#opportunity to showcase his skills apart from the ones that people already knew about

[hobismilitarywife]

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[hpalways]

Conquer || Childe

Disclaimer: This is a Yandere! Childe x Reader Oneshot. There will be obsession, light gore, and death. If you are not comfortable with such topics, you do not have to read it. I would also like to put a reminder that I do not condone such behavior either, nor should toxic relationships ever be romanticized. Thank you for reading if you choose to do so!

BLADES coated of water skewered the enemy, pummeling them down mercilessly with every motion. The quick fight was soon over, so the male brushed his gloved hands together and left the vicinity, plastering a smile on his face yet again. Tartaglia had just gone on a quick errand for the Fatui, to analyze an area for their future plans. However, he ran into a little trouble there and ended up fighting monsters and whatnot.

It frustrated him, having to deal with such lowlifes. He was better than this! If it didn't provide him the thrill he was so desperate to lay hands upon, then what was the damn point? They shouldn't even be spared any time, for they forced him to dally along, which kept him away from you longer.

He combed his fingers through his red locks, sighing in the process. It was about time he began the trek back to Liyue Harbor. Lands spreading far and wide, he stayed obediently on the path and watched the peaceful birds soar through the skies. It was a very nice day today, but he felt restless anyway. The hands at the sides were twitching, nails digging sharply into the palms until blood seeped out. The pain of it did not bother him at all -- in fact, he merely enjoyed it, lips curving up into an actual smile. It made everything less pleasant, but more real.

The greenery grasslands of the wilderness faded into pavement, marked by the craft of humans. The huge structures of the city brimmed of familiarity of what he called 'home' for the past few months now. It would never truly be home of course, and it would never satisfy his wants, but it would have to do. At least you were apart of it.

His dark boots echoed upon the planked docks as he dodged the bodies milling about. The waves lapping below were as clear as the sky, reflecting against the warm sun. He knew exactly where to find you, and had sucked in a breath when he indeed saw the person he wished to see the most. [h/c] hair blowing with the wind behind, your figure was hunched down, a pair of chopsticks in your hand. You were on a lunchbreak from your job at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, so you were currently shoving down food at your favorite spot of Liyue. It was a simple place -- the edge of the dock with a good view of the sea, but it was also where you and Childe marked the first letter of your names on the rail.

"If it isn't my favorite comrade." The voice nearly sent you jumping in fright, so you whirled your head around to meet deep, blue hues. The tall male was leaning on the ledge, capturing you wholly with an unwavering gaze.

"Childe! You've returned," you said, grinning at the sight of him.

He leaned closer in, immediately causing your heart to race. Without a second to waste, he kissed you chastely, tasting you softly, in addition, the salt coming from the chicken you just ate. You instantly kissed back, cheeks warmed and lids closed, the food forgotten entirely. Body heat stemmed from him, wrapping you in a comfortable embrace. It was enough to ease your current worries, because Childe was here. The man you loved since the time of beginning... was safe and sound. It wasn't that you doubted his skills -- because he was strong -- very strong, considering he helped train you previously -- but the world out there was still terrifying. Not just that, but he could sometimes get ahead of himself; that was a call for trouble.

His kiss suddenly deepened, lips and tongue burning you until it began to eat you away. Your heart pounded ever so faster, but not in excitement -- rather in alarm. Pulling your head back from him and hungrily gulping fists of air, you averted your eyes to the waters. Despite not looking back at the Snezhayan man, you could feel his gaze digging into the side of your face. He appeared confused as to why the act of affection ceased so soon.

You decided to answer his unvoiced question, knowing it'd be a bigger hassle if you didn't. "I'm eating and we're in public." No response came from him. "Would you like a piece?"

Snatching a piece of chicken from your bowl, you turned to look at him. That was when you noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles adorned beneath his eyes, his hair was messy, and his outfit was slightly rumpled. What had exactly happened out there? Even the offer for food didn't appeal to him, his body stoic without the charm he usually exuded.

Then it happened like a light switch. He nodded eagerly, opening his mouth for the chicken. Despite your unease, you pretended not to see it and did as asked. Plopping it into his mouth, his expression brightened and he nodded while chewing. "Very delicious. Isn't life beautiful, [Y/N]? It's always beautiful with you here."

"Oh... stop being a flirt," you laughed, shaking your head to hide your flustered state.

"Why should I ever?" he asked, tilting his head. A finger twirled around your hair strand, twisting it -- deeper and deeper like a snake burrowing within. He grinned wide, teeth baring and too bright it nearly blinded you. "You're fun to tease."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back onto the food. "How did your day go today?"

"It was annoying," he murmured, features growing dim for a second. "I had only hilichurls to fight. I need something stronger."

"Isn't that a good a thing? You won't get hurt that way."

He blinked at you, brows raised for a few seconds. "You're right," he agreed, shocking you. He wasn't the type of person to stray from the idea of danger. "Patience is key. My opportunity will arrive when it comes."

Oh. So that was what he meant. "That's not the point," you mumbled under your breath, repressing the sigh threatening to spill out. He wouldn't listen to your warnings anyway, so you decided not to press on it. "You look exhausted, Childe. Are you taking care of yourself?"

"I'm not tired at all," he smoothly denied, expanding his smile even more, as if to try and convince you. "Besides, it's our date night, isn't it? I'm not missing out on something so special just for a nap."

That was right. With how busy both your schedules were, the last time you went out on a date with him was a month ago. It was a miracle when the two of you found an evening where both parties were free. Even so, it was a little worrying. You would rather reschedule than force him to go somewhere when he was in that state. Before you could say anything, he beat the punch, as if he read your mind just then.

"We're going. You can't say no."

"Fine," you sighed, shaking your head with a small smile on the lips. "Ah, shoot. I should get back to the Parlor. Break is already over. It went by too fast." Shoving the rest of the food into your mouth, you swallowed it in one go. There was one last thing to do. On the tip of your toes, you pressed your lips on the side of his face, feeling his smooth skin under. Soft as a baby's. How unfair. "See you tonight?"

He nodded, shooting a quick wink your way. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, comrade."

Chuckling under your breath, you whirled around and left the docks, oblivious to the eyes glued on to your form.

The moment you arrived to the building of your workplace, a certain director was waiting. She had long, brown hair put into two ponytails, with a dark hat sitting on top. Amber eyes showed from beneath her bangs, darting back and forth in wonder. Her fingers continued to tug the sleeves of her dark, traditional coat. It was none other than Hu Tao -- the person you called a boss.

"[Y/N]! You were a minute late!" she said, huffing as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh... sorry," you said, scratching your head.

She picked something up beside her. It was a stack of papers, showcasing calligraphy, which advertised the company. Same old Hu Tao. She never gave a break about it, considering clients were hard to keep. More-so, the woman was the one who typically scared them away, talking about death and whatnot. It sometimes unnerved you too, but it kept things interesting. Hmm... now that you thought about it, you attracted quite the strange bunch of people in life. Strange people often led to strange situations. Strange situations often led to death. Death?! Did your boss somehow brainwash your brain into thinking like her?

Hu Tao dropped the heavy pile upon your arms. "Let's go and find more clients! While we're at it, we'll tape these on some buildings too!" she declared, pumping a fist into the air.

Forced to follow her like a lowly dog, you drooped your head and did as ordered. It was a nightmare having to approach these people, witnessing the terrifying lines Hu Tao would sometimes spit out to them and the horror apparent in these innocent citizens' eyes. Then they'd threaten to call the guards on her, so the two of you would be forced to flee, and the cycle would continue. If not obvious by now, this was your least favorite task of this job, but it wasn't like you could argue with her. If she ended up firing you, you wouldn't know what to do.

Traveling through the city of the Geo Archon, you prepared yourself for the long day ahead.

The sun was setting by the time the two of you began to return to the Parlor. Skies streamed of pink and orange, looking magnificently beautiful. Lights began to illuminate the buildings, coloring the streets with its warm glow. It was growing silent too; the merchants and travelers were beginning to retire to their abodes. This made it much more peaceful and a definite welcoming sight to see. The embarrassment you gone through today made you wish to never see another human being again.

Ah. It was getting near the designated time for the date with Childe. Just as you were about to ask to be dismissed by your boss, the female beside you had let out a groan.

Turning your head to the left, you found Hu Tao sagging to the ground, grasping her head in pain. "Are you okay?" you questioned in panic, shaky hands unsure of what to do.

It was over quickly. She stood up and brushed herself off, clearing her throat. "I have a bad feeling," she said, placing her hand onto your shoulder. You glanced down in bewilderment, confused by her line of actions. "Someone is going to die. Is it you?"

"What--" you blubbered. "That's not funny at all, Hu Tao."

She hummed, placing a finger on her chin in deep thought. "Perhaps it's me."

"Don't say that!" you gasped, shoulders trembling in shock. What the hell was she spewing out?! Maybe you should be used to her tactics at this point, but never had she said something so... so drastic! Why would say she such a thing? How could she say it so casually? She was lying, wasn't she? This couldn't possibly be real!

Her expression was entirely serious. Trailing from your shoulder to your wrist, her tight grip weaved around it. "Come with me. We're going to Wuwang Hill."

You decided to go with her. This was an emergency. The original thought of your date with Childe had been pushed to the back of your mind, entirely forgotten.

The trip to the this place she talked about was longer than expected. Night had fallen across the lands, dim stars twinkling in the distance. It was dark out -- it didn't help that you found yourself in some abandoned woods, where gnarly trees stemmed from the ground. Where did she just take you? Her prophecy about someone's death was beginning to look a bit more convincing. The woods were the perfect spot for a murder scene. You flinched at the sound of a stray owl hooting from somewhere.

The woman finally halted at a mound of dirt, to which she nodded in approval at. She spun around to face you, giving you a thumbs up. "Alright. Just wait here for me. I'll be back in a bit."

"What?! You can't just bring me to this creepy place and ditch me like that! Let me go with you-"

She shook her head, looking stern. "I can't do that. Nothing will happen to you, I promise." Her words were a little hard to believe and did not help to assure you at all.

Despite your futile protests, she ignored them and entered a magical veil. In less than a second, she was gone, leaving you alone in a dark... dark place. Curses ran through your mind and you hugged yourself in paranoia. All was silent, saved for the rustle of leaves blowing against the wind. The moon casted trickles of light past the gaps of trees, the color of it more ghastly than helpful. Broken wood littered the ground, which you assumed were past homes. What happened here? If people used to live here, what happened?

The nape of your neck prickled, the feeling of it slithering down the spine of your back. It sank its fangs into you, ready to spill your blood to fill the soil. Whirling around, you found an empty clearing, with no one there.

Taking a step back, you tripped over a log. Shit! Shutting your eyes, you prepared for the fall. The wind knocked out of you, but before the impact arrived, time had froze to a stand still.

Cold, searing hands were placed on you, burning into your back through the fabrics of your shirt. Eyes opened to see the familiar outline of a person. You yanked away and shoulders lowered. Relief seeped into you, knowing that it wasn't somebody dangerous. He was here to protect you, for he was untouchable, unmatched in skills and strength. Suddenly, you did a double take. "What are you doing here, Childe?"

"I followed you here," he said, a grin never leaving his face. Pearls gleamed, reflecting the moon's glow. His gaze didn't match the smile he had on though; they were overflowing with something. Turmoil. Anger. Desire. "I was going to pick you up from the Parlor as a surprise, but then I saw you leave the city."

"The... date," you mumbled, knitting your brows together. "I'm so sorry...! I can explain."

"Hush," he said, grin stretching ever wider. He snatched a strand of your [h/c] hair, breathing it in deeply, while licking his lips in the process. "There's nothing to explain. You decided your job was more important than me."

"That's not it!"

He ignored your remark, scanning the surroundings with great interest. "This place is pretty dead. There's nothing to kill." Bending down, he picked up a wilting flower, analyzing it with those haunting hues of his. The next second, the flower was crushed in his hand, squeezed so hard it had turned into dust. He blew on it and the specks disappeared into the breeze. "Where's Hu Tao?"

Hu Tao... He had never paid attention to her before. As far as you knew, they had not spoken to each other once. What did he want with her? Your lips parted, but your throat dried. No words came out. You couldn't seem to find your voice.

"Cat caught your tongue?" he sneered, taking a step forward. His question was repeated, a little harsher on the edge. "Where's Hu Tao?"

"I'm back!"

Speak of the devil. The brunette had appeared out from the burrow yet again. Childe whipped around at the voice, a crazed excitement flashing past him. You wanted to scream at the girl to get out of here immediately, but your mouth would not move. Although, why? Childe was your boyfriend, was he not? What was this fear that threatened to suffocate your every being?

The tall man went over to the director, who had stopped in her tracks. "So this is it," she breathed out, her gaze locking in with the red head. "Balance has been shaken because of you, Harbringer."

"Does it look like I give a damn about your words?" he said, barking out a chilling laugh. "Please do at least give a nice challenge for a fight. I've been bored all day."

"I have no choice, do I?" she said, slowly unsheathing her polearm.

"No! Stop it! Leave her alone." you yelled out, running out to the battlefield.

He pushed you back, sending you sprawling to the ground. "Stay there." You tried to get up, but by then, it was too late.

Blue and red visions gleamed in the dark and in a biting realization, you knew who was instantly at a disadvantage. Childe had taken out his blades as well, water forming from them. The two figures ran at each other in great speed, weapons clashing and clanging. Every time Hu Tao tried to hit him, it was easily met by the other, the fire dissolving at the taste of water. Steam arose in the air, fogging the air around. "At this point, I won't even need to go into the other form. You're weak," Childe taunted.

"And you're hurting [Y/N] with your selfish deeds," his opponent quipped. Fury blossomed in the depths of his heart at the sound of this. He was going to go easy before, to keep the fight going for longer, but it was running out. Hitting her polearm with his entire strength, he knocked the long stick from her hands.

He grabbed her by her neck, squeezing it. Her legs were lifted from the ground, eyes bulging and her hands desperately trying to scratch the iron grip of his. She wheezed out in pain, the sound of it raw and scratchy. "Stop! Stop it, dammit!" you cried, crawling over to the scene. He ignored you, dropping the ragged body of the woman down. She was still alive, but barely.

Just as you were about to reach her, Childe had kneeled down and plunged the recently dropped polearm straight down into her chest. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Blood splattered upon his face, where a sick smile took place. Sticky substance landed on yours, the intense iron smell making your stomach turn. The woman's eyes which used to gleam of life had faded, though they were still wide in horror for the upending doom.

You couldn't even process it or grieve.

His bloodlust eyes turned on you, crimson splatters oozing down like drying paint. Wiping a spot from his cheek, he sucked his thumb and smiled, looking too happy -- looking too normal for someone with blood on their face. You reeled back, uneven breaths breaking the uncanny silence.

"[Y/N]."

You couldn't answer. You didn't have an answer. This wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He was a stranger. A murderer.

"[Y/N]."

Nails dug into the dirt and you dared scooted yourself back.

"Why do you look scared?"

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. He was pouting, jutting his bottom lip out childishly. How could he say that with his hand still on the polearm used to kill someone? Stop it.

"I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you."

"Leave... me... alone..." Your voice cracked and it shook with every syllable. With the last bit of your strength, you heaved yourself up and began to run like your life depended on it. And it did.

You barely last a few seconds. Yanked back roughly by your shoulder, he held you, claws digging into the side of your torso. His head lowered and hot breath tickled your ear lobes as he whispered.

"I will never leave you. One day, I will conquer the world. So I need you by my side. Forever."

His blue eyes were no longer blue. They were purple, the color of poison.

A/N: PLEASE the way childes banner is coming very very soon but i be writing this-

If youre pulling for him, good luck! We're getting our bastard man babes :D

[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 ❤️

[cakesunflower]

Know Me [C.H. One Shot]

A/N: Hellloooooooo! Here is the awaited Trust Fund Cal!AU. As always, I did not expect for this to get so long. 29,893 words to be exact. I kind of hate myself for it but, like, whatever. Grab a snack (or a whole meal idk) while you read!

P.S.: Nura’s name is pronounced Noo-rah. P.P.S.: For those of you who don’t know, “beta” is Urdu for “child.”

Happy reading babies!!

People were predictable. That was one of the first things Nura Ansari learned when she first started working at the Little Palm Island Resort and Spa when she was sixteen. Nearly six years on the job and she’d developed the skill of reading people; just one sweep of her gaze and knowing exactly the kind they would be. The resort was a luxurious one, its patrons that of high celebrity rank or families with loads of money to throw around that wouldn’t make a dent in their bank account once it was gone. She could pick apart the parents who didn’t care what their kids got up to, the younger crowd with the sponsors booking them the finest room the resort had to offer to show it off on their social media garnering millions of followers, those who legitimately wanted to enjoy a family vacation, and everyone else in between. Different people, all ultimately the same beyond the surface.

But despite the exasperation she often felt with most of her encounters, Nura had learned to become patient, as well. Had perfected a smile fake enough that it seemed real—or maybe she was only given that illusion, seeing many of the patrons were blind to everything but their good time—and had become capable of accommodating the most difficult of customers. She started off as a lifeguard before moving onto waitressing and bartending, a job she came back to every summer since she turned sixteen. Hopefully, this was her last.

“Look alive, Nura.” She straightened her back immediately at the sound of Patrick, her co-worker’s voice, exiting out of Tumblr that had been opened up on her browser. This morning she was covering Elaine’s shift at the front desk, and would be off by two and would have the day to herself until her waitressing shift from seven to midnight started. 

Sticking the orange flavored gum to her mouth, Nura drew her attention to the guests approaching them, sharp eyes taking in the group of four guys and three girls. They rolled in with the breeze that engaged the plants by the door in a dance, the scent of sea salt one Nura’s nose had become numb to over the years. The early afternoon sun was high in the summer sky, the glass walls of the lobby allowing for the bright sun rays to bathe the room, the wooden and glass furniture glimmering amidst it. If she listened closely enough, Nura would be able to hear the swishing of palm trees right outside, or the relatively distant waves of the ocean. No matter how many years of this job Nura had under her belt, those were sounds she would never grow tired of hearing. Ironic, given that she’s trying to get out. Not just the island, but Florida as a whole.

The group of seven were giddy, chattering amongst themselves as the sounds of their voices carried throughout the open lobby, taking advantage of the welcome cocktails Amber was offering them by the door. The girls were carrying their totes and guys were each wearing backpacks, and Nura caught sight of Mattie and Rob, the two bellhops, each rolling in with a cart full of luggage. Nura’s eyes shifted back to the group approaching the front desk, taking them in in all the glory of their glowing skin and shining hair and bright smiles. She couldn’t forget the designer clothes that, not for the first time, made her feel inadequate in her uniform of the resort’s signature baby blue button down tucked into a black pencil skirt that stopped above her knees. 

Nura swallowed down that unwanted thought that was good for nothing but putting herself down. Comparing her appearance to that of others was something she’d put an end to years ago; she had to, in order to work this job. So she put on her smile, gaze shifting to the guy in front of the group, whose head was ducked as he used his free hand to dig out his wallet, the glass already half empty in his other hand. “Good afternoon, welcome to Little Palm Island Resort and Spa,” she began, the rehearsed speech rolling off her tongue effortlessly despite manning the front desk not being her priority. “I’m Nura, can I—”

“Yeah, can you get us checked in quickly, please? Four Island Grand Suites, all under the name Calum Hood.”

She instantly clamped her mouth shut just as the glass clinked on top of the counter which it was rested on, the familiar vein of irritation being picked at when the dark haired man in front of her dropped his I.D., credit card, and phone with the reservation confirmation pulled up in his e-mail. Nura’s gaze dropped to the items in front of her, a silent breath inhaled through her nose before she lifted her gaze, brown eyes meeting unapologetic brown.

Patrick was standing right next to her—she wished they’d gone to him instead.

Willing for her smile to remain on her face, Nura pulled the items towards her, hating that she allowed herself to take in the man before him. Tattoos inked around his skin, shown off by the short sleeved black Guess shirt that hugged his torso tightly, tucked into a pair of jeans Nura knew only someone who was accommodated to hot weather could wear in their spot of Florida. She looked down at the picture on his license—a California license, which made sense to his comfort in clothing choice—before glancing up to back at his face.

He wasn’t even looking at her, instead showing off the sharp line of his jaw as he listened to whatever the tall blonde guy was saying to his right. Even so, Nura picked up on the spark of amusement in his dark eyes, framed by long lashes, despite the absence of a smile from his plump lips. She itched to reach for her iced tea sitting under the table to flush out the thought of how handsome he was in the softness of his face and the contradictory sharpness of his features. Inviting and unforgettable. 

Nura turned her attention to the computer, pulling up his reservation order with a few clicks of the mouse. “Sorry about him.” She looked up to see one of the other guys, black hair contrasting starkly against hazel eyes, stepping up with a dimpled grin on his face and an arm draping around the first guy—Calum’s—shoulders. With a hand coming up to pat at Calum’s chest, who in turn shot a mildly irritable look towards his friend, the guy added lightly, “Apparently he didn’t nap enough on the near five hour flight.”

She didn’t miss the way Calum’s eyebrows lowered, wondering if it was for the truth behind his friend’s words or the fact that someone else was accounting for the snappy first impression he’d made. Calum’s eyes swept over to her, and she caught the very moment he finally saw her properly. Nura’s eyes were sharp, didn’t miss a single thing, catching the relaxation of his eyebrows with a blink of his eyes and the ever so subtle part of his lips.

He saw her, and yet he didn’t apologize for cutting her off or the impolite way he’d done so.

The two of them were caught in a brief lock of gazes, and Nura fought the dry smile from quirking at her lips because she knew she wasn’t going to get an apology out of him. She doubted he even knew what he’d be apologizing for. So instead she brought back her customer service smile and rather than acknowledge the brief, awkward encounter, she read off the reservations Calum had made just a week or so ago.

Nura tried not to scoff at the duration of their vacation—lasting the entire three months of summer. Which made sense, given the total that she’d caught a glimpse of at the bottom. The suites they reserved cost a little over a grand a night, each. Toss in four of those, all for a three month long stay? It cost more than her four years’ attendance of university combined.

The hum of chatter between the group never ceased, and Nura promptly ignored the gaze she felt burning a hole in her face as she made sure everything was in order before reaching in the drawers to pull out the appropriate keycards for every suite and their respective card holders. Nura finally looked up, offering the cards to the man before her, who couldn’t be that much older than her. She smiled, professional and polite, as she said, “Here you go, sir.” His eyes, deep and dark and intense, never wavered from hers. Nura didn’t back down, either, despite feeling something unfamiliar tickle her in the pit of her stomach. “Mattie and Rob over there will show you to your suites. Enjoy your stay.”

Calum picked the cards out of her grasp, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers as he did so, finishing off the rest of his drink and Nura was surprised that she had to fight herself from observing the way his throat worked. He put the glass down and as he held out the other cards for his friends to take, all of them voicing their thanks before walking away from the reception desk, Calum lingered.

He offered a nod, a subtle gesture with ducking his chin, the corner of his lips just barely lifting up to showcase what others probably found to be a charming smirk. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Nura.” Her name was slipping past her mouth without much thought, jumping at the opportunity to give herself a name. She refused to be boiled down to what was supposed to be a term of endearment but essentially had her nails curling into her palm. If it came from a significant other, that was fine. She encouraged it. But not from strangers who called her as such for the purpose of being patronizing. Her smile remained, though steely to match the hardness of her eyes. “My name’s Nura.”

Calum eyed her for a moment. If he hadn’t expected that from her, he didn’t let it show—and he was good at it. Instead, he scoffed, hitting the card he held with a finger as he said, almost boredly, “Noted.”

He turned, then, following his friends out the doors to follow Mattie and Rob to where their bungalows were on the island. They disappeared the same way they came, a chorus of chatter amongst them, absent of the deep voice of Calum Hood as they went. When they were gone, Nura let out a huff, finally picking up the iced coffee under the table as the cubes swished in the confined space of the cup before she took a long sip.

“So?” Patrick spoke up for the first time, prompting her to look at him as she enjoyed her refreshing drink. With a tilt of his head towards the lobby doors, he asked with a wry smirk, “What kind were they?”

Nura licked her lips, looking towards the door as if they’d reappear again. But she’d seen enough. Well—she’d seen enough of one person. And from what she perceived, the least talkative guy out of a group of them, all in clothing Nura couldn’t really afford and didn’t care enough to, anyway, was the only one on her mind as she answered Patrick in the form of a too fitting lyric, “Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends.”

*****

The smoke billowed past his lips in a thick cloud, disappearing into the air as Calum watched it dissipate into the night sky. His gaze flickered back to his friends, the glow of the tiki torches’ flames dancing across their shadowed features as they looked over the menus the host had given them. Calum looked to his left, observing the ocean that lay before them beyond the restaurant deck. The tides weren’t severe, a soft lull of water tickling the shore every so often, the sound nearly muted over the chatter of his friends.

The breeze was calming against his skin, a pleasant contrast to the warm weather. Florida heat was different than Californian heat, enough to prompt him to put on a pair of linen shorts his mother had advised him to pack. He hated wearing shorts, unless they were his athletic pairs and he was on his way to the gym. But jeans felt too restricting, and the whole point of this vacation was to let go. To relax and enjoy the company of the only people he truly enjoyed being around. It wasn’t off to the greatest start, considering he was already on his fourth—fifth?—cigarette today. He was supposed to be cutting off.

As if reading his mind, Ashton huffed to his right. “Hey, come on—none of that,” he said, frowning as he reached over to pluck the cigarette out of Calum’s hand. He let him, watching blankly as his dimpled friend snubbed it out in the ashtray on the table. Leaning back in his chair, Ashton shot him a look. “You’re supposed to be quitting.”

Calum scoffed lightly, arms crossed over his chest as he, too, remained leaned back. The breeze hit his face gently, the flames of the tiki torches dancing against the night sky as Calum shot Ashton a look. “I’m not much of a quitter.” He paused, a corner of his mouth quirking up wryly, feeling Ashton’s gaze on him as he added as an afterthought, “At least, I wasn’t.”

He didn’t even have to look at Ashton to know his friend easily picked up on the resentment coloring his tone, a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of the moment that pushed him over the edge, eventually leading him to book a three month vacation. He wasn’t sure why Dawn getting married had churned at his heart so harshly; they’d broken up over two years ago—she was, by all accounts, free to live her life the way she pleased. Not that she hadn’t been when they were together, but Calum hadn’t expected her to be getting married.

Correction: he hadn’t expected her to be getting married to someone who wasn’t him.

Next to him, he heard Ashton sigh over the chatter of their friends and the other patrons sitting around them, feeling Ashton give his shoulders a squeeze. Calum merely pursed his lips, eyes on the snubbed out cigarette in the ashtray, ears only focused on the gentle crash of waves and crackle of the tiki torch fire as, from the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approach their table.

He didn’t look up, not until he heard them say, “Good evening, everyone. I’m Nura and I’ll be your server for tonight—can I start you off with some drinks?”

Calum head raised, gaze flickering up to the waitress who was also behind the reception desk when they checked in earlier in the day, only this time she was in the glow of the torches and the moon above and wearing a different uniform. This one was a standard white blouse tucked into black pants, a notepad in her hand and her dark hair once again in that slicked back pony tail. An easy going smile was present on her red lips, yet he didn’t miss the way the corners of her lips subtly strained when her dark eyes met his, his presence apparently not one she wanted to be in.

That was a first.

He kept his gaze on her, stubbornly so, as she jotted down the drink orders his friends were saying until, ultimately, Nura’s eyes met his. She expectantly watched him, waiting, and Calum found himself wanting her to wait it out. Testing her patience, almost. He wasn’t quite too sure why he was doing it, but Calum kind of enjoyed the way her pen was already impatiently tapping against the notepad she held. Nura’s eyes twitched into slight narrowing, and he saw the exact moment where she picked up what he was trying to do—it hadn’t taken her long.

Nura remained silent, brown eyes on brown, an intensity present in hers that told Calum she didn’t at all appreciate his childish antics despite the small, polite smile that remained on her lips. And they were childish, Calum knew. Yet he didn’t stop. He wanted to see how long she would hold out, despite the curious and confused gazes of his friends watching them. Their silence was louder than when they talked, the absence of their voices making room for the suffocating quiet Calum had been wanting to avoid.

The curl of Nura’s lips were now twinged with an unpleasantness reserved just for him. “And for you, sir?”

She’d lasted about forty-eight seconds, which in hindsight, was a long time to remain numbingly silent in an unforeseen standoff such as this one. In the expectant pout of her lips, Calum fought the urge to smirk at the annoyance that tightened her mouth as well, clearly bristling at being the one who had to submit first. One corner of his own lips curled up, not entirely a smirk, as he told her, “Whiskey on the rocks.”

She was gone with a sharp turn of her heel and fierce swish of her ponytail, and as Nura left, Luke scoffed from across the table. “Are you trying to get her to spit in your drink?”

His words earned some laughter from everyone else, and Calum merely scoffed as he lifted his left elbow to rest on the bannister of the wooden railing they were seated next to. He scratched at the back of his head leisurely, uncaring as he gave a one shouldered shrug. His gaze only briefly swept over in the direction of which Nura had left before smirking at his friend. “She’s too much of a professional to do that.”

Crystal raised her eyebrows, an amused grin tilting at her glossed lips. “Oh, and you know her so well?”

Calum smirked lazily as the scent of the flames on the tiki torches tickled his nose. It was a familiar combination, mixing in with the salty sea breeze, something he’d smelled whenever he attended a bonfire on the beach back in California. Here, though, it was fresher. More intoxicating. “No, but she never stopped smiling,” he informed, his words prompting Crystal to scoff in disbelief. “She’s the type to smile at customers and talk shit about them behind their back—but she’d never actually do anything to jeopardize her job.”

“Don’t think she’d appreciate you psychoanalyzing her, man,” Michael chortled from next to Crystal, leaned back with his arm draped on top of her chair.

Rolling his eyes with a click of his tongue, Calum waved Michael off. His tone was bored as he responded, “Doubt she’ll care, so long as she’s gettin’ paid.”

Ashton shot him a disapproving look, one that Calum promptly ignored by shifting his gaze back out to the ocean. He heard them move on from his maybe insensitive comment rather than chastising him for it beyond the look Ashton had given him. Calum wasn’t in the mood to listen, they all knew that. So he watched the ocean, the moonlight glimmering against the ripples of the water and the silhouettes of people walking upon the white sand, feeling the urge to sink his own toes into the sand before diving into the inviting water.

Everything about the resort spoke to its tranquility; the rooms didn’t even have television that would pull them into the real world. Wi-Fi availability was a given, sure, but the suites themselves didn’t come equipped with TVs or anything like that, giving guests the opportunity to relax with the help of technology. Calum was ready for it. He didn’t want to reach for his phone anymore, didn’t want to open up his laptop and somehow stumble upon something he knew would upset him. This vacation was to help him get out of his own head; a resort such as this, as well as his guitar tucked away in his suite, should be enough to help him out. Being trapped in his own head never did him any good. Why worry about his ex’s wedding when he could wonder about how many times he could go scuba diving in three months?

He listened to Luke and Sierra talk about their excitement for the impending dolphin encounter they definitely wanted to take part in, silently wondering if he should take a look at the different activities the island offered. It would serve as a distraction, wouldn’t it?

Footsteps caught his attention as Nura approached the table, a tray in her hand filled with glasses. “Here we are,” she smiled, moving around the table to put down the appropriate glass in front of each of them. The act was followed by polite thank you’s spilling from everyone’s lips, while Calum merely met her eyes as he picked up his glass and took a sip.

If Nura was perturbed by his lack of gratitude, she didn’t let it show as she tucked the tray under her arm and clicked her pen. Gaze sweeping over the table, she asked, “Are we ready to order?” Her question was met with a hum of approval and she started with Luke before moving around the table, quickly writing down everyone’s orders. When she got to Calum, however, he was mildly surprised when she raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Would you like another minute?”

Clearly she was still irritated with his earlier antic with the drink order, tilting her head at him as Calum pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, fighting the smirk from appearing. The patronizing tone wasn’t one she tried to hide, and Calum could tell his friends had picked up on it as well, trying not to laugh at his expense. Not that he was embarrassed. Mildly surprised and impressed, but never embarrassed. “No,” he answered with a lift of his chin, not one to break eye contact as he closed the menu and offered her a tight smile of his own. “I’ll have the shrimp and spaghetti skillet.”

Nura didn’t say anything, instead just wrote down his order and Calum wondered if she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes. As she collected the menus, a man standing in the doorway that led to the indoor dining area called her name. “Nura—I gotta step out for a few minutes, mind getting behind the bar?”

She looked over her shoulder, giving him a nod as she answered, “Sure thing, Ted.” Then, smiling at the rest of them, she said, “I’ll be back with your food.”

Before she left, though, Michael raised his eyebrows. “Are you a bartender, too?” With an impressed scoff, he asked, “What don’t you do around here?”

Nura let out a soft chuckle, menus in one hand and the tray in the other. “Uh,” she pretended to consider for a moment with her face scrunched and an eye squinting shut. Calum took a sip of his whiskey, focusing on the spicy taste rather than cute expression of the waitress. “Housekeeping—I hate making my own bed, never mind someone else’s.”

Her response enticed laughter from the table, smiling as she chuckled along before her eyes met Calum’s. He wasn’t as engaged as the rest of them, sipping his drink and threatening to empty his glass before his food even arrived. Nura’s smile lessened as she pressed her lips together, looking away from him and nodding at the rest of them as she repeated, “I’ll be back with your food.”

The air was lighter to breathe once she left, and while Calum didn’t quite understand the tension he created with someone on his first day here, he also didn’t quite care enough to fix it.

Fuck. He either cared too much or not at all. He needed to find a balance, fast, before he drove himself crazy.

*****

Yoga hadn’t ever been something Nura was interested in. She preferred a good cardio workout, maybe blow off some steam with a willing partner in bed, but yoga hadn’t ever been on her radar. But somehow she’d ended up in a yoga class during the fall semester of her junior year at college and decided it was something she actually enjoyed. It woke her up, made her in tune with her body and reveled in the stretch of her muscles. Which was why on the days her shift didn’t start until later, her day would still start with the sun coming up and partaking in morning prayers before leaving her room to make it to the eight-thirty yoga class the resort offered to its guests.

