#i haven’t danced— let alone partner danced— in over 2 years now so I can only hope I can still lead okay 😭

[ifimayhaveaword]

Oh right, hey Ali 🐋 okay okay I headcanonthat you have little boxes or containers that you save letters and trinkets and pretty things in, if not carefully loved piles of them. I think you're a good lead, when you dance with someone learning, I think you sing what you're doing or thinking or feeling sometimes.

- elle

Wait wh— Elle!! I am supposed to be hc-ing you!!! But also @ohheyitsokay how did you know I’m prone to singing out my actions, especially when I goof up 🤡 (also are you secretly my government-assigned FBI agent?? How else would you know about my box of letters & postcards, old tea tins and teacups holding jewelry and hair baubles and knickknacks—?? Elle you are eerily good at this or else I’m transparent as wet silk)

Similar to Dia, I know you, but do not know nearly enough about you so here goes—

You ABSOLUTELY do the thumb-rub if you’re holding someone’s hand. Don’t try to convince me you don’t, I can feel this one in my bones.

Similarly, you’re good at judging whether people want to make eye contact— I feel like you prefer it; you want the person you’re with to know you’re paying attention to them, that you’re listening and they’re important, but you also know it can make some people uncomf so you’ll take their cues. It’s one of the many things you do that people might not notice, but adds to the air of comfort you exude.

Also I know for a fact that you’re an angel in disguise 😌

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.). 

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.) 

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy. 

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

[chudleycanonficfest]

Stars in the Night Sky

Day 3, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Stars in the Night Sky

Author: adenei

Pairing: Jily (James Potter x Lily Evans)

Prompt: Stargazing

Rating: PG

TW: None :)

****************

The castle is peaceful as it nears midnight, a calm surrender to the usual bustling halls during the day. Rounds ended over an hour ago, but the quick pair of footsteps was not rushing through a late shift, they were on their way to the Astronomy Tower to meet their partner and begin Professor Sinistra’s constellation project. 

Allocation of the work was all in the luck of the draw. Where one half of the class drew a name, and the other pulled the astronomical phenomenon they were to study. Lily Evans had pulled the piece of parchment on stars and constellations, and according to the project’s outline, she and her partner would be tracking Orion, Cassiopeia, Gemini, and Canis Major for the next two weeks.

The project left Lily questioning why she chose to pursue the subject after passing her O.W.L.s. Maybe it was because she has always been fascinated by the subject, or maybe it’s for the sole fact that Astronomy is one of the subjects she can discuss with her family since it relates closely to muggle sciences. Regardless, she’s not sure it’s worth the lack of sleep she’s about to endure over the next few weeks.

As Lily climbs the steps of the Astronomy Tower, her heart thunders in her chest with anticipation about who her partner will be. The class is small, with only ten students, but she didn’t bother to hang around and discuss ‘who had who��� at the end of class. She had a meeting with Professor McGonagall about her Head Girl duties and couldn’t be bothered to worry about who her partner was. 

But now, after finding out through Mary that she’s been paired with Remus and Sirius pulled Benjy Fenwick’s name, Lily is nervous. Rumblings at dinner also confirmed that Calliope Forsythe of Hufflepuff was disappointed that she chose Bridgette Marls’s name instead of James’s, leaving Lily sweating the remaining possible outcomes. She doesn’t want to jinx it by getting her hopes up that James may have pulled her name out of the cauldron, and she’s mad at herself for wanting it so desperately.

We already spend enough time together with our Head duties. Plus, we’re friends now, so we can hang out whenever we like...just not alone.

Her last thought is only a partial lie, considering they’re ‘alone’ when creating schedules for rounds, but it never fails that some fifth or sixth-year students are always barging in to use the Prefect’s lounge to study, ruining any potential chance for either to make a move. Even when they’re on rounds, their conversation is constantly interrupted by catching a couple in a broom closet or empty classroom. 

Lily lets out a huff of frustration as she recalls the last time, when she was sure he was about to ask her to Hogsmeade, but then there was a loud clatter from a room up ahead, breaking the moment. So really, it’d be ideal if James were her partner for this project. She’s sick of the song and dance they’ve been playing since the start of term and wants nothing more than to find out whether he still fancies her or not. After all, it’s only a matter of time that some other girl will swoop in, causing his devilishly handsome smile to be trained on them instead.

As Lily approaches the foot of the stairs leading up to the observation room, she checks her watch. 11:59. Right on time. She holds her breath during the entire stair climb, and only when she rounds the corner to the dimly lit area with one singular candle on the table to take notes, does she see him. He’s leaning over the table, the light illuminating his messy black hair as his glasses slip down his nose. The sleeves on the white shirt of his uniform are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy muscles of his forearm as Lily stands there, getting lost in a daydream that finds those arms wrapped around her body.

The hoot of an owl in the distance snaps her out of her thoughts as she takes a few steps closer.

“I hope you haven’t started without me.” 

Lily’s light chiding gets James’s attention as a wide smirk dons his face. Her insides tremble as her heart pounds faster in her chest.

“How can I get started if I don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking at,” he remarks, eliciting a nervous laugh from her chest.

“Yeah, sorry for not sticking around after class. I had another appointment.”

“Well, I hope my reveal isn’t too much of a shock.”

“Better you than Mulciber or Avery,” she teases. “Why didn’t you ask Professor Sinistra what topic I pulled after you gave your information and got our timetable?”

James walks around the table to join her as she pulls out the project guidelines. She assumes he would have known what they were studying, considering everyone had to check-in and get their schedules from Professor Sinistra. Depending on what the group has chosen, their research times varied.

“Because I thought we were going for the surprise factor,” his cheeky grin matches the lightness in his voice. “Besides, I figured it’d be another excuse to pore over the parchment in close proximity.”

Lily searches the space next to her to see just how close James is before meeting his gaze. She becomes dizzy from the scent of his cologne, with hints of cinnamon and sandalwood invading her sense of smell. If she gives in to temptation now, they won’t accomplish anything on their first night.

Work first, play later.

Strengthening her resolve, Lily makes a swift turn and heads for the telescope. “We’re responsible for tracking the four constellations that are listed on the first page. I’ll see which one I can find first and we’ll go from there. We can take turns tracing, and observing if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, I’ll get the parchment set up,” James agrees.

Lily’s not sure, but she thinks she may have heard a hint of disappointment in his tone. She pushes the thoughts aside and peers into the massive telescope that’s bolted down in the center of the room. It doesn’t take long to find Jupiter, and from there, she’s able to see a handful of the stars that make up Orion. The belt is the most prevalent as she takes mental notes to transfer on the paper.

Settling into a steady hum of working together, the pair take turns between the telescope and table, making light work of the night’s observations. When Lily checks her watch again, she realizes they’ve finished with time to spare. She wanders over to the railing, and even though she’s spent the better part of the last ninety minutes studying the stars, she finds herself looking up to the sky once more. Only this time, she’s stargazing with only the naked eye. 

She feels James approaching before he arrives at her side, gazing up at the twinkling stars among the backdrop of black and midnight blue.

“We make a pretty good team.” Her voice is soft as it carries through the air between them.

Lily’s exhaustion is prevalent as her eyelids become heavier, but she can’t be bothered to move away from James’s side. Not yet, anyways.

“You haven’t gathered that from our flawless round schedules and seamless Prefect meetings we’ve run so far as Heads?”

Lily can’t help the smile that creeps across her lips. He’s playing into her words in the exact way she was hoping for. “Of course, I’ve noticed. I was just thinking out loud…” she trails off, hoping she’s got him hooked and wanting to know what else she’s about to say.

“About what?” Barely a second passes before the question leaves his mouth.

She drags her teeth over her bottom lip as she looks up at him. Here goes nothing.

“Just about how our teamwork might work in other respects, too.”

His lips part as she hears a sharp intake of breath. “Evans,” he warns as he inches ever closer to her face.

“Potter,” she challenges right back.

They are mere centimeters away from each other now, and it’d be so easy to close the gap between them. James seems to have frozen in front of her as she finds herself leaning up on her tiptoes to press a feather-light kiss to his lips. She pulls away, not wanting to push her luck.

When he doesn’t move after she pulls away, her heart sinks. Lily grabs her bag and turns to head back to the common room. Clearly, I was mistaken.

“Sorry, I just thought—” but she never finished her apology.

Her foot grazes the top step of the staircase before a warm, strong hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her back, where she hits a wall of muscle. Her lips are on his again, and this time he’s kissing her back as her arms snake around his shoulders and her foot lifts off the ground of its own accord. 

James Potter is kissing me!

The moment only lasts a few moments before they pull apart, their breathing heavy under the starry night.

James breaks the silence after a minute. “So, er, Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Lily grins as she backs away slightly, leaving him standing there as she heads toward the stairs for the second time. She flashes a ‘come and get me’ look. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[thatgoblin]

Zemo is Your Date to a Wedding Headcannons

(I should be editing my fic, but instead I’m writing headcanons because of 1. My lovely Daniel Bruhl dream and 2. I have a wedding to go to in July and I don’t really want to but if Zemo went with me I’d totes be there.)

While you weren’t bothered by people asking about your relationship status, you really didn’t want to subject yourself to being the one person at your friend’s wedding that didn’t have a partner or kids at your age. You’re not sure if you even want to go because you’re not that close to your friend. You leave the invitation on the table and  don’t think much about it till Sam brings it up and you say you’re not going without a date to have a buffer. Even if it was just a friend, you wanted someone there that knew you now instead of over a decade ago. 

You ask Sam and Bucky, both saying they’re too busy with the boat and they didn’t want to start rumors that you could be dating Captain America or Bucky Barnes. It’s almost time to respond to the invitation, but you decide to just let it go and forget it.

A week later you get a letter saying ‘Thank you for your RSVP!’ and you’re confused because you didn’t send it. You ask Sam and Bucky and they didn’t send it.

That leaves Zemo, who’s been quietly observing the whole situation.

-Firstly, he’d just smile and walk away when you questioned him.

-Secondly, he’d take you shopping for a killer outfit. Be it a suit or a dress, he will not let you pick something less than stuffing. Not to mention the accessories.

-You’re actually excited to go to the wedding now, even though you have made it clear that you’re going as friends. ‘Of course, Schatz.’ 

-The day of, you’re nervous because you haven’t seen some of your friends in a few years due to work. Sure you kept up on skype calls and messaging, but now it’s in person and different. Zemo keeps giving you small touches and hand squeezes to distract you. 

-When the two of you arrive, it’s in a sports car that was not released in your country, which meant Zemo shipped it there specifically for the wedding. 

-Instead of holding hands, you link arms, making it easier to hind your clamy hands from him.

-Everyone is excited to see you. Your friends are happy to see you after so long and of course want to know everything about Zemo. The fact that they would rather hear about him and not yourself is a bit disheartening. You had just wanted to not be alone at the wedding.

-Zemo is ever the observant man and rescues you before it gets to your friends asking about how you’re ‘just friends’. You take your seats and despite trying to hide your hands, he takes it without flinching. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, easing your nerves and making it so easy to lean against him.

-The wedding starts and as much as you love your friend, it was just another wedding. The connection you used to have wasn’t there anymore, but that didn’t mean you weren’t happy for them. 

-At the end when everyone is filing out to go to the reception, there’s photographers taking pictures of everyone for the newly wed couple and somehow you and Zemo end up getting quite a few taken of the pair of you. 

-At the reception, everyone is able to let loose and have fun as food and drink is served and the dance floor is opened up. While you were content to stay in the back at a table to eat and have a glass of wine, Zemo was not.

-It takes a bit of prodding, but he eventually gets you out on the dance floor. That’s when the real fun started.

-The songs were goofy, ones meant to be played at a high school prom in the early 2000′s, but then someone decided to put on a tango. Zemo did not let you run away, instead holding your close as he lead you through the steps. 

-The whole event was supposed to be just friends, but with him pressed against you and your faces so close, it was hard not to swoon. The whole dance floor clears to make room for the two of you suddenly putting on a show.

-The dance is something Gomez and Morticia Addams would have done, spins and dips, a rose suddenly between Zemo’s teeth, even him kissing you from one hand to the other along your arms and shoulders.

-When it ends, you’re both out of breath and the room is cheering for you.

-You’re sure your friend would be upset for stealing their moment, but you don’t really care anymore. 

-The songs change to slow dances, but still Zemo doesn’t let you leave the dance floor. You stay close as his hand goes to your waist as he holds the other, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

-You find yourself actually having fun as you keep dancing, taking small breaks to get a drink or relieve yourself. Zemo reminds you that in Sokovia, weddings would go all night and into the wee hours of the morning. While he may have had the stamina, you weren’t sure if you did or not.

-The dancing at least keeps you from sitting still long enough for someone to question you and Zemo’s relationship. It’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in so long. 

-You make your way to the head table where you greet your friend and their partner, making chit chat and congratulations. You don’t see it, but Zemo slips them an envelope with a check for a wedding present. If you knew how much it had been, you would have tried to stop him. 

-More dancing and drinking, some of it almost ballroom grade and some of it was you trying to teach Zemo Gangnam Style.

-He really enjoys Gangnam Style.

-Near the end of the night, you’re both giggly and happy, bidding the rest of the people that were still there a good bye before leaving. Neither of you are drunk on alcohol, but drunk of happiness. It had been too long for either of you to have let loose.

-Instead of driving to the airport, you get a hotel for the night. You almost protested, but you were too tired to fight it and the though of a comfy bed was too much to say no to.

-When you get to the hotel, you almost expect separate rooms, but Zemo gets one and you’re not that bothered by it. 

-You get to the room to find it’s more of a large studio apartment with an equally large bed. 

-While you should feel tired, Zemo breaks out more wine and turns on the music. In the room you can take your shoes off and continue your own dance party. After all, when was the last time you had more fun?

[dragonseattofu]

NekuShiki question time! #2 :)

Who said "I love you" first? When?

Do they ever go dancing? How does it go?

Who is more affectionate with the other?

First I love you

The person who I envision to say the first “I love you” in the post-NEO world would be Neku. Pre-NEO I would hands down have thought it would be Shiki, because out of the two I feel like Neku’s more of an awkward sort and wouldn’t know how to put romantic feelings into words. But after NEO I feel like Neku became a little better at conveying his feelings and here’s why:

He watched her exit the elevator. She was talking to someone holding a camera bag, possibly the photographer she had just hired a couple of days ago. He remembered their evening meal yesterday, one he had to pry her away from her work to partake in, relating to her upcoming photoshoot. He learned their usual photographer had double booked and she had to scramble to find a replacement. The replacement looked young, around their age, and seemed to be bowing a goodbye to her before walking towards the exit behind him.

Neku continued to watch her, as she pulled out her phone from her Mr. Mew purse. Shiki tapped furiously at the screen, with speed rivaling Nagi, and seconds later he felt a buzz in his pocket.

After tucking her phone back away, Shiki moved toward the turnstiles situated near the door and finally saw him. It took her a second to overcome the surprise, he didn’t tell her that he was coming to pick her up, but she immediately brightened as she walked toward him at a steadfast pace.

How many days, months, years had he waited and hoped for to see a sight like this? To feel like this? Like his chest tightening in anticipation of her being in his arms, his cheeks warming at her smiling at him for simply … existing? How long had he spent thinking about the life he could have had with his friends, with her?

When Neku was dropped into the Shinjuku UG, he went into shock. Why? Why was he back when he was banned from ever playing the game again? He had just gotten his life back. He finally didn’t feel so alone in the vast seas of Shibuya.

But then he got shot … again.

His cynical side thought, maybe this was his retribution. He didn’t deserve friends, not after what he did to him…

But then he remembered them, and what they had all said to him.

“Let me in! Tell me what you're thinking!”

“Give up on yourself, and you give up on the world.”

“You're not my partner anymore man, you're... my friend. So trus' that yo!”

Come on, work with us. A problem shared is a problem halved!

And then he could have sworn he heard her…

“You finally came back to us … I knew you would.”

“I’m so happy you're back, Neku.”

He didn’t remember her saying that to him, but it wasn’t the first time he felt like he saw things that haven’t happened yet, things that could happen if he played his cards right. Visions of a future that gave him some … hope.

Every battle he fought, every new area he stumbled into, every floating thought he passed, all led to this hope that he would get back to his friends.

When he wasn’t fighting to survive, or when Coco was standing watch so he could rest, he thought about them. Was Beat skipping classes still? Was Rhyme learning how to do those ollies Beat was trying to teach her. Was Shiki … was Shiki hanging out with Eri right now? Was she fixing a stitch on Mr. Mew? Did she miss him, the same way he missed her?

His time in the RG after playing three weeks in the reapers game was short, but nothing less than wonderful. Shiki and Neku went on a couple outings together, just the two of them when the Bito siblings had family errands. It started out a little awkward, especially when familiar restaurant and store keepers thought they were an item already. A specific ramen owner was the worst of them all even though his teasing came from a place of fondness for the pair.

Without him realizing, being with Shiki was almost as natural as breathing, and every moment he spent with her was fun, interesting, precious to him.

Neku didn’t get the time he needed to work out how important Shiki was to him before being plunged into the Shinjuku UG, but three years of company to only the disembodied thoughts of lost souls and an occasional “fairy” reaper gave him the opportunity to delve into it. The conclusion he reached gave him the motivation to keep fighting, to keep surviving. For once, he had someone worth living for.

“Earth to Neku?” Shiki waved her hands in front of his face.

He blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Shiki stood on her toes, trying to look at his face underneath his overgrown bangs. He felt her touch his cheek, concern marring her adorable face.

He hates that he brought so much strain to her life. Maybe she could have been happier with someone else, someone who wouldn’t break their promise to go shopping the next day and abruptly disappear.

But then she smiled at him, having noticed that he simply zoned out. And all of a sudden his negativity stopped spiralling and he felt grounded again. He may not feel like he deserved her, but she chose him nonetheless.

She chose to never give up on him, that he would survive the ordeal he was thrust into. She chose to be the best version of herself that she could be while she waited for him.

And then even after all that time had passed, she still chose to be with him.

Neku didn’t know if there was a word that encompassed the overwhelming emotion he felt whenever he thought of Shiki. One certainly felt close enough though.

“Hey Shiki?” He asked, putting his larger hand over her smaller one that lingered on his cheek.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he said that to anyone, if he did at all. Even though Neku had told Shiki almost immediately after his arrival in the RG that he wanted to be more than friends, he hadn’t used that word before. Love was still such a foreign concept that he wasn’t sure he understood it completely, but if there was anyone in the whole world he could associate love with, it would be Shiki.

Shiki’s hand on his face stiffened at the sudden confession. For a hot second, maybe it wasn’t the time or place she expected him to say it. He felt a slight panic from the doubt of her not reciprocating his feelings.

But those thoughts were quickly thrown out when she leaned in and kissed him.

It was a kiss longer than they had ever shared before. She was physically telling him something, but he was a little preoccupied to fully process anything. Shiki pulled away, far quicker than Neku would have liked, carrying the sweetest grin he ever saw on her.

“I love you too, Neku.”

Dancing

Shiki would have this fancy company dinner that she’d have to go to for networking. As friendly as Shiki is, she’s still introverted and the whole event just sounds utterly exhausting. Neku would be her plus one, because even if that’s the last place he would rather be, he’s her partner, and that’s that. She gets well enough along with everyone, but she has to make the rounds and greet everybody, leaving Neku alone at times. Thankfully Eri’s also there, and the girls take turns between networking and keeping Neku company. He surprises both of them when the head designer for Jupes notices Neku’s deep purple button down shirt from Jupes under a Gatto Nero’s half grey plaid - half black solid blazer (it’s visually better in my head than what I just described), and wants to talk to the designer of the jacket. Neku goes full endorsing mode for his girlfriend, and smiles smug when the girls realize they didn’t need to worry about him, much less securing a major deal with a major brand for a collaboration. He’s pretty happy with himself when he hears a version of Someday play on the surround sound. The dance floor opens up, and a couple of people start a waltz.

Neku thinks to himself, it’s an odd thing to have a dance in the middle of a company dinner, but dinners in the fashion industry are often hosted by the most eccentric of people, and he supposes it’s not so peculiar after all.

The melody plays soft and slow, and if he’s honest with himself, it’s a pretty good rendition of one of his favorite songs. He sees Shiki from the corner of his eye, silently asking her to dance as he extends his hand out. She’s surprised at the gesture. Neku’s many things, but dancer’s not one of them. The exaggerated kicks he’s so fond of are sort of hard to move elegantly in. A simple slow dance, he thinks, is enough for him to handle. Her thin finger slipped effortlessly into his hand.

More affectionate

Post-NEO, I feel that both are pretty affectionate toward one another, but in different ways. Shiki’s more physically affectionate, she’s more of a hugger and is always holding his hand, or his clothes, just so she can feel that he’s there. He doesn’t initiate physical touch as often as she does, but he never let’s go, or moves away from it. This happens more naturally as they start dating, snuggles and such.

Neku’s more affectionate verbally. He’s gotten comfortable saying what’s on his mind more often. He’s not shy about complimenting her, she doesn’t need his reassurances but his opinion is important to her nonetheless. He’s a natural flirt; says things that would be considered suave without intention. He would say pick up lines without realizing that they were pick up lines.

