a strong power.. I wish you could see just how special you are. I see it within you everyday,” she pauses, removing a hand from around your own to place flat against your heart. Making you inhale deeply at the intimate touch. “I can feel your powers growing stronger every day, Y/N. You have so much to offer, not just to the coven but to yourself.” She finishes, her eyes trying to gaze in your wondering ones not wanting to meet the intensity of her brown eyes.

Keeping your eyes trained to the side you mumble sadly to her. “I wish I could believe that, Miss.Goode. I’m sorry, but I would like to give that a miss but thank you for the opportunity.” You gulp trying to keep the sob from escaping, the negative thoughts about yourself slowly creeping in. You feel her remove her hand from your chest, giving you space to leave knowing you are done with the conversation but ever too polite to say. You bolt out of the room the second she gives you that silent permission. 

***

“You just have to be more patient with her Delia. She’s a sensitive soul, my dear.” Myrtle’s raspy voice advises, ever the wise one. Cordelia sits across from her mentor, one of Misty’s herbal teas brewing between her hands as she takes in her words. Her gaze watching the flames flicker from the fireplace within her bedroom. 

“I don’t know what else I can do. She thinks so little of herself, I can feel the insecurity and doubt seeping from her like a cry for help.” She shakes her head, unable to process just how little you see yourself. 

“She may be able to hide that side of her to the rest of the coven but I can see her, Myrtle.” Her voice trembling, saddened by the fact that you have not been able to make real connections with the rest of the girls. 

Myrtle looks at her daughter with understanding, she was there the day you had both met completely engrossed within each other's presence. It was like she just faded into the background, not that she minded of course. Myrtle loved the idea of Cordelia finally finding someone who would treat her like an equal, but who would love her as if she held the clouds above her. That was the look she saw in your eyes that day as Cordelia cradled your face close to her as you came to terms with who you really are. 

What Cordelia didn’t know was that the redhead had been keeping a close eye on you, way before the accident at the house. She watched you fight with yourself everyday, trying to push aside that negative energy that kept a tight hold on you, the forced smiles you would pull to the others around, fooling them as you fooled yourself that you were happy and content with yourself. Cordelia hadn’t been stupid when Myrtle finally came to her telling her all about this new witch who could use their guidance, she could see the look in her mentors eyes knowing she was up to something. 

As it turned out from the moment that Delia had laid her eyes on you, she knew exactly what she was up to. While Cordelia had healed for the most part from her past traumas, her low self-esteem, never feeling like she could be good enough, could never possibly be up to her mother's high standards. She knew that for you, all those emotions were still new and very raw which was why when she held you that day, she made it her mission to make sure you never were to feel like that again. Myrtle reached across to place her hand on top of Cordelia's free hand and pats in sympathy. 

“You know what you have to do, my dear. Think outside the box.” 

***

Over the last few days, you’ve become very frustrated. Colourful sticky notes have been left purposefully within your path around the academy, all signed to you. This made you nervous, you wondered if Madison had anything to do with it, maybe even Coco. You had returned from your daily meditation with Queenie and Misty, both trailing in behind you. You groaned as soon as you spotted the bright pink note on your vanity table, already feeling your cheeks heat up. You may be frustrated with this mysterious person and their secret notes but it didn’t mean you have grown fond of finding them throughout your day. Queenie snickers behind you, already knowing about the secret notes that you had quizzed her about late last night as you grabbed hold of the tiny piece of paper. 

You are worth so much more than your darkness - Yours X

“Damn girl. This is like what, the seventh one in the last three days?” Queenie comments, peeking over your shoulder at the note as Misty joins her on your other side. 

“We have a lil’ sweetheart on our hands,” Misty comments, taking the note and placing it into the small box that keeps the other heartfelt words locked away from prying eyes. You clear your throat feeling an overwhelming lump in your throat, the words effecting you more than you would like to admit. 

“I’m sure it’s one of the younger girls playing tricks.” You defend, quickly locking the box and putting away. You hear them both scoff behind you before silence settles among the room making you turn to face them in question, eyebrows raised at the mischievous grins.

“What?” Misty gazes away from you as if faking interest in your hanging plant plot on your wall, while Queenie crosses her arms across her chest looking very smug.

“It’s just that… and correct me if I’m wrong, but that handwritin’ looks awfully familiar to me.” Misty says with indifference, stroking the leaf from your plant. You frown at her riddles, slightly frustrated that they both seem to be on the same page while you appeared to be on a different book entirely. 

“Hmm, yeah. Now that you mention it Mist, it looks very familiar to me too,” Queenie plays along, a mischievous glint sparks within her dark eyes as she watches the gears turn in your head. 

“Guys seriously, enough with the mind games. Do you know who this is?” You ask tiredly, indicating to the black engraved box on your table. Misty sways slightly towards you, a bright orange note between her fingertips holding the piece of paper between your face and hers allowing you to grab a hold of the note. 

“I found this on my side of the room. Clearly whoever left it forgot that I shower wayyyy after you do and I know this ain’t for me.” Misty drawls out, a small smirk on her lips. Keeping your eyes locked with the woman, you take the note from her hands and read the black swirling ink. 

While they all fall in love with her smile, she waits for one who will fall                                      in love with her scars. 

                      You may not see it, but I certainly do. 

                               My special darling girl,

                                         Yours X

You re-read the last few lines over and over again, realization dawning upon you as you read the personal nickname that only one certain blonde supreme calls you. Shaking your head, you move to sit onto your bed that lies parallel to Misty’s. The two women sit beside you on the bed as they wait for you patiently to accept who the mysterious person is. 

“But I-” A tut from Queenie stops you in your tracks. 

“You two are so obvious except to each other. You two lock eyes at dinner and I feel like I need to excuse myself,” Queenie teases, gently shoving her shoulder against yours making you fluster at your poor attempts to act normal around the beautiful blonde. 

“I don’t understand.” You mutter, eyes still locked onto the black ink. The two friends lock eyes over your head before they both go to stand. Misty places a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently as if trying to give you the confidence and strength you need. 

“Go talk to Delia, Y/N. She clearly has something to say to you.” Queenie suggests with such kindness that it makes the unshed tears build within your eyes. 

“O-okay, I’ll talk to her.” 

And you did exactly that. 

Later that evening, once the rest of the coven had retreated to their rooms for the night. Queenie and Misty had given you not-so subtle thumbs in as you continued on down the hall towards the supreme’s bedroom where you could see the faint orange light seeping beneath her bedroom door, indicating that she was still in fact awake; much to your relief and dread. 

You breathe out slowly as your fist hovers over the wooden door that is currently stopping you from making either the worst or best decision. With a soft knock and a faint ‘come in’ you open the door and peer through the gap tentatively, feeling your breath hitch at the perfect sight in front of you. Sitting with her back against the arm of the long sofa, her knees up towards her chest as an old book lays open upon her thighs as her long satin black dressing gown hangs low just about touching the cream carpet, is Cordelia with her long blonde locks draped towards her breast her signature black rimmed glasses perched on her perfect nose. She looks up at you as you enter fully into her room smiling softly, shuffling slightly, feeling awkward for interrupting her downtime. Knowing she doesn’t get enough of it due to her status within the coven.

“Hey, darling girl. This is a nice surprise.” She comments, placing her book onto the draw next to the sofa. You gulp at hearing the name that has stirred up so many feelings within you, even more so since reading her last note. You smile shyly and head towards her as she indicates for you to take a seat across from her in the single plush chair. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late into the evening, Cordelia. I um- I,” you stutter, suddenly feeling very foolish for coming here in the first place. Cordelia tilts her head in confusion waiting for you to gather yourself. She leans forward and places her hand on your knee, her thumb stroking calm strokes along your bare knee due to the night clothes you were wearing. 

“Darling, what is it?” She asks, her voice awfully soft that you feel your own heart melt by the sound of her tenderness. Instead of answering her you decided to bring forth the note that was read last by magic, watching as her eyes widen momentarily before the corners of her big doe eyes crease due to the knowing smile that appears onto her soft pink lips.

“Ah, so you finally figured it out.” Is all she says as she leans back, crossing one leg over the other. Looking regal as ever and so, so calm. God I hate that she can be like that during these types of conversations. 

‘You secretly love it though,’ you remind yourself. 

“I just- I just don’t understand why. Why the secret notes? The words used? I don’t understand why you would send them to me of all people.” You admit, dropping your gaze as to not show her just how affected you are by those words. 

Cordelia moves from the other side of the sofa and around towards you. Crouching in front of your hunched figure, she grasps your chin between her thumb and index finger forcing you to look at her. 

“They are reminders.” You frown at that, still not quite understanding which makes her lips twitch attempting to smile at just how oblivious you were.  

“Reminders of just how perfect you really are to me. It’s how I see you, Y/N. I know you have scars that cut deep, maybe even as deep as mine. I get you like no one else does because I’ve been there, my darling. You may be able to hide behind that forced beautiful smile of yours but I can see the sadness in your eyes.” She declares, brushing her thumb across your wet cheeks collecting the fallen tears that roll quietly down your face. 

“I don’t deserve your kind words, Delia.” You whisper, unable to make your words clear in fear of breaking down. “I’m just so tired.” You splutter out before dropping your chin down to your chest, unable to keep her gaze. It’s far too understanding and kind towards you, and you aren’t used to having such compassion. 

“Shhh shh, it’s okay. It’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” She hushes, standing to allow you to collapse forward burying your face into her stomach as she keeps you close. Once you feel the last remaining tear fall, you exhale deeply trying to compose yourself. 

Looking up at the blonde witch you feel that overwhelming sense of love again for her, that contentedness that grounds you whenever you are around her. Something shifts between you in that moment as you lock eyes with the blonde beauty, her hands move from behind your head to cup your jaw prompting you to stand so you are more equal to her. Standing a breath away from her, you take in her features as she does the same, as if silent words are being exchanged.

“This may be a bit forward of me but-”

“Just kiss me, Delia.” You force out, your need evident. As you brush your lips lightly across her own. Hearing the slight intake of breath, indicating just how affected she is by your demand. Pressing hard, you allow yourself to sink into her hold. The feel of her soft full lips finally against your own, you can’t help the satisfying moan that escapes your throat making her moan back in response. 

“God, I could kiss you forever and never get tired of it.” She breathes, her voice raspy and desperate. 

“Who’s stopping you?” You whisper back. Your eyes hooded with arousal as you take in her swollen lips. At that, Cordelia smashes her lips against your own silencing any more conversation for the rest of the night. 

You both knew there was more left unsaid but for right now, you’d show each other just how worthy you are to one another by gentle touches, soft kisses and gentle promises of forever. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Kismet {10}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, Small Time Jump, Mild Angst

Words: 5.8k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: The chapter includes some French. I’ve added the translations best I could. Some from memory, but some from Google translate. If the translations are off, I apologize.

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It didn’t take long for you to realize you’d either offended him or hurt his feelings. It was clear from how stiff he was when he walked away from you. Everything about him was different. You’d wanted to call after him or chase him down the street to explain, but something kept your feet planted right where they were. What made you feel worse was that he didn’t switch up. He still called you to say good morning and wish you a safe flight again the next morning. When you’d landed back in LA, he’d picked up your call on the second ring. He didn’t speak like a man with a grudge or chip on his shoulder. He was the same, Henry.

 Over the next few days, he kept the same energy and consistency. It was something you didn’t expect, but it was something refreshing. You thought about him more and more, and every conversation you had, you wanted to apologize for your stark reaction, but every time you opened your mouth to, the right words never seemed to form. It also didn’t take you long to notice that he wasn’t asking again. You doubted he ever would.

 As the days ticked off and his departure date grew nearer and nearer, you could sense the disappointment in him, and that disappointment came across more and more like hurt. With each passing day, you felt more of an urgency in you that you couldn’t understand. You felt as if your time was dwindling, and you only had so much time to do what was right even though you didn’t know what that was. The day he called to let you know he was about to board his flight, you sat in your living room you wished him safe travels, then hung up, which left you just staring out for hours, wondering how big of a mistake you’d made.

 “What’s up with you?”

 Alicia’s voice beside you brought you out of your daze. You groaned, then dropped your head back onto the couch.

 “Henry asked me to go on vacation with him,” you blurted out, unable to hold it in anymore.

 It had been six days since your time together in London, and you hadn’t been able to get it off your mind or tell anyone. When Alicia didn’t respond right away, you looked to her to find a confused expression on her face.

 “Confused.”

 You groaned again then explained everything that happened in London to her. The only things you left out were the butterflies in your belly the entire night, the feeling of breathlessness every time he came close, the strong urge to touch him any and everywhere, and your impulses that went against everything you’d stood for the last few years.  So all in all, you told her everything.

 The huge smile on Alicia’s face was expected. You rolled your eyes. “Stop smiling.”

 “Okay.”

 Her smile remained pasted to her lips, and it was growing with every second. Annoyance flared up in you.

 “Stop!”

 “I can’t!”

 She began giggling.

 “You like him, like really, really like him,” Alicia accused, right on the money.

 “I do,” your let slip without thought. “I don’t know why or how. I’ve known him maybe two months tops, and we’ve only been out four or five times. I know nothing about him, nothing at all. I don’t know what I like. I don’t know if I like him or his looks and body,” you blurted as each revelation came to mind.

 “Oh, you definitely like his looks and body, but I think this is something different, something you’ve never experienced before,” Alicia revealed.

 You rolled your eyes again, then stared at the ceiling. She made perfect sense, you thought.

 “You’ve heard about love at first sight.”

 You sprang up looking at her like she was bat shit crazy.

 “Bite your heathenous tongue.”

 Alicia busted out laughing then. You remained silent. This was no laughing matter. Especially when the “L” word was waved around willy nilly.

 “Oh god, that was not funny,” you said.

 “Stop being so dramatic. Look, I know neither of us has ever experienced it; hell, I said it was a fucking bullshit, but--.”

 “Don’t Leece,” you cautioned, not ready to remotely go anywhere near that landmine.

 “Okay, look,” she began scooting closer to you. “This is what I know. You have these ridiculous rules.”

 You glared at her, but she didn’t back down. Before she opened her mouth to speak again, you stood and walked off toward the kitchen, knowing she’d follow. Once in the kitchen, you dug in the fridge for a can of ginger ale, hoping it would settle your stomach, and like clockwork, Alicia reached in also to retrieve one for herself. As she opened the can and took a seat at the island, she continued.

 “So your ridiculous rules. I know they’ve kept assholes away this long and has made it possible for you to keep your head above water. I get it, and I’m all for self-perseverance. You know I am. But--,” she smacked her lips as if she was getting ready to tell you off.

 “Your rules—honey--,” she sighed. “They’re bullshit, and they are keeping you from developing something substantial, something real, something—true. Now I get that was the point in them in the first place. However, Mr. Blue eyes and British accent,” she finished reading you like an open book.

 You gulped the soda, ignoring the burn of the acid on your tongue. It was a trick for the brain. Give it something else to focus on, so you got a moment of quiet. It always worked, but it was only temporary. When you lowered the can, you hissed.

 “Fuck!”

 “I like him. Amaya likes him. I don’t think he has ulterior motives, and I’m an excellent judge of character. I never liked Evan for a reason.”

 You scoffed and closed your eyes, trying to get your brain to quiet down.

 “So what do I do?”

 “You know what to do. Lucky for you, it’s what you really wanna do anyway.”

 “He’s on vacation,” you said.

 “Yep, he’s on vacation,” Alicia reiterated.

 “I don’t know where.”

 “It’s a good and lucky thing you’re a member of a royal family no matter how much you like to denounce it. You can find him.”

 A lightbulb went off in your head and giving you your big ah-ha moment. You ran out of the kitchen to the living room where you’d left your phone. You sat then debated what you were about to do. You’d never gone to lengths like this for anyone. It took almost two minutes for you to make the call, and as you did, you wondered if this was a little wrong. It took two minutes to make the call and another two minutes before you had the information you needed. Once you ended the call, Leece was sitting on the arm of the couch with an expectant look on her face.

 “So, where is he?”

 “Bandol, France,” you answered.

 “Ooh, so luxurious. Go get him.”

 You stood then hugged her. You didn’t know how she wasn’t tired of your ass after all the years of knowing you and being the one to talk you down off your ledges or up on your horse.

 “Do me a favor, best friend.”

 “What?”

 “Turn him black, so he never goes back!”

 You snorted so hard that it hurt. Your laugh was so powerful that your stomach hurt after just seconds.

 “Shut up, oh my god.”

 For the next hour or so, Alicia helped you pack while you made the call to your manager to let him know you were planning to take some time off. When you said the words, he even laughed, finding it hard to believe you. It took some convincing to let him know you were serious, but once he got it, he was quick to help, saying you needed a vacation. Turns out he’d been trying to find the right time to bring it up. You had a quick meeting where he assured you he’d tie off all your loose ends for the next two weeks to start. By the end of the call, you were halfway to the airport to get to your waiting private plane.

 Nervousness was the least of what you felt. Anxiousness, fear, doubt, and nauseousness were right up there. After an hour in the air, it had only grown. You kept worrying if you were doing the right thing or if he’d think you were absolutely insane to fly across the world without a technical invitation. The more you thought about it, the more you doubted what you were doing.

By the time you landed in France, your nerves had pretty much mellowed out, for the most part. The beautiful scenery alone should have worked to calm you and give you a sense that you were on vacation, but it didn’t. Using the email you’d gotten from the family’s security services, you gave the taxi driver the address to where Henry was. As you drove through the town, you marveled at the views and tried to enjoy the warm breeze. When the car stopped in front of an impressive villa, your jaw dropped. He sure didn’t go low key, you thought.

 “Mademoiselle Mlle serait -vous que je apporter vos sacs à l'intérieur? {Miss, would you like me to bring your bags inside?}

 You contemplated Pierre, the driver’s question for a few seconds.

“Eh bien, ce n'est pas chez moi, si je le faisais, je serais trespassing. {Well this is not my home and if I did that it would be trespassing.}

 That realization had you making a face that said you knew it was questionable.

 “Comme un homme que je ne serais pas fâché de trouver un ange comme toi-même dans ma maison. {As a man I would not be angry to find an angel such as you in my home}, he said with a wide grin.

 Such a sweet talker, you thought as you laughed. I smile. 

 “Voilà monsieur douce. Je vais attendre ici. {That is sweet sir, but I will wait here}

 “Ici, sur les étapes ? Seul? {Here, on the steps. Alone?}

 He sounded like it was something he’d never heard of. You got out of the car then looked around for the best spot to sit and wait.

 Oui, je vais bien. Merci de votre aide. {Yes, I will be fine, thank you for your help.}

 Pierre came around the car then opened the trunk to take your bags out. One by one, he brought them to the steps of the villa. Once he finished, you dug into your purse and handed him four hundred dollar bills, and pressed them into his palm. He looked shocked but appreciative. After thanking him, he drove off, leaving you there with the seaside cliff view as your company.

 You texted Alicia and Amaya, letting them know you’d gotten there but knew they probably wouldn’t see it right away, thanks to the time difference. You sat for a few minutes only to get up and pace back and forth for another few minutes. Then you switched and did it over and over. Your brain made it feel like it was an eternity that passed, but you knew that couldn’t have been true. You heard a motorcycle approaching and watched as a silverish white one pulled up. You couldn’t tell if it were him, but you had a feeling it was. Once he’d turned the engine off, his movements slowed, and you knew he’d seen you.

 He threw his large leg over the bike then peeled off his helmet, revealing curly hair and a scruffy beard. You gulped. That’s how damn good he looked.

 “Damn.”

 Henry approached you with a confused but cautious look on his face. It did nothing to assure you that you hadn’t made a colossal mistake. Unable to hold his gaze, you looked over what he wore, preppy sky blue shorts and a white polo shirt that was unbuttoned, showing off sprigs of chest hair. You’d imagined he had chest hair, and this was your answer.

 “Aliya?”

 “H—hi,” you stuttered.

 Henry looked around like he was wondering how the hell you got there.

 “What’re you doing here?”

 “In France?”

 “On my doorsteps,” Henry clarified.

 “Oh, um—right. I can see how this would—look. Strange, alarming even. I promise there is an explanation.”

 Nervousness overtook you, making you giggle. Henry stood there patiently waiting for said explanation, but the look of bewilderment didn’t go away.

 “How did you know where I was, first of all?”

 Damn it, you thought, trying to find your voice. “Eh-em, well—I called in a favor and—had your cellphone tracked.

 His eyes widened, and you braced yourself for the freak-out you suspected was coming.

 “What!?”

 With your face scrunched, you decided to face it head-on and nodded. “Yeah. Saying that out loud now, I can understand how it sounds and even how it looks.”

 “So, you know people who will just track a phone?”

 Uh-oh, you thought, trying to find an answer that wouldn’t give anything away.

 “I do,” you slowly answered.

 Henry stared at you, and you knew he was weighing his options on whether to call the cops to get your ass out of there or listen to more. It was hard to read him, harder than it had been the last few times you'd been together.

 “You’re freaking out. Look, I’m not crazy; I promise I’m not. I just—I had to find you.”

 “Why? You made yourself perfectly clear a week ago,” Henry threw in your face.

 “I did,” you began, groaning from exhaustion. You sat down on one of the steps and sighed.

 “God, I have lived with a set of rules for the last three years. These rules have helped me tremendously. They’ve helped me keep people at arm’s length and have helped me protect myself from everyone, whether they meant ill or good. I’ve lived with these rules and have never broken any of them—not one. Then here you come.”

 You dropped your head into your hands and released a heavy breath before you continued.

 “Here you come, and within less than a month, I’d broken three, and that alarmed the shit out of me. I wasn’t prepared and didn’t know how to deal with it. Then you go asking me to go away on vacation with you and—that would have broken another rule, and that would have led to me breaking all of them on this vacation,” you blurted out.

 Henry stood there, staring at you with yet another unreadable expression plastered across his face. Your head said shut up, but your lips kept moving.

 “I couldn’t accept, then this last week I realized that I didn’t want to be anywhere but here—on this vacation—with you, and if it meant breaking another rule, then it would be broken. So here I am.”

 Henry sighed, “What are these rules?”

 Uh-oh, you thought again. You were sure after you told him he’d run for the hills. Even Amaya and Alicia made fun of your neurotic ass because of these obsessive rules. You chewed your bottom lip, reluctant to voice them. Henry didn’t look to be in any hurry, though; he just waited.

 Realizing he still hadn’t kicked your ass to the proverbial curb, you said a silent prayer, took a breath, and sang like a canary.

 “Um—in no particular order—one, no outings that have been labeled as a date, only hanging out is acceptable. Two, no back to back outings and or hanging out. Three, no hand-holding. Four, no one sees my house or how to get to my house. Five, No one comes to my house at all, not even to hang out and definitely not sleep. Six, I don’t hang out or sleep at anyone’s home. Seven, no kissing on the first date. Eight, no kissing on the second date. Nine, no kissing on the third date. Ten, no kissing with my eyes closed, period. Eleven, no PDA. Twelve, no gifts of any kind. Thirteen, no emotional intimacy. Fourteen, no vacations together. Fifteen, no sex with anyone you can see yourself with longer than three months. Sixteen, no meeting families or friends on either side. Seventeen, Never relinquish control.”

 Hearing them out loud, you would have run in the other direction without looking back. He didn’t move, though, hell he didn’t even speak. He didn’t have to; his face was doing all the talking you needed. With bugged eyes, slightly parted lips, and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked the perfect picture of an outright terrified man.

 “Those are a lot of rules.”

 You nodded. “Yes, they are.”

 He took several moments before speaking again. “How do you keep them all in mind?”

 “Practice.”

 “Wow, I don’t—I don’t know what to--.”

 His words drifted off, and you watched him rub the back of his neck.

 “So you’re willingly going to break number six and thirteen.”

 He already had them memorized; you thought as you nodded. “Pretty much.”

 Henry studied you for several more moments and then breathed out before he walked up the front doorsteps. You watched him unlock it before he looked back at you.

 “Please come in.”

 You didn’t know if he was serious or not, so you didn’t move. He must have sensed it because he beckoned you over with an added smile. Sighing, you slowly walked up the steps toward him and the door.

 “I’ll get your bags,” he said before he walked back down the steps to gather your bags two by two.

On his second trip, you walked inside with him and looked around. It looked like a mix of Mediterranean, coastal, and traditional décor. The ceiling's wooden beams complemented the neutral colors of the furniture and the wood strewn around the foyer.

 “Make yourself at home,” Henry said before he walked out again for the remainder of your bags.

 You took a few more steps and looked at the art on the wall. They all were a mix of expressionist and abstract, and all made you feel relaxed. You could see him living here, and you wondered if he were renting this or if he owned it. A photograph on the sideboard resting against the wall caught your eye. It was of him and four other men all wearing athletic clothing, smiling widely and holding up medals. They all resembled each other, making you deduce they could have been his brothers. You walked further inside the home toward what looked like a living room and touched the white brick accent wall. It was a pleasing aesthetic that was set.

“Wow. This is--.”

 You didn’t know the right word. Henry approached and stood beside you as you continued looking around.

 “This is an architectural dream, and very different than I thought.”

 “You’ve thought about my home?”

 You paused with your hand on the back of one of the creamish, grey tufted couch and turned to look at him.

 “Um, the environment to which you lay your head,” you cautiously corrected. “They say someone’s home tells you everything you need to know about them.”

 “Is that so?”

 You nodded and continued walking around the living room. The view from the arched window was beautiful.

 “Let me give you a tour,” Henry offered, leading the way out of the living room.

 He walked around, showing you each room, and they all resembled one another. You could imagine him in each room. Sitting in the armchair by the big window sipping coffee or kicking his feet up while watching tv at night before going to bed. When he showed you the kitchen, you pictured him cooking shirtless, making some French dish. It all screamed him.

 “This is all yours?”

 “I bought it as a holiday home for my family. I wanted us to have a place where we could go on holiday either together or separately. That is why it’s so big. There are a lot of us.”

 “That’s nice,” you answered.

 You nodded and followed him outside the large French-style glass doors. As soon as you stepped out, you could help but gasp at the beauty.

 “Oh my god. Holy shit, this—this is—incredible. Wow.”

You gaped at the comfortable sitting area that was primed for dining outdoors. You went up the few steps and turned to the right, and marveled at the inground pool and the greenery of France.

“It is.”

 Smiling, you turned to him then scoffed. “Wow.”

 Henry smiled softly, then dipped his head. When he did, the smile fell.

 “I’ll show you where you’ll sleep,” he said before turning to walk back inside. You took one more look around and followed him.

 It wasn’t a quick walk by no means. You noted it was probably the other side of the house. When he stopped and opened a large, heavy wooden door, you walked in first. The room wasn’t obnoxiously large. It was comfortable and minimally decorated. You walked to the window and smiled. It was the perfect view of the cliffside.

 “Is it to your liking?”

 You spun while nodding your head. “Of course, thank you.”

 “No problem,” Henry replied. Your eyes locked for a few seconds, but he was the one to look away.

 “I’ll bring your bags.”

 He walked out, leaving you to admire the view some more and formulate a better plan. You’d only thought as far as finding him. You didn’t plan to tell him everything about your rules, and now you didn’t know how to proceed. You felt awkward.

 “God Aliya, stalker much?”

 Sighing, you began pacing the floor, hoping something would come to you while you tried not to imagine him thinking of you like some crazy chick. Your phone went off, and you were thankful for the distraction. You plopped into the chair beside the window and went through your emails and messages, answering the urgent work ones, quickly getting lost in them.

 “Here you go,” Henry began as he placed your bags on the far left side of the bedroom. You heard him come in, but being in the middle of an email, you didn’t look up, just mumbled a thank you.

 “I thought a vacation was supposed to mean no work.”

 Looking up at him, you released a breath. “I’m sorry, I—I got distracted, and I got sucked in.”

 Smiling, you put your phone down, hoping he would see it as a peace offering. He was leaned against the wall with one leg crossed over the other.

 “I understand. It happens to me too. I personally set everyone I work with, or for on a separate ring and alert sound, so I know not to answer or check it.”

 “Everyone? That has to be at least fifty people,” you said.

 “Try sixty-five, seventy.”

 “Wow. How long did that take you?”

 “Ha—hmm, about forty-five minutes maybe an hour,” Henry added.

 “Is that what you think I should do?”

He shrugged, then raked his fingers through his curly tousled hair, and you wondered if he’d even bothered using a comb or a brush this whole time. He didn’t look disheveled, though. He looked perfect like this.

“I can’t say. It’s up to you.”

 Again, your eyes locked, and you were just waiting, wishing for him to give you any hint at all that he wasn’t done with you and just being polite and hospitable.

 “Thank you for bringing my bags, Henry.”

 “You’re welcome.” He smiled then spoke again. “Out of curiosity, how long were you staying? You have enough bags to say a few weeks.”

 “Um—one thing you’ll learn about me, I overpack all the time. I can’t seem to, no matter how hard I try, but I’d rather have something I need rather than not have it when I need it,” you answered.

 He nodded, then uncrossed his legs before changing his position.

 “How—how long are you staying?”

 “I planned on being here for about a week, maybe.”

 You nodded, “Then?”

 “Not sure. I’m not making plans for the next three and a half weeks at least,” he answered.

 Tens of things flashed through your head to say, but you were still trying to read him and the situation. After a few seconds of silence, Henry spoke again.

 “You’re—uh—you’re welcome to tag along wherever the wind blows.”

 You didn’t like the sound of “welcome to,” but you also knew you’d already fucked the situation up, so you shouldn’t have any expectations. You sighed, then bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your lips from opening. You had the worst censor.

 “Welcome? Huh, somehow that sounds different than an—invitation.”

 Henry scoffed then nodded. “Last time I gave you an invitation, you didn’t really accept it or gracefully decline it.”

 Damn, you thought. He’d thrown that right at you with force. You deserved it. He was right, you hadn’t accepted the invite, and it was done in true Aliya fashion—avoidance.

 “Wow. Did you really just call me ungraceful?”

 You bit your bottom lip, fighting the smile.

 “You called yourself that,” Henry answered.

 Another long stretch of silence filled the room, and the longer it went on, the more nervous you got. Henry pushed off the wall.

 “I’ll make some lunch,” he said before he walked out.

 Once he was gone, you breathed out and tried to catch your breath. There was something about him that always gave off an overwhelming feeling. It wasn’t a feeling of you being afraid but in a heightened state. Of what? You were still trying to figure it out. You slowly began unpacking your things while setting all your contacts on an alert. You were going to try his strategy to see if you would actually be able to enjoy this vacation.

 About an hour later, you walked out of what was designated as your room and walked through the house, looking into rooms with open doors and around corners for where he could be. Following your nose and the delicious scent of roasted vegetables, you stepped into the kitchen expecting to see him, only to find it empty. Backtracking, you walked to the opened doors that led outside and saw him putting down a bottle of white wine on the rustic walnut table that had two place settings filled with the fruits of his labor.

 “Right on time. I was going to come knocking.”

 You smiled and tipped your head back to take in the wood and vines wrapped around the pergola.

 “No need. I cannot get over this view,” you said.

 “Do you come to France a lot?”

 “No. I come once in a while, usually for work.”

 “Ever Baldon?”

 You approached the table, sliding your finger along the Rattan chair that accompanied the table.

 “No.”

 “Nice, so you’re a tourist,” Henry said with a smile as he pulled out a chair for you.

 You returned his smile and sat down. “I am.”