The sessions were held on a large deck facing the beach, the sun already warming them as the crash of waves along the shore served as a peaceful soundtrack behind the voice of the instructor. It was easy for Nura to get lost in the tranquility of the practice, allowing herself this moment’s peace before jumping into the rigorous activities her job required from her. While the rest of the class would go off to enjoy the resort, Nura would be getting ready to dive into an eight to ten hour long work day. Yoga in the morning was just one way to ensure she didn’t lose her mind, even if she was in the company of women who attended classes with dangling earrings and designer leggings and sports bras.

“Heard you had front desk duty yesterday,” Christy, the yoga instructor, hummed once class was wrapped. With a knowing smile, she asked, “How’d that go?”

Nura scoffed, shouldering the bag that had her yoga mat rolled in. “Turns out some people are just as irritable checking in as they are before they get their food,” she responded, keeping her voice appropriately low in case a guest or two heard her.

Christy’s grin widened with a chuckle, reaching up to tighten her pony tail, the action only reminding Nura of having to take out her space-buns when she got ready for her shift. “Don’t you just love humans?”

Nura’s expression fell flat, voice dry as she returned, “Not particularly.” Checking the time on her watch, she let out a breath and said, “Alright, I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you later, Chris.”

Her friend waved in return. “Happy waitressing.”

To get to her own suite, Nura had to trek past a cluster of guest state suites, but it was a walk she enjoyed. The trees stood tall all around her, leaves surviving as a canopy to shield from the sunlight. No matter where you stood on the island, the sound of the ocean could always be heard, soft and steady as the waves fell upon the shore. The salty air tickled Nura’s nose pleasantly, a scent she’d become accustomed to as it mixed in with the fresh citrus smell that clung to the island as a whole. It smelled like home.

It hadn’t always felt that way. Nura had gotten her job at the resort the summer she turned sixteen, serving as a lifeguard and occasionally a waitress. It was a two hour drive from her home in Homestead, and not a journey her mom was particularly fond of her taking, but it was the best job offer she received at the time. The money was good, as were the accommodations, but Nura was only thinking of it financially. Whatever money she didn’t use for herself, she sent to her mom to help out. Being a single mother working as a teacher, supporting two kids, Nura did her best to make it as easy for her mom as possible. 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Nura reminded herself to call her mom when it was both their lunch breaks.

The sound of something melodic pulled Nura out of her reverie, her steps slowing as the strum broke through her thoughts. She furrowed her eyebrows, eyes darting around to trace the sound before her gaze lifted a bit to land on the back porch of one of the bungalows. Nura stopped, eyebrows raising when she caught sight of one of the guests she’d checked in as well as served the other day. The kind of rude one with dark hair and admittedly handsome face—Calum, she remembered.

Her grip on the strap of her yoga bag tightened, head tilting ever so slightly as she observed him sitting on the porch. He hadn’t noticed her, and the porch wasn’t too far from where she was, and Nura noticed the ink that was wrapped around his arm coloring his chest. Calum was oblivious to her presence where she stood on the sandy pathway, head ducked as his fingers plucked at the strings of the guitar he was playing.

It sounded nice, whatever he was playing, a consistent tune that streamed through the towering trees and was carried by the island breeze. Nura couldn’t help but think how it fit him, the broody, kind of asshole musician vibe he apparently owned. She knew it was probably unfair of her to label him so negatively, since she only had two interactions with the man, but Nura had become an expert in reading people based on how they treated her and/or the way they acted in general. You would think people would be their most relaxed self on vacation, but Nura had come to understand that more often than not, these people were running away from whatever their reality was back home.

Nura let out a breath and maybe Calum heard it, or he just looked up at that exact moment, but his eyes landed on hers and she saw the quirk of his eyebrow as he recognized just who happened to be watching him. She watched the way his chin lifted, fingers ceasing their work on the string as the guitar remained resting on his thighs, and even from where she stood, Nura could see the way his eyes narrowed in observation. Could feel his gaze take in the sight of her and hated that wherever his gaze seemed to linger on her body, she felt a warmth spark without her wanting it to.

“This isn’t a free show,” he called out, deep voice carrying a rasp that traveled with his arguably annoyed voice.

Nura bit her tongue, eyebrows lowering into a frown at his words as she ignored the warmth that bloomed in her cheeks. But biting the tip of her tongue didn’t seem to be enough, and it was like Nura lost all control of her mouth as she instantly retorted, “Wouldn’t pay for one, either.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes widening as she heard her own words echo in her ears and saw the way Calum raised his eyebrows. Shit. For six years, she’d become so good at keeping her mouth shut, at always waiting for a guest to be out of sight and earshot if she ever wanted to voice the irritated, mocking thoughts that ran through her head during interactions she could do without. Never had Nura allowed for a resort guest to hear the way she occasionally badmouthed them—she couldn’t help it. Dealing with uptight, self-righteous rich people was difficult and Nura had to blow off some steam some way. 

But never in their presence. And now here she was—talking back to a guest right to their face.

She felt mortified, especially knowing if this got back to her boss, Mr. McNulty, she’d be in deep shit because the guests were basically the gods around here. Nura held her breath in her lungs, eyes wide and lips parting as her frozen brain tried to break out an apology—though, apologizing to Calum, who Nura was slowly realizing looked something akin to amused, was not how she wanted to start off her morning.

Calum scoffed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he gave a challenging tilt of his head. “Excuse me?”

Was amused the right word? He looked surprised at her response, as if no one had ever close to insulted him to his face before. Maybe they hadn’t. Nura had been around the filthy rich long enough to know they only ever were told what they wanted to hear, always kept happy because they had money and were therefore superior to them. A bunch of bullshit, in Nura’s opinion. But she needed the money they were so willing to spend, so she stayed silent and did her job. Until now, it seemed.

Though apologizing to the dark haired man tasted bitter in her mouth and she wanted to do nothing but spit out another dry remark, Nura still managed to stammer out a quick, “I, uh, I’m sorry.” She forced herself to move on, feet moving quickly as the warmth in her cheeks intensified, uncaring of some of the sand slipping into her flip flops as she went and all too aware of the intense gaze burning a hole in her back that seared through her clothes.

Nura could only hope he wouldn’t file a complaint. She knew of guests who did so for much less.

*****

“Aw, man—you gotta stop with that.”

Calum instantly exited out of the app and locked his phone, dropping the device on the space between his legs as he remained sitting on the poolside chair. But it was too little, too late given that Ashton had seen exactly what Calum had been doing on his phone, and the brown eyed man let out a defeated huff as he linked his fingers together. Feeling the need to defend himself, Calum grumbled, “It’s not like I’m hung up on her.”

Ashton pursed his lips, a shadow of a dimple appearing under the scruff he’d decided to sport while on vacation. His hazel eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but Calum knew his best friend well enough to know he wore a look of disapproval. “No, you’re just hung up on the fact that she’s getting married.”

The inside of his cheek would soon start bleeding with the way his teeth were biting into it, lips pursing at Ashton’s words as the sun beat down his back. “It’s not that, either,” Calum responded, voice quiet among the hum of the beach. Ahead of them, he could see their friends enjoying the clear blue water of the ocean, the music playing from Michael’s speaker next to them consistent. 

He could hear the confusion in Ashton’s voice as he asked, “Then what is it?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

He didn’t miss Dawn—Calum knew that for a fact. They’d dated for seven months and Calum liked her enough to stay with her that long, but deep down, he’d always known they weren’t together for the right reasons. He’d wanted a warm body at night, a hand to hold at events, and she. . . She’d wanted his money. Calum had always kept that thought in the back of his head, not wanting to think about it too much but not allowing himself to forget about it, either. He’d known it, his friends had known it, and yet Calum kept Dawn around a lot longer than he should’ve. 

Finding another girl to fall in bed with would’ve been easy. But then it would be the same thing all over again, wouldn’t it? Just another person wanting to get into his pockets. That’s how it was with almost every person Calum met, except for the friends he’d escaped to Florida with. Except he’d escaped with a hollow pit in his chest and a bitter taste in his mouth. He was lucky his friends hadn’t called him out on his less than enthusiastic attitude, even if they’d only been here for three days. The point of being here was to forget about the shit that seemed to weigh him down back home and so far, he wasn’t doing too good of a job at it.

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, dragging his upper teeth along his lower lip before letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know,” was all he could say to Ashton. And it was the truth.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the buzz of the beach around them, and Calum knew Ashton was trying to find some words of comfort, encouragement, support for him. Calum appreciated it, but he didn’t need to hear them—nor did he need them, period. Calum didn’t need pity over a problem he couldn’t even figure out. What he needed was to forget about it altogether.

Apparently Ashton seemed to have the same idea.

“Come on—let’s get a drink,” he declared, clapping Calum’s back as he stood up.

Calum followed him with his eyes as Ashton veered off to the right, before sighing and standing up as well to walk with him. Unsurprisingly, Ashton filled the silence between them, talking about a new band he’d discovered while fooling around on Spotify that he thought Calum would like. And although his mind felt heavy, Calum still remembered the name Ashton mentioned to look them up later. New music was always something Calum was looking for.

They made their way to the beach cabana bar, dodging groups of people playing tanning and kids making sandcastles as they went. The kids were few, Calum noticed. Most of the guests were either people his age, or those older wanting to enjoy a vacation without their kids, probably having left them behind with grandparents or nannies. Calum pursed his lips; that’s how it had been with him. His parents had always been busy with the distillery or some other kind of business that always took priority; loving when they were around, completely absent when they weren’t.

“Hey—Nura, right?” Ashton’s laugh cut through Calum’s thought, forcing him to blink back into reality as his gaze zeroed in on the woman behind the round bar. Oh, great. Calum took in a breath as he gripped the edge of the bar and braced himself on it, watching as the front desk girl-slash-waitress turned to face them. Her pink lips lifted into a smile directed towards Ashton, faltering ever so slightly when her dark eyes met Calum’s. Ashton folded his arms on top of the bar, dimpled and charming smile on his own face as he introduced, “I’m Ashton, and you already know Calum.”

“I do.” She didn’t sound too excited about that, and Calum found himself having to fight back a smirk as she stood in front of them, bracing her own hands on the bar. Unlike this morning when he’d seen her in leggings and a fitted tank looking like she’d just come back from an early morning workout, Nura now wore the familiar white blouse with a name tag. “What can I get for you?”

Before Calum could answer, Ashton said, “Two tequila sunrises, please.” Then, turning to Calum, Ashton continued, “You know what you need?”

Dragging his gaze away from Nura, who’d immediately pulled away to make the drinks, Calum raised an eyebrow at Ashton, voice dry as he rebuked, “Other than a three month vacation?”

His friend chuckled. “Well, that, but also a big ass, five course meal that I’m pretty sure we can set up for dinner tonight,” Ashton said, an excited grin on his face. “A private dinner type of thing right on the beach. That can be done—right, Nura?”

Nura, who had just returned in front of them to place down their drinks, raised an eyebrow at her sudden inclusion in the conversation. She looked at Ashton before shifting her gaze to Calum, surprise evident on her face before she looked back to the dimpled man. “Oh, uh, yes it can. You just give the front desk a call and they’ll set it up for you.”

“Awesome,” Ashton grinned, slapping the bar top with his free hand, the other wrapped around the glass as he pulled himself away from the bar. “Thanks, Nura.”

While Ashton was already walking back to where their friends were, Calum had been pulling out his wallet to pay for the drinks. He placed down the money, eyes drifting to the tip jar that already had a bunch of bills inside. Calum scoffed lightly before pulling out some more bills, folding them up as his gaze lifted to Nura. She was drying a glass, gaze on her own actions, seemingly making it a point to not look towards Calum as she pretended to listen to a conversation some other customers were having on the other side.

A corner of Calum’s lips curled up at her obvious disinterest, arm folding on the bar top to lean forward as he held the folded bills up between two fingers. Nura looked over, raising an eyebrow, and Calum tilted his head ever so slightly. Before he could help himself, he mused, “Unlike you, I’m capable of being nice.”

A surge of satisfaction shot through him at the way Nura’s lips parted at his words, eyes narrowing as she watched him purposefully stuff the bills in the tip jar. She wasn’t hiding the irritation that sparked through her brown eyes, his smug act of kindness one that obviously seemed to tick her off. Nura scoffed lightly, taking two steps towards him, hands braced on the bar and showing Calum the thin silver chain she wore around her neck which hid beneath her shirt. 

He could clearly see the way his words had prickled at her skin, pink lips in a tight smile as she returned, “There’s a different between being nice and being decent. You’re only just barely proving yourself to be the latter.”

Calum scoffed through his nose, his smirk still on his lips despite the shot she’d taken at him—one that did, strangely enough, both amused him and threatened to rile him up. He remained put longer than necessary, brown eyes locked onto hers, momentarily wondering if she was going to apologize for the snappy comment like she had earlier this morning. He wondered if the slight pinkness across the apples of her cheeks was because of the Florida heat or something else.

“Nura.” A voice cut in, and she finally broke her gaze and Calum looked over her shoulder to see another resort employee step behind the bar. “Time for your break; you gonna take fifteen or the full hour?”

Nura was already untying the black waist apron she wore. “Hour. I gotta pray and call my mom,” she informed the other worker, folding the apron under the bar before moving to get out. Calum pushed himself away from the bar, watching as Nura went, sipping his drink and smirking around the straw when she glanced at him over her shoulder before quickly turning and walking away.

Calum chuckled lowly, feeling a bit better than he had before. The pinkness in her cheeks had nothing to do with the heat, he was sure.

*****

“Nura, I need you waiting on the private dinner,” Mr. Gonzalez, the restaurant manager, informed her just as she gave the order for table seven to the kitchen. “Lorraine will cover your tables.”

Nura blinked, not entirely expecting to give up her section to serve just one table. “Oh, but—”

“No buts, Ms. Ansari,” Mr. Gonzalez cut in with a shake of his head. He’d always been a bit of an impatient man. “They specifically asked for you, so go. They’re ready to order drinks.”

He didn’t give her any room to argue, already turning away as Nura defeatedly pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply through her nose. She had a feeling she knew exactly whose private party that was—especially if they specifically requested for her. Tightening her pony tail, she made her way towards the doors of the restaurant that led to the outdoor seating before following the path down to the private area of the table on the beach. As she neared the table, the chatter reaching her ears along with the distant sound of the ocean, her suspicions were proven correct when she recognized Calum, Ashton, and the rest of their friends.

“Good evening, guys,” she greeted, putting on her best customer service smile once she was by them.

“Evenin’, Nura—great seeing you again.” The smug patronizing tone wasn’t lost on Nura as her gaze darted to Calum, who was grinning up at her a bit too widely. Truth be told, if any of them, other than Calum, had been the one to request her service, Nura wouldn’t have minded. From the few interactions she’d had with them, they all seemed like genuinely nice people. Nura knew how to pick them out from the ones who smiled to her face but had less kinder thoughts running through their minds. Calum’s friends didn’t seem like those type—Calum, on the other hand, was a different story.

And as much as she didn’t want to give into his contempt, had taught herself better, Nura couldn’t help but return, a bit dryly, “I’ll bet, especially since I’m told I was specifically asked for.”

Calum leaned forward, arms crossed on the table as he looked up at her from where he sat on the right side of the table, the other end from her sitting next to a pretty blonde haired woman. “You were such a wonderful waitress last time and served us so well—we didn’t wanna mix it up.”

His patronizing words sunk deeply in Nura’s bones, and though she fought to keep the effect of his statement off her face, it didn’t stop Nura from clenching her jaw and tightening her grip on the pen. She noticed the looks the others at the table were sending Calum, silent warnings, but he didn’t seem to care. Why would he? She was just the help—it never mattered to people like him that their words could have any kind of impact, big or small, on the people whose job it was to make sure they were happy.

Her skin was warm, Nura could feel it under his douchey smirk. And while hate was a strong word she never used lightly, Calum was really coming close to it. Who the hell did he think he was, so blatantly poking at her profession? This wasn’t what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, and even if it was, who the hell gave him the right to shit on it? Nura knew people like him; they either built themselves from the ground up, or never had to work a day in their life and were rich off the expense of everyone else.

One look at Calum, she knew it was the latter.

A fire simmering in the pit of her stomach, Nura ignored Calum’s words, forcing politeness into her tone as she asked the rest of the table, “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

They all seemed to slowly snap out of the looks they were sending Calum, one by one telling her of their orders as Ashton took it upon himself to order the first round of appetizers as well. Nura jotted it all down with a riled up flushed face, barely looking at any of them as she quickly said, “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

She turned around to leave, only making it a few feet away when she heard one of the girls say, “Cal, what the hell’s gotten into you?”

At least not all of them were assholes.

Nura didn’t stay long at the table after dropping off their drinks, heading back inside to check on their appetizers before bringing the dishes of a shrimp platter and fried calamari to the table. The minutes of taking their orders for their entrees had passed by in a blur, settling into reality only for the brief moment of telling the blue eyed, blonde guy the specials of the night. She didn’t bother looking at Calum as he told her his order, thought she wasn’t immune to his gaze resting heavily upon her.

A polite, “Your food will be ready shortly,” later, and Nura was gone.

She found herself in the bathroom after dropping off their orders in the kitchen, sighing as she stepped out of the stall to go wash her hands. Her frustration had settled a bit since first hearing Calum’s words, though she still couldn’t believe the audacity of the guy. Just because he had money, didn’t give him the right to basically insult her in front of her friends. And although Nura had tough skin, it didn’t mean nothing got to her. Was it so damn hard to treat another human being with respect?

As she dried her hands with the air dryer, she heard the ladies’ room door open, turning when she heard her name being called. She looked over her shoulder to see the blonde girl from Calum’s table, turning around once the dryer stopped as the woman offered her an apologetic small. “I just want to apologize for Calum,” she said, heels clicking on the linoleum floor of the bathroom. “I’m not trying to make excuses for him, but honestly, he’s normally not so rude.” She was nervously twisting a ring on her left hand, and Nura wasn’t surprised to see the rock that was on her ring finger. “He’s just going through something.”

Nura wanted to laugh. This woman seemed nice, and although she said she wasn’t trying to make excuses for Calum, it sure sounded like she was. Chin lifting, Nura let out a breath through her nose and surmised, “Everyone’s going through something. It doesn’t give him the excuse to patronize others.”

She nodded quickly, and Nura was jealous of how shiny her blonde hair was under the bright lights, or how her blue eyes seemed to glitter as well. “You’re absolutely right.” She offered another small smile. “I just wanted to apologize on his behalf.”

It would be better if Calum decided to take responsibility for his own words, but Nura appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. So she returned the smile with a single nod. “Thank you, uh. . .”

“Crystal,” she supplied, finally naming herself with a grin.

Nura smiled once again before taking a breath and awkwardly gesturing towards the door. “I should, uh, go check on your food.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Crystal laughed lightly, stepping aside to let Nura pass.

Nura made it halfway down the hall of the bathroom before stopping abruptly when someone turned the corner to walk in her direction, teeth instantly pressing together when she recognized Calum. He stopped as well, as soon as he saw her, chin lifting and lips parting as he let out a short yet amused chuckle. The sound irritably poked at Nura’s nerves, no matter how stupidly handsome the guy was.

Pursing her lips, she broke their gaze and continued on her way, determined to make it past him without so much as uttering a word. But Calum seemed to have a different thought in mind, because as soon as there was about three feet of distance between them, he spoke up.

“I’m surprised you didn’t fire back like you’re so fond of doing,” he hummed, effectively stopping Nura in her tracks as her dark eyes met his. Calum looked down at her, full lips adorning that damned smirk as the chain around his neck glimmered under the light. With a condescending quirk of his eyebrow, he added, “Wouldn’t want your boss finding out ’bout your lack of customer service, huh?”

Nura narrowed her eyes, tilting her head as her skin flushed once more in an angry heat. Fuck—what was up with this guy? Arms crossing over her chest, Nura threw caution out the window. She’d already shot back at Calum more than once, at this point, despite her constant professionalism for the past six years, she didn’t quite care. “What would you know about customer service?” she asked, taking the few steps towards him, undeterred by their significant height difference as she looked up at him. 

Nura then pointedly gave him a once over; the chillier weather for tonight warranted the Dr. Martens, black pants, tucked in shirt and leather jacket he wore. And pushing aside the thought of how good he looked—and ignoring the flutter in her stomach at the jewelry he also adorned and how everything looked stupidly perfect on him—Nura scoffed. “I doubt you’ve worked a day in your life. Only someone with a lack of appreciation for hard work would be so casual in basically threatening someone else’s job.”

His eyebrows lowered into a frown, the muscle in his jaw jumping as his expression transformed instantly. With a rasp in his voice, Calum returned, “I didn’t threaten your fuckin’ job.”

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, shaking her head up at him. Of course he didn’t understand the implication behind his own words. People like him had no problem saying shit if it meant they could show off their own superiority, and it pissed Nura off. “Oh, you didn’t?” she asked innocently with a tilt of her head before her eyebrows knitted together in a glare. “Then what was that about my boss finding out about my lack of customer service?” Calum pursed his lips and Nura saw the way his throat worked, saw it in his dark, conflicting eyes that he knew she was right. “Money doesn’t give you the right to look down on others. It doesn’t make you better than anyone else. Now if you’ll excuse me—” She stepped back, neck tense as she took a breath in order to calm herself down, brown eyes meeting, what she could almost say, were disgruntled brown. “—I have to go check on your food.”

She walked past him without another word, without letting him say another word, with shoulders squared and head held high and the image of his taken aback, disgruntled expression seared into her head. Even if the anger swirled in her stomach and her skin was flushed with an indignant embarrassment as she curled her fingers into her palms, nails digging into her skin so her outrage didn’t lift her. Hate was a strong word, and while Nura didn’t feel it for the tattooed man behind her, she did feel it for the way he made her feel like she was lesser than.

*****

Pulling her hair out of the tight ponytail it had been in all day was something short of a sweet relief—she’d only feel completely relaxed when her bra was off, too. But for now, Nura settled for her dark hair falling around her shoulders as she ran her fingers through it, feeling the dull ache of a sore scalp as she approached the still open bar in the resort restaurant. It was late, nearly eleven at night, and most of the resort had cleared out save for the few guests milling around. Nura was off the clock, and that’s all that mattered.

“You look like you could use a drink,” the main bartender on duty, Riley, grinned from behind the bar, already fixing up a drink for her.

Nura huffed, leaning forward on the bar as he made the bourbon on the rocks. “Some toddler almost threw up on me. I think I prefer it when the snakes leave their kids at home.”

Riley sighed dreamily as he slid the cup over to her. “Don’t we all?”

Nura chuckled, raising the cup in silent cheers before taking a sip. Patting the bar top with her free hand, she told him, “I’m gonna get some fresh air. Thanks, Riley.”

He waved her off and she left the restaurant, walking towards the pool area. It was locked off to prevent guests from sneaking inside after hours for safety reasons, of course, but there was one gate that didn’t lock properly and maintenance never got around to fix it. The thought always made Nura scoff in contemptuous amusement, given the status of the resort and the lack of upkeep for this particular gate. But she never said anything, not when she could get into the area so easily. Not to mention the several blind spots from the security cameras.

Seriously. What were they paying millions of dollars per year for? The rich never failed to amuse her.

Nura settled down on a poolside chair, watching the pristine blue water ripple in front of her, glowing with the in-pool lights. The silent hum with the ever-present ocean waves was calming as she sipped her drink, arms resting on her knees and figure crouched forward as she sat. Nura loved sitting by the pool at night when no one was around, the usual busy hum of guests splashing and chattering away something that had gotten tiring very quickly. And with the dark sky above her, glittering with stars, it was a calming way to unwind before she headed back into her room to turn in.

“Drinking on the job?”

Nura prided herself in not letting out a startled scream at the sudden voice, head whipping to her right to follow the sound, sitting up straight when she saw Calum standing over her. He wore athletic shorts and a white and red shirt, right arm wrapped around the neck of the guitar she’d seen him playing the other day. Her heart had began racing, but calmed down when she realized there was no threat—not a physical one, anyway.

She pursed her lips, adopting a bland expression as she quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Do you see the company name anywhere on me?” she retorted tiredly, referencing to her lack of name tag that was now in the pocket of her pants. How did he even get in there?

Calum pursed his lips and Nura looked out towards the pool again, feeling her muscles tense in his presence. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, ever since she waited on his table for their private dinner. After her little confrontation with him in the hallway—which, frankly, she was surprised she hadn’t heard about from her boss—Nura had put on a smile for the rest of the table and didn’t stick around longer than necessary. Saying that she regretted giving Calum an earful would be a lie; something told her he didn’t have many people talk back to him the way she did, and doing so was as much for herself as it was for him. The guy needed to be brought down a peg or two, and although Nura couldn’t be sure it did the trick, it felt damn good to say what she wanted to.

The look on his face had been pretty fucking satisfying, too.

“Can I sit?”

Nura felt her eyebrows wanting to furrow together at Calum’s words, but she kept her expression blank as she lifted the cup up to her lips and plainly said, “You’re the guest.”

She heard him sigh quietly, exasperatedly, before sitting down on the poolside chair to her right as she took a long sip. A silence settled upon them, awkward and heavy and Nura held back from snapping at him for ruining her peace and quiet. Dozens of other chairs around the pool and he had to pick the one next to her. What damn game was he playing?

Nura looked down at her cup, the drink teasing her just as an unfamiliar scent overpowered the chlorine of the pool. Fresh, kind of citrusy, tickling her nose in a pleasant way. Nura bit the inside of her lower lip when she quickly realized it was whatever cologne Calum was wearing; fuck, of course he smelled good. Of course whatever designer perfumed he owned smelled like a fucking forest god or something. It only served to annoy Nura more.

“I wanted to apologize.” Her eyebrows drew together in a frown, not looking towards Calum as his words resonated in her ears. What? “For what I said the other day. I didn’t—I don’t think I’m better than anyone just because I have money.”

There was a tense discomfort in his voice as he spoke, particularly when he acknowledged whatever financial upper hand he had. Nura knew, instantly, she’d struck a nerve when she had thrown it in his face and, truthfully, she was surprised he was even making the move to apologize. She had dealt with many people on this resort, and most of of them never even considered apologizing to the staff for things said and done. And they were meant to just deal with it with smiles on their faces. 

Hearing Calum apologize, especially when he clearly felt so out of his element because of it, was refreshing. And Nura didn’t take that lightly.

“I’m also sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I got here.” Oh, he was still going. This time, Nura did look at him, brown eyes meeting apologetic brown, showing him that she was listening. The guitar was on his lap—he was practically hugging it, like a security blanket, which was oddly endearing—and his features had settled into soft solemnity. With a breathy, sheepish chuckle, he added, “I know I didn’t make the best first, second or third impression but I swear I’m not usually such a—”

“Self-righteous dick?” Nura supplied, unable to help herself and rolling her lips into her mouth, cheeks flushing. He was trying to apologize and she was basically insulting him.

But Calum let out another chuckle, this one more accepting as he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. Then his lips curled up a bit, a ghost of his signature smirk appearing as he added, “I mean, I’m a dick but not that shitty.”

That had her laughing lightly, some of the tension between them rising into the night sky, allowing Nura to relax slightly as she offered a shrug. It was weird, feeling even a little bit at ease around Calum, but she didn’t find herself minding it too much. “Well, I can be bitch but normally not to that extent.”

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Calum allowed his smirk to widen a bit as he said, “Dare I say we bring it out in each other?”

Nura scoffed with a single shake of her head. “If that’s true then there’s no hope for civility between us.”

Calum grinned a boyish, lower lip biting smile that was a bit too handsome on his face, and Nura took a sip of her drink when she noted the sharp lines of the crinkles by his otherwise soft, smiling eyes. “’S going well so far,” he pointed out as Nura swallowed the sip, watching as he raised the little red pick he’d been twirling between his fingers. “You mind if I. . ?”

“That depends,” Nura hummed, feeling the smirk tug at the corners of her lips. “Is it a free show?”

Calum’s eyes danced with a glimmer and Nura pretended it was a trick of the moonlight as his smirk returned and he sat the guitar properly on his lap. She tried not to focus on his biceps or the ink snaking around his arm as he returned smoothly, “On the house.”

Nura suppressed a laugh, though her smile remained as Calum returned it before his attention went the instrument on his lap. She watched his fingers place themselves in what she assumed were the right places—she knew nothing about instruments—before her gaze lifted ever so slightly to his face. His head was ducked, short dark hair unable to hide the concentration that settled on his features as he took a soft, almost inaudible breath—Nura heard it in the quiet of the poolside—before he began strumming.

The melody he played was soft, tranquil tune and Nura couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. The peace she thought Calum had destroyed with his presence was instantly returned with the gentle strum of his fingers, the rings on his fingers glinting with the movement against the pool lights and the moon above. She watched him; watched the way his attention was solely on what he was playing, the movement of his fingers, and the gentle bop of his head that went along with the tune. 

It didn’t go unnoticed how lost he looked in the music he was playing, and it wasn’t lost on Nura how he was creating magic with his fingers. She knew art when she saw it, when she heard it, and although she knew he was playing a song by Coldplay, he still played it beautifully and expertly. And the more he played, the more at ease Nura found herself being, finishing off her drink and leaning back on one hand as she listened to him. Not exactly how she thought she would end the night, but truthfully. . . She couldn’t complain. As surprised as she was, she couldn’t complain.

“Nura, is that you?”

The tune that had softly filled the night immediately ceased as both Calum and Nura looked up, and she felt her jaw tighten when she caught sight of Keith Holt, the pool supervisor, approach them. He was older than her, around thirty, with surfer style shaggy light brown hair and green eyes and a goatee that made him appear a lot older than he was. She felt her grip on the cup tighten, not entirely keen on being in his presence. Truth be told, Keith kind of creeped Nura out, especially since he’d asked her out last summer and she’d said no. 

“Hi, Keith,” she returned, hoping to keep the nonchalance in her tone as he stopped in front of them.

His gaze looked from her to Calum, eyebrows raising before looking back at her. “You know you’re not supposed to be out here after hours,” he pointed out, and just the tone of his voice had her biting her tongue. Like he was chastising a child with the teasing way he spoke in. Trying to be endearing but only coming off as. . . Creepy.

“Right, right, sorry. Won’t happen again,” Nura said, her words falling quickly as she stood up. The less she could be around Keith, the better. Nura then glanced down at Calum, who had been watching along silently, and she took note of the look in his dark eyes; observant, curious. Forcing a smile, Nura said, “Come on, Calum. We should go.”

Calum met her gaze and maybe he saw the mild urgency in her eyes, the tightness of her smile, and Nura was relieved he didn’t protest it as he nodded and stood up. He gave a nod to Keith, lips flat before saying, “Sorry ’bout that, man.”

Keith watched them with sharp eyes, and just as Nura turned to go, he said, “McNulty won’t be happy if he knew you were sneaking in guests to the pool.”

Nura paused, eyes squeezing shut in exasperation and annoyance, feeling the heat of Calum’s gaze on her profile as she refrained herself from snapping at Keith. Two things he always made Nura feel: discomfort and annoyance. Opening her eyes, she planted the sweetest smile she could muster, all too aware of Calum’s gaze as she looked over her shoulder at Keith and mused, “But he won’t know, will he? Please, Keith?”

She never felt guilty for using his strange likeness of her against him. Keith returned her smile, nodding as he said, “Only because it’s you.” Gross.

“Thank you, Keith,” Nura responded before offering him a wave and making her away out of the pool area.

Her and Calum walked in silence for a few moments, and Nura dropped the plastic cup in a recycle bin they were passing by, Calum broke their quiet by scoffing. “You must dislike that guy more than me—at least with me, you’re better at faking nice,” Calum said, a lightness coloring his tone to ease the tension Nura felt in her muscles.

It had worked, surprisingly. As they walked in the general direction of the staff suites in the building behind the pool area, Nura chuckled lightly. “Just get bad vibes from him,” she chose to say. Simple, but true. She saw Calum nod from her peripheral, one hand still securely holding his guitar as he hummed once in acknowledgment. Nura licked her lips, feeling the awkwardness creep in. “Your, uh, bungalow’s that way,” she found herself adding, gesturing towards the right.

Calum followed her gesture with his eyes before nodding, brown eyes flickering down to meet hers as they walked. “I know. Thought I’d walk you back just—you know, in case.”

The sentiment wasn’t spoken but it wasn’t lost on Nura, and though Calum quickly broke their gaze when he spoke, jaw clenching as he looked straight ahead, Nura still felt her heart pathetically skip a beat. The act of walking her back, just in case Keith decided to be a creep. . . It was sweet, far more than Nura thought he was capable of. 

Fuck, he’d just played the guitar for her by the pool. She was either delirious from her long shift, or she truly couldn’t make sense of reality.

They reached the door to her suite soon enough, and as Nura pulled out her keys, the corners of her lips tilted up as she offered Calum a smile. A real, genuine one she hadn’t given him before. “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, and although the kind tone she spoke to him in felt foreign, it didn’t feel wrong. As she unlocked the door, she added with a gentle smirk, “And the free show.”

At that, Calum’s lips split into a smirk of his own, cheeks pushed up and utterly boyish as he looked down at her. She didn’t miss the way his top teeth just barely grazed his lower lip before he said, “Next one’s gonna cost ya.”

Raising an eyebrow as she opened the door, Nura shot back, “When did I say I wanted another one?”

A mock expression of hurt crossed Calum’s face, sucking in a breath through O shaped lips before he clicked his tongue. “Alright, ouch. Thought we were good now, Nura.”

She smiled, playful and mischievous as she entered her suite, flicking the light on and turning to face Calum, who stood out in the hall. He had his eyebrows raised, waiting for her response, his short laugh echoing in the hallway when all Nura did was hum back, “Maybe,” before shutting the door to end the strange night.

*****

“Fuck,” Calum breathed out, using the towel to wipe the sweat he could feel running down his back as he and Luke exited the resort gym. His triceps, chest and quads had a delicious soreness in them after the workout he and Luke decided to take part in, water bottle nearly empty from downing it. Next to him, Luke chuckled as Calum added, “That felt good.”

“Much fucking needed,” Luke agreed, using his own towel to dab at his face, letting out a sigh of relief when they stepped out of the building and out into the night. The sun had long since set, the resort fluttering with the sounds of the waves and crickets chirping, and the mildly chilly breeze felt refreshing against their warmed, worn out skin. “Hey, is that Nura?”