Okay, so I’m like not really sure how best to put my thoughts together but here goes:

The Shibuya and Twister kiddos would all be at some fashion function, and the Fret and Beat would comment on how attractive some of the models are. Neku would just be like, “yeah, they are attractive, but they aren’t as beautiful as Shiki.” Him referring to how much he loves her appearance as well as her personality, whereas he knows nothing about these girls so all he is going on is their looks.

And of course Shiki, who has pins in her mouth and is trying to get her models ready, hears this. Her jaw loosens and the pins fall on the floor. She’s essentially flushed and flabbergasted, by what he said and how nonchalant he said it. He looks at her like he said nothing wrong. Then he just smiles at her, and she just stutters out curse words. She doesn’t have time for this.

Notes: I’m so sorry for the late reply. I’m such a slow thinker and writer! But thanks again for the ask! The first prompt sort of snowballed. Hope you like it! @doesitringabell, I added a collection on Ao3 dedicated to you for any/all other prompts that end up longer than I had anticipated. Check out the source content.

Also sorry for any typos and such, let me know if you spot any. If anyone is still interested in my rambling mess of Neshiki fanfics/ficlets, don’t hesitate to send me more asks! It might take a while, but just know that my moments of silence are just me tinkering with ideas (writing something, hating it, revising it, writing again, rinse, repeat, then screw this, just take it.)

[tallyovie-writes]

Pictures of Us | f. w. Part 2

part 1

Summary: all the paintings choose a student to patron, the Lady chooses you and watches as you and Fred Weasley grow in the same direction

Warning:none, might contain little angst, nothing serious

2k words

@sirenswhispers @discoverablefeelings @capture-the-moment-on-camera @sophieswizardswheezes

Sixth year, December

The corridors buzzed with excitement. With only less than two weeks to the Yule Ball boys were running around in desperate need of finding partners while girls were frantic about not being asked. Of course the already paired ones watched the madness spread with a smug smile on their lips.

The Paintings also had the time of their lives, the new puppets on their chessboard gave back a little life to their fading colours. Now they could play matchmaker from an even bigger selection.

The Lady wanted to be proud to say she did not take part in such childish acts, but she had a mission with those two before the second task. It's not like she could do much, but occasionally if she heard a french boy talking about inviting her patron to the dance she faked sadness as she gave the poor boy the news that you were indeed taken.

You weren't indeed taken.

Madness has yet to engulf you, but you weren't calm either. Collita was asked by a bulgarian boy, but you had doubts whether there weren't threats made by her that overpowered the poor boy's common sense.

You would have been fine with the two of you going together, but now that she had a partner, you weren't planning on being the third wheel.

You forced these thoughts out of your mind for now. You had more important things going on.

The Lady's corridor was full of students as usual, so you weren't surprised when you entered the DADA classroom someone almost knocked you off your feet.

"Watch where you are goi.....oh..." you started telling off your attacker, but as you looked up Fred Weasley held eye contact.

Ever since that encounter in the potions storage room things have changed. You haven't really met after that, the two of you gave a wide berth to one another. No funny business, no prank. When you did run into each other, a sudden awareness filled your body. He made no snarky comments, his usual sarcasm nowhere to be found. You didn't bring up the secret of the castle, and he didn't bring up the date. Like an unspoken deal has been made without either of your knowledge. It was awkward at best. You didn't think anyone noticed, there was only bad blood between you before.

He didn't reply, he didn't apologize for running you over. He took a long look at your face, lingering on details only he could see. Without his usual grin, he left the scene as fast as he came, robes flying around him.

"What was that? Has something happened between you two?" seems like someone noticed after all.

"Nothing besides me agreeing to a date, him agreeing to let me in on a secret, and our mutual ghosting. How is your french boy by the way?" you feigned innocence.

Collita's jaw hit the floor.

"I'm joking. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"You know I wouldn't even be surprised. With all the sexual tension you two radiate, I wouldn't put it past you that I could find you in a broom closet with him."

Now it was your turn to let your jaw hit the floor.

"Well then, good to know nothing is going on..."

Boy, if you'd known...

Sixth year, yule ball

It wasn't that bad of an evening. You could say it could have been quite magical. The house elves outdid themselves, even the usual house rivalry crawled back to its gloomy hole.

The icicles lost their naturally given cold arua just like the stone walls' usual grim facade. White dominated, but was quickly swept by the wide range of colourful dress robes, Dumbledore's glittery lilac fabric showing how it's done properly.

It really wasn't your date's fault either that you didn't really enjoy yourself. The poor boy tried everything, but besides polite conversation you weren't capable of anything else.

You were standing alone by the food table, the ravenclaw boy left a while ago to try his luck somewhere else, probably with bigger chances.

You saw Collita bent over from laughter silent tears running down her face, her date was watching her with parted lips in amazement. Eyes big, positive surprise written on his face. Collita did that to people. She was naturally gifted with a charming personality, she drew you in, spoke to you like you were on a pedestal.

She made you feel seen. A secret talent that you were rather jealous of on several occasions.

Suddenly you felt sick of the swirling mesmerized faces, the colours were too vibrant, the music too loud, too many bodies pressed together.

Before the walls started closing around you, you left your previous position and made your way to the exit that led to the gardens. The only sound that was registrateable to your ears were only your own footsteps.

Fresh air cut your rapid breathing shorter. You slowed down, the Great Hall's chokingly sweet smells started to fade away into the night.

"Wouldn't say rushing to the night with only a light silk material covering you was a smart choice, wasn't it? I took you to be a lot smarter than that, love. You're gonna get sick." a soft voice interrupted you.

Fred Weasley stood next to the bushes.

"Well, being sick would mean I wouldn't have to see your ugly face in class, so..." you replied but your voice lacked its usual fierceness. You were too tired.

He chuckled at your reply.

"I don't wanna go back there.." you started in a low voice, barely understandable, but gathered your poise and frowned as you said the last sentence. "They are too happy in there anyway."

"Is that jealousy in your voice?" he found so goodly which strings of you he should pull.

"And what if it is?" you snapped at him.

A ghost of his usual smug grin appeared on his face.

"Get your big nose out of my business by the way!"

"Well love, you know what they say about big nosed guys..." he lazily shrugged, hands in the pockets of his robe.

"Get lost, Weasley, I'm not in the mood today."

Maybe it was the hint of desperation in your voice, or the pathetic look you might have presented, but he stopped picking your brains.

"Come in, Y/S/N, you might even find the bloke of your dreams tonight." Fred tilted his head to the side.

"I'm not interested in 'finding a guy' to be my only goal." you scoffed at his remark.

"Well then, as the only guy you talk to right now, I feel obligated to spare you from the clutches of the cold and sickness, so pretty please get your ass in here."

"I'll stay until I decide it's enough. But thank you for your concern. Bye Fred Weasley, 'find the girl of your dreams' tonight." you rolled your eyes at him.

Little did you know, he already did.

Despite the cold, the Lady felt your frozen heart start melting, even if you haven't realized yet.

Sixth year, few days after the Yule Ball

"I don't understand why you thought it was a good idea to freeze your pretty little ass out there in a low cut silk dress in winter."

You groaned out in frustration.

Collita didn't spare you despite the fact that you were bloody sick, and fuckin hurting everywhere.

"Madam Pomfrey said you won highest fever of the year." she mentioned between stealing a few of your get-well sweets. "At least you finally won something." she winked at you.

"Get out, and let me suffer alone you bimbo!" you hissed at her, but the sharp pains shooting down your neck really destroyed to effect you were trying to achieve.

"Alrighty, my little pathetic friend, I suppose I can leave you to your demise. Be a good and obedient patient." she sent you a kiss and strolled out the Hospital Wing.

**

In the Hospital Wing, after curfew

After Collita left you to suffer on your own Madam Pomfrey gave you a light sleeping tonic. You welcomed the sweet oblivion in the place of pain.

A light noise disturbed the calming darkness. Opening your eyes was a too heavy task, so you relied on your hearing. A soft fumbling could be heard, but the person near your bed executed the deed quite clumsily as the most colourful swearing left their mouth.

Fighting against the tonic's luring effect, you tried opening your eyes. When you did, you almost jerked back in surprise.

Fred Weasley stood there with an innocent smile on his face, like a child caught in a naughty act, his hands were midair frozen on the spot hovering above your stack of sweets.

"What the fuck are you doing in the middle of the night standing near my bed?" you demanded and pulled your blanket further to your neck. "Are you setting up a prank?"

"Have a little faith in me, Y/N...if it were a prank you would only know it before it happened and that's already too late. Can't a bloke visit his sick classmate? The classmate he warned against the cold?" you scoffed at his pointed stare.

"In the middle of the night?"

He started scratching the back of his neck.

"Good point. A point I should probably elaborate on." he didn't seem like someone who wanted to elaborate.

"Don't let me stop you from doing that..." you rolled your eyes at him.

He seemed a little awkward and you could barely hide your amusement. It is not every day a Weasley gets a little intimidated and loses his usual cockiness.

"You see..." he started but his gaze was still fixated on his hands. "...I felt a tad responsible for you catching a cold.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"If it weren't for me dancing on your nerves in the garden making you irritated enough to stay outside longer than intended, you wouldn't be here right now." he sounded a little guilty and you couldn't help the warmth that started spreading in your stomach.

You started to chuckle.

"Weasley. It's alright." you felt a sudden bravery envelop you as you said the next words nonchalantly. "You owe me another secret and we are even."

You waited for his reaction.

He didn't disappoint. He lifted his head, brown eyes locking into your own. Now you weren't sure if it was a wise idea to make him remember your deal back in the potion storage room.

"And here I thought I could bribe you with chocolate that I nicked from the kitchen...you are not a woman easily pleased." he didn't seem that sad about this fact.

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"Right."

Silence fell upon the two of you. Eyes still interlocked, you weren't sure if minutes or hours passed by. The Hospital Wing's darkness faded, and the freckles splattered across his face became more contrasted than before. He tilted his head to the side, his gaze burned your skin.

Suddenly becoming aware of the weirdness of the situation you cleared your throat and looked away.

"Since the tonic made me hungry like a wolf, I'll accept that nicked chocolate." you said, trying to break the silence.

Fred smiled and threw you the bar he fumbled around with before. Your catch was nothing sort of graceful and you felt embarrassment tint your cheeks.

Looking down at the bar in your hand you felt your eyes grow big.

"How did you know this is my favourite?" you asked astonishment, creeping into your voice.

"Lucky guess." he shrugged. You didn't need to know that every time the Grand Hall's tables were filled with this, he couldn't look away from the joy radiating on your face. Just like now.

"Your taste is impeccable, I gotta say."

Oh yes, his taste was indeed impeccable, but not just in chocolate.

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases 006 Pt 6

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: I couldn't find a picture to match Baekhyun's appearance—so I chose one that fits his mood instead  2.0 😅 ♡

[ contains: angst ] Two’s a couple, Three’s a crowd 💔

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)  P(2)

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

My heels click rhythmically on the sidewalk, in perfect sync with the song I’m humming. I’ve taken a liking to listening to new music lately instead of sticking to the same old artists that I’ve heard a thousand times. Trying to expand my horizons and replace sob-inducing ballads with uplifting trap beats.

It’s going okay so far: moving on. Learning how to navigate the world while riding solo. It’s not like I haven’t done it before—sleepless nights aren’t new. Lack of appetite isn’t either. A breakup will never be the end of the world, no matter how excruciating it is. So why should I let it hold me back and define me?

Birds chirp merrily in the trees, bringing a smile to my face, especially when I catch sight of a little hummingbird enjoying nectar from a patch of flowers. If there’s one thing I can say that has helped me during this time, it’s nature. Simply looking out at the world from my apartment window and taking long walks around the more remote parts of this city have calmed my soul more than I can express with words.

I’m watching the squirrels scurry around on the other side of the street while waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sigh, so much for a moment of tranquility.

I pull my phone out of my tiny jean pocket, furrowing my brows at the caller ID. Jongin…? That’s strange, has he ever called me before? I rack my brain for answers. Nope, this is the first time he is calling me. Flashbacks of our distant friendship since that one summer fight I had with a certain someone flashes through my mind... I press my phone to my ear before I can overthink it any longer. "Hello?"

"Riley." Jongin’s smooth voice filters over the line.

"Hi," I mumble, continuing down the street, noticing a beautiful blue and green butterfly flying by with a smile. The pitter patter of a water fountain in the distance has me falling back into my 'Zen’ mode. "What’s up? How are you?"

"I need a favor." He drops; straight to the point. Sending me right into a panic.

My phone nearly falls to the ground. "...You didn’t break a leg or something-"

"No, no," He immediately responds, recognizing the high pitch of hysteria in my voice. "It’s nothing bad."

Thank fuck, the last thing I need right now is bad news. It may be the end of March, but I’m not really feeling this 'Spring’ season. My mood shifts faster than the strong wind. The only stress I try to have nowadays are always work related because if I stop and think about my personal life for a moment I am fucked.

I take a deep breath, leaning my back against a light pole before replying to him. "Okay."

"There’s a dance competition in June," He slowly explains, "and I need a partner."

"Oh..." I blink a few times, straightening back up. "Huh… I’m sorry, I’m not really good at choosing candidates. I’m not a professional-"

"I mean you." He interjects, background music drifting over the line. "I want you to be my partner."

I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment, looking at it in disbelief, "I'm sorry—What?"

"I have a routine already," His voice takes on a warmer tone, pure persuasion dripping from his honeyed words. "With your name all over it."

"...Eh??" I look off to the side, trying in vain to find something—anything to distract me from the tingles zapping down my spine at the sound of his voice. God… what the fuck? "Don’t you have like a million other people who specialize in-"

"I made the choreography for you."

My heart hammers in my chest. "And why the heck would you do that?" I demand, tightening my grip on the phone. Something out of the corner of my eye suddenly captures my attention, dragging my eyes over to it instantly. The sight that greets me has my throat going dry, gulping as my hands shake.

It’s Baekhyun—and he isn’t alone.

He’s accompanied by a tall, beautiful woman, the same height as him in her flat sandals. Her black hair reaches the middle of her back, contrasting against her light blue overalls and swaying softly in the cool wind. They lean against a brick wall next to a cute coffee shop with matching coffee cups in their hands.

Jongin’s words fade into background noise while I watch them. My vision blurs when she laughs, resting her hand on his arm. The way she easily initiates physical contact with him speaks volumes; this isn’t their first meeting. It’s been 2 months since January, and yet...

My heart constricts painfully in my chest, I suck in a deep breath. Lightheadedness hits me full force, I quickly cling onto the pole when my body sways off balance. Shit… I must have been holding my breath. 

"Riley?" Jongin’s muffled voice drifts from my distant phone. Thankfully it fell onto the parking meteor next to me and not on the ground. "Riley!"

Burning a hole into the back of Baekhyun’s silver-haired head, I bring the phone back to my ear. "I’ll do it," I mumble lowly.

"I’m sorry?"

Staring at Baekhyun and his new friend, I make my decision. "I’ll be your partner."

•••

Okay… Maybe I was too hasty in agreeing to this whole dance competition thing. I should have waited to make a decision when I was in a better state of mind.

It’s been a good four weeks since I agreed to be Jongin’s partner—four weeks of pure hell.

If I had known what kind of dance moves were incorporated in this routine I never ever would have agreed. The choreography appears simple and subtle enough on the surface, especially thanks to Jongin’s gifted skills, but that’s the problem. It’s not simple; it’s a fucking ankle breaker. It’s pure well-organized insanity and I don’t know how much more of it that I can take.

"From the top," Jongin’s voice echoes in the dance studio. He presses a remote to start the song over again. I try to stay focused, ignoring the looming figures of the other hostile dancers in the room. Why they all gathered here to watch us practice today, I have no idea, but it isn’t helping me at all.

The bass booming from the stereo speakers vibrates the wood under my feet. Sweat permeates the air. Their predator-like stares break me down from the inside out. The memory of Baekhyun with that woman pops into my mind...

"5, 6, 7-"

Shit!

Gasps echo around the room when it happens: I collapse onto the floor, clutching onto my throbbing ankle.

"Riley?!" Something about the alarm in Jongin’s voice makes me wince, curling in on myself as everyone’s whispers float into the air.

"Oh my god, is she serious...?"

"See what I mean! She has two left feet. Why is he wasting his time on her?"

"Dumbass can’t even do a single number, let alone a simple choreography. The way he chose that over me…"

I try my best to reel in my emotions, to keep the hurt from being seen on my face, but there’s only so much I can bear—there’s only so much I can take.

Tears pelt down my face while their loud gasps and delighted giggles fill the air. I make a move to climb to my feet, ready to bolt out of here and never step foot in this place again when a gentle hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Riley." It’s Jongin, crouching down to meet my eye. "Are you okay?"

I can only shake my head, losing my breath as their taunting voices swirl around my head like a whirlpool, consuming me whole.

"Riley, stay with me." Jongin rests both his hands on my shoulders, directing my eyes to his whenever I look away. "Talk to me. What’s wrong?"

"I-I," I choke, covering my face in my hands before I sob pathetically on the hardwood floor. The throbbing of my backside and ankle only makes it worse.

"Ri-"

"Look at her! Pathetic at it’s finest."

Jongin stiffens, I don’t even need to see him to know that he’s gone rigid. His hand slips off my shoulder as I watch his silhouette rise from the spaces between my fingers, standing to his full height.

"Mind sharing with the class what you just said, Kim Nora?" He looks at the woman in the middle of the 5 dancers leaning against the far wall, his jaw clenching.

"I-"

"If you have something to say, say it."

"I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for years. Years, Jongin!" She snaps, her shrill voice bouncing off of the walls. "I’m on time for every rehearsal. I practice until I bleed. Why does this no-name slut get to come in here and take it from me when she can’t even stand on her own two feet?!"

"Kim Nora." The way he says her name has everyone on edge. My back prickles in fear and secondhand embarrassment. He’s not even directing that stone cold tone at me and I’m hella uncomfortable sitting here.

"Who’s dance studio is this, Nora?"

"Yours-" She looks away, not brave enough to meet his eyes anymore. "-M-Mr. Kim..."

Jongin hums, holding his hands behind his back while pacing up and down the floor. "Who’s name is on the sign out front, everyone?"

"Yours, Mr. Kim." They chime in sync with meek voices. A look of regret painted on every single one of their faces.

"Mine." He concludes, satisfied before turning his dark eyes back onto Nora. "Let me explain something to you, Nora."

Her eyes stay focused on the floor.

"This is my practice, my building." He stops pacing, stretching his arms out to showcase the room. "You are under my roof." He looks dead at her, eyes colder than ice. "You are here because I let you. Do you understand that?"

"Y-yes, sir, but I-"

"Next time," He cuts her off, "You decide to be immature. Next time, you decide that your knowledge is anything close to my expertise." He steps closer, and I’ve never seen a person standing 3 feet away have such an impact on an individual. "Next time, you decide to mock one of my friends." He lowers his voice, and I can feel the heavy promise coming off him in waves. "You are gone. Do you understand me?"

Nora babbles something unintelligible, tears brimming her eyeliner caked eyes.

"Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes!" She sucks in a breath, snot clogging her nose as she directs her eyes back to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He steps away, turning on his heel before rushing back over to me. "Riley," His voice is softer now, much like the Jongin who helped rescue me from my birthday party 2 years ago.

"Hey..." I hush, lowering my hands to my lap.

"Are you okay?" He hands me a clean towel, his brows furrowed in worry. "How’s your ankle?"

"I-It’s fine."

He raises a brow, reaching out a hand to me. "May I?"

"Yeah." I sigh, noticing the familiar look of concern on his face.

Jongin takes my ankle into his hands, handling it carefully and pressing a few places. "Does it hurt?" His frown deepens when I wince. "And here?"

"Yeah," I nod, my face pinched up in pain.

"From 1 to 10," He continues, looking me dead in the eyes, "How much pain are you in?"

My lips part to answer, but I pause, biting the bullet and wiggling my ankle around to see how bad it actually is. "F-four out of ten." I grit out, still so sensitive that tears sting my eyes again.

"It’s sprained." He concludes, gently lowering it back to the floor.

"W-what does that mean?" I ask fearfully. Whatever it means, it doesn’t sound good with the contest 6 weeks away. Shit, why am I such a fuck up? What if I can’t perform let alone learn the choreography in time? I’m such a failure, I-

"It’s not bad," He reassures, resting a comforting hand on my arm. "A few days off of it and you should be good as new."

"R-really?" 

Jongin nods, smiling softly. "Nothing a few days off can’t fix."

"Oh, thank you," I whisper in relief, wrapping my arms around his neck to mask the tears that escape my eyes. "Thank you, thank you."

"No," Jongin shakes his head, hugging me warmly, whispering just as quietly in my ear. "Thank you."

•••

After that day, none of the dancers have bothered me, let alone showed up to any more dance practices. Jongin made sure of that. No one fucked around with him either after the way he resolved the issue. An angry Jongin is a scary Jongin; that much I know now.

Sighing softly, I look up at the fluffy clouds overhead, trying to salvage the calm that washes over me in wake of April’s flourishing weather. The flowers are more alive than ever. Small animals and other critters run around for food on the ground. The world around me is the picture-perfect example of nature at its finest—so why is there an uneasy feeling weighing on my chest?