 As he walked to his seat adjacent to yours, you took in the spread before you. “What do we have here?”

 “Avocado salad with mozzarella and roast beef sliders on Fiselle,” Henry explained as he pointed out everything he mentioned.

 You were impressed. “Wow. Did you make this?”

 His smile was wide; he looked proud. “I did. The roast beef was leftover from last night, and the avocado salad was quick. The bread was store-bought from the bakery in town, though.”

 It all looked delicious. “So you can cook.”

 “Yes, I can. My mother taught me; she taught all of us. She said it was her gift to our future significant others.”

 You chuckled, already liking his mother. Henry motioned for you to try something, and you wasted no time doing so. You placed a forkful of the salad into your mouth, your eyes instantly closing. You moaned at the avocado's buttery taste and how the flavors of the mozzarella and lemony but sweet vinaigrette complemented the tang of the vegetables.

 “This is good.”

 Henry’s smile widened as he picked up one of his sliders.

 “Thank you. Do you like French food?”

 “I do.”

 He nodded again as he finished chewing what was in his mouth. “Good, you’ll be eating a lot of it.

 You couldn’t help but smile because it sounded like he planned on cooking for you more often. You liked the sound of that and everything it meant. The two of you ate in relative silence, but it wasn’t an awkward one. You were enjoying the feel of the sun beaming down on you through the vines and the sound of the ocean, you guessed was only a few miles away. You could even smell the salt in the air from it. Henry did look to be in dire need of conversation either. He seemed happy to listen to the song of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. You were glad for it because it gave you the needed time to get your thoughts together.

 However, your thoughts only dwelled on one thing; the prospect of him hating that you were there.

 “Are you freaked out that I’m here?”

 Henry didn’t immediately speak. He lifted his glass and leisurely drank half of it before placing it back on the table. “All honesty, I’m just a little confused,” he began.

 The taste of the wine on your tongue told you there was more than grapes in it. You tasted pear and even strawberries. It tasted like France.

 “Yeah.”

 “I do find it interesting that to you, I’m worth tracking my phone.”

 You smiled and brought the glass back to your lips, using it more as a distraction than anything else.

 “So you don’t plan on calling the FBI and telling them what I did?”

 He snorted and leaned back in his chair. “Nah, you’re safe there.”

 “It’s not as hard as you think. You just need the person’s full name and phone number,” you matter of factly advised.

 “Also, a friend with the skill.”

 You nodded again, not wanting to give anything away. From the corner of your eye, you could see him smiling like a fool trying not to laugh out loud. It was too much for you, and you had to laugh out loud. In seconds, he joined in, and any tension between you melted away.

After lunch, Henry suggested a quick look around, so you hopped on the back of his Ducati, and he gave you the driving tour of the area. He pointed out the bakery that supplied him with all his baked goods, the local butcher where he got the best cuts of meat, and even the local winery. The town was beautiful, and the best part was that it was so close to the beach. It was everything that everyone thought of when they thought of a town on the Côte d'Azur—beautiful, quaint, luxurious, and a ten on the romantic potential scale.

 The entire time Henry remained the perfect gentleman. He kept his hands to himself, allowed you to go first, pulled out chairs, paid for all the small treats you sampled, and kept his language respectful. He was behaving so kind and professional it drove you crazy. The entire time you couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you felt to him or the attraction that was growing by leaps and bounds thanks to the change of his appearance. He looked so good, and your body recognized it.

 Your eyes always found each other no matter the size of the crowd or how far you were from one another. When your eyes met, they lingered so long the butterflies in your belly swarmed wildly, making you feel as if you’d run a marathon. You could even tell by the way he looked at you that he might have been feeling the same attraction, but still, he stayed away.

By the time you took a break, the sun was gone, and it was dinner time. Henry chose a restaurant with the perfect ocean view and the sweetest breeze. There was nothing that could have been more perfect. As you sat at the table across from him, eating a classic seaside French meal—Bouillabaisse. As you ate, you listened to a story Henry told about his childhood and the reason why his parents had to put him and his brothers in different sports. It turned out their competitive natures was too much with all of them grouped together, the testosterone needed to be split up.

 It was nice getting a different viewpoint of him. Through his work, you got the professional view, and through the magazines and photoshoots the sex symbol view but hearing personal stories in the town where he’d chosen for holiday because of sentimental reasons at a restaurant he’d probably eaten at tens of times really made you want to get to know him better and give him a real chance. By the time you’d finished your dessert and began on your way back to the villa, you made the choice. Try.

 The house was quiet, and thanks to the windows and doors he’d left open, it smelled of sea salt, lemons, and the lavender that bathed the surrounding hills. It was a smell you’d gladly get used to.

 “Thank you for dinner,” you said once you were in the living room.

 “No need to thank me. You have to eat,” he replied with a polite smile that made you clench your jaw.

 “How um—how long have you been here?”

 “A few days.”

 You nodded but didn’t know what else to say. With the combination of the wine, the aphrodisiac oysters in the Bouillabaisse, and the smell of lavender, you felt a gentle lull of relaxation that made you feel ten times shier than you usually were. Henry didn’t speak though his eyes looked as if he had plenty to say. After a few minutes of silence, a confused look washed across his face before he looked down and sighed.

 “Good night, Aliya.”

 The words caught you off guard, but you nodded and hid it.

 “Good night, Henry.”

 It was a shaky whisper. You then watched Henry turn from you and walk off in the opposite direction than where your room was. You stood there for a few moments longer, debating with yourself on if you should follow him or not. When you thought to, you had no idea what you’d say when you did. When you finally decided just to call it a night, you’d stood in the dark living room for almost five minutes.

 After a quick shower, you laid in bed staring at the full moon through the window, hoping somehow sleep would claim you, but after forty minutes of tossing and turning, you gave up and watched the moon instead. For the first time in months, you didn’t feel the urge to work. All you felt was a stillness in you that was very new—but welcomed all the same.

 “Tomorrow is another day, Aliya. Make it right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[gamerwoo]

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits (Part Two)

(photo edit courtesy of @songmingki​)

Characters: Mingi x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, friends to lovers au, angst but not like hard angst it’s kinda mild tbh, lil bit of fluff

Word count: 1,913

Summary: Growing up, you and Mingi were inseparable. You’d been friends your entire life and, as far as you knew, things were never any different. But what you don’t know is that Mingi imprinted on you when he was 15 and first turned into a werewolf, and he had been trying to keep it a secret ever since. And with the awful timing of mating season, he’s hoping he can somehow keep the facade up.

Tags: @sakura-uji​ @xummie​ @peachy-hoon​ @psshwa​ @uglyratlmao​ @uwu-yifan​

Previous | Next | Friends with Benefits Masterlist

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and San had come home from classes together, walking through the front door as the two older boys scolded San about his grades. They walked down the hall and past the living room where you and Mingi were sitting on the couch, watching TV. One of your legs was flung over the arm of the couch as you leaned into Mingi, while your best friend was simply sitting straight beside you, keeping his eyes trained on the TV. You saw out of the corner of your eye the three boys barely glance over at you as the kept walking out of sight, before backing up and looking into the living room at the scene.

“What is he doing?” San whispered loud enough for his friends to hear -- they could hear way better than you thanks to their sharp senses -- but quiet enough that you didn’t hear a thing.

“Being a fucking moron,” Seonghwa replied.

You turned your head to look at the audience you now had, “Can I help you?”

Mingi’s eyes had flickered from where he was trying so hard to concentrate on the show, to his brothers. They could hear how fast his heart was beating and see the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, the way his hands clenched on his thighs, and the way he was basically straining himself to sit still.

Mating season was starting soon for him.

“Uh..._____,” Hongjoong stepped forward with his usual sweet smile, “do you wanna play some soccer in the backyard? I have some extra energy I need to burn.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” you grinned as you jumped up from your spot on the couch. You looked down at your best friend, “Mingi, you wanna ref?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he told you, trying to come across as completely normal.

But there was something off about him.

Still, you shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Then you followed Hongjoong out to the backyard.

As soon as you were gone, Seonghwa marched up to Mingi, grabbing the younger boy by his shirt and pulling him to his feet. Despite having height on the older boy, Seonghwa wasn’t afraid because he knew he had authority over Mingi.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Seonghwa demanded.

“Yes,” San answered for him with a nod.

This definitely wasn’t the first time Mingi had to go through rut and not let you know. But it seemed this time for some reason, he was being a little too bold for the pack’s liking. It was clear he was having some difficulty being so close to you -- thank god mating season hadn’t actually started for him or there would’ve been nothing to keep him from pouncing on you -- and that was just because he was so close to mating season starting. He definitely had balls to hang out with you alone so close to that time of year where he had to be away from you.

“Hwa, I was fine!” Mingi insisted, holding up his hands in surrender.

“You didn’t look fine,” San interjected, Mingi shooting him a glare to keep out of this.

“What if you hurt her, huh?” Seonghwa demanded. “What if you couldn’t fight the instinct? What if you did something bad to her?”

Mingi whined, “I wasn’t going to!”

“But you could’ve,” Seonghwa stated, giving Mingi a solid shake. “You can’t just act fine and then everything is fine. You can’t pull that shit this close to mating season.”

Seonghwa finally let the younger wolf go, and he frowned as he straightened out his shirt, “What are you, the alpha?”

“No,” Seonghwa offered him a tight smile, “but I know Joong is going to have a lot to say to you, too.”

-

Even though Hongoong never really had to deal with mates before -- even though he’d known you for a few years now but you weren’t properly Mingi’s mate -- he knew it was in his best interest to keep you safe rather than go deal with Mingi. That was why he chose to remove you from the situation and let Seonghwa deal with the younger wolf who clearly had some sort of lapse in judgement. Hongjoong definitely understood that Mingi had to act normally to keep their secret from you, but he didn’t need to take it that far. He should’ve just not invited you over.

“How many wins is that?” you chuckled as you lightly kicked the ball between your feet, quickly an eyebrow at Hongjoong.

He laughed, shaking his head, “Look, you did this for seven years. I’ve only casually played since I met you.”

“Yeah, you launched the ball straight into Wooyoung’s head the first day I met you,” you recalled with a loud laugh.

“But I’ve gotten better at not doing that,” he said proudly, spreading out in the goal to -- hopefully -- catch the ball.

Before you could even swing your leg back to kick the ball, the door opened and San shouted, “Hey!”

The two of you looked over, you lifting your baseball cap to run a hand through your hair before putting it back on your head as you squinted against the sun to see San in the doorway.

“Mingi wanted me to tell you he isn’t feeling well,” San called. “We brought him upstairs to bed but you probably shouldn’t bother him.”

You frowned with a sigh, nodding your head, “Yeah, alright. Thanks, San.”

Even though he could hear the slight disappointment in your voice, San nodded and went back inside.

“You okay?” Hongjoong wondered, resting his stance.

You let out air between your lips, your lips flapping like a horse for a few seconds as you tried to gather your thoughts, “Mingi always has something going on where he just disappears like, twice a year. He has since he ran away our freshman year of high school. I kind of expected it to happen again but it like, always happens. I dunno, I’m just worried, I guess.”

Hongjoong frowned. He knew you cared about Mingi, and he should’ve figured you would catch onto it after a while. He used to always use the fact he was ‘sick’ as an excuse, but he had to get more creative when you begged him to see a doctor his senior year since he was always getting really sick twice a year. It then became ‘I’m a counselor at a week-long sleepaway camp’ or ‘I’m going skiing with my friends’ or things like that. Anything where he could avoid you for about a week until he was feeling normal again. Because if you were around him while he was in rut, he would have zero self control and would pin you against anything and go crazy. That was the last thing any of them wanted.

“He’s just...” Hongjoong trails off as his eyes find Mingi’s window from the backyard, though the blinds are pulled shut so neither of you can see inside.

But Hongjoong already knows that Seonghwa has probably dragged him up to his bedroom and ordered him to stay there until the alpha comes in to scold him for being so careless with you. But he also knows staying away from your mate is difficult -- not that he knows personally but he’s heard.

And Hongjoong never finishes his sentence because honestly, he’s not really sure what to say.

-

You finish your game of soccer with Hongjoong early because you decide you’re not really in the mood to play anymore. You’re not really an emotional kind of person, but anyone can tell you’re bummed out because of Mingi. You know things will go back to normal after a week, but you just wish you understood why this pattern kept happening. What happened to Mingi when he ran away?

Honestly, your best bet was that he joined a cult.

As you were leaving the house, Jongho was getting out of his car, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He smiled at you as you passed by him to get to your car.

“Mingi’s girlfriend leaving so soon?” he joked -- well, as far as you knew.

Did you feel a little different toward Mingi ever since he came back freshman year, yes? You kind of thought maybe it was because you were afraid of losing him again, but it had stuck around until college, and that was a little weird to you. Still, you never said anything to him because you two had been best friends since you were babies. The two of you were voted ‘best partners in crime’ and ‘should’ve dated’ -- the latter was a little awkward since you were dating someone else at the time -- when you were seniors because of how close you were. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship because you were pretty sure he didn’t feel the same. He probably saw you as a sister. So you left things alone.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a playful smile, “Eat a dick, dude.”

His friends often teased you for being his ‘girlfriend’, and Mingi typically responded in the same fashion. But the teasing continued because his friends knew that while it embarrassed Mingi, it was the only way they could hint at how he felt about you.

“Why’re you leaving?” Jongho asked, turning around to keep talking to you. “You usually stay longer.”

You looked over your shoulder, this time rolling your eyes in a less playful way, “Mingi’s sick.”

“...Oh,” he nodded, already understanding the situation. “Well, uh, we could hang out tomorrow after classes if you want? Maybe go get slushies at the gas station or something?”

Even though Mingi’s friends would never replace him, they had become your friends since you were around them so often. And whenever Mingi was away, they always offered to do things with you like go to the arcade or get pizza at the beach or something. 

You shrugged, unlocking your car and opening the door, “We’ll see.”

After waving a quick goodbye, Jongho went into the house. He could hear Hongjoong raising his voice a little at Mingi from outside, but he had drowned it out so he could converse with you. But now that he was inside and saw Seonghwa and San sitting on the couch watching the show that you and Mingi had left on, he was more intrigued.

“Mingi started mating season already?” he wondered.

From upstairs, he heard the wolf in question reply, “I did not!”

“You’re too close to it to have _____ around,” Hongjoong reminded him, his voice also traveling from upstairs.

It was true, it was supposed to start really soon. Nobody could ever place the exact day, but they kept track of around what times in the year it happened. It was like having your period but minus the blood -- for males, anyway -- and with a lot more sexual aggression.

“So the excuse this time is that he’s sick?” Jongho asked before adding on, “Again?”

“What did you want me to say?” Seonghwa asked. “They were sitting on the couch together so it was the only thing that made sense. I couldn’t say he suddenly went off on vacation, now could I?”

“We always keep _____ away from the house, anyway,” San shrugged, waving the problem away. “It’ll be fine. She never questions it, anyway.”

“She will question it eventually,” Seonghwa pointed out. “We can’t keep this up forever, and neither can Mingi.”

[oppabimbab]

sequel: did we make it right? | kim taehyung

genre: heavy angst, tiny bit of smut, break up

starring: taehyung x reader

synopsis:  you broke up with him and the phase of moving on—you didn’t know it would be this hard. You wanted him here but somehow, it feels like letting go is the best and the only choice you had in your hands, isn’t it? or not?

words:  8,972 words

side note: so this sequel happened since yall cried bc of prev fics and many of you wanted the second part of that. here we go. sorry for the grammar errors and any kind of faulty. i tried my best to keep the plot as it was planned and i still think this isn’t my best edits yet but enjoy!

recommended songs: moon and back - alice kristiansen | run to you - lea michele

related: maybe, it wasn’t right | kim taehyung

**

You had no idea that moving on would be this hard. It has been almost 6 months since the relationship ended and these past 6 months—were never that easy. It was harder than everyone have told you about. They said it would be easy but not once you found yourself in a right state of mind. They said everything will be just fine but you still found yourself in the midst of grief. 6 months—You never knew that time flew this quick even though every day felt like nothing but misery to you.

Break up wouldn’t be easy. And you agreed. It was a torture.

There were some part of healing that you didn’t understand. It was weird and confusing. Some days, you find yourself laughing and smiling like you had the entire world in your hands. You ate well, get enough sleep and happy. And some days, you would stopped talking to anyone—not even your bestfriend Wendy and locked yourself up in that stuffy room. You woke up with swollen eyes and broken heart like the wound was still fresh and bleeding. It was heavy and difficult. It made you confused and clueless. It became more confusing when you couldn’t find any reasons to move on if everything reminded you of him.

You tried to avoid his favorite songs every time it came on the radio. You changed the channel if his favorite movies shown up on the screen. You even stopped looking at everything that remind you of him. You forced yourself even it was really hard not to curl on your bed and cry. They were all a torture.

Honestly, if you asked yourself, you would agree that it still hurts like hell. The pain was still there, reminding you every day how unwanted you were. The memories on that night kept pulling your skin and made it bleed—reminding you that he wasn’t yours from the very first start. It still torn you down and drained the energy that was barely there. You couldn’t remember how many times the ugly tears would fall down in a very random place.

You were having the casual night, watching some movies with Wendy then the next second, she was there—patting your back as you bawled your eyes out because you remembered him. You wanted him, here.

Let alone when you needed to take few minutes break from your work at the office just to spend some tears inside the toilet—thinking how cruel he was for making you like this. He was really cruel.

You wondered—how was he? Did he cried when you left? Did he go through those sleepless nights like you did? Perhaps, did he ever think of you when he heard your favorite songs? Was he in pain, just like you?

6 months have passed yet It was never that easy to forget him.

When nights fall, you would silently scrolled down to the old messages you have shared with him. Taehyung was a bad texter. He hated texting because he said he preferred to see you more than doing the dry text all day. Once, both of you got into argument because of how bad he was.

“Are you serious?” you frowned at him—crossing your arms while you stood there. You weren’t happy now and of course, he knew why.

“What?” he chuckled as he munched on his favorite snacks, watching his favorite movies. Probably confused as hell why were you acting like this at 11pm. You rolled your eyes.

“You said you would text me when you got home yesterday? But you didn’t?” you pouted—scrolling through the messages from yesterday before you looked back at him. He raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t? I thought i did?” he grinned and just like that, he was really a bad texter.

“Baby!! I got worried for nothing. I thought you were kidnapped,” you thumped your feet softly on the ground—trying to protest at him like an annoying clingy girlfriend.

He let out a hearty laugh at you. His eyes disappeared when he laughed and weirdly, you loved that. You hid the smile that was slowly plastering your face.

“Who would want to kidnap me though?I’m big and huge, unlike you,” he scrunched his nose at you, probably amused at you and your sudden clingy self. Your eyes widen at him, almost choking at his choice of words. A small laugh escaped your mouth.

“Big? Are you really that big?” you mocked while squinting your eyes. Taehyung hated it when that tone came out from your mouth. He cocked his brows. A grin showed up on his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. Or should I remind you?” he bit his lower lip before pulling you closer to him. You squealed when he made you sit on his lap when you supposed to be mad—making him giggled at your quirky squeal as he planted hundreds kisses on your jaw—stroking your hips softly. You couldn’t help but laughing.

“Hmmm. You smell so good. Did you change your shampoo?” he mumbled through the kiss. You slapped his shoulder and looked down at his hooded eyes. A happiness bloomed in your heart at the sight. Nothing fancy. Just his presence was enough. Crazy.

“So, you’re going to change the subject again like you did last time?”

“Yes,” he grinned. You groaned jokingly. Taehyung knew your weak spot and he never failed to use that. And you weren’t complaining either.

When the memories came up, you were left helpless and vulnerable again and again. You wished it never ended. You wished the memories shouldn’t be called memories because you wanted to feel it everyday.

There were a lot of them and every day, you would remember it like a diary. His pictures—he loved to send you those random pictures of him, his dog Yeontan and sometimes, those things that remind him of you. 2k pictures from him—you still kept them nicely inside your phone.

You would read those old messages from him without realising a trail of tears were streaming down in the corner of your eyes. You didn’t realise the same tears kept you company every night without fail. He was gorgeous. You missed his raspy laughter. The way he pinned his body against yours because you were cold. Those sleepy voice echoed through the room when he woke up next to you—begging you to stay with him for few more minutes.

And just like that, the entire night was spent with the silent cry from your mouth. It happened everyday and you didn’t know how to make this stop.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him. Fucking asshole,” Wendy groaned in frustrations while you were beside her—sobbing. The first few weeks of break up, you chose to keep quiet about it because you had no energy to tell anyone about this. And when you decided to tell her, of course, she was mad. As hell.

“If he still wants that girl so much, why the fuck did he date you for 1 fucking year? Are you kidding me? Did you look like a joke? Oh god,” her eyes were gleaming with fire as she couldn’t hide the anger in her voice. The scrambled egg was left cold because she lost her appetite already. That morning felt intense and gloomy than ever. Wendy was a very straight forward woman. Even you were here sobbing like a crazy woman, she cursed the fuck out whenever she pissed off.

You shrugged, wiping your eyes with the tissues.

“Maybe if I was enough-“

“Enough? For god sake, you are more than enough. You gave everything you had, what else did he want?” her voice soften when she noticed your flushed face. As she came closer, she pulled you into her tiny embrace. Again, you broke down. You wished she was right. You wished you had given everything.

“Babe, you are the kindest person I have ever met in my entire life. You are beautiful, gentle and selfless. I’m so sorry you had to go through this. You don’t deserve this,” her voice broke a little when she heard you crying. She was a very sensitive person because the next second, you heard her tiny sob. You hope somebody could feel what was inside your heart now.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know, Wendy. I’m really sad,” she rubbed your back softly as you forced yourself to talk. It felt like a huge chunk just got stucked in your throat. You couldn’t talk.

“Please take your time. It will be okay. It should be okay, I promise you,” she whispered.

Months have passed. Will it be okay?

You leaned against the leather seat as you finished the last document for the day. It was a long day yet you be able to survive it even in such state. You gave a soft pat on your shoulder before gathering all the paper works to give to your boss before you leave. It was already Friday. Time flew quicker than you imagined.

Switching off the computer and grabbing your stuffs, you counted the steps to the huge room, few metres from your desk before you knocked on the door. A soft hum was heard few seconds later and you entered it.

“Good evening, sir. Here is the edited financial reports that you’ve requested before. I’ve made a few edits and please let me know if there is more faulty,” you cracked a soft smile across your lips as you put the plastic file on the table. You tried to sound professional as much as you could do even in this messy state of mind. You glanced at the young man—standing at the book shelf.

“Good work, thank you,” he nodded. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he looked at you. You returned the same thing to him while you stood there, at the edge of the his desk.

“If that’s all, I’m leaving first, sir. Thank you for today,” you bowed politely before you turned your heels. Few steps ahead and he called you again. You looked back at him and this time, he was already leaning against the desk, crossing his arms on the chest—staring at you with frowned brows.

“Can I ask you something? I hope it’s not something personal to you,” Mingyu voiced out—looking straight into your tired and confused eyes. You sure everyone could see how tired you were because you didn’t plan to hide it either. It drained your energy to fake anything now.

“Sure. What’s it, sir?”

“Are you okay?” his voice soften along with his eyes—gazing at you like a melted honey. The tension frown disappeared from his face and it was replaced by a worried gaze. You were a little surprised at his question especially when he looked at you like he knew something was bothering you. It looked like he knew something was wrong with you.

Mingyu has been always that kind of person and you were fully aware about that. The relationship you shared with him was fully business and you barely talked to each other once the office hours ended but sometimes, it felt more than that.

The way he guided you during your first few months as his clumsy secretary, the way he spoke to you even you screwed up too many times, the way he handled those mistakes caused by you—you knew Mingyu was a very gentle person. Rather than making himself as that cold and egoistic boss, he made sure that you could look up to him every time you were in need. Even so, you didn’t want to see his kindness as something that involved love like everyone claimed—deep inside, he treated everyone just as nice as he treated you.

He was a gentleman—with maturity. For real, you couldn’t ask anything more than that because that was enough.

You finally get it why Taehyung disliked him. You flinched slightly, trying to get him off your mind.

“Yes. Of course I am,” you faked a laughter even his eyes were striking into yours, completely unconvinced with your lies. He exhaled, silent for few seconds.

“You’ve lost your focus these past few months. I don’t know, you did your job perfectly but something is off. Are you okay? Is there something bothering you?” His voice has soften a bit—he probably noticed the changes on your face which was something you wanted to hide.

“I’m really sorry, sir. I will do it better next time,” honestly, you had no idea what exactly should you reply to that? Were you okay? Were you good? Definitely not. He shook his head, still unconvinced.

“That’s not answering my question,”

“Uhm,” you hesitated. Your lips turned into thin line.

“Actually, there are few things that have been bothering me but they are minors. I’m completely fine....yes, everything is just fine. Maybe it’s me being easily tired but really, i’m good. Don’t worry, sir,” you tried to sound convincing to someone that observant like Mingyu. He was really sensitive to little changes. You didn’t know he noticed those changes in yourself more than you did.

“If you need days off, please ask me for that. I don’t want you to overwork yourself too much. You’re important,” he looked serious without any hint of smile on his face as his eyes never left yours. His eyes were so intense and you wonder, why was that? Mingyu had such beautiful pair of deep eyes and you couldn’t deny that.

When he noticed a small smile crept on your lips, he spoke again.

“....as my secretary. You’re important to this company,” he corrected himself while adjusting his throat—his eyes immediately left yours as you still stared at him with a small smile. You chuckled—looking down to your feet. He was oddly cute for some reason.

“I know, sir. I appreciate that. But, i’m really fine. I still can go to work tomorrow. I can stay overtime if you want me to,��� you smiled at him sincerely—showing off the beautiful smile you barely shown to anyone these past few months. But, this time, you find yourself loosened up for something very weird.

A small raspy giggle left his mouth as he shook his head. Mingyu got off from the edge of the table before he came to the desk to clean up the papers and stuff. You supposed, he was about to leave so you waited for him to finish.

“That’s good to hear. I’d like my best worker back....Alright, that’s all for today, You can leave now,” he flashed you another soft smile. You bowed politely.

When you thought it finally came to end, he called you again. This time—he came closer to you, towering your petite figure under his built. His scent—sweat and cologne filled up your sense, making you looked up at him.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, kind of,”

“Great. Dinner’s on me tonight,” he grinned before he left you alone in the empty room—completely speechless at his sudden gesture. That was quick and random.

“But, sir I-,”

“You can’t say no to your boss, can you?” his voice echoed through the office as he already few steps ahead from you. That was it. You couldn’t say no to your boss, could you?

For few moment, you felt comfort. A sincere one.

**

The whole ride was filled with soft music from his radio along with the soft breeze, coming from outside. None of you both started any conversation since 10 minutes ago. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable but it felt more like both of you were enjoying this silence.

“Do you have any plan tonight? I mean...you know, it’s Friday,” when you were too immersed in such silence, he spoke out—bringing you back to the reality after been lost in your own thoughts. God knows how many time you have spaced out like this. You despised this side of you.

“Uhm, no honestly. I’m planning to eat then sleep until next morning,” you replied while letting out a faded chuckle. The next second, you immediately realised how pathetic that sounded like. Mingyu must be thinking that you were such an anti social and depressed bitch. But, you has always been like this since forever.

He giggled while nodding.

“I don’t know why but I kinda knew you would say that. That sounds very of you,” his deep husky voice filled up the car space along with the small laughter coming out from his mouth. You glanced at him, hiding a smile. You weren’t sure if he already recognised your traits for these past 2 years of working together but for some reason, it was kinda cute that he noticed the littlest thing about you.

“You can’t stop me,sir” you replied, almost chuckling with him.

“Can you do me a favor? Drop the honorific when the office hours ended. I think it’s better that way, it’s not like we are discussing about that annoying client we hated the most though,” he said in a very straight voice.

Without you realised, the car was filled with your laughter when you couldn’t hold yourself from laughing at his remarks. That was the most random shit you have ever heard from him. Mingyu looked surprise but a soft chuckle left his mouth.

“I can’t believe you said that. You hate her too? I thought it’s only me who hated her for no reason,” it was hard for you to utter the words as you were still laughing—covering your mouth with the back of your hand. He nodded with a grin across his lips.

When you have calmed down, he spoke again.

“Can you do that?” he met your eyes. Curling your lips, you nodded.

“I’ll try, Mingyu,” you hid a smile. His small dimple appeared right away—eyebrows raised.

“Without doubt, huh?” he teased. Again, the car was filled with nothing but his small chuckle and your soft smile.

The weird thing is, you felt a warmth for the first time from someone you had the least expectations from.

When both of you arrived at the restaurant, it was packed and crowded—completely something that you hated the most. The last time you went to such place was few weeks ago, thanks to Wendy’s pushy ass.

Both you and Mingyu came inside—finding a table to grab a dinner and go. But, it seemed like it wouldn’t happen because when you looked around, you found that eyes again. Out of those stranger eyes, you would still find that eyes again. Eyes that you have lost.

You saw his boxy smile—twinkling like it always does while his eyes—gleaming with the same sparkle. They were beautiful and painfully gorgeous that you almost forgot everything around you. Again, the universe seemed it was fading away from you.

But, he wasn’t alone. She was there—with him. The woman whom you wished you wouldn’t be seeing again—sharing the same smile and laughter—with him. Those gazes, you sure, they were filled with love.

The wound inside your chest, it was ripped open again.

**

Everything about this was tiring. Your body was tired. Your mental was tired. Your soul—it died. You tried to comprehend and see the good things from this stage of your life but why did it seem like nothing would work out? Why were you still here, alone with the same wound again?

It was unfair. Why was it only you, who suffered the pain of this break up? Why did it look like none of these things affect him as much as it did to you? Why did your heart still ache so much like this even 6 months have passed? There were so many questions that held you like a knife—stabbing you for the same reason again and again.

The same warm tears fell down—wetting your face for millionth times as you found yourself to be sitting on the bench at a park, not to far from the restaurant. The people seemed to be freaked out since you were there—sobbing silently like a weak bitch even you have told yourself to stop being this weak. Nothing worked out. None of them.

Honestly, you hated this. There were so many changes in yourself and you hated that.

“I found you,” the familiar voice echoed through the cold space before you looked up at your side with tears streaming down to your chin.

There was Mingyu—breathless as he tried to catch some breath from running too much. He must be running around to find you since you left the restaurant in just blink of eyes. Silence filled the gap between you and him while he stared at you and your pathetic self. It was embarassing and you wanted to disappear.

He heaved a soft sigh before slowly making the gap disappeared as he sat next to you.

“So, I believe, that thing, it bothered you these past few weeks? Your boyfriend?” he spoke and from the corner of your eyes, you could feel his gaze glued at you. With these swollen eyes and state, how the hell could you look at him?

“Ex boyfriend,” you replied. He nodded.

“I understand,” he exhaled, taking his eyes off you and looked around as if he let you to calm yourself down from the tragic sobbing. He probably noticed that you wanted to hide yourself from him so he looked away, letting both of you immersed in a night silence.

“It is hard and complicated,” without you realised, you spoke out in such a defeated voice. It was still vulnerable. And Mingyu finally saw that side of you.

He curled his lips.

“Break up will always be difficult. Don’t believe it when they say it’s not,” he met your teary eyes. His gaze was soft and dreamy. He probably saw all the pain in them that he chose to keep staring at you.