Calum looked at Luke, noting his narrowed blue eyes looking off ahead, and Calum followed his gaze until his own landed on the woman in question. His eyebrows raised as he saw her, taking a second to recognize the dark haired woman in something other than the resort uniform he always saw her in. Calum’s footsteps slowed without really meaning to, eyes taking in the black skirt, heels, and bandeau top she wore so damn well as her long dark hair danced lightly in the breeze. Shit.

“Hey, Nura!” Calum blinked at Luke’s sudden call, watching as Nura looked the other way before finding the two men who were approaching her—Calum more reluctantly than his best friend. “You look ready for a night out.”

Nura smiled as she took a few steps towards them as well, fingers playing with the chain of the purse that hung off her shoulder. “I am,” she confirmed and Calum distracted himself by pulling his shorts up higher on his waist and checking the time on his phone. Anything to keep himself from letting his gaze linger too long on the pretty woman in front of him. “A couple of the staff and I are going to this club a few blocks away.”

“Really?” Luke hummed, eyebrows raising and Calum had to only glance at him briefly to know what was coming next, an excited glimmer in his blue eyes. His smirk returned, a dimple popping. “Which one?”

Calum wasn’t surprised when about an hour and a half later, he ended up with his friends at the club Nura had mentioned. It wasn’t how Calum had expected the night to go after his gym session with Luke, but he hadn’t been surprised when his friends had immediately agreed to Luke’s proposal of going out, and as soon as everyone was ready, they were piling into Ubers and heading over.

Calum sat in the middle of the U-shaped couch, the table in front of him holding bottles and glasses that glimmered against the strobing blue and purple lights that flickered with the beat of music. Green laser lights flashed against Calum’s eyes every few minutes, but at this point, he’d become accustomed as he sipped from his Negroni, licking his lips as he lowered the glass and let his gaze wander.

His friends were around him, Luke and Sierra on their feet as they danced in their VIP section, singing along to the music while the rest of them remained seated on the couch. It was busy in the club, unsurprising given that it was a weekend as well as the summer, and still Calum found his gaze searching through the silhouettes of people in the dancing crowd or by the bar, trying to catch sight of the familiar face he knew to be there.

He stood eventually, feeling the mild strain in his muscles as he did so, letting out a soft grunt as he decided that he needed to stretch his legs. And if he happened to see Nura somewhere in the crowd, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Calum sipped his drink as he moved around, avoiding as many people as he could from rubbing up against him, shoulders shifting and moving along the wall as he went. His leather jacket stuck to his body, the heat of the club and the dozens of bodies around him only contributing to the warmth he felt, but Calum didn’t mind much—especially not when his eyes finally landed on who he was searching for.

He stopped where he stood, catching sight of Nura leaning by the bar and before he knew it, Calum was making his way over. He shouldered his way through, large frame giving him an advantage to move forward. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so adamant on seeing her, but his feet were moving without much thought and before he knew it, he was right by the bar, up to her left.

Nura seemed to be trying to get the bartender’s attention, and Calum licked his lips after taking a sip of his drink, arms folding on the bar. She didn’t notice him yet, an exasperated sigh escaping her when the bartender once again evaded her, and Calum smirked lightly. “We’ve got bottle service if you’re sick of waiting.”

She glanced over at him, eyebrows lifting in realization before she let out a gentle scoff. Nura stood straight, left hand on her hip and the other braced against the bar as she tilted her head up at him. “Then what’re you doing here?” she rebutted.

Calum looked down at her, doing his best to keep his gaze fixated on her glimmering dark eyes—never daring to go lower in fear of focusing too much on her red lips. She looked gorgeous, and although her eyelashes were long and her face was glittering with makeup, Calum knew she looked stunning all of the time. Hair tied back or loose around her shoulders, face full of makeup or completely bare—Calum could easily admit that Nura was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. Ironic, given how much of a dick he’d been to her.

His people skills had definitely taken a hit lately.

Calum smirked at Nura, shrugging one shoulder as he easily responded, “Rescuing you.”

She scoffed almost incredulously, an amused smile lifting her lips as she locked her gaze with his. “From what?” Nura challenged, narrowing her eyes slightly. “A life without access to the advantages of money? So kind of you, Cal.”

Though her words themselves were sharp, Nura spoke them playfully, a glimmer in her eyes that told him she was just teasing. And while Calum would’ve been insulted before, he merely rolled his eyes at her, pursing his lips before returning, “You gotta be a dick about it?”

Nura grinned, a laugh escaping her as Calum scoffed out a smile as well. She pressed her smiling lips together, glancing over her shoulders and Calum recognized just a few of the faces as some of the staff at the resort, and Nura looked back at him. He saw the hesitant turn her smile took before she gave him a shake of her head. “Thanks for the offer, Calum, but we’re, uh, fine here,” she finally said, a kindness in her tone to show her appreciation for his offer. 

Calum leaned back ever so slightly as he inhaled a small, albeit surprised breath. He hadn’t entirely expected for her to reject the offer, no matter how nicely she’d done it. Calum had become all too used to people jumping on the offer of joining a table he’d bought, too used to being used for the advantages of the size of his bank account. Most people Calum had encountered only ever associated him with what he could do for them, mostly when it came to footing the bill. And while he didn’t at all mind doing it for his closest friends—especially because they never asked him to, always either offered or ended up paying for themselves—Calum had, at one point, become numb in doing it for others. He kind of expected to just do it, because others expected it from him.

Now when he was voluntarily offering to do it for someone else—someone he didn’t really know—the logical rejection had his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and curiosity. “Are you sure?” he found himself asking.

Nura nodded, waving him off. “Yeah, we’ve already got a tab going and, uh, you know—” she paused, gaze taking him in before her brown eyes lifted to meet his. “—staff and guests shouldn’t really fraternize.”

Calum raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by her reasoning. “We’re not on resort grounds.”

She let out a short laugh, gaze averting as she gave a shake of her head before looking at him once more. With a pointed raise of her eyebrow and jut of her chin, Nura finished meaningfully, “Go back to your friends, Calum.”

He did, reluctantly and with a frown on his face, because Calum had a feeling that Nura’s guest and staff mingling reasoning was some type of bullshit—and that her real reason had something to do with her previous comment about the advantages of being in the VIP section.

Calum scoffed to himself as he took a sip of his drink and continued back to where his friends were. He was so used to people throwing themselves at him because of his money—fuck, had a whole relationship based off of it. And now, in the face of someone who actually rejected his offer because of it, Calum kind of felt at a loss. 

Though, because it was Nura, he shouldn’t be surprised. That woman wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever met. And although her comments, at first, had pricked his skin the wrong way, his mind had started to change. As he settled back down on the couch next to Kaykay, his thoughts seemed louder than the deafening music and busy hum of the club. Nura was unlike many of the people he’d encountered in his life, and that suddenly wasn’t such a bad thing.

Around forty minutes and two drinks later, Calum was leaving the bathroom, back pressing against the wall as a group of girls giggled past him as the upbeat music of the club was no longer muffled. His face scrunched as he air dried his hands, no paper towels available in the bathroom and the machine was out of service, and just as he turned the corner to enter the main part of the club, Calum came across a sight that had him slowing down, eyebrows knitting together as he watched Nura in conversation with that guy from the pool the other day. Keith, he vaguely remembered.

Except it didn’t seem to look like a conversation Nura was particularly enjoying, Keith’s figure easily looming over her shorter stature as she frowned up at him, shaking her head as she talked animatedly. The other night, Calum hadn’t been blind to the quick escape Nura had made from Keith at the pool, remembered how she had said she got “bad vibes” from the guy, and it only had an alarm bell ringing through Calum’s head when his sharp eyes caught Keith’s hand reach out to grab Nura’s, who instinctively pulled hers away.

She had said earlier she didn’t need rescuing, but Calum couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away knowing Nura wasn’t comfortable with the guy.

“Hey, Nura,” Calum smoothly stepped up to her left, catching the way she instantly looked up at him with raised eyebrows, the surprise evident in her features. She expertly wiped it off as Calum’s dark eyes met hers, an easy smile on his face as he jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “Everyone’s lookin’ for you at the table.”

Nura’s red lips parted in realization, eyes shining with relief before she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, sorry—I was just coming to you guys,” she answered. Then, looking back at Keith, who was watching them with a frown and an irritated look Calum didn’t care for much, Nura told him, “Like I said, Keith, I’m here with friends and I’m not really in the mood to leave yet.”

Calum’s jaw tightened at her words, fighting to keep the easy smile on his face though he felt his fingers curling into the palm of his hand as he realized Keith’s intentions. He stood still, feet planted in place and giving no dancing body around him the power to push into him. He wouldn’t move until Nura was going with him.

Keith looked between the two of them, failing to ease the smile he wore as he asked Nura, “Are you sure? We could—”

“I’m good, Keith,” Nura cut him off pointedly, and Calum’s lips twitched into an annoyed curl at Keith’s insistence. She was already turning away as she added, “I’ll see you later.”

Calum’s brown eyes lifted to meet Keith’s green, unapologetic about the warning glare that crossed his features as Keith’s lips thinned. Nura’s hand then grabbed Calum’s leather clad arm and was pulling him away, releasing him once they were somewhat engulfed in the crowd and over the music, she shouted to Calum, “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” Calum responded, feeling the tension in his muscles ease now that they were away from Keith. This time, Calum grasped her arm, his touch light on her warm skin, ducking his head slightly as Nura looked up at him. “But, seriously, Nura—you and your friends should join us.”

Her lips parted, ready to object. “But—”

Rolling his eyes, Calum cut her off with a wave of his free hand. “Look, I know you don’t want to take advantage of my money after shitting on it so much, but I insist.”

He watched the way her jaw slackened in amused incredulity, staring up at him as a short bout of laughter escaped her and he grinned, knowing he’d caught her off guard. Nura grinned and Calum desperately tried to keep his gaze away from the way her tongue trailed across her lower lip, raising his eyebrows expectantly as she considered his offer with an averted gaze.

Finally, she let out a groan, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as she gave in, “Alright, fine, fine.”

Calum grinned triumphantly, unable to stop himself from draping his arm around Nura’s shoulders to guide her towards their table as she pulled out her phone to let her friends know where to go. 

At one point of the night, when Nura was two margaritas in and was sitting in one corner of the couch, she felt someone sit down to her left and glanced to see Luke settling in, head leaning back and long legs spread. She feared someone would trip on them, given that almost everyone was on their feet, drinking and dancing.

With an amused chuckle escaping her, Nura asked him, “You good?”

“I’m great,” Luke answered with a chuckle, dimples shadowing his features, splashed in the purple and blue lights of the club. Sitting up properly, he offered her a smile. “Thanks for showing us this place—it’s awesome.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Nura laughed lightly, glancing forward to see Ashton pour Elaine and Willa another drink. “Thanks for my showing my friends and I how the VIPs roll,” she added with a teasing grin, earning a laugh from Luke in return.

“Your first time?” he questioned and when Nura nodded, Luke laced his fingers together, sitting forward with his arms resting on his thighs. “Yeah, I remember mine—it was ’cause of Cal, actually. He knew I wanted to go to a Laker’s game for my eighteenth birthday and couldn’t afford to go and he knew, like, I was incapable of accepting a court side ticket, even if it was for my birthday. He ended up getting tickets for all of us just so I had a great birthday.” Luke scoffed with a smile, shaking his head as he leaned back. “He’s a good friend, no doubt about it.”

Nura listened to him intently, unable to help the way her eyebrows raised slightly at Luke’s story. Court side tickets to an NBA game weren’t cheap and although Nura knew Calum had money, the fact that he would get several tickets for all of his friends just so Luke could have a good birthday had her heart warming. She sipped her drink after a soft “wow,” escaped her, chewing on the straw as she acknowledged the small bit of guilt she felt pool in the pit of her stomach for calling Calum out about his money. She didn’t entirely regret it, given how their first few interactions had went, but Luke’s story only confirmed a thought that had been brewing in Nura’s mind: Crystal had been right, that night in the bathroom. Calum was proving himself to be not as bad as Nura had originally thought, especially when he pulled her away from Keith and had her and her friends join him and his friends.

She had always prided herself in reading people with the job she had; maybe, just this once, she was just a little bit wrong.

*****

Her room smelled like Chinese food and rain, and Nura loved every bit of it. Having woken up a couple of hours ago, she showered off last night’s booze stench and as she put on  her lounge shorts—pajamas on top for the few minutes she took to pray—

and an oversized Queen shirt, she ordered Chinese food enough to feed a family of four. It was her day off—which was one of the few reasons why she had decided to go out last night—and she fully intended on sitting in her bed with her food with Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the TV right across.

Until a knock sounded on her door.

She sighed exasperatedly, her food already spread out on a tray on the bed, and got off the bed, blinking in surprise when she opened it and there stood Calum. “What’re you doing here?” Nura asked, eyebrows raised before they knitted together. “Did you walk in the rain?”

Calum, with his hands buried in the pockets of the black rain jacket he wore, responded with a dry smile as he responded sarcastically, “Oh, good afternoon to you, too, Nura. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

She pressed her lips together briefly, expression deadpanning before she stepped to the side and let him in. It wasn’t like it was down pouring outside—which was why she didn’t feel bad about ordering takeout—but the drizzling still had Calum’s dark hair wet, as well as his jacket. “Good afternoon, Calum,” Nura stated, a sweet smile gracing her lips that had Calum scoffing as she gestured for him to take off his jacket. “What’re you doing here?”

What could possibly have made him cross half of the resort to get to her room? Especially in the rain? She raised her eyebrow at him as she hung his jacket on the row of hooks behind the door, facing him with her arms crossing over her chest.

Was she imagining the sheepish expression that softened his features, hand raising to run through the short strands of his wet, dark hair as he let out a chuckle. “I just, uh,” Calum paused, clearing his throat before settling for a small, boyish smile. “Wanted to check in on you, after last night. How’s the hangover treating you?”

Nura felt her lips part ever so slightly at his words, expression relaxing into a subtle surprise at the thoughtfulness he was displaying. All of them had gotten pretty drunk last night, a time well spent, and she remembered Calum, Michael, and Crystal walking her back to her room before they went to theirs. She also remembered throwing up last night—fortunately she’d made it to the toilet—and had brushed her teeth thoroughly before taking a shower and deciding to order her favorite hangover food.

Calum didn’t have to come to check on her, especially when it was raining, but it was an unexpected gesture she felt warming her heart as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m actually about to dig into some hangover food,” Nura laughed lightly, gesturing to the bed where the Chinese spread was laid out. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth, considering her next words carefully. Technically, Calum shouldn’t even be in her room. Nura was well aware of that. She was also well aware of how she didn’t want to kick him out. So she smiled up at him and asked, “Care to join?”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up, gaze flickering to the bed before resting on her once more, unsurely. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to, like, show up and—”

She cut him off with a roll of her eyes, turning to go back to her bed and giving him no chance but to follow. He joined her as he sat next to her at the head of the bed, back against the headboard and Nura leaned down to open the mini fridge by the wall. “Water or Coke?” she asked him as she felt the mattress shift under her while he settled.

“Water, thanks,” Calum responded, taking the bottle from her before chuckling at the spread. Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked, “Do you always order this much food?”

“When I’m hungover? Hell yeah,” Nura chuckled, quickly pressing play on the TV before picking up the container of white rice and putting some on her paper plate.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they helped themselves to the food and watched the show play on TV, and as she leaned back against her pillows, legs crossed and plate in her hand, Nura couldn’t help but think how strangely this situation had progressed. She didn’t make a habit of having resort guests in her suite—in fact, it never happened. She kept her distance, especially since many of the ones she encountered were people Nura was fine with never seeing again. It wasn’t lost on her how Calum had been one of those type of guests when he first arrived.

But something had changed that night at the pool, where they’d been able to be civil to one another for more than a few seconds after Calum had apologized for the things he had said and the way he had acted. No longer was he another guest with some kind of superiority complex the amount of money he had gave him, nor was he the asshole who tried to get under Nura’s skin on purpose. Things had shifted between them without Nura truly being able to comprehend the moment it happened, but now that it had, she couldn’t complain. Hanging out with guests on company property wasn’t allowed, and Nura wasn’t a risk taker, and yet. . . She didn’t want to kick him out of the room. Especially when he made the little noises that came with the opening theme of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

It felt easy, sitting in her room, eating Chinese and watching one of her favorite shows. Calum had taken off his shoes, legs crossed as he ate the shrimp lo-mein, a comfortable silence between them only broken by the TV and the gentle rainfall that had surprised them. Nura didn’t care that she probably looked like a bum, too comfortable in her clothes and her hair falling messily around her shoulders, even though the guy next to her looked unsurprisingly good even if he was in only a pair of athletic shorts and a shirt. She was definitely not checking out the way the muscles of his tattooed arm flexed whenever he reached for his water bottle.

Nura quickly focused on her attention on the show, watching the episode play out. And in her purposefully sought out distraction, she’d momentarily forgotten who she was sitting next to, and after swallowing a bite of her food absently murmured out, “I would totally hook up with young Scully.”

Calum’s short, incredulous laugh pulled her into reality, and Nura’s face flushed in realization as she shoved another forkful of rice and orange chicken into her mouth. She was surprised, then, when Calum hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Really? I’d go for young Hitchcock. He’s got nice hair.”

Nura blinked before looking at Calum, face scrunched up in skeptical confusion. “You’d go for him because he’s got nice hair?” she repeated dubiously, scoffing with a shake of her head despite Calum’s defensive slackened jaw. “That’s not a reason to get with someone!”

His lips parted, incoherent protesting exclaims escaping him before he gestured to the TV with a challenging furrow of his brows. “Why do you wanna get with Scully?”

“Because!” Nura started, earning an expectant raise of eyebrows from Calum as he gestured with a shake of his head for her to continue, and Nura rolled her smiling lips into her mouth as the laugh threatened to escape. She pushed herself further into her headboard before admitting, “He’s got a nice jawline. And he’s taller than Hitchcock.”

Calum’s expression fell flat, before his dark eyes narrowed almost comedically and he rebuked, “So basically my reason isn’t as superficial as yours?”

Her cheeks heated up before she waved him off, looking towards the TV once more and saying, “Shut up, watch the show,” which only earned a laugh from him.

They continued watching in silence, the food slowly lessening as they kept eating. By the time the next episode started, Nura was full and Calum was asking her, “Did you read all of these?” She glanced over, catching him looking at the five novels piled on the bedside table, picking up the top one. It was her favorite book, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Nura hummed in confirmation and as Calum opened the book and flipped through the pages, let out a soft, incredulous breath. “Shit—not a page left unmarked, huh?”

She laughed after taking a sip of her Coke. “That’s my favorite book—have you read it?” When Calum gave a shake of his head, eyes still taking in her writing in the margins and the highlights, Nura continued, “You should. It’s beautiful. And the marks are just how I read.” She chuckled lightly. “The dream’s to work in the editing field of a publishing firm. Reading new stories all day from all kinds of people is, like, the perfect way to spend my time.”

Calum looked at her upon hearing her words, eyebrows raising in surprise and what Nura thought was a hint of admiring as his lips curled into a smile. He nodded, smile soft and warm that sent a flutter ripple through Nura’s stomach. “That’s pretty cool, Nura,” he said. 

“Thanks,” she returned, unable to keep the smile off her face. Whether it was because of Calum or the topic at hand, she couldn’t be sure. For her own sanity, she chalked it up to the latter. “I worked as an editorial intern the past two years during the school year, so that really helped with my resume. I’m hoping to hear back from a couple of places I applied to soon. With any luck, this’ll be my last summer working here.”

“I’m sure you’ll get loads of acceptances,” Calum nodded, voice holding a kind of sincerity she hadn’t heard before as he put the book back down.

Nura twisted her lips to the side briefly before offering, “Do you wanna borrow the book? I mean, if you’ve got free time to read since you’re, like, here for a while.”

Calum glanced at the copy before raising an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, a bit too quickly, before smiling. “Yeah, totally. Just don’t drop it in the ocean.”

He scoffed out a laugh, grin showing off those crinkles by his eyes Nura found too adorable. “Yeah, thanks,” he agreed before pushing up from the bed, raising an eyebrow at her. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Nura hummed, gesturing to the door off on the left that Calum soon disappeared behind. She leaned back against the headboard once more with a happy sigh, no longer trying to make sense of this situation as she watched the show play in front of her. Though, that only lasted for a few moments as knocking on the front door interrupted her. She paused the TV before heading over, jaw instantly tightening as she mentally chastised herself for opening the door.

“How can I help you, Keith?” Nura asked, hoping she kept the heavy disdain out of her voice as much as possible. She hadn’t forgotten last night when he had tried to get her to leave the club with him, only ceasing his insistence when Calum had swept in to pull her away. That rescue, she was appreciative of.

“Hi, Nura,” he returned with that smile of his that never settled well with her. His hands were clasped behind his back as he looked down at her. Unlike Calum, he looked like a wet dog because of the rain. “Something about last night has been bothering me.” She quirked an eyebrow; was he going to apologize for being so pushy? “That guy you were talking to last night—isn’t he a guest here?”

Nura stared up at him, bewildered and taken aback at his question. That’s what was bothering him? Her grip on the door handle tightened, shoulders squaring and chin lifting as she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Yes,” she answered, albeit slightly hesitantly. Her stomach twisted, not liking where this was going. 

Keith hummed with his lips pressed together, eyebrows raising, and expression reading one of I hate to do this to you, but. . . “You know employees aren’t allowed to mingle with guests like that, Nura.”

Was he fucking serious? Nura didn’t think it was possible for him to get more annoying, and yet he was proving her wrong. She fought from letting her aggravation show on her features, keeping them as neutral as possible as she calmly responded, “Yeah, but we weren’t on company property, Keith.” She saw the corner of his lips twitch in annoyance. She knew she was right, and his desire to seek her out and try to make some power move over her only fueled her dislike of him. “And it’s not like I was the only one there. Have you talked to the other employees I was with? Or am I the only one on your agenda?”

Keith scoffed through his nose, looking down at her with a miffed curl of his lips. “I was getting to them,” he said, voice slightly strained, and Nura wanted to laugh. Bullshit. He was only ever going to try and hold it over her head. “If you’re seen entertaining the guests in more than a professional capacity, I’m afraid I’ll have to report you to McNulty.”

Nura’s jaw slackened at his words, staring up at him in disbelief with an angry knot tightening in her stomach. Her grip on the door handle tightened, the metal digging into her palm as she pressed her teeth together and exhaled through her nose. He was threatening her. The son of a bitch was actually threatening her because she was, what, becoming friends with some of the guests? As opposed to normally wanting to be as far away from them as possible and cursing them out behind their back?

She was too speechless to say anything in return, to tell him to shut the fuck up or mind his own damn business, and Keith merely smiled at her and said, “Have a good one, Nura.”

She stared at the space where he stood for a brief moment until her thoughts kicked in and Nura slammed the door shut with an aggravated grunt. “What the fuck,” she muttered through strained teeth, fingers running through her hair as she stepped away from the door.

“Shit—was that because of me?”

Nura’s breath caught in her throat, momentarily forgetting of the man that had been in her bathroom until she caught sight of Calum, leaning against the wall on his left shoulder and a frown on his face. Nura licked her lips, hands clasped behind her back as she leaned against the wall opposite of him. She saw the downturn of his lips, looking bothered by the conversation he had just overheard.

“No,” Nura answered with a sigh, giving a shake of her head. She saw the guilt that caused him to chew his lower lip and she found herself wanting to get rid of it. “That was just Keith. . . Being a piece of shit.”

“Are you sure?” Calum asked, frown deepening. He crossed his arms and Nura’s gaze flickered briefly at the way his biceps became more apparent, the tattoos only making her throat dry. “He sounded pretty—”

“Petty? Bitter?” Nura supplied with a scoff. She rolled her eyes, looking off towards the window. The awning above her window prevented the rain from getting into the room, working with the screen on the window itself. The sound of rain only served to calm her now irritated nerves. “I’m not gonna stop being friends with you just because he’s unjustifiably jealous.”

Calum raised his eyebrows at her and Nura saw the ghost of a smirk curl at his lips. With a subtle tilt of his head, he asked teasingly, “We’re friends now?”

Nura felt her cheeks heat up, smile turning shy and embarrassed as she pressed her palms against the wall behind her. Friends may be pushing it, but Nura believed that they were getting there. She definitely didn’t find him as rude and terrible as she had before, the change more or less slapping her in the face. But whatever they were now, it was far from annoying guest and disgruntled employee. His gaze felt heavy, playful, and Nura melted under it. Feigning confidence with a life of her chin, she shot back, “I took full advantage of your bottle service last night; yes, we’re friends.”

Calum laughed at that, grin wide and real and showing off those crinkles and annoyingly perfect white teeth. His laugh held a rasp that sent a shiver down her spine as he ducked his head, nodding along in agreement. When his head lifted, brown eyes meeting her own, Nura felt a calmness in her chest, a flutter in her stomach especially when he confirmed, “Right. We’re friends.”

*****

Nura had seen a ghost. Or, at least, that’s what she looked like.

Calum watched her from where he sat at the table with Kaykay and Ashton, eyebrows knitting together behind his sunglasses as he watched her listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone call she’d taken. He saw it in the way her lips parted, shoulders rising and falling with the quick breaths she’d began taking and how she had reached behind her to grip the guard railing around the outdoor section of the restaurant. Her ponytail danced in the wind but it didn’t do anything to hide the alarmed expression painted across her face.

It wasn’t his business, he knew it wasn’t, but the way she pocketed her phone and ran a hand down her chin, looking around with a panicked gaze before her quick feet took her to the inside the restaurant had a worried knot forming in Calum’s stomach. Before he knew it, he was pushing back his chair and was on his feet, barely hearing Ashton’s, “Where’re you going?”

Calum only granted him and Kaykay with an absent, “Be right back,” already halfway into the restaurant.

He folded his sunglasses on the neckline of his shirt and looked around, not even acknowledging the other guests on different tables as his eyes searched for Nura. He found her talking to the guy he recognized as the manager, who put a hand on her shoulder and nodded at her, a look of reassurance on her face. Nura was quick to nod, hands reaching behind her to untie the knot of her apron as she handed it to him and began making her way towards the exit.

Calum moved quickly, following her as his eyebrows drew together, his longer legs allowing him to get in front of her with a hasty, “Nura, hey—are you okay?”

Nura stopped short, her gaze lifting to meet his, and up close Calum saw the panic and mild fear swirling in her dark irises that only had his worried frown deepening. Her eyebrows drew together, the distress clear in her features as she let out a sharp breath. “Yeah, I just—” Her throat worked, licking her lips as she glanced away briefly. “My mom’s sick—she has, uh, a bad case of the stomach flu and I’m just really worried, y’know? It’s just her and my brother back home and I, uh, I need to go see her.”

Calum pressed his lips together, feeling a weight settle on his chest as he took in her hoarse voice, thick with concern. She looked out of it, which Calum understood as he asked, “You’re gonna drive back?”

“No, I’m gonna fucking take a magic carpet, Calum.” He clamped his mouth shut, her words as sharp as her voice and, again, he understood. He kept his gaze on her, eyes soft and features worried, and Nura squeezed her eyes shut as she brought her hands up and covered her face, a soft groan muffled in her palms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—shit.” She dropped her hands, sad eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m driving, why?”

Despite her snapping at him, Calum hadn’t really carefully considered the next few words that tumbled out of his mouth, rushing them out in an uncharacteristic ramble, “Let me drive you—I mean, it’s none of my business but I just—I don’t want you on the road by yourself when you’re so worried about your mom, y’know? I can take you. Let me help.”

It sounded so stupid once the words were out of his mouth, and although Calum’s intentions were purely just for the purpose of wanting to be there for Nura, he understood how they could be misinterpreted. But, shit, seeing her so worried, so frazzled, had his heart leaping out of his chest and he wanted to be able to do something. This had nothing to do with him, but he wanted to help, wanted to be there for her.

Nura gaped up at him, completely taken aback by his offer, eyes holding nothing but disbelief. Half of him expected her to tell him to fuck off, so he was pleasantly surprised when all she did was stammer out a bewildered, “I—no, Calum. You don’t have to. Y-You’re on vacation. Why would you even—”

“Because, uh, you gave me a really good book to read.” He said it with a soft smile, a real smile, and at this point he was willing to give her any reason or excuse in the book if it meant she would accept his help. He still had so much time left on his vacation, what was a little time away from the resort if it meant making sure Nura and her family were okay?

They’d become friends over the past two weeks, and Calum had a bit of a habit of going above and beyond for his friends.

Nura scoffed slightly, lips just barely curling up in a smile she couldn’t afford right now. He didn’t want her to smile if she couldn’t. Not when her mom was sick. “It’d be a three day thing, Calum. I’ll be running around doing errands for my mom and—”

“And I’ll help you with them,” Calum cut in, his words earning a skeptical eyebrow raise from Nura. His shoulders dropped, thinning his lips at her as he told her dryly, “I can help you.”

“You’ll help me or pay someone to help?” Nura retorted and Calum was glad even in a tense, worrisome moment such as this, she still found it in herself to joke around. Even if it was at his expense. At this point, her poking fun at him for his financial status was something he truly found amusing. It was way better than her taking advantage of it.

“I’ll help you,” he said with a roll of his eyes. When Nura rolled her lips into her mouth, seemingly considering his words, Calum dropped his chin and raised his eyebrows at her, silently encouraging her to say yes. “Let me come with you.”

Her dark eyes met his, looking as if she was searching for something in his gaze. Whatever she found, she must have liked because she finally dropped her shoulders and sighed with a nod. “Okay.”

The two and a half hour drive to Homestead was filled with Nura’s playlist playing in the car, a variety of songs Calum approved of as he lowly sang along to them. Nura didn’t talk much in the car, opting to stare out the window and chew on her unpainted nails, only speaking up when she told him a faster, easier route than what the GPS dictated. Calum didn’t mind her silence, though he hoped she wasn’t letting the worry consume her, knowing there was no real way he could stop it from happening.

His friends had been surprised in his new plan, but none of them tried to talk him out of it. Not like Calum expected them to; they’d all come to really like Nura and thought it was sweet of Calum to help her out in whatever way he could. Nura had just looked too overwhelmed, too scared for Calum to let her go on her own. 

When they finally pulled into the driveway of a one story house in a cul-de-sac, Nura broke the silence as she turned off the music in the car. As they unbuckled their seatbelts, Calum felt her gaze on him before she commented, “You’ve got a nice voice.” He looked at her and she smiled. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“It’s just—” Calum stammered and he felt something heat up his cheeks. Since when did he fall over his words? “Just in the car and the shower.”

Nura’s smile was sweet, words sweeter, “You’re really good.”

She got out of the car then, and Calum let out a slow exhale as he followed her actions, glancing up at the bright blue sky and wondering when his heart learned to skip a beat or two. They grabbed their duffels out of the car and Calum followed her up to the front door after handing her the keys, which she then used to unlock the door and step inside. 

Just as the door opened, Calum heard a woman’s voice from inside call out, “Nura, is that you?”

“Yeah, Mama,” Nura called back and as Calum shut the door, she toed off her shoes by the corner and he followed her lead, placing his Docs properly with the other sandals and sneakers already there. He then looked over to the living room to the immediate right, caught sight of a woman who had apparently been lying down on the couch sit up as Nura dropped her bag on the floor and walked over, “Asalamalaikum.”

Nura’s mother stood up, dressed in a printed tunic and leggings as she smiled and returned, “Walaikumasalam,” before putting her arms out so Nura could walk into her mother’s hug. He saw Mrs. Ansari close her eyes as she hugged Nura, a smile on her tired face as she said something in a foreign language.

“I’m good,” Nura answered her before pulling away, which was when Mrs. Ansari’s eyes landed on Calum, who was lingering in the entrance a bit too awkwardly. He felt out of place, the strap of his duffel feeling heavy on his shoulder as he offered a small smile. At her mother’s questioning look, Nura said, “Oh, Mama, this is Calum. He drove me here.”

Mrs. Ansari blinked in confusion as she looked at Nura. “Why didn’t you drive yourself?”

Nura scoffed. “Because I was basically in a catatonic state after finding out you were sick. Calum offered to come with me.”

Mrs. Ansari shot her daughter a flat look at the first part of her statement, but then her lips lifted into a kind smile as she looked at Calum. “It’s nice to meet you Calum. Thank you for accompanying Nura.”

He felt some of the awkward tension in his muscles ease as he returned her smile, chuckling lightly. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Ansari. And, really, it was no problem.” His eyes met Nura’s as he added. “It was the right thing to do.”

Mrs. Ansari’s smile widened before stepping back and gesturing to the couch. “Please, come sit,” she said to him before settling on the smaller couch by the window. 

Calum walked further into the living room, taking note of the pictures on the wall. Many of them of Nura, especially when she was younger, with a boy who he figured was her brother and lots of family photos of them with their parents. But Nura hadn’t mentioned her father, and if he was still in the pictures put up on the wall, Calum could only correctly imagine where he was.

“So, Mama,” Nura said, settling on the three seater couch that Calum sat on the other end of, putting his bag down as Nura focused on her mother. “Kya hua? Bilal said you’ve been sick for a few days? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, beta,” Mrs. Ansari said with a click of her tongue, as if she hadn’t wanted Nura’s brother telling her. “The doctor prescribed me antibiotics and I’m getting a lot of rest. I’m not contagious anymore, which is good, Alhamdulillah, but I’ve just been feeling a lot of weakness.”

Calum noted the worry on Nura’s features, in the furrow of her eyebrows as she looked at her mom. “Is it getting any better with the medicine?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ansari nodded, shifting so she had brought her legs up on the couch, back resting against the arm rest as she faced Nura and Calum. “Really, baby, I should be fine in a few days. You didn’t have to come.”

“I was worried,” Nura told her. “I’m staying for the weekend, okay?” When Mrs. Ansari opened her mouth to protest, Nura shook her head. “No, Mama. I already told them I’d be here and I have lots of personal days so it’s fine. Deal with it.”

Calum felt his lips curl up slightly in amusement as Mrs. Ansari let out a sigh with a roll of her eyes. Clearly she wasn’t the type who particularly liked being fussed over. “Acha, fine.” Then she glanced at Calum before looking back at her daughter and gesturing to the kitchen. “Oh, go get him some water or something. Don’t just sit there.”