Work is going well and the book we had spent months and months preparing was released last week. I’m on my way to the nearest bookstore to grab a copy for myself. To check that no grammar related errors got past my keen eyes or because I genuinely enjoy the novel, who knows. I want to see the final product for myself and check out other releases. It’s about time I pick up another book besides the one I stayed up countless nights making sure everything was finalized.

A cute bell chimes when I step through the door, hit with the aroma of fresh coffee. Every time I go to a bookstore or library, it’s like I am stepping into another world. The shelves filled to the brim with hundreds, maybe thousands of literature, all at the touch of your fingertips.

From ebooks to the dusty classics, I love them all. I may not read everything; I might be one of the pickiest readers out there, but I appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears that go into every completed book. Good or bad, the author has big balls for trying and putting their name out there. I have mad respect for that.

Venturing further into the shop, my eyes catch the Fantasy section with ease. I make my way over, already seeing a colorful display set out for the newest releases. The sight of the book I’m looking for brings a smile to my face. It feels different to see it in a store instead of reading the rough drafts in the comfort of my bed. Damn the graphic designers put their foot in the cover; it captures the personalities of the main characters perfectly. I couldn’t be more proud.

My smile widens the closer I get to the display, realizing that there is only one copy left of the book. Deserved; everyone from the author to the marketing team have done their best to make this book a big seller. Thankfully the universe left one just for me.

Just as my fingertips touch the edge of the paperback cover, someone else’s hand brushes against mine.

"Oh! Sorry-"

"Ah, I’m so sor-"

My heart plummets and my head snaps up to look at them at once. Puppy brown eyes that I could identify out of countless others and a million stars stare wide-eyed right back into mine.

Fuck.

"Riley?" He breathes, his handsome face painted in disbelief.

I can only wheeze, my chest throbbing as if my heart will explode.

Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck—

Before he can say another word, before I can crumble in front of his questioning orbs, I turn on my heel and sprint out of there like a bat out of hell.

I’ve been doing better, I’m slowly healing from it all, but the moment I see his face—his sweet, tired, kicked-puppy face, I fold quicker than an umbrella in an incoming hurricane. It hurts worse than the force of an 18-wheeler. My whole world full of its fragile edges and duct tape unravels under the weight.

Normally, I wouldn’t do this.

…

Okay scratch that—I used to do this. All the damn time, but with the way our lives have changed and that one conversation we had back in March 2 years ago I… I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk to him. I’ve made it my mission to avoid Sehun.

I know what he will say the minute I tell him what’s up: I told you so—the bane of my existence. That one phrase alone is enough to keep me from confessing so many things. I rather suffer in silence than hear that sentence, but… This is different.

No matter how much it pains me and paints me in shame, I need to tell my best friend what's been going on. After everything he has done for me since our childhood... I owe him that much. So here I am now.

I chew on my bottom lip and knock firmly on his apartment door, waiting for someone to answer with bated breath.

It opens a few minutes later, revealing his unmistakable tall form as he dries his hair. Sehun does a double take. "Shorty?" He breathes in disbelief, pausing in ruffling his messy black locks.

I laugh a little, warmth sparking in my aching heart from the nickname. "Yeah," I breathe, managing a wobbly smile, already feeling tears prickle my eyes. "That's me."

We stare at each other for a long moment, nothing but the distant swish of driving cars and the muffled conversations happening beyond the open balcony on his floor fills the silence. Ah… My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I shouldn’t have come here. He’s probably busy enough as it is-

As if reading my mind, Sehun’s gaze softens. He throws the towel around his neck before opening his arms. "Come here."

I bury myself in his chest without hesitation, soaking the fabric of his black t-shirt with my tears. "I’m sorry," I croak, holding back sobs.

"Hey, hey," a low, soothing voice chimes in, resting a hand on my arm. "What happened?" 

"I don’t know," Sehun mumbles, rubbing my back as I shake in his arms. "But whoever did it will be missing an arm."

"N-No need, Hun," I sniffle with a shaky sigh, pulling away from his embrace. A chill covers my skin with goosebumps the moment I step away. It’s been like this all week; feeling hot to the touch, yet shaking like a leaf at the same time. I have no idea what is going on, and at this point… I don’t want to know. I can say that for a lot of things.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I turn around, smiling apologetically at the brown-haired man standing in the doorway. "I’m sorry for popping up out of the blue, Lu."

"Nonsense," Luhan shakes his head, his curly hair partially covering his worry-filled eyes. He takes my hand between his, "Come in, I’ll make us some tea."

"Okay," I whisper, shuffling into their apartment. I take the tissue box he offers me, following him into the spacious living room. He goes into the kitchen while I sit down on their couch, my breath hitching from the emotions budding in my chest.

Sehun closes the door, noisily walking on the wooden floor in his flip flops. He sits down next to me, questioning me with his unwavering stare, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. I… I don’t know where to begin; I can’t even find the words. The squeal of the teapot in the other room fills the tense silence between us.

"Alright," He sighs, propping his foot up on the coffee table and resting his arm on his knee before giving me a hard look. "What did Byun do?"

I choke, snapping my eyes to his, "How do you know?"

"You never visit," He points out in the driest of tones. "And when you do, you always call first."

I can only lower my head, pulling my knees to my chest.

"You don’t usually cry after seeing my face either. I mean," He continues, nudging me with his elbow. "Am I ugly or something?"

I snort. "Shut up." Shaking my head, I sigh deeply. "I just… A lot has happened." Risking a peek at him, my shoulders relax at the worried furrow of his brows and the care in his sharp brown eyes.

He nods, smiling the softest that I’ve seen in a long time. "I got time." 

I smile a little, my chest bursting in gratefulness for having a friend like him in my life. No matter what happens or what I get into, I can always count on Sehun to be there.

…

If only I didn’t have so much baggage to bring to his door.

"I…" Come on; I ball my hands into the fabric of my shirt. Say it.

Sehun keeps his eyes on me and I struggle more to get the words out, my chest starting to heave. Should I be here? Should I be doing this? What will he say? What if this just makes everything worse—

No.

Sehun is my best friend. We have shared so many memories together, the good and the bad. I was the first person he came out to. He was there when my father walked out of my life. I cheered him on as he climbed the ranks of his weight training team. He helped me catch fireflies in my backyard when all I could rely on was my poor eyesight.

It’s always been him and I against this cruel world. One man—one boy, won’t change that overnight.

"I broke up with Baekhyun." 

"What?!" Sehun leaps off of the couch. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah..." I drag out, looking him up and down in confusion. Panic hits me in the gut. "W-Why? What’s wrong-"

"Dude!" He exclaims, tangling his hands in his hair, the most comically distressed expression on his normally 'bitch’ face. "I thought he broke up with you."

The thought of what would have happened if Baekhyun had been the one to dump me makes my heart hurt so much I feel the color drain from my face.

"H-Hey," Sehun immediately takes notice, waving his hands around. "Not on the couch, anywhere but the couch-"

Luhan suddenly appears behind him with a tray of drinks, lovingly smacking the back of his head. "Here," He soothes, ignoring Sehun’s pelulant whines while setting down the tray on the coffee table and offering a mug to me.

"Thank you, Lu." I breathe, smiling when the scent of lemon and ginger hits my nose.

Luhan takes the seat on the other side of me, resting a comforting hand on my knee. "We’re here." He nods, sharing a look with Sehun before focusing back on me with the gentlest of eyes. "Whenever you are ready."

Gulping, I curl my fingers around my mug, the warmth of the tea and their soft eyes giving me the strength to open up.

I am finally able to put everything into words… I just hope we all make it out unscathed. 

Closing my eyes, I start from the very beginning, updating them on what has happened since the year we started dating. The summer fight I never told Sehun about, Baekhyun’s ex Haneul following me around. The French lady at the photoshoot, the model behind the scenes. Our fight that reached the public. What went down at the Byun’s house… And finally… how I ran, and never looked back.

Sehun’s facial expressions shift from one extreme to the next throughout my confession. At one point I have to look away from him, stuttering the more I see the disappointment in his eyes. By the end of it, I’m mumbling to the lukewarm mug between my palms rather than them.

My words trail off into silence, nothing but the ticking of Luhan’s treasured grandfather clock making a sound. I’ve grown to hate this the most: the empty space that leaves room for my thoughts to sneak up on me again.

"You were hiding all of this..." Sehun speaks up, betrayal joining the disappointment in his eyes. "All this time."

A lump forms in my throat, "I-"

"You kept this to yourself for years." He grits out, his voice growing sadder by the minute. "Years, Riley."

"I’m sorry," I sob, curling up into a ball, choking on my tears. "I’m s-so sorry."

"Why?" He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"I-I didn’t wanna bother you," I babble, gasping so much for air I choke even more. "You’re busy with work and your own love life, who am I to bother you with my problems?" Tears blur my vision and stain my glasses, rolling uncomfortably down the bridge of my nose. "Isn’t that what growing up is about?" I whisper, staring lifelessly down at my untouched tea. "Learning how to depend on yourself?"

"Riley, I don’t care if you’re fucking 80." Sehun barks, scaring me until he opens his arms, forgiveness swirling in his softened brown eyes. "You can come to me for anything."

"O-Okay," I mumble, hiding in his chest.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I don’t care if you shave your relaxed hair, adopt a cat, or the world is on fire." He proclaims sternly. "No matter what, you can always come to me."

The comforting smell of fresh laundry on his clothes has my shoulders relaxing, my sobs quieting down to small hiccups. "Okay." 

"Good. Now take these sweaters back."

His words take a few moments to register in my sluggish mind. "Huh?" I blink, lifting my head off of him, sitting up fully and immediately recognizing the bundle of clothes in Luhan’s hands. "No," I shake my head, ignoring how dizzy I suddenly feel. "Sehun, those are yours-"

"And I want you to have them."

"I-" My heart constricts in conflict, "But-"

"But nothing. You act like I don’t know that your ass gets cold." He mutters grumpily, crossing his arms. "Keep them, alright?" Being the observant guy that he is, he picks up on my weary glance at Luhan. "Lu chipped in some of his too."

"Mine are comfier," His boyfriend jokes, smiling cheekily.

"Yah."

"You know it’s the truth."

"Only because you—yah! Why are you crying now?!"

"I just…" I sniffle, laughing softly. "I love you guys."

Luhan’s smile brightens while I whine over Sehun messing up my hair. "We love you more."

•••

May passes by in the blink of an eye, mature plants welcoming the upcoming summer heat. I love and hate this for two reasons. One, it’s a certain someone-who-shall-not-be-named birth month. Two, the dance competition is two weeks away. Two weeks. It is literally May 20th and I am sweating my hair out over it.

Why did I agree to this forsaken competition again? Oh right—I decided that a two-step routine is the equivalent of a love triangle. Nice going, Riley.

I sigh, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. Two weeks until the competition means that my schedule is more packed. Yeah Park’s Publishing may be on an "easy going" break from publishing books right now, but I’m not getting a breather. 

Nope, the moment I jokingly told Jongin how I didn’t know what to do with all my free time, he brought up daily dance practice—no, he down right demanded it. And when I started to complain:

"What? It’s not like you have anything else better to do."

I’ve been seething over that for a week.

Huffing at the memory, I plop my bag not-so-subtly on a chair before looking at Jongin on the other side of the room.

"Glaring at me won’t help you perfect the choreo faster-"

"Suck my dick."

"Oh, baby," He grins, raising a brow. "I would if I could." He saunters his way over to me, his beautiful bronze skin already glowing in a thin sheen of sweat when he leans down to face me, "but I don’t mind either way."

I push him away with a hard roll of my eyes, "Let’s get this over with."

"Feisty," He humors. "Someone is feeling better today."

"Better enough to kick your ass," I mutter, tying up my hair in a messy bun.

"Let’s rehearse the second verse," He takes a swing of his water bottle, a serious expression on his features. "Then we’ll talk." 

"Bring it on," I lift my chin, playing tough despite the nervousness washing over me.

He nods, grabbing the stereo remote and getting into position. "Show me what you got."

We go over the steps one last time before we begin. The first half of the choreo goes smoothly… and then I stumble the moment the second chorus hits.

"Let’s take a break."

"No," I shake my head, resting my hands on my knees.

"Riley."

"One more time." I pant, trying to catch my breath. "I swear I got it, just-"

"We’ve been at it for 30 minutes."

"But-"

"Break. Now."

I flop to the floor in a tired heap, groaning loudly to annoy him. I’m grateful he called for a break though, my flat feet are crying for mercy like no one’s business. Maybe I should—"Ah," I sigh in relief.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off my shoes," I mumble, throwing him a look over my shoulder, not liking his attitude. "My feet are dying over here."

Jongin raises a brow, leaning against the mirror on the other side of the room. "Your parents didn’t see a pediatrician about that?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Born and raised in America," I chirp. "The land of the free, Mother fucka."

Both his brows shoot up. "Are you feverous?"

"No," I mumble, fiddling with a loose string on my shirt. "It’s really hot out."

"Have you been sleeping?" His eyes narrow at my lack of response. "Riley?"

"Oh would you look at that, the ceiling tiles have a noticeable gap between them-"

"Sit down."

"I’m fine." I sigh, reluctantly dragging myself over to the only chair in the room.

"You won’t be if you keep this up." He points out, more than a little peeved. "Have you been drinking enough?"

"I-"

He thrusts his water bottle in front of me. "Drink this."

"But you drank from it!"

"I’ll give you mouth to mouth too if you don’t sit your ass down."

I blink, giving him a long, wide-eyed stare. "Why so serious?" The fed up expression on his face is enough of an answer. "Okay—okay! Fine." Inspecting the bottle for anything floating around on the bottom, I tilt my head back to pour some water in my mouth, mumbling with stuffed cheeks, "There, happy?"

Jongin just sighs, turning on a rotating fan. "Stay here. I don’t want you moving until you finish that bottle."

"Sir yes sir," I mutter, giving a little salute. Grinning when he glares sternly at me. He sighs before going back to the other side of the room.

Watching him practice his solo parts in the mirror, I leisurely sip from the bottle, noticing how his shirt sticks to his fit body. Jongin is tall, a bit broad, and lean. He has a dancer’s body and muscle in all the right places—I can’t imagine his diet. I shiver at the thought of it, checking my forehead. I’m not picky about fitness; I’m a bit on the curvy side myself. I rather have something to sink my fingers into. Speaking of which...

"Hey, Jongin?" I call him tentatively, continuing when he hums. "Why… Why did you make a choreo with me in mind?"

He doesn’t respond for a minute, and I wonder if he will until he goes over to retrieve something from his bag. "I always wanted to dance with you," He admits, throwing a towel around his neck. "To know what it was like to view your beauty up close." He bends his knee, bracing his foot against the wall as my eyes widen. "The way you move, twirl around, and glide across the floor. The blissed out expression on your face… You are at home on the dancefloor, and it shows." He looks up at me then. "You shine brighter than a million stars."

I forget how to breathe for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"I’ve never been envious of Baekhyun but..." His sultry eyes meet mine again. "When it comes to you, it’s hard to fight my jealousy."

My lips part a few times, endless questions dying on the tip of my tongue. Realizing I’m gaping like a fish out of water, I settle for looking down with a hot blush.

Jongin chuckles, tossing his towel onto his bag. "Come on," He pushes off of the wall, walking over to me and taking me by the hand. "Let’s finish up for today."

"I can stand up on my own, you know?" I grumble. "...Thank you."

He just smiles before we take our positions in the middle of the room.

We take it from the top again, soaring through the routine without a hiccup. I put all my energy into not missing a step, dancing beside and around him with ease—

"Stop."

"What?" I blink, turning around to him. "What’s wrong now?"

"That."

"What?" I repeat, my eyes narrowing.

"That." He emphasises, gesturing to me. "You’re too tense. You need to relax."

"How do you expect me to relax, Jongin?" I mumble heatedly, hurt swelling inside of my chest. "I broke up with the love of my life. I had a shitty week. I can barely do the second verse of the choreo without breaking my ankles-"

"You can’t relax," He speaks up, suddenly standing in front of me. Staring into my eyes with his determined ones. "Because you don’t want to."

"I-"

"You fear what will happen if you do." He continues, holding me captive with his piercing gaze. "You fear the unknown."

"D-Don’t I have the right to...?" I hush, feeling my heart race the longer I look into his observant brown eyes. A part of me hates it; being read like an open book. My vulnerabilities and weak points on display without me wanting them to be. But this is Jongin.

He stares deep into my eyes, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. "Not on my watch."

There’s nothing to fear.

He selects a song for the stereo to play, and the moment a certain afrobeat instrumental plays through its speakers, I feel the urge to move my body deep in my soul.

"Let go," He encourages, turning around to meet my eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

Woman

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I’m intimidated by my reflection in the mirror. The sight of me with messy hair, dewy skin, baggy clothes, and my bare feet makes me feel like the wildest looking woman in the world… until I see the sadness and fear visible in my own eyes.

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

Slowly, I move my hips to the beat, getting a feel for it while watching myself in the mirror. My awkward posture makes me tsk, shifting into a more flattering and stable position. 

What you need?

She give tenfold, come here, papa, plant your seed

She can grow it from her womb, a family

Provide lovin' overlooked and unappreciated, you see (Yeah)

The lyrics… A sense of empowerment washes over me in waves, motivating the swirl of my hips and the smile forming on my lips. The melody of the song begins to seep into my very bones, warming me up from the inside out.

You can reciprocate

I got delicious taste, you need a woman's touch in your place

Just protect her and keep her safe

Baby, worship my hips and waist

So feminine with grace

I touch your soul when you hear me say, "Boy"

Let me be your woman

Winding my waist feels like the most natural thing in the world, circling my wrists while bringing my hands back down to my sides. I can see Jongin’s proud smile from the corner of my eye.

My movements get more energetic as the chorus plays again, the repetitive lyrics flowing like the blood in my veins, felt deep in my very being. Hitting me on a level that very few things ever could.

I glide across the floor when the second verse begins, letting my hair loose and throwing my weight around. The soreness of my waist only makes me shimmer harder, fighting against the aches trying to hold me back—against the chains locked in my mind.

Princess or queen, tomboy or king (Yeah)

You've heard a lot, you've never seen (Nah)

Mother Earth, Mother Mary rise to the top

Divine feminine, I'm feminine (Why?)

Throwing my hands up, I smile as Jongin starts complimenting my movements, playing a smooth rhythmic cat and mouse game with him all over the dance studio. My bare feet on the wooden floor propels me forward, making me feel more connected with the Earth around me, with the woman I want to be.

I’ve caught up to him by the time the song ends, breathing heavily with giddiness pumping in my veins. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I feel like me again—I’ve found myself again.

A hand tucking hair behind my ear has my eyes snapping up to Jongin’s, the adoring expression in his chestnut brown eyes making me feel small and appreciated at the same time. He cradles my face in the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek. Tingles erupt on my skin; my heart swells with something I haven’t felt in a long time when he starts to lean in.

"You were out fucking Jongin."

I flinch away, pressing my back to the wall, my heart in my throat. "I-I," I look away, hot embarrassment painting my face red. "I don’t want to make you a rebound." A thought occurs to me at that moment: how much taller and stronger Jongin is than me. The consequence of my actions. The vacant practice room. Fearing the worst, I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Nothing happens for a while, the silence dragging on for so long that I start to grow lightheaded, cursing myself for agreeing to all of this in the first place.

Are you happy?

I pause, thinking hard for a moment. Despite the rain cloud constantly hanging over my head, I am doing something that I love. Regardless of me looking like pure shit, Jongin sees a light in me. And against all the fucking odds, I… I feel liberated. I feel free.

With that, I open my eyes, staring fearlessly at the man in front of me.

To my surprise, Jongin smiles. "I don’t want to overstep my boundaries," He mumbles, resting his forehead on mine.

A smile breaks out on my face, putting my secret dimples on full display.

It’s finally D Day—the dance competition is just about to begin, and I can’t for the life of me find my bracelet.

"Do you really need that?" Jongin carefully ruffles his styled hair, squinting with one eye over at me.

"It’s for luck," I justify, searching both our bags.

"You depend on a silly little bracelet to give you luck?"

"My grandma made it for me," I snap, my blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Okay, okay—you," He gently takes me by the shoulders, directing me to his chair. "Sit. I’ll find it."

Finding that all-too-familiar 'no nonsense’ expression on his face, I sigh, carefully covering my eyes with my hand. Both of us got our makeup done for today. He’s got on a golden glimmer of eyeshadow to bring out the sultry brown of his eyes, and I’m rocking a burgundy shade that makes my eyes have their own sensual glare in the mirror.

Tucking my hair-sprayed hair behind my ear, I wince at the thought of washing it out later, but the end result is worth it. My brown hair is bone-straight, complementing Jongin’s lavender-gray, middle-parted hair. Not gonna lie, he’s a total eye-candy right now in that red jacket and mesh shirt, and his stage presence is to die for. His oozing confidence just pumps me up even more.

Watching him pull out my bracelet from some hidden department that I have never seen before in my life and come over to strap it onto my wrist with the gentlest touch has newfound hope blossoming in my heart. We came to perform and we came to perform well.

As if hearing my thoughts, Jongin looks up at me at that moment, nodding firmly.

I nod right back, smiling softly. Win or lose, we are going to give it our all.

We make our way out of the dressing room, listening for our cue from the staff member next to the gap leading out onto the stage. They give directions to someone in their headset before giving us the signal.