“I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want to forget him. Not yet. Not forever. It’s crazy,” you wiped the remaining tears in the corner of your eyes using the back of your hands as you looked down to the ground.

“Do you still love him?” he spoke as he looked straight to the busy streets across the park. You nodded as the remaining tears stained your cheeks. After all these while, you didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if he find you weird—crying over someone like this even in fact, you shouldn’t have anymore.

“Aren’t you hurted? By still holding on to the past?” Mingyu cocked his head at you. His brown orbs were shining under such dim street lights above both of you. They were blinking like a pearl, something you have never seen it before. Rather than looking disgusted or uncomfortable, you could see a hint of reassurance in them eyes.

“It hurts so bad, Mingyu,” your voice cracked as you felt his gaze seemed never left yours before he exhaled. He looked up to the sky and sighed again.

“You know, there is a thing that I strongly disagree since forever. They said love is about timing, where you found your soul mate at the right time and be happy, also at the right time....” he stopped. There was a short silence.

Then he filled the air with his voice again.

“....but I believe, love is about what has been written for you,” a faded smile appeared again.

“It will always be difficult to get over someone.... whom you thought would be here with you for the rest of your life,” he added.

“...but you know, love isn’t about staying until the end. It’s not always about holding on from the beginning. Sometimes....it’s about letting go even it’s going to break every parts of you,”

When both of you found each other’s eyes—you could feel your heart clenched so much that it suffocated you to the edge. You felt every pieces of you were scattered all over the place again because deep inside, you knew it was true. You wanted to deny but It was painfully true. Fuck this.

“No, please,” curling yourself, you sobbed into your hands. Everything about this was hard. You weren’t ready. The next second, you felt his warmth beside you as he scooted closer. The same cologne filled your sense before he whispered.

“Can I hug you? To ease the pain even a little?” you weren’t supposed to hug your own boss but weird thing, you found yourself nodding at him. Probably, begging for some comfort that been slowly losing from your system. And, Just like that, you were so deep in his embrace—in an embrace that wasn’t Taehyung’s.

Part of you was so in pain. You wished it was him, hugging you this way. You wished it was him—comforting you this way because world knows, everything will be just fine. But, he wasn’t here anymore and you weren’t sure how to get used to that.

You pulled Mingyu closer to you and sobbed on his chest—like you did to yourself every nights. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you like he never wanted you to fall apart like this. It felt like he knew how painful it was so he was there, to put the scattered pieces, back as a whole.

It was weird. You knew there was a goodbye few months ago when you chose to leave but now, why did it feel like everything was finally over? It felt like you have lost that 1 chance and hope—leaving you this helpless.

“Let the grief go and set him free. You deserve to be happy. Genuinely happy,” he whispered—pulling you closer.

You sobbed. He was your happiness but it seemed like you need to replace it with a new one.

**

Another 2 months have passed. Nothing has changed drastically in your life except the fact that Mingyu has become a new part of your life. You couldn’t believe that night would be the night where both of you went deeper than you had before. He wasn’t yours and you weren’t his but the relationship has changed especially when he helped you moving on. Mingyu knew how and when to be gentle whenever you were around. It looked like he studied every little about your traits and tried to get along with it without disrespecting you in some kind of way.

You appreciate his presence so much. His presence was new yet comfortable—that you were still trying to get adjusted to it even sometimes, you got confused and lost. The weird part—Mingyu was the opposite side of Taehyung.

He loved to cook whenever he had the chance to do so and surprisingly, was good at it. He was huge fan of romance and melancholy genre—you still remembered when he kept you company, watching the same cliche kdramas without whining and complaining about how sucks the genre is.

He loved the smell of pastry—he loved the beauty of the evening sky—he loved the sound of the ocean. Those things that you barely heard from your ex. Indeed, there were new.

Some days, it felt perfect. Almost perfect. The heart break was slowly taken away from you and your days started to fill with laughter and smile. The heaviness in your heart got lifted for a moment, leaving you with nothing but a temporary happiness. It was genuine, all because of him. And you didn’t plan to push him away because there was some part of you, longing for his presence but you had no idea on what reason.

“Are you serious?” your eyes got widen as your gaze was glued on his face that had grin all over it. He curled his lips and nodded before taking the usual monthly reports from you.

The dried saliva in your throat was swallowed forcefully—making him chuckled.

“You’re asking me to go to a party with you? I supposed it isn’t a good idea, sir,” you kept the professionalism as both of you were still in the office—the boss and the worker but you couldn’t hide the tone that coming out along with the words. He shrugged.

“I couldn’t attend it last year and I don’t plan to do that again. And also, I don’t plan to go there by myself either,” he sounded very casual and straight forward—completely ignoring your widen eyes. A slight hum from you filled the space.

“That sounds sad,” you scoffed jokingly before you took back the signed report from him. His small dimple appeared.

“I guess that’s a yes? Great, you sure know what’s the best,”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything,”

“Okay, are you coming with me?” he crossed his arms—showing off his veiny arms while raising the eyebrows at you. For some reason, your heart thumped at the sight because he sure looked hot. You adjusted your throat as you looked back at him.

“I’m coming,” you said, almost rolling your eyes because he definitely knew you were going to say yes—as you witnessed a small satisfied smile plastered on his lips. He looked fierce yet soft, you don’t understand.

“Great. I’m going to pick you up tomorrow, at 8. Are we good?”

“We good, sir,” you scrunched your nose at him before you excused yourself to leave. He gave you a thumbs up as you left

You weren’t sure if he made you come as his secretary or something more than that.

**

You couldn’t help the nervous sweat that have been wetting your hands when you saw how huge the party is. Now, you weren’t sure if the basic black dress that been wrapping your curvy figure was a good choice since everyone looked damn good. Is this make up okay? This hair?

“Mingyu, I feel uncomfortable,” you leaned closer to his side while whispering to his ear, as both of you walked inside the bar. Of course it was crowded with so many people that seemed to be his friends because each seconds, his name was called.

“Just stay with me, you’ll get used to this,” he whispered softly before you could feel his warm hand sealing yours as he guided you through the crowd. There wasn’t any response from you as you let him take you to anywhere he liked while he introduced you to anyone he bumped to. He wanted you to be by his side so bad because swear to god, his hand felt like glue—it was sealed perfectly inside yours.

“Now, let’s meet my friend. He’s over there,” Mingyu said with a grin to you as he took you to the corner—making your heels clank on the marble floor. Every steps felt like fire because your heart thumped for no reason. They were beating so hard that it made you anxious for nothing.

When you finally reached the table, a gush of air left your lungs immediately when you saw him. Again.

It made you freeze on the ground—making you stood there like a statue as you felt all of the gazes were glued on you. You didn’t give any damn about anyone at the table because the only matters right now was his gaze—it felt like a fire on your body. You met his eyes again after the last time it broke you. He looked surprise to see you here, standing across him, in someone’s hand. Perhaps, he thought you were so in love and happy with someone new. Your heart thumped at the sight before you looked away.

“Thanks for inviting us, bro, it’s been a long time since I met you. Oh and this is my date for tonight,” Mingyu spoke as a proud grin plastered all over his face—greeting those people at the table without noticing you were completely out of zone. Wooshik greeted him back before he averted his attention at you.

“You look good like you always do. I’m glad you come,” he smiled—making you return the same thing. Of course he knew you. He was around when you dated Taehyung. Wooshik witnessed your journey with him until it ended. You glanced at Seojun and Hyungsik, who were also flashing you a soft smile. Those guys, it felt weird to see them after the break up.

“Thank you, Wooshik. The party is great,” clenching into your small pouch, you scooted closer to Mingyu, tugging his arms around yours—completely ignoring Taehyung’s eyes on you even it almost made your legs become wobbly and shit. Mingyu smiled at your gesture because he knew what was inside your mind. Without any doubt, he took your hands inside his. The atmosphere changed. There was a short silence.

“Enjoy the party, you two. Let me know if you need something,” Wooshik spoke—there were changes in his face, he probably finds it weird that you were now in someone else’s arms instead of his friend. You were sure everyone finds it’s weird that both you and him were no longer together in just blink of eyes even yesterday the world saw how deep the love was. It was indeed weird because the next thing you realised, you were in different home.

Every sips of alcohol that glided into your throat felt like nothing but a poison. The crowded place were damn noisy and full of emotions but you were here at the corner with the emptiest heart instead of having fun—like Mingyu have always told you. You should be having fun tonight but it seemed like nothing ever worked out on you.

It’s crazy that both of you were in a same place but the distance felt way too significant. He was over, probably happy and in love. You were over here with your empty heart.

Somehow, you hated him so much. Why would he always come up whenever you were at your peak—building yourself back? Why would those images of them two slapped you—shoving the damn thorns and blood to your heart whenever you were trying to be fine?

“Are you okay?” you flinched a little when the warm whisper touched your ears before you find Mingyu, by your side. Every time you looked at him, you couldn’t help but feel bad. How the hell could he still keep up with your sudden mood swings and bullshits like this? The weird part, he always treated at you like the whole world belonged to you.

“Yeah. I’m good,” you replied—forcing a smile. It was very artificial. He curled his lips as he stared into your eyes without saying anything. Both of you exchanged such an intense eye contacts for few moments before he took your hand—gesturing you to dance with him. You were left in hesitation but just like always, you would say yes.

His hand, you let them sealed with yours. The next second, you realised that he took you to the center of the bar before the warmth from his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to his body. Your whole body froze when his deep eyes strike into yours when you looked up. Mingyu was tall that your petite figure almost got disappeared inside his embrace.

“Put your hands on my chest,” he whispered down at you—making you slowly do as what he told you. You weren’t sure if everyone was looking at both of you but the thing is, your skin—it tingled.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful today?” after such silence, he spoke again.

Chills running down your spine when he added.

“You look amazing in this dress. I think I’m falling in love,”

When he said that,it felt like there was a huge chunks in your throat because you barely can breathe when your sense came back. The courage to look at him was gone immediately when you finally understand what he just said.

“Mingyu...” you whispered—trying to make this conversation as clear as possible. He needed to repeat himself because you were afraid that you might be wrong even you heard him crystal clear. His hands slid behind your back to pull you closer—making your face was few inches away from him.

“Please...let me love you,” he said.

“Mingyu, what are you saying?” you whispered back at him.

“I know, I know. This is too sudden for you but please....let me love you. Let me heal you,” he looked down, breaking the eye contact from you. There was a desperation in those eyes, leaving you without words. He sounded needy and desperate. After all these while, you never know he was in love with you. You had no idea, not even once.

“How can we do this? We barely know each other. I’m scared,” you spoke to him—finding his eyes again. The more you stared at him, the more it made you confused you—how couldn’t you see that before? They were obvious.

“We can make this work, I promise you. We can do this. Gosh, I love you so much,”

A small smile appeared on his lips. Mingyu was one gorgeous man. He spoke with his eyes and heart.

Silence filled the gap.

“Can I kiss you?”

You wanted to say no but the next second, you found yourself nodding at him. You wanted to get off from his arms but you let him touch you even deep inside, your heart felt heavy.

The next second, you felt his lips against yours. They were sealed perfectly, spreading his warmth against your trembling lips. Mingyu secured his arms on your back when he noticed you were stumbling on your feet as the kiss deepen. His lips felt nice but why were your heart still empty? Why didn’t you feel any emotions in your heart when he kissed you like this? The worst part—why did you still have Taehyung’s image in your mind even after all these while?

The kiss lasted for few seconds before Both of you pulled away from each other and panted hard. You looked down to your feet—catching some air and a piece of reality. Time has froze around you, you couldn’t really process anything about this yet.

“Don’t touch her,” before you could get back to your sense, you felt a tight grip around your arms—pulling you away from Mingyu.

There was Taehyung, standing so close here as he glared at him with so much fire in his deep eyes. His eyes were already that deep but with fire, they were really intimidating. His jaw clenched a lot, his body tensed up with anger. Your eyes widen at him. Why was he here?

“Don’t fucking touch her again,” he grunted like a tiger before taking your hand and took you away from the place. There was nothing come out from your mouth as you followed him to anywhere he wanted to bring you.

You shouldn’t do that but you did.

**

“Let me go!!! What the hell are you doing?” you screamed at him when you were stumbling on the ground—almost hurting your feet. Few more steps, he let you go.

“What are you doing with him?” Taehyung grunted under his breath—his chest pound like he was holding such anger. You frowned at him.

“Why do you care so much? Let me go,” you spat as you tried to push him away but unlucky you, he was way much stronger

“Why are you kissing him? Why did you let him touched you?!” his jaw clenched a lot as he found your eyes even in such dark alley. You used to see sparkle in them but this time, it was a fire and you had no idea why would he act this way when everything was over now?

“It’s none of your business, Taehyung! Everything that happen in my life, you don’t need to know. Go kiss your girlfriend and leave me alone,” you yelled even your legs almost turn wobbly because of his fiery eyes. The words felt like thorns in your mouth and his presence still affected you this much, he probably knew that.

He looked stunned.

“After all these while, why do you care so much about me? I thought you said you wanted her but why are you here, dragging me from him? Why?” the quiet alley was filled with your fiery voice between you and him.

“Look.....I know, I know...I’ve fucked everything about us. Everything we had. I get it why it you are this mad because....gosh, this is crazy,” he ran his fingers through his wavy hair while sighing to the cold air. He sounded so frustrated and guilty that it made you become more furious.

“Oh for god sake, please. I don’t want your sorry. Just never show up again, please. You don’t know how hard it is for me to erase you from my life. You hurted me, Taehyung...” you stopped for a while because fuck this, the same tears were pooling in your eyes again.

The painful memories showed up again.

“...You broke me so much. So please, leave me alone. I’m tired,” You weren’t sure if those words were true. You weren’t sure if you really wanted him to leave you alone.

You thought the conversation was over when there was barely any response from him but the next second, he pulled you and pinned you against the cold wall of the small alley—trapping you between his arms. A small whimper escaped your mouth at the cold contact while his face was only few inches away from you that you could his hot minty breath. Teary eyes to such deep pair of eyes. What a moment.

“I never wanted to hurt you like this,”

“You probably get sick of me already but for the remaining minutes, I wanted you to know that—every part of me, never wanted to bring so much pain to you, like this,” you caught his eyes even it was really dark. They have soften. There was no more anger and fire. Don’t know why but It made your heart clench even more.

“Are you still in love with me?” out of sudden, he asked you.

“Why does that matter now?” your voice faded.

“Say that you don’t love me anymore and I will let you go to him. Say that so I know.....when you go back home, there is no more piece of me that would hurt you like this,” his eyes tremble. Fear and pain. Tears pooled again in your eyes. The blood could stain your lips from bitting it too much.

When you couldn’t answer it, he spoke again.

“Push me away if that’s the answer,”

And just like that, he crashed his mouth against yours. The kiss was deep—deeper than the last time you had with him when you chose to let him go. His lips—that was 8 months ago since you got to taste it and they still have the same flavour. Sweet and addictive. Like a drug. Taehyung grunts in the kiss as deepen the kiss by pulling your face closer—savouring your mouth like he missed it.

You hated yourself. You knew you already had the answer for Mingyu’s question because the next thing you realised, you didn’t push Taehyung away. Instead, you kissed him back like tomorrow doesn’t exist.

**

“Ah!!” a sweet erotic moan escaped your mouth as he planted trail of kisses along your bare chest—sucking and biting into the flesh, leaving some marks on your body. His kisses were rushed yet it never stopped sending chills and tingles to every part of your skin.

He stopped kissing you as he pulled the wet panty from your hips—showing off the dripping liquid from the pussy. You moan to the air when the cold breeze touched your bare core that it immediately made you missed his warmth. He stared at you for few seconds before coming down to your wet entrance.

“Oh my god, Taehyung!” you screamed out loud as you felt his warm tongue all over the throbbing clit. He sucked on your clitoris while grunting and groaning which sent so much electricity to all over your body. Mouth opened, body arched—you called his name like it was the only thing in your mind. You lowered your gaze down at him while moaning, just to find his eyes—were looking straight into yours. Swear to god, you heart thumped a lot. You fisted into his hair—pulling him deeper.

When he thrusted his tongue inside your core, a gush of air left your lungs immediately, making you scream his name as he stared at you. That was hot and your pussy clenched for more. Taehyung kept licking, sucking, eating you out and you never know you have been missing this intimacy with him. He always make you feel good. This good.

A knot started to twirl in your lower abdomen whenever he thrusted his tongue into you with no mercy. It felt like heaven.

“I’m so close,” you cried out and not long after, you cummed—making him lick your juice all over your pussy without taking his eyes off you. That was really hot, you couldn’t contain the overwhelming cloud in your chest everytime you met his beautiful eyes.

Then, he got off from the bed to unbuckle the belt around his waist before undressed the pants from his body—leaving the huge bulge under the boxer to your sight. His cock was throbbing hard inside the fabric and when he pulled his boxer down, your pussy clenched for him. You wanted him to touch you again and do whatever he wanted to do with your body.

“Ride me,” he grunted before crawling back on the bed, sitting with his back on the headboard as he waited for you to climb on him. The veins along his neck and arms were making it’s hard for you to think straight. Your mouth felt dry.

Slowly, you crawled on top of him, sitting on his thigh as you placed your hands on his shoulder for support. Lips were bitten when you caught his eyes before you slowly placed his member on your entrace before sitting on them—burying it deep inside your tight and wet pussy. Taehyung groaned—staring at how deep he buried inside you while you were here with a breathy moan escaped from your mouth.

God, it felt so good. Your legs tremble at the sudden contact—making him secure his hands on your hips as you started to bounce and move your body on him. The pace was slow and intoxicating. He was really big and the fact that you needed to adjust to his size, you never knew it has been a while since he made love to you like this.

Squeezing your eyes, your chin was lifted to the air along with the scream and moan from your mouth. He grabbed onto your hips—making you move back and forth on his dick while groaning with you, so the room was filled with nothing else but the sound of skin slapping that got louder each time you buried himself in you. You’ve lost your mind, you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. Why did the pleasure feel much more stronger now when both of you were no longer together?

“Fuck. Oh fuck,” he grunted through gritted teeth, pulling you closer to deepen the thrusted. Chin up to the air, you cried his name out—digging your nails into his shoulder whenever he quicken the pace. His cock was slapping your weak spot over and over again. It drive you crazy.

“Taehyung....” you whined—the courage to look at him were suddenly gone as you felt your chest was somehow heavy.

When you realised that you be able to touch him again like this—you felt like you just woken up from such nightmare. You could feel his skin, his lips, his eyes against yours—after being so lost and alone. You’ve missed him so much but you had no idea it was this much. 

Your cheeks were stained again. As he kept thrusting inside you, you couldn’t help the heavy cloud in your chest—making your silently sob on his shoulder. He wanted to look at you but you didn’t want to so you kept your face buried on his shoulder. You have lost that courage to see his eyes at times like this.

“You always feel this good. I’ve missed you,” he whispered along with a faint grunt—making you moan out loud with tears falling down from your eyes. It was a weird combination. Moaning and screaming his name in every thrusts, both of you were reaching the climax.

Few more thrust, he cum inside you—filling every space of your core with his warm release as your body jerked and flinched at the contact. Your legs felt like a jelly that you almost fell from him but he grabbed your hips right away.

Both you and Taehyung were panting hard on each other’s body after such intense and quick sex. You weren’t sure what was that sex for? Was this a goodbye sex or make up sex?

There was only silence but then, it was replaced with your small sob. The tears kept falling down from your eyes and stained his shoulder as you buried your face on the crook of his neck. The emotions that lingers in your head were too much, you couldn’t put it into words.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you spoke. A chill ran down in your spine as he stroke your hair softly while giving a soft rub on your hips using the other hand.

“Why are you making me like this, Taehyung! Tell me, you jerk!” you almost yelled before you pulled from him and punched his chest with your little might—trying to let go this slight anger in your chest. You pushed, punched and slapped his chest while sobbing like a crazy woman. He stared at you without saying anything before you finally stopped and became vulnerable again.

“Why did you make me fall this deep even I know, I can’t have you,” your voice crack.

He was cruel. He made you cry and now, he made you break Mingyu’s heart when that guy had nothing but love for you. But, after all these while, why did you still pick him instead of Mingyu? Why did your heart still want him, like this?

“I’m so sorry for hurting you like this,” he whispered—pulling your hands that covered your face before crashing his mouth again. He sucked on your lips like there was no tomorrow—probably get to taste the salty water from your eyes. The kiss lasted only for few seconds before he pulled away.

“I....I never knew that I wanted you this much until you left. Everything...everything felt so fucking empty when you aren’t here. Fuck, what did I do to us?” he took your face inside his hands. His deep eyes were trembling so much.

“You love her,”

“I was confused,”

“Don’t get it twisted, Taehyung,”

He shook his head.

“It made me angry to see you with him. I saw you that night...at the restaurant. I shouldn’t be mad but I did. I know he loved you and it drives me insane.The thoughts of you being with him, god, it’s crazy because I hate it,”

He wiped off the water from your eyes as he took every part of your face into his eyes. God, you’ve missed this. You thought you have lost it completely.

“What do you want, Taehyung?” a faint voice left your mouth.

“You. I want you. I know...what I did to you was too much. I know and I’m not asking you to forgive me now. But, let me fix this. Let me fix the broken parts of you,” his voice strained so much that you actually could feel his pain. Just as much as you do.

Tears prick again.

“I’d still want you even you ended up choosing her instead of me. That shit hurted but I’d still want you”

He shook his head, denying you immediately.

“Nothing happened between me and her ever since you left. The relationship wasn’t there because I couldn’t do it and she agreed for us to just stay as friends. Nothing more than that. She was my first love, yes but no matter how we tried, I realised that, my feelings for her were completely gone when you left. I thought it was her but no, baby. It was you,”

“Believe me, just this once,” he begged.

Swear to god, your heart bloomed like a spring. A small smile finally appeared on your lips as you stared at him. He talked sincerely with his eyes and you could see that. Twinkling and sparkling.

“I love you. I love you so much,”

He spoke and it felt genuine. You knew Taehyung wouldn’t be saying those words without actually meant it. You couldn’t remember when the last time he said that to you but listening to it again after a while, you were on a cloud nine.

You chest were full. The heaviness was gone in a blink of eyes. You nodded at him while biting down your lips before you wrapped your arms around his neck—burying your face on them.

“What took you so long to reply?” you whined softly.

He chuckled.

“I’m so stupid for taking this long,” his husky voice filled you.

“You are so stupid,” you sob—tighten your arms around him as if you didn’t want to let it go. Not anymore. Silence filled the space as both of you got immersed in such deep thoughts for a while.

“I love you too, Taehyung. I always do,” after a while, you finally got to let him know that. The sincere feeling that has been longing in you ever since you met him. It was still here to this day. Crazy.

“Can I date you?” he asked after few minutes of silence and without any doubt, you said nodded. He said the same thing to you before and it happened again. It felt like both of you just got back to the day 1.

Where both of you were young, reckless and in love. Perfectly right.

**

PS: I think I wanna open a fanfic request box. You guys can give me a request (genre: angst, smut, fluff) and I’ll make it happen (slowly, no tension). Also, ask me anything. I’m always opened for talk. And, thank you for enjoying this fanfic and its sequel. love u

[prairiedust]

The Further Folklore of Supernatural

Here’s a little more folklore meta in light of how season 15 has been playing out if anyone is game. I genuinely thought that Moriah would be the end of the folklore stuff and tossed out “Folk the Author” as an “epilogue,” so this is probably less of an addendum than it is a waymarker as I try to continue to parse these themes into the last seven episodes.

Welp. *waves hands at everything* THIS is not how anyone expected 2020 to go. Things got a little bit big and I stopped thinking about Spn in light of needing that energy elsewhere. But I also don’t want this crapfest to ruin how I fan my favorite show, so here I go again. I will attempt a TL;DR, too!

If you’ve read my old “folklore” analysis here about how I think fairy tales and all their baggage fit into Supernatural season 14, you know that I believe Castiel has stepped into a Sleeping Beauty type story, and that coincidentally a few themes and symbolism from Snow White kept popping up around Dean. (I hold Sam to be a Protagonist in the modern “literary fiction” sense of the word, but emotionally, thematically, and narratively he’s always been a little inaccessible to me. I finally understood him when the death-of-the-author plot surfaced, and I’ll get to Sam eventually here. And Jack, there’s a little Jack in here, too.) 

If you would rather have the TL;DR than read several thousands of words about how folklore and myth *might* be abstractly connected to an American genre show, all I can say is that I tried. The textual support is all in the folklore posts. This is as succinct a summary as I could fabricate. At least I’m not gonna talk about Sam and bricolage and freeplay! This is an almost completely theory-free post! If you don’t want to read or don’t need a refresher and just want to know how this has been working in 15, you can scroll down to “END OF TL;DR”.

So, to catch up, I’m not talking about the folklore and mythology that this show has always relied on for plot and MOTWs. I wasn’t drilling down into urban legends like Hook Man or world folk monsters like shtrigas or pishtacos. By “folklore” I mean the study of storytelling tropes and tale types that have been with us for ages. One of the many subtexts of the end of the series. I’ve been tracking this because I think it’s fun to see how fairy tale imagery and mythology might layer preconscious suggestions into the text of the show. I personally think it was loud enough to be seen easily, but more than likely viewers felt unsettled, felt cheered, or felt like they knew what was coming? I’m curious to know. Anyway.

When we found out that Kelly Kline was going to name her baby “Jack” waaaaay back in season 12, things started chiming. Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack the Giant Killer. Jack Tales. Jack is a powerful Western character, sort of a cross between a noble hero and a trickster, featuring in stories that often blur lines and boundaries. He is both the poor man’s youngest son and the equal to King Arthur’s heir. Jack is both everyman and extraordinary. Jack is so cool, I wish I had more time to parse that but his qualities are not subtle in the text/subtext, anyway.

But back to my half-crack reading of seasons 14 and 15. 

Once upon a time in Supernatural, there were two fairy tales being told. Both fairy tales are found all over the world and in many forms, but they all can be grouped together because they all contain shared elements of the same basic plot or shared themes, and these two in particular are sister stories. So when I mention “Sleeping Beauty,” I’m talking about lots of different versions of the folk tale, and the same for “Snow White,” which can be found in one form or another in storytelling traditions all over the place. It is both helpful and irritating that these are both Disney movies, too.

Jack makes an allusion to Sleeping Beauty in 14x03 The Scar while talking to Castiel-- it’s the kind of subtextual flash that in and of itself means little and proves nothing, but then beginning with The Scar we got three stories in a row that dealt with “sleepers” of some sort-- Lora in 14x03 doomed to die because of a witch’s spell, Stuart in 14x04 Mint Condition in a coma because of a ghost attack, and Sasha’s father in 14x05 Nightmare Logic under the spell of a clever djinn. It’s powerful subtext, like a soft light that bathes these episodes in the color of fairy tale and makes Jack’s Dramatic Swoon at the end of Optimism all the more Dramatic-- subtext amplifying the plot. Jack goes to Heaven, but is eventually cornered by the Shadow, who wants him in the Empty where he will sleep forever-- the Shadow being an entity who has claimed the husks of dead angels since their inception and thus implies a “curse” laid on Jack from the moment he came into being-- but Castiel, who is ever a thief in oh so many ways, makes a bargain with the Shadow and essentially takes over the consequences of Jack’s Sleeping Beauty story (hence my rarely used but hilarious tag “Castiel Thief of Endings.”)

Now that we know from 14x20 Moriah that the Shadow and Billie the Reaper are, if not allies, at least working together when Jack is awakened in the Empty, does that mean that Castiel’s deal is still on the table, or has that fate been thwarted? *pounds table* Was Jack’s death and Chuck’s rise as a “greater threat” in 14x20 enough to shift Castiel’s ending? It’s the kind of subtextual question that lends tension to the narrative and it’s what I am here for. 

Well, speaking of thwarted expectations, Dean’s arc was being shadowed by a Snow White tale type. We all know Snow White but why don’t I sum it up anyway, since Disney messed up the folktale ending lol. Snow White is cast out of her home by her jealous stepmother (and echoes of the stepmother’s magic mirror show up in 15x02 Gods and Monsters) who sends her huntsman to kill her; the dude can’t do it and turns the girl loose in the forest instead. Snow White joins a band of outsiders who live in the forest-- in the Disney movie and the Grimms’ tale they are dwarfs, in some versions she happens upon a band of robbers-- and they love her very much and we presume she’s safe for the rest of her life; Michael mysteriously turns Dean loose to join Sam’s gathering of hunters, however we know, like Stepmom, Michael is still out there. The stepmother finds out that Snow White is actually alive and contrives to kill her herself. Eventually succeeding, Snow White appears to die and is usually laid to rest in a crystal casket/glass coffin. Her stepmother’s machinations have _stolen her agency_ (further paralleling Dean’s possession by AU!Michael.) A Handsome Prince stumbles upon Snow White, is besmitten with her, and he asks her protectors if he can have her, as one does. Leaving the Disney adaptation aside, Snow White awakens when whatever item that has caused her death-like state is dislodged (piece of apple in her throat) or removed (magic corset) or withdrawn (poisoned hairpin) by her protectors. Snow White is a story about the community of the dwarves of band of robbers or adopted family caring deeply for her, and when Dean starts making his own crystal casket, the ma’lak box, in which he will ride out eternity in tormented symbiosis with Apocalypse Michael, he has to rely on his family to help him see the plan through. However, here’s where Jack-- who is as much a chaos engine as his surrogate father Castiel if not more so-- steps in and ruins the ending. Jack smites Michael. Dean Winchester is saved. Again. To put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, Jack later destroys the ma’lek box entirely. 

That was quite the surprise ending… for one of the stories.

Was the end of season 14 the end of the Sleeping Beauty theme, also?

END OF TL;DR

I quit writing about “folklore” for a while, but that doesn’t mean it stopped being a theme. It just stopped being fun to write about as the story got more and more dark, and when it transmuted into two parallel themes of “folklore” or storytelling by the people versus Death of the Author--or storytelling by a lauded authority-- and there was so much angst about the boundaries of Chuck’s powers, I just wanted to sit back and enjoy that. I did distill my thoughts about Sam’s new arc in the DotA plot, which I thought would subsume the folktale themes but hey, we still have folktales around, too. I mean, we have Sam and we have Dean, and we have two “literary” subtexts, or maybe rather two subjects about the nature of story, something that I thought was a little bit of a surprise.

Storytelling was a Feature of 15x07 Last Call, both in the sense that Lee and Dean swap new stories and tell old tales of their adventures together as they catch up, but also in the sense that we got additional “text”-- hints of a backstory where John and Dean hunted with Lee in that swampy long-ago “Stanford era,” and again we get storytelling when _Lee recounts how he ended up keeping a marid in his basement_. There is also an allusion to the Thousand and One Arabian Nights in that episode that I yelled about in a meta that I never put on the interwebs, but the “marid” is in a specific tale in many editions of that collection, and thus calls in not only a different folktale tradition but the concept of a framed/nested narrative, which I believe will be important to understanding the last episodes of the series, but that’s an aside. In 15x08 Our Father Who Aren’t In Heaven, Castiel _tells Michael the story_ of how everyone ended up where they are now to convince him to help. And Michael and Adam’s allyship, if not friendship, was probably the best subversion of any “storytelling” expectation we’ve ever had on this show. Belphagor set us up for “room full of crazy” or something, but, no. We got symbiosis. 

That almost sums up how I’ve been viewing the last “era” of spn. This wasn’t in the master post, but I shouted a lot about underworlds before 15x09 Purgatory 2: Return to Purgatory, and then stopped shouting because I had to ferment for a while. Also, as has been mentioned, the world turned to crap. But talking to other meta writers during the ramp up to the resumption of the season helped me realize just why this reading of myth to folktales to literature feels so right.

Underworlds and Otherworlds…. Everybody has crossed into an “underworld” or three in Supernatural, it’s really nbd. It was actually surface-level plot in season 13. By the time 15x09 rolled around, our heroes are just, like, strolling in and out of “sealed off” Hell after doing a level one spell and chilling with Billie in the Empty and even that Purgatory trip didn’t have the same feeling of danger that, say, crossing into the AU did. But also, we’re at the point where subtext is leading us to a _satisfactory_ ending. Where before we had serial text, like a cumulative tale type-- “The House that Jack Built”-- which just kept adding more and more plot, we’re hurtling o’er the apex of Freytag’s pyramid now and things are getting loud.

But they’re also getting very shifty.

I wrote a little bit about Sam Winchester successfully reviving Eileen in 15x06 Golden Time and the “Orpheus and Eurydice” symbolism of him keeping his back to her. (I’m not linking it because it’s so, so rough.) But because Sam is not an underworld hero, not completely-- I see him as a modern Protagonist coming to terms in a psychoanalytical model with things like mortality, fallibility, and mastery-- maybe bildungsroman, even -- he was able to subvert the tragic ending of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice because it is not “his” story. But if I were pressed to find a mythic or folk tale type to measure Sam against, I could. I would probably sideye “the sorcerer’s apprentice” trope (ATU 325-The Magician and his Pupil :D ) which began as a poem that entered European folklore on different fronts. (and weirdly, that story was also Disnified in Fantasia. That’s probably more my own limitation as a gen x american lol than anything coming from the writer’s room.)

Dean got his moment in Purgatory where he was able to finally come to grips with his anger and heal the rift between himself and Castiel because Purgatory is a different kind of underworld. Dean is a successful threshold-crosser, having crossed that boundary out of Purgatory before, but in 15x09, his prayer to Castiel is all a subtextual evocation of doing the emotional and mental work of therapy, which Sam, as a modern protagonist, is usually caught up in. The mythic hero also deals with mortality, failibilty, and mastery, but in different terms. I hope I’m doing an okay job peeling apart these nuances that I’m seeing.

Since Castiel accompanied Dean to Purgatory, and in the past made his own wildly successful incursion into and out of Hell with Dean’s soul, and was the one in The Trap who actually retrieved the Leviathan blossom, Castiel counts as an underworld hero, too, but you can pull the lever and send the tumblers spinning again and make him a fairy tale character in that he has made this Bargain with the Empty which is both in the “modern” tradition of subverting a fairy tale, and the tale type “deal with the devil.” Or he could be seen as a modern protagonist in that he’s lowkey grappling with questions of selfhood and identification. “I am an angel of the lord.” “I am no one.” “It’s Steve, now.” “You are nothing.” “I am an angel.”

We even got an episode that playfully explored the concept of “hero” by subverting our expectations (Sam and Dean were rescued by, of all people, an upgraded Garth.) It was called The Hero’s Journey, after the Joseph Campbell book about mythic heroes.... !!! Like, what??? !!!! I didn’t even have anything to say about that episode, it just rocked. The “meta” was just all out there in plot, like the olives and boiled eggs in a 1950’s gelatin recipe. 

Some of this slipperiness in the subtext points right at the study of folklore and the (admittedly Eurocentric at first) efforts to transform a “soft science” into something approaching scientific rigor. The Aarne-Thompson-Uther folktale index is today a codifying or cataloguing tool, with which anthropologists and literature scholars can line up stories based on the motifs found within them-- it is useful for cataloguing tales, making comparative studies, and for trying to trace these stories back through human history to find the One First Story of that type, for instance the ur-story that led to Snow White. When did people first start telling that tale, where, how did it spread, and why are we still telling it today? The danger in using the ATU index is that by stripping a story down to it’s bones, we lose the story, if that makes sense. The beauty of using the ATU index is that you find many, many more interconnected stories. It’s sort of a paradox. Some scholars criticize the ATU, claiming that one could take a random selection of these motifs and shuffle them to create a story and, you sort of could? That’s the beauty of the system. 

So that brings us to Jack. I feel like Jack, as in Jack of all Trades, is anything that the narrative needs him to be. As far as I can find, “Jack” is not a “tale type.” He shows up alongside any number of them-- sometimes as a trickster, sometimes as a hero, almost always as a kind of slippery character. In the first folklore post, I invested many words in exploring Dabb’s obsession with threes-- AU Michael asks three beings what they desire, asks his human victim to guess his name three times, then we follow three sleeper stories, and so on. The original TFW was three people. But Jack makes four. 

What is Jack’s story going to be?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And speaking for a sec about the origins of myth and folklore-- what about ALL OF THE OTHER PEOPLE in the world? Are they lowkey churning the matrix of reality on their own and generating their own content, like Becky and her AO3 stories and mackettes? 

*¯\_(ツ)_/¯ intensifies*

It all just feels so good at this point, even the peril that I feel surrounding Castiel.

I *think* this will be the last of the longform metas before the end of the series. I mean, I can only hope so. I’ll drop some stuff about individual episodes that might be applicable as I rewatch, and I might clean up my post about Last Call and drop it on here, but I just wanted to kind of hold this up as a mile marker before the Final Seven air.

[kisskissbanggang]

The Sabotage of Simkung House - Part 3

[Stray Kids Multi Fic - 20Min Read/5.8K Words - Hyunjin x Female Reader - Non-Idol!au, Variety!au - NSFW/Smut, Plot - Reverse Harems, Variety Shows, Unfolding Plot, Panty Stealing, Noona Kink, Femdom, Brat Taming, Dom/Sub Elements, Secret Hook-Ups]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist | Feedback

Hyunjin was a troublemaker. You hadn’t noticed it before, but it was abundantly clear now that you were finally taking a morning to make up the beds. The boys were expectedly possessive of their rooms as they were their only “private” spaces on set, but with each passing day you could tell at least two of the three bedrooms were growing musky, the worst of which belonged to the two youngest cast members. They clearly weren’t cleaning, and they clearly weren't giving you all their laundry. In fact, only a couple of the cast were giving you everything. Minho and Changbin were currently taking turns setting their laundry downstairs for you from their shared room, and those were the only pairs of socks and underwear you’d seen since filming began. Clearly, the other boys were doing half their own laundry. Whether from pride or privacy, you have no clue, but, nonetheless, this allowed an opportunity for Hyunjin to account for one pair of your missing panties, laid out perfectly flat under his pillow. 

It was suspicious. The panties were still clean, still smelling of laundry soap with no hints of debauchery other than the fact that they currently weren’t in your own room. In fact, you’d found them solely because a hint of lace had peeked out from under Hyunjin’s pillow. You were meant to see this. So what were you to do? You set about cleaning the rest of the room, the lion’s share of the mess belonging to Jisung, and set about formulating your game plan.

You tugged and patted the sheets on Jisung's bed flat, instantly satisfied as the room looked better overall, even with just the beds made, when you nearly tripped on a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Another peek of lace was barely noticeable in the tangle of clothes. You gently pried the rest of the pile up, not wanting to disturb where the panties had been left, just like you left the pair Hyunjin stole supposedly untouched under his pillow. These, however, were decidedly used. You weren’t disgusted -- it wasn’t like the entire pair was a solidified mess -- but the delicate fabric was clearly crumpled and hidden after Jisung had finished being “inspired” by them. Unlike Hyunjin, he absolutely did not want you to find these. 

So the wheels in your head turned a little differently now, perhaps a little more efficiently. Both boys had stolen your panties, but were they working together? You doubted it, considering the two seemed to only tolerate each other's presence on set. The duo constantly bickered, hardly ever studying together or working together for challenges. They only ended up as roommates because Chan got his own room and Minho and Changbin “chose” to room together because they were the next oldest. Otherwise, Jisung detested Hyunjin’s prim and snobbish persona, while Hyunjin constantly picked over Jisung’s perfectionist streak and clumsy tendencies. Nevertheless, yet more reconnaissance needed to be done. 

You headed downstairs, looking busy with your duster and sprucing up as you surreptitiously looked for the boys. They were once again mysteriously missing, before you caught noise down the hall in the study. You neared the door, surprised as it opened almost right into your face. Chan and the other boys stared at you from behind him. 

“Secret meeting?” You chuckled lightly. 

“Studying,” Chan clarified, shrugging past you and into the hall. The boys followed suit, and as Hyunjin passed you, you noticed just how tall he was, but maybe that was because of how he looked right down at you. You looked up through your eyelashes at him in time to catch his smirk. That energy felt dangerous -- if everything was going to go your way, you had to be in control. That's why Chan wasn't even on your radar aside from avoiding him, and that was definitely why you needed to take your time and be careful around Hyunjin for now. You turned to leave, pausing as you noticed Jisung still inside, still sitting in the large easy chair by the tall shelves lining the walls.

Really, you hadn't been able to get much of a read on Jisung. He'd been quiet the first couple days of filming, but once he warmed up to the cast he wouldn't shut up. That is, except for you and the other staff cast and even a good chunk of the crew. Jisung barely looked up from the book he was holding as he continued to scribble notes in his lap, eyeing you carefully as you casually entered the room and went about dusting and sprucing up. You tried to think of something, anything to break the ice, when you finally noticed what he was reading. The wheels cranked in your head. 

“Is that… Is that 3.5 edition?” You asked curiously, tilting your head to see the cover better. Jisung jolted, surprised at your attention and drawing his knees up just the smallest bit, as if he was covering up from your prying eyes. You chuckled apologetically. “Sorry, I couldn't help but notice. Why not 5th edition? Don't you like the balancing?”

“You play, noona?” He asked warily. He adjusted his glasses on his nose before pulling them off altogether and habitually nibbling on the end of the plastic arm. You shrugged, as if establishing any sort of familiarity with him wasn't imperative to make your plan happen. 

“Sure. It's been a long time, but I play.”

You didn't. You'd had a short-lived stint with a DM just after college, back when you used to hustle for spare cash, who allowed you to sit in on his planning and play sessions, but you'd learned he was frankly terrible at it when you consulted his manuals yourself. Your friend Duckie had teased you relentlessly for days for letting a neckbeard relegate you to arm candy, and you frankly never lived it down between the two of you. 

Jisung sighed and set the manual closed on his lap. It looked like you'd been granted an answer. “Somehow, I mentioned tabletop gaming once and the guys all pushed it because none of them have tried it, and I said no, so the producers told me this morning that we're doing it, so we're doing it. Setting up a one-shot on short notice is a nightmare, so I grabbed my manual. I only brought it because I'm developing my campaign to pick back up when filming is over.”

You smiled sympathetically as you continued dusting. “Are they doing their own character sheets?”

“Oh, god, no,”Jisung laughed, shaking his head. He really was cute. You just wished you didn't also know his room was a damn mess and that he was a panty thief. “I'm doing it for them and I'm trying to make this whole thing easy.”

“That's really cool,” you said sincerely as you continued cleaning, silently applauding the bashful blush in his cheeks, “it sounds like you really know what you're doing.”

“Thanks, noona,” he replied meekly. Jisung watched as you accidentally flung a cloud of dust off a high shelf and you looked up, sputtering and coughing as you caught a glimpse of the offender: a large vase, its gleam dulled by dust. You hopped at it, trying to reach the vase with your duster. 

“Jisung,” you called over your shoulder, “can you please help me reach this?” Jisung nodded, setting his book and notes down as he got up. He strode over, sizing you up against the bookshelves before he simply grabbed your duster from your hands and did it himself. You leaned against the bookshelf, between the hardwood and him, watching him and deciding now was as good a time as any to plant a seed. 

“Jisung,” you began, catching his eyes comically widening as he noticed how close you were, “be careful when you take care of your own laundry, alright? I noticed I was missing some things so I'd hate to think you boys are getting all your laundry mixed up.”

His hand wavered where he was intently dusting, almost damn near knocking over the vase. You scanned the room: there were three more vases just like this. “You're missing some things, noona?”

You nodded. “Weird, right? I'd die if something of mine ended up in one of your baskets by accident,” you laughed, startled as Jisung quickly finished and handed you back your duster. 

“Really weird, noona, I hope you find your stuff,” he babbled as he scrambled back to the other side of the room and grabbed his things from his chair, “wouldn’t it be easier for you to reach if you had a stepstool? I swear I saw one in the hall closet. I’ll just go get it for you--”

And he was out the door, walking more like a sprint down the hallway. You stared, your developing plans dashed. Jisung didn't return. It wasn't like you waited a crazy amount of time, but more than enough that you knew you'd scared him off instead of inviting him. Nevertheless, a plan was still forming -- Jisung was more nervous than he let on, but that didn't mean he couldn't be encouraged.

You worked your way through the house, cleaning and taking care of chores when you noticed some dishes outside on the patio table. Sliding open the glass door, you set about picking up dishes when you heard a quiet snicker behind you. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that a surprised gasp escaped you before you could even whip around and promptly land on your ass, unaware that you hadn't been alone. Even though you hadn't seen anyone out here at first, the large house opened up to its patio from the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen, but each door and window seemed to have their own blind spots, apparently. You looked up to see Hyunjin smirking to himself as he read a book, reclined on a lounge chair in the warm afternoon sun. He looked up, an amused grin spread on his face as he set his book down and trotted over to offer you a hand up. 

“I'm sorry, noona, did I surprise you?”

You sighed with a laugh as you dusted yourself off. “A little, Hyunjin, but I'm alright.”

“I'm glad. Actually, noona, while I have you here, can I ask you a question?” It wasn't surprising that Hyunjin was so cordial and charming -- dashing, even -- but you didn't trust it at this moment. Something in his smile was mischievous. Nonetheless, you nodded. “What did you study in school?”

“Who says I went to school?” You smirked. 

“Chan-hyung,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “He mentioned you seemed much smarter than you let on. I figured you’ve just been modest.”

Holy shit, you pondered, hoping Hyunjin wasn’t noticing your hard blink, what kind of conspiracy has he been building? By now it felt apparent that Chan wasn’t just concerned with you trying to sleep with him or any of the cast for that matter. This wasn’t just playing aloof or hard to get, he actively appeared to despise you. 

“I’m just wondering because I was curious how your family feels about your acting.” Hyunjin continued, pulling you out of your plotting. 

“Well then, yes,” you sighed, “I went to school. And not for acting. And my family doesn’t know. I mean, they know I'm interested and enjoy it, but they don’t know everything.” That was true. Your family knew you’d taken bit parts in dramas and commercials, but they had no idea about the show and certainly no idea about your more known acting credits. Why should they fall victim to that inevitable disappointment?

“Ah,” Hyunjin shook his head with a reluctant laugh, “then maybe there’s no hope for me.”

“So your parents don’t know?”

“Of course not!” He chuckled. “My father is a lawyer and my mother is an architect. Guess how I disappointed both of them?” He waited for your patient shrug. “Studying statistical psychology. I loved it, and they hated that I loved it. So I joined the theatre club at school on a whim to start taking my mind off switching majors, try something new, and now I love this. So they definitely can’t know about that either, or they’ll take it away, too.”

“I’m sorry you have to hide this special thing from your parents,” you sympathized as you resumed stacking dishes on the patio table. In your own way, you truly did understand where Hyunjin was coming from -- it was exciting to be proud of your path, but it always hurt to hide it from people you loved. 

“It’s alright,” Hyunjin sighed with a small smile. “If I can be candid, noona, that’s what sort of drew me to you. I was thinking of school and home, and you reminded me of someone, a mentor I had back in the theatre club.”

“Oh yeah?” You humored him, eyeing his feet when he stepped closer. You took a cautious step back.

“Definitely,” he nodded, stepping forward again. “She had this quiet air that she knew plenty more than she let on.”

“Must’ve been a great teacher,” you placated, taking another step back with your stack of dishes. Hyunjin pressed forward once again, his toes only inches from yours. 

“She was,” he smirked, “She taught me everything I know.”

You took a firm step back towards the door and Hyunjin stopped in his tracks the moment your fingers touched the handle. “I’m sorry I interrupted you,” you smiled demurely, “I should get back to work.”

“Noona,” he called after you, his playful tone making you stop in the middle of you turning into the opened door, “I meant to tell you something. Be mindful of the laundry, please; I noticed some things in my basket that don't belong to me.”

You stepped through the door and briskly rushed into the kitchen to tend to the dishes, thrusting your hands under the hot water as you vigorously scrubbed. That tricky little pervert. 

The fact that Hyunjin could knock you off center like that was troubling. You would never feel confident about your progress if you let him take control like that again.

You began your next morning with a fire in you, ready to make the progress you were too off-kilter to make the previous day. This meant, of course, fetching something from Hyunjin’s room. 

The hall to the boys’ rooms was silent as you neared Hyunjin’s door, the cast all outside working out and doing yoga, so you simply turned the knob and walked inside. 

Your sharp gasp matched Jisung’s as he promptly fell off the bed, cocooned in his blanket. 

“Jisung, I'm so sorry!” You blurted from under your hands covering your eyes, “I thought you were outside with the others!” 

“Noona!” Jisung groaned as he unfolded himself from the floor. A cursory glance through your fingers let you notice the pile of clothes at the foot of his bed had been dismantled. “I was still sleeping! I thought the others were still getting ready.” Sure enough, Jisung freed himself from his blanket but deftly snuck his hand underneath to adjust himself as you finally released your eyes. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I've been making the beds and grabbing your laundry in the morning now,” you sighed, “some of you boys are pretty messy.”

Jisung looked at his half of the room, littered in socks and books and notes, and his cheeks reddened even more. He watched as you helped yourself to fixing Hyunjin’s bed, surreptitiously snatching your panties from under his pillow and shoving them in your apron as you patted the sheets flat. You whirled around, trying to match Jisung’s level of flustered as you apologized. 

“I'm sorry for waking you up,” you said sheepishly, “I'll let the others know you’re coming.”

You rushed out of the room just as he did from the study the day before and set about the rest of your day once you were out of sight before Seungmin caught up with you. “Not working out today, noona?”

“Afraid not, Min,” you smiled warmly, “lots to do.”

“Are you making the beds now, too? Hyunjin mentioned it this morning.”

You nodded as you continued down the hall. “Why not? Their rooms could use some tidying. It’s small but it’s helpful.”

“That’s very considerate of you noona, let me know if you need anything.” Seungmin smiled and waved goodbye as he headed back up one more level to the attic. 

Your plan was exceedingly simple: you would ignore Hyunjin for a whole day -- and more, if he could manage -- before making any forward moves, except for one. He'd been so readily forward with you that it seemed reasonable to predict that this was Hyunjin’s usual tactic, to be handsome and dashing and silver-tongued enough to easily land any of his conquests. Really, that was probably why he turned to AV’s in the first place. With how he looked at you, he thought you were putty in his hands and, frankly, the assumption drove you crazy. 

What you didn't expect, however, was for your simple plan to be instantly effective. After scampering away to tell the boys Jisung was on his way downstairs, it was easy to pay more attention to Changbin and Minho -- who easily smiled and joked and socialized with you whenever you were around now -- even with Chan eyeing you suspiciously in the corner. You barely regarded Hyunjin’s attempt to give you a knowing look. It wasn’t like you could flat-out ignore him right off the bat. He had to notice. You were careful to not look sheepish or bashful when you did make eye contact, wanting to be sure to make him feel more conflicted about his previous perception of you. 

That afternoon, while you waited off to the side during filming, you brushed right past Hyunjin’s sly smile and sauntered up to Changbin again, playfully patting down a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. Hyunjin’s attention was piqued as you doled out all this personal attention to almost anyone except him over the course of the day, and you applauded yourself as you saw him try more and more to get in your eyeline. Later, during a break, he caught you hanging out with Minho in the kitchen, fiddling with his earrings. 

“I didn’t know your ears were pierced,” you cutely prodded, dutifully ignoring Hyunjin as he hung out near the fridge and close to your conversation. Minho jumped and grabbed at them. 

“I forgot I had them on!” He jovially whined. “Oh my god I've had them on all day, I'm surprised I didn't get reamed for this.”

“I do, too. Almost all of us have our ears pierced,” Hyunjin interjected, “Chan-hyung isn’t even--”

“You hide your earrings?” You asked Minho curiously. Hyunjin silently steamed on the other side of the kitchen. 

“Of course,” Minho nodded, “they signed us to look studious. None of us are supposed to look super cool or anything.”

“That’s too bad,” you pouted, “they look good on you.” You checked the time on your phone and stretched out a little. “Shouldn’t we be getting back?” The boys both nodded, but you still only looked at Minho and followed him out, passing by Hyunjin looking almost offended at how you could dare ignore him. You brushed past, surreptitiously slipping the reclaimed pair of panties out of your apron and into Hyunjin’s blazer pocket on your way out the door and down the hall. 

Finally, at the end of formal filming for the day, you headed upstairs to return your pages once the crew cleared out. You made sure your mic was unclipped and back in its cradle, and checked the big calendar hung on the wall for any big developments in the daytime show for the week when a creak on the stairs startled you. Looking up, you were faced with Chan staring at you from the door. 

“Looking for something?” You asked casually.

“No, just you,” he said as he stepped into the room. “What’s your angle here?”

“Angle?”

“Don’t be dumb,” Chan shook his head, “what are you trying to do here? I've been watching you all day, all week -- you’re doing something more than just the show.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you carefully fired back, “so I’d appreciate it if you’d care to explain where you got these big presumptions from.”

“Come on! All this extra screentime?” Chan reeled as he quietly shut the attic door behind him. “Look, I don’t know how many of the guys recognize you, but I do, alright? I didn’t think you were taking a break to try and make it big, and if I had thought you were then I definitely wouldn't have expected to see you here. What are you doing? Are you trying to get attention from other producers watching the show?”

You stared back, arms folded indignantly. “What, am I not good enough?”

“No, it’s not that,” he babbled, “I just know--”

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit what you know,” you snapped, “and I definitely don't appreciate you trying to accuse me of trying to get anything more than what I signed for. Sorry if it seems like I'm fighting for more screentime.” You turned your nose up, bumping past Chan on your way back downstairs. Honestly, getting him was going to be the most grueling part of this whole concept. You quickly texted Felix when you escaped to your room.

> How many of the guys know who I am?

>> None, but who doesn’t lie about watching porn?

>Can I get a meeting? I'm feeling pretty antsy. 

>>Sorry Shining Star, emergencies only. Gotta preserve the atmosphere. But I'll let the Big Boss know how you’re feeling. You got this. 

You sighed, feeling a bit ruffled with how weird this was getting. Would tonight be a good night for a break? You figured if there would be any, then it would be tonight, just trying to get your head back in order and ready to tackle everything the next day. Some dinner and then bed and you would be good to go. 

Passing through the main floor to the kitchen, you heard a commotion coming from the study. Thinking back, this was probably the night of Jisung’s campaign. In a small way, you were excited for him, hoping all the guys were being open and receptive and having fun. A hand shot out from around the corner, startling you and pulling you into the alcove of the dining room door.   Hyunjin’s lips were on yours the moment he pulled you against him where he was pressed against the wall, his tongue hot in your mouth and his exhales almost resembling low groans as he kissed you. Your fists beat against his chest to push him back. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You demanded, your hushed tone still sharp against his mischievous grin. 

“You know, beautiful, I loved my surprise but it's not a present if I stole them in the first place. Maybe I can get a replacement?”

“You mean ‘noona,’” you growled, “and is that supposed to work on me?” The quixotic sparkle in Hyunjin’s eye disappeared. 

“You're a bit of a bitch, noona, you know that?”

His glare shattered as you laughed meanly at him. “And you're a bit of a brat. Boys like you only call women bitches when they can't get what they want.”

“Well, as a big fan, maybe I just wanted what I've been fantasizing about.” Hyunjin stared hard at you, challenging you with his admission, the hungry edge to his look remaining even as he was surprised to see you relax in his grip. His eyes widened for just a moment as you gently cupped his face, but both your expressions changed when you pinched his pierced earlobe and tugged him close. You smiled at his shock as you punted open the swinging dining room door and dragged Hyunjin inside like a guilty schoolboy. Approaching the handsome dining table, you yanked him down to bend over it as you searched his blazer pockets, savoring his struggling grunts. 

“So you recognized me on the first day?” You interrogated. 

“Yes,” Hyunjin laughed against the table, “I couldn't believe I was so lucky.”

“Then what exactly have you been fantasizing about?”

“I just want to see for myself,” he smirked, “see if you're as sexy in real life. I want to see if you really cum like that. Didn't expect you to be so rough.”

“I'm only rough with brats who think they can just take me,” you reviled as you found what you were looking for. You reached a foot over to slide out a chair before twisting him around to push him onto it. Hyunjin looked up at you expectantly as you stood, the panties you grabbed balled in one fist on your hip, your other hand reaching to play with his earrings again. “You didn't tell me you had pierced ears,” you provokingly laughed as he agitatedly tried to smack your hand away. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“God, you really are such a bitch,” Hyunjin grimaced. 

“Not much of a prince off-camera, are you?” You sneered, tugging on his ear again and taking notice that even while Hyunjin tried to stop that, he hadn't made any other attempts to make you leave him alone or stop you. He still looked up at you, anticipating your next move. 

“Come on, baby,” he laughed breathlessly, “you don’t -- hey!”

Hyunjin gasped as you tugged on the collar of his shirt, slung the panties in your hand over his head, and down around his neck. Twisting the fabric in your fist as you pulled him close, you had a chance to tangle your fingers into his hair, firmly yanking him back against your hold. He watched, eyes glued to you as you manhandled him to sit up straight in the chair. 

“Manners, brat,” you smirked, “you're supposed to respect your elders.”

“Noona, I --” Hyunjin yelped as you stepped between his feet, one of your knees raised to rest on his cock, hard in his slacks. 

“So close, but you're still so dumb. Apologize first.”

“I’m sorry, noona,” he gulped, his quiet plea dry and cautious. “I want you so much.”

“Is that why you ambushed me like a little pervert?” You scolded him, only pulling back on the attitude once you saw a shine of intimidation in his eyes. “Hyunjin,” you soothed, letting go of your improvised hold around his neck to cup his face, “I can stop.”

And Hyunjin smirked as he shook his head, the saccharine smile coming right back. Atta boy. “No, noona, I ‘ambushed’ you because I knew I could.”

“Disgusting,” you grinned, “I bet you wouldn’t even know what to do with me if you had me.”

Hyunjin got up now, pushing you back and standing over you as he herded you onto the dinner table. 

“You think so?” He challenged arrogantly as his eager hands shoved your skirt up around your hips. 

“I know so, brat,” you laughed as you smacked his hands off of you. He gasped out a moan as you groped his erection through his slacks. “I bet you don't even know how to use this. Any trust fund baby you’ve fucked has probably worshipped it without knowing any better.”

“Then let me show you,” he insisted through gritted teeth, quickly unzipping and exposing his long cock in his grip. You hazarded a glance -- an open mistake, judging by Hyunjin’s valiantly cocky grin. “Don’t you like it? Don’t you want it, noona?”

“God, you’re so insufferable,” you rolled your eyes as you watched him brazenly stroke his length, “you’ve never had someone refuse you, have you?”

“Never,” he smiled, “and I'm not about to start.” Hyunjin made a boldly stupid move as he got his hands under your thighs to pull you against him where you sat back on the table, only apparent to him once you shoved a foot in his way to hold him off of you. 

“You think you deserve it?” You raised a dubious eyebrow at him, catching his eyes glued to your breasts as you slowly unbuttoned your blouse and revealed the lace bra underneath. He gulped, barely nodding as you raised the hem of your skirt just a little more, showing off the matching panties barely covering your damp pussy. “Say it, stupid, if you’re so sure of yourself.”

“I deserve it, noona,” Hyunjin breathed, pushing against your foot digging into his hip. He watched as you slowly let him fall against you, a deep groan erupting from his throat as the head of his cock prodded against your entrance. 

“Prove it,” you demanded, and let Hyunjin sink into you as you gripped onto the panties around his neck once again. Hyunjin exhaled hard at the sensation of your depths squeezing his length, and you held back from reacting for him with every fiber of your being. 

In truth, Hyunjin's cock felt amazing, and his moans sounded so sweet in your ear as he fucked you on the dinner table. That was the real difference you were noticing -- Hyunjin had almost no inhibitions about his own moans, they were nearly unabashed as he thrust into you, and you could feel every nuance in tandem with his wandering hands on your breasts or in your hair or gripping onto your ass. Honestly, if he wanted to pursue this, he could probably make a decent living with AV’s. You admired the way he could enter this headspace on camera, could be this vulnerable even when you weren’t truly alone. 

“How is it?” You purred, forcing yourself out of your reverie. 

“It's perfect,” Hyunjin spat, his hips still thrusting hard enough against you to make the dining table rock and creak. “Isn't it?”

“Well, I'm not too sure,” you teasingly sighed. 

“What?! Why the fuck not?” 

“All this work and no extra effort to make me cum,” you shrugged with a smile, “you are convincing me to look into selling sex toys, though.”

“You're a rotten bitch,” Hyunjin growled under his breath. 

“And you're a spoiled brat,” you smirked as you leaned up to kiss his lips, noting when he did nothing but kiss back and take your continuous bait. “You said you deserve it but you haven't proven it yet.”

Hyunjin scoffed and dragged his lips to your neck, to the crook of your shoulder exposed by your open blouse, his teeth finding purchase and clamping down. His cock surged within you as you finally let out a tepid moan. He stood up straight, looking renewed at the small reward you supplied. The wheels in his head visibly turned as he started looking for more ways to make you moan and gasp for him, finally leaning you back on the table to stroke your clit with the pad of his thumb with one of your ankles slung over his shoulder. His moans grew more ragged as yours grew more intense, and your fingers gripped on the panties wrapped around Hyunjin’s neck like a leash. “Say it,” he pleaded. 

“Say what, brat?” You mewled. 

“Tell me I deserve it. Tell me I'm going to make you cum.”

“Hyunjin,” you nodded desperately, catching his attention and making him buck harder into you, “you’re going to make me cum.” 

“And I deserve it?”

“Yes,” you gasped, “you deserve it.”

And just at the utterance of those words, Hyunjin gripped your hips hard as he came, beating you by just a second as you cried out and clutched onto his hands. 

Hyunjin collapsed onto you, breathing hard, his hair smelling of conditioner and sweat as he recovered, and you absently caught yourself rubbing his back before you snatched your hand back. You eased him out of you and pushed him back onto the chair you’d pulled out and he slouched, boneless and dazed. He barely noticed as you sat up and tugged off your scant panties. 

“What a lucky fan,” you simpered as you got up, setting these around his neck before plucking off the stolen pair. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his temple as you slipped on the clean panties under your skirt and smoothed it out. “Did your mentor teach you that?”

Hyunjin shook his head with a breathless smile. “No, but I'm a quick learner.” He squeezed your hand that had somehow landed on his shoulder as he glanced down at the garment strung around his neck. “What’re these for?”

“You deserve them,” you laughed, “now don’t make things weird around set.”

“Or what? We’ll have to do this again?” Hyunjin playfully challenged as you pushed open the swinging door. “Who knows, maybe I'll quit acting and start doing what you do. Maybe teach you a thing or two.”

You left, but something about Hyunjin’s comment ate at you as you descended the stairs. That is, until you noticed Chan poking his head into the laundry room. You quietly approached before giving a polite cough behind him, making him jump. 

“Noona!” Chan exclaimed, a small bundle of laundry in his arms. “I was, er, looking for you. I was wondering if you’d seen Hyunjin. He left to get something to eat after he got killed off in Jisung’s campaign.”

“Hyunjin was feeling a bit worn out,” you improvised. “He’s upstairs sleeping. Didn’t you check up there?”

Chan shifted uncomfortably, “Of course. The lights were off, though, so I must not have seen him.”

“Right,” you nodded dubiously, eyeing the small bundle of laundry in Chan’s hands, “is that for me?”

“What, this? Uh, of course, that’s why I was looking for you.”

You bluntly grabbed the clothes out of Chan’s hands and stepped around him into the laundry room. “Thank you for bringing your clothes down. Goodnight, Chan,” you nodded tersely. 

“Goodnight, noona.” 

You sighed as you listened for Chan’s footsteps to ascend the stairs before you relaxed onto a footstool in the corner of the small room. Something felt weird. Minho’s comment. Changbin’s comment. Now Hyunjin's comment. Tiny little weird comments were building up and squeezing your stomach into knots. You couldn't talk to the producer, you couldn't talk to Felix, so who could knock some sense into you? Finally, you pulled your phone out of your apron and opened your DM’s, scrolling down to Duckie’s name. His profile picture was new: another in a long line of faceless shots, only now with his defined chest peeking out from an open hoodie and your necklace in plain view. Your stomach squeezed again. It'd been weeks since you talked by now. 

>Hey, you free right now?

>>Hey! I was wondering where you are. I'm free I'm just relaxing after work.

>You ever get a really weird feeling on a set?

>>Weird like what?

[To be continued.]

[silvysartfulness]

Hi! sorry they're from the bottom up. 55 48 42 38 37 21 17 2

Okaaay, so this has taken me a bit to get around to, sorry!

55 How do you manage your time/make time for writing? (do you set aside time to write every day or do you only write when you have a lot of free time?)

I'm currently on sick leave, so I do have a lot of free time, in the sense that I'm not working. It's more a matter of trying to work up the energy and focus to be able to write. I try to sit down with my story document every day (night, let’s be honest), doing some editing and trying to get into the groove to write more. Some days I manage, some days I don't. Sadly I have very little control over when my brain decides to work, and when it doesn't.

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back?

I can't really do drafts – the only drafty thing I do is make a simple keyword outline for what should go in a particular chapter, and then I go straight to writing. I write everything as completely as I'm able, in chronological order, to create something very complete on the first run.

I just can't go back and add/remove/move any big things around later, it completely messes up the rhythm and feel I've crafted! It can even be a problem, sometimes, when I realized I forgot to put something in there - and some 75% of the time I'll opt to leave it out for later rather than trying to shoehorn it into an already completed text. XD

(This is why I do fanfiction, not attempting actual literature. Then people would tell me what to do, and I would get upset and run feral into the woods and never return.)

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied?

Same as above – first ”draft” = completed text, pretty much. I'll edit certain words and move words around a bit, but on the whole, I just sit down and write the text that will be the finished story.

38. How do you nail voice in your books?

Oooh, that's an interesting one! And possibly one with a rather long and complicated answer...

I'm neurodivergent and grew up with one pseudo-abusive aggressive parent, and one reason I've been able to pass as ”normal” so well for my entire life that I was only just diagnosed this year, is that I'm extremely good at studying and analyzing people. Their body language, tone, expressions, word choices etc... I hadn't realized not everyone did this! Most people apparently just spontaneously... do/say things? Without analyzing them beforehand, and consciously shaping the impression they want to make and what reactions to instill? Wild!

Anyway, I take that habit of analysis into my study of fictional characters as well, and when I have a special interest, I get super immersive. I literally go into the character's head, feel their body language settle around me, lean my own conscious self back and hand the reins over to the persona my analysis has constructed to see what they'll do.

It includes things like voice (word choices, tone), body language/expression, way of thinking, way of relating to others, reactions in any given situation...

For my own stories, I often have multiple viewpoint characters to get immersed in. For existing (fandom) characters, it's harder – I really have to vibe with a character on some level to be able to do the full immersion.

So for Roadtrip, I spend about 70% of the time constructing the story from Xue Yang's POV, since he's my main viewpoint character. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan are harder to completely get into; I'm not all the way in their heads and hearts, just... very close? I can still read them, know what would make sense for them to see and say and feel, I just don't feel it quite as strongly. (Xue Yang feels things very strongly. Very strongly. I have cried. Multiple times.)

So yep, uh. Short answer; ”be crazy, vividly pretend you're other people”. Kind of. :D

37. Do you ever write long handed or do you prefer to type everything?

Type! Dear gods, trying to write by hand drives me crazy – I need to be able to polish things as I go along, so writing by hand means tons of tiny notes in margins and lots of frustration. So no. Typing all the way.

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

That I'm doing it at all.

I think I've mentioned this one before, but it's true! My brain has taken a lot of bad beatings, being pushed far beyond capacity by all those years trying to perform to not only neurotypical but gifted standards, and inevitably failing again, and again, and again... Successive burnouts can lead to permanent brain damage, and these days I struggle a lot with focus and memory issues.

A lot of things I used to take for granted in plotting stories I just can't do anymore, my brain won't let me – if I don't write things down and outline them, I forget. Being able to focus at will – nu-uh. Trying to force it, writing in a non-native language when having a bad brain day? Not happening. It's always a struggle – most days I manage to overcome it, especially if I've been encouraged by comments and questions that get my brain kickstarted! But some days I just can't.

I'm trying to look at what I've achieved so far and feel proud, and try not to think too hard about what I used to be able to do. I'm doing well, all things considered!

And of course I'm also very proud of the impact my writing has on others, especially when people comment and tell me I made them cry, or feel some other strong emotion..! That's amazing, the best feeling in the world. ♥♥♥

17. What things (scenes/topics/character types) are you most comfortable writing?

Oh... I think I'm honestly pretty versatile? I don't have a huge preference for what kind of scenes I'm more comfortable with as such, I can do dialogue or action or sex or whatever... It's more about the feel of it? Something with oomph, emotional impact. I do like to write people talking, especially if it's about difficult subjects and lots of emotions involved! Angst, grief, anger, fear... Strong emotions. That's delicious stuff. ♥ (Writing Xue Yang just being a sassy asshole is fun, too, though!)

I prefer writing adult/mature people over teenagers and children (though honestly, with Xue Yang, there's a lot of childishness to him, despite him by now being the technically oldest of the three – when it comes to maturity, he has, uh, range.) I like characters with some emotional insight into others (which Xue Yang has not, Song Lan does have when he tries, and Xiao Xingchen has, except he misses some things these days, not being able to see body language anymore).

And I do like bastards, I really do, villains of various kinds are by far my favourite characters to write - though there has to be a bit of heart to them.

2. Where is your favorite place to write?

I wish I had a cozy little cottage somewhere in the faraway mountains or something, but alas. I do all my writing on my desktop, in my very, very messy studio, very often ”assisted” by at least one cat, often more. (Current helper: Furiel)

Thank you so much for asking, and sorry again for taking so long! I can only point to the bits about bad brain days and shrug a bit helplessly. Sorry! Please know that I’m super-grateful for all questions about this story and the writing of it! Many days finding an Ask in my inbox is literally what gets my brain fired up enough to keep writing! ♥♥♥

[therucrap]

RPDR 13 Episode 1 RuCrap

Hello dear internet! I just started a new page for my first ever RPDR RuCrap so please share and follow and I’ll continue if they catch on! Hope you enjoy!

The lucky 13th season of RuPaul’s Trauma Spectacular launches with the promise of “all new surprises” and a brand new twist that will leave you wondering how you ever sat through a boring old premiere with a coherent intro, climax, and conclusion when you could be enduring a dizzying hour and a half of WOW presents Happy Death Day 3: Covid Edition!

We open up on the trusty trauma center - I mean Werk Room - and the first to enter is NYC’s “Dominican Doll” and human drag lingo See ‘N Say Kandy Muse in an elaborate bejeweled patchwork jean mini dress and MATCHING DENIM BOOMBOX and she immediately informs us that we may know her from the now former Haus of Aja which was recently deconstructed like the pair of Wranglers that Kandy is wearing as fingerless gloves. Kandy is no longer alone in VIP because the befeathered Joey Jay arrives and half-heartedly delivers her intro line. “Filler queen!” We discover that Kandy is likely going to provide our Greek chorus confessional this season and all in a soft smoky eye when she informs us uncultured swine that Joey is wearing the cheapest variety of feather - chicken. Kandy didn’t construct an entire outfit from the remnants section of a Joanne Fabrics and not learn a thing or two about quality, sweetie! Joey is determined to beat viewers to the punchline and immediately clucks around branding herself as “basic” and “filler.” Joey is from the city of Phoenix (and possibly the online University as well) but she’s here to rise like a chicken!

Thunder mysteriously rumbles as RuPaul appears on the digitally enhanced Werk room TV but what could this be?! For all you newbies this is one of the several instances in every season where Ru mixes things up and gives us what we really want: a twist that is equal parts confusing, fucks up the natural order of the competition, and is ultimately unfulfilling! Come on season 13, let’s put a bunch of queer people through even more turmoil in a pandemic! Ru has a surprise but they’ll have to head to the mainstage to get the full story that they’ll be recounting to a mental health professional later!

We’re merely four minutes in and here comes Ru down the runway dressed like a glitterdot jellyfish! Our tour guide on Trauma Island introduces us to the main panel of judges for the season - Disco Morticia Addams and the two human Trapper Keepers who are now separated by glass because for the first time in Drag Race herstory we’re in the middle of a international health crisis, mawma!

Now let’s get down to trauma! Ru explains that the queens will be pairing off to lipsync unexpectedly as they enter! What could possibly go wrong? Well if you’re hoping that someone comes in wearing blades on their feet well just stick around because I have quite the treat for you! Our Dungaree Diva and the Chicken Feather Filler hit the Mainstage looking as confused as Shangela researching CDC protocol on her way to Puerto Vallarta last week. The judges interview our test subjects and immediately bring up the Haus of Aja and Kandy clarifies that she’s now an esteemed member of The Doll Haus along with last season’s ever-gorgeous Dahlia Sinn. I personally prefer not to say that Dahlia was eliminated first but instead that she was season 12’s brocco-leading lady! (Writer’s note: if you’re thinking “there’s a drag show called The Doll Haus in my hometown... is it THAT Doll Haus?!” No, there’s a drag show called The Doll Haus in almost every city in America but now, like with the former Sharon Needles, Kim Chis, and Penny Trations of the world, this one’s been on TV and alas, the others must now rename themselves)! Joey also charms the judges with her plucky demeanor and it’s already time to lipsync feather they like it or not!

Gay anthem Call Me Maybe by Canadian legend Carley Rae Jepson begins and Kandy immediately pushes a fake button on her DENIM BOOMBOX to start the party. Honestly... crown her right there on the spot. We will ALWAYS give points for prop work and the Carrot Top of the Bronx does not disappoint. Both are energetic but it’s The Dutchess of Denim who wins by infusing humor and our feathered friend is given “the Porkchop” but before we can even wrap our head around what this means for the state of the competition we snap back to the Werk Room to meet our next unsuspecting victims!

Now dear reader, this is the part where I’m just going to cut the shit. The set-up they’re selling us is that the losers of these premiere lipsyncs will be eliminated from the show but they are obviously not about to Porkchop half of the cast on day one so just stick with me while we suspend disbelief and go on RuPaul’s Totally Twisted Trauma Adventure as she convinces 6 gay people who just spent upwards of $10,000 on clothing, jewelry, and hair and then meticulously packed it into regulation suitcases to travel here during a pandemic after probably not making any money for the last four months (this was filmed in July) that they are going home on day one! This herstory-making twist, like so many before it, exemplifies the show’s worst qualities: a lack of empathy for its contestants, an underestimation of viewer intelligence and ability to decode heavy-handed editing witchery, and its love for completely dismantling its own format every year for the sake of drama. Whatever keeps the Emmy’s coming, baby! When you’re on the other side of one of these twists you usually feel like you just finished your morning coffee only to find out that the barista gave you decaf. Your mind will be blown when it’s happening but the payoff is usually at the expense of the show’s own legitimacy. With that said... this is the punishment we come to gleefully endure every year and we’re not here to complain, we’re here to watch gay people break down, dammit!

It’s deja Ru all over again as we snap back to the Werk Room where Chicago’s Denali walks in on ice skates and immediately ruins any chance of a deposit return for the bumpy, rented roll-out vinyl floors and declares “Let me break the ice!” She’s wearing the expensive feathers that Joey Jay didn’t spring for. Denali might not be the first ice skater on Drag Race but she’s the one I didn’t watch shit on a dick on Twitter last week so let’s give credit where it’s due. Ugh I wish Trinity the Tuck could block THAT from my memory! Next up is Atlanta’s Lala Ri whose white blazer, body suit, and unteased hair is immediately called basic by an icy Denali in confessional. Denali is confident but we know something that she doesn’t and Lala is wearing a sensible dancing ankle boot not two blades on her feet so let’s see how this turns out!

The lipsync song is “When I Grow Up” by Nicole Scherzinger and her assistants who were accidentally given microphones a few times! Denali struggles to conceal her wayward nipples during some ambitious dance moves and all while in skates but Lala gives us a good old fashioned drag performance and a big finale split unbothered by an elaborate costume and ultimately ices Denali who signs off with “Feeling icy, feeling spicy!” Asking these queens to lipsync upon entering is one thing but asking them to improvise their exit lines 10 minutes in is just cruel!

Denali heads backstage devastated where SURPRISE... Joey Jay is sitting alone in a sad room made of plywood walls featuring a bunch of pictures of first eliminated queens, an ominous “Porkchop Loading Dock” sign, and some cocktail tables with no cocktails (how dreadful).

Before we get the full picture and God for bid our bearings on Mr Charles’ Wild Ride let’s leave this plywood hellscape and jump back into the familiar comfort of the Werk Room’s pixelated neon pink faux brick walls where LA’s modelesque Symone stomps in wearing a dress made of tiny Polaroids of herself. She’s stylish, her energy is fresh, and she’s clearly one to watch. Then dear reader life as we know it changes. A breeze comes through the room and God herself blesses us when living legend and matriarch of the Iman dynasty Tamisha Iman from Atlanta arrives in a pointy-shouldered red power suit and proclaims to us simple townsfolk “Holler at me, I know you know me. Holler at me, I know you know me. Tamisha is here!” The sea parts, the crops are replenished, and all war stops on Earth. On stage Tamisha reveals that she’s been doing drag for 30 years (which seems like a long time to us mere mortals) and that she was originally cast last season but was diagnosed with colon cancer two days later and had to stay home for chemo. The lipsync gods wisely choose The Pleasure Principle by Janet Jackson and Tamisha gives us exact Janet arm choreo while Simone is sultry yet commanding as she shakes her Polaroids. The judges determine that Simone was picture perfect and American hero Tamisha Iman is sent to Porkchop’s Shipping Crate of Horrors to join the nest with the fancy feather option and the chicken feather option.

We begrudgingly crawl back onto RuPaul’s ever-circling carousel of doom and plop back into the workroom where accomplished LA celebrity makeup artist GottMik stomps in wearing a wacky toile dress and a full face of white makeup declaring that it’s “Time to crash the system!” GottMik is Drag Race’s first trans man contestant (and first knowingly cast trans contestant at all) for which we cheer excitedly and then immediately look at our watches because that took too long. Next up Minneapolis’s towering Utica wriggles in with a sneeze and declares “She’s sickening!” which is just the pandemic humor I came here for! Contaminate me, mom! This gay scarecrow is wearing a series of crazy patterns and a big strawberry on her head and the two of them appear to be from the same traveling circus. These two Big Comfy Couch characters slink over to the main stage where Utica explains that her cranial statement fruit symbolizes tackling obstacles because she used to be allergic to strawberries as a kid but she grew out of it. In RuPaul’s heavy universe of heart wrenching struggles that contain chronic illness and societal rejection, Utica’s animated world that suffers only of outgrown childhood strawberry problems is a welcome one. These two lanky rag dolls will be lipsyncing to Rumors by her majesty Lady Lohan of Mykonos and the vibe is instantly wacky. I wouldn’t say that either of them are the next Kennedy Davenport but they did complement each other well on the invisible obstacle course they were both miming through. Utica’s hair flops over her eye, there’s galloping and floor humping, GottMik does a split, there’s elbows and knees aplenty, and all that’s missing is dancing poodles. The judges are tickled by the kookiness of both of these human windsocks but Gotmikk snatches the win. Neither of these two are going to win So You Think You Can Dance but luckily this is RuPaul’s So You Think You Can Trauma so we’re in luck!

Our homosexual Groundhog Day continues back in the Werk Room where we meet NYC’s Rosé who gets the Brita treatment where she’s presented as a legendary New York queen and then the editors quickly get to work making her look delusional. She’s accomplished, confident, and Drag Race’s favorite personality type to dismantle and then trick into returning to All-Stars for a redemption only to dismantle again. Rosé’s fresh-faced foil Olivia Lux enters and lights up the place right away in a velvet pink and yellow gown. She’s a humble NYC newby who has competed in shows hosted by the established Rosé and we already know what’s about to happen here. The lipsync is Exes and Oh’s by Elle King which which was a choice. Olivia strips off her gown to reveal a bodysuit so she can really articulate and Rosé does the world’s least exciting split that looked like me trying unsuccessfully separate wooden chopsticks. Olivia triumphs and Rosé fizzles as she heads to the It Didn’t Werk Room aka Porkchop’s sparsely decorated storage closet to be with the other Have Nots.

We’re almost to the finish line and we limp, slightly disoriented, back to the Werk Room where we meet Tina Burner, another NYC theater kid with the confidence of a thousand Patti LuPones who is dressed like a Ronald McDonald firefighter. What she lacks in nuance she makes up for in nonstop fire puns. Next Chicago’s glamorous Kahmora Hall saunters in glowing and is clearly unimpressed with Tina’s constant Joan Rivers impression but maintains a full pageant smile. No choice but to stan. Our final queen is the refreshingly optimistic Elliott with 2 T’s who busts in wearing a bolero jacket, some red pants from the store, and a short pink wig that screams “Sorry I’m late! Here’s my flash drive! I can go on whenever!” Elliott dances in sing-talking her entrance line like the TGIFriday’s server she is: “I’m the queen you want to see. Elliot with two T’s. Okay! Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh! Okay!” Elliot is a dancer from Las Vegas and has the unhinged camp counselor energy of someone with snacks in her purse at all times.

On the Mainstage Tina cycles through the last of her introductory fire puns and tells the judges she was in a boy band which honestly tracks. Tina and Rosé share a similar NYC gotta-get-a-gimmick energy but for some reason production has decided to give Rosé the womp womp edit and Tina the superstar edit. The song is Lady Marmalade because we haven’t been though enough and Kahmora serves subdued sexy glamour, Elliott does the splits, and Tina bobs and weaves between the two with full play-to-the-back-row comedy queen energy. Tina extinguishes the dreams of the other two and RuPaul sends the final two losers to the chokey.

The worst is over (we think) and our frazzled cast of hopefuls finally gets to know eachother in their two very different groups. The winning queens in the Werk Room are celebrating and as blissfully unaware of the doom around them as Miss Vanjie and Silky Ganache at a Puerto Vallarta circuit party during a pandemic. Over in Porkchop’s Junk Drawer the camera looms unnecessarily close to the crestfallen losers’ now disheveled wigs and sweat drenched makeup. Ru’s voice bellows over the speaker to tell this motley crew to get out and then as the last bit of light leaves their weary eyes she checks back in to tell them that she wasn’t serious! Oh good! Finally a moment of mercy for these once hopeful queens on their first day of RuPaul’s Wipeout! She then reveals that the full twist is that she is only going to send one home but they have to vote amongst the group of losers to decide who it is! Yes, that’s correct! This group of broken queens who just met and mostly have never seen eachother perform will now be expected to turn on eachother and give up their last bit of dignity to either grovel or just straight up fight with eachother! This must be what the Donner Party’s last night looked like. The queens look around broken and wounded but still hungry, their eyes barely open, their lacefronts only partially attached to their heads, and start deciding which of their own is about to get consumed. Her highness Tamisha Iman reminds them "Well, I'm the only black girl so don't vote me off” and just like that we are TO BE CONTINUED!

Thus concludes our first headspinning episode that despite being reliably frustrating has once again sucked us in and against our better judgement entertained us to the fullest! As for our 13 queens- you can use code HERSTORY on Talkspace while relaying tonite’s events to a sickening liscensed therapist!

[princecharmingmendes]

Just the Way You Are | Peter Mendes

Peter gets even more insecure about his feelings towards you, that you don’t even know about (Best Friends to Lovers).

* Hi! This is my first work ever on this site, so I’d love if you guys could give me some feedback or whatever, it would mean the world to me!

*Word count: 4.7k

*Warnings: mentions of sex, drinking, cursing, adorable Peter, and I guess that’s it!

*Posted: December 2nd, 2019.

                                                        -*-

“Y/N?” Peter asked breathlessly answering his phone.

“Are you okay?” She asked with her voice a little weird.

“Yeah, I was just editing some photos, really focused and only noticed my phone was ringing when it fell of my nightstand, so I had to run or you’d have reached voicemail”

“Sorry, I didn’t even think to text you to see if you’re awake or with someone, or studying”

“It’s okay, so, why are you calling me on a Wednesday at one a.m.?”

“I just got home from that trip I told you I was going with Jake...”

“Oh, great, how was it?” Peter sighed closing his eyes and rubbing his temple with his free hand, already hating himself for asking.

“It sucked” She said pacing around her room.

“Really? Why?”

“He was extremely selfish and rude with everyone, I just wanted to leave as fast as I could”

“Was he rude to you?”

“No, just annoying”

“That’s a little less fucked up, isn’t it?”

“Dunno, don’t care, I dumped him” She said shrugging and laying in her bad, starring at a picture of her and Peter hugging and smiling, with Shawn and Raul kneeled in front of them with the funniest expressions.

“You did what?”

“I ended whatever we had”

“Why?!”

“You didn’t seem to like him that much to care about the reason why I dumped him, I thought that you’d be thrilled”

“I didn’t, I hated him, it’s just, I... how are you dealing with it? I thought you actually liked him and stuff”

“He was... fine I guess, it’s not like he was the love of my life”

“Don’t you miss him?”

“I was with him like, two hours ago”

“You know what I meant”

“I know, I’m sorry... it’s just... is it bad that I don’t? Like, at all?”

“Of course not, just means that you did the right thing, angel... it wasn’t meant to be”

“God, I just wish I could hug you and squeezing you right now”

“It’s late, angel, you should sleep”

“I know, I’m sorry, what are you guys doing this weekend?”

“Nothing, just going to Shawn’s place, he’s getting back tomorrow night”

“Oh, that’s nice”

“Do you want to join us?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! They love you as much as I do, and we miss you” 

“Okay, then count me in, are you sleeping there?”

“No, I’m coming back home with Raul”

“Okay, can you give me a ride?”

“Do you want to sleep here?”

“At your house?”

“Yeah, that’s dumb, sorry, sure, I’ll give you a ride”

“No, it’s not, I’d love to crash there”

“Great, angel, see you Saturday then?” Peter asked trying to confirm that he wasn’t going completely nuts with a smile that was already hurting her cheeks.

“Yeah! That will be perfect! Thank you so much, Peter, I love you”

“I love you too, goodnight, angel”

And just like that, they both went to bed with the most idiot smiles plastered on their faces.

                                                        -*-

When Saturday arrived, Peter went to the gym to try to spend as much energy as he could, seeing her after a month is literally almost killing him. They’ve been friends since they wore diapers, the four of them to be precise. But she’s always been closer to him. He had a crush on her since he was seventeen and he hid that like it was the worst thing that had ever happened in his life. Shawn and Raul only found out last year, on Shawn’s twenty first birthday, where they saw Peter drinking more than usual because she was making out with her boyfriend at the time.

What Peter didn’t know was that she started falling for him when they’re fifteen. 

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about seeing the triplets, especially because they’ve never been so many days apart, except for Shawn that was touring the world. But spending the last month and a half away from her best friends, specially Peter, was actually bothering her. She spent the rest of the days until Saturday counting the hours to see them. She simply couldn’t wait to hug and annoy the he’ll out of them. 

So now she’s sitting in her bed, staring at her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. A nice outfit would be good to say “I’m single but I’m so fine with my self” or “hi, missed you, I’m too intimate with you to care about how I look and I want to be comfortable”. In the end, she ended up opting for a tight tank top, some cute sweatpants and a pair of her favorite sneakers. Her hair was naturally wavy and face bare of makeup, except for mascara and lip balm. 

She grabbed her backpack with her toiletries and a few clothes to change later and headed out the building, deciding to walk to Peter’s place instead of driving, it was only a few blocks away and it was still day. She left early anyway, so since walking would take longer, she opted for that to don’t be early, since he told her to go there around seven.

Well, she was too eager and ended up early anyways. She was in the front of the building deciding if she should go upstairs or if she should wait twenty minutes til seven. When she was almost giving up and heading for the coffee on the corner, she felt someone wrapping their arms around her torso from behind and she completely froze, relaxing a bit when she heard his laugh.

“Hey, baby!” 

“Raul!” She said turning around and hugging him as tight as possible.

“What are you doing down here?”

“I got here too early, didn’t know if I was supposed to just go upstairs or wait”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, you know you can come in anytime, you even got the key”

“Yeah, whatever”

“Let’s go?”

“Sure” I said letting go of him but he never let me, so he kept his arm around my shoulders.

“Pete’s dying to see you”

“Really?” She said lightly chuckling.

“Yeah, he’s been driving me nuts”

“Oh, come on, he’s sweet”

“Of course you’d say that, you love him!”

“Hey! I really appreciate him as a friend”

“Uh sure, so you’re just gonna lie and say you don’t have a crush on my brother”

“Fuck you, Raul” I said pushing his shoulder playfully and he full on laughed getting out of the elevator.

“I’ll be right back” Raul said in the moment we stepped into his place and disappeared on the hallway to his bedroom.

I wandered around the place, seeing new pictures hanging on the wall and admiring every little detail in every single one of them, knowing that Peter probably took it and spent hours editing. Just when I grabbed on that was me and only me I heard his voice.

“Raul, who were you taking to?” Peter asked and I turned around, placing the picture on the couch and pretty much throwing myself at him, wrapping him in the tightest hug I could possibly give “hey, angel” he said surprised as heck, wrapping his arms around me just as tightly and kissing my hair multiple time, taking me off the ground.

“Hey, Pete” I said nuzzling my face on his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“You’re early” he said chuckling.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, I’m glad you’re here” he said kissing my temple.

“God, I missed you so much”

“I missed you too, sweetheart”

“Not as much as I did”

“I doubt that” Raul said coming from behind Peter “dude, put on some clothes at least”

That’s when she noticed that his skin was not completely dry, his hair was damp and he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/N quickly let go of him and walked backwards, feeling her cheeks burn, and she was able to see Peters whole body tint pink. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N”

“No, it’s okay, Pete, I don’t mind, go change, I’ll be here”

“I’m sorry” he said going back to his room.

“Damn, I didn’t know you were that crazy about him”

“Oh, fuck off, Raul” I said rolling my eyes “I didn’t even noticed that he was partially naked”

“Oh, but you liked the view, he is working out a lot more than he used to”

“I noticed that, he’s bigger than you”

“He is”

“What happened?”

“He’s just interested in getting built or something”

“Why?”

“Maybe a girl, I don’t know”

“Is he seeing someone?!”

“Don’t know, he doesn’t really talk about it in details”

“Oh”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing really” Raul said shrugging “when are going to go to Shawn’s?”

“I don’t know, is he home yet?”

“Probably, I’m just gonna call him to check” Peter said texting him “he said we can go now, he just asked us to go to the market first, to grab somethings”

“Fine, lemme just grab my jacket, okay?” Raul asked going back to his room.

“Sure”

“Do you want to leave you things on the guest room?”

“Guest room?”

“Yeah, we have one now”

“Nice”

“Yeah, so... do you want to leave your things there?”

“Mhm”  She mumbled and following to the room he pointed, dropping her stuff on the bed. 

“Come on, losers, let’s grab Shawn’s list and head to his house” Raul called from the front door.

“Oh, shut up, douche” She said rolling her eyes and trying to suppress a laugh.

Peter chuckled and offered his hand for her to grab, and she happily did it. 

                                                       -*-

They grabbed a lot of snacks and Shawn’s requests which were always the same since he was away for too long and had nothing on his fridge. We went straight to his condo after the little market stop by and Peter parked at his spot in his brother’s garage. When they got in the elevator she was practically bouncing of excitement to finally see Shawn, Raul couldn’t stop himself from laughing and Peter was constantly grinning at her. 

“Go, just get in and hug him” Raul said patting her back.

She quickly did what he said when the elevator doors opened and barged into his house.

“Hey, gu... Y/N?” Shawn sounded extremely surprised, but quickly ran to her and hugged her as tight as possible.

“Hey, rockstar”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

“No one told you I was coming?”

“No! God I missed you!” Shawn said spinning her around making her laugh.

“Surprise!” Raul announced getting in with the bags “not saying hello to your big bro?”

“Hey, I had lunch with you guys yesterday, I don’t see her in ages!”

“What are the plans for today?” Peter said placing everything in place in Shawn’s kitchen, Y/N running there to help him.

“I thought we could watch something, talk, have a few drinks and maybe play some games, for old times sake”

“Count me in” Raul said.

“I’m cool with it” She said placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“So am I”

“Cool, I’m ordering pizza” Shawn announced.

“Me and Pete are getting the kitchen organized”

“I’m getting the living room ready”

                                                        -*-

After they ate three whole pizzas, a movie in and a few beers down, except for Peter who’s going to drive back, they started debating which movie they should watch next. Shawn was sitting with his feet on the central table, Raul was lying on the floor. Y/N and Peter were on the same side of the “L” shaped couch, she was with a pillow on her lap and her legs on top of Peter’s lap, which he was gently caressing, but never going to far high, always the sweetest. 

“Just put on something random and let’s talk”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Raul, Friends maybe” she said shrugging.

“Fine”

“So, Shawn, how was tour?”

“Amazing, the last leg was fantastic, everything was great, the crowd was fantastic” 

“That’s so nice, I’m so fucking proud of you” She said smiling and Shawn.

“Thank you, honey, what about you?”

“Me?”

“How was that trip?”

“Shitty, dumped him”

“Why?”

“He didn’t deserve her” Peter mumbled.

“What?” Raul asked turning around to face us.

“He was not enough, he was rude and didn’t treat her the way she deserved”

“If you say so...” Shawn said shrugging.

“Peter’s actually right, he was just... whatever”

“You’re fine?”

“Couldn’t be better” she said lying her head on Peter’s shoulder.

“That’s great” 

“You know what we should do?”

“What, Raul?” Peter asked rolling his eyes at his brother.

“Play some sort of truth or dare”

“Oh no” Y/N said chuckling.

“What do you me by ‘some sort of’?”

“We can just ask questions, like, spin something and ask something, if the person doesn’t want to answer, the person needs to do a dare”

“Okay, that seems innocent enough” Shawn said chuckling.

“Guys, are we twelve or something?” Peter asked playing with his fingers, clearly nervous. 

“Why? Scared?”

“Fuck off, Raul”.

“Are you in?”

“Yeah, whatever” Peter said sighing and she grabbed his hand.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want it”

“No, it’s okay, angel, I’ll do it” Peter said kissing my knuckles.

“Fine, everybody on the floor!” Raul said downing his beer bottle and everybody settled down on the fluffy rug.

“Okay, I’m spinning” Shawn said grabbing the bottle from Raul’s hand and spinning it, the edge pointing to me.

“Okay, you’re gonna ask a question and the three of us are going to answer, if we choose not to, we have to do something, you can propose a dare”

“Cool, who was your worst kiss?”

“Just like that, huh?” Raul asked grinning at her.

“Sure!”

“Mine was with that nurse I dated for two weeks” Raul said.

“Five days, Raul, mine was my ex”

“But you guys were together for a few months, Pete!”

“I know, I liked her, we just didn’t fit”

“Well, mine was my first, awful experience”

“Okay, great, I’m spinning now?”

“Yep!”

So she did and it was Shawn’s turn.

“What was the worst thing you’ve ever done in school?”

“Uuuh, that’s easy, I purposely blowed up the chemistry class so I could go home early to watch a game without ditching”

“I thought you were going to say you burned someone”

“Hey, Y/N, I’m not that bad”

“Whatever, Raul, the worst thing I’ve ever done? Oh, I went on a date with that substitute teacher and the next day we made out on the library, and then I never saw him again, Mr. Harrison was back”

“I can’t believe it! You were like seventeen!” Shawn sounded extremely shocked.

“He was twenty something at the time, not so old, okay? What about you, Pete?”

“Me? I... o helped someone cheat on a test or something”

“Really? I didn’t think you did that” Raul said with his brow arched.

“Well, it was a one time thing”

“That makes a little more sense” Shawn said spinning.

“Peter!”

“Hmm... when was the last time you guys actually liked someone, as in, really like?”

“Last year”

“Two years ago”

“What about you, angel?”

“Me? I don’t, maybe now?”

“Now?!”

“That’s another question, Peter” She said chuckling, making him blush.

“Yeah, right, sorry” he said spinning the bottle.

“Finally! Okay, where was the craziest place you guys did it? And I’d say something like Eiffel Tower I’ll literally murder you, Shawn” Raul said making all of them laugh.

“The jet” Shawn said shrugging.

“On the hood of my ex’s car”

“Holy crap, really? Where?”

“And the end of a cliff we used to hang out at, it was always very empty” she said playing with the throw pillow on her lap.

“That’s nice” Raul said smirking.

“Fuck off”

“And you, Peter?” Shawn asked.

“The end of the bed, I guess” he said lowly and sighing, feeling a hand being placed on his thigh, seeing her fingers lightly caressing the area. 

“Why don’t we play a little bit of Mario kart?”

“Why? This is nice!” Raul said crossing his arms.

“What? Are you afraid to loose for a little girl?”

“Never, let’s play, baby!”

“Fine, will go find the remotes, come help me, Raul” Shawn said getting up.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re a looser”

“Fuck you” he said getting up and pushing Shawn into the hallway.

“Thanks” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“For what?”

“For getting me out of that situation” he almost whispered.

“Hey, of course, you don’t have to thank me, Pete, I’ll always have your back” she said grabbing his hand.

“Thank you” he said kissing the back of her hand “can I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot”

“Who do you like?”

“We’re not playing the game anymore”

“I know, I just thought that there were no secrets between us, Angel”

“There aren’t, it’s just that it’s nothing serious, he doesn’t even know yet, and I don’t know if I want this to become a thing so yeah, anyway, I’m sorry, I promise I will tell you if I change my mind about him”

“Okay” he said kissing her forehead and she smiled at him.

“Found them!” Shawn said coming back to the room.

“Great” She said getting up and sitting on the couch “ready to loose, Raul?”

“I’m not loosing”

“Yeah, you are” Peter said climbing on the couch as well.

And so they spent their night like that, between teasing, laughing, eating junk food and just spending some precious time together, which has become more rare with their schedules. Around two in the morning Peter decide it’s time to get back home and leave Shawn to rest, so the three of them go back to the boys’ apartment. Raul went straight to his room, not before kissing the top of your head goodnight, and probably fell asleep pretty quickly.

Peter did the same thing, but went to the guest room with her to wish her goodnight and kiss her forehead one more time, before going back to his room. She couldn’t sleep well that night, feeling a little weird towards Peter, he got all weird after the game and wouldn’t talk to her. But what she didn’t know, is that he couldn’t either. He spent the whole night rolling on his bed, thinking how pathetic he was and how she would never fall for him if he was still like that. 

                                                        -*-

One week. That’s how long Peter’s been acting weird. He suddenly attended parties in the middle of the week, wasn’t wearing his glasses, and had a date every single night, but still trying to make time for Y/N by meeting her for lunch. Raul noticed the difference as well and actually asked him what was that all about, but he only got a “there’s nothing different, I just never told you guys about it” as an answer and that only triggered Y/N more. Since when was he lying to her?!

On the next weekend she went to the boy’s house without texting any of them. It’s not something that she had ever done before, but still, it felt weird. So there she was, in front of their apartment door, considering knocking or just barging in. So she just grabbed her key and got in, not seeing any sign of the guys there. She made herself at home, dropping her bag at the couch and went straight to Peter’s room, not finding him there. So Y/N just sat at his bed and waited until he got home, but she ended up falling asleep.

When Peter got home, after going out with another girl just to impress her or forget her, whatever happened first, he could swear his heart melted. She was sprawled on his bed, cuddling the hoodie he left there and curled into herself. He quickly grabbed a blanket and placed over her, leaving his things on his room and heading for the kitchen to make them both something to eat. Deciding to ditch the party he didn’t even wanted to go to be with her.

“Hey?” Her voice sounded soft from behind him.

Peter turned around to see her actually wearing his hoodie and with her hair in a messy bun. 

“Hey, you’re up”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know I fell asleep, sorry”

“Hey, it’s okay, you know I love having you here, everything’s okay?”

“With me? Yes, what are you doing?”

“Pasta, for us, Raul’s at the hospital and he’s not coming back today”

“Oh, sorry to bother your Saturday’s plans”

“It’s okay, you’ll always come first, so, what brought you here?”

“You”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, Peter, we need to talk, can we?”

“Of course, just let me do something about dinner” he said tiding up the kitchen “wanna sit on the couch?”

“Okay” she said turning around and sitting there with her legs crossed, he sat on the same couch, turning to face her.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

“You are all wrong”

“Me?! What’s wrong with me?”

“What’s wrong with you? In one day you changed completely, started partying on week days, having several dates in 24 hours, ditching classes, not wearing your glasses, you even got your ears pierced”

“That’s me!”

“That’s not you! And really, if that’s what you want to be, fine, I don’t care, I love you, but everything happened so fast and I never thought you would be someone like this”

“Like what? Actually nice? Actually interesting? Someone girls would want?”

“No!”

“No what? What’s wrong with me being lime this? I’m not boring old nerd, I’m actually someone desired and cool, can’t you see it?”

“See what?”

“That like this I’m not invisible anymore, people actually want to be around me, they see me the same way people see Shawn and Raul, I’m not there shadow anymore”

“Pete...”

“No, Y/N, that’s the first time you actually noticed me? Even my best friend didn’t see me, Shawn is the popstar, Raul is the bad boy with a golden heart, and me? Well, I know how to use a camera and can’t say ‘no’ to anyone, wow, the best triplet”

“Pet...”

“People would only talk to me to get to one of them, maybe even Aaliyah”

“P...”

“And to add to the whole equation, I’m not enough for you. I’m not cool enough, I’m not hot enough, I’m not the kind of guy the would be brave enough to have sex with you on the hood of my car in the middle of nowhere, I’m not the guy that parties all night and wear cool clothes, or has a bunch of tattoos and lots of ex girlfriends, or am the best kisser, or the most talented or...”

“Peter, shut up!” She said watching the guy in front of her almost pull all of his hair out.

“I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear this, I’m just...”

“You’re perfect!”

“I’m what?”

“You’re perfect, Peter”

“No, I’m...”

“Hey hey hey, you talked too much already, lemme speak a little, okay?” She asked grabbing his hands while he nodded “yeah, you’re not the ‘coolest’ triplet or whatever, but you’re equally talented and hot, you might not be a bad boy who would fuck me on the fucking top of the Eiffel Tower, or the one that would take me to hundreds of parties, or wear leather jackets, or date a bunch of people” with that Peter lowered his head but she wouldn’t have it, so she cupped his face with both hand, kneeling in front of him “but you’re my Peter, the guy who would light up the whole place with candles and dance around the apartment with me, who would take me to an art exposition and tell me everything about the guys technique, who wears the coziest hoodies and the sweetest glasses, who dates only a few girls, but makes them feel like they are the only one in the world, you’re my person, Peter, you’re the guy I’ve fallen in love since I am fifteen years old and tried to forget all the time cause you’re my best friend and I didn’t want to ruin it, okay? I love you, just the way you are, Pete, don’t you dare change yourself to please somebody else”

“You love me? Like that?” He asked with wide eyes.

“I love you, just like that”

“Oh my God, are you for real?”

“One hundred percent” she said giggling and kissing the tip of his nose.

“I love you too, so so so much” he said placing his hands carefully on her sides.

“Good, now promise me one thing” she said leaning forward.

“Anything”

“Don’t ever lie to me again, if you feel insecure again, talk to me, okay? I’ll always love and support you, no matter what” she said mere inches way from his face.

“Okay, angel, I promise”

“Great, now can I kiss you or not?” She asked with a smug grin on her face that was quickly erased by his lips colliding with hers in the sweetest kiss she’s ever had.

Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, making her fall on his lap, straddling his body. She ran her hand through his curls, tugging lightly making him groan slightly, and a little after that, she felt his tongue on her lower lip making her part her lips almost instantaneously, deepening the kiss.

They spent a while just lazily making out on the couch, curious hands discovering each other’s bodies in ways they’ve never done before. After a while they parted just slightly, to recover the breaths and he rested his forehead on hers, panting a bit. They both had the most stupid smiles plastered on their faces. 

“Angel?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me? Let’s say, tomorrow at lunch?”

“I’d love to... Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course you can!”

“But like... with you? And maybe cuddle?”

“Yes, yes you can”

“Okay” she said pecking his lips and getting up, receiving a whine from him”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m starving, I want the pasta you promised me!”

“Fine, but then I’m not letting you go, this still feels too much like a dream to me”

“Seems fair” she said chuckling and offering him her hand, which he gladly took.

“Let me finish our food”

And with that, he was back at cooking, bur eventually taking breaks to peck her lips softly. They ate in front of the tv, watching a random romcom and making fun of it. After that, they cleaned everything up and headed for his room, in which he changed into a pair of sweatpants and she took her jeans off, deciding to sleep only in his hoodie (and he wasn't complaining about it). They lied down together and immediately tangled themselves and started to talk about everything and anything until they fell asleep, which she did first, giving Peter some time to admire her and let the facts that happened that night sink in.

He never felt happier, and neither did she.

                                                        -*-

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” They both sat up extremely quickly to the sound of someone shouting at the end of the bed “why were you barely dressed on top of him?” Raul asked in a normal tone this time, but still sounding like he saw a three headed unicorn.

“We got our shit together yesterday and I guess we are together now” She said simply, laying back on Peter’s bed.

“Are you two together for real?”

“Yeah, Raul, now can you just leave? We went late to bed and I’m tired” Peter said laying back and pulling Y/N to lay on his chest.

“Okay, okay, sorry, guess I’ll see you at lunch?”

“We’re going out on a date, but maybe later, now leave” Peter said playing with Y/N’s hair.

“I can’t believe it, I have to call Shawn” Raul said leaving the room.

“Well, I didn’t want you to wake up like that” Peter mumbled kissing her forehead.

“It’s okay, waking up with you beside has always been the best, but now is even better” 

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, if we go back to sleep and wake up later we can pretend this never happened”

“That’s an amazing idea, Angel” Peter said kissing her hair softly and going back to playing with her hair.

“I love you” she whispered lightly before going back to sleep.

“I love you too, Y/N”

                                                         -*-

*I have a few more projects planned and a few that are almost done.

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know if I’m supposed to keep posting or something like that.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this.

*Guess that’s it, hope you guys enjoy it! 

*xoxo*

-🌙

[goldenpctals]

TRUTH BOOTH, elodie edition

GENERAL QUESTIONS

1. Please state your full name: My name is Elodie Yoon-ah Gwan 2. Does your name(s) have any kind of meaning? If so, what is it? Not completely sure? I know Elodie is some kind of flower and Yoon-ah means ‘light of god’ 3. Do you have any nicknames? Sometimes people call be El or Ellie  4. Where were you born? And in which country? I was born in Seoul, South-Korea 5. What is your date of birth? January 4 in year 1996  6. Of course, the following question; what is your Zodiac sign? I’m a Capricorn 7. Do you believe in Zodiac signs? Sometimes? I like to think so?  8. Where do you live? I live in Violet Springs, in Violet Heights to be exact 9. What is your home situation like? (ex. do you live with your family? Your partner etc.?) I live with my two dads, Edwin and Jonah and with my sister, Ruby 10. Do you have any siblings? Yes, I have two sisters. Ruby and Issy Rosini 11. Do you have any kind of allergies? Not that I know of 12. Do you own any pets? If so, what kind of pets are they? Ruby has the most dogs in the house. However, I have a white cocker spaniel. His name is Baloo and he’s the cutest 13. Why did you apply to St Jude’s? Because I love performing, singing and music 14. Did you had to go through a lot audition rounds? A few. My English wasn’t really that good at the time. I still struggle with it every now and then  15. What is the current course you’re following? I study to course Music 16. If you can switch courses, which one would you switch to and why? If I had to switch, I’d probably pick dancing. It’s one of my greatest loves 17. What is your proudest project you’ve done? So far? My song named Solo. I heard it reached millions of views which is crazy 18. What is the proudest project that someone’s else has done? There are a couple. If I keep going I’ll be talking for a couple of days 19. Do you like FanCons? Yes. I love them!  20. What do you like about FanCons? Getting to meet my fans. I didn’t know I had so many people who care about me and my music. It’s a nice feeling 21. What don’t you like about FanCons? It can be overwhelming at times 22. A fan memory that always stuck with you? Can be positive or negative. A fan gave me a painting and it still hanging above my bed. I just love the vibe of it 23. Your favorite event so far? Hm.. Any kind of charity event 24. What kind of event would you like to see in the future? I think this is done before, but St Judes vs. other universities  25. Would you recommend St Jude’s to friends, family. etc? I would. I think this is the perfect place to chase your dreams 

PERSONALITY QUESTIONS

26. What are your positive traits? I’d like to say that I’m realistic, patient and hard-working 27. What are you negative traits? Probably that I tend to look shy, I’m very cautious and I don’t trust people so easily 28. What would other people describe you as? A shy and awkwar bean 29. What are your pet peeves? Slow walking... 30. What makes you happy? Music makes me happy. Being with friends and family. Just be around good energy  31. What makes you upset? Seeing anyone I care about upset 32. What is something you love? The universe. I’m obsessed with the moon and the stars  33. What is something you dislike? Anger. I don’t really know why people get so angry or caught up over something 34. What are you strengths? My patience 35. What are you weaknesses? I have quite a few, so I’ll PASS this one 36. A misconception people often think of you? I don’t think I’m here long enough? But if I had to say something, probably that .. I have no idea 37. Do you have any fears? Yes  38. What scares you the most? Losing myself again 39. What do you do to entertain yourself? I make songs and go to the studio  40. What is your MBTI? I think it was ISFP 41. How do you deal with stress? This is something I struggle a lot with. I usually sit on a rooftop and I write down how I feel in lyrics.. I just tend to look at the moon a lot too 42. Are you a determined person? Are you a stubborn person? Determind 43. Do you consider yourself selfish? No, I think I put people’s feelings over mine 44. Would you like to be different? I wish I was stronger, mentally  45. Are you more introverted (focused on your inner world) or more extraverted (focused on other people and the outer world)? Introvert

ROMANCE QUESTIONS

46. What is your sexual orientation? I consider myself heterosexual 47. Current relationship status? Single 48. When was your first kiss? It was a couple of months ago 49. Do you remember your first date? If so, with who was it? What did you do? I don’t think I’ve ever been asked out on a proper date so..  50. Have you ever experienced heart-break? Unfortunately, yes. But no because of romance 51. Have you ever been in love? (If yes, skip to question 53) No 52. If no, how so? There’s.. this.. like, wall that’s up pretty high? I’ve been through a lot and I refuse to get hurt again. I think I’m just really scared to fall in love with someone. I have experienced crushes.. Now I have a small one on someone I know I can never be with 53. How do you know when you’re in love? n/a 54. What would be your ideal date? My ideal date would be somewhere nice and quiet, maybe like at a lake or beach and a picnic to get to know each other 55. What is your perspective on marriage? When the right person comes, I’ll be open to it. But for now? I’m way too young to get married 56. (only for non-virgins) Are you a sub, dom or switch? n/a 57. What do you think of relationships? I think it’s beautiful how you can share your love with one another  58. What do you think of one-night stands? I’m not someone to do this. I’d rather get to know someone first before I do anything else. Plus, I want to be super comfortable first and even then, I’d only be intimate when I would be in a relationship 59. Are you still a virgin? Yes, I am 60. Most attractive trait in a different person? Loyalty and caring  61. What matters most to you when it comes to a relationship? Being truthful with one another. And also, be patient with one another  62. Are you comfortable with PDA? Or would you be comfortable with PDA? I’m not completely sure. I don’t really like when someone is extreme. I think I’d prefer just holding hands or a hug?  63. Are you more of a type to be asked out or the type to ask the other out? The type to be asked out, I guess?  64. How do you express love to the other? I think I express my love to others by making sure they’re okay? I don’t really know how to answer this  65. Who is your celebrity crush? Ji Chang-Wook.... He’s so so so dreamy

GETTING DEEP QUESTIONS

66. Do you regret anything? Yes 67. Is there something you woule like to re-do? So, start all over again? I’m so grateful for where I am now. However, my past is really hurtful but even though, life goes the way it’s supposed to go.. right?  68. What is something you would never share with anyone? There are so many things that people don’t know about me or my past. Ruby knows a lot.. but she doesn’t know everything yet and I don’t think I can ever share my memories with someone 69. When was the last time you cried? Why did you cry? Just a couple of days ago. I suddenly felt overwhelmed after Felix’s birthday party. Probably a lot of, held back emotions at once 70. Most memorable event that happened in your time in St Judes? This could be anything: Solo being accepted by so many people. It’s still a miracle to me 71. One thing you wish you could do all over? Nothing 72. Someone you miss? There isn’t anyone that I currently miss 73. Something you wish you could forget? My past 74. Who has the biggest impact on you? Ruby 75. What is your perspective on love? Is it beautiful? Does it scare you? I think it can be beautiful in ways but it’s so scary, though? Love can be so hurtful. I’m not totally against it, I love to love, but --- it’s pretty unpredictable  76. What has hurt you in the past that you don’t want others to go through? Anything that I went through the age of 17 until I was adopted by Edwin and Jonah 77. What is something you have gained, something you have lost and something you let go of during the past year? Something I gained? A family. Something you’ve lost? Myself. But I’m doing very well in finding myself again. Something I let go of? Not much. My mind is still full of things that I wish I could forget  78. Have you ever lost a friend? do you wish you would still be friends? Not really?  79. Do you have any triggers? What is the history behind these triggers and are they related to any disorders or mental illnesses? I have panick attacks at certain events or scenarious? (OOC: She has PTSD and has 2 triggers, however, this hasn’t been diagnosed yet) 80. If you could meet your 16 year old self, what would tell them? You’re happy and you’re doing well. However, in a bout a year or so, someone is going to take you away from your family and you’re going through the worst pain in your life. Someone will introduce themselves as some kind of angel to you, but they will turn out to be your worst nightmare. You will go through a lot. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. This may seem to go on for forever, but you are so strong that you are going to get through this. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you....

RANDOM QUESTION ROUND

81. Summer or Winter? Summer 82. Cats or dogs? Dogs  83. Beach or mountains? Beaches 84. Phone calls or texting? Phone calls 85. Have you ever skipped class? Only when I was dealing with mental health or sickness

[shillanseva]

(prompt) triple treble with beca having a stutter/selective mutism and their way with communication

@uncomfortable-and-queer I have no idea if this is at all what you had in mind and I definitely when overboard, but here it is. I had to do a little research to make sure I understood what selective mutism entailed but I think I got it so I hope you like this. I really enjoyed writing it. (It hasn’t been edited yet, so there are probably mistakes.)

All she wanted was for him to leave. He stood at her open door expectantly, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing would come. 

She hadn’t said a word to him since she was eleven, and he’d left her mother alone, broken, and wondering why she wasn’t good enough. Even before then, she’d said little more than a word or two here and there.

Her mother was the only person who could get a real conversation out of Beca since the time she could talk. And when they did talk, it was about everything and nothing all at the same time. Her mother was her best friend.

When she died, Beca lost the one person left in the world that she was comfortable enough to talk to. It had been breast cancer, which normally, is very curable, but they’d caught it too late. And her health went downhill fast. There was little they could, but make the most of the time they had left together. Her mother’s dying words to Beca were a wish that she would live a life full of love and friendship, a wish Beca wasn’t entirely sure was possible.

She never had the ability to really talk to other people. It just came with the territory. Selective muteness wasn’t as selective as the name implied. Her subconscious made the decisions on who she could or couldn’t talk to. The anxiety was a bitch that way. If Beca wasn’t comfortable, she couldn’t talk. And then when she couldn’t talk, she got more anxious because no one could understand her making her speech block grow. It was a vicious cycle. One she’d been working to jump out of for as long as she can remember.

Her therapist had told her that the way to get past selective muteness as an adult was to eliminate as much anxiety and stress from a scenario as possible and eventually the words would flow. Beca got the point, but as with most things, it was easier said than done. So, now she was standing there in her new dorm room on her first day at college, staring at her father who was waiting for her to say something to him, and she just couldn’t.

She watched him cautiously as thoughts flitted through his mind as he decided what to do. Eventually, he seemed to realize that Beca just wasn’t going to say anything to him—not that he wasn’t used to it. It had been almost eight full years since he heard her voice.

“Alright Beca,” he finally sighed. “I guess I’ll be heading out. Shoot me a text if you need anything.”

Beca nodded her head and waved her hand slightly. Her dad hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. “Really, if you need anything, please reach out. You don’t have to be alone here Beca.”

Beca sighed and nodded again. She knew her dad meant well. Now that she was grown, she couldn’t exactly blame him for not making the relationship with her mother work. They fought constantly. That’s not what a relationship should be—at least she assumed it shouldn’t be. She’d never had a functioning relationship to look up to while she grew up.

Her dad left the room without another word, and Beca turned back to the few bags she’d tossed on the floor when she had arrived on campus. The first thing she pulled out was her mixing equipment. It was already set up with her lap top on her desk in the corner of the room. All that was really left was some clothes and small items. She didn’t have a lot.

Her roommate had already been there and left the minute Beca entered the room without so much as a hello, which was fine with Beca because less talking meant Beca was less likely to come off as a freak for not talking. She found that being silent tended to unnerve people. She had at least developed the ability to push body language through the block so as long as no one tried to really talk to her, she would be fine.

Beca hummed softly to herself as she pulled her clothes from a torn-up, frayed duffle bag on her bunk. Mostly plaid button-downs in various dark shades, and a few pairs of jeans made up her wardrobe. Nothing fancy. Beca just wasn’t a fancy person because a; dresses and dress clothes just fucking sucked, and b; the only fancy occasions she’d gone to (forced) were family events which were basically as rare as blizzards in Atlanta, Georgia. Not that she cared, family wasn’t really a thing to her without her mother.

It only took another fifteen minutes for Beca to put the finishing touches on her unpacking. She thought about sitting down to start working on some of her unfinished projects, but decided against it when she felt her stomach rumble violently. She probably should figure out where the dining hall was. No way was she going to live off ramen.

Beca had to (begrudgingly) admit that Barden’s campus was beautiful. She grew up in the Pacific Northwest, not too far from Seattle, and wasn’t used to the amount of sunlight that came from living in the South. It was hot. Way too hot for the skinny jeans she wore, but she’d deal. She didn’t even own a pair of shorts.

According to the campus map she’d downloaded onto her phone (to avoiding looking like a lost freshman,) the dining hall was only supposed to be on the other side of the quad. The quad that was currently busting at the seams with activity fair booths and over-eager student org types. She shook her head knowing she didn’t have much of a choice, she might as well face it head on. It’s not like she actually had to pay attention to anyone. She’d just keep her head down and move quickly.

Or so was the plan—until a hand thrust a flyer in front of her face and Beca nearly fell backwards from the suddenness of it. She looked up to find the brightest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen in her life. If Beca hadn’t been so captivated by them, she probably would have thought they were kind of ridiculous, cause seriously who has eyes that blue? But, as it was, Beca was captivated. It took a second to shake herself out of her stupor in order to take in the rest of the woman who had stopped her. Her red hair was like something straight out of a magazine, falling in generous waves and framing her face.

“Would you like to join our music group?” the redhead said quickly with a voice that almost made Beca shiver with its sweetness. Her eyebrows rose as she looked down to exam the flyer in front of her. The Barden Bellas, huh?

“We’re an all women acapella group. We sing covers of songs, but do it without any instruments. It all comes from our mouths!” Beca smiles at the oversell the woman gives her. She was cute, in a crazy girl-next-door, had-too-much-sugar kind of way, but Beca had no desire to join any on-campus groups. She was only here for a year to appease her father before she went off to LA to try and make it in the music industry. If Daft Punk could make it without speaking more than a dozen words than so can she. “There are four groups on campus—the Bellas, that’s us. We’re the tits. The BU Harmonics, the High Notes, and the Treblemakers.”

The woman’s smile faltered as she looked in their direction. The group in question was standing towards the edge of the quad aggressively singing towards people as they passed by.

“I’m Chloe, by the way. I am one of the co-captains and behind me is Aubrey,” she said returning her dazzling attention to Beca. Beca glanced behind Chloe to see a blonde woman with what seemed to be a perpetual frown on her face. “Are you interested in auditioning?”

Beca quirked a smile at Chloe and laughed softly, not even realizing it. Honestly, she kind of felt bad. Chloe was friendly enough and it felt kind of like kicking a puppy to say no to her, but come on? Acapella? It was pretty lame. Beca feel another pair of eyes on her as she shook her at Chloe and tried to hand back the flier.

“Aca-scuse me?” the other woman, Aubrey, said approaching the pair from behind Chloe. She’d seen Beca laugh and shake her head at Chloe and her protective instincts flared against the tiny brunette.

“What’s wrong with synchronized lady dancing to a Mariah Carey chart topper?” Her voice was incredulous as if Beca had just insulted her god, which based on that little comment was probably Beyonce. Beca just smirked at the older woman and her eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

Sensing a building tension between the two, Chloe stepped lightly in front of Aubrey and spoke again. “We sing all over the world and compete in national championships.”

So? Beca made a face which bordered the lines of pity and amusement.

“We played the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Center you bitch,” Aubrey said. The silence of the other woman was irritating her. How could this girl rile her up without even a word? Chloe had reached out and grabbed her hand gently whispering a soft “settle” to the blonde. Beca’s eyes raised slightly at the strangely intimate exchange but didn’t have time to read too much into it before Chloe was speaking to her again.

“What Aubrey means to say is that we’re a close-knit, talented group of ladies whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Center this year.” Beca could have sworn Chloe’s eyes got bigger as she spoke, like fucking puppy-dog eyes, they were so huge. “Help us turn our dreams into a reality?”

Beca really did feel like she was kicking a puppy now. She smiled sadly at the redhead and avoided Aubrey’s eyes as she shook her head. She set the flier onto their table as she walked away, hoping to find a part-time job in the throng of tables.

Chloe was following Beca’s path curiously as she weaved through the crowds of people. “She didn’t say one word to us, did she?” Chloe suddenly realized and turned to look at Aubrey. Aubrey shook her head.

“No, she didn’t.”

“Weird,” Chloe said softly to herself.

“She’s probably one of those freak loner types,” Aubrey said with a scowl. “Definitely not Bella material.”

“She was cute though,” Chloe said gauging her girlfriend’s reaction as she said the words. “In an alternative kind of way.”

“Cute.” Aubrey scoffed. “With all those ear monstrosities, it’s hard to believe she doesn’t have a prison tattoo to go with them.”

“Aubrey,” Chloe said laughing gently.

***

Beca managed to find a radio station booth later that day and signed up for an internship. The details were pretty vague, but she was given a time and place to show up the next day and she was pretty excited. Excited enough that she completely forgot why she left her dorm room in the first place. It wasn’t until an hour after she got back to her room that she remembered she still needed to eat.

Her first day of classes was also the next day. She was feeling pretty conflicted about them. Since she was only planning on being at Barden for a year, she had only signed up for fluff classes—the 101s. None of them interested her though so she debated if she would even go to them. The only thing professors did on the first day of class was hand out a syllabus and let you leave, and most of her syllabi were posted online anyway.

Eventually she decided, fuck it, and went to class anyway. She would have rather stuck around her dorm and messed around with some of her mixes, but her roommate had been glaring proverbial daggers at her for two hours by the time she finally left, and it felt like a breath of fresh air to get away from Kimmy Jin. Beca didn’t think she would ever get to the point where she could say anything to her roommate anyway so she was content to let Kimmy Jin hate her.

By mid-afternoon, Beca was nearly jumping out of her skin at her proximity to other people. She could handle herself fairly well in smaller groups or large groups for short periods of times, but 101s were huge lecture hall classes spanning an hour or more. And she had multiple of them in one day. She couldn’t wait to get back her dorm so she could escape for a while.

Her excitement for the radio job had waned some in the exhaustion that came with her anxiety. It was still there, don’t misunderstand, but she knew she’d have to deal with people when she got there, and that is exactly what she didn’t want right now. Like yeah, she got that it was a part of the job, but there was only so much she could take in a day.

It hadn’t turned out as bad as she thought it would though. She was able to get across to Luke that she was nonverbal, and he seemed totally down with that—something about it making her less annoying than the other undergrads trying to get time in the booth. And Beca didn’t think the other new guy even noticed or even stopped talking from the minute he got there to the minute he left. He seemed nice enough, and the fact that he could carry on a conversation by himself without needing Beca’s response was definitely a bonus.

Life carried on like that for another week or so. Beca would get up in the morning and skip class until about four in the afternoon when she’d go in for her shift at the station. When she wasn’t at the station, her eyes were glued to her computer screen arranging, mixing, and sometimes even composing new music. She was fine with the routine. It got her through the day with minimal exposure to other people. That is until the second week of class when her father texted her at eight in the morning asking why wasn’t in her philosophy 101 class.

Beca knew she needed to answer. If she didn’t then he was just going to show up at her dorm room again, and then who knows how long it would be before she got him to leave.

How did you even know? Beca shot off the text and started gathering her stuff to go shower.

You don’t need to know. Why aren’t you there?

She snorts and sends back a response knowing it’ll likely piss him off. I’m posing an important philosophical question: If I don’t actually go to class, will that class still suck?

When he didn’t respond for another five minutes, Beca actually started to get worried that he was coming to her dorm—that is, until a massive paragraph popped up on her screen.

Beca.. I know you’re mad at me and I get it. But you need to get an education. The music industry isn’t so forgiving and someday you might need a backup. You’re missing out on so many experiences by staying in your dorm room. It’s supposed to prepare you for real life. And you’re supposed to create memories here. Do you even have any friends yet?

Okay, so that one hurt a little bit. She knew she was a loner, but he couldn’t exactly blame her. Who wants to be friends with the weird mute kid who wears too much eye liner? She’d had this fight with him at least a dozen times before she got to Barden. All she wanted to do was go to LA, and she didn’t get why he couldn’t accept that. Another message popped up on her screen:

Just try something. Anything. Put yourself out there. A job at the radio station with three weirdos doesn’t count. Just do something with real people, and if in a year, you still want to run off to be some big time music producer then I’ll help you move to LA.

Beca had to do a double take at her phone. No way was he saying that? Was he serious? It was that easy?

But you have to pass all your classes.

Beca sighed in defeat. There went her idea to just skip out on her classes until she could leave. She shot off an “okay” message to her dad then grabbed her towel and toiletries to head to the bathroom.

The bathrooms were usually pretty empty at this time of the day as everyone was off to their classes or the dining hall by now. There were the occasional stragglers like Beca who didn’t give a crap about their morning classes—or they’d won the lottery and didn’t have an early AM class. None of them were in the showers that morning though, at least that Beca noticed.

She hummed Titanium quietly to herself as she hung her towel on a peg outside of the shower curtain and tossed her soaps into the shower and set the water on hot before shutting the curtain. As soon as the curtain was closed, it felt like a wall and dropped Beca was free. The words to the song rang out loud and clear through the tiled room as Beca closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the hot water against her chest. She was so absorbed into her own little world that she didn’t notice the jingle of the curtain being opened until a squealed “Oh my god” startled her from her reverie and she flew into the back wall of the shower trying to cover herself up.

“You can sing!” the excited voice shrilled. Beca glanced over her shoulder to see the red head, Chloe, from the activity fair standing behind her—completely nude. Of course, this would happen to Beca. The first time she gets to see a hot girl naked and it’s practically assault. Beca tried to hold her shampoo bottle up to cover her chest as the girl’s eyes started to roam a little bit. She reached out and tried to close the curtain but Chloe just ripped it open again. “How high does your belt go?”

Beca didn’t answer and instead tried too look anywhere but directly at Chloe, which Chloe wasn’t making any easier as she rambled on about the song Beca was singing. Beca was pleasantly surprised to know that Chloe knew who David Ghetta was even though Titanium was playing constantly on the top 40 stations.

Beca snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Chloe say something about her “lady jam” and she scowled at the girl. Said scowl intensified when Chloe asked her to sing it for her and Beca quickly shook her head.

“No, not for that reason,” Chloe said quickly. “Look, I’m not leaving here until you sing so…”

Beca shook her head again, trying to breath deeply and control the anxiety building in her stomach. After waiting for what felt like an hour, only really about thirty seconds, Beca quietly sang the first words of Titanium’s chorus. Her voice getting stronger with each passing beat. She heard Chloe’s voice join in on the harmony and she almost melted a little because it was like really good. And she hadn’t sang with anyone since her mom so it felt kind of special that this random naked girl she’d met once before was able to cause this level of comfort in Beca.

Beca smiled a little as they finished the chorus, and she almost forgot that she was completely naked until Chloe glanced down for just a second. Beca raised her eyes back to the ceiling again and looked away from Chloe.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, laughing at Beca’s shy response. “I’m pretty confident about all this.” She gestured down her body.

“Look,” Chloe said. “I get that you’re this like quiet, mysterious type, but your voice rocks. You should try out for the Bellas. Auditions are Saturday okay?”

Beca nodded, still refusing to look at Chloe even as she handed Beca her towel. This was absolutely crazy. Why in the world would she go to this audition now? Chloe had assaulted her in the shower. Who does that?

And yet, four days later, Beca found herself pushing open the exit door to the backstage of a small auditorium. She felt crazy even being here. She had never been able to sing in front of an audience before, what made her think she could now? She could feel the anxiety pushing adrenalin through her veins and she took a few calming breaths as she approached the stage.

“That was the last audition of the day,” a voice said as Beca peaked her head around the corner to look out at the groups seated in the auditorium. They were fairly easy to tell apart because they all sat separated from each other. Chloe and Aubrey were seated near the front and Aubrey had just begun shuffling a stack of papers together when Chloe caught Beca’s eye and yelled out, “Wait there’s one more.”

Chloe smiled hesitantly at Beca who took another deep breath and walked out onto the stage. She gave small smile and wave to Chloe before sitting down directly in front of the two co-captains. Beca hadn’t known she needed to prepare a song, but she knew one that her mom had taught her that she could easily sing on the fly so long as she could actually get herself to sing. She noticed a cup of pens on the desk in front of her and glanced cautious at Aubrey and reached out of it. After a second Aubrey gave a small, confused nod, and Beca grabbed the cup from the table, gently pouring the pens onto its surface in the process.

Beca sat back down against the stage and sighed heavily. She could do this. She knew she could so long as she just kept herself calm. Her therapist always told her that getting past her block was all about reducing anxiety.

She looked up to see Chloe smiling still at her and she felt her shoulders fall a bit as tension released. There was some impatient shuffling echoing towards the back of the auditorium, but Beca chose to drown it all out in exchange for keeping eye contact with Chloe. Those brilliantly blue eyes kept her focused for so long she didn’t even realize when she’d finished the song—nor did she notice the steel-melting glare Aubrey was directing towards her.

Without a word, Aubrey handed an audition application to Beca to fill out, while Chloe excitedly told Beca that she would hear from them by the end of the day and to be prepared—which Beca found cryptic as fuck.

After Beca had left the auditorium, Chloe turned to her girlfriend happily. “See, I told you we would see her again.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes, unwilling to admit that Chloe was right. Despite her outwardly hostile reaction toward Beca, the girl still intrigued her. After Chloe explained how she’d “stumbled” onto Beca singing in the shower and the girl still wouldn’t talk, Aubrey had pulled out her computer and done two hours worth of research on muteness. Chloe had teased Aubrey that she had a little crush on Beca, but Aubrey had stoically ignored her girlfriend in favor of pouring herself into rehearsal planning for the Bella’s.

“She still doesn’t look the part of a Bella,” Aubrey said not withholding the disdain she felt for Beca’s “alternative” style.

“We can cute her up,” Chloe said smiling. “She’s already tiny so she’s like half way there.”

“Those hideous earrings will have to go,” Aubrey added as she slid a stack of audition forms into her bag.  

“Newsflash Aubrey,” Chloe sighed. “Of all the girls we auditioned today, like two of them would have fit the traditional Bella look. We should be looking for good singers. That’s the part that matters.”

Aubrey sighed. Chloe had a point. And at least with Beca, reducing the girl’s eyeliner was most of the battle to make her look like a Bella. But she didn’t like Beca. She didn’t like the way she looked at Chloe and she didn’t like that Beca wore a perpetual smirk like she thought everything around her was just vaguely amusing.

Later that evening found Beca standing in a dark room with a hood over her head, Chloe’s warning echoing through her head. She could hear Aubrey talking about some oath which sounded completely ridiculous to Beca. Who even cared who slept with who, and where was Aubrey going to get these wolves to rip out their vocal cords if they did sleep with a Treble?

When Aubrey’s cult initiation was finished, Beca found herself being ushered back into the van with the other girls and driven to a spot nearby on campus where a party was already violating noise ordinances.

“Welcome to hood night,” Aubrey said as she set the van into park. She glanced back through the review mirror and caught Beca’s eye. Her facial expression was entirely neutral which made Beca uncomfortable. She could already tell the blonde didn’t particularly like her and she had a sinking feeling that it had something to do with the way Beca couldn’t take her eyes off Chloe. It’s not like she meant to do it. Chloe was just the only person in the room that seemed to ground her. Beca knew better than to get attached though so she decided to just avoid Chloe. An idea that Chloe made extremely difficult to follow.

Beca remained off to the side for most of hood night. Acapella people turned out to be a little rowdier than she would have anticipated, and even then, large crowds weren’t Beca’s thing. Chloe had attempted three separate times to get Beca to come down and join the party and each time Beca had shook her head and grimaced. Jesse’s attempts to get her to socialize were just a futile.

He approached her about an hour after she got there, already three shades to the wind, and started talking about their “aca-children.” Beca nearly trip him backwards down the stairs just to get him to shut up, but she smiled to humor him just so that he wouldn’t push the conversation too hard. Of course, he did anyway, and Beca could see Aubrey across the amphitheater glaring at the Treblemaker. Beca found it all highly amusing and decided to play into it a little and smile more at Jesse just to get a rise out of the blonde. She knew she would regret the interaction with Jesse later, but she just didn’t really care right then.

Eventually Jesse got bored of talking and moved back down into the amphitheater to dance with the other aca-people. His retreat was followed quickly by Aubrey’s arrival. The blonde came to stand next to Beca without a word and handed off a red solo cup filled with whatever backwash swill college kids consider beer.

“Parties aren’t your thing,” Aubrey stated after a few moments. Beca shook her head. Never had been and likely never would be.

“Mine either,” Aubrey continued. “But Chloe manages to drag me to a few of them every year.”

Beca watched Aubrey cautiously. She was slightly confused as to why the blonde was even talking to her. Aubrey’s eyes tracked Chloe as she socialized across the party. She never stood in one place to long because there was always someone new to talk to—ever the social butterfly, Chloe couldn’t just leave without meeting everyone.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Aubrey blurted. Beca smiled and laughed a little. She somehow got the feeling that Aubrey wasn’t the type to blurt so Beca’s silence must have really bothered her. “What’s so funny?”

Beca pulled out her phone and gestured for Aubrey to grab hers as well before snatching it from the blonde’s hand and adding her number. She sent herself and then handed the phone back to Aubrey who took the phone cautiously, like Beca had just rigged it to explode.

Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to ask mutes about their emotional trauma? Beca sent back trying to keep a straight face.

“Th-that’s not what I meant?” Aubrey burst, and her face flushed red. “I’m sorry. That was so rude. It’s none of my business.”

Dude chill. I was joking.

Aubrey looked up and saw that Beca was smiling at her, the teasing glint evident in her eye. Aubrey scowled but then smiled slightly at the younger woman. “That was mean.”

You should have seen your face though.

Aubrey smacked her on the back of the arm lightly. “Is-is that normally how you talk to people? Through texting?” Aubrey asked. Beca could tell Aubrey had a lot of questions which made her hesitant to respond. But there was also a voice. And the voice in Beca’s mind was usually right so texted her back.

Only when they’re worth the effort. Beca winked at Aubrey when she looked back up from her phone. Aubrey’s blush returned, but she just hummed in response to Beca. She felt like she had already pushed the younger woman for information more than she should have. They just met after all. Aubrey couldn’t just dump all her questions and curiosities off on her the first time they talked. Aubrey was so distracted by her curiosity that she forgot that not twelve hours ago she was glaring holes through Beca’s skull for staring at Chloe.

Beca relaxed next to Aubrey. It seemed like the blonde wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe a little intense, but she was kind of cute when she was flustered. She could see why Chloe liked her if this is what Aubrey was like one-on-one. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out the two were a couple. Beca could just by the way that Aubrey had reacted to her earlier that day.

Hey. I wanna apologize for earlier today. I didn’t know about you and Chloe. I just… I don’t know. I wouldn’t have been able to do that audition with out her.

Aubrey reread the text a couple times. She and Chloe weren’t exactly out on campus so that Beca had figured them out was surprising.

“You’re observant,” Aubrey said quietly. Beca just nodded her head. It was sort of obvious. When you don’t spend your time talking, you spending it listening and watching. Beca had become some what of an expert on body language.

Your secret is safe with me.

Aubrey hummed. “Chloe has a way with people,” she admitted. “She exudes calm while somehow being the most bubbly person in the room. She was able to talk me down from a panic attack less than an hour after we met.”

Beca blinked at the admission. Sure, Aubrey was intense, but Beca had figured that’s just how she was—not that it was side effect of another problem.

I get it. I haven’t sung in front of another person since I was 11… She wasn’t sure why she was telling Aubrey this. Beca didn’t do friends so why was she telling the blonde her tragic backstory. Usually Beca ran before she ever had to become personal. But if Aubrey was surprised at the admission, she didn’t show it.

“You have a beautiful voice,” Aubrey said. Beca wondered briefly if it hurt for her to admit it. “We’re… lucky to have you on our team.”

Flattery will get you everywhere Posen. Aubrey snorted as she read the text, and Beca couldn’t help but think it was cute. They stood together for another fifteen minutes before Aubrey decided to retrieve Chloe who, in the middle of her drunken dancing, had gotten a little too close to some hedges at the edge of the amphitheater and gotten her hair stuck.

Beca felt like she’d made a valiant attempt at “partying” by this time and decided to walk back to her dorm. Other than the nerd party happening behind her, campus was quiet which Beca appreciated immensely.

The following day was the first Bella’s rehearsal. Beca managed to drag her carcass out of bed in time to get to her philosophy class, but by the time she got to rehearsal she felt completely drained. Aubrey didn’t make it any easier on her either. After drop kicking two of the new freshmen, she pushed them into running laps around the rehearsal space. Exercise had never really bothered Beca, but she was so tired that day that when Chloe finally called rehearsal, Beca just dropped to her knees for a few minutes to recover her breath.

Rehearsals continued much the same way for the rest of the week. The other Bellas pushed back some on the cardio, but after exhibiting a glass-shattering high-G that lasted nearly a minute, which she attributed to their excessive cardio, Aubrey was able to hush a majority of the complaints.

Aubrey was a drill sergeant in rehearsals. She was a cold perfectionist with a failure complex, and Beca found herself growing irritated with the blonde each passing day.  They learned about Aubrey’s blunder the year previous in their second rehearsal, and Beca couldn’t help but sympathize with Aubrey—they had similar problems that manifested in different ways. But what she couldn’t sympathize with was the grueling four-hour rehearsals that left her hoarse and sore at the end of the night. Beca’s voice wasn’t used to this much exercise and she was really beginning to struggle with the rehearsals.

Aubrey finally realized Beca’s struggle when they got to the second week of rehearsals. She felt bad that she hadn’t noticed it sooner, but Beca had never made any complaints. In fact, of all the girls, Beca was the easiest to work with because she never complained, which, Aubrey conceded, was probably unfair to Beca since she didn’t talk.

“Beca, bring your phone” Aubrey called as she waved Beca over at the end of their sixth rehearsal. Chloe watched them curiously. Beca had not sounded her best that day, and she was worried at what Aubrey was about to do. But instead, what happened left Chloe utterly dumbfounded.

Beca walked over to Aubrey with her head hung slightly, fully expecting to get laid into. Aubrey put two fingers under Beca’s chin to lift her gaze from the floor. “How is your throat?” she asked softly. Beca’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “What? I care,” Aubrey laughed at the astonishment on Beca’s face.

Beca pulled out her cell phone and tapped out a response that Chloe couldn’t see from across the rehearsal space.

“I figured as much,” Aubrey said, nodding at what she read on her phone. Aubrey turned around and ran to her bag a few feet behind her and pulled out a grocery bag. Chloe had wondered what that was earlier today. Aubrey had left it sitting on their kitchen table and Chloe had looked through it just out of curiosity. It contained some pretty typical sore throat remedies—stuff like honey, tea, and lozenges. Aubrey handed the bag straight to Beca. “These should help some. Do you have a humidifier?”

Beca shook her head while Chloe looked on like Aubrey had just picked Beca up off the ground and piledrove her into the concreate. Beca discretely smirked in Chloe’s direction before returning her attention to Aubrey who was talking about the benefits of sleeping with a humidifier.

“I have one from when Chloe had strep throat last year if you want to borrow it?” Aubrey finished. She watched Beca tap out a response and then read her phone. “Okay, I’ll drop it by later tonight. What’s your dorm number?”

Beca sent Aubrey a quick response which caused the blonde to laugh, “You wish, Mitchell.”

The laugh from Aubrey made Beca smile which made Chloe smile as well. They rarely saw a genuine smile come from Beca. It was beautiful—blindingly so to Aubrey who froze when she felt her heart skip a beat. Chloe didn’t miss that reaction, and she frowned slightly.

“So those were for Beca?” Chloe asked when she’d finally left the gymnasium. Aubrey looked a little like a deer in the headlights at being caught.

“Yes,” Aubrey said. “I realized last night that a four-hour rehearsal was more vocal activity than Beca has had in a month. I wanted to be prepared in the event that it became too much for her. Which it did. You heard how her voice cracked today.”

Chloe’s heart softened at the kindness her girlfriend was showing the younger Bella. “Who would have thought, Aubrey Posen, certified softy,” Chloe tried to joke, though the smile didn’t quite seem real to Aubrey. She could see the fear in Chloe’s eyes, and she immediately felt terrible.

“Chloe,” Aubrey said walking over to where her girlfriend stood ready to leave. She reached hand up and brushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail during rehearsals. “You know I love you right?”

Chloe nodded and smiled. Of course, she knew Aubrey loved her. “It never hurts to hear you say it,” she whispered and leaned her cheek into the hand that now rested there. Aubrey pressed a sweet kiss against Chloe’s lips and Chloe said a quiet “I love you too” before they pulled apart and left for the night.

Whatever was happening between Aubrey and Beca weighed heavily in Chloe’s mind though. She didn’t even know they had each other’s phone numbers let alone that Beca had active conversations with her girlfriend. She felt sort of left out actually. Chloe was normally the one who made friends first, not Aubrey.

After a few more days, Aubrey could sense the growing fear in Chloe as she spent more of her attention on Beca. It wasn’t on purpose, but Aubrey couldn’t help the feeling of protectiveness she developed for the small Bella. She felt a kinship with Beca over their issues with anxiety, and it was nothing against Chloe, but Aubrey was sure that Chloe had never felt that level of internal conflict. Or, at least, Chloe had never been debilitated by it. And it felt so good to finally have someone in her life that understood it, even if she and Beca never talked about it.

Aubrey didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until she received a text from Beca about “needing her” and Chloe had nearly collapsed into tears when she read it off the blonde’s home screen. Aubrey had spent the next hour reassuring her distraught girlfriend of how much she loved her and that her and Beca were just friends. Obviously, there was more they needed to talk about, but even Chloe knew that for Beca to have texted Aubrey for help, it must have been important. Important enough that Chloe tagged along out of fear for the younger Bella. While Beca hadn’t necessarily opened up to Chloe the way she had with Aubrey, Chloe had still managed to climb her way past a couple of Beca’s walls. The constant physical affection had worn her down embarrassingly quick. But Beca tried not to read too much into it because Chloe was just like that. She was affectionate with everyone. It didn’t stop the butterflies though.

Chloe and Aubrey arrived at Beca’s dorm about an hour and a half after getting her text. Aubrey felt bad that they didn’t leave sooner, but Chloe had needed that time from Aubrey, and as her girlfriend, Chloe was priority number one.

Aubrey knocked on Beca’s door and called out her name. It opened little more than a second later, and Aubrey’s arms were full of a trembling Beca.

“Beca?” Aubrey asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

There was no response from Beca. She wasn’t going to release Aubrey even if her life depended on it. Beca had been having an extremely hard day. It was the anniversary of her mother’s death and she was having a hard time dealing. She’d done her best during rehearsal that evening to hold herself together, but the minute she was alone in her dorm room, it had all come crashing down on her. The loneliness, the doubt, the anxiety. It all hit with the force of a semi-truck.

Aubrey, sensing that it would be some time before Beca calmed enough to be responsive, walked the girl backwards until they could close her dorm room door, and then lifted the girl up onto her bed and climbed up beside her. She curled into Aubrey’s side like she was trying to disappear. Chloe was watching it all with pain in her eyes, but she realized it was the pain of jealousy. It was pain caused by seeing someone you care about in pain. The realization caused something to click in Chloe and she understood Aubrey’s concern for the girl. Even if there were feelings involved, being there for Beca was about just that—being there for a girl who didn’t really have anyone else.

Chloe hopped up onto the bed next to Beca and scooted as close as she could get before dropping a kiss onto Beca’s shoulder. They sat like that for half an hour before Beca stopped shaking and her breath evened out. Aubrey thought she must have fallen asleep until Beca sat up and jumped down off the bed to grab her phone. She tapped out a quick message and both Chloe and Aubrey pulled their phones out when they heard separate dings.

I guess I owe you guys an explanation huh? Beca couldn’t even look at them. She was staring at the floor.

“Sweetheart, you don’t owe us anything,” Chloe was the first to talk. “If you’re upset, we’ll be here for you, no strings attached, no explanations required.”

Beca went to respond, but Aubrey leaned forward and put her hand over the screen after sensing the response she was about to get from Beca. “She’s right, Becs,” Aubrey said. “You don’t owe us anything. We are here because we both care about you—so much,” she added. Aubrey linked eyes with Chloe and at that moment all the confusion they had regarding Beca cleared away, and Aubrey knew they had an understanding about the role Beca held in their life. They would need to talk about it soon, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered right now was making sure that Beca was okay.

“But,” Aubrey continued. “If you want to talk about it, we will listen.”

Beca watched the two girls in front of her. They were having a silent conversation, and something happened between them because Beca watched the clarity that swept across Chloe’s face. It almost felt like the sunshine coming out after rain, and Beca had realized how closed off Chloe had become recently around her. Beca hesitantly reached out and grabbed Chloe’s hand to squeeze it for assurance. Surprised, Chloe met Beca’s eyes then glanced down at their joined hands. Beca had never initiated before. Beca turned her eyes to Aubrey’s and took a deep breath trying to quell the storm in her stomach. It was almost like Chloe was lending her strength, because Beca could feel her voice, ready and pushing to be free. Feeling compelled to speak was a strange feeling for Beca, one she hadn’t felt since her mother was alive.

Beca swallowed heavily. “M-my mom d-died t-today,” she stuttered and pushed her gaze to the floor feeling a blush creep up her neck. Aubrey felt like the wind was knocked out of her at the sound of Beca’s voice. Chloe, still holding Beca’s hand, pulled the girl into a crushing hug and sighed into her shoulder. She didn’t know what to say to the younger woman. She didn’t feel like it really mattered what she would say anyway. It’s not like she knew what Beca was going through. She was so overjoyed at hearing Beca speak that anything she managed to say would probably be inappropriate anyway.

Aubrey made eye contact with Beca over Chloe’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. “For telling us. I know how hard it must have been to share with us.”

Beca knew she wasn’t just talking about her mother, but she just nodded. The compulsion she felt to speak had waned after her utterance, and now she was left to speak silently again.

“Chloe,” Aubrey said sternly. When she didn’t get a response, she tapped her girlfriend on her head. “Let go of the poor girl, she probably needs to breathe.”

With a quiet laugh, Chloe released Beca and leaned back. There were tears in her eyes and she wiped at them quickly. “Sorry.” She smiled. “I’m a crier.”

“Somehow, I don’t think she’s surprised,” Aubrey said smiling at Beca who shook her head and tentatively returned the smile.

“Are you okay?” Aubrey asked watching the maelstrom of emotions that was swirling behind Beca’s eyes.

I think so. The response popped up on Aubrey and Chloe’s phones.

“Do you want us to stay?” Chloe asked. She could see the hesitation in Beca’s eyes. “We would like to stay anyway. We would be too worried to go home now…”

The admission seemed to surprise Beca, but she didn’t question it after seeing the sincerity in Chloe’s eyes and the barely-there nod from Aubrey.

Beca grabbed her laptop and shuffled back onto the bed. She tried to sit beside Chloe to avoid being between the couple, but Chloe promptly pulled Beca over her lap and back between her and Aubrey. Beca flushed a little bit, but didn’t argue. She opened the laptop and pulled up her Netflix account before typing into a note on the side of the screen asking what they wanted to watch. They spent the night huddled together on the twin-sized bed watching some reality tv show that Aubrey and Chloe insisted that Beca needed to see. At around midnight, both girls noticed that Beca seemed to have passed out between them, leaning heavily against Chloe, leaving them to stew in their thoughts together.

“What do you think this means?” Chloe was the first to break the silence. Aubrey just looked at her waiting for her to continue. “I mean, she spoke today Bree! That’s got to mean something right?”

“I think she trusts us,” Aubrey said quietly as she examined Beca’s face. The brunette was peaceful right now. There were no worry lines or smirks, she was just relaxed. Chloe nodded, another question on the tip of her tongue.

“What does this mean for us?” Chloe’s eyes avoided Aubrey’s, instead choosing to exam one of Kimmy Jin’s posters on the far wall. When Aubrey didn’t answer, she returned her gaze to the blonde and raised an eyebrow. Aubrey’s face was soft as she looked at Beca. Chloe could clearly see the love in her eyes, but this time she didn’t feel jealous.

“It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want it to,” Aubrey said locking her gaze onto Chloe’s.

Chloe sighed. That didn’t really help her figure out what was going on. “You’re going to fall in love with her, Bree.”

“I already love you,” she said without missing a beat. “What about you? I’ve seen how you look at her Chlo. You get all gooey, just like you do with me.”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. She passed a hand through Beca’s hair, and the girl hummed in her sleep causing both women to smile. They met eyes over her head and Chloe nodded. “I guess yeah, I could see myself falling for her. But she doesn’t need me the way she needs you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Aubrey said gesturing to Beca’s hand which had fisted Chloe’s t-shirt. In fact, Beca was only a limb movement or two away from full on koala hugging Chloe, and it made Aubrey laugh.

“So, what do we do?” Chloe asked as she laid her hand over Beca’s on her stomach. “I love you Aubrey. Nothing, no one, is ever going to change that. I’ve always planned on marrying you and spending the rest of our lives together.”

Aubrey smiled and leaned over Beca to press a kiss to Chloe’s forehead. “Nothing is going to change that,” Aubrey agreed.

“Are we willing to go for it then?” Chloe asked.

“Maybe we should clarify what you mean by go for it first?” Aubrey said, ever the thinker.

“Like, do we tell Beca that we’re sorta falling in love with her?” Chloe clarified.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” Aubrey said. Her eyes were cast down and her shoulders sank as she said it. “Every time you looked at me like I was betraying you for Beca, killed me a little. I never meant to. I just have this feeling,” Aubrey said and paused. “It’s like—”

“You want to protect her,” Chloe finished. “You care about her Aubrey. It’s okay. I care about her too… I think we should just do it.”

Aubrey looked at her, not quite sure if Chloe was serious.

“I don’t want to live my life wondering Bree,” Chloe said. “If this could be something, I want to know it. And then, if it doesn’t work, we will still have each other.”

Aubrey nodded. “Okay..”

“Really?” Chloe’s face broke out into a grin and she had to keep from squealing quietly, afraid of waking the sleeping Bella. Aubrey nodded again with a smile. Chloe’s own was infectious.

The two women did their best to readjust themselves so that they all could sleep laying down on Beca’s single bed. At this point, there was no way they were leaving the younger woman alone—not that Beca would let them. The second Chloe had tried to move, Beca’s other hand caught her shirt in an equally tight grip. It was honestly the cutest thing either of them had ever seen. But it made things a little more difficult for Chloe to lay down. She took it in stride though. Eventually she was able to maneuver herself and Beca around so that she could lay straight back pull Beca onto her chest leaving enough room for Aubrey to sleep beside them. Neither of them even thought to wonder where Beca’s roommate was.

The next morning Beca woke sweating from the amount of heat surrounding her. She tried to sit up only to be caught by an arm pulling her back down. Aubrey it seemed had pulled Beca off of Chloe in her sleep and now the three were spooning with Beca in the middle. Aubrey mumbled something about it being too early and Beca glanced behind her to see that her alarm clock read 9AM.

She groaned. Her dad was going to kill her for missing class again, but the thought was soon forgotten when Aubrey pulled Beca even tighter against her and laid a sleepy kiss on her forehead. Beca blushed brightly and was thankful that neither girl was awake to witness her struggle.

After a couple more minutes of trying to escape Aubrey’s grasp, Beca gave up and settled in to wait until the girls work up. Chloe was the first one to stir about twenty minutes later. She turned in her sleep to see Beca pouting slightly at her and she had to keep from laughing at her.

“Aubrey has a death grip in the morning,” Chloe whispered. Beca rolled her eyes like that was the most obvious thing Chloe had ever said. Aubrey moved slightly in her sleep and Beca’s eyes went wide as she glanced down slightly. This time Chloe really did laugh. Aubrey had managed to slip her hand under Beca’s shirt and was resting against her stomach, just over her belly button.

“Alright Aubrey,” Chloe finally said, full volume. “Time to let poor Beca go. You’re going to give her an aneurism if you keep this up.”

Aubrey’s mouth formed a smile as she opened her eyes. She’d been awake most of the last ten or so minutes having woken during Beca’s last attempt to get away. “Sorry,” she whispered. Beca shot her a glare. Aubrey wasn’t sorry at all and grinned.

Aubrey released Beca, despite wanting to lay there forever, and sat up to run her hands through her hair. Beca jumped around Aubrey and off of the bed. She grabbed her phone before stumbling out of the room. Chloe raised her eyebrows after Beca, but turned her attention to her phone when she heard it ping.

Had to pee.

Chloe laughed. “She’ll be right back.”

“Remind me not to sleep in jeans again,” Aubrey said as she slid off the bed. Lines dented the skin across her stomach and she rubbed them with a frown.

A minute or so later Beca stepped back into the room with a small smile on her face. She scratched the back of her head before looking up at the two women who had spent the night in her bed.

Sorry you guys had to sleep on my tiny bed.

“No problem, Becs,” Chloe said practically bouncing on the mattress. “We wanted to be here.”

“Actually,” Aubrey said, eyeing Chloe on the bed and the way Beca seemed particularly fascinated with the floor. “We kind of want to talk to you.”

Terror flashed across Beca’s face and she started to type a message onto her phone. Aubrey let her finish and glanced at it before facing Beca.

“It’s nothing bad,” Aubrey said and reached out to grab her hand. “I promise. In fact, hopefully, it’ll be something pretty great.”

Beca raised an eyebrow first at Aubrey and then to Chloe, hoping she would explain.

“It’s good,” Chloe said reaching out to grab Beca’s hands from Aubrey’s. Beca nodded slowly, allowing Chloe to pull her up onto the bed. Aubrey grabbed her desk chair and pushed in front of Beca before taking a seat.

Aubrey cleared her throat and clasped her hands in front of herself. “Chloe and I,” she said glancing over to her girlfriend. “Realized something yesterday, or last night rather. We know this may seem like a shock, but you’ve come to mean a lot to us in the last three weeks.”

“Like a lot, a lot,” Chloe added. Aubrey smirked because she knew the redhead was trying so hard to keep herself from bouncing next to Beca. Then she nodded and returned to Beca’s gaze.

“You know we’re together,” Aubrey stated and Beca nodded her head. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re pretty much the only person who does know,” Aubrey added. “And we were wondering how you feel about us?” Each word Aubrey spoke was long and drawn out and Chloe almost felt the need to smack the back of her head to shake the words out.

Beca tilted her head back with a sigh. She hoped they would never bring this up. She was embarrassed. She shouldn’t have feelings for one woman in a relationship, let alone two.

“Becs, just be honest with us,” Chloe said tipping Beca’s head down to meet her eyes. After a second of eye contact with Chloe, Beca reached for her phone and typed out a haste message.

I’m sorry. I never meant to feel anything for either of you. I mean, I barely know you. What kind of crazy person falls for two women in a relationship with each other?

Aubrey quirked her lips as she read the message. This could work. They had a chance. “Beca,” Aubrey said. “We don’t want you to feel guilty about anything. We wanted to know because we genuinely care about you.”

“Like, care, about you,” Chloe tried to clarify, but only succeeded in making Beca more confused.

“What she means to say,” Aubrey said after sending a sharp look Chloe’s way. “Is that we both have feelings for you—romantic feelings.”

Beca let out a heavy breath and her eyes widened as she looked at Aubrey. She wasn’t serious right? Like, that wasn’t a thing—that couldn’t be a thing could it? She breathed deeply trying to calm her over-excited heart. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears and she almost felt a little faint, but then Aubrey was there in front of her holding Beca’s hand to her chest and she felt her breaths slowing down. She gave an apologetic grimace to Aubrey as she pulled away.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Aubrey said. “We did kind of just spring this on you with no warning. We’ve had a little time to get used to the idea.”

What does it even mean if you BOTH have feelings for me? Beca typed.

“Well,” Chloe said, taking the lead and speaking a little clearer this time. “We were hoping you might like to try dating us.”

“Both of us,” Aubrey added point between them. “But we would still be dating each other as well.”

Like a three-way.

Chloe smirked and opened her mouth to say what Aubrey anticipated as a lewd comment so jumped in ahead of her.

“Yes,” she explained. “We would all be dating each other. We would make up ground rules and communicate to make sure that no one feels left out or jealous, of course.”

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Aubrey continued. “If you need time to think about it, we understand.”

Beca nodded her head. I don’t think I need time.

“Oh…” Aubrey said. Disappointment marred her facial expression as she assumed the worst.

Ask me again.

“What?” Aubrey said, staring at her phone. 

Ask me again. She repeated. 

“Beca,” Chloe said hopefully, catching Beca’s blue eyes with her own. “Will you be ours?”

“Okay,” she said.

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 38 - It’s Not Defamation If It’s True

Author’s Note: Who's ready for Gabriel getting his comeuppance?!?!?!

Settle down children, excitement and righteous fury is no excuse to forget your manners. Now get your snacks and get comfortable.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Gabriel underestimates the power of teenagers who care for their friend.

Edit: Whoops! I didn't check my comments in the doc! Strong language warning! "fucking"

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Marinette knows it’s spring because she wakes up easily. It’s always easier to wake up during spring, and, given her energy, it can be harder to rest.

She suspects Tikki is already up, enjoying the sun on the balcony. At the thought, the girl scrambles to get ready so she can enjoy the weather.

She’s done in record time, grabbing her phone as she joins Tikki.

 Kid Mime: good morning my faithful fair funny fast fancy festive fizzy funky friends

 Melodie: ‘Fizzy’?

 Kid Mime: i ran out of f adjectives

 Felix: You already had seven without that one.

 The Mom Friend: i think you did great

The Mom Friend 10/10 wood read again

 Kid Mime: yay!!

 Patisserie Princess: hiiiiii!!!!!!!

 Kid Mime: wats this????

Kid Mime: mari up??

 Melodie: With time to text too!

 Patisserie Princess: yep

Patisserie Princess: its spring!!!!!

 The Mom Friend: any of ur flowers blooming yet

 Patisserie Princess: not yet

Patisserie Princess: but soon. i can feel it

 Felix: That will certainly be exciting.

 Patisserie Princess: it will be!!!!!!!

Patisserie Princess: (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Patisserie Princess: k im heading out now!!!!!!!

 Kid Mime: byeeeeeeee!!!!!!

 Melodie: See you soon!

“Alright, let’s go, Tikki!” Marinette hops up from her chair, giving Tikki a moment to hide in her purse before hurrying downstairs. She shouts goodbye to her parents as she heads to school.

It’s so sunny, and she’s smiling wide. Today is a good day.

She arrives at school in what must be record time. She spots Allan and Claude walking into the building together and joins them.

“Hi!!!” Marinette chirps.

“Hey, ‘Nette. Good to see you so early,” Allan greets her.

Claude throws their arms in the air. “Marinette! Our sunshine has arrived!!”

“Adrien is our sunshine,” she corrects.

“Hmm.” Claude pretends to think this over. “This is a conundrum.”

“You’re a star,” Allan suggests.

“Yes!! Perfect!”

“You guys are stars too!!” Marinette smiles.

Claude strikes a DramaticPose™. “Well, of course I’m a star!”

Allan and Marinette clap appropriately. A few nearby students join in. Claude bows several times.

“Thank you, thank you!”

Marinette throws a flower at him. “Bravo!”

Claude gasps, clutching the flower to his chest. “The fair maiden has chosen me! I have been awarded a flower from our fair lady!”

Marinette curtsies. “‘Tis no trouble to me, my knight.”

“Shall I escort you and your companion to your court?”

“It would be very kind of you sir, I am expecting company from neighboring kingdoms.”

“Then we shall depart at once!”

With Allan and Marinette snickering, Claude leads the pair to the library where Felix and Allegra are calmly sitting at a table.

“Her royal highness, Our Star has arrived! Her meeting place is quieter than the courtyard, so we shall withhold the fanfare! Trumpets on standby!”

The librarian shoots him a grateful look, and Marinette can hear Allegra and Felix sigh in unison at Claude’s antics. Allegra shuts her book and turns. Allan and Marinette are both struggling to muffle their laughter. Claude has a flower behind his ear and leads the two to the table.

“Greetings fair lady Allegra and lord Felix of kingdoms Coudriet and Voclain! I am delighted to inform you that we have been blessed with the presence of Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng and Monsieur Poirot!”

Allegra and Felix clap quietly.

“So what brought this on?” Felix queries.

“Marinette gave me a flower!” Claude chirps.

“You look great, Claude. Very cute.” Allegra smiles.

“Thanks! I’m gorgeous!” Claude pretends to flip his hair.

“Oh for sure,” Allan agrees. “Model material over here.”

---

The group is on their way out of school when Marinette gets a call. They slow down so she can talk and walk easier.

“Hello?”

They hear shouting on the other end.

“Well, I’m not opposed, but weren’t we-”

The person on the other end interrupts her.

“He is? Well- What do you mean he’s at school?!”

She pauses.

“Since yesterday? Excuse me, but he wasn’t also working?! Ohhh, he’s a dead man,” she growls. “Does he think-?!”

A sharp retort from the other end.

“It was rhetorical, and you didn’t let me finish.” Marinette rolls her eyes.

More talking on the other end, then the call ends.

“‘Just get over here now’” Marinette mimics, then deadpans, “Thanks for the suggestion, I was planning on touring France first.”

“What’s going on?” Claude asks.

Marinette wrinkles her nose, frowning. “That was Chloe, she says we’re doing it now.”

“Like, now? Weren’t we going to like… finalize things?” Allan asks.

“Oh heck yeah! Finally! That man is going down!” Allegra cheers.

“What happened?” Felix frowns.

Claude looks concerned. “Is Adrien okay?”

“No. He’s been crazy sick since yesterday, and Gabriel is making him go about as usual because he’s trying to get as much stuff out as he can to recover from all the backlash recently. We’re stopping by Dupont to bring him to the bakery, then we’re going to call in some favors a little earlier than anticipated.”

“I wish I could punch him. I wish I could punch him multiple times,” Allegra mutters.

---

Marinette leads them up the stairs of Dupont, and though she’s been attending a different school for the majority of the year, everyone there knows to stay out of her way with that look in her eyes.

She’s on the warpath.

At the library, she finds Chloe and Sabrina, with a very tired Adrien who is sleeping on his textbook.

He’s pale, and his face is flushed. He looks shaky and weak, and Marinette’s heart sinks at her kitty in such a state. She goes up to him, crouching beside his chair and running her fingers through his hair.

His eyes open and he squints at her through his half-open lids, his eyes glazed over.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she whispers. “Want to go home?”

He nods, barely with her, and she runs her fingers through his hair a little more. His eyes slip closed again. She can hear her friends talking behind her, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. He’s purring, but it’s very quiet, and if she didn’t know better, she’d pass it off as just weird breathing from being so sick.

Keeping one hand in his hair, she stands and turns to her friends. “We’re taking him home now, then we can start finishing this.”

They nod, and Allan speaks up, “Who can carry him?”

Marinette just picks him up, which they all accept as an answer. She frowns. “He shouldn’t be this light.”

“Fucking Gabriel,” Allegra and Chloe mutter.

As she carries him outside, she sees Nino give her a relieved smile. He and Adrien may not hang out much anymore, but he still cares about the model.

When they arrive in the designer’s room, Marinette places him gently on the chaise, settling a blanket over him and sitting in front of him.

Chloe pulls down the sheet from Marinette’s ceiling. It’s covered in various sticky notes and lists. There’s phone numbers scattered about, with lines connecting them to other places. A checklist occupies the corner, with various things marked off, all are connected to some other part of the organized mess.

It’s impressive it all fits.

“Felix, Chloe, if either of you need to step out to speak with the lawyers, then go ahead. Sabrina-”

The other girl smiles, waving her off. “I’m already looking it over.”

“Great, thank you,” Marinette nods.

“I can call about the apartment,” Allegra volunteers.

“Good idea. Then I guess-”

Claude puts a hand on her shoulder. “Mari, it’s okay. We know what to do, you can just take care of Adrien right now.”

She sighs, smiling gratefully, and nodding, turning to Adrien. She tunes out the rest of the room, eyes only for her partner. She sees worried green eyes peering out from his overshirt, and waves at the Kwami subtly. The God simply nods at her and burrows closer to his Chosen.

Putting a hand to his forehead, she confirms that he definitely has a fever. She heads to the kitchen, finding the thermometer, and grabbing a glass of water in case he wants it.

Her room is a busy center for the various plans going on, as everyone assigns themselves tasks to complete to get as much done as quickly as they can. The noise level still manages to remain low, as everyone is aware of the model resting.

“Hey,” Marinette whispers, brushing Adrien’s hair out of his face. “Can I get your temperature quick?”

He manages a nod.

She frowns at the number displayed. “Definitely a fever.”

Adrien hums.

“I’d offer you water, but you probably just want to go back to sleep, huh?”

He slow blinks at her, and she smiles softly, returning the look and squeezing his hand quickly while he continues to sleep. She turns around, sitting against the chaise again.

Marinette gets out a laptop, typing furiously as she gets to work as well, emailing the journalists that Nadja had mentioned to her.

 Hello! You seem as though you’re a reputable reporter who can help me out! I hate to see people getting away with terrible things, and given the current state of the Agreste brand, this seems like a good time to bring this to light. Attached to this email, you’ll find…

 Greetings! I trust you’ll respect my wish to remain anonymous. I understand you specialize in exposés…

 I have attached some stories to this email that did not receive the attention they should have. I believe that this could be a good time for a journalist such as yourself to bring them back to light, so that this may receive the attention it deserves…

 I’d like to remain anonymous, but I thought you’d be interested…

 The Gabriel brand has a history of covering up less than flattering stories, but…

 The designer emails tens of reporters, all about a variety of things that Gabriel’s lawyers had gone to great lengths to keep from reaching the mainstream media. The stories range from everything to the treatment of their workers to claims of art theft, to suspicious movement of money, and more. She contacted people from all over, bloggers, to journalists to news anchors, and more than a few people outside of Paris and even France.

She emailed people mentioned in articles, encouraging them to speak out again. She went to relevant online forums and anonymously mentioned that now would be a good time for the brand’s darker secrets to come to like, if anyone was so inclined, and linked to several other news outlets that would likely take the stories.

She sent a variety of emails to big names in the fashion world, feigning hesitance to purchase from them, given their closeness to someone like Gabriel, who is currently so negatively viewed.

The best part is that all the things she’d mentioned were already true. She and her friends had spent weeks looking for the stories and the interviews that had been ignored and conveniently ‘lost’.  They were going to find even more, but even if they’re doing this early, internet sleuths will be entirely capable of finding it themselves, which will only lead to further waves.

Marinette was sure to ask for anonymity, or even encourage them to not mention her at all. She used different emails and forms of contact, using different styles of writing and, when contacting someone in a different language, she used different levels of fluency in the language. The people she contacted had little to no connections to each other, and she sent a few emails out on various delays.

Even if people suspected one person had been behind all of these reports coming out at once, they wouldn’t be able to tie it back to her, if they even thought that a group of teenagers could be responsible in the first place. Not that this is defamation.

No, that would imply that all of this is made up - and it’s all very, very true.

Gabriel doesn’t stand a chance.

---

Eventually, the others go home. Marinette had made a call to Nathalie to convince (read: threaten) her into letting Adrien have a sleepover. The woman had the nerve to argue that Adrien ‘is sick and needs to be under proper care’.

As if.

His proper care is never in the hands of Nathalie and Gabriel, no, Marinette is more than willing to take care of him.

He’d slept for most of the day. Even with everyone using her room as a headquarters for both Operation Emancipate Adrien and Operation Gabriel Takedown (it’s just more fun to have names, and it makes it feel a little less sad), he’d been dead to the world. She’s eaten dinner, so now she doesn’t really have much else to do.

Why not email some more people?

She’s in the middle of tracking down an article that could be useful when a hand reaches past her and shuts her laptop.

“Mari. Take a break.”

She turns to see a very tired Adrien awake once more, who is attempting to look reprimanding.

“I don’t need a break! I’m just-”

“Shhhhh.” He puts a finger over her mouth. “Don’t give m’ dumb dad all y’ur energy. Do something fun.”

“I’m not giving him all my energy. I’m just making sure he won’t have anything left to stand on. He’s gotten away with how he’s treated you for too long!” She argues.

“By wasting all your en’rgy on him. You guys have done plenty, don’ worry. Jus’... tell me how your garden’s doin’.”

Her face lights up at the question, and she excitedly describes to him how she has not one, not two, but three new sprouts, and how this plant is already blooming, and how that plant is doing so much better since she figured out that it wasn’t getting as much sun as she thought.

She rambles on and on, and he sinks back against the lounge, watching her happily update him on the state of one of her hobbies.

He loves seeing her smile.

He doesn’t realize he’s purring until she gives him a soft smile, just for him, that warms his heart. She starts scratching his head and continues to inform him about how different bugs are actually beneficial to gardens and different natural ways to keep unwanted bugs off plants without harming the plant or the good bugs.

He just lets her talk. His head still hurts, and he’s most certainly still sick, but this? This is nice.

Marinette notices that Adrien’s kitty kisses are beginning to give way to him struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Sleepy, Kitty?”

He hums.

“I’ll let you sleep.”

He reaches out to her slightly.

“Oh, alright. I guess.”

Feigning annoyance, she moves to sit with him on the chaise, hugging him close as he gets comfortable with the new arrangement. With a giant kitten sleeping and purring next to (and partially on) her, it isn’t long before she drifts off to sleep herself.

---

Author’s Note: So how was that? We'll be seeing it finally come to a close in chapter 40 (It's literally titled emancipation), but that focuses more on Adrien settling in to his new life.

I finished writing the last chapters last night. I'm still in shock I think, just a bit. I'll probably write a goodbye to this fic (because I'm sappy like that), then I can get started on all the events that I didn't write that I've promised to write for you guys. I know I promised Tikki and Plagg's talk after the reveal, as well as at least two or three other things, and, of course, Alya's (and Nino's) apologies to Adrien. I can't remember which events I promised, so please do let me know. (I think I have a few comments of a me listing them, so I may stalk through the comment section).

I know you all want the results to the survey, so you can find those here! (Another reminder that if you're here early, the link won't be there yet and you'll need to refresh the page 💕). I have a survey question that I really like, so after all the chapters I'll give it a one-shot all its own and, yes, it will have a survey that you guys can answer too. The next Dumb Debate will be in chapter 41, in case you were wondering. It's a fun one too.

Another thing to mention now that the story is wrapping up, I've saved scenes that I had to scrap or that went under intense rewrites so for those interested in seeing some deleted scenes, I'll post those the same day as the last chapter (which is an epilogue, and therefore shorter) to give you some extra content then.

Wow, it's weird that we're so close to the end.

Thank you all so much for reading!! Comments and kudos are my lifeblood and I cannot find enough ways to say thank you! Or if you're reading on tumblr, likes and reblogs (or asks, I never really get any) also make my day! Lovely to 'see' you guys and I hope you all have a wonderful day!

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[rightnowyoucanttell]

Lone Star //: G.D

(This imagine is inspired by the song Lone Star by the Front Bottoms, it has got to be my favorite song ever. I dunno this idea came to for some crazy reason. I am not saying this is my opinion or trying to enforce my opinion, I don’t ever post my opinions on social media due to backlash,  on the topic, i’m just simply writing an imagine. )

Y/N and Grayson have been dating for almost two years, when a night of tangled limbs winds you up pregnant, it overwhelms you. Leading a confused and scared Y/N to get an abortion behind Graysons back. Fed up with a nauseous wave of guilt, Y/N tells Grayson. 

Warnings: angst, unwanted pregnancy, mentions of smut,  abortion 

 The morning after you looked at your figure in the mirror. The doctor at the clinic said within the next three days your pregnancy symptoms would vanish or dial down to unnoticeable, you looked forward to that. After telling Grayson, there would likely be no reminders left besides the sonogram, you prepped yourself for him to leave, but deep down you would never be ready. 

  Your hand trailed your neck, where he had kissed longly and tenderly that night of tangled limbs. You traced down your arm where he had caressed you and wrapped his own strong arms around you as the night came to an end. The love mark had faded from present, to nearly gone, a slight purple glare stayed behind, he had done quite the number on you. 

You had told Grayson about your pregnancy, how you were two months pregnant with his child who’s gender wouldn’t have been revealed months later, littand he was a genuinely excited after a while. The pure shock subsided and then he found his will to become a father again, that he clung to so tightly. He wanted to be as good as the man who raised him, he felt he owed him that much. Even if he was only twenty years old, despite that, he would do anything in his power to keep his child/children safe.   

 You on the other hand.. well. 

  You had just watched your bank account run dry, spending four-hundred and thirty seven dollars in an attempt to put things back to the way they used to be. Deep down, you felt wrong, you knew you would regret it, but, in some ways _you would have spent so much more. _That didn’t make it any easier.  You pulled out your phone, sitting in your empty, cold from guilt, Los Angeles apartment and texted your boyfriend, wanting to do the damage and collect your potential losses. You loved Grayson, but, you couldn’t do it. No matter how much you, him or anyone else deep down wanted you to be able mother a child, you werent ready. And that guilt would cling onto you for the rest of your life. 

You: Hey Gray, can you come over? We need to talk about things.. thanks, Y/N 

Grayson: Of course, i’m glad were good now, at least that’s what i’ve collected. Want me to bring lunch? 

Your heart chimed with the chimes of the cell phone alert. He still loved you, you still loved him. Which made this whole situation even harder. You decided to tell him to bring lunch, giving you a potential opportunity to ease your way in. 

 You: Sounds great. How about that Vegan Burger place, it’s on the way i figured i’d save you some gas. 

Grayson: Haha, thanks, I appreciate it. The usual, times two? 😉

You froze when you thought about what he meant. He was so excited to be a dad, to do unto his own children what his father did, guide them on the right path, be there, listen, play. After all, anyone can be a father, but it took a special someone to be a dad. And Gray, he embodied that exactly, you felt guiltier than before. 

You sighed and responded. 

You: haha, yeah sure. Oh, but regular fries, no beer battered fries for me 😉😉 

Grayson: Haha yeah. Love you, see you in twelve, approx. 

You shut your phone off, he wouldn't say anything about no response. From the beginning you told him he walked on eggshells around you. After today, he would never ‘walk around you’ again. He would leave. 

  As Grayson drove, food in car, he thought about how he would tell his mom, Ethan who still didn’t know after the weeks of his knowledge, Cameron. ‘Hey, meet my pregnant girlfriend, future wife,’ Grayson chuckled to himself knowing that sounded ludacris, even in his head. 

  He pulled into the parking garage and headed through the lobby and into the elevator to the top floor where your apartment was. He knocked gently, back to the eggshells thing. 

   “Hey, c’mon in.” you invited grayson inside as the door scrapped across the carpet floor of the apartment. The two floor loft apartment had two bedrooms and one full bath with an amazing kitchen and view, you loved it. The two of you sat at the island counter and pawed through the brown paper bags stained with grease. 

   “I got you two black bean burgers and a large fry, I figured you’d only drink water, so no drinks. Caffeine pull back is in order...” he drifted off as he already saw you pawing through an order of fries shoveling them into your mouth, trying to play along with the pregnancy for as long as possible. You giggled earning a grin, laugh and graysons fingertips on his right hand running up and down your spine as he picked at him own food with his opposite hand. 

Moments of bliss, happiness and baby talk passed, but you knew, it was time to tell him. Time to ruin the happiness and come back to the reality. 

   “That past few months have been rough, we can agree. Several times wished were both dead..” Grayson looked over to you mid bite into his vegetable spinach wrap in a confusion that swept over his facial expression,”I’ve never cried like that before. Nothing seems right, my hair cut how my clothes fit...”

 “Y/N....” he set his wrap down on the paper wrapping and turned to face you on the bar stool. 

“Grayson, I got an abortion.” you spit the truth out faster than you would have like to in hindsight. 

   “Excuse me?” he asked in shoretrievinging his hand from where he was rubbing your tentious shoulders.  

  “I’m sure you heard me, Gray.. I-”

“So, what? Now, what? Where do I go? Why? Why the fuck” a glass went flying off the island pushed by his back hand. 

  “Grayson- stop yelling-” Y/N tried to plead with him as the glass crashed to the floor into hundreds of pieces. 

“You have no right to tell me what to do, this, this is over. I wanted that baby. You could have  left after the birth, god... you ruined any chance of us fixing things. And what? You just played along this.. eating food, food I bought with my money? Using me, again, ain’t that right?” he was furious steaming quite literally. Y/N could feel the heat in his words and his positive now turn cold and negative energy. 

“I’m sorry...” Y/N began to sobb, heavy wet tears that pooled in her eyelids and streamed mascara down her face, her breathing heavy ahiccupinging in her throat 

“Oh don’t fucking tell me your sorry, when your not, Your just sorry you got caught in a situation in which you can’t lie further. Take a bow, you really had me going, the curtains closed.” 

  “Grayson-” you chased after him as he walked away,”Please,... I don’t deserve it, but stay, let’s discuss this as the adults were not. I was scared okay?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? And, oh your ‘sorry’? Well, sorry-sorry doesn’t get me my baby back now does it Y/N. You deserve to be alone, gather your thoughts, and i’ll gather your things and drop them off. Maybe, down the road we can try this again. But for now, the only thing i’m giving you, is the award for the best liar, it goes to you...” he huffed glancing over his shoulder angrily looking at you and around the apartment before slamming the door behind him, knocking your first ultrasound photo off the cork board behind the door. 

   The baby whose life you took, because you were scared. Your apartment so small felt so big, replaying the moment the man you loved left your life because you were selfish. 

{AHH first post, this sucks, but eh it’s okay I guess.

Find my instagram @ brokenvibes_2020, I make video edits, mostly the dolan twins but other fandoms too. } 

[desiree-harding]

Burnout & Brochures

I didn’t edit it because it’s late but here’s a Lucretia oneshot. Just pre-IPRE. I love my girl.

 Lucretia is, in a word, miserable.

She shouldn’t be, really. The suns are shining, the day is warm. The University’s quads are filled with students lounging on the grass: reading, talking, playing music. Someone’s even brought a dog, and is tossing a stick for it to chase with glee.

And it’s days like this Lucretia wishes she wasn’t even at the University at all, which is ridiculous. How many people would kill to have her spot here? How many applications were rejected in favor of hers? The planet’s best Liberal Arts University doesn’t just take anyone. They don’t give just anyone free room and board. They don’t always take eighteen year-olds even. There are people all around the world who would give anything to be where Lucretia is right now.

As if that matters.

As if they would have any idea what they were getting into. Lucretia certainly didn’t. The University was a shining beacon, worlds away and so close, a place where she could put her talents to use. A place to learn. A place where people would perceive her talent, where she could make something of herself. Everyone had believed it. The University advertised that way. Knowledge, the pinnacle of all things, unattainable and mysterious but attainable here. A place where minds like hers would find kindred spirits and be respected.

And Lucretia, so stupidly, had believed it.

Stupid, she chastises herself, storming through a green, not paying any mind to the picnic blankets she steps on. But that’s just the issue isn’t it. She’s not stupid.

She’s entirely too fucking smart, and that’s just the problem, isn’t it?

It sticks in her head as she storms through the door to her dormitory, as she climbs the stairs to her fourth-floor room, her little room, as she jams the key in the lock and slumps against the door, falling back into it and making it shut with a thud that sounds just enough like a slam to alleviate 3% of her tension.

It’s not enough.

She runs her hands through her hair, grips it at the roots and pulls, furrowing her brow and closing her eyes and trying to take deep breaths.

It’s just that she could scream.

Four days. Four straight days of classes that have left her ready to explode. Four straight days of lectures, and seminars that she takes notes for with both hands, the right notebook filled with content, the left a detailed analysis of every shift of energy in the room, every time the stupid fucking professor interrupts one of her classmates and Lucretia sees her shrink back in her chair, every time her comments, her thoughts get attributed to a boy with fake glasses and oily hair. Four straight days of everything she’s said being said again, in slightly different words. Four straight days of hearing “what Lucretia was trying to say…” soft, condescending tones and having to hold back a scream as visceral and powerful as the bang at the start of the universe.

She untangles her hands from her hair. Opens her eyes. Takes off her glasses. She can’t handle having to see right now. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It occurs to her that she’s thirsty.

The problem with it all, she thinks, as she pours a glass of water, starts the kettle for tea, is that she’s too smart. She can’t help but see it when it happens, the little things, none of them egregious enough to be fought over, but the combination of them laying on her like a weight, every day, every hour, pressing her and crushing her to death.

She wonders, momentarily, if she’ll ever get out of this place.

Don’t be ridiculous, she chastises herself, sipping her water, her eyes far away. It’s only one more year. She can make it.

But she’s been here for three weeks and she feels like she’s going to snap at any moment, feels tense like a tightly coiled spring, can feel the energy bubbling under the surface, nowhere to go, nowhere to go, bubbling and bubbling until it bubbles right up into her lungs and throat and chokes her out.

That’s almost good, actually. She should write that down.

She should’ve known, she thinks, as she inscribes the words to paper. She should’ve known that a simple institution wouldn’t change what she’s always known.  She should’ve known that the world doesn’t simply change because you’re inside a more expensive set of walls, because people are almost required to think for fourteen hours a week. She should have known as soon as she started ghost writing at age thirteen, not because she wanted to, but because she couldn’t get published, couldn’t sell under her own name.

Three of the top ten best-selling biographies of the last five years are hers. And she has to repeat everything three times in her Tuesday seminar, because it’s the only way to get herself heard.

The kettle is whistling. Lucretia removes it from the heat.

There’s almost a damage that comes with it. She’s so tired. So terribly, terribly bone-tired, and not because she doesn’t sleep. Not because she stays up late into the night, transcribing facts from the lives of the “great men” of the modern day. No, it’s the pent-up energy that sticks with her day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, the continuous frustration, the inability to escape it. The way she always thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she continues on the path she’s on now, if she picks and chooses right, it won’t ever happen again.

And then the fact that it always does.

The fact that she has to refer to it as it in her head, that even the word is so dirty to her, opens so many doors that she’s afraid of opening, that she can’t even acknowledge it for what it is.

The utter hopelessness of it all is what gets to her. The fact that there’s nowhere to turn. That she’s not even sure if she should be upset about it, that she feels crazy, that she’s tying herself up in knots over what might be a human behavior, and what if it’s not… what if it’s nothing, and it’s all in her head. What if the way her professors act is indiscriminate, and Lucretia only notices a difference because she’s fabricating it for the sake of making herself feel special.

The tea water isn’t hot anymore, so distracted she’s been. Lucretia sighs and sets the kettle back down. She flops onto her bed, buries her face in the pillows. Resists, again, the urge to scream, because she hates the way her throat feels when she’s done.

She wishes, deeply, fervently, that she really was stupid. Or naïve. Or just ignorant, even being ignorant, though not perfect, might do. Or more ignorant than she is now.

That last thought sparks a tiny little rage in her. That she can’t even manage true arrogance, so beaten down is she by this fucking… this way people treat her. That even on her own, unobserved, she feels the need to temper her knowledge of herself with humility. That she can’t even indulge in a little vindictive self-importance. That she has to make excuses, has to cover her ass, even here, in her own head, where there’s no one to tell her she’s wrong.

She feels her throat tighten up and gods how she wants to cry. How long has it been since she did? She can’t remember. She feels vaguely, that she’s been on the verge of it for days, weeks, months, years.

Hundreds of people would give an arm and a leg to be where she is now.

And she’s miserable.

She turns over on her bed, lets the sunlight gently diffused in her window pane and some concentrated deep breathing lull her into something almost resembling relaxation. She closes her eyes and doesn’t sleep. She tries to meditate, like she learned two years ago in that one seminar about stress relief, but she doesn’t remember how. She’d been so tired on the day that the moment she closed her eyes she fell asleep, dead to the instructor’s guidance.

A sigh pushes its way out of her lungs, and she blinks away the tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

She turns her head.

A flash of red in her periphery catches her attention.

Her brain works sluggishly after episodes like these (if it can ever be said that Lucretia’s brain is sluggish in any capacity) but still, it only takes her a few seconds to identify the flyer from the IPRE.

She doesn’t want to get out of bed. Her bag is close. She hangs off the side like an oozing slime, and her fingertips can just pluck the flyer from the bag.

(She almost falls out of bed trying to pull herself back up).

But the IPRE is planning an Exploration mission. She remembers her department head mentioning it in the hall, remembers the look he gave her when she snagged the flyer. It’s not like there’s anything about it up Lucretia’s alley, but she’s a curious woman. Some light reading to take her mind off things might be good.

The plans for the ship are ambitious. Lucretia didn’t know that the capability to hop to other planes even existed. There’s not much of that at the University; there’s a reason why the IPRE is its own Institution. But still. It’s interesting. The flyer looks to be a recruitment notice, which half seems strange to her, because she would think that the Institute would pull from its own ranks, but she skims the positions anyway. Arcanists, mostly, which feels typical. Something about a cleric, an interesting choice, a bodyguard, a chronicler, a –

A chronicler.

Lucretia sits up in bed, ram-rod straight, as her eyes flick over the entry for a chronicler again, and a third time, and a fourth –

The flyer ends up crushed in her hand.

A chronicler. The IPRE needs a chronicler. For a mission to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, and then beyond that. To the far reaches of the planar system.

A chronicler. The only one on the ship. One position offered. On a groundbreaking mission. One chronicler out of a crew of planar scientists, spacy types (literally) who might know the ins and outs of the fabric of the universe, but who probably know fuck-all about chronicling.

And Lucretia’s too smart for her own good, and ambidextrous, and three of the top ten best-selling biographies of the last five years are hers.

Briefly, one little corner of her brain wonders what the girl who sits across from her in her Tuesday seminar is going to do when Lucretia’s gone, and she has no one to level her exasperated looks at the professor explains what she was “trying to say,” and gets it wrong.

The rest of her brain is already drafting her application essay.