Nura’s face scrunched up, looking over at Calum who had rolled his lips into his mouth. Nura scoffed, telling her mom, “He can get it himself.”

He suppressed the chuckle. He should’ve seen that one coming—why should she have to serve him in her own home when she already did so at the resort? Except Mrs. Ansari didn’t see it that way, clicking her tongue as she warned, “Nura.”

Rolling her eyes with a huff, Nura stood up reluctantly. “Fine,” she grumbled, shooting Calum a sharp look as she walked past him, only to stop before facing her mom again. “If you’re not contagious anymore, I’ll sleep with you so Calum can have my bed.” Mrs. Ansari nodded and Nura shifted her gaze to him, raising an eyebrow. “Hope you’re okay with downgrading to a full sized bed.”

Calum scowled after her, shaking his head at her dig before looking back at Mrs. Ansari, letting himself smile at the woman watching him. She then sat up, voice coating with curiosity as she spoke up. “Nura said you were friends—do you work at the resort, too?”

Calum’s lips parted, half feeling the need to give into the lie. But he quickly talked himself out of that useless point, fingers laced together as he let out an almost sheepish chuckle. “Oh, no. I’m, uh, actually staying there with a few of my friends. I met Nura on my first day there.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Ansari sounded, eyebrows raising in intrigue. She tilted her head before asking, “And you left to accompany Nura?” Calum’s throat worked, not entirely sure if she approved of his actions or not. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. No doubt it was strange that her daughter arrived to help out with a man she hadn’t seen before. It probably looked fucking weird, but Calum didn’t regret it. So he nodded quietly, felt something ease in him when Mrs. Ansari smiled and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

He returned her grin just as Nura reappeared, a tall glass of water in her hand that she begrudgingly offered him. His smile only widened, finding the pout puckering her lips really fucking adorable. With a tick of her head, she said, “I’ll show you to your room for the weekend.”

Just a few moments later, Calum was stepping inside Nura’s bedroom, utterly neat and minimalistic in every aspect. The bed was perfectly made, bright green plants in one corner of the room, a study desk opposite of the bed and a bookshelf filled to the brim with books—which was not at all surprising to him. To the left of the door they’d walked through was a dressing table, only a few makeup and belongings on top as Calum remembered most of them being in Nura’s suite back at the resort. The walls were a pastel mauve color, so light he had to squint to see it, and the floor free of carpet, the wood sleek under his sock clad feet. There was a picture frame on the single bedside table next to the lamp and alarm clock, a photo of a younger Nura with a man he recognized from the other pictures in the living room. Her dad, Calum could tell. Same eyes, same nose.

As he carefully put his duffel down on the floor next to the bed, Calum turned to see Nura leaning against the wall by the door, eyes on him. She was watching him intently, a small smile teasing the corner of her lips, and Calum raised his eyebrows under her gaze. Did he look out of place? He kind of felt like it, but the room smelled of vanilla and shea butter, a scent he had come to recognize Nura by, and he didn’t want to admit how easy it would be to fall asleep engulfed in it.

“What?” Calum finally asked with a low chuckle, wondering what was running through her mind.

Nura grinned, teeth biting into her lower lip as she glanced out the door. She then looked at him, the sun seeping through the window washing her brown skin in a pretty glow as she quietly, conspiringly, said, “I’ve never had a boy in this room before.”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up at that, feeling his smile return. Not what he had been expecting, but the way she had admitted it was tugging at his heart. From what Calum knew, Nura was Muslim, and although there were certain parts of the religion she did and didn’t practice—as far as he knew from what she had told him—he wasn’t surprise over the lack of boys that entered this room. He felt like a fucking thirteen year old boy at the mild case of excitement twisting his stomach as he asked, “Really?”

“Mhm,” Nura nodded with a gentle laugh. “I mean, my mom’s not so conservative, but my dad was. So, y’know, no boys ever stepped foot into the room when he was around. But, like, he passed when I was fifteen and after that, I still didn’t wanna bring boys in here. So, yeah,” Nura chuckled a bit nervously. “You’re the first.”

Calum felt his smile soften, briefly biting the inside of his cheek as Nura’s eyes met his. They gleamed against the sunlight, a sight he wouldn’t ever get tired of. “Well, I’m honored.” Nura laughed lightly, watching as Calum looked around her room some more, his grin returning as he gestured towards the bookshelf with an amused, “That doesn’t surprise me.” She rolled her eyes, unashamed of her overflowing shelf and Calum sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers linking together in the space between his legs. “Reminds me of my room; I’ve got this, like, big shelf filled with old vinyls and albums and stuff.”

Nura raised her eyebrows, teasing smile upturning her lips. “Really? You’re into music?” She blew air through her lips. “I had no idea.” He shot her a look at her sarcastic tone, earning a laugh from Nura. “Is it just a hobby? Your collection of music?”

He took a breath, hands bracing behind him on the mattress as he leaned back a bit. Her question was simple, innocent enough, yet it had Calum pausing to consider the thoughts running through his head. Music was the only thing that kept Calum sane; it was the only thing, other than his friends’ support, that kept him together when all of the bullshit with Dawn had happened. Playing his guitar was a hobby, but he found relief in collecting vinyls and records and listening to music. The way Nura lost herself in the books she read, it was the same for Calum when all of his focus went into the lyrics being sung and chords being played. He wanted to make a life out of his love for music, whether it be collecting his favorite records or selling them—hell, he knew how to play a few instruments, he wouldn’t mind teaching others how to play, either.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered Nura, catching the silent inquiring look that crossed her face. “I guess. . .” He trailed off with a thoughtful furrow of his eyebrows, head tilting back as he gazed up at the ceiling. “It wouldn’t be so bad, making some kind of career out of it. Maybe then I’ll have an appreciation for hard work.”

His last statement was spoken with a knowing smirk shot at Nura, who scoffed out a laugh as she remembered those words all too clearly—she’d snapped them at him that night at the restaurant. Her laugh had Calum grinning, and Nura ran her fingers through her hair as she shrugged. “If you’ve got the means to do it, I’d say that’s a wise way to spend your money,” she told him, the encouraging tone not lost on him.

Calum smiled. It felt. . . Good that someone other than his best friends thought his idea was one worth pursuing. He doubted his parents would care much what he did, too busy with their own business and too invested to let go of it any time soon. Something loosened in Calum’s chest at Nura’s smile, tone appreciative as he simply said, “Noted.”

*****

“I thought Billy liked barbecue chips—these are salt and vinegar.”

“Yeah, those are for me—hey, put them back in the cart!”

“Nura, we’re supposed to be shopping for your mom and Billy, not you!”

“A girl has her needs, damn it, Calum.”

He pursed his lips with a shake of his head, shooting Nura a look as she huffed and continued to push the cart along. The two of them continued down the aisles of Wal-Mart, finally heading towards the check-out with their stuffed cart. Nura may have gone a bit overboard, but it was their last day in Homestead and she wanted to make sure the fridge, freezer, and pantry were fully stocked before they left.

The past three days had been nothing short of interesting. It was a strange dynamic, having Calum around, and Nura was surprised how well he got along with her mom and Billy—which was kind of understandable, given that he hadn’t acted like a dick to them right off the bat as he did with her. But that was in the past.

In fact, Calum had been a huge help around the house, despite Nura’s constant teasing that he took in stride—and knew he deserved it, especially when he nearly sucked up one of Billy’s DS cartridges in the vacuum. Other than that near mishap, he helped her around the house, surprising Nura with his efficiency in the kitchen, got along really well with Billy and played video games with her seventeen year old brother, and had been quick with a small garbage can when Mrs. Ansari vomiting acted up and she couldn’t make it to the bathroom on time.

He hadn’t even been disgusted, and if Nura ever had any doubt about the kind of man Calum was, it was gone.

If anything, she could feel her heart pick up its pace every time he looked at her, felt the butterflies tickle her stomach whenever he smiled. She was falling, and it was probably a bad idea, but she didn’t care. 

“We’ve got everything?” Calum checked as they got to the self-checkout, eyeing the cart with a small smirk.

Nura snorted. “For the house and even some road trip snacks, yes.”

The two of them worked together as Nura scanned the items and Calum bagged them before putting them back int he cart, and not for the first time this weekend she found herself thinking how good of a team they made. Who knew the pretty rich boy was good at mundane things he could pay people to do?

When the last of the items were scanned and bagged, Nura reached into her purse to grab her wallet, eyebrows knitting together when she didn’t find it. “Huh?” she sounded, confused, as she opened it and dug through, groaning when she realized she didn’t have it. She didn’t even think about how she’d driven to Wal-Mart without her license on her, but was more pressed about the fact that now there was no way to pay for her groceries. Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Calum asked, eyebrows knitting together.

Nura’s shoulders fell, turning to look at him with disdain on her features with a little bit of self-loathing. “I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

Calum blinked. “Oh.” Then he stepped towards her and Nura watched as he pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket and slid out a credit card. “We can just use mine.”

Nura’s eyes widened, grabbing his bicep as she stopped him. “Wait, no—I can’t let you pay for two hundred dollars’ worth of groceries, Calum.”

He looked down at her, a furrow in his eyebrows as if he didn’t understand the problem. It was stupidly endearing. “Yes, you can.” Then with a chuckle, he added, “Not like you have much of a choice, Nura. It’s okay.”

Her stomach twisted, eyebrows knitting deeply as she barely sounded a protesting, “But—” when Calum inserted his credit card. She took a breath before chewing on her lips, not entirely feeling right about this. Logically, Nura knew he had the money, knew that two hundred dollars wasn’t much to him, but that wasn’t the point. Taking care of her family was something Nura had become accustomed to; she and her mom did it together, even Billy chipped in with the summer jobs he’d get. It had always been the three of them, and while she definitely appreciated Calum’s kindness, it just felt strange accepting it. She didn’t want to owe him anything, and didn’t want him thinking she wanted him to pay for something for her family. It wasn’t his job.

When he pulled his card out and signed his name on the pad, Nura shifted her weight on her feet and peered up at him. “Thank you, Calum,” she said, her voice holding the genuine appreciation she felt over him fixing her blunder. “I’ll pay you back.”

She saw the frown that drew together his eyebrows as he pocketed his wallet, shooting her a near bewildered look. “The hell you will,” he said with a scoff. Calum shook his head, walking to the back of the cart to grip its handles. With a pointed look at her, he added, “I didn’t mind doing it, Nura, and I didn’t do it for you to owe me anything. I was happy to help.”

The look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t going to budge on his stance, and Nura just kind of fell for him a bit more in that moment. She also felt a wave of guilt for all the teasing she had done regarding him and his money, and wished she could take it back. Coupled with what Luke had told her that night at the club and him paying for her family’s groceries—not to mention the fact that when they’d stopped to get gas on their way to Homestead, he’d paid for it—Nura knew that Calum Hood wasn’t like any of the guests she’d ever encountered, and the money he had, he would use it for others before using it for himself.

That little trait only made him all the more attractive.

As they exited Wal-Mart, Nura tried, “Will you at least let me get you a drink when we get back? On me.” She didn’t know how much that would mean, given what he was paying to stay at the resort, but it was all she could think of doing. It was a small gesture, nothing compared to what he’d done.

And yet, Calum grinned at her, sharp features melting into a giddy softness as he pushed the cart along and nodded. “Absolutely.”

Nura left Homestead with a lighter heart than the one she’d arrived with. Most of it had to do with the fact that her mom, thank God, had started feeling a lot better than when Nura first got home. Her antibiotics seemed to kick in, and they did plenty in helping her mom out with the nausea and pain she had been feeling. With Calum and Nura chipping in to help around the house, even if it was only for three days, her mom was able to get as much rest as she could and it helped her recovery along.

She was no longer pale or running between her bed and the bathroom anymore, the pain had nearly subsided, and Nura knew her mom would be okay. And after telling her brother to be good and take care of their mom, and with Mrs. Ansari and Billy thanking Calum for all of his help, Nura and Calum left her house and were back on the road to the resort. This time, she joined in with him in singing along to the songs playing through the car at a louder volume; lighter hearts made for a happier car ride back, and Nura really fucking appreciated Calum’s help in it all. While she had been caught completely off guard when he had offered to come, she was so relieved he did.

They got back to the resort late in the evening when the sun had set and, ever the gentleman, Calum walked Nura back to her suite. Their footsteps softly thudded on the sleek floor, the hall empty as they reached her door around eight in the evening. Nura unlocked it and stepped inside, dropping her bag on the floor and turning to see Calum watching her, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in the pocket of his leather jacket which she couldn’t understand how he wore in the Florida heat.

Nura wrung her fingers together as she took a step towards him, feeling her skin flush as she began, “Calum—thank you, honestly, for helping out this weekend. You didn’t have to take time out of your vacation to do that and I—I really appreciate it.”

Calum’s eyebrows so briefly pulled together as his face scrunched up in protest, giving a shake of his head. “You don’t have to thank me, Nura.” He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’ve been takin’ care of us and it just felt like the right thing to do.”

She let out a breathy chuckle at that, about a foot or two worth of space between them as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, well, it’s my job to. You did it because you’re a good person.”

She saw the way his eyebrows raised, corner of his lips tugging into a wider smile as he scoffed lightly through his nose. There was a teasing glint in his dark eyes as he said, “Means a lot, coming from someone who once said I was just barely a decent person.”

Nura rolled her lips into her mouth, an embarrassed heat flushing her skin as Calum chuckled quietly at her reaction. Of course she remembered saying that to him, right after he had basically tipped her out of spite. It seemed like so long ago, rather than just a month. “Yeah, well,” Nura mused, not at all minding the way the space between them seemed to be closing. Her gaze lifted so brown eyes could remain locked with his, a teasing flutter in her stomach under Calum’s intent, purposeful stare. “Safe to say you’ve proven me wrong.”

They were so close, her vanilla scent mixing with the woodsy freshness of his cologne, a combination Nura desired more of as she looked up at him. Calum leaned towards her, nose brushing against hers, fueling the fire sparking in Nura’s veins as his voice dropped into a raspy, deliciously teasing murmur, “Enough to break your fraternization rule?”

Nura’s response was tilting her head up to finally give into the heat his body was radiating, to succumb to the way Calum was pulling her and connect her lips with his. She felt herself inhaling sharply as he returned the kiss, his hands finding her face as he kept her close, moving his lips with hers. Nura leaned into him, her own hands gripping his wrist as her lips parted, deepening the kiss earnestly, the softness of his lips curling her toes, pressing herself into him. She couldn’t possibly be close enough to him.

Calum’s hands were warm against her skin, the couple of rings he wore chilling her gloriously, and he tasted like the mint gum he’d been chewing in the car. The subtle flutter in her stomach whenever Calum smiled at her had erupted into a hoard of butterflies, his tongue sliding against hers. God, she knew it was a bad idea, knew she was crossing a professional line she had never ventured near. But the way Calum’s thumbs caressed her cheek, kissed her so softly yet intensely, had Nura throwing caution in the wind. How could she possibly focus on anything else when Calum was kissing her like it was what his lips were made to do?

They pulled apart too soon, a brush of lips and labored breathing, and Nura kept her eyes closed as she reveled in the warmth Calum’s body provided. Her heart was racing, his nose brushing against hers, and Nura found herself wanting to stay close. Bad ideas never seemed so good right now. “Yeah,” she finally breathed out, ragged and overwhelmed, eyes still closed as her lips curled into a dazed smile. “Definitely worth it it.”

*****

It was a long day. Every so often, the long days caught up to Nura and the day couldn’t be over quick enough as she made her around her specific areas. Her sneakers, though they were comfortable, at this point seemed to be too tight on her feet and she couldn’t wait to go back to her room and collapse for the night. Except it was one in the afternoon and her hour lunch break wasn’t for another half hour. A little bit less, she realized as she glanced at her Apple Watch and read the time as 1:06. Not fast enough though. And it didn’t help that she was waiting to hear back from some publishing firms she had applied to work for, itching to check her e-mail every few minutes. The day was already taking a toll on her.

God, she wanted to nap.

The Florida sun was something she was used to, but today it only seemed to slow her down. She kept walking from the restaurant to the pool, providing guests with drinks and snacks whenever they demanded them. Mundane, repetitive, but she got paid for it, so Nura walked around and did her job with a pleasant smile on her face despite it feeling so strained on her cheeks.

It wasn’t too bad, though, because at least while she was around the pool, she got to see Calum. He, Luke, Sierra, Michael and Crystal were all by the pool, and it was taking all of Nura’s willpower and every ounce of her professionalism not to openly admire the glow of Calum’s skin under the beaming sun, or trace the ink decorating his skin with her gaze. Their eyes would meet every now and again, and though Nura focused on doing her work, she could still feel the weight of his stare on her. It was nerve wracking and thrilling in the best ways.

Ever since their kiss last week, there had been so many more snuck in. While she worked, Calum spent time with his friends in various activities the resort offered, but as soon as she clocked out, he was joining her in her room for dinner and a TV show to binge—even if, by the end, the show was long forgotten and they were too busy with dizzying kisses and wandering hands. It was a dangerous game they were playing, Nura knew, but all of her worries seem to melt away when she was with Calum. And it felt good, for once, to not constantly think of life’s problems that had taken residence on her shoulders. It felt so good to get lost in Calum’s kisses, his touch, to melt under his warm gaze and be the reason for that stunning smile. 

“Nura, you can take your break after dropping off that order,” Mr. Gonzalez said as she picked up a small tray with a single mango smoothie on it to be delivered poolside.

She nodded, stifling the yawn threatening to escape as she made her way back to the pool to give the drink to the middle aged woman who had ordered it. Nura balanced the circular trap on the palm of her right hand, left hand gripping the rim of the tray for extra security as she made her way over. The woman was sitting just a few feet away, and Nura couldn’t wait to give her the drink and go for her break.

And maybe she’d gotten lost in her thoughts, let herself get too distracted, but Nura hadn’t registered the two kids that were running past her, hadn’t heard their excited shoulders behind her over the busy poolside hum. But just as she reached the woman, the kids, probably about nine or ten years old, roughly bumped into Nura as they went, and the startled gasp ripped past her throat faster than she could grab the glass as it toppled over, sending the yellow colored smoothie splattering right onto the woman who’d been waiting for it.

Nura heard the few gasps around her, but they sounded distant over the sound of her rapid heartbeat and the woman’s startled shriek of, “Oh, my God!”

Face flushing in an embarrassed heat, Nura covered her mouth briefly, eyes wide in mortification as she stammered out, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, ma’am. I—Let me grab you a towel.”

“Don’t!” the woman snapped, ripping her sunglasses off her face to fix Nura with a fierce glare with icy blue eyes. Nura stopped, blood frozen and eyes apologetically wide. She was all too aware of the stares she and the now soaked woman were receiving, and she couldn’t be more horrified over the whole encounter. Especially as the pissed off woman sat up and continued, “You’ll manage to fuck that up, too. What, do you not know how to walk?”

They had been trained for moments such as this, where the customers create a scene just like what the woman was doing. But in the six summers Nura worked at the resort, nothing like this had ever happened to her, and in this moment, she forgot all about what she was told as she remained frozen in her spot, humiliated by the way she was being spoken to and angry that she couldn’t say anything back without the risk of being fired.

“Ma’am,” Nura began, hating that her voice was a bit unsteady, holding the tray to her chest and picking up the now empty glass. Throat working, she continued, “Let me get you a towel and—and another drink—”

“Don’t bother,” the woman scoffed, pulling out the towel she was laying on to wipe at her skin. The scowl was a permanent fixture on her face as she looked up at Nura. “You’re lucky you didn’t break the glass, or else I would’ve sued your ass faster than you can—”

“Hey—it was an accident and she already apologized. Move the fuck on.” Nura’s eyes widened, heart stopping in her chest as she whipped her head to the right to see Calum next to her. She gaped at him, breath still in her lungs as she wondered what the fuck he was doing as his own scowl was directed towards the seated woman.

Who, in turn, stared up at him with incredulity and irritation. Though many people were watching the scene, Nura was absently relieved that all action around the pool hadn’t ceased, because if there had been complete silence, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle any more humiliation than this. “Who the hell are you?” the woman demanded with a frown. “She spilled the damn drink on me—can’t even fucking do her job right.”

Nura’s face was on fire, that much she was certain of. And it certainly didn’t help when Calum took a step forward, figure looming and intimidating, as he snapped, “Accidents happen. If you’re so bothered, get off your ass and get your drink yours—”

The woman’s eyebrows had show up and jaw had dropped in astonishment, and Nura quickly cut in with a hasty, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll send someone else for your drink,” and, without thinking, grabbed Calum’s arm and roughly pulled him away.

Nura was too aware of the eyes on her, hearing Calum’s flip flops drag on the floor and his indignant protests as she told Lorraine to help out the pissed off lady by the pool, and it wasn’t until they were away from the pool and restaurant and headed towards her room where she finally let out a sharp breath.

“What the hell was that?” Nura demanded harshly, not even bothering to look at Calum as she made her way towards her room. She didn’t even want to eat anymore. She just needed to be in her room where she could have a proper fucking meltdown. Thank God her suite wasn’t far. They were already entering the hall with the brisk steps Nura had been taking.

Calum easily kept up with her pace, and she could hear his own anger as he returned, “She was treatin’ you like shit. I couldn’t just let her do that.”

Her vexation getting the best of her, Nura let out a humorless laugh, jamming her key into the door before shoving it open. “That’s fucking hilarious coming from you.”

Calum shut the door, the slam sounding distant as Nura’s heart pounded in her ear as she turned to face him. She didn’t even pause to admire him standing there in just a pair of black swimming trunks, the scowl on his face matching the one she wore. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, scoffing as he took a few steps towards her. Nura stood her ground, jaw tight. “Are you seriously bringing that up again? I thought we were fucking passed that, Nura.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant as her skin remained hot to the touch. “I thought so to, until you decided to say fuck my job and tried to play the hero when I didn’t ask for one.”

He genuinely looked bewildered at her statement and Nura knew it was because he didn’t think what he did was wrong. And while if she was more level headed, she would understand why he thought that, but right now it only fueled the fire burning her blood. There was a good chance he just made things worse. Gesturing towards the door behind him, Calum exclaimed, “That woman was being a bitch to you!”

Nura clicked her tongue loudly, looking away with an irritated shake of her head before returning, “It’s just part of the job. You’d know if you ever had one!”

Calum scoffed, incredulous and angry all at the same time as he raised his eyebrows at her. “Excuse me?”

“It’s all a part of working in customer service.” Nura let out a breath, lips curling in a near condescending smirk as she eyed him. “But I wouldn’t expect a trust fund brat like you to know that.”

His eyes narrowed, darkening as he took the few steps towards her, tall body towering over hers and Nura hated the excited twist in her stomach, and the thrill that shot down her spine, when Calum’s voice dropped and he returned darkly, “Only one being a brat here is you.”

Electricity shot through Nura’s core at Calum’s words, only being able to release a small breath until his lips captured hers in a rough, dizzying kiss that had her instantly wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It was a frenzied kiss, desperate and heated as Calum’s fingers instinctively worked on the button of Nura’s black uniform shorts, and thank fucking God he was only in swimming trunks as he pushed her shorts down her legs and she kicked them off.

They were a mess of heavy breaths, needy kisses, and working hands as the kiss briefly broke when Calum lifted Nura’s shirt off, a fire brimming in her chest as he pushed her onto the bed before climbing over her body to connect their lips once more. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, and Nura didn’t at all mind the combination as the scruff on his chin scratched at her skin, his warm body pressing into hers as Calum broke their kiss and Nura let out a dazed, breathy gasp when his plush lips teased her neck with kisses.

Her anger and humiliation from before melted away under Calum’s body, eyes fluttering shut as one hand went to the back of his head, fingers threading through his growing dark hair and head tilting back as she reveled in the way his lips and tongue and teeth worked at her neck. She was overwhelmed by him; by his taste, touch, scent as Calum moved lower, lower, lower, his lips leaving a trail of electricity in his wake as he kept going down her body, brown eyes absent of his own previous aggravation and flashing with wicked mischief as she watched him reach her underwear.

When he pulled it down, Nura bit down on her grinning lower lip, head tilting back into the pillows as his lips teased the inside of her thighs with kisses. 

Fuck a nap; this was exactly how she wanted to spend her break.

“I’m sorry ’bout what happened at the pool.” Nura felt Calum’s chest lightly vibrate under her ear as he spoke in a rasp, her gaze fixed on he way her fingers played with his. The room had fallen into a tranquil silence, the steady beat of Calum’s heart calming Nura more than a nap would have. “I just hated seein’ the way that woman spoke to you. Reminded me of how I spoke to you and I’m sorry for it.”

Nura’s eyebrows furrowed at that, lifting her head to look at Calum. He was resting against her headboard, the sheets doing well to cover her bare chest as she laid next to him. Calum’s brown eyes met hers and Nura’s features softened as the little bit of guilt she could still see in them. “You don’t have to apologize. I forgave you for that a long time ago.” The corner of his lips quirked up but Calum still didn’t let himself smile, and Nura rested her hand on his chest as she sighed. “Thank you for defending me. And I’m sorry, too, for being such a bitch about it.”

“No, don’t,” Calum said with a shake of his head, his left hand coming up to cover her right one on his chest. Nura glanced down, feeling a smile tug on her lips at his warm touch, at the way his tattooed hand seemed to perfectly hold hers. Her brown eyes met his soft ones, feeling herself melt under his gaze all over again. “It wasn’t my place to jump in like that, no matter how much it pissed me off. I put you in a tough spot and that wasn’t fair of me.”

Nura felt her smile grow, heart fluttering in her chest at the sincerity in Calum’s voice. She then let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she responded to Calum’s curious expression with, “Either we suck at apologizing to each other, or we’re really good at it.”

Calum scoffed, his grin finally appearing, bright and beautiful. “I think it’s the latter,” he said with a quick wink, leaning forward to connect their lips in a toe curling, breathtaking kiss.

She would’ve continued it, except her phone let out a notification ding, and Calum groaned in protest when Nura pulled away with a light giggle. She reached over Calum, ended up laying with her stomach on his as she grabbed her phone from the bedside and read the new e-mail she’d received. And as her eyes took in the words on the screen, Nura’s heart dropped and a gasp escaped her throat. “Oh, shit!”

“What?” Calum asked, worry creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my God,” Nura laughed, the excitement widening the grin on her face, reading the e-mail one last time before letting out a thrilled squeal. She kicked her legs excitedly, earning a bewildered laugh from Calum until she finally announced, voice high with enthusiasm, “Penguin Random House is offering me a job in their editorial department! Oh, my God—I got the job!”

She looked back at Calum as the words fell past her lips, catching the way his eyebrows shot up and something flashed across his eyes, akin to happiness and pride, before a grin split across his face. Those crinkles she adored so much appeared, just for her, as Calum laughed, “That’s incredible, doll—congratulations!”

Her stomach was wild with butterflies, cheeks aching from the grin she wore as she let out a squeal and pushed herself up to hug Calum. She laughed against him, feeling his arms wrap around her as he squeezed her tightly, bodies flushed as she felt his nose nudge at her neck. “Oh, my God—I’m moving to New York.” That had been the dream; to land a job at a publishing firm, preferably in New York City, and move there to start her life as proper adult. The thought was fucking terrifying, but one that brought Nura a kind of happiness she couldn’t comprehend.

Fuck, if only she didn’t have to go back to work in ten minutes. She’d properly be able to celebrate—especially since Calum was already in her bed.

*****

“Nura? Mr. McNulty would like to see you in his office.”

She looked up from where she was leaning against the bar, checking her e-mail to see another offer had come in. Over the past few days, ever since that first e-mail from Penguin Random House, the other firms Nura had applied to had finally reached back after the many video interviews she had done. She’d gotten job offers to most of them, including Simon & Schuster, which was her top choice, with Penguin being her second. Her days, despite dealing with the same kind of people all of the time, carried on with a happier note with each acceptance.

“Okay,” Nura nodded, pocketing her phone and taking off her apron. Riley took it from her, storing it under the bar as Nura walked out of the restaurant and in the direction of the main lobby of the resort. She couldn’t be sure why Mr. McNulty was calling her, but it was opportune; Nura could take that moment to tell him she wouldn’t be coming back next summer. Or ever again.

She reached his office door, knocking until she heard him answer with a “Come in.” Mr. McNulty glanced up from his computer, leaning back as he said, “Oh, Ms. Ansari, good. Please, have a seat.”

Nura was good at reading people, and right now, she got an uneasy vibe off of Mr. McNulty. He didn’t look entirely happy, elbows resting on the arm rests of his chair and hands linked together as Nura slowly sat down on the chair in front of his desk. “Is everything alright, sir?”

“I’m afraid not, Nura,” he said with a sigh, leaning forward as he clicked something on the laptop in front of him. Her eyebrows drew together as he turned the laptop to show her the screen as he said, “This is you with one of our resort guests, correct?”

Nura’s gaze went to the screen, heart in her throat as she watched a video of her exiting Calum’s bungalow from a few days ago, pausing on the steps as Calum leaned in to kiss her. The video ended with Nura turning around, giving the camera a clear shot of her face before it automatically stopped—along with Nura’s heart.

Shit. Oh, fucking shit.

Her lips parted, blood rushing in her ears as she tried to find the right words. “Sir, I-I can explain—”

“You know our policy, Ms. Ansari,” Mr. McNulty cut in with a shake of his head. He didn’t look angry, per se. Just disappointed, which Nura knew was worse. Especially since she knew the man, they got along well. She had never had such a transgression, and she was absolutely mortified. Fuck. She knew this would happen, knew they hadn’t been careful. “Engaging in relationships with our guests is against company regulations, and is grounds for immediate firing.”

Which would go on her record, and although she was going to quit anyway and already got offered jobs at all those firms, there was still the risk of them finding out about her getting fired from the resort. And she knew the reason for it wouldn’t be taken lightly, either. Shit. She was screwed.

She couldn’t even look Mr. McNulty in the eye, gaze dropped to her lap where she picked at her nails, face flushed in an embarrassed, saddened heat. How could she have been so dumb? So careless? Fuck.

“However—” Nura looked up when Mr. McNulty began speaking again, taking in the resigned expression he wore. “You have been with us for over five years, and despite your mistake, you’ve been an essential employee at Little Palms. Which is why I’m willing to offer you a deal.” She sat up, breath stilling in her lungs, eagerly and carefully listening. “I’m going to give you the chance of voluntarily submitting your resignation, effective immediately. You will get paid for the hours you have worked, but you will need to leave by the end of the day. This way, it doesn’t go on your record. Does that sound fair to you?”

Nura let out a heavy breath, disbelief crossing her features. She had already been planning to quit, and although that wouldn’t have been effective until the end of summer, doing so now was better than being fired. It would suck, Nura knew, having to leave the friends she made here quicker than she had anticipated, but Mr. McNulty’s offer was the lesser of two evils. At this point, she didn’t care what was fair or what wasn’t. It was her fault for being careless despite knowing the rules of the resort, and Mr. McNulty’s generosity wasn’t something she was going to take with a grain of salt.

“I—Yes. Yes, sir. That’s fair,” Nura nodded quickly, throat tight. None of it was fair, but it wasn’t like she was going to be unemployed. She had jobs lined up. It would be okay. She would be fine. “Thank you, Mr. McNulty.”

He nodded as the two of them stood up, and he reached his hand out and said, “It was wonderful having you with us, Ms. Ansari. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

She offered a small smile, shaking his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir.”

It wasn’t until she walked out of his office did Nura let out a breath, eyes closing briefly before opening as she leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t going to lie—that was kind of shitty. And although she knew she could use the extra time to pack up her life and get ready for her move to New York, it still left a small hole in her heart. Mr. McNulty only allowed her to resign out of her loyalty to the resort; so easily could she have just been fired, and Nura knew that would’ve sucked more. Still, it wasn’t wrong—or at least, she didn’t think it was—that the situation left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Nura sighed once more, giving a shake of her head as she began walking, figuring she might as well head to her suite to start packing. Her phone let out a ding and she pulled it out, eyebrows raising when she saw an e-mail from a Penguin Random House address. Nura hummed in acknowledgment, walking as she read the message from the woman who was the head of the editorial department, feeling a small smile tug at her lips as she read that the woman was excited to hear more from her, and that she hoped Nura accepted their offer.

And the e-mail had made her smile, reminding her of the hope she still had and how today wasn’t so shitty, until she got to the last line of the e-mail.

I’m so glad Mr. Hood—or Calum, as you may know him—recommended you to our firm. His e-mail only reaffirmed our decision in moving forward with your application.

Nura stopped, eyebrows slowly knitting together as she read those two sentences over and over again, hoping that she was only imagining them. But the more she read them, the clearer they got, and the heat that simmered in her veins only seemed to intensify with each second that passed by.

What the fuck.

He had reached out to them on her behalf? What the hell had he been thinking? Nura ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a sharp breath as she remembered the day she’d gotten the e-mail from them. He had been with her and he kept his damn mouth, didn’t even think to mention that he’d talked to them. 

Good thing he hadn’t, or else she would’ve probably ripped his head off while he was naked in her bed.

Heart drumming wildly in her chest, Nura texted him with trembling thumbs, casually asking him where he was. When he responded almost instantly, telling her he was at the beach, Nura didn’t think twice. She didn’t care she had to get her things ready—she needed to have a conversation with him first.

She arrived to the beach quickly, deaf to the sounds of people enjoying themselves and music playing and waves crashing. The sand was soft under her sneakers, eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as she searched for Calum, or maybe even his friends, knowing he was with them. She walked in the direction of the shore, looking right and then left, jaw clenching when she caught sight of him resting on a towel under an umbrella. 

Nura stormed over, her anger and indignation overwhelming her, ignoring the greetings his friends offered her as she stood in front of his now sitting body when he heard her name being uttered by everyone else. “I need to talk to you,” Nura stated through gritted teeth. God, she was so angry, so outraged that he would meddle in her business the way he had, no matter his intentions. 

Calum frowned from behind his sunglasses, taking them off before he slowly stood up. Not even his stupid tattooed body could distract Nura from the glare she wore. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Nope. No endearing nickname would distract her either. Nails digging into her palms, Nura demanded, “Did you reach out to Penguin Random House on my behalf so they would give me the job?”

She saw the realization flash across Calum’s face, lips parting as guilt tugged at his features and the knot in Nura’s stomach tightened. All of Calum’s friends had fallen silent as he started, “I—yeah, I did, but Nura—they were goin’ to give you the job anyway.”

“Maybe!” she exclaimed defiantly, eyebrows shooting up. “But it was what you did that made them go through with it, and I didn’t fucking ask you to do that.”

“Nura—” Calum let out a breath, frowning down at her as he gave a shake of his head. “I was just tryin’ to help.”

The sun was burning down her back, and it only drove Nura’s irritation further. Her chest felt tight, hating every minute of this. “I didn’t ask you to,” she repeated through gritted teeth, expression as hard as her eyes, and she knew Calum could see that. “I want to have a job because of my own hard work, not because of anything else.” She crossed her arms over her chest, voice lacing with a bitter venom as she added, “But I guess that’s too hard for someone who hasn’t worked a damn day in their life to understand.”

The hurt flashed across Calum’s face and for a moment, Nura regretted the words she’d uttered. God, they had been past that. She had stopped throwing his access to money in his face, had realized he was so much more than his bank account. But she was so angry in his act of meddling, and she lashed out when she was hurt, uncaring of who got caught in the damage. And it didn’t matter how much she liked Calum, how much he made her smile or laugh or feel good. He hadn’t respected her work ethic, had interfered when he wasn’t needed, and it only ended up hurting her. So she hurt him.

Nura took a step back, thinning her lips at him, uncaring of his friends’ stares as her brown eyes remained locked with Calum’s. His eyebrows were drawn together, the hurt more prominent on his face than anything else, and although the sight of him looking at her light that tightened Nura’s throat, it didn’t stop her from saying, “You cost me two jobs today, Calum. Do me a favor and stay the hell away.”

He saw the alarmed confusion in his eyes at her words, but Nura didn’t give him a chance to say anything as she turned and walked away, arms crossed tightly as she made her way off the beach. She knew he tried to go after her, was stopped when Ashton said, “Let her go, man,” and a dry sob escaped Nura as soon as she was far enough away from them. She felt her face scrunch up as she fought to keep the tears away; tears of anger, of sadness, of hurt—whatever the fuck they may be. It all came crashing into her after disappearing from Calum’s intense, pleading gaze, and Nura only let the tears fall when she was in the privacy of her bedroom.

She had expected to say goodbye to the resort soon enough. Saying goodbye to Calum, though, had never crossed her mind. 

*****

“She’s settled well in New York,” Mrs. Ansari told him with a smile, a happiness in her eyes as she spoke about her daughter. “She always wanted to get out of Florida, and even though I don’t like her being so far, I know she’s happy. That’s all I can ask for.”

Calum smiled, looking down at his hands as he twirled one of his rings. “She’s definitely a city girl—I’m not surprised she fits right in,” he said, unable to keep the fondness from slipping into his tone. Her face flashed across his mind; glimmering brown eyes and a smile that rendered him breathless every time. “They’re lucky to have her there.”

There was a silence that settled upon them briefly, and Calum heard the sound of porcelain clicking against glass as Mrs. Ansari put her mug of tea on the coffee table. “She told me what you did.” Calum’s throat worked as he looked up to meet the older woman’s gaze, surprised when she smiled at him gently. “Your heart was in the right place, Calum, and I know Nura knows that. She’s just. . .” She trailed off with a soft chuckle. “She’s independent, always has been. Her father and I raised her to work hard for what she wants and what you did, although it was only out of good intentions, made her feel as though you didn’t value who she was.”

Calum sat up, hating that that was ever a thought in Nura’s head. He admired her, so fucking much. And helping her had been such a natural instinct that Calum hadn’t stopped to think how it could be interpretated. Fuck, he should’ve known that the only way to help Nura was to support her in how she chose to run her life, not pave a pathway for her. Calum shook his head with a sigh, gaze dropping once more as he stared at his half drank cup of tea. Without even thinking, he murmured, “I value her more than anything.”

And he did. Of course he did. She’d come into his life like a whirlwind when he least expected it, when he was too busy being bitter over the way Dawn’s life had been moving forward despite her taking advantage of him. Nura was better than anyone Calum had ever met. She never took advantage of him, was quick to knock him down a peg or two when he needed to be, and, fuck, he loved her for it. Of all the things in the resort, Nura was the one who gave him a peace of mind, who pulled him out of the vat of bitterness that Dawn had thrown him in. He’d gone to Little Palm to so the beach and ocean and everything else in between could distract him. But it was Nura who did so by keeping him on his toes in the best way possible. 

He heard the smile in Mrs. Ansari’s voice. “Give her some time, beta. If you truly care about her, and I can tell that you do, you’ll try one more time.”

The late October chill of New York was something Calum was familiar with. He enjoyed it, a nice change from the warmth of Los Angeles, and he didn’t mind standing out on the sidewalk, back leaning against his car as he kept his gaze fixated on the front door of the building in front of him. His hands were kept warm in the pocket of his long dark grey coat, watching each person that walked out of the door, hoping it was the one familiar face he had been in search for.

He had half a mind to pull out a cigarette to warm him up, but he didn’t want the first time she saw him in months to be when he smelled of tobacco. Fuck, he didn’t even know if she wanted to see him. For all he knew, she would see him waiting outside and turn right back into the building. His heart drummed in his chest, and no words of reassurances from his friends or Mrs. Ansari echoing in his brain could ever prepare him for the moment that Nura emerged from the revolving door of Simon & Schuster, dark hair dancing in the breeze as she took in a breath of the late afternoon New York air.

Calum’s heart leaped in his throat the second he saw her, pushing himself off the car and standing straight, feeling every drop of blood racing in his veins as Nura started descending the concrete steps and looked up, only for her dark eyes to lock onto Calum’s.

Nura stopped where she stood, hands buried in the pocket of her own peacoat and he wondered if she was trying to determine whether she was imagining him or not. He saw the shock on her face, lips parted as Calum took a tentative step forward. There was still about fifteen feet worth of space between them, filled with people passing by, and he was desperate to close it.

“What—” Nura let out a breath, and Calum swore he didn’t think he had missed her voice so much. She finally descended the stairs, making her way towards him, eyebrows drawing together as she asked, “What’re you doing here?”

For a moment, all Calum could do was stare at her. Standing in front of him after months of just being a memory in his head, Calum was desperate to drink in the sight of her for as long as he could. She looked beautiful, unsurprisingly, having replaced her resort uniform with jeans, heeled boots and a turtleneck under her coat. Absolutely stunning.

“I—” Calum paused, clearing his throat before he reached into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out the item that had been weighing it down. Nura watched, her eyebrows rising at the item in his hands. “I thought you’d want your book back.”

A scoff escaped Nura’s upturning lips, taking her copy of Aristotle and Dante from his hands. She had never asked for it back when she left the resort, and it had been the only thing Calum had of Nura’s once she left. He’d read the book once and then twice over, soaking in the words that had become her favorite to read. He felt closer to her every time he read it, momentarily allowing himself to forget how he had fucked things up between them.

Nura rolled her lips into her mouth before lifting her gaze to meet his eyes, gently asking, “Did you like it?”

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, hands returning to the pockets of his coat. “It was beautiful,” he nodded, voice softer than he intended. He looked down at his shoes then, black Docs stark against the pavement. “Ari kind of frustrated me, though.”

“How come?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, considering his next words carefully before he told himself to just stop thinking. He’d been thinking of saying them for so long. Now, he finally would. “It took him so long to figure out he loved Dante.” Calum’s gaze met Nura’s, offering her a small, close mouthed smile, a bit sad, but truthful. “But for me, figuring out I loved you was the easiest thing.”

Calum heard the sharp inhale Nura took at his words, brown eyes framed by long lashes widening as she gaped at him, and Calum didn’t regret it. He’d been holding those words in for so long, had kept them in his chest to the point where it had become almost painful. Now they were out there, spoken to the person they were meant to, and now Nura had the power. So he stood there, watching her, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

He saw the subtle way her eyebrows drew together, grip on her book tightening as her throat worked. “I—” Nura took an unsteady breath and Calum wondered if she could hear his pounding heart. Nura dropped her gaze, looking down at the book, letting out a nervous chuckle as she said, “Well, Ari’s a gay kid in 1987, so things weren’t so easy for him figure out—”

God, if she was anyone else, Calum would’ve hurt his eyes by how hard he would’ve rolled him. Instead, he felt himself letting out a breathless chuckle, some of the nervous tension easing in his muscles as he took a step towards her and cut in, “But I also admire him.” Nura pressed her lips together, watching him as Calum offered a small smile. “Because he gave me the push to come out here, to tell you how I feel, to apologize for the way I fucked things up.”

She was listening to him intently, eyes wide and earnest, and Calum pulled his hands out of his pockets and cupped her cheeks. Her skin was as soft as he remembered it, felt a ghost of a smile curl his lips when her eyes fluttered as soon as he touched her. Even in the heart of New York, he could smell her delicious vanilla scent.

“You make me better, Nura. With your jokes and your ethics and all of the things that make you, you. Watching you push yourself pushes me, and that makes you the best person I know.” 

“Oh, shit.” Calum let out a short laugh at the whisper she let out, looking up at him in awe and incredulity. He hadn’t meant to make her speechless, but he needed her to hear the truth, every ounce of it. She licked her lips, the corners tugging up. “That’s, uh, a lot of credit you’re giving me.”

Calum’s own lips formed a smirk, still feeling his nerves buzz in his veins. “You deserve it,” he told her before tilting his chin and widening his smirk. “You pushed me to open up my own record shop, after all.”

Nura’s eyebrows shot up, surprise crossing her features. “What? Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Calum confirmed, thumb stroking her cheek. “Over in Brooklyn. Complete with records, instruments, and even lessons by yours truly.” Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “Gonna check out that hard work thing you’re always talking about.”

Nura laughed at that, using the book to lightly smack his arm as Calum laughed, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen almost completely. When her laughter quieted, brown eyes lifting to meet his, she softly asked, “Did you mean it, what you said? That you. . . You love me?”

Calum’s smile softened, throat working as her eyes provided him with a warmth against the New York chill. He lowered his chin, eyes on hers as he confirmed, “I love you.”

Nura’s chest fell with a sharp exhale, and Calum briefly caught sight of her wide grin before she closed the gap between them with a press of her lips to his. Heat warmed Calum throughout his body as he kissed her back, leaning into her the way he had been desperate to do so for months, feeling her arms wind around his waist as she held him close. It felt so good, so fucking right to kiss her, to feel her so closely, to love her like he wanted to.

“I love you, too,” she murmured against his lips, a giggle escaping her as she uttered those words so happily. 

They pulled away with thundering hearts and giddy grins, and the flush in her cheeks told Calum that they would be okay. It was all the reassurance he needed. Calum grinned, snickering lightly as he hooked an arm around Nura’s neck and mused, “Money can’t buy me that.”

Nura’s expression fell flat, bemused despite Calum’s teasing grin, and she smacked her lips together with a roll of her eyes before saying, “Shut up and kiss me again.”

His face hurt from how widely he was grinning, ready and willing to comply. “Yes, ma’am.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @loveroflrh​ @softforcal​ @sweetcherrymike​ @astroashtonio​ @meetashthere​ @novacanecalum​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @highfivecalum​ @calumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @imfuckin10plybud​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @old-zeppelin-shirt​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​  

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Love me, love me not ~ pt.1

01: When Grayson meets Y/N

Summary: Y/N meets the twins, leaving a lasting impression on both of them.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst

Word count: ~ 2k

Love me, love me not ~ Series Masterlist

Grayson looked himself up and down, one last check up to make sure he was perfect.. as perfect as he could be. After all, he was about to meet a girl, someone who had the power to both make his career and destroy him entirely. To make the matters worse, she looked like an angel who had her wings clipped by the world and she was to be his companion for the next few months, at least.

He couldn't leave a bad impression.

"Ready, bro?" Ethan leaned on the door-frame, pressing his lips together as he gave his brother a pointed look.

"Just opened the gate for her." Ethan added, sighing as his brother kept up the silent treatment. While Ethan understood his brother's predicament and that this situation is far from perfect, especially to a romantic sap like Grayson, he lacked the feeling of guilt for giving him this opportunity. He had opened a door for him, the door he clawed at for a year now and hadn't made a dent, so yes, Ethan didn't feel even the slightest bit of guilt for getting his brother what he wanted, despite it being a less than perfect way. And yes, in this moment, Ethan felt grateful he chose college before acting, unlike Grayson who wouldn't even consider trying the academic way to his dreams.

"And you better get a smile going because she's doing us a bigger favor than we could ever do for her. You're the one benefiting here." Ethan glued himself from his position, walking over to the door he knew would be knocked on any second now, leaving Grayson to deal with his feelings a moment longer.

Ethan wouldn't let him fuck up.

And right on cue, Ethan was there just in time to open the door for her, moments before her fist connected with the wooden door.

"Oh, wow. Hi!" Ethan had seen her photos, many interviews and her previous work, but she never looked as beautiful on the screen as she did right before him. He stumbled over his words, secretly wishing he had gotten himself a sweet PR deal with her instead because he would love nothing more than a taste of her dark, pink lips - her signature lipstick.

"Sorry, I'm excited!" He offered a hand to shake, noticing her cold smile finally reach her eyes as if he had managed to melt a few inches of the iceberg inside her soul, even for a moment.

She gladly accepted his hand, her smile widening as he shook it vigorously.

"It's no problem really. I'm Mercy." She felt herself cringe with the use of the nickname they've pushed on her, trying to claim her as theirs - the public's doll for entertainment. But she figured it would be best if she kept her distance, after all, this was just a business arrangement...nothing more.

"Oh, Gosh, you're so nice." Ethan giggled to himself, certain he's completely red in the face and too eager looking. He had to reel his inner fanboy in and stop overwhelming his guest.

Y/N cocked her head to the left, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she still held onto his hand, not minding the contact because the one thing you have to get used to in Hollywood is touching strangers, way too long and way past your preferred place. So, with that in mind, a hand-hold lasting a bit long because someone got a little excited didn't seem as bad. She's had worse.

"You're not Grayson." She stated plainly as if it's so obvious and unimaginably unmistakable to her.

It was Ethan's turn to realize he's still holding onto her slightly smaller, much colder hand in his for too long, but also to admire her observation skills. Not many people could tell them apart, much less when they've never met before.

"And you're right. And I'm holding your hand for too long, so I'm just gonna let go and go get my brother." Ethan smiles awkwardly, getting a nod on her behalf before letting her hand go - hers a little warmer than before and his a little colder. He walked backwards, sending her a weird wave, adding:

"Make yourself at home."

So, as Ethan left, nearly hitting a wall, Y/N looked around. First thing she noticed was the large wall painting right across from the door front, finding the blend of a cityscape and colors modern and appealing. That's until she gasped once her eyes found the expensive looking panther in the corner, scaring the life out of her.

In the meantime, Ethan had rushed into Grayson's room, finding him buttoning up a different shirt, a little sweatier than before and quite jittery.

"Bro, she's here! She's pretty and she's nice and her hands are cold!" Ethan listed, making Grayson stop, frowning deeply as he turned to look at his brother and the starstruck look in his eyes.

"Her hands are cold?" Grayson deadpanned, wondering what the hell is he talking about, and if his brother needed a good slap back to reality.

"Yes, Grayson, her hands are cold and you are always running warm, so go and charm her and hold her hands until they're warm." Grayson shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh as he nodded, refusing to keep questioning Ethan's sanity right now when his ticket to success was all alone in their living room. And apparently, her hands are cold.

"Take a chill pill, bro." Grayson whispered as he passed a crazed Ethan, feeling his legs turn to lead closer he got to where Y/N waited for him.

He tiptoed, stopping at the wooden barrier, silently watching her through the cracks. Never before had he seen the use in those wooden stacks between the hall and the living room, other than decorative, that is, but now he understood as it allowed him to take a quick peak and assess the situation without making himself too obvious and her too uncomfortable.

She stood with her back turned to him, her hand running along the shelves he built and always boasted about being earthquake proof. She wasn't overly dressed, not like most celebrities he had met. She looked almost...normal? Human? Something other than a pretty doll or a wicked witch the media painted her as.

"You know, I can tell you're there, right?" Her voice caused his heart to start an unhealthy pace, feeling it skip every few beats as if it's stumbling over itself.

"How did you know?" Grayson breathes out, stepping out and around the wooden mock wall, rubbing the back of his neck, hence showcasing his sweaty pits. She frowned slightly at the boy before her, taking in account that he not only scratched his neck and sweats like crazy, but avoids eye contact and talks like a frail old lady as well. He's nervous and jumpy and that's not what she needs right now. And while most people would tiptoe around the subject or ignore it entirely, Y/N wasn't the type.

"You're a mess and what I need right now is a man who can put on a convincing show and use his acting skills to make the public believe I'm an angel sent from above and that he's madly in love." She stated, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes unblinking as she waited for Grayson to look at her.

Which he did, right after he tensed up as if she was a cold shower he desperately needed - blunt and unforgiving as the cold.

"Can you be that man or do I need to go somewhere else?" She asked, not blind to the way he had swallowed thickly nor how he gave her an awkward nod.

"Words, Grayson. I need you to say it and I need you to mean it." She insisted, placing her right foot a few inches forward, finding a balance to give him the proper scrutinizing look.

Grayson cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep eye contact with this girl who had an incredible presence, an undeniable charm and very sharp claws. Some women talk a lot and still don't say enough, but Y/N needs only to look you in the eye and you know exactly what's on her mind.

"I can do that. I will do that." He emphasized, making sure there's no mistaking his intent. He isn't the type to back down from a challenge and most certainly not one that would benefit him so greatly. His father always taught him to keep his word and never give empty promises. And he gave her his word already.

She smiled with his underlying promise, clapping her hands together only to clasp them and bring them under her chin as if to support the smile on her lips, as if she's not used to a simple, lighthearted kind - only the heavy, ice dripping smiles that had a particular effect on people. Some were chilled by it, others mesmerized, but Grayson? He saw through it, through her. That wasn't a smile from the heart, but one from her head and people who are ruled by their mind were always much more dangerous and calculating that people like him - people who trusted their heart.

"Great! So, I suppose you're familiar with the terms of our agreement?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, stepping closer to him with a raised eyebrow, but Grayson seemed oblivious for that step closer had lead her right into the one spot in the entire room the sun reached, giving her an ethereal glow and he finally understood his brother's erratic behavior - she looked like magic, like art - a true beauty, despite the lack of her usual glam she had in all her photos. She wasn't what he expected - a little colder, brittle like glass and perfection incorporated, just like one of those artifacts with 'Do Not Touch' signs placed in front of them. But glass is only brittle until it breaks, changing itself into something much more dangerous - something sharp and ready to draw blood.

"I'm fucked." Grayson mumbled under his breath, incoherent for her to understand, but clear enough for his heart to feel the pain breaking through time and space - all the way from the future. He knew he'd have a hard time saying goodbye when the contract was up, certain it would be as easy as breathing for her.

"Excuse me?" She interrupted his inner turmoil, stepping out of the sunlight and taking his warm hand into hers.

"Your hands are cold." Grayson stared at their hands, clasped together as if it's the only way it should be. He stared at the way her lips parted with that notion next, only to allow himself the gift of looking into her pretty eyes.

"They always are." She shrugged, trying to pull her hands out of his, awkwardly looking away only to look back with a sharp intake of breath once she found resistance to her attempt to create some distance.

"Think we should practice." Grayson mussed, smirking as her cheeks turned a shade darker, knowing he had made this doll blush.

"For the public? Plus, I promise to keep your hands warm." Grayson winked, carefully studying her face for any signs of discomfort, finding none but a blank canvas with dark pink cheeks matching her lips.

"Sure. I suppose it will do us good considering we need to go on our first date now." She offered him a shy smile, one so out of character in comparison to the woman-in-charge facade she put up at first and Grayson just knew...if he could only melt her heart, nothing - not heaven, nor hell Hollywood is comprised of, would keep them apart.

Tags: @xalayx @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @peacedolantwins @maybgrayson @nowheredolan @graydolan12 @beautorigin @justordinaryjen @starrydolan @pitreshawn

[fmdsamsooarchived]

date: July 12th, 2020 time: 8:37am location: dimensions practice room words: 1,059 words summary: samsoo's audition for our songs || mentions of @fmdtaeyong, @fmdjoosung, @durifmd & (passing géy thought) @fmdjaewon music selection: acoustic cover of aria’s five

Despite being one of the main vocals of his group, Samsoo didn’t really get to showcase the full potential of his voice. A large portion of the songs that Unity put out were heavily hip-hop and rap infused, so the rap line got to shine the most, not that he really minded. They deserved all the attention they got because they worked so hard to be the best they could be, and Samsoo was proud of all of them and how far they had come. He’d seen all of them grow during their years as trainees and the magnitude of their development made him exceptionally proud to be apart of their group. He always questioned why he hadn’t debuted in Alien or MARS, but now he knew that it was because he was meant to be apart of Unity.

With that being said, he didn’t feel challenged vocally. The most vocally challenging thing he did on most of Unity’s tracks were a few runs here and there, with the occasional high note. While that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, considering he didn’t have to strain his voice with consistently having to sing vocally tiring songs all the time during promotions, he was bored. He firmly believed in the phrase “Use it or lose it,” which was why on a daily basis, he took it upon himself, when he didn’t have training with one of Dimensions’ vocal instructors, to practice himself. He was sure that the other boys were tired of hearing him singing scales for a few hours in the middle of the day.

When Our Songs rolled around and Samsoo was told that the idols were being given the opportunity to do personal covers of their choosing for their audition for the show, Samsoo immediately jumped at the offer and he already had a song in mind. It was on his list of favorite songs of all time, a song that he could play over and over again without getting tired of it. He considered doing a piano version cover of it, but then changed his mind and decided to do an acoustic guitar cover instead. 

He took a few days to piece together the music for the cover. He had to find the perfect balance between too fast and too slow. It was hard work, and he nearly gave up a few times because he wanted it to be perfect but it just wasn’t turning out how he wanted it to. It seemed as though no matter how hard he tried, nothing would fit the way he wanted. The melody would either be too fast or too slow, the words would be too choppy, or it would just fit together in a way that was awkward and forced. Fortunately by the end of the third day, he had come up with the perfect balance, and right before it was time for him to record his cover and submit it to the production team.

Unfortunately for him, he overslept the day of his recording, and barely had time to rush over to Dimensions to film his cover. He was still in the sweatpants and t-shirt he wore to bed, just with a hoodie tossed on. Anyone with eyes could tell he was still sleepy, but he was awake and alert, and excited to showcase what he had worked so hard on.

He sat down in the chair in the middle of the practice room, holding his guitar in his hand. “Hi,” he directed his words at the camera next to him, smiling slightly. “I’m Unity’s main vocal, Soo.” He bowed his head slightly, before his eyes glanced over to the side where one of Unity’s managers were reading the questions off for him. “I get inspiration for writing music from multiple different places, things and people. I could see a person and get inspired, I could watch a movie and get inspired, or I could even just be spending time with friends and family and get inspired to write something. I guess I can’t really pinpoint one thing that drives my motivation for writing songs, it just.. Comes naturally to me.”

His fingers tapped against his guitar lightly, a minor sign of his discomfort and nervousness. “Tomorrow, Today. I had a great time writing it with Duri hyung. It was fun bringing our ideas together and forming them into something that we’re both very proud of having our names attached to.” When the question of songwriters was brought up, it took him a moment to get his thoughts in order and actually give an answer. “There are songwriters that I admired and respect, but I wouldn’t say look up to. I admire people like Taeyong-ssi and Sung-ssi, to be specific. They have great songwriting skills.” 

The next question made him chuckle. “What’s the goal of all songwriters? To have our voices heard and to touch the hearts or minds of other people. We just want to make music that makes people feel. It doesn’t matter what that feeling is. All feelings and emotions are valid and important to experience in life.” 

He started absentmindedly plucking at the strings on his guitar. “I hope to put my name out there, and make people see that I’m not just an idol, but I’m an artist who’s serious about his craft.” He patted his guitar lightly. “Something I’m about to show you all right now. I hope that you enjoy my rendition of Aria’s Five. It’s one of my favorite songs of all time.” 

He plucked a string a few times to count himself in, before he started playing the song and singing along with the lyrics. He had always loved the song, the sweet lyrics made his heart ache in the best possible way. It reminded him of his relationship with Jaewon in a way, which made the song even more special to him. He couldn’t help but smile as he sang through the lyrics, his eyes closing as he allowed himself to feel the music. 

All too soon, the song was coming to a close and he slowly opened his eyes after he strummed the last note. “I hope that you guys enjoyed my cover. Thank you for watching!” He bowed his head before smiling at the camera until the red light signaling that they were recording shut off. 

[recentanimenews]

OPINION: How I Discovered Haikyu!! (And Myself), Thoughts From a First-Time Viewer

  Haikyu!!'s final season just began, and for years I have been meaning to start watching. Now seems like a great time to rectify that, so I've finally caught up and am eagerly awaiting the next arc to see how the Karasuno Crows fare.

  I decided to track my thoughts on everything that happened — something of a time capsule from before the main cast joined together all the way to them competing in Nationals.

    As a baseline, here is everything I knew about Haikyu!! before watching Episode 1:

It's a popular sports anime about volleyball

The main character is the orange-haired kid, Hinata

They're going to go to Nationals. Not sure about the details, but I know they’ll make it into the tournament

  I actually watched this with someone who has seen it before. She didn't spoil anything but occasionally gave insight I may not have otherwise realized at the moment.

  Episodes 1-6: Joining the Team

    For the first part of the show, we largely follow Hinata's perspective. As I assumed going in, he's our generally underachieving but unfailingly energetic sports boy who hadn't met anyone who loves his sport as much as him until now. Specifically, he meets Kageyama, one of the best setters in the prefecture.

  I started to notice that the storytelling’s actually pretty good when the newly assembled Crows get a practice game with the 4th ranked school in the prefecture. It gives them someone challenging so the main cast can see what they’re up against but also gives them a team close enough to their level that they have a real chance of winning and also keeps the truly powerful foes hidden for later arcs.  

I also really appreciate that during the games, the characters try out new things, but are never truly sure that anything will work. It adds some experimentation and uncertainty to every game.

  Episodes 7-10: Crows, Assemble

    The rest of the main cast joins up with the existing group, forming the core rotation of players and major characters in the show.

  One of the new characters, Asahi, showcases one of the show’s strong points for me. He's the team’s ace, but both he and Hinata grapple with performance anxiety. As my watch-along partner put it, Hinata’s anxiety comes in waves, mostly during games, while Asahi’s is more of a constant background hum.

  As someone who has struggled with anxiety most of my life, I heavily identify with Asahi’s backstory, even down to not going for the spike in the final play of his flashback game due to thinking about how pointless it was since he wouldn't get it through.

  Episodes 11-13: Crows versus Cats

    Karasuno gets its practice game against their rival school, Nekoma. Both teams have fallen from grace in recent years, so this is the Crows’ chance to prove they can crawl their way back to the top and test out their teamwork and strategies from the previous arcs.

  At this point, the mind games aspect of each match starts coming through. Both teams try to figure out how their opponents think so they can react faster, while also trying to hide their own tells to keep their opponents guessing.

  When Hinata first started closing his eyes to make his special fast attacks with Kageyama, I joked that his power-up was going to be just ... opening his eyes. It turned out I wasn’t far from the truth. It doesn’t work immediately, but all of the Crows start polishing their weaknesses to make for a more well-rounded team.

  Episodes 14-16: Preliminaries Round 1

    As the boys go into the Interhigh Tournament, people whisper about the “Flightless Crows.” They proceed to absolutely crush their first opponents.

  The show follows the girls’ volleyball team for a bit, too, amping up the emotions at the end of the first round by cutting between the girls losing while the boys breeze through their sets.

  It’s a bit unfortunate the girls are beaten so badly just to show that the boys have grown, especially since they don’t end up getting much screentime for the rest of the show outside of being in the stands or otherwise supporting the boys.

  Episodes 17-26: Daito and Aoba Jousai

    After getting through the first part of the tournament easily, Karasuno is up against two powerhouse teams. First: Daito, a school with defense so amazing it’s called “The Iron Wall of Daito.” Second, Aoba Jousai, the school that many of Kageyama’s peers, including the setter he looks up to, enrolled in.

  They manage to steal a win from Daito, but ultimately lose to Aoba Jousai.

  The ending of this arc was when I realized I was truly invested in the show. For one, my watch-along partner and I were silent during many of the plays instead of joking about anime tropes like we had been in earlier arcs. Second, during one of the final scenes of the season, the entire team went out to eat after the game and we just silently watched everyone slowly start eating and then mutually begin crying.

  Episodes 27-36: Season 2

    As we start Season 2, there is a very clear and welcome difference almost immediately — the animation and camerawork are a lot better. Neither were bad in Season 1, but now they’re on an entirely different level. As my watch-along partner put it, there is some very naturalistic movement in some of the scenes.

  Also, this is when the team got a second manager, Yachi. I seriously cannot think of a character I have more personally related to in an anime than Yachi. She is a nervous wreck that is constantly apologizing and gets spooked by every little thing, even as small as someone talking to her. She outright views herself as “Townsperson B,” from when she played that role in drama club. I turned to my watch-along partner and said, “I’m in this picture, and I don’t like it.”

  Meanwhile, in the actual plot, my watch-along partner pointed out that while the team started developing specialized skills at their summer camp, the majority of their training seems to be devoted to getting down the fundamentals of every part of the game, then practicing them constantly. Like how Nishinoya is normally the libero and is almost exclusively receiving, but after seeing an opponent’s strategy, wants to learn to toss so he can replicate something he previously lost against.

  Episodes 37-44: Prelims

    The show uses the prelims as an opportunity to shine in two new ways. First, if a player is injured, they're checked to see if it's serious, then given a proper medical exam off the court. No powering through a concussion.

  Second, since main characters are no longer guaranteed to be on the court for the entire game, the cast expands to include other members we previously haven't focused on.

  My watch-along partner mentioned Ennoshita, Daichi's relief player, a few times throughout the show, so I knew he was going to be important eventually. But to give an idea of how little he impacted things until this point, when he was called in, I exclaimed that they were putting Steve McBlandman in the game. Despite that, he really does get to shine on the court. He’s a nervous wreck at first (join the club), but he’s also most likely to take over as captain once Daichi graduates and proves himself to be a reliable teammate by the time Daichi returns.

  Episodes 45-50: Rematch

    In terms of storytelling, there’s not much to add for this game. The two teams are established factions and we know the stakes, so it’s more of a puzzle to see who can find new strategies during the game and outthink the other team, which is made harder by the rivals bringing in a totally new player referred to as "Mad Dog."

Eventually, Karasuno wins, ending Season 2 with a promise that the finals of the qualifiers for Nationals will be the start of Season 3. Due to knowing a few details ahead of time, I already know a single game will be the entirety of the season.

  Episodes 51-57: Final, Part 1

    As both teams step onto the court and warm up, we are reminded that our heroes are pretty much all nervous wrecks, with most of the team in various stages of being curled up on the ground or asking for nausea medication. And, honestly, I was too. By the time the game hits set four, I wanted to grab my inhaler.

  The Crows are up against Shiratorizawa, a team with Ushiwaka, a player so strong that early in the game, it took three blockers and a libero just to return his attack, and later on he managed to dislocate a blocker’s finger with a spike.

  Episodes 57-60: Final, Part 2

    Full Disclosure: I was so invested in this game and the following season I actually forgot to take notes, so everything from here on is a second watch!

In my opinion, everyone gets to shine by the end of the game. Nishinoya sets up a full team synchro attack with his libero toss, Tsukishima is the only person whose blocks come close to keeping up with Ushiwaka, and so on.

  Episodes 61-65: Winter Training

    The first half of the season starts with some of Karasuno’s players being invited to special training camps. Hinata, being too impatient to accept that he hadn’t been invited, infiltrates one.

  Since he wasn’t invited, he’s not allowed to play, leading to him needing to watch the players and game instead of the ball for once. As a result, he starts learning to read peoples' tells and building an intuition of how to move, rather than just relying on instinct.

  Or, as I said to my watch-along partner the first time around, Hinata has reached his ultimate powerup: thinking.

  Episodes 66-70: Downtime

    In the interstitial time between arcs, the team has a practice game against Date Tech again so the Crows can get used to playing together after being apart. We get some character moments, like all the third years going to a shrine on New Year’s, and when the team arrives in Tokyo we finally get a bit of Kiyoko’s backstory.

  It’s hard to pin down what exactly about it worked, but it felt really nice to see the third years all going to a shrine together in their final months before the end of high school.

  And with that, the Spring Tournament, a.k.a. Nationals, begins.

    After going through over 70 episodes of Haikyu!!, I can say with absolute certainty I’m sticking around until the end. I skimmed over a lot of details so every section wasn’t a page long (and even then the first draft of this was over 4,000 words), but every game is filled with strategy, mind games, and experimentation.

  Outside of the games, the show does a great job of building up the cast so the rivals are well-realized characters in their own right. Not the most complex in anime, but more than a wall for the main characters to climb over.

  All in all, the show is absolutely worth the watch. It'll take a while to get through, but it's also easy to pick back up if you need to stop partway through.

  What are some of your favorite moments in Haikyu!!? Are you watching the second half of the newest season with me? Who is best boy? Let me know in the comments!

    Kevin Matyi is a freelance features writer for Crunchyroll. He's been watching anime for as long as he can remember, and his favorite shows tend to be shonen and other action series.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[celestianstars]

Soft Gestures

Florian Munteanu x Reader

For @kati-1997 who requested a fic where the reader is an actress and sings in Creed II with Tessa and Florian falls for her.

This is such a cute idea! I made it fluffy so I hope you like it!

Also, feel free to send requests, headcanons, etc, my asks are open 😊

(Chapter 2 of Falling Is the Easiest Thing will be up either later tonight or tomorrow morning depending on when I get home lol, so stay tuned y’all)

——————————————————————————

Tessa’s role as Bianca was expanding this time as the second installment in the Creed franchise began filming. Her performances were going to be bigger than before and this time around they wanted to have another singer make an appearance as a headliner for a big show she was doing.

You auditioned for the part as soon as your agent found out about it, spending the weeks in between your audition and the confirmation of a yes or no, in a nervous panic. 