I can hear the crowd as we step onto the stage, vibrating the floor under us and my whole being with their excited cheers. Nerves aren't pumping furiously through my veins. No, pure adrenaline guides me forward, and the reassuring smile Jongin sends my way makes me at ease all the more.

When the lights dim and the music starts, my hands are already in my hair, my hips popping to the beat.

Just let it flow as it is for me.

As it moves, show me.

I slide down into a crouch, spreading my knees before rolling my neck to the beat. Quickly standing back up, I slowly run my hands through my hair, swaying my hips side to side. I stop moving to let the crowd focus on Jongin, watching him with a smile.

The party has been getting boring.

Jongin starts doing his own thing while I beckon him closer with a body roll, strutting to him on the other side of the stage. I strike a different pose along to the beat, rubbing my hands over my body and rolling my hips. 

Don’t hide it anymore for me

Sliding my hand down my chest, we lock eyes before the chorus hits.

The reason that hides your heart

Do you feel it triggering me a bit?

Here comes the fun part; we sync up our dance moves. Shooting each other little smiles while staying on beat. My long hair sways in the wind; the feeling of being free—free to be me striking me with a sense of comfort in this moment. Jongin catches my eye as if he feels it as well, his killer smirk morphing into a heartwarming smile.

Baby don’t play with me

I slow down to sway my hips to the beat while Jongin slides behind me, pressing his firm chest to my back. The ripples of his abs brush against me through the fabric of his mesh-shirt, warming my sun-kissed skin under the light heat of the partially cloudy sky. His hand tucks under my chin when I face him for the next lyric, "You’re my VIP."

(She talkin’ about)

We sync up again for the next part of the choreography, making me giggle in delight, beaming over the fact that I might have cried a hundred times practicing this choreo but I can finally say that I can dance it without breaking my ankles. And the proud smile on Jongin’s face adds onto that fact.

He points out to the crowd and we change positions as the pre chorus starts again. Jongin acts like the cool, smooth man that he is while I roll my way back to him, matching his moves before blowing a kiss to the crowd when the chorus kicks back in again.

Top down ya

It could be you and me, it could be you and me

I place my hand on Jongin’s shoulder, strutting around him while he shrugs off his jacket. Preparing for the bridge that we changed last minute. Now it’s his time to shine.

Now let me give you what you want tonight

You told me

I take a step back, focusing on complimenting his movements while he has his moment to woo the crowd. Those charming smirks and attractive smiles can steal the heart of anyone, especially the cheering people standing in the front row. There’s a lot of things I’ve learned recently about Jongin, and his unmistakable stage presence is one of them.

The chorus comes back one final time and we go all out. Dancing until our feet ache and the wind picks up around us. The sweet smell of tteokbokki and summer breeze in the air brings another smile to my face. Jongin gets down on the floor while I kneel on one knee to straddle his lap, looking into his eyes with his finger tucked under my chin as the last lyrics of the song fades away.

There’s a long moment of silence, and then the crowd erupts into cheers. Applauding so loud it overwhelms my sensitive ears. Jongin and I step forward to take one last bow, smiling at each other before making our way off stage… but a certain, persistent stare has my eyes flickering back to the crowd. The glimmer of silver hair in the front row is all I allow myself to see before hurrying to leave.

"That was," I start, gasping for breath by the time we reach the dressing room. "Fucking amazing!"

Jongin smiles, glancing over at me, "You liked it, huh?"

"Dude—I fucking lived for it!"

He laughs and it’s super cute, especially with his wide smile.

"That was so cool," I sigh, flopping down onto the couch.

Jongin raises a brow, a smile still on his plump lips. "Would you do it again?-"

"Hell no!" I squeak. "Well… Not unless it’s with you." His eyes dance under the painfully bright lights. "Stop smirking, I take it back."

"Don’t worry." He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans back against the vanity table. "You’ll be the first one I call next time too."

We’re called back up onto the stage before I can reply, but the smile I beam his way speaks volumes. However, nerves are plaguing my mind this time around. There’s no mistaking the silver hair that I saw in the crowd.

Just as I thought, when we are standing next to the other contestants, there he is. Front and center. I close my eyes with a deep sigh. What the fuck, man? Why are you everywhere?! Can I catch a break from him please? Please?!

Tension builds in my body, but then something cracks.

You know what—

I clench my fists. Fuck him. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or not; he’s no longer a part of my life. Why should I care?

My eyes don’t stray far from the judge and Jongin, even with the constant itch of Baekhyun’s stare. Take a picture, it’ll last longer, asshole. 

The minutes seem to drag on as the judge gives his big speech, listing the criterias and rubric for calculating the winner. A whole lot of gibberish that I have no interest in listening to; I hope Jongin is paying attention. The knowing look he gives me when we briefly make eye contact confirms it. Yep, I smile sheepishly. Sorry.

That damn ticklish sensation on my skin still hasn’t moved while the couple in 3rd place steps forward to receive their reward. I swear to the heavens, Byun Baekhyun—

Snapping my neck around, I glare right at him despite my heart dropping at the sight.

He stands in the front row, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the crowd in his black hoodie and dark jeans. The only thing that makes him pop is his ever-silver hair… and the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

My heart races. Are those—

"And the winner is: Jongin and Riley!"

The crowd roars in excitement, everyone standing up to applaud us as the judge hands Jongin the trophy and a helper places a ribbon around my shoulders. I can’t help but beam at Jongin, both of us smiling wide enough for our mouths to hurt later, but I don’t worry about that now. This is our moment. I throw my arms around him, laughing loudly when he sets down the trophy to spin me around in the air. 

"We did it!" I wrap my arm carefully around his neck, pumping my fist in the air.

Jongin sets me back down, keeping his arms loosely around my waist. "You," He plants a kiss on the top of my head, "did it."

I can’t erase the smile on my face or the glee in my heart even if I tried. My eyes glance back out at the crowd while he goes around congratulating the other contestants, immediately locking onto those soul-sucking, puppy brown eyes. Half a year later and his eyes never fail to make me feel nothing and everything all at once. But I won’t let that define me: I’m not Baekhyun’s woman anymore.

Spectators in the crowd around him are buzzing with energy, dancing to the outro music they are playing overhead while he continues to stand stock-still, his brown eyes focused on me. 

My mind drifts for a second, imagining what it would have been like to be standing up on this stage with him, winning the competition with him by my side. I acknowledge it, let my mind have its little reminiscing moment—and then nip it right in the bud.

I don’t want to live a life of 'What ifs?’ anymore—I want to experience those 'Why nots?’ instead.

I sense Jongin before he steps closer, his chest brushing against the back of my arm. "Are you ready to go?" He asks, his lips grazing my ear.

I continue to lock eyes with Baekhyun, laughing inwardly at the unreadable expression on his face and the lack of a sparkle in his eyes. And when that tall raven from months ago runs to pull him into a hug, my gaze doesn’t waver from his in the slightest. "Yes." I turn my back on him and rest my hand on Jongin’s bicep with a swirl of my hips, peeking at him from under my eyelashes.

He smiles down at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. We link our arms together while walking backstage and out of the stadium.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)  P(2)

A/N: Team Jongin or Team Baekhyun? After that dance practice scene, my heart is stuck somewhere in between 💔

Hiya! Long time no see (^-^)

I don't have much to say ahh (>.<) my brain is fried. The emotions in this chapter came from a week of sleepless nights and a marathon of Doja Cat's Planet Her <3 I still got 10 scenes to finish up before Six Phases will be completed. This isn't the end! Just the best cliffhanger I could do with a 100+ page doc (thanks to my nearsightedness. font-size 16 is a lifesaver)

I might suddenly drop the Finale out of nowhere :'D everything depends on Riley~

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story!! 🥺🥰🌸💗 Writing this baby (haha) is my favorite thing to do and to share it with all of you means the world to me <333 Alright, I'll stop being mushy. Have a great weekend, lovelies! See you as soon as the Finale is done~

Happy two years of Un Village & city lights!!

Thank you endless Baekhyunee for inspiring me. I wouldn't be here without you ❤️

[blueprint-han]

on top of the world ↠ hhj.

genre: royal au; fluff inspired by a fucking barbie movie leave me alone okay

⇥ warnings: if having a ballroom dance with hyunjin is a warning, then <3, district names are randomly chosen, not meant in reference to SKZ !!

wc: 1.5 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Hwang Hyunjin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

taglist: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz​ @sunoo-luvs 

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @tpwkjerii​ (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: dghwey i had literally no idea what to write for your url, so i searched up the full form of “tpwk” and ended up with “treat people with kindness”. I developed it into an idea i already had. Tell me if you like it <33 ⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: oh... i cannot... write fantasy for the life in me. ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Ladies, all in line.” The instructor clapped her hand, signaling all the princess and lady royals to line up in front of her. You quickly scrambled out of where you were seated, almost doubling over your heels as you tried to wobble your way to the line. 

Oh curse those heels. They were gonna be the reason you crashed headfirst into the floor one day, you were sure. They were those typical pointy, magenta colored pumps that only an expert in poise could pull of properly. Your uniform didn’t help either, layers and layers of clothing — topped of with a jacket, which meant you would be sweating buckets if it weren’t for the air conditioning.

Gosh, you hated being the princess and heir to the next throne. Why couldn’t you just lounge in the courtroom in your sweats and sneakers? They were more fashionable anyway. When your mom had told you that you were gonna attend “Royal Training School”, you’d pictured horse riding in the lush green stables, elegant dinners with rich silverware, and most of all — just having some time away from the royal castle, just having some time for yourself and having fun in that time.

Well, you were in for a huge mess.

It’d been only a week since you attended this place, and you hated it. The place woke you up at 5 a.m., shoved breakfast (which was mostly a piece of “high gluten” bread) to your hands and then took you ballroom dancing. So your day was terrible from the beginning already. There was no horseback riding, no sword fighting, because according to your parents — “princesses didn’t do fights”. Seemed superstitious to you, someone with a forward thinking mind, but what could you do?

Too dazed in your thoughts, your foot slipped and you lurched forward. You yelped loudly, but before you could catch the attention of the class or feel the polished marble against your face, a hand wrapped around your waist, ceasing your fall and holding you mid-air.

“You okay, princess?”

You snapped back into attention, eyes meeting with your classmates, all of them having a shocked look on their faces, and some of them anger. Turning around, you were surprised to gaze into hazel brown eyes that seemed to draw you in without reserve.

“Um..., princess?”

“Ah, yes!” You snapped out of it once again, straightening up as you smoothened the fabric of your shirt. “T-Thank you.” You took once glance at his face, and... wow. He was absolutely ethereal. His golden locks of hair fell perfectly over his temples, he adorned a majestic black suit and by just looking at him, he exuded confidence.

He giggled. “It’s alright, princess. Glad you aren’t hurt.”

“Oh, that-”

“Ahem!” The both of you looked to the side, noticing now how the entire class, along with the instructor were giving you snobby glares. “If you’re done chit chatting, can we start out class, Princess Y/N and Prince Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin. That was a pretty name.

You noticed that there was another line of men, wearing similar attire like Hyunjin, lined up in front of the princesses. “They must be from another academy,” Silent thoughts flooded your mind as you took your place, and your eyes went wide when you found yourself face to face with the Hyunjin guy again, though there was a reasonable distance between the both of you.

“Now, royals.” The instructor chimed, clacking her heels against the surface as she waltzed to the edge of the room. “You’ve been practicing ballroom dancing with yourselves for a while now, so The Head and me decided that it would be a good idea for you to get a little peek of what the actual thing looks like.” She said uninterestedly, picking at the underside of the nails as she started the music.

Immediately, slow, melodious music flooded through the speakers as you looked at one another. and then at the guy in front of you... err, Hyunjin. “You’ve already been partnered up, so get started.”

Your mouth dropped open a bit when you realised what the instructor’s statement meant, almost panicking when all the girls next to you bowed down gracefully, coaxing you to follow the same. Hyunjin did the signature “bow down and lend a hand” pose like his other classmates, and you hesitantly straightened up, lending a hand to him.

Immediately, just like how confident he looked, he pulled you close to himself, settling his hands on your hips as a smirk graced his features.

Ah... so he’d noticed you blushing.

You didn’t know why you were blushing in the first place. You’d never met this person before, but something about him just made the giddy schoolgirl in you bubble up to the surface. You shyly settled your hands on his shoulders, moving along to the beat with his motions... and silently praying your ant’s worth of dancing knowledge would not fuck this up.

“So, should we do the introductions?”

“What?” You asked, almost stumbling on your feet once again. You made a mental reminder to burn the current pair of heels you were sporting.

“Don’t you introduce yourself to the person you’re dancing with?” he heaved a laugh, almost melting at how adorably bashful you were getting in his hold. You were about to mumble a response, but then stopped, gathered your confidence, and smiled sweetly.

“Oh well then, I’m Princess Y/N from District 8; honor to meet you.” You said in a sing song voice, muffling a laugh as Hyunjin twirled you around in his hold and pulled you back. The velvet coat was soft under your touch, and for some odd reason, you wondered how his soft-lookin hair would feel under your palm.

“I’m Prince Hyunjin from District 10; equally honored to meet you,” He tilted his head to the side and you noticed him bite his lip for a second. Brushing it off, you continued swaying to the music, feeling slightly more at ease now.

“How’s school here, princess Y/N? You enjoying?” His tone was respectful, almost like he was talking to a friend he met after many years,

“Nah,” You rolled your eyes, making Hyunjin look at you like a confused puppy, waiting for you to explain. Hyunjin wasn’t used to someone hearing they disliked royal training, especially when he’d found it nothing but enjoying.

“It’s just the same old. “Oh go to ballroom, learn to balance books on your head, walk with grace, eat your food elegantly, dance again. sleep early!” Your voice was a hushed whisper, yet mocking. “You’d think that’s what I should’ve expected, but I wanted to learn sword fighting, horse riding, that kind of stuff. They barely let us outdoors here.” You tsked, watching as Hyunjin bit his lip again.

“What?” You asked, figuring that Hyunjin knew you’d noticed his action.

He chuckled. “Your stepping on my toes.”

“Oh crap I am?” You looed down, pulling your feet farther away from his as an apology crawled up your tongue, but before you could shoot it out, Hyunjin stopped you. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ll step on yours and we’ll get even?” He winked, a smug look on is face as he waited for your reply. The music was basically forgotten at his point, both f you lost in a world where nobody else existed, just you, your thoughts, your words, and your giggles. You mirrored his playful expression. “I’d like to see you try.”

Hyunjin didn’t break eye contact, and you felt a small flutter in your chest when he did so. He lifted his foot, but you were too quick, you moved your foot away the moment he settled his own down, and then for revenge, you stepped on his foot once again.

“Ouch!” Hyunjin shrieked, and thanks to the loud music. no one could hear him. You hadn’t stomped too hard thankfully, but Hyunjin’s cute expression when he crinkled his nose sent you into a spiral of giggles.

“Hey! You’re supposed to treat people with kindness” He pouted, twirling you around once again as he led you to the next spot in the ballroom. Your feet basically slid around at this point, and you didn’t even mind your heels.

“Yeah? That’s what you get for trying to step on a princess’ toes.” You rested your head against his shoulder, muffling your giggles as well as calming your heart at the sudden sprut of confidence.

Hyunjin’s grip on your waist tightened, making you straighten up, faint heat dusting your cheeks. The dance was almost coming to an end, and you wished it could go on forever. You hadn’t had such fun in a while, but unfortunately, Hyunjin didn’t belong to this academy. Sadly, the dance would come to an end.

“Maybe I can teach you horse riding?” Hyunjin inquired, a curious glint in his eyes as he watched your reaction. You gasped in shock.

“Y-you’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course, if you’re up for it.”

“How will we even do that?”

“I mean, you can’t tell me you haven’t sneaked out of the premises at night.”

You remained silent.

“Thought so.” Hyunjin winked again. “So, what do you say?”

You twirled around one more time, moving slightly closer to him when you came back this time. The next moment, the music stopped, and you murmured to him with a smirk pulled at your lips.

“I’d be on top of the world.”

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

[hyucksong]

nct dream as roommates

a/n: *romantically calls you bro* 

lee mark 

the roommate that walked in on you taking a shower on the first night you moved in and avoided you for a week afterward

he even went as far as browsing different apartments to live in because baby boy was too afraid to face you

sometimes wakes up before you and he always prepares your coffee or tea and sets it by your bed for you when you wake up…sometimes sits on the edge of your bed to watch you

asks you to do his laundry because he doesn’t know how to separate the colors

you’re fine with doing them because he tries his absolute bestest with everything else, and it’s so cute

the first time he did the laundry you were sick…and you got a whole new wardrobe of pink clothing the next day

always does the dishes and you do the laundry…he’ll clean the living room and kitchen if you clean the bathrooms…he’ll go grocery shopping…only if you go with him

asks you to do his hair when he meets up with his friends, and if you say no he says “okay” and then pouts until you agree

you really like photography but hiring models is expensive so you always ask mark to model for you

and he always agrees, blushing while doing so

make-up artists are expensive too, so you also get him dressed up and add whatever you want to his face

(once you did a fairy photoshoot and he had freckles and pink cheeks and your heart did the thing) 

this time you need him to sit still for hours because it's supposedly a big photoshoot with a few other photographers coming too, so there’s a lot of looks to get through 

you do the first look before you get to the photo site to save time

he thinks nothing of you curling his hair until he looks up at you and time slows as his heart stops…

because you smell like vanilla and your nose is scrunched in concentration…because your breathing is heavy as you run to the bathroom to get more things before you’re late…

because you’re biting your lip while looking at him, admiring your own work, proud of the way the make-up came out, but a little disheartened because it looked like you put a little too much blush (even though you only put a little) 

and mark thinks,,, oh no

fuck

huang renjun

your best friend since you were a child

you’re used to ‘living with him’ because you practically lived with him as a kid; you were always at his house spending the night or vice versa 

he wakes you up an hour after he gets up because ‘he needs his peaceful time’

claims that ‘you’re the worst person to live with’ but refuses to look for another apartment because ‘no one else can handle you but me’

(in reality, he knows that there will never be anyone else he’ss comfortable with as you) 

he wakes you up by throwing a pillow in your face and or flopping on your bed next to you and bouncing a few times

once got really scared because you weren’t waking up no matter what he did, and when he started to tear up you opened your eyes and pushed him off the bed 

you just didn’t want to be woken up that day and tried to ignore him, but apparently, you ignored him for too long because he genuinely freaking out on the inside

he’s watched ‘what’s eating gilbert grape’ okay he was SCARED

he didn’t talk to you for three days after that....only started to wake you up again because you made the effort to wake up before him and make him breakfast in bed with hot tea

he expected you to leave his room after you gave it to him, but you just looked at him for a minute before sitting on the bed next to him, getting under the covers with him 

he focused on the fact you were taking up all the space instead of the now-familiar thrum of his heartbreak against his ribcage

(he’s felt it for the past fewyears, he’s gotten used to drowning it out) 

“y/nnnnnnn what are you doingggggg”

“shut up i made the breakfast, can’t i at least sit next to my favorite boy?”

...he’s your favorite boy?...okaythatwasreallycutebuthe’llneveradmitit

“o...kay...”

blushes when you lay your head on his shoulder in bed, watching whatever he’s doing on his phone, because your cheek is warm against his shirt and its bleeding through onto his skin and weiowioegfhowieh

but also yells at you when you take a bite of his toast and bolt out of the room, giggling

“yAH y/N”

lee jeno

the roommate that was awkward for the first month because he didn’t really want to room with a girl because then he can’t spend saturday with the boys 

then he brought them home one day without telling you and was expected to get his ass Whopped but you were drinking vodka and crying while watching Cars so

yeah you were the perfect roommate for him

you drink together

saturday may be for the boys but sunday is for drinking your problems away with your roommate 

can’t cook but will make BOMB desserts for you both every friday...also fridays are pizza nights and you both order a large cheese pizza with ranch on the side and a pint of dr.pepper

yall have the same diet but he has a six-pack and you don’t so you call bullshit on health and everything it is

both of you fall asleep on the couch all the time, TV still playing the game soundtrack with the controllers on the floor, blinking from low battery

jeno alwayswakes up before you, and he doesn’t admit it, but he loves to watch you sleep

you just look so...ethereal 

even with the drool

ANYWAY

you are one of the bros...he’s even taken a shit when you took a shower before -- that’s how close you are 

then one day you get dressed up real pretty and he’s making fun of you, laughing “you never look this nice who’s holding you at gunpoint”

“i’m going on a date jeno hop off my DICK”

“,,,what”

immediately felt defensive and was questioing who could like you and why you were going on a saturday night when it was busy on the streets and also please call the guy and cancel the date because he wants to watch toy story with you and eat pasta why are you going out with someone has he met him why haven’t you told jeno about this guy you know what you should just not go

and it’s when you walk out the door rolling your eyes, promising to be back home before 9pm with a cute shirt on and nice perfume on when jeno realizes 

that damn he hates to see you leave,,,but he loves to watch you go

(and he might have the teeniest, weeniest crush on you) 

lee donghyuck

the type to never clean the dishes and always makes you do them even if he cooks because he hates the feeling of wet food

then one day he sees you v e r y stressed over school work and he just...cleans the whole house

you come back from the library and you’re like,,,the fuck where’s haechan and what have you done with him

in turn, you buy him a headset that he’s been wanting for the past year...and you think he’s about to propose to you after you give them to him

but in all reality he’s just so happy that you even remembered something so trivial...like he talking about them once (1) and you remembered?

...cute bitch

he’s a big prankster, but in an endearing way, so whenever he goes too far you never really stay mad because he’s just a little unaware of the anger his pranks cause

plus you always get back at him 

always :)

you both are basically the same people; you’re passionate about your studies and he’s passionate about gaming and dancing

yall are the bad bitches that no one messes with 

BET that yall wear matching fits whenever you two go out together

you get together to watch his favorite youtubers do let’s plays of popular games

one day yall sit down to watch some outlast 2

and boy

did you underestimate the scare factor

so now you’re three episodes deep into the let’s play and your head is buried in haechans stomach because you’re laying down facing away from the TV, clinging to the poor boy

he doesn’t know if his heart is beating so fast because of the jumpscare or because of the way you look up at him when you ask if the scary part is over yet

he doesn’t like seeing you scared with tears in your eyes...but the way you’re clinging to him makes him want to watch a thousand more scary episodes...

...if it means you’ll cuddle with him

na jaemin

the best roommate you could ever ask for

he loves to clean and cook, not to mention he’s an absolute sweetheart!!!!!!!

you started to live with him because you had posted an ad on a website for a roommate and he sent back a reply

but the texts used so many of (=｀ω´=) these emojis you just assumed it was a girl

he was not

every night before you go to bed, he’ll walk into your room and whisper “good night, sleep well” to you before petting you head and walking out

people always wonder if you’re dating, but you always reply that it’s just the way he is

until one night you invite your (asshole) project partner to your apartment and she flirts with him endLESSLY,,, not doing her work or anything, just talking with jaems

like it’s pissing you off, and you think it’s pissing him off, and you’re about to send her home when you notice the storm outside and you realize,,,, you’re too good of a person to do that

so she sleeps on the couch, and you do the same, just so you can keep an eye on her and so that she isn’t left alone with jaemin at any point (poor boy looked like he’s about to combust if she tries to talk to him again) 

and jaemin does his usual routine even with the extra company, stroking your head and even going as far as to place a kiss on your forehead

“what about me, do I get a kiss” the girl annoyingly asked

“no, you’re not yn” and hE WALKS AWAY AND CLOSES THE DOOR TO HIS ROOM 

there’s silence in your head as you process his words, a little shocked and confused as to what he means, but most of all, your thoughts consist of;

oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

you might have just fallen for him (let’s face it, you’ve been in love with him (just not as long as he’d been in love with you)) 

zhong chenle

not going to lie, you two did NOT get along in the beginning

you were each other’s first roommates, and you knew he was extroverted, but you underestimated the differences between your personalities

like,,, no please don’t invite the dreamies over again for the eighth time this week I can’t focus on homework with all the screaming

but even with all the head-butting, the chores are split evenly because he’s practicing to ‘be marriage material for his future wife’

you don’t care as long as he just does what he’s supposed to, and you two aren’t exactly the closest

but there are times when you connect, like on lazy Sunday afternoons where you both just relax on the couch...anywaY

and he always rolls his eyes, telling you that ‘you need to stop being a hermit and make some friends’

‘get some confidence’

‘why don’t you put any effort into how you dress’

it hurts a little...you know you’re not the prettiest and you don’t really try anyway

but to have it pointed out to you just...stings

and after a guy rejects you (after you built up courage for a whole years to confess to him) your confidence is at an all-time low (he said no because ‘you were too bland’ like wtf fUCk you)

and you’re just crying and eating spaghetti o’s, telling chenle as oon as you walk into the door that you’re ‘too sensitive for his bullshit today’ 

to which chenle doesn’t care... then he sees your puffy eyes and asks wha happens

you tell him, and he just gets...angry

(and jealous?)

he goes on a tangent, mocking the guy, saying that ‘you’re the most doen-to-earth natural beauty’ he’s ever seen and that ‘any guy who doesn’t fall in love with your cute sarcastic personality’ is dumber than a rock

he grumbles for the rest of the night, sitting and watching movies with you; it makes your heart swell that he’s getting so mad for you

and at the end of the mini-movie night, and he strokes your hair saying  that you’re ‘his little introvert’,

you decide that ‘opposite attract’ is 100% true

(and chenle notices that you have very pretty lips)

park jisung

you two are dorm roommates at a dance school, and y’all are so cute all the teachers LOVE you

like you both just spend so much time together it’s ridiculous

yall walk to class together, then from class to class together, eat lunch together, after school activities, walk back to the dorms, meet each other’s friends, go out on the weekends together...everything

it feels weird to not be with him

(the teachers have a bet that you’ll be dating before your senior year)

the dorm is just a studio apartment with two bedrooms (your parents both pay a lot for space) 

so chores aren’t too hard, in fact, you both usually spend the last few hours of daylight on Sunday nights straightening up your apartment from the hectic week before, to start off completely fresh and new

nothing big ever happens on Sundays around the home, but one day jisung (who went to hang out with chenle (he invited you but you pouted and said you had too much hmwk)) found a little puppy on the side of the road

and then proceeded to sneak into the dorms with it, hiding it under his shirt

when he showed you what he found, you couldn’t be mad...it was just so cute (both jisung’s little smile and the puppy) 

but you noticed it was shivering, and you whined, ‘jisung you didn’t even notice it was cold oH My GoD, go get it some water and food’ while you set up a nest of blankets for the little guy

hours later when the puppy had eaten and subsequently fallen asleep in your lap, you turned to jisung

‘let’s name it mousie’

‘what that’s dumb’

‘it’s not dumb! i wanna name it that because it looks like you whenever you sleep! it's so cute hehehe’

you thought jisung was WHAT when he slept

jisung didn’t talk for a whole minute, drinking in your words and thinking about them over and over again, in the meantime you were just smiling down at the puppy

your cheeks were red with happiness and your nose was a little red from sneezing (because the puppy was covered in pollen from being outside) and your gaze was filled with such love that jisung shivered

you let out a sigh and plopped your head on his shoulder, and all his feelings he’d ever had for you exploded in his chest, and he tensed (though if you noticed, you didn’t day anything)

you just kept and petting the dog

and damn did jisung want to be that dog

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR] Kairos

Kairos - Part 12

Pairing: Liam x Riley, Liam x OC Series Rating/Warnings: 18+; language; series will include ns*w 🍋 scenes Chapter Rating/Warnings: G Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Kairos (καιρός) is a word in Greek that translates to “the right time” or “the right moment to act” * Liam’s wife asks about “the one that got away” one night over dinner, and Liam recounts a relationship from his past * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles​​ Prompt 89: This isn't what I had in mind, but okay. * Author’s Note 2: * I apologize if this chapter feels choppy; I haven't updated this story since January, and writing is H A R D, but I want to finish this AU. I know how it ends, I just have to *gestures at the air* get there. * Word Count: 1708

Catch up with previous chapters here

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for this series): @ao719 @blackcatkita @debramcg1106 @ofpixelsandscribbles @callmeellabella @smalltalk88 @aestheticartsx @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @choiceskatie @darley1101 @dcbbw @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @liamxs-world @rainbowsinthestorm @riseandshinelittleblossom @superharriet @texaskitten30 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @the-soot-sprite // @alyssalauren @clairexoxo100 @cordonianroyalty @cordonian-literature @gkittylove99 @gnatbrain @jared2612 @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @pink-diamond13 @princessleac1 @queenjilian @sfb123 @txemrn @yourmajesty09

The evening carried on, and it was nearly impossible for Liam to pull himself away from one conversation to the next. Most of the new suitors vied for his attention to make a good impression, various nobles edged their way into conversations to discuss official business, and his friends made every effort to steal him away for short reprieves. He was dancing when he caught a flash of Max’s dress near the edge of the dance floor.

Brief glimpses and glances of a link to Liam’s almost-love was all The Fates seemed to grant for the duration of the ball, despite his best efforts to carve out a moment with Max. The irony wasn’t lost on him; having found a connection to Elia after years had passed, without a way to speak with her sister. His hand warmed against his dancing partner’s palm as they waltzed with other couples.

“What’s troubling you tonight? Besides the obvious farce of this whole ordeal.” A pair of cherry red lips curled into a sympathetic grin, and Liam nodded in silent agreement. “Something other than counting steps is running through your mind.”

Liam adjusted his grip on Olivia’s hand as he led her across the floor, quickly scanning the crowd for another glimpse of Max. “I require the assistance of a dear friend,” he answered quietly, twirling her in a circle. “Someone who knows of secret passages in the palace to remain undetected, who can also speak with one of the new ladies at court.”

One of Olivia’s brows arched in Liam’s direction. “Has someone managed to catch your eye already?”

“Not the way you think,” he replied. “It’s a long story, and right now I’m grasping at straws, but it’s…something.” As Liam twirled his childhood friend in another circle, the expression in his eyes conveyed the seriousness of his request.

Olivia’s back tensed when she looked up to meet her friend’s gaze, though they moved effortlessly through the song. “What do you need me to do, Li?”

“There’s a young woman here, wearing a peacock ballgown. Her name is Max.”

“There’s some irony,” Olivia giggled. “Maxwell’s probably talking her ear off over her dress alone.”

“I haven’t been able to speak with her since we were introduced.”

“Tell me when and where, I’ll make sure you converse with her before morning.”

Liam shook his head at the suggestion. “That’s not the kind of conversation I need to have, Liv. I do need to speak with her though. It could mean cancelling the rest of the social season before it’s had a chance to begin, in a good way.”

Olivia arched her brow at Liam again, as the music began to come to an end. “I’m going to need a full story about this very soon, if she’s a means of ending the season.”

Liam let out an anxious laugh. “Soon enough, of course. Get her as close as possible to my office without being seen.” He looked over Olivia’s shoulder to see Bastien by the ballroom doors, nodding at him just before Bastien said something to another member of the Kings Guard. “Enjoy the rest of the ball, I’ve got to go over details for tomorrow���s events. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”

--

Nearly an hour after Liam departed the ballroom, he sighed with relief to enjoy the silence in his office once Regina and her team of event planners were satisfied with preparations for the garden party. He poured himself a bit of scotch in a glass as a nightcap, glancing at the clock on the wall. Most of the guests had ventured home while he went over checklists with Regina, minus the suitors and their sponsors that would live at the palace for the next several weeks.

Another weary sigh slipped past Liam’s lips as he returned to the ornate desk in the office, and he removed the cufflinks Madeleine had given to him as a gift. He rolled up his sleeves, trying to ignore the soft ticking of the clock, wondering if Olivia had managed to get a hold of Max. Princess Maria Amelita Xamira Basilio, who had a sister that went by the name Elia. There were too many similarities in her siblings names and the fact that Max looked so similar in appearance to Elia.

He’d opened the laptop on the desk and was about to type Elia’s real name into the search window, when there was a knock at the door. Liam rushed out of his seat to answer, loudly whispering a name when he turned the knob. “Olivia? Is that you?” He was surprised to see Max in the hallway by herself. “Your Highness, please, come in,” he said, stepping aside to let Max pass. “Did anyone see you?”

Max bowed her head to Liam as she stepped into his office. “No, Lady Olivia led me through a number of passages from my room, and distracted the very tall, silver-haired guard down the hall.”

Liam chuckled softly. “That would be Bastien. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Olivia, ever since we were children.” He closed the door shut before walking towards the liquor cabinet. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she replied, taking a seat in one of the small couches. “To what do I owe this clandestine invitation?”

Liam sat down in the matching sofa across from Max, clasping his hands together as he carefully chose what to say next. “Max, you and I are both aware of the reason you’re here, participating in the social season. Under other circumstances, I’m certain you would have caught my eye, just as you did earlier this evening.”

Max chewed a tiny spot of her inner cheek. “There’s a ‘but’, isn’t there?”

“The reason you caught my eye was because you bear a striking resemblance to someone I met several years ago, before I met and married my first wife, Riley. Someone who, until tonight, I thought was lost to me.”

“Are you saying I’ve got a secret twin you’ve already met? This isn’t what I had in mind, but okay.” She grinned conspiratorially at him. “Who’s this doppelgänger that’s stuck with you?”

Liam sucked in a breath before answering. “As it were, it’s your sister. Elia.”

Max blinked at him silently, her eyes welling up with glossy tears at the mention of her name. “You…you knew Elia? When? When did you see her? Have you heard from her?” The questions tumbled out all at once, as Max tried to compose herself.

He picked up a gilded box of tissues from a side table, offering it to her. Max pulled two from the box, dabbing at the corners of her eyes, waiting for a response. “It’s been a number of years,” he began. “She was vacationing in Greece, just before she was supposed to return to university to study law.”

Max stopped dabbing at her tears to look up and study Liam’s face. “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re the guy.”

Liam’s brows pinched together. “She mentioned me?”

“Very briefly,” she responded. “Only that she met someone that gave her a reason to laugh every day, and seemed to understand what she – what we,” she paused, motioning to herself, “were going through, being…high profile?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Liam chuckled softly. “She never said outright that she was a princess, but after we parted ways, many of the things we shared in our conversations made sense.” He looked up to see a puzzled expression on Max’s face. “Her fluency in languages, the way she could tell stories about growing up in vivid detail while overlooking things like ‘I grew up in a palace’ or ‘my parents were especially strict with me and my siblings’…”

“Oh by the way, that’s because they’re the king and queen?” Max scoffed lightly, shaking her head.

“I tried to look for her, for quite some time after that trip,” Liam added. “Only…my efforts were in vain, as the names she used were all nicknames. Even her own name wasn’t fully hers. Elia de Leon.”

Max sniffled and the puzzled expression returned to her face. “De Leon? That’s…our great-grandmother’s name.”

“I suppose that makes sense as well, now that I’m familiar with your family name. Had I searched for Elia Basilio, I might have found out about the royal connection, not that it would’ve changed my opinion of her.” Liam ran a hand across his face, his jawline and chin already rough with stubble. “You haven’t heard from her since that summer either? Anyone in your family?”

“No,” Max answered. “When her personal guard called the morning he was supposed to escort her home, he told my parents the apartment was empty…that she must have snuck away the night before.”

“But I was with her until morning.”

“What?”

“I…” Liam hesitated, taking in a breath. “I had dinner with Elia the night before she was supposed to leave. We talked long into the night, and I told her I was a prince. I even offered to let her stay with me here to take more time and consider alternative options to create some distance with your parents.”

“Because they wanted to marry her off, right?”

“Correct,” Liam nodded. “She only told me it was for a political alliance, to put your family name in a positive light after Mariela’s marriage to someone caused trouble.”

Max sighed with indignation. “That guy, ugh. That’s a story for another evening.” She began to wring the tissue between her hands. “But you saw Elia the next morning?”

“Yes, in fact I was the one that slipped out while she was still sleeping, long after dawn. I stopped for a coffee in the café below where she’d been staying, on my way to return home as well, and I…” Liam paused, recalling the man in the café that morning, remembering the other patron. “You said she had a personal security guard assigned to her?”

“Beni…Benigno, yes,” Max replied.

“Do you have a photo of him?”

“I can do better than that,” Max answered, pulling her phone from the pocket of her cardigan. “He’s here as my security and chaperone for the duration of my stay.”

[tarantulas4davey]

HELLO BESTIE I am currently having Ralbert Brainrot and you're the best person go come to for this, obviously,, so PLEASE share! I would like to hear about ufc albert or youtuber race, or dancing partners!! I love them smm

HI YES HELLO USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO WRITE UFC FIGHTER AL PART 2 THANKS BABES

i just witnessed a literal crime and i’m Feeling The Rage (boxing judges at mma events can catch these hands) so here is. my brain on anger.

also the first half of this is pretty fight-talk heavy but the second half is more al/ralbert central so message me/send me an ask if i don’t explain something well enough <3

here is the ask i sent to @we-are-inevitable (thanks jac i’m in love with you mwah) and here is part 1 for this au if you haven’t read that one yet !!

also,,,,, this is fairly obvious. but trigger warning for violence/physical fighting, as well as blood. (it’s a rough gig y’all fjdhdb) oh and swearing but that’s pretty much just me LMAO

here i am, bein mad and writing ralbert. therapy time with chandler ig

OK SO

this is after his debut. duh. continuation

i think he’s probably 5 fights in with 5 wins. he’s been running people through, especially with four full camps after a short notice start, and he’s never even seen a decision in the ufc

let’s just say the hype train is moving FAST and it’s moving LOUD

everyone has to have those people that watch their fights just to see them lose, on top of the majority male fan base that have to have a little bit of toxic masculinity and homophobia in there

so there’s A LOT of people that are waiting for him and his hype train to get derailed. but there’s also a fair amount of fans, so you win some you lose some (the way i would die to see this be a real fighter pls)

now albert’s not always the most confident guy, and he’s never been cocky, but none of this shit gets to him. he’s got his coaches, he’s got his friends and he’s got race behind him. he knows he’s got the skills, and he’s got his support system, so who gives a shit what a bunch of cowards on the internet have to say?

and then they put him against someone known for his grappling and stamina. and the “it’s a wrap for dasilva!” bandwagon starts. it happens every time a rising striker and early knockout artist fights a well known grappler with any semblance of later round power (even if al has a background in wrestling and has gone 5 rounds and won outside of the ufc. it’s a bandwagon for a reason)

and it’s not Upsetting, it’s not really getting into his head in any way that’ll make him do worse, but it’s kinda pissing him off. which is bad for his opponent

the last person on earth you want to be fighting is an annoyed albert dasilva who thinks he has something to prove

he works his ass off in camp, and the press tour is a self-assured albert vs. a loudmouth who thinks he’s hot shit cause a few people on twitter think he’ll sweep

and, to be completely honest? it’s starting to look that way 2 rounds in.

it’s a 5 round fight, co-main event on a big card, and so far all al’s opponent has done is pinned him to the cage and kept him there. a few strikes worth anything - at least enough make al’s cheek bleed, no takedowns, which would at least give him some activity, and so submission attempts, so he can’t even gain any ground that way. he’s just- Stuck. and if THIS is how he loses, he’s gonna be pissed

the bell for the second round sounds, and you can actually see al’s chest heaving on camera as he walks to his corner - not because he’s tired or out of breath, but because he’s MAD, and fuck if he’s not going to do something about it

not only that, but he can not only see race and jack standing up by the cage - plus race’s expression, which is slightly annoyed and super anxious, which hurts his chest to think about - but he can hear them too

jack is yelling profanities, as per usual. he doesn’t that regardless of how the fight is going, but it’s less encouraging when you’re the one losing.

race though,,,, race isn’t really yelling, he’s more talking to himself than anything, but he’s close enough to cage and al knows him well enough to figure out what he’s saying. and if the muttered almost-prayers while he paces back and forth weren’t enough, the shiny gold engagement ring on race’s hand definitely is

round 3,,,, let’s just say it goes a little differently than the first 2 had gone.

he opens with a spinning back kick, of all fucking things, and that truly sets the pace

he’s the taller guy by a few inches, like usual, which makes his arms longer. the only reason crushing his against the cage worked is cause the guy he’s fighting cuts weight like a wrestler, so he’s easily got 20 pounds on albert come fight night

but once he finds his rhythm and starts throwing, he starts connecting too. he manages to stay out of range of his opponent and stay his comfortable distance to start t-ing off

this isn’t a one punch power ending. this isn’t a beautiful head kick, or a giant knee, or even just a clean right hook.

this is albert, who’s arms are starting to feel the 3rd round a little bit, hitting this guy with everything he has cause he refuses to lose this fight.

i mean- everyone watched him get up at the start of the round with a set jaw and a scary determined glint in his eye. he’s not a person you fuck with, and he’s definitely not a person you publicly ridicule before being locked in a cage to fight with

the guy he’s fighting is absolutely battered, but he manages to survive until round 4. the first of the championship rounds, something al’s never seen in a ufc fight before, and it feels like the arena is holding its breath

so when al comes out and does the same thing as round 3 to better results - fight ending results - everyone’s a little shocked, honestly

the commentary team’s in disbelief, cause albert is NOT a slow starter, regardless of what this fight would tell you, and the fact he managed a win at all, let alone such a phenomenal one, is fucking astounding

he gets his hand raised, obviously, but the really interesting part is the post fight interview

“albert, man, what changed between round 2 and 3? what second gear did you find?”

“bro, i just— it was pissing me off, honestly. i don’t come in here to get pinned down for 25 minutes. and, y’know, my team gave me good advice. i had all the pieces, straight from the jump, someone just had to force me to put them in place…”

and then he looks over at race, who gives al one of those half grin, half smirks and winks at him, and al just chuckles to himself and finishes answering the question

“the thing that really forced my hand is race. i won’t get cheesy on you, but watching someone who loves and supports you through everything panic cause he’s scared for you - it’s a big motivator. everyone would figure out a lot more of my motivations if they went and watched race’s expressions back instead of whatever the hell i’m doing in here. he’s always been the brains, i’m just the brawn.”

and that’s a better answer than anyone was expecting, plus he’s just had the fight of a lifetime that’s probably earned him a title shot, so he’s done soon after that and gets to have his little in-cage celebration

he hugs his team and jack, who razzes him a little bit as per usual, and makes some dumb quip about going over tapes later like he’s a coach. and then comes race

he hugs him, all tender and cute and also very sweaty cause That’s How It Works, and the camera’s focused on him, so they can tell they’re whispering back and forth. but there’s no mics on them, so what’s said is missed entirely on the audience, but it’s their usual cheesy, in love mess

“congrats, baby. i’m proud of you.”