The role was such a big opportunity for you, your love of singing and songwriting on the side went hand in hand with your passion for acting and to have the possibility at working with such an amazing lineup of actors was a dream.

The news came eventually though and you basically lost it when you found out you were given the part.

And the first time you met everyone was probably one of those days you’d remember till you died. The sheer amount of star power from Tessa and Michael to Stallone and Dolph, it was insane that you were here and getting to share a creative space with them.

With being a newcomer though, you ended up gravitating more towards Florian since he was new to the party too and it was nice that he knew how you felt and vice versa.

Not only was he incredibly good looking but he was also so talented when it came to acting, he was just a natural and you could see that clear as day.

And when it came to you, Florian thought the same. You had a gift with your voice and your words and acting just enhanced that.

“So are they letting you write your own song or do they want you to write about something specific?” Florian asked you one day while Tessa and Mike were in your kitchen.

Your apartment in LA kind of became the go to spot for the four of you in between filming days just to hang out and relax, and also for you and Tessa to write music.

“Nah, they’re letting me write my own song, which I’m grateful for cause I think my personal sound would fit with Tessa’s music as Bianca.” you tapped your pen against the notepad in your lap, an idea for a verse coming into your head.

Florian was sitting on the opposite end of the couch as you but since he was such a giant, it felt like he was closer and you didn’t mind it one bit.

“I’d love to hear it sometime if you don’t mind. I saw your instagram story when you were in the studio and I liked what you were playing. You’re good at it.” he complimented you, an edge of softness in his voice.

Breaking out into a smile you could feel your cheeks getting red. You were gonna get yourself into trouble if you didn’t stop these thoughts but he had been so sweet to you since the moment you met and every time he said something like that you went crazy inside.

“For sure Flo! And thank you, that means a lot coming from you.” you nudged his knee with your foot playfully, unable to contain the smile on your face.

He caught you by the ankle before you could move your foot away, his other hand coming down to tickle your calf which made you jerk your leg out, catching him square in the jaw.

“I should have known that would happen.” the deep rumbling of his laugh filled your ears.

“Oh my god I’m sorry! Noooo!” you had to hold your side for a minute from laughing so hard cause now he was the one with red cheeks.

“Aww wait let me see!” you scooted closer to him, your laughter subsiding a bit as you ran your thumb along his jawline, his beard feeling soft to the touch.

“You think I need stitches, (Y/N)?!” he feigned concern and clutched his chest dramatically, which made you giggle again.

“Oh yeah sorry to break the news to you but you’re gonna have one big scar on that handsome face of yours!” your hand had dropped down to his chest just inches away from his own hand.

“Ah ok so you admit I’m handsome huh?”

“Ok yeah shut up!” you rolled your eyes, silence falling between you two after that, just the slightest bit of tension noticeable as you both just sort of looked at one another, not really having anything else to add but just wanting to be in the moment a bit longer.

Tessa and Michael re-entered your living room with snacks, making you withdraw your hand from Florian’s chest quickly, scooting back to your original position.

Florian sat up just a little straighter too, both of you trying to act normal but failing cause Tessa could already feel what was up, she saw how friendly you were with each other since you had met. 

She didn’t say anything out of respect, however, she was gonna wait to see how far it went because in all honesty, she could see how good a pair you and him were and didn’t want to scare either of you away from each other by announcing her knowledge of anything.

Florian missed the physical contact of your hand on him as soon as you’d moved away and most of all, the way you laughed. It felt so light and joyous and showcased how comfortable you were around him. 

He knew his appearance was a little intimidating and when he first met you he saw the familiar look of awe mixed slightly with fear in your eyes that everyone had when they first laid eyes on him but you never shied away from him after that. Both of you gradually got closer to each other and it just meant a lot to him to have a friend.

Being in LA was new for him, he had no family or friends out here and he couldn’t really tell them much about what was going on with the movie and everything because he felt like they’d know he was struggling most days, even with how grateful he was for the opportunity.

His character, Viktor, was a man filled with a lot of hurt and he had to go to a pretty dark place to get into character. This was also new to him and he couldn’t find a way to get out of character when he wasn’t on camera just yet so his mood was really tanking, even when Michael would drag him out to eat or hang with him or when he would talk to his family.

He missed them, he was a big family person and not having them near was so foreign to him. His apartment here in LA was so empty all the time and his head space was often filled with sadness lately.

But despite that, you were the one thing that was keeping him sane essentially. Admitting it was hard but he knew deep down that he was falling in love with you every day he was around you.

You made him feel seen and understood and you noticed that he was struggling sometimes and wanted to do what you could to help because he was one of the sweetest people you’d ever met, those were the words you used when he asked you about it one day and that only softened his heart for you more.

To you, nothing about him was fake or forced and you tried making a promise with yourself that this was just a small crush on him because he probably had a girlfriend back in Germany or something but the more you were around him, the more intimate things became.

------

After another day of bouncing ideas off Tessa, you decided it was time to take another crack at the song in the studio and invited Florian along, not forgetting about what he said the other day.

You got to work, playing with the beat, not really happy with the way the bass sounded. It felt off and you spent a good fifteen minutes trying different frequencies out, turning to Florian and asking him what he thought.

“Here, I’ll play the track for you without my voice on it first and you tell me what you think.” you sat cross legged in a chair, swiveling around to face him.

He was sitting with both his feet on the floor, his legs positioned wide which you should be used to by now because that’s how he always tended to sit but you weren’t. He looked so damn good, especially with the gold chain he had on and the all black outfit, he was really looking like a snack and it killed you in the best way possible.

The sound of the beginnings of your work filled the room and you studied his face closely as he started bobbing his head to the beat.

“You made this? It’s like...perfect (Y/N)!” his body moving a little bit more in time with the music as he leaned forward towards you.

“Yeah I produce and mix everything I make, I like doing it all myself really, and you think so, not too heavy sounding?” you stretched and ended up resting your legs on his thighs, which he didn’t mind.

“Ahh the lady does it all huh, that’s amazing,” his forearm now rested on top of your legs, the contact making you shiver slightly. “But no, no it’s really good, I like the dark sound to it but it’s just enough to have the right affect. I told you you were good at this.”

He was so impressed and very much a fan of the kind of music you were making and watching you sing was such a turn on. You would close your eyes and move your body with the song and he had nothing but heart eyes for you when you did that.

You thanked him about a dozen times over the course of the few hours you spent in the studio, not able to stop the blush from creeping up on your cheeks when he praised your skills and kept raving about how your voice sounded and that you should drop an album with that “angelic voice” of yours.

His support was one of the best things; it helped you focus a little less of worrying if everything sounded great and more on just letting it all flow out of you as it came naturally.

You showed him how to use all the editing software and how to make a song from scratch, his attention and interest in something you gave so much of your heart to, filling you with another wave of love for him.

He made you feel special. And for Florian, all he wanted to do was make you feel understood and cared for like you always did for him.

----

The sun had set and the stars were out as both of you headed out of the studio, still laughing about the attempt Florian made to make his own music, which you kept insisting sounded amazing and that he wasn’t bad at singing but he kept arguing your points.

The car ride was silent but comfortable as you drove him back to his apartment. He didn’t want to go back there in truth, he knew another lonely night was waiting for him there and he’d give anything to be with you for a little while longer.

His emotions were easy to read for you and you knew he was deep in thought and it didn’t seem like it was about anything fun.

“Hey...you alright?” you moved your hand from the steering wheel for a second to squeeze his hand gently, the red light from the stoplight in front of you illuminating his features.

“Hmm, yeah. I...just don’t really wanna go back to an empty apartment again.” he held your hand, his thumb running over your knuckles.

His voice was quiet and a little solemn and you felt your chest tighten at seeing him this way.

“Then you’re crashing with me tonight. I don’t want you to feel alone Flo. We can watch a movie, I have ice cream and you have a sweet tooth sooo...say no more!” you stated, leaving no room for him to argue even though he did.

You insisted that he wasn’t intruding upon your life, it was the least you could do and in truth you wanted more alone time with him too.

And that’s how you ended up snuggled against his chest, wrapped in a blanket as the two of you finished up a tub of ice cream.

You were feeling bold and seeing him half sprawled out on your couch gave you the idea to just try it, see what he would do, you’d find out how he felt once you did and wouldn’t have to guess anymore, so that’s what you did, lifting up the blanket draped over his torso, settling down against him as the movie started.

Florian couldn’t help but smile and try and remember how to breathe because this was all he’d been thinking about doing with you for months now. Watching Netflix with you in his arms, that was peace right there.

Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in just a little more, his other hand coming down to hold your chin, gently making you look at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much everything you do is so important to me. Thank you, (Y/N), you’re an angel. My angel.” he let his fingers trail from your temple down your cheek, your eyes closing at the sensation, his words making your heart beat faster.

The movie didn’t even matter anymore because all either of you could see was each other.

“I’d do whatever I can for you, Florian. I like you a lot, more than I can express actually.” your voice was a whisper, still reeling from the fact that he called you his angel.

He grinned and his head fell back against the back of your couch for a second, hardly believing that you admitted it, before he returned his attention to you.

“I feel the exact same way.” he tangled his legs with yours, making you clutch his large frame, wanting to be impossibly closer to him as he placed a kiss on your forehead softly.

You felt so safe and loved in his arms like this, relief washing over you that he was just as into you as you were into him and that everything was falling into place.

It all meant something important and deep and neither of you could wait to spend more time, exactly like this.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Mistakes Were Made

Mistakes were made.

Far be it from Plagg to not take advantage.

Something was wrong.

“AAAH! HELP! IT’S A GIANT BUG! A MOUSE! A-a BUG-MOUSE!”

Something had clearly gone very wrong.

He was pretty certain he was supposed to be waking up to an emotionally stunted anime-loving dweeb with father issues. Now it has been a while since he had last been in the world, and the norms certainly could have changed within that time, but he was pretty sure that the person in front of him was not a boy. And while there were clearly a plethora of issues to tackle, an absentee and yet still overbearing ass of a father didn’t seem to be among them.

The good news was that Fu had gotten the right two kwami and the right two chosen heroes.

The bad news was that he had mixed up which of the chosen received which kwami.

“You’re going to need to calm down.”

“AAH! THE BUG-MOUSE TALKS!”

Because sure enough, Plagg was the one having to deal with the panicking would-be Ladybug instead of his actual intended chosen. Dodging the book she threw at him (because cats are nothing if not graceful), the cat kwami took a moment to consider what his course of action should be.

There was clearly a mistake made. On whose part, he couldn’t quite be sure—actually, he could. Unless the guy abusing Nooroo somehow interfered just enough to get them switched without actually taking them both for himself—which was highly unlikely—it was safe to say the responsibility fell with the Guardian himself. Or Wayzz. Eh, he was going to blame Wayzz for the heck of it. It wasn’t often he got to hold things like this over the turtle’s head.

Still, this was a fine mess they’d made. Sending him to the wrong partner and freaking her out—not that it wasn’t funny, but Tikki was supposed to be the one good at calming people down and this girl WAS still throwing things at his head that clearly weren’t food.

Clearly the responsible thing to do would be to take his Miraculous and go have a word with Fu about the mix up.

…

But what would be the fun in that? He WAS a cat, after all. And since when do cats ever do what they should?

He gave a rather sinister grin at that which only seemed to make the girl panic more as she sought for something to try to trap him in. He watched her, and took advantage of his opportunity to scan her room and analyze what he had to work with.

Pink, pink, and pink—boring.

A computer featuring the rampaging stone monster—useful. He’d have to see what he could find on that later…

Different types of cloth and materials littered over what could only be a workstation near her desk. Pictures of various outfits tacked above it. Next to it was a mannequin draped in what had to be the beginnings of some sort of—oh dear.

She could only be a budding fashion designer.

He gave a mental sigh. Great. Just great. He knew Tikki’s chosen were all about making and creating and life and whatnot, but he’d at least thought (read: hoped) that it’d be in the form of something he could actually enjoy. Or at least tolerate.

Baking was good. A useful and tasteful skill. Why couldn’t she be into baking?

Gardening was even pretty decent. At least then he’d have all the more excuse to nap in the sun.

But fashion? What was there ever interesting about fashion? Of all the quirks the latest chosen had to have, why did it have to be whatever made up ideas of dresswear looked best for the current season? He made suits that looked tons better than anything those self-appointed divas paraded around in.

Still, it was a good point of information. Not only was she creatively inclined, but she was very meticulous as well. Good for Tikki. Better for using the Lucky Charm and making the most use through the least amount of energy. But not good for him.

He winced as he caught sight of a trash bin full to the brim with crumpled up papers that the girl quickly upended to try to catch him with. He deftly flew out of the way in time as she tripped. From his new position, he caught sight of portions of images on the random papers that showcased what the girl considered unworthy designs. He saw no issue in them himself, but there were marks in red and notes of flaws only she could perceive. Which led to the realization that the girl was a perfectionist on top of everything else.

Plagg frowned, realizing he was going to have to change his initial game plan.

This girl was not suited for destruction. With her state of mind, she’d be too fearful of the effects to use his destructive powers effectively. Cataclysm requires intent and focus (with a preference for science and physiology to be able to visualize and effectively break things the way the user desires), but this girl had a tendency to catastrophic that would cause a chain reaction because she would be too worried about what could go wrong to focus solely on what she wants done.

But his power was rooted in chaos just as much as destruction, and for all that she may lack true destructive intent, this girl was a walking storm of clashing luck.

He gave a grin at that. Because this? This, he could certainly use.

It wasn’t often he got to delve into the more abstract part of his aspects. Usually, his wielders were all about tearing things apart and decimating their foes. It was always “blow up this” or “destroy that”. And while Plagg did enjoy catching his prey as much as the next predator, he was a cat, and sometimes cats just wanted to play.

This girl would be good for that. Sure, he had some work to do—she was clearly a little too soft around the edges. But with a bit of sharpening, she could easily become one of his better kittens.

She had skills that he could definitely use. A sort of trickiness he could encourage. And he could properly push her anxiety into a healthy paranoia. It would build character!

While he was distracted, the girl had managed to catch up to him and trapped him in a glass container. This allowed her a good look at him, and gave him another chance to really look at her as he wondered for one more time if this was really what he was going to do. (Yes, it was. He had very clearly already decided on that. But still...)

Tikki would push this girl into a leadership position. She would help her build confidence, so there was that. But she would be adding more pressure and anxiety as well, and her efforts would at some point cause the girl to be stretched thin.

Plagg was more lax when it came to his chosen’s duties. Protect the Ladybug chosen, save the world, and keep him fed was good enough as far as he was concerned. But he wasn’t above giving a little nudge here and there as needed. And sure, it would require more work on his part than he was originally planning to put in this time around, but sometimes the best things required a little more effort.

After all, if she was going to be involved in anything less than reputable, he would at least make sure she was doing it right.

He had to force himself to hold back the evil laughter. Didn’t want to scare the poor girl off completely before they could even get started, after all.

“So, kid. How do you feel about becoming a hero?”

Her wide-eyed stare was all the answer he needed.

MEANWHILE…

“Hello, Mar—EEP!”

“Whoa! Like the genie from the lamp!”

Tikki attempted to smile, but it came off more as a grimace.

Something had clearly gone very wrong.

[rkheejin]

‧ ₊ ˚ ♡ the skills challenge performance!          • • • singing be myself by gugudan // 0:09 — 2:03!

     heejin despises the way her heart skips a beat the moment her name is uttered by one of the judges after an almost painful wait, flimsy syllables tossed out without a care in the world as if they hardly held any importance— as if they didn't make her up name, as if it wasn’t the very thing she'd desperately needed them to do. as if it wasn’t the very thing she was absolutely craving to hear. it's weakness she loathed having ( the sudden and intense need for verbal validation ), as if she hadn't already gotten enough of that throughout her short life so far.

     no, she's become well accustomed to the sensation of praise, of meeting highly set standards with relative ease, hard work and a steady drive of determination propelling her towards the stars. it's here, however, now placed on such an imposing stage, eyes of skillfully perfected focus and unpredictability ready to pick her apart without any warning, that heejin can't help but feel her own walls of unwavering confidence finally begin to shake.

     she hates it— knowing now just how terrifyingly easy nerves can be brought on simply by bated silence ( and just how quickly those nerves and can morph into questioning relief the very second good news is given ).

     confirmation of her moving on to the next round only brings newer, more nagging thoughts to the surface. she'd done it— she'd proven herself yet again, a sure sign that she could do this, that she could pull through as she wanted to and secure victory. yet, that also meant the herd had been cut down significantly.

     room for errors and mediocrity would become slimmer and slimmer the longer this went on, all until nothing short of perfection could be given without fear of leaving this whole ordeal empty-handed.

     heejin refused to leave with nothing to show for herself.

                                                                      ♡

     there's little rest to be had, skin anxiously prickling more and more with each passing day, her mind preoccupied with nothing but sing, sing, sing— correct your breathing here, don't let yourself strain at this part, keep yourself as steady as you possibly can. run through after run through, correction after correction, all painstakingly repeated and ingrained in her mind. heejin is rarely home during this period of time, hardly seen by anyone who doesn’t come looking ( or, in some cases, can’t spare the time to break from their own preparations ), her only true opportunities for rest being forced on her by her academic schedules ( even then, tucked far in the back of her classrooms, something she rarely allowed herself to do, her mind is far from her lessons— no, all she can think about is how she could do better, what she needed to do better, all in the hopes of earning another success ).

     it's tiring, so tiring, but she can't stop. she won't let herself.

     it's only the day before she ( and everyone else ) are set to show up and perform that she finally gives herself a moment to properly breathe.

     she feels stiff, far more rigid than she'd like to be, and that's when she knows she needs to pull back, if only for a moment. sat snuggly in one of the secluded practice rooms located in her schools' music department, she simply sits, letting peaceful silence take her over.

     jungeun comes to mind, images of the blonde submerged deeply within her own element while on stage during the first round playing out as if she had seen them earlier that day, and heejin can't help but wonder how her own practice has been coming along— with her phone grasped loosely between small hands, the brunette almost hits the call button. almost.

     it almost feels like a selfish thought, wanting to reach out for someone ( anyone ) who could possibly understand the growing exhaustion burning through her veins. who was she to distract others, though, when she'd done this to herself willingly? this had been her own choice, her own decision— she wouldn't pull for the blondes attention, not now, when her best friend was no doubt working just as hard ( if not harder ) for her own victory.

     no, she had known what this would all entail the minute she'd sent in her application, bright-eyed and determined. she couldn't lose that fire, not this early over something so simple— heejin would figure this out.

     her phone vibrates silently in her hands, catching her off guard, and it's only a moment before she sees what's been sent.

❪ ⤑ ✉ 3 new messages┆🌙💕 ❫

     her lips break out into a gentle smile, tired eyes softening, and suddenly, she doesn't feel as beat up as before. eyes scanning his words, the warmth in her cheeks only grows, but it's pleasant— it's missed. with words so caring, so encouraging, at a time when she felt she needed them most, there's newfound vigor brewing in her body.

     you will be awesome on saturday!

     heejin could do this.

                                                                      ♡

     walking onto set feels as daunting as it had the first time, her face blank ( save for the slight rise of a single brow ) as she lets curious eyes travel the space, taking it all in. the lack of people is noticeable right from the beginning, the area less stuffy with half the amount of original chairs gotten rid of, but that only makes heejin think— one hundred, such a large and strong number, cut down to a mere fifty with ease.

     well, at least she was aware now that she had actual competition.

     out of the corner of her eye, she spots unmistakable blonde hair filtering around the room, and heejin can't help but feel relief once more knowing they'd made it this far together ( just like she knew they would ). tearing her gaze away, she spots faces and silhouettes she's come to familiarize herself a bit more with thanks to the little celebratory outing yuzu had suggested the week before— short black hair recalls memories of pleasant conversation, of a possible friendship she wouldn't mind growing, and heejins legs take her to where ryujin is sat without protest.

     she sits beside the younger girl with a grin, eyes shining with anticipation, and the thought passes by quickly— she wonders what the other has in store for them all today. while it seemed that singers made up the top percentage of contestants ( heejin being included ), the younger girl was grouped in with the dancers at second. while there were certainly others better at that particular skill, she couldn't deny that the other had a certain draw to her. similarly to kyulkyung, whom she'd also made sure to greet as she passed by, she was an entertaining act to watch.

     of course, heejin had her own biases ( she would always sight jungeun as her personal favorite ), but that didn't take away from anyone else. ryujin was talented in her own right— it would be interesting to see her go far.

     it's only once everyone's seated, noises sounding off and startling the brunette slightly, that it's finally time for things to start. unlike the first time, seeing who the judges are doesn’t cause her heart to beat wildly as it had before— now, it’s almost expected. after all, these were the ones who’d be taking the finalists into their companies when this was all over. who better than to pass judgments than them?

     however, general nerves rear their ugly heads, and for a second, heejin can't help but question herself— question others.

     what if she didn't stand out this time? what if she, despite all of the effort and time put into choosing her song and making sure it was perfect, fell short? would anyone going up before her be performing the same song as her? had her music choice in general been a mistake?

     that last question had been one she'd thought of from the very moment she settled on her vocals— the choice had been difficult, but in her eyes, she felt like it was a necessary one to make. it hadn't been lost on her how, up until now, all of her performances had songs of the same caliber. similar vibes, similar emotions, similar technique. sure, they suited her ( at least, she felt they suited her better than anything else ), but she didn't want to grow stale, boring, in others eyes.

     versatility was important no matter the skill.

     so, watching as the first handful of singers go up and perform, her head nodding along to distant beats and rhythms as a way to soothe her own mind, heejin steels herself. there was no room for doubt anymore, not when her name was about to be called. she needed to be sure of herself, confident in her abilities and quality.

❝ CONTESTANT #5013, JEON HEEJIN— PLEASE TAKE THE STAGE. ❞

     reaching for jungeun's hand quickly, she gives it a gentle squeeze, one that's gratefully returned as a sign of encouragement, and heejin rises from her seat. as she walks to the stage, she catches yuri's eyes and lets herself break out into a soft grin, nodding her head in acknowledgment. she would need to talk with the younger girl once it was deliberation time to tell her how good her performance was— well, would be, considering yuri was up after her.

     she had all the faith in the world for her cousin.

     brushing aside shorter strands of hair that weren't held in her low pony, heejin stands tall in center stage, a signature smile on her lips.

     "hello, it's nice to see you all again—" she can't help but joke, a way of squashing any last remnants of nerves in her system, the mic picking up a small laugh as she bows. "i'm jeon heejin and today, while i'll be singing for you once again, i hope to show you a little bit of a more different side of myself. please enjoy this performance just as much as you enjoyed my last performance."

     receiving nods to proceed, she awaits her music queue, ready to begin. her music starts and, immediately, she's heejin is focused.

날 향한 차가운 눈빛 둘러싼 소문만 참 많아 걱정 마 난 강인하니까 사소한 것에 겁내지 않아

더 강하게 ooh ah yeah 더 당당하게 ooh ah yeah 한계를 뛰어넘어 위험해도 좋아 더 색다른 날 보여줄게

     unlike the first episode, she has no props— no guitar to play, nothing as additional help with the intent to enhance her showcase. now, everything is all dependant on her, on her voice and presence, those two factors being the sole reason she'd done so much in preparation. her vocals had to be spot on, carrying their own distinct flare while still delivering the most solid performance she could with the hopes of leaving her audience wanting more, facial expressions and body language all playing a role in only furthering that agenda.

     her voice is clear, strong as it should be for the power the song holds, adlibs starting out smoothly just as she'd practiced countless times. right away, there's an attitude to be seen— nothing to be taken seriously once she's stepped down from the stage, but something to marvel and become immersed with as she sings.

     flicks of her brow, blatant smirks forming here and there between the words that leave her lips, a sense of appeal heejin has only recently felt comfortable projecting. she's always been confident in herself, in her skills and what she's got to show, but this? this is a little different from her normal, a side to herself she'd rarely ever shown, usually in favor of something more soulful and indie.

     hesitance aside, it's an image she likes— it's one she wouldn't mind expanding on.

be yourself 더 이상 망설이지 마 뭐든 네 멋대로 우리에겐 내일은 없어 난 규칙 따윈 몰라 모두가 깜짝 놀라 다쳐도 좋아 바로 지금 do it now

누가 뭐래도 nothing like what i do do do 내가 뭘 해도 good thing ( good thing ) 좀 더 자유롭게 be myself 난 내 멋대로 살래 잘 지켜봐 yeah

     as she comes to the pre-chorus, the tempo a tad slower, it's the perfect chance to show how smooth her tone can be, a dull fire emanating from her as she puts more soul into her performance. with something so pop, it's easy for ones vocals to flatline and become bland, easily overshadowed by synths and overproduction. heejin doesn't want this, no— she wants her voice to hold as much depth and pull to it as it can.

     eyes closing, there's more focus, letting it all build up until the chorus breaks through, and her voice is lighter, rising and falling to hit her notes prettily ( she tosses a wink in at her almost whispered good thing, tone naturally on the huskier side with how lowly it's done ).

     leading into the bridge, that same soulful quality returns, and she moves in time to the song, heel meeting the floor subtly in time to the beat.

내가 결정해 나다운 게 뭔지 oh 눈치 보지 말고 좀 더 자신 있게 나를 보여줄래

고민하지 마 nothing like what i do do do 끌리는 대로 good thing ( good thing ) 너를 표현해봐 be yourself 세상을 너로 칠해 널 보여줘 yeah what you do

     hand on her chest, she's still pleasantly steady in her performance, inhaling away from the mic when she needs to, and she's entering the final stretch. this bridge, mellow, yet still holding a certain sultry quality to it, allows heejin the slight refresher she needs before letting herself peak in the end.

     opening her eyes, she lets her gaze travel around all who watch her, a brow raised in invitation— an invitation to what? to that, she’s not quite sure. praise? criticism? jealousy?

     challenge.

be myself be myself be myself 가장 나답게 위험해 위험해 위험해 be myself be myself be myself 이 밤이 가기 전에 위험해 위험해 위험해

     her voices echoes around the room as she finishes, music ending with her, and all that's left to be heard are her receding breathes as she pulls the mic away from her face.

     it's silly, recalling how worried she'd been the last week— jaehyun had said it himself.

     you will be awesome.

     heejin was awesome.

[danielxrk]

             ✞ ACOUSTIC + ENG VER *     CHASE ME

given his experience, you'd think daniel would know how this goes; really, he does. he'll blame it on the mental state his singing audition put him in, a little more zoned out than usual which, to be fair can be...mild to moderately zoned out. that's why he forgets that he actually has to stay in this room to show off his special skill, and nearly walks out until the interviewer calls him back with a, "we aren't done yet!"

his face flushes, but he laughs at himself regardless. "oh," he remarks dumbly, scratching at the back of his neck. "right!" thankfully, he brought his trusty guitar along with him regardless, too.

last year, this part of the audition was where he felt most in his element-- tucked away behind an instrument, something he knew he had the slightest right to be confident in. this year, he at least has that again, but the confidence ends here. he went into preparations for this day with determination to show how far he's come in the past year, but he just couldn't escape his ultimate lack of skill. he could show his own growth, but compared to others, how much was that, really?

he tried to find other talents to showcase for this portion; he really did, but most of what he included on his form wasn't something he could bring with him here, unless he pulled up some greek on his phone and read it aloud to the interviewer. he doubted anyone would be able to verify his authenticity in that. it also seemed unauthentic to himself, too, even if it would've better set him apart from the crowd than what he's prepared in actuality. the simple truth is that he just isn't daniel without an instrument. that's how his journey with music started, and if he doesn't bring that with him here, it feels like a certain kind of betrayal, even if everyone on the mgas already knows what he can do. (that's part of why he wanted to do something different, too.)

he wanted to bring his bass this year, just to shake things up, but he heard something about portable instruments, and while he could bring the bass itself, the amp would be a little more of an issue. he has a quote unquote "portable bass amp" that would've still been hard to justify bringing-- could've maybe found a lighter one to buy just for the occasion at the sacrifice of sound quality, but by that point, he was probably better off spending the time and effort on a guitar performance instead. that was what he did, even when finding out sungwoon was going to play electric guitar made him second guess. he got to play the bass on last year's season of the mgas too, in what was surely his most memorable (and favorite) performance he had the privilege of participating in, so he could only hope everyone else remembered that from him, too.

daniel still knew he needed to bring his special skill to a higher level to prove his improvement over last year; just another guitar performance to match countless others in this building wouldn't cut it, at least not for him. he never considered himself particularly competitive or ambitious, and maybe it's not that, more just a desperation to prove himself worthy of the stage, still-- to prove himself worthy of what he's lost for something he didn't even consider a dream a year and a half ago.

so he planned to add a more recently developed skill on top of guitar, and perhaps the one he's most confident in aside from the bass: writing lyrics. but wait, there's more: english, if he hadn't made that clear from his song choices when left to his own devices up to this point. the lyrics are more of an english translation to the rare kpop song he's grown to like than original lyrics, scrawled together a few days before the audition when he decided he wasn't doing quite enough, but his own influences are there, nonetheless.

yet as he sits, guitar in his lap, he second-guesses. the guitar arrangement he planned was intended to just be guitar, not accompanied by his voice, to show off his skill and the guitar's ability to stand on its own, and he isn't so sure if he should sing the english lyrics he prepared after all. maybe there's not anything so wrong with an instrument alone; maybe he has something to prove here, too-- that this by itself can be good enough.

"i'm going to play a kpop song i like," he says regardless, because that much is true no matter what he decides in the next (approximately) ten seconds. "it's by eclipse," and he flashes a smile, and his fingers fall to the strings.

the flow of the intro is easy, and in that moment, he decides if he doesn't show everything he prepared here, he'd be doing a disservice to himself. he isn't guaranteed more than this, and if he doesn't make it any farther, he wants to know he showed everything he has, and so he sings.

i refuse to look at you this time i just want something to thrill my mind i'm so bored of the dreams thought up by empty people

originally, he picked the song just because he likes it, and because he never chose a kpop song of his own volition before. daniel's repertoire of kpop is still limited, even after last season of the mgas expanded his horizons; he never really listened to any of the artists he covered after the fact, but jeongin introduced him to some of his favorite rookie groups and he took a liking to eclipse quickly thanks to the night side of their concept. he didn't realize the lyrics were applicable to anything in his life until he really got a good look at them. now, he sees it as a sort of ode to his alter ego, cameo, and in this moment, he realizes he doesn't know what will happen to him after this.

yesterday it was a thriller what scene shall i cause today? think i'm going to do something to cause outrage

he ends the last line with a strum of all the strings, and the beat in his head picks up, a lead up to the explosive chorus of the original, though it'll be more subdued in this version. the next lines are the most difficult, and in that way, risky, given his short practice time with this compared to the song he prepared for the official vocal portion of his audition. he doesn't think about it in favor of losing himself to the strings and maybe, just maybe, trusting in his voice, however it may be.

i'll sneak out in the dead of this dark night and jump into your dreams so sleep tight just like the fireworks bursting, i'll always surprise you

he knew he couldn't match up to haseul's vocals, so he dropped the baby of the original, choosing to play it on the guitar instead of trying to reach the note. as he sings it, he gives the hint of a smile, something edging on a smirk, maybe because he made it through without any glaring blunders, or maybe because it's his favorite line-- one he hopes to embody throughout this competition.

hear me shout the quiet world will suddenly become loud can you stop it now? can you stop it now?

there's a pause here, between the end of the buildup and the beginning of this chorus, and it's here he decides to let his voice drop and the guitar shine through wholeheartedly. the chorus is his opportunity to show the best of his skill with the instrument, and always contained lyrics he didn't quite like the flow of, so it seems like a good compromise, and it's one he's satisfied with as soon as he plays the first few chords. it's amazing how much more at ease he feels as soon as he does-- something familiar, and the curve of his lips isn't from anything now other than the joy of being back in his element and loving what he does, even if the guitar wasn't his first home. his fingers flit across strings, and finally, it feels like he really has something to show.

it ends too quickly, but when it does, he looks up and beams.

[omg-puddingpie]

Fables/TWAU: Grendel

A continuation from my previous post regarding my OC Lyla and a glimpse into her past with Gren and how the couple came to be. A HUGE thank you to @emmypess who seemed to have brought the spark back, regarding the sudden need to write about these lovelies again. :3

1st chapter: http://omg-puddingpie.tumblr.com/post/177812156242/fables-lyla-smith-i-was-inspired-by-emmypess

Gren was known for two things: Being the ravenous monster who tormented the Mead Halls for twelve years but was taken down by Beowulf and had a temper that was quite unpredictable, which caused so many to remain at bay.

No one took into consideration all the things he had accomplished for this pathetic town; he took down individuals who ran devious plans to end humanity and protected the souls who walked this earth, unaware of the trouble brewing in the shadows. His selfless ability to save those he barely knew went unnoticed. All the world seemed to see before their very eyes was a monster, a drunk and a poor excuse for a living being.

Perhaps they were right, thought Gren, as he took another deep gulp of Whiskey. Perhaps all the good he’s ever done in this life was nothing compared to the foundation that created him. All he was-and will forever be-is a monster. That was it.

Resting his head upon the counter, Gren sighs heavily and digs into his pant pocket. He pulls out a picture showcasing a buxom beauty with golden eyes, pale skin and chestnut hair. It rested perfectly along her shoulders, draping ever so slightly towards her breasts and neck. Her smile was radiant, which caused Gren to smile for a brief time. Time had not been too kind to this photo; there was a crease across the middle, several tears in the corner and a dark smudge on the right side, indicating a stain or even a moment’s worth of anger from the flicker of a lit match. But regardless of all the imperfections, the woman in the picture was still glimmering.

Gren once again exhales. Did SHE see him as only a monster? Was this the reason why she refused to love him? The reason why she ran into the arms of another and left Gren behind, still clinging to hope?

He tucks the picture securly into his pant pocket once more and buries his face into the material of jacket. He crosses his arms into a position willing to hold up his head. Gren closes his eyes and could only picture her: Lyla Smith, the only woman who could ever tame the wild fire within Gren and create feelings he thought were never meant for someone as himself. How he loved, respected and adored Lyla, since the moment the pair met. Gren could still see it all in his mind: After escaping the homelands, he found himself alone deep in the forest of what would become Maine. She was practicing her hunting skills with her father; Gren could still recall the lingering aroma in the air that caught his attention and the mixed feelings developing within. Lyla was in her Wolf form at first but quickly changed when Grendel prepared to charge and protect his land.

He did not want to hurt the woman, nor did he want her to ever leave his sight. In Gren’s eyes, she was stunning. How God allowed such a creation to walk among this world, was a mystery to him. But at that moment, he desired to always be around this woman, as did she, for some unseen reason. It was at that moment, his soul became connected with her very own. Since that encounter, the pair became inseparable. Gren was at peace when he was with Lyla.

Yet here he was, in a dark, lonely bar, attempting to drink her memory away. Why did he let all these centuries slip through his fingers, in a matter of minutes? Gren chokes back the mixture of frustration and depression. Now was not the time, he thought.

He felt a sudden grasp-a warm, friendly gesture-upon his shoulder. Gren manages to perk up his head, enough to uncover his eyes and focus on the white haired woman before her. This was his bartender and longtime friend, Holly. She folds her arms, cocks her hips slightly to the left and sighs.

“You going to be like this all day, Gren? Am I going to have to peel your ass off of my bar stool?”

Gren grunts. “Just pour me another, Holly. Today is a fuckin’ bad one.”

“It’s ALWAYS a bad one, Gren….” Holly reaches for the bottle, reaching for Gren’s empty glass. “Lately, it seems like all you do is drink, moan, bitch, piss and finally, drink again. It’s all you’re willing to do. Get up off your ass, take a damn shower and GO find her. How hard can it be to-”

“I’ve TRIED, Holly….” There was a slight growl forming in his response. “....Don’t you fuckers THINK I’ve been doin’ all I fuckin’ can to find her? Ever since they captured the Crooked Man, took down his operation and held those responsible on trial, her trail has gone cold. No one knows where the ever lovin’ fuck, Lyla Jane Smith went! I’ve looked, I’ve asked around, I even went to goddamn Bigby Wolf and Snow fuckin’ White, considering the man KNOWS her fuckin’ dad but they can’t tell me a damn thing! So, yes: to answer your damn question, I HAVE tried and I’m GOING to sit here and drink all this bullshit away!”

Holly places the top back into the bottle, shakes her head in disbelief and continues cleaning the area around Gren. Despite all the attempts, there was only so much she could do. Holly did not understand why Gren clung onto to a fantasy or thought of ever having Lyla as his own. She’s met the woman on several different occasions and each time was the same. Lyla just seemed cold and holding back her ability to truly love Gren. It was apparent she cared for Gren, this much WAS true and she’d do anything for him but love was never one of them and this confused Holly to the very end.

But if he TRULY loved this woman and the rumor WAS true about his soul already bound to Lyla’s, Holly was willing to muster up all she could to support Gren’s decisions. These soul bound connections are quite serious, from what Holly could understand, especially to Wolves and Grendels. Once it was branded into their soulmate, Heaven nor Hell could tear them apart: it was up to BOTH parties to remove this mark, should they choose to do so and even with this procedure, it was challenging and even fatal. With this bit of information, Holly’s views on Lyla did change; had she wanted to remove Gren entirely from her life, she’d venture to find him and do so. She had multiple opportunities in the past prior to this bump in the road and it never occured, so perhaps there was love for Gren implanted in Lyla’s heart.

Holly leans close towards Gren. “Look at me.”

“Fuck you.” Gren mumbles his response. “Just fuckin’ leave me alone and-”

“Get...UP, Gren.” Holy grasps Gren’s face and forces him to look up. “You NEED to go and find her. You can’t keep doing this, Gren. I know there is….some goddamn hope, for this to work out. If she did not give a Rat’s ass about you, don’t you think she’d do something about it? For fuck’s sake, Gren, her mom is a goddamn grand Witch, who has the power to stop TIME itself with a single wiggle of her index finger. You don’t think she has some mumbo jumbo spell to end this all, if Lyla had requested this?”

This caught Gren’s attention. Was Holly right? Did Lyla feel the exact same way as he did for her? “Fuck….” Gren rubs his forehead. “....Mother fuckin’.....Holly-”

“You need to go into that bathroom, wash your face with some cold water and come down from this pity party you got going on.” Holly takes the glass out of Gren’s grasp. “It’s not a good look for you, Grendel….”

Swallowing back his pride, she was right. Gren carefully removes himself from the seat and leans against the bar. Thankfully, it was empty at that time but who else drank at 10:45 in the morning, besides broken people such as himself? At first, it was difficult for Gren to collect himself; the room was a blurry image of lights and colors but once he took the time to find himself, Gren heads to the men’s room and leans against the sink.

“Yell if you need help in there.”

“I got it.” Gren yells back. “I got it.”

He turns the knob to the left and allows the cool water to pour into his cupped palms. Gren gathers enough, throws it into his face and repeats this process five more time. The liquid was refreshing to his skin and allowed his mind to clear. Wiping his face and hands clean, Gren then takes out a back toothed comb and begins the process of slicking back his hair. Once the strands were tucked into place, the final touch: cologne and a dash of mouthwash, just to remove the foul odor of alcohol still dancing along his tongue.

Gren exits the bathroom, leaving Holly with a grin. “You always did clean up good, Grendel. Now, I don’t want to see you back here, unless it’s good news, you fuckin’ hear me?”

Gren nods and with his final strand of confidence, marches out of the bar and into the bustling streets of New York. The glaring sun and constant noise was something Gren never quite got a handle on but he was willing to look past this a tread forward. He had one chance and one only.

Gren had no idea where to begin but this did not stop his mission. There was one person-and only one-who could lead him in Lyla’s direction.

“Why do you need Hans’ address for, Grendel?” Bigby Wolf questions Gren, as he scribbles down the information. “You better not be causing him trouble. He’s paid his dues for his involvement with Georgie and Crooked Man and-”

“I ain’t here for that, Sheriff Wolf.” Gren snatches the paper from Bigby’s hand. “I’m just lookin’ for an old friend.”

“Lyla Smith?” Bigby takes a moment to expel smoke from his mouth. “John was always careful to mask his tracks, so don’t be surprised if you can’t find anything leading up to Lyla.”

“I need to find her, Bigby. I need to get my answer and we’ll go from there but if you don’t fuckin’ mind, I’ll-”

“Did you even look at the paper, Gren?” Bigby beams. “I’m sure you’ll get some sort of use from it.”

“It’s Hans’ address, right?” Gren begins the process of reading the information. “Swear to fuckin’ Christ, Bigby, if this is a sick game and-”

But it wasn’t Hans’ whereabouts but something even better. It was the address of Lyla’s current location. Gren could feel the color of his face peeling away and the rapid pacing of his heart. There was a faint smile developing on his face, which caused Bigby to lean forward on this desk, hands folded and eyes focused on Gren.

“What….how….how did you get-”

“Jonathan came in two days ago and told me if you ever did return to me, regarding his daughter, to give you this information and he’d be waiting for you. Guess the old Wolf knew you’d be back and refuse to give up.”

“Why the fuck do you even give a damn, Sheriff? I’m JUST Grendel-we’re not exactly the best of fuckin’ friends, especially after all that shit that took place during the investigation with the Crooked Man and-”

“Just looking out for the Fables under my watch, Gren-this means you, too.”

Gren said not another word, tucks the paper away and exits the office. He practically ran out of the building and hails a Taxi cab down. He hands the driver the information written on the paper.

“You speak English?”

The man with a thick mustache and glasses eyes Gren. “Enough, yes.”

“Can you read this?”

“Yes.”

“Then take me here. I wanna go here.”

The man nods and continues to eye Gren. “Dis long way from city. Cost money. A lot. Okay or no?”

Gren opens his wallet, removes all the cash he had and places it beside the man. “Here-money. Lots and lots of it. Now, fuckin’ take me to THIS place, okay?”

The man collects the bills and begins in the direction written on the paper. “Okay, we go.”

Gren leans back into the seat and stares out the window. While the Taxi travels along the busy roads, Gren grasps Lyla’s picture. All he could envision, was her.

[everlarkficexchange]

DUALITY

Written by: @justajjfan

Prompt 37: Her family murdered, so mail-order-bride Katniss marries Peeta who seems sweet at first; the location is remote; something unnerves her. Could Peeta have an evil twin? Or an alter ego? Is Dr. Aurelius really helping or is he not what he seems? Can she trust anyone? Even herself??? [submitted by Anonymous]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mental health (the prompt pretty much says it all)

Acknowledgements: My thanks to the anonymous prompter. Your prompt struck a personal chord with me and I knew I had to try and do it justice. I hope I have succeeded. 

To @sunsetsrmydreams. Not only was this wonderful human being my beta, she took time out from writing her own stories for EFE to make this beautiful banner for me. I also need to credit her for the title of my story. I was stuck for one and she came to my rescue. Thank you friend.

To: Everlark Fic Exchange. Thank you for giving writers the opportunity to showcase their writing skills. This has been a wonderful experience for me personally. 

To: @javistg and @xerxia31. Thanks for your patience and answering all of my dumb questions. 😊

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

My eyes stay fixed on the three freshly dug holes in the ground and with so many people gathered here to say their final goodbyes, I barely register Hazelle’s whispered voice. “Katniss dear, would you like to say anything before they start?” I shake my head. What good are words. They won’t bring them back.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust……”

I should have been there. I would have heard them coming. If only I didn’t choose that night to check the snares that Gale and I had set in the early hours of the morning? If only I stayed in bed. Maybe my body would be buried in the cold, wet ground as well. That would be better.

My trembling hand reaches inside my coat pocket as I recall those words that will forever haunt me. Fingers desperate in their search to touch the one thing that calms me. “For my dandelion, always.” The note attached never revealed its giver but as I grip tightly to the silver locket running my thumb ever-so gently over the intricate painting of a dandelion, I find what I need. How fitting the rain begins to fall so heavily now as I watch the remains of my family being lowered into the ground. The heavy drops mask the tears that I ashamedly try to hide. No one will ever see me cry.

After my family were brutally murdered, the house that I was born in was no longer mine. Repossessed with all evidence of that horrific night erased, readied for a new family to move in.

The murderers were never found. Peacekeepers reported that my father was warned that his illegal dealings in the hob would inevitably catch up to him.

But my father had no enemies. Everyone knew him to be a kind, honest and hardworking man. This was one of many lies Cray and his cronies spun to cover up something far beyond my comprehension. What little possessions my family owned were sold and the money given to the undertaker as full payment for my father, mother and sisters’ burial.

Gale’s mother Hazelle insisted I stay with them but this meant another mouth to feed. After his father was killed in a mining accident, Gale took his place and worked double shifts to help support his mother and siblings. The last thing they needed was an added burden. So, marrying a stranger from one of the richer districts or the Capitol seemed my only choice.

What options were there? I had no means to support myself other than hunting but that was becoming increasingly dangerous with the spate of recent floggings and hangings. People were scared to trade with me which made my situation even more precarious. Even after the Hunger Games were abolished years ago, the Capitol kept its firm grip on each district insisting their Peacekeepers were there to enforce law and order. Sure, the reaping of our children ceased but the oppression of its people remains. There are whispered rumours of a revolution but that’s all they are…whispers.

Many women including those from the Capitol either died or became infertile after the ‘great sickness’ which left a huge demand for young, single and fertile women. The Capitol were quick to introduce the Mail-Order-Bride Initiative to combat the decrease in population. The decision to sign up was made easy and seemed the lesser of two evils after Head Peacekeeper Cray made his odious intentions clear to me.

As a token of the Capitol’s good will, I was given a small sum of coin for registering which I gladly gave to Hazelle. What I didn’t expect was to receive my summons at the end of the first week. I walked through the district in a haze…I’m going to the Capitol.

Saying my goodbyes to the Hawthorne’s was hard and the lonely walk to the train station even more so, as I stopped to take one last look around District 12. I have lived here for all my eighteen years and memories are all that’s left. There is nothing for me here.

“You don’t have to go through with this Katniss. Madge can get us into the Justice Building and file for a marriage licence. We can be married by the end of the day. It’s not too late.”

Gale rushed to meet me after his shift ended still trying to convince me to marry him. But I can’t let him sacrifice his happiness. It would be a debt I could never repay and we would hate each other in the end. His heart belongs to Madge and I could never allow my situation to come between them. He will always be the big brother that I never had and I know his future is with the kind, petite fair-haired girl waiting for him at the edge of town. As for me, my future awaits in the Capitol.

“It’s too late Gale. I was married to my husband by special proxy yesterday. It’s done!” I snap, cringing at my abruptness.

Gale stops in his tracks. “Who is it? Did they tell you?”

I shake my head. He knows the rule forbidding mail-order-brides from knowing the identity of their husbands until their first meeting. This became law and a guarantee that brides would not back out. The punishment for refusing to honour their contract was dealt with severely although it was unclear what that punishment was. These brides were never seen or heard from again.

“I’m sorry Katniss, I wish there was something I could have done.” Gale says.

“None of this is your fault and I appreciate your offer…I do but you need to go and be with Madge and have lots of babies.” I tell him, trying my best to sound positive.

Gale kisses the top of my head and hugs me tightly before releasing me. The whistle blows telling me it’s time to leave.

“I’ll write if I can.” I say as I board the train.

Taking my designated seat on the train, I look in astonishment at the opulence that surrounds me. The Capitol is out to make an impression. It’s clear no expense has been spared as I take in the shining brass, crystal and mahogany tables overflowing with food. I suppose it’s meant to ensure that the new initiative is successful but right now, I have no interest in it.

Looking out of the window as I wave to Gale, I notice another man lurking in the shadows. It’s the town drunk Haymitch Abernathy and normally I wouldn’t think twice about seeing him but something about the way he is staring at me sends a shiver down my spine. I at once shrug the feeling off. I’m being paranoid.

I’ve been travelling for a few hours and my head is already filled with so many questions, I watch the countryside pass me by, hoping to distract myself. The speed of the train is faster than anything I have ever known and I begin to wonder what life in the Capitol will be like for a girl from the Seam. What sort of man picks a bride from a catalogue and pays an undisclosed amount of money for the privilege? Will he be a kind man or a monster like Cray? Will he want children? Of course, that’s the whole idea surrounding the initiative. My stomach twists painfully at the thought.

“Miss Katniss Everdeen?” A strange voice asks.

Startled, I look up to see two men in black suits, peering down at me. Their faces void of any expression.

“Yes, I’m Katniss Everdeen.” I say, as my eyes flick from one face then to the other.

“Your paperwork please.” One of the men orders. He takes it, reading over each line carefully, giving me an appraising glance before he slaps the packet into my hand.

“Everything seems to be in order. If you will follow us Miss Everdeen.” He says, gesturing for me to stand. “Bring your belongings with you. You will not be returning.” The other man adds.

Not returning? I don’t have much in the way of possessions apart from my locket that I keep close to me. I have a change of clothing and my mother’s blue dress and hairbrush as well as Prim’s homemade soap, all neatly packed in my father’s old hunting bag.

The train stops and I am escorted off. The two black-suited men signal the guard on board, allowing the train to continue its journey. There are no buildings in sight and I can’t help feeling a little anxious.

“Why have we stopped here and why am I the only passenger to disembark? My papers state that I am to be delivered to my husband in the Capitol.” My heart rate quickens as the train begins to roll away.

“We have special orders to deliver you in person Miss Everdeen. The hovercraft is due to land in approximately three minutes.”

“Hovercraft? Where are you taking me?” I begin to shout as fear takes hold.

“Calm down Miss Everdeen! We are not at liberty to discuss details with you. Please refrain from speaking with us until we reach District 13. You will be met by your husband’s representative as soon as we land.”

“There is no District 13! You need to take me to the Capitol.” I insist but stop, hearing a strange humming sound approaching from above.

Looking up, I am stupefied at what I see. I’ve only ever seen a hovercraft on the compulsory viewing station that the Capitol insists all citizens watch but seeing one this close, doesn’t compare. I’m almost ashamed to admit my disappointment once on board. Cold, hard steel and emptiness. There doesn’t appear to be any viewing windows either so I stare into the blankness. How different from the train.

I feel like a prisoner strapped into my seat but I am told it is for my safety. The flight is long and bumpy and I am somewhat relieved when we finally land.

Flanked by the two dark-suited men, I walk out of the hovercraft onto a steel platform and from the lack of any natural light, I surmise that we must be deep underground.

There is a middle-aged man waiting at the entrance of a large door. As I draw nearer to him, there’s a kindness in his eyes that looks familiar. A calming shade of blue. I shake the thought from my head.

“Hello Katniss. Welcome to your new home.”

I shake his outreached hand and look at him curiously.

“You don’t remember me, do you? Has it been that long?” The man asks. “Your father used to bring you and your sister to my bakery every Sunday. Don’t tell me you forgot about my famous cheese buns? I believe they were your favourite.” He says proudly.

The Mellark Bakery. Yes, I remember now! “Mr Mellark?” I ask to be sure. He nods. “I don’t understand any of this. I was supposed to go to the Capitol…to my husband but I was taken off the train and brought here…to a district that doesn’t exist! And now you! Everyone said you and your family moved to the Capitol.” I exclaim in my confused state.

“Yes, we did but …” Mr Mellark begins to say. “We have a lot to discuss and I promise to tell you everything you need to know but first please accept my condolences. I was shocked to hear what happened to your family, we all were. Your husband was so distraught when he found out and wanted to send for you straight away but our agents were keeping a close eye on you and the moment you registered for the Capitol’s new initiative, we seized the opportunity.”

There’s a slight pause before Mr Mellark continues. “I know how confusing all this sounds and you must have a million questions to ask but for now I must get you settled.”

“You bet I have questions and I’d like my answers now! You can start by telling me who ‘he’ is and why have ‘agents’ been watching me?” I also want to know more about the Mellark family, but I don’t’ ask.   

“All in good time my dear.” He says, gesturing for me to walk with him. “Your husband is anxious to see you but we need to get you checked by our medical staff before you can enter into the general population. Don’t worry, it’s standard procedure.” He reassures me.

My thoughts run wild as I follow Mr Mellark to some sort of medical facility and then to an examination room where a woman wearing a white coat over a grey uniform is waiting. She instructs me to strip from my clothing and step into a special shower and scrub from top to toe. Unlike Prim’s sweet-smelling lavender soap, the soap they use here has a bleach-like odour to it but I don’t dare complain.

A clean greyish cover-all is left outside the cubicle which I assume is for me to wear afterwards. I am about to dry off when another woman in a similar white coat enters the cubicle and begins to gather my clothes. My quick reflexes take the woman by surprise as I lunge for my coat. Not caring that I am wet and naked, I grasp the locket in my hand and hold it firmly to my chest.

“Don’t be alarmed. Your things will be returned to you once they are properly disinfected. She tells me reassuringly. “Extra care will be given to whatever you have in your hand, I’ll see to it myself.”

I take a few shaky breaths and relent, slowly handing over my locket. “Please…it was a special gift.” I plead, a little shocked at the sound of my quivering voice.

The woman nods and smiles kindly as she gently removes the locket from my hand. “It’s beautiful. I’ll take care of it.” She promises, before turning to head out the door.

Minutes seem to slip by as I am given several shots, vaccinations I am told and blood samples are taken. My teeth are checked and my wet hair is inspected with a special comb. Two hours later, I am given the all-clear and relieved to find Mr Mellark waiting for me at the end of the corridor.

My steps towards him quickens. “My things…they took my things and I want them back.” 

“They’re already in your quarters.” He confirms. “I am sorry about all this Katniss but you may recall from your lessons in school about the ‘great sickness’ that almost wiped out all Panem. Even in our remote location, District 13 was not immune and suffered a huge loss of life. These strict health regulations were introduced soon after. Now, let’s get you to your assigned quarters. You’ve handled all of this surprisingly well but I suspect you’re tired and a rest will do you a world of good.”

Mr Mellark tells me before he leaves that he will come for me in a few hours. Relief fills me when I walk into the small bedroom and find my possessions laid out neatly on a large double bed. My locket has been placed on top of my freshly washed and pressed clothes and I frantically look it over for any signs of damage but am grateful to find none. 

Feeling restless, I begin to look around my lodgings…no, ‘quarters’ Mr Mellark called it. I place my hair brush on top of the tallboy and open the first drawer to find neatly folded shirts, socks and male underwear inside. I shut the drawer quickly and take a breath feeling the rush of embarrassment spread over me. I walk over to the small closet and find pants and other items of clothing hanging. Of course, I will be living with my husband in these quarters. Isn’t that what married couples do?

I lay on the bed and try to rest but my mind is swirling with so many thoughts that I give up after an hour. To occupy my time, I decide to change into my dress and fix my hair in a braided bun. Reaching to the chain around my neck, I take the locket and rub it gently before I tuck it under my dress and sit on the couch. Nervousness aside, I want to look presentable to my husband. With nothing left to do, I wait. 

There’s a knocking sound at my door and I rush to open it. Mr Mellark is on the other side with a huge grin on his face. He has changed into a fresh pair of grey pants and shirt and his hair is combed back neatly. He’s also clutching a small bouquet of wild flowers and my heart sinks. Oh God, is Mr Mellark my husband?

He notices the panicked look on my face as he greets me. “There’s nothing to be worried about Katniss, I promise you will be well looked after.”

“Are you my…are we…married? I manage to splutter out.

Mr Mellark lets out a bellowed laugh to my dismay. “No! Whatever possessed you to think such a thing?” He says regaining some composure.

My hands go to the sides of my head feeling the onset of a headache. “I’m so confused right now. Everything is happening so fast. I don’t know what to believe…or who to trust and then I see you’ve changed into fresh clothes and the flowers…and well, I thought…I…I really don’t know what I thought!”

Muffling his laughter, Mr Mellark explains. “Ah yes, I can see why you thought that. Your husband asked me to give these to you. He picked them himself. You’re not angry, are you?” I shake my head. No, the flowers are a lovely gesture.  

“Good, now it’s not every day I get to witness a toasting and this one is special.” He replies. “You may be legally married on paper by the Capitol’s standards but it’s not official until you toast. Are you ready Katniss?” He asks enthusiastically.

Marriages in District 12 are not considered official until a couple perform a toasting ceremony. But we’re not in District 12 so I’m caught off guard by his eagerness.

Before registering, I was made aware of two stipulations relating to the Mail-Order-Bride contract. The first one being brides will marry their husbands by proxy. The second is that brides will engage in the marriage rituals of their husband’s district once they officially meet. Knowing full well what is expected of me, I convinced myself that these ceremonies would mean nothing. A toasting from my own district however, is something I wasn’t prepared for. I willingly signed up for this and so I give the only answer I can. “Yes.”

A lift takes us downwards and when it finally stops and the sliding doors open there is a sea of greens, reds and yellows. It’s an underground arboretum and the smell of fresh soil and pine is exhilarating.

Gathered around a cleared area is a small group of people. There’s a woman sitting on a bench that I don’t recognise but the three men who are standing next to her, I do. They all look a little older since the last time I saw them but there is no mistaking them. There is one other member of the Mellark family that is noticeably absent but I don’t care to ask.

My eyes seem to have a will of their own and lock onto the youngest son. He may not be as tall as his brothers but his broad shoulders and obvious muscular physique does not go unnoticed. He glances at me but quickly looks away. His face blushes red.

In the corner of my eye, I see a lone figure of a man in a dark suit, standing to attention.

“It’s okay Katniss, he’s just an official that is required to witness the toasting. Our independence from the Capitol came with special dispensations. This was one of them.” Mr Mellark explains. I make a mental note to add this to my growing list of questions.

 “Now, you remember my sons?” He asks as we walk closer to the group. Brandon the eldest and Rye the middle son both greet me with wide smiles as I nod, my mouth gaped open not knowing what to say.

 “The young woman seated over there is Brandon’s wife Lavinia. She’s unable to speak but is happy to be here for your toasting.” The woman called Lavinia smiles and waves shyly.

“Peeta, aren’t you going to say hello?” Mr Mellark gestures for Peeta to move closer to me.

Peeta takes a few hurried steps towards us then takes a deep breath before speaking. “H-h-hello Katniss. I’m Peeta Mellark…your husband.”

My knees start to buckle beneath me but I manage to stay upright. “Hello Peeta.” His name falls from my lips in a whisper and I am suddenly struck with a rush of heat from within. It has been over four years since I saw him last and now…I am his wife.

Memories flood my thoughts. Catching Peeta glaring at me in school or in passing and how he would quickly avert his gaze just like he did moments ago. He was shy but as time went by, I noticed a shift in his mannerism. Peeta’s sweet smile was replaced by a blank almost vacant look and he became withdrawn. We never spoke, not really. Only sharing fleeted glances but I felt a strange sense of loss when he and his family moved to the Capitol.

“You…you were the one who bought me?” My words sound cold and I want to kick myself.

The smile on his face disappears. “Please Katniss, don’t say it like that. I wanted to come for you. I tried but…” He stops to take a breath. “This was the only way and you’re safe now…with me…and you look beautiful and you’re my wife.” He babbles.

“She got that part dummy! Get to the toasting already!” His brother Rye yells impatiently. “Ow! That hurt.” He protests, rubbing the back of his head.

“It was meant to!” Brandon says, sounding rather pleased with himself at his quick delivery of a slap to Rye’s head.

“You’re doing great Peeta, keep going.” His oldest brother says encouragingly.

All this adds to my confused and overwhelmed state but when I look to Peeta, there’s a sadness in his eyes. He looks down at his feet and nods muttering under his breath before speaking. I barely catch it. “I wanted to come for you Katniss…but I had to get better.”

He had to get better?

Mr Mellark places his hand on Peeta’s shoulder. “We can talk about this later son reflection time is almost over.” His father announces.

Peeta lifts his head and straightens his shoulders “Yes, I’m sorry.” Clearing his throat, Peeta looks at me and I am mesmerised by how blue his eyes are. “Katniss Everdeen, I would very much like for you to toast with me, if you will allow it.” He says sweetly.

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I am bound to Peeta by the marriage laws of Panem and that should be enough but how can I deny him? I could have done a lot worse. “Yes, I’ll allow it.”

Peeta smiles and whispers under his breath before walking over to Lavinia who is still seated on the bench. She hands him a small covered tray and he thanks her before bringing it me. “I’m sorry we can’t light a fire but I toasted the slices in the kitchen ovens myself. They’re still warm.”

He carefully removes the clean cloth and at that precise moment my stomach begins to rumble at the aroma of freshly toasted bread. I realise I haven’t eaten since this morning. “We get to eat at the end of reflection.” Peeta whispers smilingly.

Everyone gathers around as Peeta and I begin to toast. It is a simple tradition, one that dates back hundreds of years but to those from my district, it is one that has special meaning. No words are needed. Just the feeding of toasted bread to each other which signifies a couple’s commitment to love and protect one another no matter what.

Peeta gently places a piece of toasted bread in my mouth and tells me he will always protect me. I chew slowly trying to think of something to say. The words “thank you” spill from my mouth as I feed him my piece of bread and I know as soon as I say them, how inadequate they must seem but he smiles and chews. It is done…we are now bound together by the laws of District 12.

There’s shouts of ‘hooray’ and ‘congratulations’ from Peeta’s brothers and father. Lavinia walks over to us smiling and hugs us both. I look to see the dark-suited man is walking towards the lift satisfied that we followed the rules. I turn to Peeta and catch him staring at me but this time he doesn’t look away. Neither do I.  Before long, a woman’s voice comes through the loud speaker announcing reflection time has finished and dinner will be served in the communal dining hall.

As we enter the dining hall, I begin to feel a little intimidated by the large number of people gathered in one place. Peeta tells me this is where everyone in the district eats regardless of rank or position. “Don’t let their stares worry you. They do that to all new comers.” Peeta must sense my discomfort and is quick to reassure me.

He sits next to me, handing me a rather large serving of meat and vegetable stew that smells amazing with two freshly baked bread rolls on the side. I question where his meal is and he tells me he wasn’t hungry so he piled his serving onto mine. That won’t do.

“No Peeta, I’m not going to take your food. You’re going to share this meal with me or I don’t eat either. Okay?” I say stubbornly handing him a heaped spoonful of stew.

“Okay.” He yields and eats the first spoonful before filling it with more stew to hand back to me.

“Aww, look guys they’ve only been married an hour and she’s already bossing baby brother about.” Rye says but quickly looks down to his food and continues to eat quietly after both Mr Mellark and Brandon give him a look. Lavinia who has been quiet, covers her mouth trying to hide her smile.

After we finish eating, I listen intently to Mr Mellark and Brandon talk about life in District 13. How everyone is assigned duties for the common good of each citizen. There are three square meals a day and everyone has the freedom to speak their own mind without the fear of receiving a lashing or something worse. Brandon calls it ‘democracy’. Everyone undergoes basic military training and thirteen has its own elite Peacekeeping squads. I cringe at the mention of Peacekeepers but Peeta tells me they are nothing like the ones back in District 12. 

When Brandon tells me that every citizen in thirteen has access to free ‘state of the art’ medical care, I think of my mother and sister. They were natural born healers and would have flourished here. Their knowledge of herbal medicines and salves would have proven invaluable. Peeta sees me deep in thought and gently brushes my hand with his fingers. Surprisingly, I don’t flinch at the sudden contact. In fact, I find it comforting.

The overall running of the district falls to President Alma Coin and she was instrumental in freeing District 13 from the tyranny that is the Capitol. 

It doesn’t seem fair. How could District 13 thrive in secret and ignore the sufferings of others? There is so much more I want to know but that annoying woman on the loud speaker announces meal time is over and sleep time is due to start. Everyone adheres to these rules and only those with specifically assigned roles are exempt. This will take some getting used to.

Peeta slides the door open and waits for me to enter our quarters first. I take small hesitant steps inside and I can’t help feeling nervous. This is my wedding night after all but I’ve never done anything like this.

“I know what you’re thinking Katniss but you don’t have to worry. I would never do anything to hurt you or do anything you don’t want. I’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“We’re married now Peeta. I’m supposed to obey my husband.” I say almost robotically.

“No! I don’t want you to obey me Katniss. I didn’t marry you like this for you to think you owe me or you have a duty to fulfil. That’s not why I did it.”

“Then why did you do it Peeta?”

He pauses. “You’ve gone through so much. Losing your whole family and your home. I knew you were out of options when you registered for this initiative. The thought of someone touching you, hurting you like they did to Lavinia. It would kill me.”

Peeta stops. He shakes his head not wanting to continue but I insist. “Did someone hurt Lavinia?” He nods, closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

“Lavinia was a mail-order-bride too. Her husband was a cruel man from the Capitol. She couldn’t fall pregnant and so he sold her because she was ‘flawed goods’. She was assigned to an escort agency but refused to service their clientele. As punishment, they cut out her tongue and shipped her to District 11 to work in the fields. Lavinia’s an Avox.”

My breathing stops as I take this all in. Lavinia never said a word during our toasting or dinner because…she couldn’t.

“How did she get to be here?”

“Lavinia and a few others from District 11 devised a plan to escape. Brandon and his squad were on a routine reconnaissance mission when they found her, barely alive. The other escapees never made it. The thought of something like that happening to you…”

Peeta’s clenches his hands into tight fists and I can see the tips of his knuckles turning white. “I won’t let anyone hurt you Katniss.”

I take his hands in mine and bring them to my lips softly kissing them. “I know, because you will always keep me safe.” I say to him softly.

Peeta nods and stares into my eyes and I wonder if he will kiss me but he doesn’t. “We’ve both had a big day. I think we should get ready for bed.” He says bringing me back from my thoughts. “I’d like to show you around tomorrow if you like. I’ve been relieved of my duties for a few days and it may take some time before you are assigned one. It’s not home but after a while you’ll see that it’s really not so bad here.”

It’s not home but I will try and settle in for his sake.

We take turns in the bathroom and ready ourselves for bed. Peeta has already laid blankets and a pillow on the couch and makes himself comfortable.

“Good night Katniss. I’m so happy you’re here with me.” He says from the couch.

“I’m happy I’m here with you too. Good night Peeta.” I say softly before entering the bedroom and turning off the lights.

I have been in District 13 for ten days now and still haven’t been assigned any duties but Peeta tells me to enjoy my free time while I can. He leaves in the early hours of the morning to work in the kitchen bakery until midday then he comes back to our quarters to shower and change. The rest of the afternoon and night are ours to spend as we wish and quite often Peeta takes me down to the underground arboretum during reflection time because he knows how much I enjoy being there.

Things progress slowly between us. We both agreed to share the bed after I would wake in the middle of the night from one of my nightmares only to hear Peeta whimpering in his sleep. His nightmares would often leave him shaking and calling out for me. So, every night he holds me in his arms and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart which always lulls me to sleep. Peeta says that holding me in his arms helps him too. I’m glad.

Most mornings, Peeta wakes up smiling and eager to get to work so he can spend the rest of the day with me. But these last two days have been a struggle for him and even though he tries to shake it off and tell me that he’s just tired, I know there’s something more.

Walking back to our quarters after dinner, Peeta places his arm around my waist and I snuggle closer to his body, letting him know I’m perfectly okay with it even though I was a little annoyed with him earlier. Peeta snapped at me today when I asked about his mother. I remember her always angry and almost every day she could be heard yelling at her boys. Peeta mostly.

‘I’m sorry I got angry today Katniss. I’ve been a little edgy lately but I promise things will get better soon.” Peeta tells me.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. You know that, right?” He nods. “You’ve been a bit out of sorts lately but you know whatever it is, you can talk to me. We shouldn’t have any secrets between us.” I tell him honestly, remembering how my parents would always discuss things together. “You’re not sick of me already?” I add jokingly.

Peeta turns me to face him and cups my face in his hands. “Don’t say that Katniss…don’t ever say that.” He says pleadingly and kisses me softly on the lips. This is the first time Peeta has kissed me there and the tingly feeling leaves me wanting more but we are interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

I turn around to see an older gentleman with spectacles looking a little flustered. “Oh, my apologies for the intrusion but I’ve been looking all over for this young man. Your father said you were heading back to your quarters.” The man continues.

“I haven’t seen you for a few days now and my secretary informed me that you keep cancelling your appointments.”

Peeta doesn’t say anything and holds onto me tightly.

The man turns his attention to me. “Ah, this must be your beautiful bride Katniss. I’m pleased to finally meet you. Peeta has told me so much about you during our sessions. I feel like I know you already. I’m sorry, where are my manners. Let me introduce myself, I’m Dr Albert Aurelius.”