“oh please. it was 90% you anyway. i meant what i said, it wasn’t just for the cameras.”

“i know that. i’m gonna have to get you back somehow for telling everyone to go back and watch my awful anxious expression. i’ll think of something.”

“i’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

and then al does that awful, adorable lil nose bump thing, and then kisses race. and then jack covers his eyes and whines until they stop like the actual 12 year old boy he is inside

and then they leave the octagon, race and al holding hands, and al throws his arm over jack’s shoulder and shoves his head down and pushes him, cause even though he was just in a literal cage match he’s still a roughhousing teenager at heart

and he’s got interviews and press shit that separates him from his people, and he’s gotta slide that bulletproof mask back down over all the happy and in love shit he’s feeling so he can not smile like an idiot on camera constantly

but every once in awhile he’ll catch jack giving him the finger and laugh before returning it below view of the camera

or he’ll catch race’s eye from where he’s standing behind all the studio lights and do a little wave under the camera and return the wink from earlier, and the unbothered fighter facade will crack a little bit

but he’s not completely convinced that’s such a bad thing

GOD THIS POST IS SO MUCH LONGER THEN I MEANT IT TO BE IM SORRY

but Yeah. Them.

i love this au a helleva lot more than i should but that’s Fine cause i’ve got thoughts for days on it

[fineosaur]

first line game 

thank you for the tags @littlerockerao3 and @salty-wench, i haven’t done one of these in a while and this one was super fun to compile (fair warning this IS quite long)

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). see if there are any patterns. choose your favourite opening line. then tag 10 of your favourite authors.

pieces of you stuck on me (but i’m careless and i’m wicked) -- a rickon x lyanna fwb multichap

He’d woken up alone, something he was often used to, but in the last months, he had grown more accustomed to waking up beside just one particular person. More or less a year if he was being honest with himself. But he wasn’t completely alone either, he was just alone in her bed.

we both coincide (when the world’s wasting time) -- a rickon x lyanna story that shows their relationship spanning over a few years

The moon is already out when he still finds himself at her side. She’s solid and warm in his embrace, swaying lazily with him to the strumming harp and the melodic voice that sing the words that seem to weave their way in his head, taking root as he tries to focus on just being there with her.

in the highlands of our dreams -- a single dad!rickon x lyanna fic that’s a lot on the softer side than my usual work

Most of his life had felt like there was an errant thumb on the fast forward button. At times he knew it had much to do with the way his thoughts often ran too fast, and even with long enough legs to chase them, they just kept their brisk pace. Other times, he wasn’t so much to blame. 

watch me wary -- a rickon x lyanna fic where rickon goes off the grid for a few years and has to come back to face his family (aka rickon’s apology tour)

“You’re late again, kid.”

He rolled his eyes despite the verity in the statement. Pulling off his helmet, he held a hand out to shake the shorter man’s hand. 

watch me wary (prequel) [title in progress] -- set in the stormlands 2 years after rickon leaves home and involves him falling in love with steffon seaworth

There was a feeling between relief and guilt that followed leaving home. Often times thought of as ‘running away’ or ‘disappearing’, at least ‘leaving home’ sounded so much more tempered. 

an empire for two -- a canon-divergent robb x theon & rickon x lyanna fic which involves established throbb and an arranged marriage for lyckon

It was warmer inside the castle. It always was; with the hot water from the springs running through its walls, the castle lived and breathed through each change of season, chilling winters and weeping summers, not buckling for any. 

where the stars do not take sides -- a oneshot set in a canon-divergent setting where rickon x lyanna spend a few last hours of peace together before they return to war

The snow falls around them rather gracefully. There’s often peace in the Godswood, and the distant howls of the wolves do nothing to deter from that. Though nightfall has come and its chill alike, they stand stiffly facing one another. 

be with you -- a rickon x steffon oneshot that shows their relationship as well as how they fell in love

The floor manages to feel warm despite the hour. If he thinks hard enough, he guesses that they’re one of the only two left there. 

His father’s office is littered in papers, stacks of words that blur into one with his boredom. Really what keeps him going is the way the man in front of him continues to push his mop of brown hair back, no matter how many times it falls back into his face as he leans over the glass desk. 

sight for sore eyes -- mixed pov which has tommen pining for rickon who is pining for lyanna — true heather style

There’s a moment of reprieve that comes once the moon has passed its apex. Its scattered light plays amongst the stars that pepper the sky and the hazy streetlights that guide them through the night. 

to feel like gold -- a lyanna x myrcella oneshot where myrcella chooses to indulge in a little rebellion with the girl that’s been on her mind for months

The room is almost too bright for her liking. It hardly fits her resentment. The brisk night air streaming through her windows suits her well enough, rippling over her arms in goosebumps as she feels the frown between her eyebrows deepen.

forest fires -- an arya x gendry oneshot set with a lunar eclipse and a brief moment of repose for the couple

The night’s brisk breeze doesn’t unsettle him like it used to.

It’s still cold though. The wind makes the hair on his arms stand up and he wonders why he hadn’t thought to wear a jumper over his thin cotton t-shirt.

help! -- a stark family -smutty crack fic- that involves ned and cat accidentally stumbling into each one of their kids in precarious situations with their partners

It almost felt like nothing had changed like her children were all still children.  Like they’d never flown the coup. But as she stood there, holding a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice, she knew that a lot had changed, that every one of her kids had grown up, fallen in love and were seemingly happy. It flooded her with such relief to know so, though the still gentle tug at her heart was there, telling her that her babies would no longer run to her begging to be held after a nightmare.  

it’s all hope -- canon compliant robb x theon oneshot that involves a love confession before theon sets off to pyke

Much like the fire within the hearth that beckoned him with its flickering warmth, he felt disquiet within himself.

The air felt thick, far more humid than that of the North’s. He could easily make out the Red Fork by where he stood, pulling at the laces of his tunic. It unsettled him, the rushing water, so fresh, unlike the brine of his home.

take one last look back-- a jon x satin drabble where the couple has a little spat in the car

The wind becomes distracting. With the way it whistles through his ears, blowing at those perfect curls of his, it even makes it abundantly clear how much his eyes sting.

When he leans back in his seat, his eyes meet the rearview mirror, where he can see his grey eyes, dark and stormy, the perfect juxtaposition to the gleaming sun that threatens a headache.

second nature -- a rickon x lyanna drabble that has a drunk rickon confessing his affections for his best friend, lyanna

She’s sitting in her car with one leg crossed when she sees him take a minute to check each side of the road before crossing. It’s 4 am, her car is really the only one on the road.

Her car is flanked on the side of the road and it’s completely unsurprising that his first instinct is to lower himself to her opened window and flash his stupidly white grin at her.

a troubled mind -- a robb x theon oneshot, after his parents’ deaths, robb overloads himself with responsibility and on the verge of falling apart he seeks comfort in the one person who’s always been there for him

He’s never gotten the opportunity to let it all get to him. There’s never been time for it. Not when there’s always been at least one other person that needs the safety his arms provide.

It’s part of being the oldest son, he tells himself far too often.

calmest wave -- an arya x gendry drabble, a post-show canon fix it where the couple are parents in the stormlands

The shattering waves could still be heard, breaking onto the rocky coast of Shipbreaker’s Bay, even from where they walked, with withered leaves crumbling underfoot.

There was tranquillity within the godswood, interspersed by the humidity carried across the Summer Sea and yet he still felt a breeze pick up, cooling him down as he gently held the small hand in his palm.

you were just dancing on your own -- an arya x gendry drabble where arya seeks comfort with gendry after a bad night

It’s still dark when Arya wakes up in her car; windshield covered in a think layer sleet. Her teeth chatter as she pulls her jumper tighter around herself, yellow haze in her eyes from the streetlights.

She’s in the passenger seat of her car, seat pushed back the most it can go. Her heater doesn’t work, no matter how much she bruises her knuckles against the vents.

high, high love -- an arya x gendry oneshot - set in the pieces of you stuck on me universe. after a few years away, arya returns to the man who she’s always loved

She had been back in Winterfell barely two weeks, in a way, things fell into place, though it was in the most disjointed way possible.

Arya found her footing, day by day, acclimating to the changes she had missed, she had to anyway; this was her family, and no matter how much they had changed, how many things she had missed, they made her feel like home, and she  was  back home now, for good.

stubborn-hearted blue -- an arya x gendry oneshot where arya moves into the same building as a man she had a fwb arrangement during her college days

She was still adjusting to life in the new city.

Arya hadn’t been in the Riverlands since university, and at this point, it felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory, more like a dream. But now she had been back for almost a month and boxes still littered her living room, still waiting to be unpacked. between her new job and just trying not to pass out as soon as she was back home, there wasn’t much room for unpacking.

okay WOW i cant believe that managed to date back to over a year. this is pretty much a whole year of my writing summarised in opening lines. 

if it isnt obvious, about half of these have yet to be posted, but this was still fun to give a little teaser for those ones. 

i’ll be tagging @yanak324, @evax3, @selkiedams, @livhatesolives, @lightninginabottle0613, @watersandwolves, @estrangedandwayward, @jeynepoole, @sneetchstar, @treaddelicately, @bobafettsslut, @nalgenewhore

also, hi! enjoy! 

ps, i hope everyone is taking care of themselves and keeping safe x

[chudleycanonficfest]

Dancing Around You

Day 31, Post #2 by @adenei

Title: Dancing Around You

Author: adenei

Pairing: James x Lily

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T 

TW: Some language and mentions of past abuse.

a/n: inspired by the scene in In The Heights when Vanessa and Usnavi go to the club.

*****************

I walk into the corner shop in my neighborhood and see James, Remus and Sirius talking by the counter. The scene causes more annoyance to course through me, which probably stems from the shit mood I’m already in. James and Sirius are supposed to be working, since this is their job. And why isn’t Remus at the broadcast station across the street at his own job?

So what if James owned the shop after it was left to him when his parents passed? Work is still work, and he shouldn’t be skiving off while on shift. I’ve busted my arse day in and day out for the last three years so I could save up to rent a flat in Camden to pursue a career as an interior designer. Moving out of Peckham to a more centralized location will help put me on the map as a well sought after designer.

But that was all for nothing. I’ve just returned from my meeting with the realtor, and despite having enough rent saved up for a whole year, plus the security deposit, he waved me off as if I belonged in the slums! The twat said I needed someone to co-sign a lease with me. Tears sting my eyes as I’m reminded once again of how alone I am. Having walked out at seventeen to escape my parents’ emotional abuse for the last seven years, I had no one to turn to despite the close-knit neighborhood I lived in because this was a secret goal that no one knew about.

I’m sure Marlene’s mum would be more than happy to co-sign a lease with me, but I couldn’t ask that of her. Not when she’s done so much for me already. No, I just need to hold my head high and keep moving forward. I put on my business face and strengthen my resolve, so the boys don’t suspect anything out of the ordinary.

Walking over to the fridge, I grab a Fanta and a Coke for Mrs. McKinnon. When I left the office earlier for my appointment, she asked me to bring one back. Now, I have to return to my job as her secretary at her own Real Estate office and try not to resent every client who walks in the door. When I shut the refrigerator door and turn to head to the register, I see James leaning against the glass of another fridge door.

When the hell did he creep up on me?

“Evans, how’s it going?”

“It’s been better.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

For a moment, I think about letting him in. I open my mouth to say something, but change my mind at the last second.

“You wish.”

“Right, well, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Narrowing my eyes, I observe James. We’ve been friends for years, and it’s a friendship I cherish more than anything. He’s always been there to make me laugh, to match my sarcasm and wit, and he’s never been afraid to go toe-to-toe with me. I know him well, almost as well as I know myself, but I’m not expecting his question or the butterflies that flutter in my stomach in response.

I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive. His perpetual bedhead, black hair and piercing yet kind hazel eyes have always stood out to me. It’s no secret that he’s fit from lifting boxes all day and playing on a club football team in his free time. But I’ve never allowed myself to think there could be anything more between us besides friendship.

So, why does it feel like he’s asking me out? Am I misreading the signs? I decide to keep the ball in his court to get a better read on his intentions.

“I’m going dancing with Marlene and Mary,” I reply, keeping my voice cool and collected.

“Oh, sounds like fun.” He glances down at the bottles in my hands. “All set, then?”

I nod, and If I’m not mistaken, his shoulders slump as he turns to head back to the counter. Should I have invited him and the guys to join us? Before I can ponder it further, Sirius cuts me off and pushes me back into the aisle.

“You and the girls are going dancing? That sounds like fun. I’d bet my buddy over there would love to join you.” He raises his eyebrows as if willing me to catch his subtle hint, which I do.

“Wait, was James just trying to ask me out tomorrow?”

Sirius shrugs. “Probably, but you two have been friends forever, and despite his smooth-talking with most females, he seems to get tongue-tied around you.”

A burst of laughter bubbles out of me. “James? Tongue-tied? Around me? What are you smoking?”

“Nothing, Evans. Just pointing out a fact.”

Fine, if Sirius is going to pester me about this, I will prove him wrong. I brush past him toward James so I can pay for the drinks and be on my way. Sliding a couple pounds to James over the counter, I smirk at him.

“You know, Potter, I could use a dancing partner tomorrow night. Pick me up at eight?”

His head snaps up, and he looks shocked before a goofy smile replaces the surprise on his face. “Er, yeah, alright. I mean, if you’re sure—”

Cutting him off, I put him out of his misery. “Great, see you then.”

The following evening, we’re walking into Alohomora, the most popular nightclub in Peckham. My friends and I frequent the club at least once a month. I love its mix of neons glowing amongst the blacklights and the worn leather benches framing the booths around the perimeter of the dance floor. It’s come to feel like a second home to me.

Dancing is an outlet for my frustrations. I love letting the music consume my soul as the loud thumps of the bass vibrate through my body as I spin on the floor. Tonight will be no different, except that James is with me. As my date. At least, I think he’s my date. Neither of us have actually talked about what this is.

“Wow, I haven’t been here in ages. Have they changed the layout recently?” James asks.

“Not that I can recall,” I wave his question off as I hear a number of people shout my name in greeting.

“I didn’t realize how popular you were here, Evans. I’m impressed.”

“Impressed by what? It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have more friends than you three. I hope that doesn’t make you jealous.” My playful banter is accompanied by a smirk as James laughs.

“Me? Jealous? Of course not. Care for a drink first?”

“Sure.”

Usually, I’d prefer to dance a bit first, but I don’t want to drag James onto the dance floor if he doesn’t want to. I’m not even sure if he enjoys dancing since I’ve never seen him here before. He’s flagging down the bartender when someone calls to me.

“Lily! Hey, Lily!” Terry Fawcett is pushing his way through the crowded dance floor. “Wanna dance?”

He holds out his hand when he reaches me, but I shake my head.

“Sorry, Ter, I’m here with someone else tonight.”

James turns as he overhears the interaction and waves me on. He contorts his face in a weird, ‘trying to be chill, but still looks sort of pained’ way.

“It’s alright, Evans, go ahead.”

I’m taken aback. Maybe we really weren’t on a date. “But—are you sure?”

“Yeah, just save one for me later.”

“Oh, well, alright.”

My hand falls into Terry’s even though I’m not certain I want to dance with him. There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m not used to as I walk away from James. It’s ridiculous, but I think I’m actually disappointed that James passed me off so easily. And I’m just as mad at Sirius for even putting the thought that James might fancy me in my head because it’s all I’ve been able to think about since yesterday afternoon.

Well, there’s only one way to find out once and for all if he cares. Make him jealous.

I dance as I’ve never danced before when the music changes to an upbeat Latin tune. I spin around the floor, dancing with Terry before I’m passed off to other men that I’ve danced with once or twice in the past. It takes everything in my power to not steal glances at James, but I do catch when his baffled look turns dark as he begins to scowl at the men who are practically lined up to dance with me.

By the time he does walk out to the dance floor to cut in, I’m exhausted. He pulls me into his arms, but I’m still annoyed that he’s waited this long.

“Potter, I need a break.”

I pull away from him and walk toward the bar, where Sirius holds two drinks in his hands. I grab one and slam it down, shoving the glass into his chest once it’s empty. Then, I turn and head for the exit to get some air. It’s much quieter on the street, save for the ambient sounds of traffic in the background, a stark contrast to inside the club. I lean against the wall as I catch my breath and watch the cars go by.

The door to the club opens, and the music splits the night air as James steps out.

“Evans, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

What? Is he angry? Good. Let him be angry.

“You! You ask me to come with you, spend all night dancing with other blokes, and then when I try to cut in, you ditch me.”

A derisive bark escapes my lips as I push off the wall and step closer to him, matching his stance.

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on me, Potter. You’re the one who pushed me away! I would have been perfectly happy dancing with you all night, but no, you sat back and watched as I danced with everyone else.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do!?”

He can’t be serious right now, playing the victim and passing this onto me. There’s no way I’m letting him get away with this. I step even closer, thankful that my heels bring me closer to eye level with him, so it’s more of an even match.

“I don’t know, put your arm around me and tell the bloke to fuck off? That I’m taken?”

“Are you taken?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Our breathing is heavy, chests heaving as our noses are a hair’s width apart. All I can focus on is the intensity in his eyes, the gold flecks burning like the flames in a fire. I wait for him to say something, or do something, anything except stare at me. I give him more than enough time, and he doesn’t make a move, so I decide that I’m done.

As much as I don’t want to, I break eye contact and turn away. I’m not in the mood to stay out, so I begin the walk home. James and I are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be, but that doesn’t stop me from cursing Sirius for putting the thought that we could be more in my head. Because now that I’ve accepted the thought, I’m not sure I want to stay friends. But it’s clear now, this wasn’t meant to be anything special, and I was stupid for thinking it could be.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Light Disorientation

Azula Week Day 2: Azula Rare Pairs

Summary: Sometimes things distort in her mind. Sometimes she confuses the past with the present. Sometimes when she does, she is ugly in her mind.

Warnings: Mental Health Issues & Body Image Issues

Azula is not comfortable in her skin, more often than not it absolutely crawls. It helps very little that she is surrounded by such beautiful people. Katara with her mesmerizingly bright blue eyes and her deep complexion, Toph and her confident and charming smile, Suki and her toned arms and soft skin, Mai and her tall and elegantly willowy figure and TyLee with her...well, everything. Sokka has his muscular arms and a new collection of traditional Water Tribe tattoos. She doesn’t see Zuko’s appeal in the slightest but he has a vast crowd of giggling admirers. And while Aang isn’t exactly a looker, he’s got his heroics and his lovable mannerisms.

Perhaps, just a few years ago, in her prime, she had been something to look at and envy. But now...now she doesn’t want to look at herself even in passing. Her eyes have a bruised appearance, they are nowhere near as vivid as they had been. Her tangled locks aren’t so silky nor shiny. Her skin is drier somehow. In general, she thinks that she is muted, duller. She is hollow, her robes have a tendency to slide down her shoulders, more so than usual. And, unlike Aang, she doesn’t have a personality to make up for it. She isn’t approachable and endearing, her talents are terrifying. She has her itelligence but that never seems to matter anymore especially on the days when the clutter in her mind is too heavy for deep and critical thinking.  

She doesn’t like going on outings with the rest of them, no matter how well and forgivingly they treat her. She looks sloppy without the side by side comparison. With it...she cringes. Tonight she has subjected herself to the tortures of inferiority. TyLee had been so cheerful about the prospect of going to a party with her. The first one they’ve attended in ages. And she’d flashed that bright and cheerful little smile. That was all it had taken.

She is dressed as finely as she can be, but she doesn’t think that the outfit does her the favors she was hoping for and no amount of makeup seems to bring life to her expression. She is exceptionally dull with TyLee to her right and Katara to her left.

And by the middle of the party, they all have their own personal crowds. All except she. Azula’s stomach tickles with a discomfort that won’t seem to pass. She wishes that she was still beautiful or that she had some social graces. She wishes that she hadn’t let herself go so terribly far.

People pay her very little attention. And maybe she should be thankful for that. It means that they aren’t ridiculing her. That they aren’t informing her of things that she already knows, of the flaws she already sees.

She wishes that she had gotten better sleep, that she hadn’t chopped her bangs off, that she could muster up a better appetite, that she hadn’t started slacking on her training…

“Hi.”

She stares at her palms. She looks up to see that none of the crowds have dispersed, she wonders if she will ever get an opening to let one of the gang know that she is leaving. She thinks that she will slip out soon, they can find her at home.

She hears the clearing of her throat, “hello-o.”

Azula spares a glace over her shoulder.

The girl behind her waves, her face glows with a smile.

“What?”

The girl hums, “well you’re clearly the life of this party.” She drops down onto the couch next to her anyhow. “Is that why you’re alone?”

What a rude question. But it isn’t exactly untrue; she thinks that, among many other things, it is why she is alone now and always. She shrugs, “I guess. Probably.”

The girl rubs the back of her head. “Geez.”

Azula looks away from her again. Perhaps the girl will leave her alone if she doesn’t speak anymore. She isn’t so lucky. “Have you tried talking to anyone?”

Azula shakes her head.

“Why  not?”

She almost snapes, ‘because people ask too many questions.’ She only shrugs again and after a few moments she replies, “I guess that I don’t know what to say. People aren’t interested in Fire Nation history and battle strategizing.” They probably don’t want to be seen with someone so messy either.

“There are so many people here, you’re bound to find someone else that is.”

“Are you?”

“Nope,” the girl yawns, “boring.”

Azula’s face falls.

“But I’ll still listen if that’s what you want to talk about.”

She doesn’t want to talk about it. Or any of her other weird, and uninteresting interests.

“I’m Seicho, by the way.”

Azula nods, “why are you talking to me?”

“Well… you see, I recognize you. A while ago, before the war ended, there was a moment that has been haunting me ever since…”

Azula isn’t sure that she is following.

“And I had a few questions.”

“Such as?”

“You are princess Azula, right?”

She nods, though she wishes that she weren’t.

“And you did attend Chan’s beach party, right? That was you? The weirdo who laughs really loud and sets kuai ball nets on fire?”

Azula’s frown deepens. “What of it?”

“I just wanted to know why you put that drink on my head.”

“Your hands were full, where else was I supposed to put it?” It was quite simple really.

The girl laughs, “you could have held onto it or set it on some random table or something.”

She clears her throat, “your head was more convenient.”

“I...I guess…?” she laughs again. She stands up and for some reason Azula’s heart sinks. She thought that she might not be lonely tonight, but the girl has her answers and now she is...she is extending her hand out? Azula furrows her brows. “Do you know how to dance, princess?”

“I haven’t had a chance or a reason to learn.”

“It’s not that different from firebending, I’ll teach you a little something.” She offers.

If she knows what is good for her, she would stay out of the spotlight, keep attention well away from herself. The last thing that she needs is the entire party watching her decrepit body running clumsily through dance moves that she should have learned prior to attending. But she doesn’t want to be alone tonight. She isn’t sure what she will do if she is left alone…

She takes the girl’s hand. Azula doesn’t really want the attention. Not at all. The less eyes that take in her less than pleasing aesthetic, the better. But Seicho is a loud one. A bold one. And when she dips Azula back and pulls her up in time with the music for a third time she makes an announcement.

“I’m lucky!” She declares. “I have the prettiest dance partner in the room.”

She brushes Azula’s bangs out of her face--even, well trimmed bangs. Long bangs. And suddenly the illusion shatters. Suddenly her skin is soft with an even complexion. Suddenly her eyes aren’t so heavy and tired. Her frame is fuller and her lips uncracked. She remembers that she hasn’t been haggard and unhealthy in quite some time now. She remembers that sometimes things get distorted in her mind, that the past may layer itself over the future. She remembers that she is no longer fourteen and bound in chains. No longer sixteen and freshly emerging from an institution, exhausted and low.

She remembers that she is happy. This time when she looks in the mirror, the face that stares back at her is from the present; well groomed, healthy, and lively--albeit on the tired side tonight.

“Are you alright?” Seicho asks.

She thinks that she is, she is just...lightly disoriented. She needs a chance for her mind to catch back up to the present.  “I want to sit down for a moment.”

“Sure, princess.” Seicho replies, she guides Azula into a chair. “Would you like a drink?”

Azula nods.

They don’t hate her. Most people don’t. Most people are as indifferent as they ought to be. And they eyes that fall upon her aren’t judgmental, they are curious more than anything. She still isn’t a particularly social person, paradoxically, it is an invitation for more attention when she does attend parties.

Seicho holds out the glass, “just put it on the table this time, not my head, okay.”

“I think that I can manage.” She sips at the drink as the pieces shift back into place. She supposes that she should have known that she was having an off day when she overheard Zuko ask TyLee and Mai to keep an eye on her.

“So, what’s going on?” Seicho asks.

“Sometimes I…” She sets her drink aside. “Things get mixed up.” She points at her head. “I’m sure that you’ve heard by now…”

“Bits and pieces.” Seicho admits.

“Sometimes it feels like…” she furrows her brows, trying to articulate it. “Sometimes I go back to some of my worst days. Sometimes it’s full scale--I’m alone and I don’t have any friends. It feels like it anyhow. Other times it’s more of a blend.”

“A blend?”

“I know that they,” she gestures to the others, “are my friends.” It still feels strange to say, likely that is exactly what makes it so easy to forget when her head is not clear. “But I still feel like I did just after I was transferred to that facility.” Sometimes the image is so vivid in her mind that it appears in the mirror.

Seicho nods. “That sounds frightening.”

“I’m used to it.” It is a lie to make things less tense. Pity makes her uncomfortable anyhow.

“And that happened tonight?”

Azula nods. “It is a relief to know that I’m not a scraggly mess.” That she isn’t ugly and embarrassing to be around.

“It’s fine to be a scraggly mess sometimes.” Seicho replies.

“You didn’t see my haircut.” She grumbles.

“I’m sure that it was cute.” Seicho insists, ruffling her hair. “You have a pretty face, you can make it work.”

She shakes her head, “not then I didn’t.”

Seicho quirks a skeptical brow. She changes her approach. “Alright, fine, let’s say that you’re right…”

“I am right.”

“My point still stands. It’s okay to be a mess every now and again.” As if to accent her point she ruffles Azula’s hair entirely out of place. Azula grimances, this is something that she is still working on. Something that leaves her jittery.

“How about this?” Seicho offers. “You leave your hair like this for the rest of the night. If people treat you like shit for it then you can stick with your ridiculous standards.

“Ridiculous!?”

Seicho nods, “yes, ridiculous.”

Azula opens her mouth to protest. Seicho puts a finger to her lips. “You know what I think?”

Azula sighs, she has heard it so many times before from so many people from her therapist to TyLee. “That I’m perfect the way I am.”

Seicho crinkles her brows in disgust. “No! I think that you aren’t perfect, but it doesn’t really matter. You don’t have to be. If someone really loves or cares about you, they’ll look at your ugly haircut and decide that they like your pretty eyes enough to stay. They’ll acknowledge that you are uptight and cranky but they’ll stick around because you’re really smart and loyal.”

Azula swallows. “You’ve known me for maybe an hour…”

“And you leave some strong first impressions.” Seicho shrugs. “I was hoping that we can talk more after the party and I can see if I’m right.”

Azula’s stomach flutters. She has never been asked on a date before and she certainly hadn’t anticipated that to happen tonight. Agni knows that her lost and hurt fourteen year old self could have never conceptualized such a thing.

“That would be nice, Seicho.”

The girl grins. “Wonderful! Are you up for another dance?”

She lets the girl lead her back onto the dancefloor. Hair messy, dress slightly disheveled. And yet she feels much more confident than she had when she’d initially walked into the party.

[daydreamingintheimpalax]

Unexpected

Prompt: “what happened to your clothes?”  “I think i’m falling in love with you.” “I think ive always known, deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.” 

Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, somewhat detailed sex scene, iunno not much really. 

A/N: Sorry it’s so long, i had this idea and thought it’d be a fun read. Enjoy :)

Dean sat on your bed, mindlessly watching and waiting as you hid in your closet, dress after dress, skirt after skirt flying out, one almost hitting him in the face. He caught it mid air before tossing it down next to him. 

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, its just a few drinks at the bar, Max already knows you, you dont need to impress him, he already likes you.” Dean spoke, watching as you popped out from your closet, three different shirts in your hands.

Dean was your best friend, you had met him and Sam as a child, your fathers had been hunting partners for a few years, always leaving you and the boys at bobby’s to cause trouble for the old man. You could still hear bobby’s voice sometimes, demanding Dean stop influencing you with his schemes. 

His buddy Max had run into him at the bar last week while you guys had stopped in during a hunt and they had caught up for hours, you had connected with Max off the bat, and when he’d asked you out, you were skeptical, see deep down you always knew Dean was your guy, your never ending crush on him had turned into deeper feelings years ago, you tried to deny it for years, and definitely never told him, but when Dean had convinced you to give it a shot, go out on ONE date with a guy he knew and liked, you gave in, never being able to say no to him, i mean, to be fair you hadn’t been with a man in over 2 years and you could use a night out, maybe even some quality time in bed with a good looking guy, plus, Dean trusted him, and that was enough.

“Dean, i haven’t been out with a guy in 2 years, i’m not going out with a guy looking like a swamp monster, first dates are everything, and looking your best can make or break the date.” You huffed, holding out a shirt to him for an opinion, he shook his head, grimacing. 

“First, you never look like a swamp monster, you’re stunning no matter what, you hardly have to work at that, secondly, that’s an old ratty tshirt you stole from me, really?” He pointed at it, now realizing he was right, why the hell you were even suggesting this. It was time to pull out the big guns. You sighed, hiding back into your closet, you had to have something date worthy. 

Dean had popped away, grabbing himself a beer, giving himself a break from outfit advice. You were his best friend and he wanted nothing more than to see you happy, even if it meant trusting Max to take you out on a date. It was one date, it’s not like he was stealing you away forever. He had always had a soft spot for you, you were his first kiss as a kid and he’d looked out for you ever since, and even though he trusted Max, seeing you get all worked up over a guy that wasn’t him still didn’t settle well with him, but he shoved his feelings down and tried to be as supportive as he could. 

He walked back into your room, realizing you were finally working on your makeup, you were slightly bent over your bathroom sink, reaching closer to the mirror as you did your eyeliner, truth be told, he loved when you did that black wing thing, it enhanced your big E/C eyes and drove him nuts everytime. He looked you over, realizing what you finally had chosen to put on, a shorter than he’d like black leather mini skirt, a matching leather shirt thing that looked similar to a bra more than anything. He cleared his throat. 

“What happened to your clothes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You finish your eyeliner before walking past him, fetching lipstick out of your little makeup bag before making your way back to your bathroom, “What do you mean? Theyre fine.” You spoke, applying your lipstick as he piped up.

“I mean like, where’s the rest of it?” he sassed and you rolled your eyes as you walked back into the room. “It’s not that bad is it? It’s literally all i can find that isn’t covered in holes, old blood or stained monster guts.” You looked down at yourself, smoothing out your skirt. Dean cleared his throat as he eyed you properly, trying hard to calm his way out of a boner. 

“Uh, no, no i’m just teasing, you look incredible.” He smiled, nodding, you shoot him a innocent smile, “Better, Winchester. Much better, right answer.” You shoot him a small wink and he chuckles. He had come a long way on talking to women because of her, she helped him realize as a teenager and a young man that he didn’t need to be vulgar or gross to pick up women and he’d learned a long time ago thanks to her that chivarly was key.

He watched as she put on her coat, Max waiting by the door to take her out, she gave him a little wave as she told him not to wait up, she’d be fine. 

“Be safe, have fun.” He smiled as she walked out the door, his internal groan coming out of his mouth and he kicked himself for being too scared to ever make a move himself. He’d liked her since they were teenagers, but he was too stubborn to do anything, his fathers voice telling him hunter relationships never worked. 

       ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night had been a blast so far, you and Max were having a great time chatting, dancing and enjoying each others company at the bar, he was sweet, nice and had a good view on life and hunting. He told you entertaning stories, some even involved moments he and Dean shared as young teenagers hunting together, being boys and trying to get girls, Max pranking Dean. They had a good friendship and you were happy Dean had someone besides you and Sam he could pal around with. 

You had moved to his truck a while ago, the mix of alcohol and pure need affecting you both as you made out like teenagers, the windows began steaming up, it was an unusually warm evening in lebanon and you were thankful you wore this outfit or would have soaked right through it from the heat. 

His hand moved freely on your thigh and you straddled him, his back against the backseat of his pick up with you on his lap, dry humping him like some silly teenage girl who hadn’t had sex yet, you made the first move, desperate to feel a mans touch, it had been so long. 

You yank your top off, nothing but some nipple covers to cover your exposed breasts, Max lets out a soft moan, “Beautiful,” he mumbles while he kisses softly around your skin, he slowly peels off the covers off you and his mouth lands on your nipple and you let out a louder Moan than you want to but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

Before you know it, your both down to nothing but your underwear, you reach down and pull down his boxers, reaching a hand in and grabbing him and placing him at your entrance, you’re already so turned on you don’t need foreplay tonight, not when you’re this sexually frustrated. 

You sink down on him slowly, and you both moan out, yours comes out as more of a shout, and you begin to move, slowly at first before changing into a soft but faster bounce, he’s making sounds, you know that for fact but you’re so distracted by the feeling of pure pleasure you haven’t felt in so long you aren’t even fully aware of what’s happening, you let out a shout, and before you know what’s happening, it all suddenly just stops.

You come back to reality and notice Max has pushed you off, he’s pulling his pants back on and avoiding your eye. Oh for fuck sakes, you haven’t even came close to your release and Dean set you up with a 2 minute one pump chump. You were going to kick his ass. 

“What’s wrong? are you done already?” you ask, his looks at you, letting out an exasperated huff before licking his lips and shaking his head. “I’m sorry Y/n, i don’t think this is going to work out, besides, you shouldn’t really sleep with a guy if you’re not going to rememember his name.” He scolds, glaring at you before he shoves his shirt on and climbs out the back, you put your skirt and shirt back on, deciding to skip the panties all together.

“Hey! I do remember your name, it’s Max, i’m not stupid!” You yell at him, angry now that he would even suggest that. Max turns to you, glaring, “Oh yeah, then next time maybe you should try screaming my name out and not Dean’s, jesus christ y/n, if you want him that bad just go fuck him, i doubt he’ll say no!” He shouts and you stand frozen. 

“What? Dean?, i didn’t...I don’t-” you stutter, he cuts you off. “It’s kind of obvious y/n, you screamed his name for a reason, you obviously have lingering feelings for him, and im not going to be your pitty fuck.” He sighs, he ushers you into the passenger seat, offering to drive you home in what is the most uncomfortabe, quiet, embrassing drive home ever. 

You slam the bunker door closed, worst date ever. You make your way past Dean and Sam in the library as you try your hardest to avoid them, especially Dean, you were embarassed enough, you didn’t need to face him right now, and you sure as hell hoped Max kept his mouth shut about it too.

“Y/N? That you? “ You hear Dean call out but you avoid answering, flying past them to your room before slamming the door shut. 

Dean’s eyebrows furrow.

“I guess the date didn’t go well then.” Sam speaks out, looking over at Dean. He shrugs, before getting up and walking towards your room

He knocks on the door softly, “Y/n, you okay? did Max do something cause if he did i’ll beat the living crap outta him.” He calls out, he can hear your sniffle, he sighs, before softly opening your door. You’re cuddled up in bed, watching your favorite episode of golden girls as you cry softly. He sighs and heads over, sitting on your bed. 

“Bad date?” He asks and you shrug, “Something like that.” He gives you a soft smile. “Want to talk about it?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, i just wanna forget it.” You speak, he notices you never meet his eye. He nods and agrees to leave it alone, he joins you quietly, watching tv with you but giving you your space. When you finally fall asleep, he goes to bed himself, but not before shooting Max a text. 

“Whatever the fuck you did man, she’s upset, and if i find out you hurt her, i’ll kill you.” 

                                                      ---------

It’s two weeks later when things finally come out, you haven’t spoken to Max since that night of your date. The bar is busier than usual, a few more college kids then there usually is but it is spring break, most of them are probably home for the much needed time away from school work. 

Dean is at the pool tables, hussling some airhead jock out of pool money. You watch and laugh when he heads over to you, cash in hand. 

“Ha ha, stupid brainless jocks. Always so much fun seeing how much of daddy’s money i can get out of them.” He chuckles, setting the money back in his pocket. You roll your eyes but smile. Why did you put up with this dork. 

Before you know it, someone is calling out for Dean. “Yo, Dean!” You both turn to spot Max, waving Dean over for a game. You swallow, nervous that the details of your date will come out, you still weren’t fully over it, and you dreaded Dean ever finding out, he’d never let you live it down and he really didn’t need a bigger ego. Luckily Max hadn’t noticed you yet. 

Dean motions he’ll play one round and be right back and you try to give him a smile, dreading this inside. Just don’t ask him about the date, you interally tell him, even though he’s long gone and can’t hear it. 

You sip your drink, asking for another one and you try to keep your cool at those two being in the same room all of a sudden. 

                                                      -----------

One game had turned into 4 and before you knew it, the two guys had captured a crowd, some betting on Max and some on Dean. It was becoming a friendly competition between the two boys. 

“Aw come on Max, don’t be a sore loser, i’m sure you can come back from that.” Dean teases, watching as Max lines up his next shot. 

“Easy for you to say Winchester, tell me, do you ever get sick of being a pompous prick?” Max winks at him and Dean smiles, “Eh, Sometimes, but then i remember how fun it is to watch you lose and its all worth it.” Dean chuckles, Max suddenly isn’t in a joking mood and he shoots, it goes in, he gets a few more and Dean’s actually surprised. 

“Not bad, man. You’re getting better.” Dean smirks, “Still no match for me though, i always win.” Dean leans in, takes a shot and gets his last three balls in, He lines up with the 8 ball, looks up at Max, and smirks, then his eyes find you, sitting behind Max a few tables down and he shoots you a wink, before sinking in his ball. Game over. 

Max turns around, realizing who Dean winked at, he turns back around, slamming his pool stick down. “Good game, I’m done, guess you won Dean, you got the money, and the one girl i’ve liked in a really long time, guess you always do win, huh?” He spits out, a bitter tinge to his voice. He scoffs and walks away.

Dean’s suddenly confused, what the hell was he talking about. He looks over at you, you’re watching the television over the bar, no clue what had just happened, he follows Max outside catching him before he reaches his truck.

“Hey! I didn’t get anything, if this is about y/n, you screwed that up on your own, okay? I had nothing to do with that!” Dean shouts. Max laughs and turns to face him. “Oh bullshit Dee, you have everything to do with it!” He sneers, “I really liked her man, she was cool, but like always, Dean Winchester always gets the girl!” He scoffs, making Dean frown, confused. 

“Y/n isn’t mine! she’s my friend, whatever you did to piss her off on your date was your problem, she didn’t tell me what you did but if you wanted her that bad, you had the chance to fix it!”

“REALLY DEE? Tell me, how the fuck would you fix the girl you like screaming your best friends name in bed when shes with you? Huh? How the fuck do i fix her thinkng about you while she’s fucking me?” He swallows, “Man, forget it, you wouldn’t understand, god forbid that ever happened to you.” He spits, before he’s in his truck, driving away. Dean’s still standing there, more confused than ever.

He finally makes it back inside, his eyes roaming around for you. He finds you in the same spot, the female bar tender chatting with you and making you laugh. Your eyes find him, beckoning him over and he moves.

He finally reaches you and you smile, “I got you another beer. How did the game go? You disappeared.” You ask, and he stares at you, he finally pipes up, and your heart sinks. Oh no. Please no.

“Max seemed very upset when he saw you, what happened on your date again? Why didn’t you ever go out with him again?” He asks, you take a sip of your beer and shrug. “I dunno, he wasn’t my type, just didn’t work out.” You bite your lip, hoping to god he lets this go, you don’t need to relive that embarassing moment. 

He nods, taking a drink of his own beer, “Okay, so he just wasn’t your type, that’s all? It had nothing to do with you screaming my name in the middle of sex?” He calmly points out and you nearly choke on your beer, spitting beer across the bar table, everyone close by stares at you, you turn red, apologizing and grabbing napkins to clean up your mess. 

You turn and face Dean, “He fucking told you!” Dean raises an eyebrow, “In a not so nice way, so it’s true? You really did?” He smirks and you bury your face in your hands, “Oh god...” You call out and when you look back up Dean’s cheesy grin is staring back at you, “Actually, apparently it’s Oh Dean.”

You throw a nice solid punch into his shoulder before you run out of the bar, “Y/n...y/n wait!” Dean calls out but you’re already half way across the bar and out the door. He throws down some cash and chases after you, catching you half way down the road.

“Y/n...” He calls out, “Just leave me alone Dean, i knew you would use this against me, i knew it. You’re a jerk.” You wipe away a tear, he finally reaches you and grabs your arm, turning you to face him. 

“Hey, i didn’t mean to upset you, i’m sorry, i just, i was surprised, that’s all.” He sighs, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought Max was the one who hurt you or something.” He speaks softly and you sniffle. 

“it’s embarassing, i didn’t even know i did it, i was so into it and then he just stopped, for a second i thought he’d already, you know, i was disappointed then we got into an argument about it and he took me home.” You shrugged. 

Dean nodded, he was quiet for a while, and then he spoke, revealing something that made even you question if you were drunk.

“I uh, i guess i wasn’t expecting to hear that, and i guess i got a little excited cause iunno i just, i think i’m falling in love with you, and when Max told me i just uh, i guess i was hopeful that maybe it meant you felt the same.” He swallows before going quiet, watching your reaction carefully. 

You nodded, frowning as you realised you weren’t dreaming, Dean loved you, Dean Winchester loved you.

“I think i’ve always known, Deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.” You shrug, “Every since we shared our first kiss, i think part of me has loved you ever since.” You smile, finally meeting Dean’s eyes, the grin on his face tells you all you need to know, this man is crazy about you, always has been.

“oh yeah?” He smiles, reaching out to grab you, you chuckle, leaning up and placing a slow, deep kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, what can i say, you’re just my type.” You smirk and Dean laughs. 