Peeta spoke about me before? I take the doctor’s offered hand and shake it. “I wasn’t aware that Peeta was sick. Is there something I should know?” I ask, turning to my husband.

Peeta looks to the doctor but doesn’t comment. There’s a look of anger in his eyes and I know he’s keeping something from me.

“I’m afraid that is a discussion you need to have with your husband.” Dr Aurelius replies. “Peeta, I can only stress the importance of you sticking to our scheduled appointments. Now, I have some free time tomorrow around 2:00pm. You can bring Katniss along. I’d be happy to speak with both of you.”

“No! I don’t want Katniss to be there.” Peeta practically shouts and I find myself a little hurt at this rejection.

“Very well Peeta, but I still expect to see you in my office tomorrow at 2:00pm.” The doctor confirms.

Peeta only nods in agreement. Dr Aurelius smiles and bids his farewell before leaving in the opposite direction.

Perhaps I’m being a little hasty in my decision but I instantly feel distrust towards this doctor.

Peeta doesn’t say anything and I decide to stay silent for a few minutes but my head is full of questions that needs answers. “Why do you need to see a doctor Peeta, are you sick?” I finally ask.

“No. He’s not that kind of doctor.” Peeta answers trying to be non-committal.

“Well then, what kind of doctor is he?”

Peeta is silent as we approach our quarters choosing to ignore me.

“Peeta, you’re not answering my questions. If there is something wrong with you I think I should know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me! Why does everyone say there is!” Peeta’s tone grows harsh.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” I say as I take a step back.

“Forget it! Just leave it…maybe he was right all along.”

“He? Peeta, who’s he? Dr Aurelius? Maybe I should go with you and see this doctor tomorrow.” I say, trying not to let my emotions carry me away.

“Drop it Katniss. I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want you talking to Dr Aurelius okay! Things will get better, you’ll see.” Peeta stops at our door and slides it open with such force that it rattles.

He’s talking in riddles and it’s infuriating. “No, I won’t drop it. We need to talk. I want to help you.” I demand as we walk into our quarters.

Peeta has his back to me. “He doesn’t need your help!” A voice sounds and I look around the room thinking that someone snuck into our quarters without me noticing. But there’s no one here but Peeta and I.

I must have imagined it. So much has happened to me these last few months that my mind is surely playing tricks on me. Did I just here Peeta say ‘he’? Before I can say anything, Peeta tells me he is going to get ready for bed and closes the bathroom door behind him muttering to himself.

Pacing the room, I wait for Peeta to finally come out of the bathroom as thoughts run through my head like a freight train. The subject about his mother was brushed aside and he did the same with Dr Aurelius just now.

Initially, going into the Mail-Order-Bride Initiative without feeling or care was just a means of survival. I would never allow myself to have a strong connection with my husband but this is Peeta! Whether it was luck or fate that brought us together, I know I have an important role to play in all of this.

I no longer want to be that lonely girl from District 12. No! I’m his wife now and I’m going to help him get through whatever this is and to do that we need to talk about everything, even the deep stuff. I have that right, don’t I?  

When Peeta finally comes out from the bathroom, I meet him by the couch.

My heart feels like it’s going to explode from my chest but this needs to start somewhere. “Peeta, where is your mother?” I finally ask the question that has been playing on my mind.

He sighs deeply and shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about her Katniss. She can’t hurt either of us ever again.”

But that answer does nothing to satisfy my curiosity so I ask him again. “But what happened to her.”

“I’d rather not talk about her right now, okay?” Peeta begins to rub his hands nervously against the fabric of his pyjama pants before standing abruptly to pace the room.

“No, you can’t keep brushing me off like this. We need to talk about it.”

“Please Katniss, I don’t want to talk about her, not now…just not now!”

“When Peeta? You keep saying that. We can’t start our lives together with secrets.” I start to explain but am interrupted by Peeta…only it’s not his voice. 

“HE SAID HE DOESN’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT HER!” The words coming from Peeta’s mouth are sharp and cold. What is happening?

“Peeta?” I reach out my hand to touch him but he pushes me away.

“LEAVE PEETA ALONE!” He growls.

The voice coming from Peeta’s lips is not his. Unfamiliar and much deeper, it hits me like a punch. I watch in disbelief as his face morphs, revealing a cold, fierce expression, the line of his jaw clenched, making his features appear more angular. When I catch his eyes I shiver, the pupils have blown, changing from a deep blue to an unending pool of black. Am I imagining all this? I don’t know if I can trust what I’m seeing. “Peeta please, what’s wrong.”

“I SAID LEAVE PEETA ALONE!” Peeta is looking down at me but when I look to his eyes it’s not Peeta that I see. Fear races up my spine.

He is staring angrily at me and those dark eyes shake me to the core. My body starts to tremble as I take the few backward steps needed to reach the door. With my hands behind my back, I feel for the door handle and once I have it in my hand, I slide it open and run. I run so fast that I don’t realise I have gone down six flights of emergency exit stairwells before I stop to catch my breath.

I search for somewhere to hide. Somewhere I can sort out in my head what I just saw. Do I even trust myself to believe it? As I frantically look around my surroundings, I find a small storage room that is unlocked and rush inside locking the door behind me. I crawl behind some shelving and curl my knees tightly to my chest. I reach for my locket bringing it to my lips and I do something that I have not done in a long while. I begin to cry. Salty tears sting my eyes and the more I try to supress them, the more they flow.

Oh God! That wasn’t Peeta.

[tea-and-toblerones]

The One Where Ed Gets Sexy on the Dance Floor | A One Shot

You all wanted more from my bar blurb so since you've been amazing your wish is my command! 

It wasn’t often that you went out to bars. The drinks were overpriced. The people grew rowdy and it was usually too loud to have a conversation because somebody has to blare Free Bird on the jukebox. Singing drunkenly along as loudly as they can. Yet here you were with your group of friends, entering a bar you’ve never been to.

You can feel the party vibe as soon as you step in the door. Music’s playing in the background, thankfully not Free Bird and surprisingly, not that loud. People were sitting around drinking while holding conversations. Some were playing pool at the table in the corner and others were dancing around to the music. It felt fun without being forced or overbearing. You go up to order your drink, coming up beside a ginger who was casually leaning against the bar. You spot the sleeves of colorful tats that covered his arms and your breath catches in your throat.

Holy shit, that’s Ed Sheeran.

You fall in line behind him as you wait for the bartender, feeling a bit starstruck. It’s Ed fucking Sheeran right in front of you. You want to say something but you find you can’t. You didn’t know what to say either way.

Oh my god you’re Ed Sheeran- yeah he knows that.

Your music’s amazing- he hears that all the time but still would probably love to hear it.

I love you, you’re sexy as fuck- annnnnnd now it’s awkward

He must have sensed the battle you were waging with yourself because he turned back to face you. His face wearing a slightly sheepish looking grin.

“Crazy night, innit?”

Yeah no kidding I’m in line with ED SHEERAN. Am I dreaming?

“It got a little crazier when I lined up behind you. I’m a fan of you and your music.”

His eyes lit up a bit as he turned fully towards you. “Really?” A lopsided grin came across his face. “Me AND my music huh?” He put heavy emphasis on the and, his eyebrow coming up in a teasing way.

“Yep. Both.” You state simply, your eyebrow mimicking his. “How could I not be? You’re pretty lovable.” It slipped out before you could stop it. His facial expression looked even more amused, if that was possible.

“Oh? I’m lovable?”

Oh that expression….that smile, the way it causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners. How it engulfs his face. “You are. You’re definitely someone I’d love to spend a day with.”

A smirk came across his face. “Are you hitting on me?” His tone may have came across as a question but his face read like he knew that’s exactly what you was doing.

Well it's too late to back out now.

“Yes, just badly.”

Words are hard, okay?

The bartender picked this opportunity to appear. Ed gave his order, taking a look your direction.

“And add whatever she’s drinking.” That adorable smile on his face again. Seriously nobody has the right to be both that cute and that attractive in one package. You give the bartender your drink choice. As they left to make the drinks he turns back to you.

“Come find me before you leave.”

He adds a wink before  collecting his drinks and returning to his group of friends. You remained by the bar, your head still spinning. Did that actually just happen? And that wink. Oh my gaaaaah. You could almost feel your heart explode.  You felt a hand come down on your shoulder lightly snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Your drink’s ready miss." The bartender slid it toward you, clearly amused by the interaction they just witnessed.  You snag it up and quickly rush over to your group of friends

"Guys!" You hiss as you rejoin the group. "You won't believe what just happened! I just met Ed Sheeran! I accidentally flirted with him and he flirted back!" They all began talking at once.

"How do you accidentally flirt? I know you. It was no accident."

"Ed Sheeran's here? Where? Omg, see I said this place was trendy"

"Why are you with us then? Go get your flirt on girl!"

"Shut up! No way?! You think he'd take some pictures?"

Once they die down you begin to to address their questions

"It was an accident because my brain checked out and my mouth took over."

"Bet you'd like your mouth to do more than that."  One friend muttered, causing the rest of them to cackle like a bunch of teenagers. You flap your hands, trying to shush them. They just shrug, taking a sip of their drink with a satisfied smirk on their face.

They weren't wrong. The things you'd fantasized about doing to him. The debauched thoughts that crossed your mind as you watched his videos. The way his fingers worked on the strings, imagining how they'd feel working on you. The way he beat that guitar, spanking it, his face pulled into a look of concentration that should be illegal. The deep raspy growls he lets out causing you to feel things. The way the tendons in his neck stood out as he belted out a powerful note. The way his curly locks stuck to his damp forehead, just begging to we brushed aside. The way he swayed and bounced as he played.

Now that you've actually met him you felt like you should be doused in holy water and finding jesus. Before he was a fantasy, now he's an in the flesh being. An in the flesh being who has requested you to track him down. You prayed that your mouth and thoughts behaved. You'd rather not embarrass yourself. After you had a couple drinks and started feeling the effects of the alcohol loosen you up a bit you and your friends hit the dance floor. You're really feeling the beat, your hips swaying back and forth, arms raised up pumping to the beat. It was bad but you didn't care, you were having fun. When one of your friends snuck off and put Yeah by Usher on you really began to showcase your bad dancing skills. Your friends cheering you on as you bopped your way around the floor. You were so into it hadn't realised you had company until his accented voice was in your ear.

"Looks like you're enjoying yourself over here. Care if I get in too?"

You don't even hesitate, you're in full on party mode, alcohol fully influencing your decisions now. You grab onto his wrists pulling him toward you. He quickly fell into step with you as you were swaying and moving around him. You already knew his dance skills were on par with your own.  His arms here, there and everywhere, moving where ever the beat carried them.  A huge grin plastered on his face as he bounced around with you, shout singing to each other. Most people had cleared a fairly large circle around the two of you. You assured yourself it was because they were enjoying watching the two of you and not at all for their own safety.

You couldn't believe you were dancing with Ed Sheeran. You could see all four of your friends with their phone's pointing at you. One shaking their head at your moves,  one was nodding to the beat clearly feeling it, one was giving you a thumbs up a huge smile on their face, the other winking and grinding their hips, telling you to go get up on him.

You couldn't ask for better friends.

When Thrift Shop came on, you had a sneaking suspicion that they chose what they thought were the best songs to dance to. You have to remember to send each of them a gift basket once you sobered up. You both threw yourselves into it. Fingers flying up, pointing to the sky as you slung rhymes at each other. You could see his clothes starting to stick to his body as he moved. His forehead glistening under the light, his hair beginning to stick to it. The way he leaned back as he yelled 'Yo, that's fifty dollars for a t-shirt!'  At this point you didn't care if you looked like a deranged chicken, you were having the best night. Nothing could get any better than this.

Then their final song choice came on. Pony. You didn't even have to guess which one picked that particular one. You were close enough that you could hear him singing along as his hips swayed to the beat. Your hands hovering over his hips, he quickly grabbed them, pressing them against him. His hands came down on your hips. Your body pressing against his as you grinded to the song, hearing him singing it in your ear in that sexy accent that made the energy even more sexual in nature. Every hip roll send tremors throughout your body as you essentially dry humped each other in the middle of the dance floor. His bedroom eyes were on full display as he serenaded you.

Holy fucking shit. I'm going to burst into flames any second now.

It both felt like an eternity and a heartbeat. You didn't break apart when the song ended. You remained there, his hands were on your waist, yours had traveled to his back. His shirt was damp with sweat, his breathing was ragged and you knew it had nothing to do with the intensity you were dancing. The air was crackling with electricity. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Another song had kicked on, another upbeat dance song you didn't recognise. People had flooded back on the dance floor, bodies were rocking and swaying all around the both of you. They might as well been a million years away. You were in caught up in the moment.

"I'm parched, how 'bout another drink?" His voice raspy, causing you to groan internally.

"Your friends won't be mad?"   

"After that little display we put on, they'd be mad if I didn't."

You saw your friends had already returned to dancing. You had a feeling they would have no problem with you ducking out on them for a bit. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. After you collected refills and an order of nachos because you both had worked up an appetite out there on the dance floor. You chatted as you ate, playfully fighting over the primo cheese covered chips. Once they were gone and the drink had turned into a couple you both hopped back on the dance floor. There was no hesitation when it came to touching each other now. His arms wrapped around you, his hands resting on your thighs as your ass swayed against him, your hands on his faces, revealing the feel of his scruff under your palms. His hips moving in rhythm with yours.

You never wanted it to end yet that's not how life works.

As Semisonic's 'Closing Time' played signalling it was time to start settling your tabs and gathering your stuff, you're about to get kicked out. He hands you a napkin, a drunken grin on his face.

"We spent all night dry humping, the least I could do is give you a proper dinner."

He's giving me his contact info. I died. That's the only logical explanation.

He gives you a hug and walks out the door.  

[rachellecdavis]

The Psychology of Singing: The Voices In Your Head

My Conversation With The Man Who Shaped Beyoncé’s Voice

David Lee Brewer gave me a ring from his workspace in Berlin.

He’s barely mentioned in Destiny’s Child history as a “vocal coach” who taught Beyoncé. 

David wants people to know...he’s much more than that. 

He told me that his role is a psychological vocal therapist, which encompasses multiple types of vocal training. 

And, in Beyoncé’s own words (as relayed by a VH1 producer), he was “probably the most influential in terms of her artistry and singing.”

From afar, he watched Mathew Knowles (Beyoncé’s father) take credit for David’s incredible accomplishments over his 11 year relationship with the group.

These include:

Co-founding the group Destiny’s Child with Ann Tillman

The musical development of Beyoncé (and the whole group)

David’s summer camps that prepared the group for showcases and a record deal

At the request and insistence of the Knowles family, David lived and taught lessons for years in the spare apartment above the Knowles’ garage in Houston.

David Lee Brewer raised Beyoncé, and was the hero who slayed the psychological demons of Destiny’s Child.

The reupholstery of pop music

The Destiny’s Child story is full of all sorts of plot twists and turns. Brewer wrote about it extensively in his 2017 book release, Beyoncé: Raising Genius. 

The plot twists are fueled by the reliable idiocy and abuse of Mathew and Celestine Knowles. 

Their nonsense was so common that you could “set your clock to it,” as David likes to say. 

The beginnings of the award-winning girl group started with a 9-year-old Ashley Támar Davis and an 8-year-old Beyoncé Giselle Knowles.

As soon as David met Beyoncé, he knew that she would change music forever...that her impact would be great.

“Did I know this when I was teaching her...when she stood in my living room? Of course I did,” he told me. 

Did I know that she would have the reach that she has? I prayed for it.”

What David didn’t know was that he was in for a wild ride with the Knowles family...along with the psychological woes of the other girls and their families.

This included everything from cocaine addiction to marital affairs, domestic violence, theft and fraud, bipolar disorder, and even molestation.

There couldn’t have been a more perfect man than David to deal with these situations. He was never just a vocal teacher. He became a professional entertainer at a young age in Omaha, Nebraska, starting with modeling and dancing. 

He also witnessed terrifying abuse from his step-father.

David’s stepfather was physically violent with David’s mom. He also shot a man in their living room, forcing the SWAT team to come to the house. 

Years later, at a fashion show that David was modeling in, his stepfather showed up, fresh out of prison, and sexually harassed David.

Mama Brewer became a family therapist. David read her textbooks starting at the age of nine. At that time, he wanted to be a psychiatrist. 

Seeing his stepfather again at the fashion show rekindled his interest in psychology. 

Combined with his performance training and entrepreneurial pursuits in college, David had the insight and knowledge to create what he calls a complete, 360-degree artist. 

“Every facet of your performance art is mastered...every facet. 

Movement, interviewing, style, culture...everything is developed. And you are holistically healthy,” he said on the phone. 

A 360-degree artist reaches a level beyond singing, dancing, and performing well. 

“He can, with one movement of his finger, he can change the world...standing on stage, [artists] embody the music.”

The making of a 360-degree artist

I asked David what exactly he saw in Beyoncé at the age of eight. 

“She had a humanity that was extraordinary,” he said. 

According to David, little 8-year-old Beyoncé embodied humanity and honesty to the fullest. She respected tradition, had empathy for fellow humans, and an incredible work ethic. 

Her extremely curious nature, hunger for knowledge, and obsessive desire transformed her skill set throughout the years working with David. 

“If I were to start talking about Sarah Vaughan, Beyoncé would stop what she was doing and sit down and want to know everything about Sarah Vaughan. Then she would ask me if I had any tapes of Sarah Vaughan. Then she would listen to them and digest them. 

Then I would talk about Miles Davis and how he could paint pictures with his sound. She would listen to Miles Davis and try to understand what I was teaching her. She had an interest beyond the normal.”

David also recognized himself when he saw Beyoncé. 

David grew up under the wing of his singing and dancing grandparents. They gave him lessons every Saturday. 

Always curious, David never ceased to ask questions about nearly everything. He devoured his mother’s textbooks. The man was designed for massive success as a pupil and teacher. 

In 1988, David was working on a graduate degree in Cleveland and pursuing his professional opera career. What he calls a “still, small voice” convinced him to relocate to Houston immediately. He cites this spiritual intuition as one of the reasons he stayed through all the crazy parts of the next decade. 

Meeting young Beyoncé in 1989 was the biggest sign that David was in the right place. He immediately saw his opportunity to make a huge impact.

“I didn’t want to teach her just to sing...I wanted to galvanize music. I wanted to change it. I wanted to influence it and the reason why I did it, is because I’m an opera singer. I had no plan on teaching pop music. It just kind of happened.”

Explaining the significance of Beyoncé’s impact on culture, David noted how often we still talk about just a handful of presidents throughout the United States’ history. 

Abraham Lincoln is long gone, but his influence has lived on for generations.

“This is what I felt when I was teaching Beyoncé...that her humanity would last through generations. I could feel it, I could see it, I could smell it. She had a humanity that was extraordinary.” 

David asked me how often I hear references to Beyoncé, particularly in movies. It made me realize that Beyoncé is as ubiquitous as chewing gum.

And I was talking to the man responsible for it.

David Lee Brewer wants the world to know who he is...not because it’s that important to his ego, but because the Knowles family hid the depths of his contribution to culture for so long. 

Beyoncé’s father has taken credit for nearly everything David did over the span of 11 years. 

Beyoncé’s success isn’t ultimately what David Lee Brewer wants to be known for. He’s had a respected career as a professional opera singer. He’s still teaching and singing, using the same principles and techniques with his current students that he used for the girls of Destiny’s Child. 

He did mentor all of them...not just Beyoncé.

David told me that he got his wish to galvanize music through Beyoncé. He wrote in his book that he would do it all over again. But he didn’t stop in 2000 when his time with Destiny’s Child came to an end. 

For the last two decades, he’s been wowing audiences with leading opera roles and training singers of all genres...including the former members of Destiny’s Child who got kicked out. 

They scored a big record deal and could’ve given Destiny’s Child a run for their money, but a recurring theme in David’s story - trauma - got in their way.

A powerful woe that destroys careers

Trauma is where healing begins for the singer who wants to become a complete, 360-degree artist. David is able to guide a singer to a place of peace and healing because of his childhood, which had both abuse and healing. 

He told me that his mother, in her work as a therapist, “would walk into crack houses and get her clients out and they would sleep on our couch and she fed them...I got to see the opposite side of all that brutality and that influenced me tremendously.” 

David emphasized that his singing students “must be healed.” That involves going back to the point of trauma, which is all based on perception. You can’t tell someone they haven’t been traumatized if they feel traumatized, he said.

He doesn’t discriminate much between types of trauma, saying clearly that all “trauma is trauma.” He told me that his job is to identify what it is. When it comes to his work, the trauma shows up in the singer’s body to sabotage performances. 

“The very first thing I do is I work with their breath...with regulated breath you can stay calm.” One of his greatest feats in his Destiny’s Child era was slaying the demons of Kelly Rowland. 

Kelly was surrounded by people, particularly her mother, who tore at her confidence and self-esteem. David told me that he had to come in and take control of her breath, mind, body and spirit to free her from her fear. 

He finds it necessary to take control back from a singer’s abusers (and the singer’s own thoughts) and then teach the singer how to be in control of themselves.

It is easy to fall off of David’s path and lose control again. You would think that the former members of Destiny’s Child, LaTavia and LeToya, who had endured enough abuse already, would have listened more to David. Instead, they destroyed the opportunity to compete with Destiny’s Child as part of another girl group. 

“I took the two girls that got kicked out of Destiny’s Child and I formed another group. I got them a $1 million deal with BMG. Did you know that they did not take that $1 million deal because the boyfriend, who was the producer, didn’t like me? 

And he convinced my student that I was manipulating her...so many people’s reputations were on the line and she said no, because the man she was with, sabotaged her. And then we come to find out that he had been paid to sabotage her.”

Here is proof that, no matter how far you’ve come, you can still allow your trauma to ruin your career in an instant. David told me that an artist’s relationships can get the artist dropped from a label. 

“It almost always deals with a spouse or a parent. In our business, it’s called ‘personal network.’” 

David said that he will not take on students who have drama in their personal network. 

“Reputation is everything.”

Beyond Beyoncé

David has lived in Berlin since the beginning of the new millennium. Living his dream life as a touring opera singer, he’s also continued to train many world-class, international artists. 

David has put his methods online and now anyone can access training from him. Singers can go through his online program at sing4me.org.

David has done something that few singers and teachers carve out time to do. David has codified his methods...the same ones he taught to one of the world’s most influential artists of all-time. 

This is available through sing4me.org. 

He’s also written a singer’s survival guide with his book, Beyoncé: Raising Genius. David goes very deep into the specifics of psychological and anatomical voice principles in the book. 

He even breaks down every aspect of the famous summer training camps he ran with Destiny’s Child...which Mathew Knowles took credit for. 

You may not be able to afford his hourly $350 fee for the full David Lee Brewer experience...but if you’re truly motivated, you can dissect his book and affordable online training program.

Even for the casual, non-singing Destiny’s Child fan, the book is a fascinating read.

If I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s that only a motivated person can reach anything near this kind of success. 

A motivated person must be plugged into the proper system with someone such as David, who knows exactly what works. 

There is one thing I’m sure of after speaking with David and reading his book...without David Lee Brewer, the Beyoncé we all know and love would not exist in her current form. 

Would she have found fame? 

It’s quite possible. 

Her potential and work ethic were impeccable. 

Additionally, her parents had no limits to their tenacity and manipulation. Their primary motivation was money. 

David has never been concerned with money. He is concerned with success...healthy success. That’s what his training with his students is always about. 

I come away from my David Lee Brewer experience feeling like I was at the burning bush and given the 10 commandments to success. 

My hope is that one day David gets the full credit he deserves for molding the artistry of one of the biggest acts of all-time. 

If not, he appears content to have said his part through Beyoncé: Raising Genius. The results of his students and his own success continue to speak for him. 

David’s career as a singer and teacher is, in part, a testament to the sense of public responsibility instilled in him as a kid. 

He watched his grandmother put the first Salvation Army Tree of Lights in Omaha. 

“There’s a tree on 24th St in Omaha, a big Christmas tree, and my grandma was responsible for that. I grew up understanding social responsibility. My mother was a family therapist. I grew up understanding that you’re not on the planet by yourself and that every day was an opportunity to make someone’s life better... I refuse to give up gratitude. Every day I try to make a difference in someone’s life...I can’t even begin to describe what I get back in return.”

This article first appeared on The Vocal Switch blog.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON HEAVEN’S MAIN DANCE RYU EUNBI...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Evie CURRENT AGE:  26 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: Fashion design

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): lemonie (due to her alleged lemon obsession), eve (due to the close proximity of her stage and group name with religious themes), peitho (in english, name of the goddess that personified persuasion and seduction, much like herown image). INSPIRATION: claims to be inspired by company seniors, as well as her parents’ work ethic. SPECIAL TALENTS:

speed dancing: has good choreographic memory, can accurately perform a variety of routines in different styles and at increased levels of speed.

physical flexibility: resulting from dedicated practice (especially in acro dance), she likes to impress with gymnastic manoeuvres such as front/side splits, and backbends.

NOTABLE FACTS:

has a reported IQ of 145

sang in a youth choir at a local church before joining 99 entertainment

has an eye for fashion, designed much of her own streetwear during heaven’s debut era

avid lemonade lover; fans often bring her lemonade beverages and lemon-themed accessories.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

within the next six to twelve months, while continuing to solidify her place in the fashion industry through various program and brand appearances, eunbi would like to focus on branding herself as a serious and well-seasoned dancer, despite being from a group whose choreography routines aren’t the most complex. if possible, and in attempt to generate additional buzz, she’d like to assist with heaven’s choreography, revert the public’s attention from the fact that her solo did poorly. she’s especially interested in having people see multiple sides of her through dance, rather than just 99′s fabricated version of her. in this way, not only would she continue to hone her dancing skills, but she’d effectively prove that such capabilities make her something more than just the member of heaven who flopped.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

in the long run, eunbi wishes to revel in levels of fame only graced by some of the legendary seniors before her. despite previous setbacks, she still wishes to have a successful solo career somehow, and avoid being forgotten during the eventual fall of third generation girl groups. however, bearing in mind the reality of the situation, eunbi also hopes to achieve a prominent position in the fashion world. well into the future, she’d like to manage her own multi-national luxury fashion conglomerate and have it see success in both domestic and international territory. the ability to showcase and model her own designs would be ideal, as to not resort to faceless background work. in addition, due to eunbi’s unwavering passion for dance, she’d like to continue honing and utilizing her skills. this could potentially be as a choreographer for the company, but as with other aspects of her career, eunbi wishes for her work to be highly publicized. she enjoys recognition.

IDOL IMAGE

following heaven’s formation, eunbi was presented to the public as the rosy-cheeked babe of heaven, the timid girl next door. evie, they’d called her. and evie was a riveting combination, a sultry mix of soft and sexy, and a poster girl when it came to tried-and-true summer styles. as a result, 99 marketed her in a manner meant to be appealing, but never to the extremes. she was to be balanced instead– innocence and cuteness, desire and allure.

as the years progressed and evie blossomed further into womanhood, however, she became the owner of a figure well-praised. her long legs and slender frame steadily rose to attention on forums, and netizens commented over again and again about the silhouette of her curves beneath loose clothing, her suggestive acts and how she was teasingly aware of them.

with more exposure and attention came more confidence and pride, more insight towards the power of her sexuality. evie eventually developed a tempting gaze,  a perpetual desire to test the waters and perform brazen movements for the stage. she made it a point to leave people wanting more, more, more. she was the girl next door, after all, forever and always ideal and desirable. but older now. wiser, too. more sure of herself. she’d transformed into the summer IT girl, a coquettish beach doll that could fascinate a room with even the most banal of activities. 

the general public loved to ogle at evie, loved to watch as she took a sip of water or climbed immaculately out of a pool. something about her was classically beautiful, captivating.

and she was theirs for the viewing, entirely; their sensual and soft toy; their gratifying object, available for consumption at the press of the button. she belonged to them, and for the sake of her career, eunbi adhered to the position. she yielded without complaint to the image her company had crafted for her, surrendered bits and pieces of herself until she was nothing but a shell of her former self.

the new version of her was perfect and polished, eyes dull, but spirit keen. she worked like a robot, making each decision through a strictly calculative mindset. she was always thinking, planning, plotting. life was about maintaining connections, to her. seeking opportunities.

if i move like this, will it encourage views? if i smile a little wider, would merch sales improve? if i was honest about my thoughts, how would people react?

as far as eunbi knew, there were always systematically correct choices to make, always the smartest decisions to propel her forward in the industry.

she’d thought it to be a curse, disguised as a blessing, but 99 continued to eat it up anyway. they regarded her ambition, her desirability, as something to generate profit from. and though she sometimes hated it, she allowed it, because the truth was like this: somewhere within the mental chaos and the management of her porcelain perfection, she’d achieved something.

she’d mastered the art of being ryu eunbi, and she held onto that dearly.

IDOL HISTORY

from a young age, her parents had demonstrated their strong drives, their unwavering ability to work hard. she watched, day by day, as they lost themselves to untouchable dreams, she listened and learned as they prioritized work over family. and it was okay, then. “you work so hard!,” friends and family would comment to her mother. strong work ethic, everyone thought. their behavior was inspiring, they were chasing their dreams. and perhaps that really was the case. her parents had been passionate about their respective careers, and through frequent absences, they’d instilled their daughter with the same excessive values. by five, she already knew work to be the number one focus in her life. her mother kept busy as a neurosurgeon, her father slept nights in his recording studio. as a result, eunbi was usually tossed off to the hands of a church, their choir program becoming an integral part of her after-school routine.

✦✦✦

eunbi was fourteen when her parents announced their divorce.

her response came in the form of a wayward tongue, bouts of rebellious behavior with a cold glare to match. though she insisted that she didn’t care, that she’d seen it coming, the school counselor suggested otherwise. “it’s not uncommon for children to display behavioral issues after divorce,” he’d said in a meeting with her mother once. her father, as usual, hadn’t been able to make it. he’d made up some lie, concocted a story about the recording studio and an unfinished track. as it’d been revealed later, however, in the later years, it wasn’t music that so often distracted him from the family he had at home. his interest gradually faded with the dawning realization that his career could never be helped, and instead, he sought comfort in other places. other women, other homes, as if the original hadn’t been sufficient enough for him. and eunbi’s backwards response to the truth of it left her mother with no choice but to give her an ultimatum.

focus on her studies (read: keep out of trouble), or face being exiled to a school abroad.

exasperated, but never allowing anger to cloud her logic, eunbi easily chose the former. in a questionable amount of time, she’d left behind the underage parties and drinking, switched it out for after-school study rooms and dance studios instead. when her head wasn’t dipped far into a book, brain crammed with formulas and facts, eunbi would dance; it’d become her way to distress, and she was a natural, indeed; her body a mere instrument in its ability to project movement so clearly and efficiently.

after a year of discovering her new hobby, it’d been announced through fliers on walls that 99 entertainment was in search of new trainees. more than fear of missing out, eunbi’s desire to participate was born out of a love, a thirst, for competition. of course, she enjoyed the idea of celebrity life too, the riches and fame and attention and gifts. but competition, it motivated her even more, always fueling her drive to be the best. and when the time arrived, when rumors of an upcoming girl group began swirling around company buildings, eunbi knew she needed to prove herself. she knew just how to do it, too; set herself apart from the remaining group of aspirants; excel in the areas that they simply could not. for her? that was dance. she focused consistently on perfecting her technique, working herself to exhaustion, day and night, on far too frequent of a basis. but it all paid off in the long run, those arduous routines, immoderate perseverance.

upper officials thought her to be a perfect addition to the group they had envisioned, and just like that, she was added to the lineup of their new girlgroup: HEAVEN.

✦✦✦

when heaven made their official debut in 2010, eunbi was far too young then to know better. eighteen, naive as possible, idol life never seemed like something that could constitute as a problem. instead all she saw was the cameras, the flashing lights, the television screens that were responsible for the pretentious display of her group. and it’d been fascinating, initially. distracting, a breath of fresh air from her toxic home life, her mother’s growing alcohol habit. it was a rush to film the music videos, a rush to perform on stages and be pampered with the likes of stylists or makeup artists. as time went on though, eunbi’s happiness slowly diminished. she grew unhappy with heaven as a group, the image 99 had curated for them. she’d never been a fan in the first place, but now she was tired, disturbed even, by the recycled concepts and corny songs that failed to represent her. she wanted more, felt desire burning in the pit of her stomach, this need to demonstrate that she was more than just a background member in the group. she had the potential to be a grand soloist; the ambitious drive and creative mind; the sharp singing skills, even sharper dancing skills.

when the company allowed her to try her hand at solo music, eunbi thought, genuinely, that it would all work out in her favor. she’d taken advice from company executives, went with what they considered “safely sexy” but public friendly. it didn’t matter that, as usual, the sound and style didn’t align with her personal tastes. she cared about having the song be well-received, having a catchy hit to blow up the airwaves. what she’d gotten though, turned out to be quite the opposite. 99 had failed in its venture to properly promote her, and the public had been no better either, failing her as well when they refused to react the way she had hoped for. rather than praising or hyping her up, the song became the subject of minor controversy, with many people criticizing it for its provocative choreography and “cheap, lazy” feel. in turn, it suffered from mediocre sales and lowly-placed positions on music charts.

evie the soloist simply wasn’t profitable enough.

✦✦✦

there were many intolerable aspects about working as an entertainer; taxing work schedules, outré speculation. the strict image constraints and lackluster concepts that’d been played out one, two, three times too many. despite everything though, heaven remained at the center of eunbi’s universe, forever and always her treasure. the fact that her solo career hadn’t worked out only solidified the idea – she was nothing without the group, nothing if she couldn’t stand tall and proud as heaven’s evie. since the release of the debut track, and all of its glorious aftermath, longevity became one of her main goals and continues to be so in present day. aside from personal endeavors in both fashion and dance, eunbi found it necessary to maintain the group’s relevancy, often working with her parent’s zeal to ensure their good standing. she feared the impending waves of new groups, the threat they posed to her position, to her group’s. and it was true, perhaps, that she needed to let go. heaven was going to disband eventually, she couldn’t cling onto them forever. but she wasn’t ready yet. heaven had become too big of a thing in her life, the life vest that’d kept her from drowning. until she successfully found an alternative, a path as equally as fulfilling, she refused to stop.