“Well then, why don’t we get back home and i’ll give you a real reason to scream my name.” He smirks, leaning down quite a bit to place wet warm kisses along your exposed neck. 

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” You roll your eyes, he meets them and a sexy grin appears on his face. 

“Not a chance.” 

[shimmersing]

Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

“Ah, Lieutenant!” Erithon swallowed hard against the wave of apprehension that was gathering in his throat as Duke Organa flagged him down. “A most splendid representative of our allies in the Republic. Come!”

He managed not to squirm like a cadet when the Duke clapped him on the shoulder, turning him toward the ballroom’s grand stairway. It wasn’t that he didn’t like parties. This was just a few steps away from the usual military shindig: salute a few times, don’t spill anything on the dress uniform. Nobility wasn’t that far removed from the brass, right? Same kind of handshake deals that meant something a little different to each party, and something else altogether for the people under them. He shrugged inside the stiff sleeves of his jacket, not exactly uncomfortable, just… unfamiliar. It fit fine. But it didn’t feel quite right. Like this whole scene.

“Ah, excellent,” Organa drawled, slowing as a commotion drew everyone’s attention. Flashes sparkled as various holocams swarmed like killiks around the newest arrival. The duke glanced sidelong at Erithon while the soldier craned his neck to get a better view, squinting past the glare.

He knew – obviously; he wasn’t a complete nerf herder – that it would be his Jedi, the same way he knew when a blaster was about to overheat. He just knew. Was that how the Force worked? He didn’t think so, and a question like that seemed so utterly childish he almost laughed aloud. Would she, if he asked? Nah, she wouldn’t. She’d smile and offer him a gentle analogy like that morning, when he’d gathered enough nerve to ask her how he came to be sitting next to her on the transport and not in a body bag.

“Force healing is…” Aitahea had replied, their shoulders nudging companionably as the transport rumbled back toward the palace, “…hard to explain.” Her cheeks had flushed a little, the darting glance from below her lowered lashes full of shy apology. “But I’ll try.” She’d explained her method, which to him didn’t sound all that different from any other medical scanner he’d been in, only a lot more pleasant if his experience was any example.

“My sister on Brentaal is a nurse. Thought it was a little funny when we were younger. We always had medical droids to take care of everything, right?” The Jedi had bobbed her head, eager to hear his next thought. “But after I woke up in a kolto tank the first time alone, I mean, no personnel…” He’d flailed for some explanation of the isolation he’d felt, but it had been hard to recall while her shoulder had been jostling against his. He’d shrugged, grinned, and continued, “Now I think I prefer seeing someone friendly on waking.”

She’d gazed at him with a solemn wonder that had quickened his breath, had him doing everything he could to memorize the ever-so-slight parting of her lips before they curled into a smile.

Just like they did now.

Erithon was so preoccupied with following her gaze that the sudden smile blooming in his direction took his breath away. Again. Aitahea was resplendent. Gossamer enshrouded, bound hair freed from utilitarian plaits and tumbling over her bare shoulders – he throttled back a ridiculous urge to elbow Duke Organa and point out that she had shoulders, and weren’t they nice, too?

Organa smoothed his hands over his lapels, looking pleased with himself, while Erithon struggled to recall his higher vocabulary. “I expect the press will want a holo of our heroes.”

“A holo of-” he began, but she floated over to them right then, luminous and exquisite. It became quite clear who the press would want a holo of. The Jedi offered the duke a generous curtesy, and Erithon found his looming panic - particularly at the words “press” and “holo” - replaced by fascination with the way her earrings brushed against her jawline. Duke Organa caught her hands as she rose and enfolded her in a paternal embrace.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful,” Erithon heard Aitahea whisper to the duke.

“Superb timing, my dear.” The duke’s eyes crinkled merrily around an affectionate smile. He turned to nod at Erithon, adroitly pressing one of Aitahea’s hands into his, then stepped expertly into the background with a final, grand pronouncement: “Our Paladins!”

A cascade of flashes set Erithon’s vision shimmering, but training swiftly rose to meet unfamiliarity, and he managed to remain stoic even as his heart clanged wildly against his ribs. Clever fellow, that Organa, he mused, and with a smirk as bold as he could muster, he deftly hooked his arm under the Jedi’s hand and guided her away from the press. The Duke’s laughter echoed through the hall behind them, but Erithon couldn’t hear it and wouldn’t have cared anyway; he was busy memorizing the sound of her restrained giggle at his shoulder.

“That was a bold move, diplomatically speaking, Lieutenant,” she said playfully, drawing them to a stop to hold him at arm’s length. Flashes sparkled again, unnoticed by either. Her scrutiny didn’t bother him, and it did give him an opportunity to reciprocate.

“You’re… you look amazing,” he breathed, unable to push his awe aside. She could have been a daughter of any of the noble houses on Alderaan, only she couldn’t because none of them were as radiant, as otherworldly. She couldn’t, because even without her lightsaber (that he could tell, anyway), she remained a veritable force of nature. Unexplainable and irreplaceable, flushed cheeks and wide eyes and little white flowers caught up in her hair. Because when he’d said something as trite as ‘you look amazing’ her eyes lit up like she’d never heard anyone say it before this.

“Pardon me, Master Jedi? Lieutenant?” A fidgeting Haley Organa interrupted as politely as possible, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’re ready for you.”

Erithon blinked, overwhelmed with the sudden lurching feeling that he hadn’t studied for a test. Hadn’t he just deftly navigated them out of this nonsense? “For…us?”

Before the young page’s nervousness could escalate to panic, Aitahea intervened: “An introduction. The formal presentation. It’s mostly for the holonet, so they can put a name with your holo, and hopefully spell it correctly.” Her brows lowered, and he caught a glimpse of solemn concern behind her light tone. “It shouldn’t be unlike one of your military events.”

He inclined his head, discomfort ebbing away. He didn’t think it was a Jedi thing, not this time. “Smile, but not too much.”

“Just so,” she replied softly, reaching up to brush away some unseen particle from his collar. He straightened, willing his face back into a mask of quiet confidence. Her own features settled into practiced serenity, but her eyes, fixed on his, danced.

Just another kind of battlefield.

[BREAK HERE]

“Republic Lieutenant Erithon Zale of Havoc Squad and Master Aitahea Daviin of the Jedi Order.”

The cluster of press at the foot of the grand stair disappeared momentarily behind the coruscation of flashes. Beyond them Aitahea briefly glimpsed, through the sea of elaborate costume and outlandish headwear, the dancers at the center of the hall. Over the buzz of voices, she could hear the notes of a familiar waltz. Haley Organa gave her a relieved smile as he slipped away to his next charges, leaving the Jedi and the soldier to descend the gauntlet together. Beneath her hand, Erithon’s arm was reassuringly steady.

Uncertainty flickered in his eyes only once they reached the last stair and the press drew close again. Erithon looked down, one brow raised in a wordless plea: What now? Aitahea laughed and nudged him toward a knot of familiar faces.

“Guess we made an entrance,” he admitted, sparing a last glance toward the lingering press, and turned toward Elara Dorne and Arik Jorgan, both in military dress like their commander, and a beaming Brant Sonn. “Hey, we know them.”

They exchanged greetings; the more formal commentary was punctuated with the chatter of battlefield allies good-naturedly enjoying each other’s company. Aitahea listened to the companions, struggling to keep her eyes on the others and not so frequently on Erithon. Grasping rather tenaciously to his arm was helping but had to be forsaken well too soon for her preference when Tharan and Holliday approached, asking that the Jedi make introductions for them, it wouldn’t take but a moment.

“Of course,” Aitahea agreed, all politeness, turning back to Erithon to excuse herself. He winked at her and caught her free hand in a quick squeeze when she began to pull away. Aitahea found herself suddenly and agreeably conscious that neither of their finery required gloves. His hands were warm.

“Hurry back,” he said, eyes crinkling with mirth, and Aitahea nearly forgot to let go before being ushered away by a harassed-looking Tharan.

‘Hurry’ became three different conversations with seven different nobles from at least two houses and a science corporation headquartered on Organa lands. At last, Aitahea was finally able to withdraw from the conversation, wandering over to where dancers traded partners and minced steps rather than words or plans. It was one of her favorite court dances, learned and practiced enough in her youth that even now she felt muscles tensing for steps she hadn’t taken in years. Orderly and precise, patterns were traced and rewritten, dancers finding each other again, over and over.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Aitahea was so entranced that she startled when Erithon spoke at her shoulder and laughed a little breathlessly. “Forgive me, I was so preoccupied with the dancers.” He offered her his arm and another charming grin, and she accepted, grateful that only she knew how an adolescent glee had settled so comfortably under her superficial calm. “I haven’t heard this since I was a girl – an initiate, in the enclave, that is.” She winced at her rambling explanation.

“Pretty.” He hadn’t seemed to notice her discomfort, occupied with carefully watching as the dancers divided, exchanged partners for a cursory bow, then returned to join hands. “Do you know the dance, too?”

She nodded. Well, if you’re going to be preposterously transparent may as well carry on, she thought vehemently, but her voice and expression remained blithe. “It’s traditional on Alderaan. Are you familiar with it?”

He grimaced at the dancers, chagrin drawing his brows low. “Um, no. But,” he offered cautiously, “I’m reasonably good at following orders. And you’ve kept me from embarrassing myself so far.”

“I’ve never… I haven’t in years, I don’t know if I can recall all…” Aitahea focused determinedly on his eyes while she tried to hold fast the wild fluttering in her chest, something delicate and precious that had lingered, and after a moment she found she liked it there simply fine. She inhaled slowly, then asked, “You’re certain?”

“I trust you.”

~

Erithon had made his mind up to ask if she wanted to dance before he’d even spotted her. He might not have any empathic sensibilities, but he’d watched her seek out the dancers even while they were walking down the grand stairs. Even he could tell she’d wanted to be out there, and if he could just manage to stay on his feet long enough to give her the chance, he’d handle any ribbing from his crew later. She deserved it.

“Listen,” she murmured over her shoulder as they waited, poised at the edge of the dance floor. “Can you hear the rhythm? One, two, three?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded, swallowing hard when she stepped back against him. “Got it.” He shifted, hovering at her side, and hoping his heart wasn’t thumping in her ear like it felt like it had to be. “I think.”

Humming her amusement, she turned herself expertly into his arms and placed her left hand in his while she raised their right hands to her shoulder, fingers entwined. “Just start walking in time with the music.” She tapped a finger into his left palm. “Begin with your left.”

He took a breath and nodded. The dance was stately but leisurely, giving Erithon plenty of time to hear the next step whispered over Aitahea’s shoulder. She made it effortless, her body easy to follow, featherlight touches guiding his motions.

Good thing that was all he had time to focus on.

After a few minutes of mostly successful instruction, Aitahea uttered a warning about the impending partner change. Erithon swallowed hard, nodded, and next thing he knew, he was tripping over the shoes of an unfortunate noblewoman with what looked like an entire miniature thranta nest perched precariously on a tower of powdered curls. Thankfully, the exchange ended quickly and Erithon was relieved to have Aitahea guiding him once again.

“I didn’t think anyone in the whole Core was still powdering their hair,” the Jedi bubbled unexpectedly into his ear. He laughed a little too loud and swept her gratefully – though perhaps a little too enthusiastically – back into the progression. He liked this part best, he’d quickly discovered. The leader – his role apparent, though he might have disagreed technically – picked up their partner for a little lift and turn. Aitahea had warned him verbally the first time, but the second time he’d wrapped his hands around her waist he’d been too busy looking into her eyes and had missed the lift.

Erithon was determined. This round he got everything perfect: an effortless lift gave him a few moments to enjoy when her eyes widened and smile bloomed. If he put her down a second or two late, she didn’t seem to mind.

The song wasn’t quite through when Aitahea’s steps slowed, drifting out of the pattern. Erithon tensed, an arm already around her waist, and opened his mouth to ask if she was all right when she stumbled. He caught her easily; she was breathing much harder than one should be for a Jedi in fighting form – and the shadows beneath her eyes seemed suddenly more pronounced.

Alarm buzzed through him. “Are you okay?” She still had her feet under her, so he kept hold of one of her hands and curled the other arm securely around her waist. Just in case.

“Yes!” she exhaled quickly, leaning into him, and added a breathy laugh. “Perhaps we should get some air?”

“Here, come on.” Guiding her past guards in Organa livery, the terrace appeared mercifully empty while the festivities continued inside. Erithon led Aitahea to one of the benches by an elbow, easing her down first before sitting beside her, keenly aware of his now-empty arms. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” she replied, swiping at her hairline with the back of one hand before she lifted her face to smile at him. “That was lovely. I’m so sorry it had to end that way, and so soon.”

“Me too.” He smiled, unexpectedly pleased with her response. “You learned that here, as a kid?”

She shifted, easing back against the stone. “Yes.” She glanced sidelong at him, a droll smile playing across her lips. “No doubt the Duke has already regaled with you with mortifying stories from my youth.”

“He didn’t get to that,” Erithon said with a roguish wink. “Not that I’d believe a word of it, of course.” Erithon frowned back at her, worry wrinkling his brow. “You look tired.”

She sighed noncommittally and closed her eyes, leaning back against the cool stone behind them. Underneath the surface flush, she was still pale, almost sallow. When she opened her eyes again, the glitter in them was past the dazzle of a party and looking almost feverish.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Erithon shifted uneasily as the silence stretched out, trying not to guess at her silence and just leave her some space to breathe.

“I am… carrying a burden.” She paused, twisting her fingers while she seemed to search for words. “I’m shielding several masters who were infected with a Force plague, standing between them and madness, perhaps worse. Even my own master…” She trailed off, staring into her hands, dropping them to rest open in her lap.

“Anything I can do?” He meant anything. He’d face down more Sith, however many it took to disengage her from this burden and give her some peace. Anything.

Aitahea looked at him with eyes suddenly glittering with tears; her expression nearly stopped his heart. Her voice was a whisper, her eyes dancing again. “Erithon…” Her focus shifted, gaze flickering past him just as Erithon himself caught the sound of approaching footfalls. He ground his teeth to keep from muttering the curse he caught grumbling in his throat, instead giving Aitahea a bemused grimace as he rose and offered her a hand.

The Jedi was a portrait of ethereal serenity again, eyes that only moments before had shone with desperate anguish had shuttered, hiding the woman who’d whispered his name like a plea, leaving only the Jedi, glorious as she was, incandescent but incomplete.

“Ah, Master Jedi, I’ve been hoping to track you down all evening. I’m Hallam Organa, head of House Organa’s diplomatic corps.” The broad fellow made a brief bow, then indicated his companion. “This is my younger, more handsome brother, Lew.”

Lew Organa gave his brother an indulgent look. “Please, Hallam. You do yourself an injustice.” His lips twitched. “Your age gives you a stately difference.”

“My lords, it’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” she replied, eyes crinkling with amusement, then turned to Erithon. “Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Erithon Zale of the Republic, commander of Havoc Squad.”

“Ah, the liberator of the Spears! What an opportunity, having our newest Paladins side by side, such fine company!” Hallam exclaimed, offering Erithon a deep bow that Lew also made. Erithon glanced at Aitahea, uncertain how to respond, and she inclined her head, giving him an encouraging smile. He copied the motion, appreciative but still a bit mystified by all the pomp and circumstance.

Rising, Hallam returned his attention pointedly to Aitahea. “Master Jedi, I’ve been told you’re seeking Master Sidonie Garen.”

She hovered close to Erithon’s side, her hand curled around his arm. “It’s urgent that I speak with Master Sidonie as soon as possible.”

“You just missed her, I’m afraid. She’s already left for the peace summit,” Hallam explained. “A peace summit on Alderaan! Imagine that!” He slapped his thigh, shaking his head incredulously at Lew, who nodded thoughtfully in response.

Erithon watched Aitahea’s lips thin almost imperceptibly, but the next moment she was tilting her head, tranquil and erudite. “Indeed. Can you put me in contact with her?” Erithon could feel her tensing, fingers tightening on his sleeve. Master Sidonie must be one of the infected Jedi masters she’d mentioned a few moments ago.

“I can call her, certainly.” Hallam flicked another glance at Erithon, considering. “The location of the summit is a secret for obvious reasons, but I’m sure she’d welcome your assistance. Meet us first thing tomorrow morning, diplomacy wing?”

He felt her shudder, but she nodded affirmation. “Thank you, my lord, the Council will be eager to hear any updates.”

~

Their shoulders brushed again and again as they walked, sending her heart skipping every time. He hadn’t let her go further than arm’s reach since she’d stumbled out of the dance progression, nor as they wandered back to their suites after finishing the stilted conversation with Hallam and Lew Organa.

She slowed, eyes flickering to the nearby door of his suite, then back across the hall to her own door before she turned to face him. “We’re here.”

“Right.” He caught up the hand she’d left lingering on his sleeve and offered one of those extraordinary lopsided smiles. “I’m glad we found each other again.”

She returned the expression with delight. “As am I. Thank you for…” She began the elaborate thank-you she’d begun contriving as they’d walked back to the guest wing, but when he reached up with his free hand, twining one of her loose curls around a finger, every word fled her all at once. The silence between her heartbeats was impossibly sustained, well more than enough time for him to notice her gaze lingering on his mouth. When he drew closer still and smoothed his thumb over the curve of her cheek, she lost track of them entirely.

“Do you think we’ll ever dream of each other again, like Taris?” he asked, low and earnest.

Some resolve she’d fashioned in the wake of their dearly-won victory, Yuon’s coy encouragement, and the bravado of familiar surroundings fractured at his innocent question. The connection that often lingered after healing blazed with unfamiliar sensations that she hadn’t the strength to unravel now. Even without the physical contact, even with all her practiced resolve and Jedi training, his emotions wound around and through her, as impossible for her to ignore or deny as a starship could the pull of a gravity well. Waiting for her answer had allowed him plenty of time to sweetly tilt her face up to his.

With an austere resolve she was distantly surprised to find intact, she pressed a hand to his chest, where not long ago she’d smoothed her palm over his bare skin in the wake of the most desperate healing she’d ever undertaken. Aitahea answered, her whisper breaking on a last fragment of jagged verity: “I never stopped.”

She closed her eyes against the onslaught of overwhelming, unshielded, achingly reciprocated need, and pushed him away. She bit down hard on the soft sound of loss that threatened to escape her throat when he jolted back, the sudden distress and regret that tolled through her – no, him – no. Through them both. She struggled to inhale a tremulous breath.

When she could bear to open her eyes again, Erithon looked physically pained, his confusion and concern shearing through her own exhausted disappointment. He’d stepped back, hands open and empty, doubt beginning to tarnish the bright threads that had encircled them. “That was out of line, I’m sorry.”

“No, I was… You – I’m not –” Aitahea pressed her lips together hard to keep them from trembling, but it couldn’t stop the stinging in her eyes, the ache in her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No.” He shook his head, vehement. “Don’t be. Please.” Erithon hesitated, trying to work up a friendly grin in contrast to his stiff posture, but only managed a wan quirk of his lips. “I told you on Taris that we’d do something better.”

She exhaled in a rush and allowed a smile to flutter across her face. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, you did. Thank you.” Better! It was wonderful. Too wonderful. I never wanted to stop. We should have finished the song. “I should… retire for the night… if I’m to pick up Master Sidonie’s trail tomorrow.” She glanced toward her door, promising the solace of isolation and hopefully sleep. She was exhausted, utterly, but couldn’t resist one last watery smile. “Thank you, Erithon.”

His usual ebullient charm at least marginally recovered, he offered her a bow as crisp and practiced as any noble in the castle. “Goodnight, Aitahea.”

~

Aitahea waited for the door lock to engage before she sank back against it, hands over her face, about to release the pent-up sob clawing at the back of her throat.

On the suite’s balcony, Qyzen Fess shifted carefully but deliberately, his armor creaking in the silence. The door rattled noisily as she flattened against it in disbelief, reaching for a lightsaber that was not there. Of course not.

“Apologize if I startle you, Herald.”

Disquieted by her own panic, Aitahea bit back an uncharacteristically sharp retort, closing her eyes to draw a calming breath in its place. After releasing it, Aitahea raised a carefully neutral face to her friend. “I’m sorry, Qyzen, I wasn’t expecting you. Well done, you successfully snuck up on a Jedi.”

“Was not aware of such challenge.”

She sighed. “An attempt at a joke, Qyzen. A failed attempt, apparently. To add to the rest I’ve made this mission.” Aitahea sank gratefully into an overstuffed chair, letting the beautiful but unfamiliar shoes slip off her suddenly aching feet. “What changed your mind about the castle?”

“Mind not changed. Will return to ship after speaking.” Qyzen hovered near the balcony doors, clearly uncomfortable and anxious to depart. “Must see how Scorekeeper’s Herald fares.”

Aitahea tenaciously schooled her expression to serene but was unable to shake the tendrils of failure and regret that clung like shadows. “Tired, Qyzen. Thank you for checking.”

“Herald will rest.” Aitahea couldn’t decide if that was a question or suggestion, but either way, she agreed.

“Yes.”

AN: It's been such a journey to get here, to this chapter in particular that I’ve been imagining for such a long time. I’ve been stuck here since 2020; I’m so glad you’re still here with me. With us, I suppose. Enjoy. May the Force be with us all. Thank you.

Thank you to the ever-present, dependable, and brilliant Taraum for beta-reading.

Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify