#yeah I’m using a event to introduce a new OC. what of it!! I’ve done it once I’ll do it again AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases FINALE Pt 1

Originally posted by sefuns

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

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) (also on AFF)

networks — @supermwritersnet​ @/bbh-net

pairing — Baekhyun x Riley (OC)

word count — 28k+ (Finale part 1 - [19k] & 2 - [9k])

genre  — ceo! baekhyun, playboy! baekhyun, strangers to lovers, hurt & comfort (heaven knows they need that comfort), slow burn! kinda

[ contains: angst, fluff, smut ]

A/N: Buckle up, loves. Here comes a long one. ♡ Let’s go! (^-^)

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⏰🌹Six Phases Tag List: 🌹⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @insta1010 @sorrowinblood @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome​

I was unable to tag one of you so I’ll DM you from @candyfizzbyun 💗💗💗

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July is upon us before we know it, bringing forth more of the summer's blazing sunlight and smothering heat. Jenny's birthday is right around the corner, merely 3 days into the hottest month of the year. There's no wonder why she's throwing a party in a venue that has both a beautiful indoors and outdoors setting. The breezy summer-style dress code for the event is a given—and I plan to crash it with my wintry flare.

It's July 3rd, 90 degrees, and I'm strutting down the stone path leading up to the venue in a two piece velvet outfit. The wine color compliments my skin, hugging my body in all the right places. Between the bra-shaped, crop top that ties in the back and my waist-high pants with high slits to reveal my nude colored heels underneath, I feel like the baddest and sexiest woman up in this bitch.

"Riley!" Jenny beams the moment I step through the door, looking stunning in her light blue dress. It's a plain form-fitting dress, but nothing is simple about her wearing it. The light blue material goes well with the ocean hue of her eyes. The sleeveless, spaghetti-strapped fabric that wraps around her beautifully is the shortest dress I've ever seen on her—and Jongdae should feel like the luckiest man alive to see her like this all the time.

Her makeup is done perfectly, highlighting the softness of her round face and sharpening the gaze in her oval eyes. She nearly runs someone over when she comes barreling my way in her black heels with a drink in her hand.

I laugh at her excitement, accepting her hug without hesitation. "Hey, Jen."

"Hey," She smiles, pulling back a little to look at me. "You're early."

A little grin forms on my face; if only she knew. "I didn't want to risk any traffic jams," I explain, smiling more. She's practically buzzing with happiness.

"Ah," She nods, pursing her lips. "Maybe I should have chose a different time-"

"Hey," I place my hand on her shoulder, giving her a look. "Relax. Everything will be fine."

She sighs but nods, her owl-shaped, dangling-earrings sparkling prettily under the warm lights. "I hope no one else gets stuck."

"They won't," I shake my head, adding cheekily, "Especially Chanyeol, he drives like a madman."

"That big oaf," She mutters, a smile back on her face. Her blue eyes meet mine before she takes my hands between hers. "Come, I want to introduce you to someone."

"Oh?" I inquire, raising a brow as she leads me further into the venue. "This isn't one of those matchmaking situations is it?"

"No. Fuck men." She immediately rebukes, fire burning in her eyes. "I'm not dealing with anyone's bullshit. Not on my day."

"Damn straight," I mumble, amused at the disgruntled expression on her face. Jenny and Jongdae are back together—if you can call their last fight a breakup. Witnessing him show up on their doorstep with her favorite chocolate and a new plant to add to their home was a sight to see. He must have done something else for her to react this way though. I can't help but chuckle. Half a year later and he is still tiptoeing around her. That Haneul must be someone significant. My lips downturn at the thought.

"Eunjung! Eunjung!" Jenny's loud voice brings me back to the present. "Ugh, where is that woman?" She grumbles, searching the extravagant room. More partygoers are starting to stream in, filling up the building with every shade of the rainbow and then some. My eyes drift over to the fruit buffet on the long tables in the back when Jenny's eyes widen. "There she is!" She smiles, leading me over to the mini bar on the other side of the room.

I follow her line of sight, my heart dropping in the blink of an eye. It's the same woman I've been seeing around Baekhyun since May. Her once long black hair is now a short brown mohawk, the curly ends perfectly framing her oval shaped face.

"Eunjung, this is Riley." Jenny smiles, gesturing to me. "The wild child I've told you about," She jokes.

"Hello," Eunjung greets in a low voice, smiling warmly. She holds out her hand to me. "I've heard so much about you."

I can only shake her hand and smile back, glaring at Jenny out of the corner of my eye when Eunjung is distracted by the bartender bringing her a drink. "Nice to meet you."

Jenny takes a seat while I survey the room, making sure there aren't any heads of silver hair around. Jongin won't be coming tonight, he's busy preparing dance classes for the elementary students that he'll teach for the upcoming school year, so I keep my head on a swivel. As much as I consider Jenny one of my best friends, her ties with a certain someone cannot be ignored after what happened the last time we went to a party. 

"How's Miss Eunae?" Jenny's question catches my attention, pulling me back into their conversation.

"She won second place in a dance competition last month." 

"Really?!" Jenny gasps and I stiffen.

"Yeah, I couldn't make it." Eunjung smiles sadly, swirling the melting ice in her drink. "Thankfully her girlfriend could. And Baekhyun too."

"Wait," I interrupt, feeling wary when both their eyes focus on me. "You have a twin?"

"Yes. About my height, long black hair." Eunjung sets down her empty glass on the counter. "You might have seen her around before, that woman can't sit still to save her life."

"She has a girlfriend?"

Eunjung and Jenny share a brief, knowing glance before turning back to me. "Yes." Eunjung smiles.

I clear my throat, avoiding their dancing eyes. "Good for her."

"They've been together since high school." Jenny nudges me, a shit eating grin on her face.

"I'll be surprised if they marry before you and Jongdae though," Eunjung raises her hand to get the bartender's attention again. "Chaeyoung is always working overseas."

My chest vibrates. I pull my phone out of my secret breast pocket, tuning out the rest of their conversation.

*

Sat, 07/03 - 7:30pm

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Y'all ready?

//

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Ready as I'll ever be!

//

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Kyungsoo?

//

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

You owe me for this shit

//

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

I promise to help you bake in his place

\\

…

\\

As long as Dae and Yeol pick up the groceries :')

\\

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

Chanyeol delivers and Jongdae unpacks

//

I don't trust his clumsy ass anywhere near my produce

//

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

\\

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

😂

//

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Hey!

//

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

Ready guys?

\\

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

Yes

//

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Yeah

//

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Mmhm >:(

//

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

Let's go 🤫🎂🚚💨✨🥰

\\

*

I can't help but chuckle, pocketing my phone. When I look up, Jenny is the only one sitting at the counter. "Hey," I frown, noticing the sad look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," She mumbles.

"Come on," I rest my hand on her arm, trying to catch her eye. "I can't let the birthday girl mope. You can tell me."

A smile quirks at her lips. "I just…" She sighs, turning to me. "I can't believe Jongdae is busy with work today."

"Awe," mimicking her poked out bottom lip, I nudge her softly. "Well, I guess you're just stuck with me—Deal with it."

"Riley!"

I burst out into laughter, back hugging her when she playfully pushes me away. "Hey, don't lose hope, yeah? He might surprise you."

"No he won't," She mumbles, full on pouting now. "He never surprises me."

"Well," Making eye contact with a certain mischievous brunette on the other side of the room, I tap her shoulder. "Maybe that will change today."

Jenny turns her head and gasps, leaping off of her bar stool. "Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Jongdae?!?!?!?!"

Everyone in the room watches on with smiles on their faces, but Jongdae's is the brightest of all. "Hey, babe," He beams, opening his arms.

Jenny sprints over to him, colliding so hard with his body that she almost sends them both to the floor. But Jongdae takes it all in stride, holding her close while bellowing that signature laugh of his.

Smiling at them, I quickly walk over to help Kyungsoo and Chanyeol roll in the food cart. "Hey guys, everything okay?"

"We made it all in one piece," Kyungsoo mutters, glancing at the tall dome plate cover. "The cake too."

"Three different chocolates?"

"Mmhm."

"Perfectly symmetrical?"

"Yep," Yeol chimes in.

I grin, "She's going to love it."

"She's going to love you, you mean." Chanyeol sets his shining eyes on me. "How did you even know all this?"

I give him a small, secretive smile, "I have my resources." His grin only widens. "Did the gifts come in today?"

Kyungsoo nods, "Right on time."

"The delivery man showed up just as we were packing the cake into the back of the truck," Chanyeol chuckles, nearly tripping over the edge of a carpet. Kyungsoo and I look at him with our respective wide and narrowed eyes.

"Huh," I purse my lips, nodding in approval. "Now that is some high class two-day shipping." They both hum in agreement, Kyungsoo straightening out the table cloth before they begin to set the cake onto the round table.

"You guys good?" I look between them when they succeed in placing it down. Thank god for that; if that cake falls to the floor that's all our necks.

Kyungsoo nods, "Go on." He gives me a look that's hard to identify. "He's coming too."

"Oh," My heart leaps at the thought. Oh. Shit. He's coming. I should have expected as much, but to actually hear it makes it ten times more real... Shit. "I-Imma just…" I point behind me to the backdoor, slowly walking backward. "You know."

They nod, Chanyeol's eyes holding a hint of sadness. "It's okay. We got everything covered."

"Thank you," I breathe, smiling apologetically. Spinning on my heel, I hurry as fast as my high heels allow to the door. With one last glance back to make sure Jenny is okay, I slip out into the summer night.

Music from within the venue spreads out into the backyard, but it's much quieter out here. I survey the area, making sure no one else is around. Not that I am against anyone being outside, I've just had enough social interaction for one evening… and the night has barely begun.

Sighing to myself, I walk further out onto the patio, my lips quirking up at the light blue cushions on the chairs. Jenny planned this event to the Tee, huh? I chuckle, sighing softly.

The deck is a nice light gray shade, contrasting against the black base of the table and lounge chairs. Running my eyes over them, I hum, choosing to lean against the table instead.

Pain buds in my chest when my thoughts wander. I shouldn't care—I really shouldn't but… Even after everything. Even after all this time, it hurts to think of him with anyone else. The thought of him holding someone in his arms, in his home, in his heart… It crushes me to the core. It eats me up on the inside. It keeps me up at night.

I shouldn't care, yet every time I hear his name, every time I see his face... I go back to that January night, and I regret it every single time.

No matter how hard I try, my head is constantly full of 'what ifs.' What if I stayed? What if he was willing to change? What would we be right now if I hadn't walked away? 

I love—I loved Baekhyun with all my heart…

Can I really move on from this? Will I ever wake up one day and not imagine his sleeping face next to mine?

He could still have someone already for all I know, but for tonight… I rather tell myself that he is alone.

Leaning my elbows on the patio table, I watch the sunset, admiring the pink and orange hues streaking across the blue sky.

"You're staring."

"I love admiring art."

"So I'm an object now?"

The unmistakable love in his sparkly brown eyes… "You are the source," He pauses, holding my heart in his warm smile, "Of my love and affection."

My heart squeezes in earnest. God… why does this hurt so much? Why do his words linger in my mind and actions take hold of my heart? When will it end? When will it fucking end—

"Miss?" A low, raspy voice startles me.

I spin around, staring at the culprit with narrowed eyes. They widen as I take in the man in front of me.

The first thing I notice is his sharp jawline, leading up to his thin lips that curl up at the ends, reminding me a little of Jongdae. My eyes trail up further, taking in his tall nose with a rounded tip, his prominent cheekbones and narrow eyebrows. His slicked back, brown hair shows his broad forehead, and then—

His eyes…

They are the darkest shade of brown that I've ever seen, their almond shape perfectly suiting the rest of his face. They appear black in the dim light of the setting sun. Looking into them has me feeling many things, wondering what story those dark pools of molten hot coffee hold. 

"Are you alright?" He asks, his low voice in a husky tone that I'm slowly getting used to hearing… until I feel the drop that lands on my cheek.

"Oh—yeah!" I inwardly curse, hastily rubbing the tear from my cheek. "I-It's just, you know... allergies."

He nods and I cringe on the inside because I know he can tell that I'm completely bullshitting him right now. "What are you doing out here?" He inquires, tilting his head. His tone of voice isn't judging or hostile, it's more… caring. And sweet. I wish I could read his eyes though...

"Needed a breather," I shrug, repositioning myself in a more attractive manner. I am not about to let some stranger see me hanging out back here like a socially awkward potato on top of everything else—I refuse. "You?"

"Business call," He murmurs distractedly, repocketing his vibrating phone.

"Oh," I inwardly roll my eyes. Right. As if I don't have enough business men in my life.

"The Tech team found a corrupted file," He sighs, checking his expensive gold watch. "They don't know how bad it is yet… The film might have to be delayed."

Film? I perk up at that. "You help film movies?"

He smiles, glancing up at me, a lock of hair falling over his eye. "I'm the director."

A very casual one at that; I note, taking in his outfit. He's decked out in a light blue denim jacket and a white t-shirt, but I know those aren't cheap. Nope, I've seen enough of Baekhyun's cotton shirts to—

"What's the theme?" I blurt out, curling my hand into a fist as I lean further back on the table. "Classified information?" I raise a brow, smirking at his speechless face.

"Aish…" He closes his mouth, smiling a little. "Something like that."

"Eh," I shrug, smiling softly. "I can respect that."

The temperature suddenly starts to drop. A chilly wind blows, ruffling the ends of his hair. The scent of something I haven't encountered before reaches my nose. Bourbon and vanilla; citrus and peach... It's hard to describe, but it creates an aroma that catches my attention.

"What's your name?" I tilt my head, my eyes widening at the sparkle that reflects in his dark eyes from the last rays of the setting sun.

His eyes widen before he points to himself. "Me?"

"Who else, silly?" I laugh, holding back a snort, a smile tugging at my lips at the sheepish look on his face. He's pretty cute, I'll give him that.

He clears his throat, looking away. "Jackson."

I fight back my smile seeing how flustered he is. "I'm Riley." A thought occurs to me for a moment… What is a business man—director doing here? This is an invitation-only event, and I helped Jenny painstakingly arrange the guest list... "How do you know Jenny?"

"Hmm?" Jackson blinks, flickering his eyes back to mine. "Oh!" He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's an old friend."

"Oh," My eyes narrow in the last rays of sunlight.

"We kept in contact after her and Yugyeom split," He explains, and the apologetic expression on his face has my eyes widening again. Did he just see through me? Uh—Wait.

"Oh my god, Yugyeom?—Kim Yugyeom?"

"Yes…" He trails off, looking me over carefully. "Do you know him?"

Do I know him? My reddening cheeks are enough of an explanation. "Not really," I laugh awkwardly, standing up fully. Alright, I've had enough human interaction for today. Between him, the discovery of Eunjung's twin not seeing Baekhyun, meeting someone who is friends with that tall guy I was drooling over months ago, and having to keep Jenny's birthday surprise a secret all week, I'm drained. Time to go—

A crack of thunder echoes across the sky, and then the bottom drops, rain drenching us in seconds.

Well shit… Did none of us check the weather for today? I rack my brain for answers, trying to remember—oh... Oh. Jenny… likes… thunderstorms…

The rain continues to pour, soaking my velvet outfit and flattening my hair without remorse. It won't melt me, but the venue is a city away from Seoul and if I don't hurry home now...

"Well!" I turn away to hide the bitter smile on my face, pushing off of the slippery table. "Time for me to go. Nice meeting you, Jackson."

"Wait-"

I puff up my cheeks, blowing the air out as my hair sticks messily to my forehead. Fighting the urge to brush it back is difficult, but if there's one thing I know about my hair when it's wet, it's the agony that comes with ruffling it up. I rather not cry while detangling it when it's air dried later—

A yank on my arm makes me yelp, my head slamming into something hard when thunder cracks across the sky again, followed by the horrifying crackle of lightning. My head snaps up, eyes squinting against the onslaught of rain. I can barely make out Jackson's face, his features twisted in concern with his hair mattered to his forehead like a mop. The sheer amount of fear in his wide eyes has me more than confused. I take a look around, my heart stopping right in its tracks.

The doorknob of the back door sizzles, steam floating from it in a cloud of smoke. The crack from a lightning bolt visible as the rain washes the spark away.

My face pales when I look back up at the man in front of me.

Jackson steps back, steading me with his hands on my arms when my knees buckle. "Sorry," He clears his throat. "I tried to warn you but-"

"Thank you," I mumble, moving away when I find my balance again. "That could have been…" My head spins at the thought, "Bad."

He nods with a concerned frown, worry written all over his handsome features.

"...Well!" I clear my throat, giving him a small smile. "Thanks again for saving me, stranger." I joke, my eyes shooting down when I feel something rough shielding my shoulders from the rain. "Oh-" They snap back up to meet his, "You don't have to-"

"Keep it." He shakes his head, placing his denim jacket fully on my shoulders. "You're shivering."

"I…" My face is so hot the rain does nothing to cool me down. "Thank you."

Jackson smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. "No problem." He starts walking backwards, glancing up at the sky before propping open the back door with his leather boot.

"Wait!" I blurt, blushing all the way up to my ears when he looks back at me, having to raise my voice over the unmerciful wind. "H-How will I return it without your number?"

A shy yet boyish grin forms on his face. "Not here."

"Huh?" I blink.

Jackson smiles even more, holding the door open before giving a little bow and outstretching his hand to me. "Ladies first."

A dozen thoughts race through my head while looking at his waiting hand, the action so familiar my heart tugs painfully in my chest. Smiling my prettiest smile, I place my palm in his.

•••

I forgot how refreshing it is to talk to someone new. Stepping out of my comfort zone to get to know a person outside of my friend group—an attractive person at that.

Texting Jackson is a treat. He's a man of high intellect, giving me great advice with years of director experience under his belt. The most shocking thing is that he is only 24—24! Two years older than me. He breaks my dating rule of pursuing anyone less than 4 years older than me, but his maturity makes up for it. Age doesn't define maturity as I have come to realize after a certain someone.

He's super sweet too. We haven't been able to see each other in person since Jenny's party last month, but a day hasn't gone by where we haven't texted. And boy does he text—the most flustering things that is. Jackson has a way with words that makes my heart squeeze in giddiness and me hide behind my hand while peeking at my screen.

He laughs at all of my jokes; he sends good morning and goodnight texts without fail. If nothing else, he is a great conversationalist who would make an even better companion, and I can't wait to see him again. I have a denim jacket hanging up in my closet to return, after all.

A knock on my office door brings me back to the present. I blink a few times, carefully reading over the email I've been working on for the past 20 minutes. "Come in," I permit, glancing at the time. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door when it opens stops my typing in its tracks.

Ms. Kim Eun, the newly appointed book editor, steps into the room, setting off my internal warning signals. Her outfit matches the company dress code, that isn't the problem here. No, it's the sheer amount of dread, sorrow, and fear coming off of her shuffling body in waves. "You asked to see me, Ma'am?" She inquires in the most broken of tones. A fragility I know very well.

"Yes." Saving my progress on the computer, I beckon her over with a reassuring smile. "Please, have a seat."

She slowly walks further into the room, sitting down in one of the leather chairs.

"Ms. Kim," I start as tentatively and professionally as possible, lacing my fingers together on top of my desk. "It has come to my attention that you have been behind on editing the book."

"Oh..." She mumbles, fidgeting with the purse in her lap. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

"I understand you might have other obligations and factors outside of work," I continue, reading her steadily panicking face like a book, "But we don't have a lot of time to get this novel done. We're on a tight schedule here."

"C-Can…" Her eyes lift from the purse in her hands, still holding onto it for dear life. "Can you do it for me?" She whispers.

I let out a short laugh. "No." Her eyes shake as my face hardens. "You were appointed as editor 3 weeks ago, correct?"

She nods, fear glimmering in her wide eyes.

"Your job is to edit the book," I remind her, my lips pressed into a thin line. "That's what you get paid for, that's your responsibility."

"But-"

"If I could do it myself, I wouldn't need to hire you." Her bottom lip starts to tremble; she's about to break. "If you can't do the job, I'm going to need you to put in your 2 weeks," I slide the slip of paper across the desk, "In early. Unless you can get half of the book done by Friday."

"T-That's only 3 days," She gasps, her voice wavering. "I can't-"

"You've had nearly a month in advance to work on it as an Intern." My voice lowers, "I'm sure you have plenty of time to catch up in-"

"I can't!" She wails loudly, hiding her face in her hands. "I-I'm not qualified for this position. I'm just a high school graduate with inside connections." She sobs, the dam of her built up emotions spilling over. "I didn't even finish English 12 with an A."

My clenched jaw ticks. I know she isn't faking it; she's been off for the past two weeks. It's her lack of sharing this important information that is getting to me. If she isn't qualified to take over the editing position, why the hell is she—my eyes widen and then narrow. Mrs. Park.

Looking at Eun, I finally understand. Her bowed head, slouched shoulders, and quiet hiccups dawning on me as clear as day.

"My boyfriend c-cheated on me with my best friend." She croaks sorrowfully. "He said that I deserved it, t-that I made him do it from working late all the time." She runs a hand through her hair, laughing brokenly, her tears leaving a trail of inky black mascara in their wake. "My editing isn't good anyway."

Reaching across the desk, I offer her my box of tissues. "I know how you feel," I mutter, keeping my voice even. "You feel lost, broken and tossed aside as if a part of you is gone." She nods, sniffling while smearing the makeup under her eye. "You ask yourself how you will ever move on from it." Leaving the box on the edge of the desk, I meet her eyes again. "But you will move on." The conversation I had with Jongin in the studio that day comes to mind, quirking a small smile on my lips. "You will wake up one day and not think of them. As long as you want to. You shouldn't stay stuck on someone who has hurt you." 

Tucking the resignation document into a drawer, I turn my sleeping computer back on. "You are worth more than how they've treated you, but you have to decide that for yourself."

"O-Okay," Eun sniffles, wiping her face. A couple tissues fall out of her hand, but her tears have stopped.

"Good." I lean back into my rollable leather chair with a stretch, smiling softly. "Let's settle this. Make me a list of your strengths and weaknesses."

Her wide eyes snap back up to mine. "I-"

"Now."

"Damn, Kyungsoo, how many of these cakes do you need in a day?" I sigh, my hands cramping up. We've been at it for hours, baking desserts at his restaurant because today is a national holiday. Funny how he let all his workers take the day off and here I am handling enough flour to make me sneeze in Jongdae's place.

Kyungsoo doesn't even look up at me, continuing to knead the dough in his hands. "I'd give an estimate but I don't want to overwhelm you."

I'd dramatically flop down into a chair if I wasn't molding a ball of my own dough, so I just groan instead. "You're killing me over here."

"Who offered to help me bake in Jongdae's place?" He raises a brow, shaping the churro in his hands with precession.

"It was all for the good of Jenny's last minute birthday cake!" I whine, starting to place a hand over my heart until I remember the torment I went through last time I got cake batter on this floral shirt. "Have you no heart?" I pout, giving him puppy eyes.

Kyungsoo slowly raises his head and I quickly get back to shaping the fancy doughnut in my hands without a word.

"So," I clear my throat, smiling sheepishly. "Did Dae and Yeol deliver everything okay?"

"They were late." Kyungsoo neatly arranges his perfectly shaped churros onto a tray, sliding them into the preheated oven. "Any later and the milk would have gone bad."

"Yikes," I wince, reaching to rub the back of my head only to pause mid-way, stopped by the wet flour sticking to my hand. "I should have helped more."

"Chanyeol would have slowed down to not give you motion sickness and then the cheese would have gone bad too." He points out.

"You sound a bit grumpy today," I note softly, glancing over at him again. "Did Chanyeol do something?" Kyungsoo starts another row of churros, staring blankly at me as he almost crushes the long sticks in his hands. "Okay, okay! I'll drop it, no need for the third degree. Spare the churro's life, please..."

"I'm going to ban him from my restaurant, I swear." He grumbles under his breath.

"At least he offered to help," I mumble, setting the last doughnut onto the non-stick pan. "How many more you got for me?" I ask, dusting off my hands.

Kyungsoo comes over to take the tray off of the counter. "None."

I raise a brow. "That's it?"

"No," He slides it in with the baking churros. "I'm sending you home."

I frown, "Why?"

"You're loud, chatty and keep dripping flour all over my floor." He deadpans. "And you're falling asleep."

Gawking at him for a few moments all I can do is huff. "I am not-"

"You're gonna get cake batter in your hair."

I flinch, putting my hand down at once. "Are you really kicking me out right now?" I mumble, blowing annoying strands of hair out of my eyes. 

"You're fired." He wipes his clean hands with a towel and walks back over to turn on the sink for me. "Now go home and sleep."

"I don't even work here!"

He gives me a look.

"Alright, alright," I mutter, scrubbing flour from under my nails. "Fine. I'll be out of your hair-"

The chime on the door of the restaurant rings, capturing my attention. I crane my neck around to see who the hell is coming in here when there's obviously a "CLOSED" sign out front and it's freaking 9pm. My face pales at the black baseball cap and leather jacket figure stumbling through the door. I tug on the sleeve of the busy man next to me. Um, Kyungsoo-

They pull their hat off before they reach the middle of the restaurant, revealing a familiar flushed face and unmistakable silver hair.

Oh fuck no.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Kyungsoo," He mumbles, his head down while approaching the counter. "I got held up at the office and the traffic was-" His head snaps up just as I contemplate ducking out of view. "R-Riley…?" He whispers, his face paling. He looks like he's seen a ghost and I can't imagine I'm doing any better.

"You're late." Kyungsoo deadpans, busying himself with washing the used baking trays and utensils in the sink.

"I…" Baekhyun steps closer and I feel like I'm going to throw up. My heart isn't in my throat at this point, it's somewhere lost between my nose and my gag reflex.

"Have you been drinking?" Kyungsoo finally looks up from the spatula in his hands, his eyes narrowing at the lack of response.

Baekhyun's red face glows brighter under the harsh kitchen lights. He purses his lips, "No-"

"Where's your car?" Kyungsoo demands. "I'm not letting you drive."

"Kyungsoo, I'm fine," He rolls back on the heels of his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "You have an important client coming in tomorrow-"

"I don't care who the hell is coming tomorrow." Kyungsoo cuts him off, full-on glaring at him now. His normally calm voice growing deeper with anger by the second. "I'm not letting you drive-"

"I'll take him home," I mumble, shrinking in on myself when both their eyes snap over to me.

Kyungsoo frowns, "Riley-"

"I'm taking him home, Kyungsoo." I cross my arms, shaking my head at the disapproving expression on his stern face. "You have a huge event tomorrow, you sent your staff home, and your kitchen is covered in cake batter," I list off of my fingers, daring him to say another word. "His apartment is on the whole other side of town. I think we both know what's the best course of action here."

Kyungsoo stands there silently for a long moment, but I don't back down, merely arching a brow. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" He softens, not even acknowledging the other man in the room.

"Yeah." I smile, uncrossing my arms. "I know I'm a disaster with a knife but I know how to drive, Kyungsoo. You got to give me some credit here."

"Alright," He chuckles, smiling a little before shifting his eyes back to the man on the other side of the counter. "Don't cause her any trouble, you hear me?"

Baekhyun's dazed eyes widen, "I-"

"If you mess with a single hair on her head," Kyungsoo continues, lifting the butcher knife in his hands. "Say goodbye to your kids."

"I-I won't fucking!" Baekhyun tangles a hand in his messy hair, sucking in a deep breath. "I'm walking home."

"Oh no you aren't," I rebuke, rounding the counter.

He grits his teeth, spinning around on his heel, "I'm-"

"Yah, Baekhyun." Kyungsoo's deep voice cuts through the air.

Baekhyun freezes up, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes. "Y-Yes?-"

"Take this." Kyungsoo starts, slamming a couple bags full of food to his chest. "Shut the fuck up and let Riley take you home."

"I-" Baekhyun shakes his head, "I can still catch the bus. There's no need-" His face drains of color when he meets Kyungsoo's eyes again. If looks could kill, he'd be 6 feet under.

Kyungsoo turns back to me then, "If he gives you a hard time, call me, okay?"

"Yes, Kyungsoo," I immediately agree, fearful of his sour mood as well. Note to self: angry Kyungsoo is scarier than angry Jongin.

"Good," He grumbles but smiles, patting my arm before walking back to the kitchen. "I'll save some of the churros for you."

"Thank you!" I beam at him, waving until he walks into the backroom. My smile doesn't fade, my cheeks starting to hurt until I feel a certain someone's stare on the back of my head. Oh shit.

Slowly turning around, I drag my eyes up to look into the most beautiful puppy eyes in the world, my heart going into overdrive.

"Hey," Baekhyun whispers.

A sad smile quirks on my lips, "Hi." Sighing a little, I take a look around, hanging up my apron and retrieving my hidden purse from the back of a chair at one of the extravagant dining tables. "Let's go."

Baekhyun nods, following me out of the restaurant. I open the door and hold it for him until he reaches the doorstep. We may not be on good terms, but that doesn't mean I'll just let a door slam in his face.

…

I most definitely should have let that door slam in his face.

Shaking off my aggressive thoughts, I take a deep breath and power walk to my car, shivering in the cold wind. It's the middle of July and a tropical storm has blown in, bringing its cold rains and chilling nights with it. Trust Seoul to have these extreme temperature changes, I should have kept my ass back in the South.

Baekhyun doesn't say a word as we make it to my red Porsche. I unlock the car when we are a few feet away, rolling my keys around my fingers. "Hop in, Byun."

He climbs into the passenger seat and by now the silence is killing me, but I shove it down. I'm here to drive him home and that's it. No more, no less.

Sighing inwardly, I settle into the driver's seat. "Buckle up," I mutter, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "You may be more likely to survive a car crash in your drunken stupor but I sure as hell am not getting a fine for your ass."

I swear I hear him mutter, "of course," under his breath.

"What was that?" I pointedly widen my eyes, looking directly at him.

"Nothing." He grumbles, keeping his eyes facing forward.

"I thought so," Making sure he's strapped securely and checking my rearview mirror, I stick the key into the ignition and pull out of the parking lot.

Driving to Baekhyun's apartment feels so surreal, for many reasons. Never in our relation—our previous relationship have I driven him anywhere. I never dared to get behind the wheel of his Audi, that car is too expensive. If I had wrecked it and looked at the cost to fix or replace it, combined with the look of pure rage that would be on his face from me crashing his baby, I would die. Bad blood or not, I rather not be on Baekhyun's bad side.

My heartbeat picks up the longer the car ride goes on. Fuck, it's getting harder to breathe. I literally have the biggest problem to ever walk into my life right next to me months after I swore to never speak to him again. Why did I agree to this? What was I thinking? 

No. No time for that, I'm going to drop him off at his apartment and continue moving on with my life. That's why I left him in the first place.

"...Riley?" He speaks up a few streets away from his house, his voice the softest I've heard in a while.

Nope. Don't engage. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

"Can… Can we talk?" He continues, sounding sadder by the minute. "Please?"

"We're ten minutes away, Baekhyun."

"I…" The bags rustle in his lap as he sighs. "I knew this would happen."

"What?" I glance sharply at him at the next red light.

Baekhyun looks down at his hands with the most pitiful expression on his face, tears building in the corners of his eyes under the bright city lights. "I knew you would hate me."

Oh my fucking—My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I want to roll my eyes and launch myself out of the car window at the same time. "Stop bringing it up, Byun." I mutter, focusing back on the road. "It's a thing of the past. Let it die there."

"Yeah," He laughs, his voice raw with emotion. "Like my heart the night you left me."

I clench my jaw, taking a deep breath, inwardly cursing the hectic late night traffic. Come on, fuckers, I need this man out of my car asap.

"You don't even want to talk to me about it." He continues, growing more frustrated and louder by the minute. "You don't even want to see me-"

"Of course I don't, Baekhyun!" I snap, whipping my head around to face him. "After all the shit you've done I have every right to not speak to your smug fucking face again."

"Smug?" He laughs weakly. "You think I enjoyed what happened to us?"

"Yep," I chirp, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn pale. "There's no other explanation for why you are in my car right now."

"You insisted for me to be here." He fires right back. "You break up with me, hang out with all my friends, then act like a cold hearted bitch every time you see me."

"It takes one to know one, Baekhyun." I jab right back, curling my upper lip in a cruel smile.

"Yeah," He scoffs, crossing his arms and facing the window. "I'm sure you know that very well."

"If you're going to be a whiny little bitch," I start, smiling widely at him, "I will put you out on your ass, Baekhyun."

"Wouldn't you love that," He laughs, anger coming off of him in waves. "You were always obsessed with my ass."

That's it.

Baekhyun yelps when I slam on the breaks, bracing his hands on the dashboard. "Riley, what the hell?!"

"You wanted to talk?" I make sure the curb of the street I pulled onto is clear before facing him with a grin. "Huh? You want to talk now?" Baekhyun shrinks further into the passenger seat when I lean over him. "Fucking say it to my face then, you bastard." I snarl. "Go on. Give your little practiced speech."

Baekhyun parts his lips a few times, making my rage raise even more—"I miss you." He mumbles sadly.

I blink, staring at him. "...What?" I chuckle, growing wary as he keeps giving me those kicked puppy dog eyes. "What the fuck are you on about, Baekhyun-"

"I miss you." He repeats. "I miss your voice, I miss your eyes, I miss waking up to your sleeping face next to mine." He takes a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes. "I miss your strawberry scent on our pillows. I miss your loving words. I miss you complaining about my random ramblings and shutting me up with a kiss… I miss everything about you." He drags his eyes back up to mine then. "I miss you so much I wake up every day and fall apart when I remember that you aren't there."

Sucking in a breath, I look away from him, my anger long forgotten. I… I don't know what to say. "You…" A lump forms in my throat. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to restrain my wobbling chin.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on me, pleading with me with their sad, brown depths. He doesn't expect the slap I land on his pretty face.

"You fucking bastard," I mutter lowly, shaking in anger, the last of my sanity flying out of the window. "You don't get to come in here and say all this fucking bullshit when you couldn't even tell your fucking mother that you were dating me!" I scream, my vocal chords pulling harder than my heart strings. "You were dating me, living with me, loving me, fucking me-" I laugh, throwing my hand out to show off the car. "For a whole year. Then you come here with your pretty, pitiful little empty words and expect me to forgive you? Really? You really think so little of me?"

"Ri-"

"Did you not get it the first time?" I ask in the sweetest of tones, my Southern accent out on full display. "Huh? You told your dear mother about us then suddenly come running back after me? Did having her approval feel that good little puppy?"

Baekhyun's face burns a dozen different shades of red, but I'm not fucking done yet.

"Here comes the man who was so overcome with jealousy over my best friend that he pretended to fuck another whore at his party," I list off on my fingers, my voice growing louder with every word I fire at him."Here goes the man who accused me of fucking Jongin because I wanted to be left alone at a mother fucking party. Here sits the man—who had the audacity to cheat on me not once, but twice!" My lips curl up into the ugliest sneer, glaring at Baekhyun hard enough to kill. "And here lies the cowardly man who will lie like a pig in mud for the rest of eternity as far as I am concerned."

I'm huffing and puffing by the time I'm done, not even waiting for him to say anything before starting back up again. "You know I never and would never have cheated on you, right?" I ask, lowering the volume of my voice. "If I didn't want to be faithful to you, Baekhyun, I would have been with someone else. I don't pull stunts to be petty and shit. If you didn't know that about me now, you're a fucking idiot, and if you don't believe me, then I don't know what to tell you." I shrug, leaning back tiredly into my seat and keeping my eyes forward on the empty road ahead.

"I get that," He says quietly.

A chuckle bubbles in my aching chest. "Do you?" I raise a brow, trying to calm down. "Do you understand how stupid it is to cheat on someone just because you're feeling petty or uncomfortable in a situation-"

"I never cheated on you."

"Ha!" I bark out a laugh. "And I don't have 4C hair." Rolling my eyes, I throw my hands up. "What? So that model at the photoshoot and the lipstick stain on the collar of your shirt wasn't you cheating? Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Really? You really are going to deny-"

"Melody tripped over a sewage drain and that model forced herself onto me." He states firmly. "Neither was consensual or intentional."

Both my brows raise. "Huh. You know, it's real funny how you have an explanation for that now." I roll down my window to cool off, leaning my elbow onto the window seal and my chin in my palm before turning to him again. "Where was this energy months ago?" 

Baekhyun nods. "You're right. I am a coward," He admits, stopping me dead in my tracks. "Dumb enough to not say anything and dumb enough to think that you'd figure it out because I…" He trails off, biting his lips before those teary brown eyes lock onto mine again. Taking my breath away with the endless storm of emotions swirling within them. "With you, I'm like an open book. You always saw right through me, so I thought… I thought I didn't have to say anything," His head drops, looking down at the neat bags sitting at his feet. "And when I did, it was too late."

My eyes narrow. "How do I know you aren't bullshtting me?"

"I have nothing left to lose," He shrugs, smiling sadly.

Anger flares up in me again. "What is that supposed to mean-"

"I already lost you."

My mouth snaps shut, a feeling I haven't felt in months squeezing my heart in earnest.

"Everything you said was true," He mumbles. "All of it. The secrets, the lies-"

"And what makes you say that?"

His ears burn brighter than the red handprint on his cheek. "I'm seeing a therapist."

"Oh—Shit..." A wave of white hot shame falls over me. "Baekhyun, I-I'm sorry-"

"No." He shakes his head before bending down, the paper bags rustling in his grasp. "Don't. You said nothing but the truth."

"That still doesn't make it okay…" I rub the back of my neck, cursing myself inwardly for my anger. I hadn't meant to go off on him, that wasn't my intention—

"It's only fair," He mutters, shrugging weakly. "I've said worse to you."

"I…" I can't help but sigh, at a loss for words. "...I'm proud of you, seeing a therapist takes a lot of courage and self awareness."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you're doing okay," I mumble.

Baekhyun stiffens up. Suddenly the atmosphere in the car shifts into something more melancholic.

"B-Baek?"

He lifts up his head, revealing his tear-stained face to me. "You think so?"

My heart clenches in anguish. "Baekhyun-"

"After everything you…" His voice breaks. "You think I'm fine? You think I'm okay?" Tears dampen the long strands of silver hair dangling in his eyes. "I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I haven't breathed—I haven't lived since the day you left." He croaks, sucking in a breath. "So if you think that I am okay, I am not."

I have nothing else to say after that. What can I even say...?

Feeling tears form in my own eyes, I turn the car back on. My mom always taught me that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say nothing at all. And after I slapped him and said all of those things…

I pull off of the curb, hiding my tears away from him. There's nothing I can do but take him home and hope that in the distant future… In a brand new life… He can forgive me for everything I've done to him and move on too.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. No radio. No cars zooming past. The only thing I hear is his quiet sniffles and the cry of my wheezing heart.

"Thanks for taking me home," He mumbles in the softest of tones, mumbling more to his scuffed up sneakers than to me.

"No problem," I say softly, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder only to pause, gripping the steering wheel again. "Make sure to take some Advil from the third cabinet on the right, okay?"

Baekhyun nods, hiding under the strands of his messy hair. He scares the hell out of me when his head suddenly shoots up again.

"Baek…?" I whisper, not sure what to do as he starts leaning in. He reveals his face to me up close for the first time in months. Heart-wrenching features that I know so well. The droopy shape of his brown eyes, the soft slope of his button nose, the cute little mole on top of his soft pink, thin lips that are pursed in concentration. For what? I have no idea. "Baekhyun-"

He slams his hand down on the dashboard, making me flinch. "Spider," He mutters, opening his hand to reveal its creepy squished body. I shiver at the sight. "I don't want you getting into a wreck. I know how you hate-" He sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Never mind…"

Yeah… I gulp, forcing a smile. Never mind.

"Travel safely, okay?" He takes his bags of food and steps out of the car, moving to close the door only to pause, meeting my eyes from under the bright city lights. "Goodnight, Riley."

It takes everything in me not to break down right there and then. "Good-" My lips wobble. I clear my throat, brushing my hair back before daring to look into his dull brown eyes again. "Goodnight, Baekhyun."

He smiles so small and sadly, making my heart weep when he closes the door and walks off to enter his apartment building.

I sit there for a few moments, staring out at the busy street ahead. It's so funny… This empty feeling in my chest. It's… It's like I never left…

•••

It's unfair… how much your heart hurts when you're stuck on someone. Realizing that no matter how many times they've hurt you, your broken heart still beats for them… and only them.

No matter how hard I try to deny it, the heart doesn't lie…

Baekhyun… is still a part of me. His scent may have faded, his t-shirts and hoodies are cleared out from my room… but the memory of him lives on in my heart. And I can't get rid of him without breaking myself completely and reforming a "perfect mold" to fit myself in.

Ha… funny how that works. 7 months of moving on has led up to this. Nothing. 7 months, 12 months, or 30 years, Baekhyun's scent can wash off of my skin, but the rest of the world won't let me break the two of us apart. If I am my brain, he is my heart. And you can't live without that muscle pumping steadily in your aching chest.

It's so unfair… because I'm trying my hardest to move on with someone else.

It takes me forever to get ready for my date tonight, and when I do… Something tells me to cancel it. But I can't. Jackson will be busy for the next month and a half. This is the only time in his schedule where he can take me out on the "proper date" as he likes to call it. Which he doesn't have to, I'm not that hard to please. I mean for fuck sake, I haven't had an official date until I was 20. 

I'm not picky about these things, but I ended up agreeing in the end anyway. The sad puppy look on Jackson's face when I tried to decline going to a restaurant to just stay in and watch movies instead still haunts me. Those almond shaped, dark brown puppy eyes… Damn him.

Sighing softly, I carefully apply my eyeliner in my vanity mirror, checking over my appearance one last time and smiling at the result. My lips are the richest shade of red, dark brown, waist-length hair curled to perfection, and the crystal earrings I haven't worn in ages sparkle every time they catch the light. Perfect for my chosen dress for the night.

It's a little something that I've bought recently. A spaghetti strapped, black velvet piece with a cowl shaped neck that shows off a bit of my cleavage, form-fitting all the way down to the V shaped end of the dress. It ends high on my thigh, but I have no plans to go dancing tonight, (for Jackson's sake). It's just enough to make him a little hot under his expensive collar. Especially with the lace strings crisscrossed in the back that are the only thing holding the dress up.

A low buzz makes me jump, startling me out of my thoughts. I fish for my phone in the vibrating purse in my lap. I haven't taken it out since last night… The weight of Baekhyun's unblocked number in my phone is a heavy load... and I only have myself to blame.

My eyes widen at the caller ID on the screen: Him. And I know exactly who he is.

Biting my nails, I weigh my options: answer now and end up canceling my plans or call him back tomorrow... 

…

Would it really be that bad to cancel? No—I can't. Jackson thinks I'm a punctual woman and…

"Always so sweet for me," He murmurs lowly, painting my skin with the shape of his lips.

My breath hitches, mouth going dry as more memories dance in my mind. Skin on skin, hushed whispers, champagne painted breaths...

"Mmm you're so wet," He groans, grazing my clit with his teeth. "Making a mess all over me."

A knock on my door makes me pause, staring down at the buzzing phone in my hand.

7 months without Baekhyun… and it has resorted to this.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—Fuck!

I power down the phone, toss it back into my bag, pull it onto my shoulder and launch myself out of my chair to open the door before I lose my nerve. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door makes my heart flutter, but…

"Hey," Jackson smiles softly, his dark brown eyes sparkling under the bright lights.

It doesn't take my breath away.

"Hi," I manage a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"You look beautiful," He compliments, his eyes sparkling even more as he looks over my dress before meeting my eyes again.

My smile grows, warmth spreading over my cheeks. "Thank you," I mutter softly, laughing a little. "You're not too bad yourself."

He smiles again, gesturing to me, the shine of his thin gold bracelet reflecting the hallway lights. "May I?"

"Hmm?—Oh!" I gasp, noticing the red and black corsage in his hands. "Y-Yes," I smile shyly, my heart pounding when he holds out his hand to me.

Jackson gently takes my hand, carefully slipping the corsage around my wrist. The caress of his rough fingertips makes a shiver go down my spine, goosebumps left on my skin when he pulls away.

His outfit catches my attention. Normally I'd feel a little shameless for looking at him from head to toe, but after what happened earlier… I can use a distraction.

He's wearing a black blazer with a matching lace turtleneck shirt underneath that gives me a glimpse of his toned skin, making my breath hitch. A golden necklace with a pendant rests in the middle of his chest, making him look so attractive when it twinkles under the lights. And with the way his shirt is tucked into his stylish black jeans… Fuck me ten times over.

My eyes trail further down his body. He has on that expensive gold watch I saw the first time we met and elegant rings on his veiny hands. I forget to breathe remembering how it felt to be held in his strong arms...

Snapping out of my daze, my wide eyes dart back up to his, finding the sweetest of shy smiles on his lips and a pink hue to his cheeks. He just caught me checking him out and he's blushing. Adorable. Clearing my throat, I smile, feeling my own face heat up under his admiring gaze. "Not bad at all."

His soft chuckle makes me feel less embarrassed. Maybe he can tell that I'm nervous… but not what has me so nervous.

Baekhyun's tear-stained face has been haunting me all day and I barely managed to get any sleep last night. His small voice replays in my head and soft spoken words cover my skin. My face heats up and pales at the same time at the reminder of what I was thinking about not even 10 minutes ago. I had a memory of him going down on me for Christ sake! Looking up at Jackson's handsome face, I feel another wave of hot shame. Can the ground please open up and swallow me whole?

"Shall we?" Jackson asks, bring my attention back to him. He offers his elbow to me, waiting for me to lock my arm with his. Another smile forms on my face; I have to suppress a giggle bubbling in my chest. He's so sweet and gentle compared to all the other men in my life. Ugh, my poor heart is racing like crazy.

I lock the door behind me and wrap my arm around his, appreciating the firmness of his bicep as he leads us down the hallway. The taps of our respective shoes echo around the quiet hall while we wait a few minutes for the elevator to arrive. "I'm not taking too much of your time, am I?" I mumble, watching the floor numbers rise to avoid his gaze.

"Hmm?" Jackson hums, his alluring cologne hitting me when he turns his head to look at me.

"Your schedule," I elaborate, glancing at him from under my eyelashes. "I'm not infringing on your work time, am I?"

"No," He shakes his head, holding the metal doors open for me while I walk into the elevator.

"But you said you are in the middle of the most important part of filming and-" I stop, my eyes widening at the warmth on my cheeks.

"Riley." Jackson looks right into my eyes, his rough palms cradling my face. "You are not 'taking too much' of my time, alright?" He mumbles, brown eyes drifting over my features while his thumb swipes over the top of my cheek, leaving a blaze of gentle heat in its wake. "This night is for us."

My heart practically leaps out of my chest the longer I stare into his warm eyes. I break eye contact. "O-Okay," I whisper, smiling shyly.

Jackson smiles, taking my hand when the elevator doors open onto the ground floor. As we walk past the security guard in the lobby, I wonder how I look next to him… He's the same height as Baekhyun, more toned where the latter has softer edges. They both have sharp jawlines, but Jackson's cheeks are more chiseled than squishy like Baekhyun's sweet face—

"Ladies first," His low voice muses.

Lifting my head from my white high heels, I look into Jackson's eyes, realizing that his dark brown eyes don't hold the same tension Baekhyun's does when I am taller than him like this. My shyness aside, with my almost average height and tall heels, I'm a few centimeters taller than Jackson. But instead of finding that spark of insecurity I'm used to seeing in Baekhyun's eyes, Jackson looks at me as if I am the goddess who put the moon in the sky.

Stepping out into the quiet night, I look up at the stars, having to blink a few times when I see a pair of droopy brown eyes staring down at me. No. I shake my head, sighing in frustration. God, why do I see him everywhere I go?

We make our way to the parking lot on the side of the apartment complex. The silence between us isn't striffling like the one I've come to grow wary of over the past year. That piercing void full of held back frustration and heated glares...

A car unlocks in the distance, drawing my attention to a sleek black vehicle when it lights up. A Jaguar, stunning with it's cat-eye headlights and the way the engine purrs to life. The car is honestly mesmerizing, and it suits Jackson well, but my heart tugs painfully in my chest when he opens the passenger door for me and I don't see any red accessory detailing on the inside...

"You look stunning in that dress." He says when he climbs into the driver's seat, his low voice making me feel something deep in my stomach.

"T-Thank you," I blush scarlet, shifting towards the passenger window to hide my red face. It's been a long time since someone has complimented me so genuinely. I haven't felt like this since—

"Are you really that insecure?"

The memory hits me like a punch to the gut.

"You okay?" Jackson asks, his eyes shining with concern.

"Y-Yeah," I whisper, clutching onto my purse. My face hasn't cooled down since I left my apartment and I doubt it will at this rate. Between Jackson's sweet eyes and Baekhyun's teary ones that haven't left my mind, I'm royally screwed. "How's work?" 

Jackson hums. "It's good." He keeps his eyes on the road, pulling out of the parking lot. "The movie is coming along nicely."

Taking a few discrete and deep breaths, I rest my head on my arm, focusing on the low timbre of his raspy voice. "Did the tech team find any more of those files?"

"No." He shakes his head, making a left turn. "Thankfully those were the only ones," He smiles, glancing over at me; the twinkles of excitement and affection in his eyes is hard to ignore. "Now the editing team can take over."

I fight the urge to rest a hand over my heart. "The movie won't be delayed?"

"The movie won't be delayed," He confirms warmly, focusing fully on me at the next red light. His brown hair falls attractively over his forehead, casting a shadow over his dark and expressive eyes. "We'll be ahead of schedule. Everyone worked in advance while waiting for the tech team to sort through the files."

"That's good," I smile, turning my attention to our surroundings streaming past the window.

Jackson navigates us down the long Seoul streets, the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes while he steers the wheel with both hands. He looks handsome under the favor of the moonlight, the headlights of passing cars sparkling across his thin necklace. For a moment I imagine a future—an us. How it would feel to hold his calloused hands and gaze into his adoring eyes. What it would be like to wake up to his face in the mornings. That deep, raspy voice… I shiver at the thought, praying the traffic lights don't show the red hue I feel on my cheeks.

Soft and slow R&B floats from the quiet car radio, caressing my ears with its gentle melodies while Jackson turns his blinkers on. I hum, tapping along to the beat, a smile curling at my lips. It's a perfect song for a summer night like this, adding a calming atmosphere to the intimate space of Jackson's car—

"I love this song."

Baekhyun raises a brow, his eyes focused on the road as he turns up the radio with a smile. "Really?"

"Yeah." He has such a stunning side profile, I could gaze at him for hours. "I listened to a lot of their songs growing up."

"Your parents have great taste."

"Mm." The sunlight reflecting in his brown eyes has nothing on the sparkles of happiness in his shining orbs. "I guess you do too."

I sigh through my nose, shoving down the emotions budding in my chest. No matter how hard I try, memories of him continue to play in my mind. All our romantic mid-day drives and late night talks of a future we thought we had in store… Our shared hopes and dreams that went up in flames before our very eyes.

Next thing I know, Jackson is putting the car into park, the purr of the engine cutting off in exchange for the summer heat seeping in through the pause of the air conditioner.

"You ready?" He looks over at me, the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes hitting me full force.

"Yeah," I smile, curling my hand around the strap of my purse. The giddy smile he gives me in return is so damn sweet I want to cry.

Jackson steps out of the Jaguar and it doesn't take him long to round the car. He opens the passenger door for me before I realize that we've reached the restaurant.

"Thank you," I giggle in embarrassment, placing my hand in the one he offers me with another one of those adorable smiles of his. My heart skips a beat when he presses a kiss to the back of my hand while I step out onto the asphalt. If he keeps this up I'm going to have a heart attack over this softness. What the hell, why aren't there more guys like Jackson in the world? And how the hell has he been single this whole time with him out here sweeping me off my feet like this?

His widened smile and the way his eyes drift over my features has a comforting warmth settling over my beating heart. He leads the way to the restaurant, opening the door for me like the heart-fluttering gentleman he is. He's going all out on winning me over tonight and I'm loving every minute of it.

The smell of freshly baked lasagna and garlic bread has my mouth watering as we make our way up to the counter. I catch a peek at the beautifully arranged, round wooden tables under a romantic lighting in the next room.

"Reservations for Wang." Jackson's voice sounds more firm when he addresses the lady at the counter, a flicker of his director persona flashing across his face. If nothing else, one look at him and you can tell that he's about business—even for a little date like this. A first date too. It's hard fighting my adoring smile.

The receptionist checks on the computer in front of her and looks down at her clipboard, nodding with a polite smile. "Right this way," She gestures to the next room. Her black suit, matching bow tie, and crisp clean, white dress shirt add onto the expensive air of the restaurant. The food is fresh, the atmosphere is dreamy, and every surface shines brightly under the dim candle-lit lights.

The further we walk into the restaurant, the more I have to be sure not to let my jaw drop in awe. Everything about this place is magical, from the happily conversing customers to the beautiful chandeliers in the hallway. The receptionist leads us to a table in a more secluded area, the muffled chatter of the rest of the patrons coming through the velvet walls. "Your water will be out shortly," She sets the menus on the table before taking her leave with a bow.

"Allow me," Jackson murmurs, his words caressing my ear. His cologne washes over me when he walks over to the table, pulling out a chair and waiting for me with the most charming smile on his face. I can't hold my own back even if I tried.

"Thank you," I say warmly, humored and flattered beyond belief. The proximity of his hand to my bare shoulders has a pleasant shiver going down my spine. A flush forms on my face. The man has done nothing but be a gentleman and I'm over here yearning for his touch like a giddy teenager.

Jackson's scent hits me once again when he moves to take his seat. The minty smell of aftershave and a hint of his own unique manly scent has me damn near drooling and we haven't even had appetizers yet. My stomach is building tension and I doubt it has anything to do with the menu.

"How was your day?" He inquires.

I startle out of my horny musings like a cat doused in cold water. Oh shit. "It was alright," I laugh nervously, trying to keep my voice from wavering into that annoying raspy tone it gets when I'm not careful enough. "I turned in my final assignments and am awaiting my test results for the semester." 

A waiter comes to take our order, sparing me a few minutes from having to explain myself. I'm struggling to find words here. What am I supposed to say? "Oh yeah, I spent all day daydreaming about my heartbroken ex and the steamy sex we used to have." I'd die of embarrassment so damn fast. I'm appalled at myself.

"What are you studying?" His dark brown eyes are back on me when the waiter walks away. A flutter stutters in my chest under his attentive gaze.

"Business," I resist the urge to rest my chin on my palm, choosing to swirl my fork around my salad instead. "I'm working on my bachelor's degree. I want to improve my performance at work."

His eyes widen, curiosity painting on his handsome features. "What do you do?"

I smile softly. He's adorable. "I'm the Director at Park's Publishing."

"You work in a publishing house?"

"I manage the 5th floor," I share, a smirk quirking at my lips. The last thing I did this morning before going home around lunch was inform everyone about our busy schedule at the end of the month. "I miss my editing days, not gonna lie." I laugh, poking an olive. "Sorry, work kind of stresses me out."

"No," Jackson shakes his head, smiling softly, "I get it. Taking a group of people under your wing is a big responsibility."

"It's sooo difficult." Sighing, I cross my legs, the back of my heel clicking against the leg of my chair. "Since I'm not directly in charge of editing, I have to guide others and keep reminding myself that I can't do the work for them. They have to learn on their own."

"Same," He nods, swallowing a bite of Italian seasoning drenched tomato and lettuce. "I have to fight the urge to take things over that the marketing and editing teams are supposed to handle." A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, making me smile in understanding. "Good thing I'm not Ceo," He jokes. 

I laugh, thinking to myself: Yeah, thank fuck you aren't one.

When the waiter brings our food, the reminder that I haven't eaten all day stirs in my hungry stomach. I take a bite of my chicken alfredo before it can growl, closing my eyes to hide how they roll back when the gooey goodness of cheese and perfectly boiled noodle hits my tongue. Holy fuck. This food right here is the shit. If I had a meal like this more often, I'd never complain again in my life.

I find myself observing Jackson while he enjoys his own meal. He chews with his mouth closed, neatly cutting his chicken with a fork and knife. The room is quiet with only the soft music playing overhead and the sound of our silverware clicking against the pristine plates.

"I want to wake up every morning to your sleeping face curled up by my side," Baekhyun murmurs, smiling shyly.The red hue of his cheeks endearing under the dim lights. "Your hair products cluttering our dresser and your toothbrush next to mine."

"You really like cucumbers, huh?" Jackson muses.

I jolt out of my thoughts, realizing to my horror that I've been leaning over the table, picking the cucumbers from his salad. "Oh! Y-Yeah," I chuckle, my face burning scarlet. From humor or embarrassment, I have no idea. Probably both at this rate. "You could say that..."

Originally posted by sefuns

August fades seamlessly into September, urging the leaves on trees to change into red, orange, and pretty yellow hues. Gone are the dog days of summer smitting everyone from above. Now the best season of all is coming out to play, and I am all for it.

Skipping down the street in my newest yellow skater dress and nude sandals, I check the GPS on my phone to search for the street that I'm on. Today I decided that walking around aimlessly for hours was the best course of action to clear my mind, and now I've found myself in a part of Seoul that I've never been to before.

The architecture of the landscape around me is something to behold. The windows are cut out squares that only allow light to be seen from within the rooms as the sun goes down, and the buildings are curved this way and that in the most intricate of ways. It surely is a view I wouldn't mind venutring over here to see again sometime. The lively chatter of pedestrians on the sidewalk is refreshing too.

Smiling to myself, my eyes catch sight of a particular building in the distance. I quickly cross the street for a closer look. It's a giant library that looks to be 4 stories tall, showcasing a huge bookshelf on the back wall from the view of the front windows. Highly intrigued, and lowkey smitten, I step inside for a closer look.

The smell of books hits me in an instant, the young and old novels arranged neatly in little bookshelves compared to that mountain of literature on the farthest wall. There's a small cafe serving up delicious muffins to my right and a huge sitting area full of the perfect lounge chairs on my left. Crowds of people make their way to and fro between the aisles without hiccup. There's so much to do that I don't even know where to start.

Walking over to the Romance section, I skim my fingertips along the book covers, aimlessly striding down the aisle until a thin, blue book catches my eye. Curious, I move to pull it out only for another hand to beat me to it. A familiar, slender hand.

I yank my hand back at once. "Dude!" Lowering my voice, I glare at the man in front of me. "Why the hell are you always everywhere? Are you following me around or what?"

"W-What?" Baekhyun's wide brown eyes stare back at me.

"I never thought you'd resort to stalking, Baekhyun." I shake my head, brushing past him, the silver buttons of his waist-length jacket cold against my sun-kissed skin.

"I'm not fucking!" He slaps a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. "I'm not following you around."

"Then why are you here, huh?" I keep my eyes forward, marching into the next aisle.

"Because—will you stop walking away from me?!?!?!"

I freeze, the sheer desperation in his voice roots my feet to the floor. "Why are you here, Baekhyun?" I cross my arms, shivering under the air conditioner overhead.

"Hannam-dong library extraordinaire," He utters, his shadow moving closer as I tense up. "You put it on the bucket list. The one we made together." Hope pours out from his every word, his painfully slow footsteps seeming to stem from the faint memories crowding his mind. "You listed every place you wanted to go and w-we, we never…" He stops when his voice cracks, clearing his throat. "You made a copy by hand so we'd always have it," He mumbles sadly. "I guess it's meaningless now."

Emotions grip at my throat and tears threaten to fill my eyes. I slowly turn around, snatching the book out of his hands. "Give me that." Flickering my eyes up to his hurt-filled eyes, I gesture to the sitting area with my chin. "Follow me."

Baekhyun follows behind me without a word, shuffling his boots noisily on the carpeted floor. I have half the mind to tell him about it until I remember where we are—in a library and in life. Biting my tongue, I plop down into the longest couch available, staring at his nervous figure when he doesn't join me. "Come on!" I snap, throwing a pillow at him that he's quick to catch. "Sit your ass down, I don't got all day." I grumble, opening the blue book. "I came here to read and I plan to do so."

A few moments go by, nothing but the quiet chatter of visitors and the coffee pot whistling on the other side of the room fills the air. Just when my heart drops at the thought of him being gone, a weight sinks down into the couch next to me. I look to see Baekhyun in a grey sweater, his jacket left on the back of the chair. His eyes are closed and neck is bare while resting his head on the back of the couch. Silver locks of hair messily dangle on his forehead, long eyelashes caressing the tops of his cheeks. I frown at the lack of fluff I find there, his mother's words a distant whisper in my ear.

Baekhyun makes me jump when he peeks an eye open, opening the other before blinking slowly at me. "I'm listening," He murmurs softly, keeping those expressive brown eyes on me.

My heart skips a beat. Smiling to myself, I focus back on the book in my hands, flipping to the first page and beginning to read aloud.

•••

Weeks fly by once mid September hits, endless clusters of colored leaves blowing away in its wind. The sun rises later in the day and sets at a different angle at night, casting warm shadows over my bedroom window that never fail to bring a smile to my face. Everything about this time of year puts me in high spirits. The weather is perfect for my velvety outfits and the annoying ass bugs are finally starting to go away. It's a calm, homey fairytale land full of sweet breezes and mid autumn adventures.

I lean over my vanity while painstakingly applying my red lipstick in the mirror, smoothing it out with care. My makeup for tonight goes well with my newest party dress, a burgundy velvet, off the shoulder piece with a deep v neck. It has long puffed sleeves with fitted cuffs that wrap comfortably around my wrists and a matching belt to emphasize the hourglass shape of my waist. The thick material is perfect for early October, the nights beginning to get just the littlest bit colder.

Humming to myself, I carefully put on my gold dangling earrings, smiling at the reflection of my wavy hair. Just letting it air dry with curling irons in it for a few minutes ended up with the subtle result. I'm attending one of Jackson's infamous parties tonight as his date, not his seducer. Although, I don't need to get all dolled up to impress him anyway. Batting my eyelashes and looking intensely into his deep, dark brown eyes is enough.

This time around, I'm prepared for the knock on my door. Two months of various dates has sunk a certain time into my core. 10pm on the dot. Punctual as always. My red painted lips quirk up at the thought. With one last glance into my vanity mirror, I spin around on my one-inch, open-toed black heels, strutting over to open the door and whistling at the sight.

Jackson smiles, looking hot as hell in his black blazer and thin gold chain with no shirt underneath. His muscular thighs look amazing in his tight jeans, and with his brown hair brushed back with a few strands of hair attractively left on his forehead…

"You look gorgeous," He murmurs, planting a kiss on my forehead while I'm distracted by his two sets of gold earrings.

I smile coyly, tucking my finger in his necklace and tugging on it lightly. "You're not so bad yourself."

Conversations between us flow more easily over the past few months. I show him my sass and he throws it right back, making me laugh every time. His attractive mind comes up with the most astounding ideas and points of view. There are many different sides to him as well. His confident, professional way of handling business to how he likes to roll over on my couch to rest his head in my lap and look up at me with those dark brown puppy eyes. 

Things are easy—that's just how it is with Jackson. It's a nice change from the complicated men in my life. He's adorable and sexy all in one.

The clicks of my heels echo across the sidewalk as we walk up to the frat house, my hand wrapped around his bicep. The party is just starting to pick up it seems; a fair amount of party goers are streaming in the front double doors.

"I want to introduce you to someone," Jackson perks up the moment we reach the entrance.

"Really?" I bat my eyes at him, stepping closer when someone brushes past us in a hurry. "Well, I'm down for that."

He smiles, holding the door open for me. I softly squeeze his bicep before letting him go, walking into his alumni house for the first time in almost a year. Last December I was crossing this same threshold with Jenny by my side, can you believe that? A lot can happen in 10 months, and I can't wait for what's in store for me.

"Jackson!" A deep voice reaches us over the loud music and growing crowd. I can barely make out a figure under all the neon lights, beckoning us over. Jackson's cologne washes over me before I feel his arm brush against my back.

"Let's go," He takes my hand in his, a smile audible in his raspy voice. I follow his lead, swiveling my head around to take in the view of the house. Just as I thought, everything is impeccably arranged. From the mini bar in the back corner to the DJ booth, it screams Jackson. Charming. Intelligent. And expensive. Even with the clumsy party attendees stumbling around.

He turns the corner on the right side of the hallway, following the medium-build figure walking down to a slightly ajar door at the end of the hall. The chatter from within the small room comes to a halt when the stranger pushes open the door.

"Took you long enough, Tuan!" A high-pitched, bubbly voice laughs, their plump lips smiling in amusement.

The man we've been following turns around, smiling while 5 other pairs of eyes land on us. "Hey, man."

"Mark," Jackson steps forward for a bro hug, clapping a hand over the raven's back. He goes around to do the same and fist bumps the other men in the room before standing next to me again. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

All of them smile, curiosity and friendliness coming off of them in waves—except for one.

Yugyeom sits with his legs crossed in the far corner of the room, smirking while leaning his head in his hand. I make a point to ignore him, shaking everyone's hand with my most polite smile. Their compliments of my dress has me blushing all the way up to my ears. Thankfully the dim lights hide it from view.

Jackson and I take a spot on the only available couch in the cozy room, sitting between Mark and another man with sharp cat-like eyes and a barbell piercing.

"Is this your first party?" The latter asks, swirling the brown alcohol in his glass.

"No," I smile, way too aware of Yugyeom's stare burning into the side of my head. I carefully open a can of beer that Jackson hands to me, taking a long sip.

"Huh," He takes a swing of his drink while I lean my head onto Jackson's shoulder. "Why haven't I seen you around before?"

"I have," Yugyeom joins in, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows at me from over the rim of his glass. My eye twitches. Yeah, I see why this little shit and Jenny broke up.

I quietly observe everyone while the night carries on, the faint bass from the music down the hallway vibrating through the floor. Jackson catches up with his "brothers," in the meantime, updating them on the progress of his film. My eyes lazily sweep over the well-furnished room, the edges of my vision turning blurry. I make sure that the next two cans of beer that I drink aren't open when they are handed to me.

Sometime around midnight, I loosen up, the buzz of alcohol rushing through my veins prompting me to lose my filter. Between BamBam with the plush lips playful banter and the juicy tales of Jaebum's romantic conquests, I'm positively beaming, chatting without a care with my legs draped over Jackson's lap.

Mark cracks a joke that sends me reeling, nearly falling off of the couch if it wasn't for the man next to me, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. I hide my face in the crook of his neck, taking in his vanilla scent. The hint of citrus on his honey-toned skin has warmth spreading over my chest, the image of his sweet, brown puppy eyes printed behind my eyelids.

I laugh until I realize how dead silent the room has gotten. Lifting my head, I look around before tugging lightly on Jackson's sleeve. "Hey..." I murmur with difficulty, growing unnerved under their piercing stares. "What's-"

"Let's call it a night," He mutters, not meeting my eye.

Snapping my mouth shut, I nod, wondering what I did wrong while he bids everyone goodnight. I stand up with the help of his hand on my arm, guiding me over to the doorway that seems to be tilting to the side.

"Hey…" I try again, focusing hard on putting one foot in front of the other. What happened…? Did I laugh too hard? React too dramatically? Is there a piece of fruit stuck between my teeth? I knew I shouldn't have had that parfait before—

Jackson pulls aside me to an empty corner shielded by large plants in the hallway. His lips part a few times before he presses them into a thin line. "You just called me Baekhyun," He mutters, clenching his jaw.

Oh. I sober up in a heartbeat. "S-Shit, I-" The color drains from my face the longer I gaze into his disappointed dark brown eyes. I can feel tears filling my own. "I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine." His stiff posture says otherwise and I've never seen such a hard expression on his features before. "I'll drive you home."

"Wait…" Resting my hand on his arm, I brace myself with a racing heart for the backlash I'll get for what I'm about to ask. "C-Can you drop me off somewhere instead?"

•••

The car ride into the heart of Seoul is stifling. I can't recall us ever being like this… let alone having Jackson angry with me. His grip on the steering wheel has his knuckles turning white, the clench of his jaw concerning me as well. I can only blame myself, swearing inwardly for coming out tonight. 

This wasn't supposed to happen… None of this was. The Baekhyun; the shy smiles; the longing. The Yugyeom; the drinking; the nerves... If I could go back in time, I never would have gone to that frat party last year. I would have stayed at Jenny's apartment, bonding over skincare routines and shitty tv shows. But no... I had to go out that December night, and now I am facing the consequences.

It's taking everything in me just to hold back my tears.

"We're here." Jackson speaks up after an hour of silence, nothing but the zooming cars and lively nightlife filling up the empty space from beyond the tinted windows. It does little to ease the tension in the car—it only seems to build when he pulls up to the curb, leaving the engine running.

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I can't even face him right now. By the cold look in his eyes, I know there is no use trying to talk to him. I can't even defend myself. There's only one explanation for what happened earlier, and it's the most shitty one of all... 

Baekhyun.

On my mind; in my thoughts; in my heart. The way his long eyelashes brush the top of his glowy cheeks and the world swirling in his sparkly brown eyes when he looks at me. Everywhere I go, I see him, feel him, and wish he was there… From the darkest crevices of my anxious mind to the deepest depths of my beating heart.

No matter where I turn. No matter how much I try. There is only one man in the world for me in this lifetime. There is only one name my soul cries out for… and it isn't the one next to me.

I swallow hard, my heart aching for Jackson. The telling shine of tears reflected in his brown eyes can't be hidden when a truck drives past, revealing the vulnerability in his dark eyes. I hate that things are ending this way. The pounding of my head and sour taste on the back of my tongue are only reminders of how much I've messed up tonight.

Working up my nerve, I step out of his Jaguar, ducking my head back inside with a tight grip on the door.

"Thank you," I whisper over the loud crickets and crying tree frogs, "For everything." Sighing shakily, I crack one last smile as a tear rolls down my cheek. "Thank you for showing me how wonderful life can be."

Jackson turns his head, regarding me with teary, fire-filled eyes. His throat bobs and he manages a small smile in return, nodding slowly. "The pleasure is all mine, Riley."

With a pounding heart, I close the car door with care, walking onto the curb. I look back over my shoulder one more time when I reach the doors of the apartment complex, watching him drive off with a sad smile. The quiet night wraps around me, bringing me little comfort against the bitter cold that I feel inside of my heart. What if I'm making a mistake? I just walked away from the only man who treated me the way I deserve… A stable, well off man for a broken, world shattering one.

A million thoughts race through my mind while climbing the stairs to his apartment, my hand clutching onto the railing for dear life. What if he's not home? What if I'm too late? What if he's finally moved on and I'm the only one still stuck in the past? Still stuck on us?

Tears spring to my eyes, making it hard to see the wobbly steps with my blurred vision, but I carry on, one step at a time. Something tugs deep in my chest—a gut feeling. One that has me pausing from the sheer force behind it.

Baekhyun is my home, and he is waiting for me.

I break out into a run, nearly slipping on the last step before I reach the landing of the fourth floor, swinging the stairway door open so hard it collides with the wall. My heels pound against the marble floor until I trip over something, slamming my head on his door. The resounding thud echoes across the silent walls and the door is yanked open within seconds.

His wide, shock-filled brown eyes stare at me from the doorway, with his messy silver hair and a white wrinkled t-shirt.

I all but throw myself at him.

Baekhyun gasps, catching me before I fall. "Riley, I-"

"No." I shake my head, hugging him tighter, my voice wavering. "You listen to me." Looking up into his brown eyes, I cup his warm cheeks in my cold hands. "I don't care how long it takes, I don't care how much my heart breaks." My chin wobbles, salty tears streaming like a waterfall down my face, but nothing else matters. Nothing can hurt me when I'm in his comforting embrace.

"If it's not with you, I don't want it," I breathe, staring deep into his glimmering eyes. "Do you hear me? You can break my heart a million times, and I can do the same." Swiping a tear from under his eye, I cradle his face in my palm, painting his vulnerable expression into memory. "As long as we mend it back together, we will be okay." I nod, looking between his wide eyes. "We will get through this." I state firmly, melting against him when he tightens his hold on my waist. "We are in this together. Okay?" His silence is worrying me… "B?"

"Are you…" He slowly reaches up, cupping my cold cheek in his warm hand, his frantic brown eyes searching mine for answers. "Are you really here?" He whispers.

"Yes." I watch the light begin to return to his tired eyes. "I'm here, Baekhyun." I pull him closer, squeezing him in my arms, his racing heart beating in sync with mine. "I'm here." My heart drops when he pulls away.

Baekhyun shakes his head, moving his hand from my cheek to take mine into his. "I'm stubborn, insecure, and possessive." He mutters, gazing right into my eyes, determination written all over his face. "I'm… I'm annoying, overbearing, and a workaholic."

I give him my softest, loving smile. "Well, me too." Slowly reaching for him again, I paint my name on his honey-toned skin with my fingertips. "Let's be fucked up together, hmm?"

"I…" He sighs, resting his forehead on mine, staring lovingly and worriedly into my eyes. "I don't want you to regret this."

"I won't," I murmur, tracing three little words across his collarbones. "If I do, we'll fight and then have makeup sex."

Baekhyun chokes. "You're terrible." He coughs, patting his chest, the red hue on his cheeks more endearing than ever before.

I shrug, smiling at him. "When it comes to you?" Sliding my hand up his chest, I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, hovering my lips over his, "I am many things."

•••

It's funny; how easy it is to fall back into him. His loving arms and secure embrace. Every day spent with him slowly mends the cracks in my fragile heart, filling them with the most everlasting remedy of all. Love.

Time is endless when I am with him. Moments become weeks. Seconds turn into hours. Being with Baekhyun makes any taxing and mundane task into a precious activity that I'd love to do again—just because it's him.

Our dynamic has changed, even the air around us is new. We talk about everything. We face problems head on. A few arguments break out sometimes because we are two stubborn individuals, but those aren't a problem now. No big fights. No tearing into each other. I may call him an asshole and he'll rebuke with that I'm being a bitch, (which I am more often than not,) but at the end of the day. When the tension is gone and our sad eyes lock from across the room. We work things out and fall more in love with each other, no matter the struggle we've been through.

—Like right now.

"Perfect," I laugh bitterly, taking out my earrings while storming into the living room. "Fucking perfect."

"Riley," Baekhyun sighs, closing the door.

"No. Fuck this." I spit heatedly, throwing my hands up. "You always do this bullshit. Every time I go out you have something to say. What is it, huh? Why you always got to be up in my shit-"

Turning to him, I'm met by tired brown eyes, his hands falling limply to his sides. "Can we talk this out?" He asks softly, eyes pleading. "I rather hold you than fight."

Still huffing and puffing, I stare into his puppy eyes and sad pout. Without a word, I march over to him, tucking myself under his chin and wrapping my arms around his waist.

"I get it, okay? I have no problems with you going out with your friends." He mumbles into my hair, kissing my head. "I just want to make sure you are safe. Call me, text me, send me a pic to let me know that you're alright." He pulls back a little to cup my face in his hands, staring deep into my eyes. "You're my baby," He whispers, brushing frustrated tears from my cheeks. "If something ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Please understand where I'm coming from."

"Okay." I mumble against his shoulder, hiding more in his vanilla scent. "...I'm sorry for going off on you."

"Shh," Baekhyun hugs me tighter, surrounding me in his warmth and tangling his fingers in my hair. "I trust you, okay?" He nuzzles in my hair, sighing softly. "It's the rest of the world that I don't."

I love him. I love him with every part of me. If I had the chance to go back in time, I'd choose to meet him every time. Even on days where I have to walk out of his apartment to catch a breather. Those cold nights where I stubbornly shiver on his balcony until he comes out to place his jacket on my shoulders. And the times I ask myself why the hell I'm fighting with him over which color we should switch his window curtains into again. Despite all the good and the bad. The happiness and earth shattering agony. I wouldn't change it for the world.

"Are you cold?" Baekhyun mumbles, bringing the back of my hand to his cheek.

"I'm fine, B," I reassure, ignoring the goosebumps that erupt on my skin. From his loving touch or the cold bite of the November air, I have no idea. Most likely both.

"You're shivering." He points out, already struggling off his jacket before I can respond. "I told you it would be cold today."

"I wanted to take the risk, okay?" I sigh, smiling into the cinnamon scented fabric he places on my shoulders.

"It's the middle of November," He murmurs with a shake of his head, tucking our joined hands into the pocket of his jeans.

"Maybe," I mumble in amusement, beaming at him and batting my eyelashes. "But you love this dress on me. Admit it." Today I'm wearing a royal blue summer dress. The weather may be shifting from windy fall to bitter winter, but that won't stop me from rocking this sleeveless, v neck, shirt dress with a tie around my waist.

Baekhyun's eyes shift away from the red crosswalk light ahead to look me over, taking his time with a little cheeky smile on his face. "Well," He murmurs, mischief shining in his sparkly brown eyes. "I can't deny that."

I giggle, ignoring the warmth on my cheeks when he softly squeezes my hand, leading the way as we cross the street. I've missed this feeling: walking hand and hand—our fingers interwtined and young hearts racing as one. Not even the chilly wind can ruin the mood I'm in—I just tuck myself closer to his side.

Baekhyun hums, wrapping his arm around me, pulling me closer when a group of children come running down the sidewalk. The shrill voice of their scolding mother has us sharing a knowing look, smiling shyly. Yeah, nothing quite gets better than this.

"Riley?"

I stiffen, that low, raspy voice shakes me to my very core.

Baekhyun's brown eyes shoot to mine in an instant. "Baby?" He murmurs, a worried frown on his face as he leans to my ear. "Do you know him?"

"Um-" I avoid his eyes, holding onto the hem of his shirt for dear life. "I- Uh-"

A shadow falls over us before a figure walks around to face us, and those dark brown puppy eyes have never looked so solemn. Fuck.

"Jackson Wang?" Baekhyun blinks, sending me into an internal panic. "Hey, man," He smiles, going in for a handshake. "Long time no see. How's the movie?"

Jackson's brown eyes stare into mine before he looks down at Baekhyun's hand. "Good."

Baekhyun frowns, retracting his hand, confusion written all over his face.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here," I manage a small, polite smile, my heart racing nervously when Jackson pulls the towel from around his neck, his dark brown eyes landing back on me. "What you up to?" I tilt my head, resting a hand on Baekhyun's back.

"Out for a jog," Jackson shrugs, the fabric of his black t-shirt sticking to his damp skin. His eyes track how Baekhyun reaches back to take my hand into his. "I was supposed to play basketball with the guys," He continues sourly, "But they blew me off."

"Ah…" I purse my lips, straining another smile. "I hope you all can meet up soon."

He nods, the clench of his jaw and unreadable look in his eyes telling me all that I need to know.

"Well!" Resting my hand on Baekhyun's bicep, I risk a glance at him, unnerved at the equally hard to read expression on his features. "Baekhyun and I will be heading out now. We have reservations to make."

Jackson merely nods, his eyes burning into the back of my head as I lead Baekhyun around him. "See you around, Riley."

Cursing under my breath, I shoot him one last smile over my shoulder, urging Baekyun to walk faster. I hold my breath until we turn the corner onto the next street. "Geez what a mess," I mutter, loosening my death grip on his hand.

Baekhyun continues to securely hold onto my hand and his calm, quiet reaction has me more anxious than all the fights we've had combined. "B-Baekhyun?" I ask tentatively, trying to read his side profile. "Are you okay?" The way his silence stretches out is killing me. "B?"

"Well," He mumbles, nudging a stray rock on the ground. "Jackson is nice. He seems cool."

Uh oh. "Baekhyun-"

"No no, it's fine." He shakes his head. "I see the appeal, you know?" He looks over at me, smiling sadly. "Sharp jawline, muscular, more manly than I'll ever-"

I pull him into the nearest alleyway for privacy before facing him head on, resting my hands on his chest. "You know I only want you, right B?"

"I-I do, I just-" If the kicked puppy expression on his face was for anything else, I'd find it endearing. "He's so well put together and-"

I promptly press my lips to his, pulling back after a few moments with a raised brow. "Better?"

Baekhyun's lips part a few times, the open expression on his face cute as hell. He makes a small noise and hugs me close, sealing my lips in another kiss.

After that day, the ice has broken between us—the last wall I had built up came crumbling down. Hiding from Baekhyun isn't needed anymore. The reassurance that we can actually talk about things instead of letting tension build is all I could ask for, alongside his love and time of course. If only I could be with him tonight.

Mrs. Park wanted me to attend a press conference or whatever with her out of the blue, saying something about it being "a big deal" and "very important" that I be there. So here I am, accessing my options for the night.

Three different outfits cover the entirety of my bed, each bringing forth a slightly different mood from the last. The first one is my trusty go-to, below the knee length dress. A simple black piece of material that's flattering for my figure without exposing my wild side. The second outfit is a basic black blazer, white dress shirt, and black dress pants—the bore of all boring clothing. Nothing wrong with it, but I'm not feeling really "plain and dull" tonight.

Now, the third option is one to behold.

A dress that is a combination between the two: a long sleeved, low cut, black dress with pretty lace for the left sleeve and solid material on the right that wraps over more lace underneath. The perfect mix of femininity and authority. I think I know which outfit is the one for me. 

Slipping into the warm material with ease, I grab my car keys and head out to meet Mrs. Park at the venue. The thought of sending Baekhyun a text crosses my mind while taking the elevator. Now that I think about it, I haven't heard from him all day. Where he at?? Is he still working late or did my comment about him never cooking a meal in his life hurt his feelings last night? If I wasn't piled up to my ears with paperwork all day I would have stopped by his office to have lunch…

Frowning to myself, I keep both my hands on the steering wheel, leaving my phone untouched in my purse on the passenger floor. Worried or not, I'm not even going to pull out my phone at the next red light. In a big city like Seoul, it's best not to take any chances, if any for that matter.

I navigate down the bright streets with ease, thankful that my GPS is cooperating with me today. Within an hour of traffic jams and watching out for jaywalkers on the street, I'm pulling into the parking lot of the venue. And with Mrs. Park leaning against the hood of her car, she isn't hard to find.

Making a three point turn, I back up into the parking space next to hers, not up for the hassle of dealing with gold digger assholes who will want me to hit them with my car later. Seoul or the South, the bullshitty ways of the road aren't that different.

"Hey," Mrs. Park smiles when I step out of my Porshe, dressed to the nines in her black pantsuit. She tilts her head towards the venue, the twinkle of her diamond earrings catching in the bright streetlights. "You ready to go?"

I walk around to her side to retrieve my purse from my car, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Yes, ma'am."

She smirks, a knowing look in her eye before locking her car. "Let's go."

Eyeing her warily, I follow her to the grand building, the clicks of our heels echoing across the pavement. For a moment the silence around us has me worrying if we are late until I see a red carpet surrounded by paparazzi in the far distance. What the hell?

"What exactly are we attending?" I ask carefully.

"A press conference," She doesn't miss a beat, glancing over at me. "Don't look so scared."

"I-"

"Smile," She continues, smiling reassuringly, "Just be yourself."

Sighing softly, I nod, preparing myself for anything. I trust Mrs. Park a lot, but if her cheeky son is anything to go by, I might be walking into something right now. And I have no idea what is awaiting me.

The clicks of the flashing cameras become more audible as we approach, a dozen cameramen throwing questions at us at once. I just smile, making sure all my sides are my best side while walking down the red carpet. Mrs. Park dodges their questions with ease, falling into step with me. We enter the open double doors of the venue without a hitch and the sight on the inside takes my breath away.

Floor to ceiling windows occupy the spacious hall with rows upon rows of velvet covered seats and a chandelier sparkling overhead. The stage at the far back has the first set of burgundy curtains drawn, showing a microphone stand. What kind of press conference is this? The amount of seating astounds me, let alone when Mrs. Park walks us right up to the front row.

I have so many questions to ask, but I just sit down in the seat at the end of the row, on the left side closest to the stairs leading up to the stage.

"Are we early?" I crane my neck around, watching other sharply dressed businessmen and women slowly fill up the venue.

"No." Mrs Park shakes her head as the lights dim down, smiling knowingly. "We're right on time."

Before I can reply, something shiny catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face the stage, my eyes widening at the silver haired man walking out onto the stage.

"Good evening, everyone." Baekhyun's honey-smooth voice echoes around the hall. He struts over to the mic stand with a white microphone in hand, his Ceo aura and chosen outfit for the night taking my breath away.

He's wearing a sparkly black blazer with a black button-down shirt underneath, the first few buttons undone. The sleeves of his jacket have a glittery gold embroidery design shaped like a crown and there's a matching necklace resting around his shoulders, twinkling alluringly under the dim lights. His snug black jeans and heeled boots nearly have me on the floor. Pardon my French but—step on me please? 

I gulp, sitting back in my seat while Baekhyun commands the stage. He has the whole crowd wrapped around his finger with every charming smile and deep chuckle he sends our way. I graciously accept a glass of wine from a waiter and cross my legs, too busy admiring him to listen to a word he says. It's been a while since I've had the pleasure to see this kind of view.

Baekhyun continues to speak to the crowd, coaxing adoring 'ah's' and the occasional applause. I lose my sense of time the longer he gives his speech, idly swirling my drink around my glass. I've barely drank half of it by the time the event starts coming to an end.

"Everyone." Baekhyun's voice rings over the murmuring crowd, clasping his hands together over the microphone, a soft smile playing at his lips. "If I can have a moment of your time, I'd like to say a few things before we wrap up."

My eyes widen to the size of saucers when he says my name, holding a hand out for me to take. I look around, narrowing my eyes at Mrs. Park's smiling figure. The wink she sends my way tells me everything that I need to know.

Everyone else in the crowd starts looking around, some of them settling their eyes onto me. I take a final sip of my wine and slowly set my glass down in the cup holder next to me. With one last breath and a weary glance, I approach the stage, the clicks of my heels echoing around the room.

The closer I get to Baekhyun's beaming face, the more my heart pounds, butterflies erupting in my stomach. But the moment my cold hand is securely in his, all of it fades away. With Baekhyun, I know I am safe.

He smiles, looking me over with affection shining in his eyes. "Everyone, meet my girlfriend." He announces into the microphone, softly squeezing my hand and facing the crowd again. "She didn't expect to be here tonight..." He trails off, smiling sheepishly. "I'll probably be getting an earful later." He chuckles, joining everyone in their brief laughter while I shoot him a look that screams 'you're damn right.' "But for now," He continues, settling his sparkly brown eyes back onto me, "I have something important to say."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be standing here today." He squeezes my hand again, flickering his eyes back open to stare into mine. The warmth and undeniable love swirling within them sends my heart into overdrive. "If it wasn't for her patience, care and timeless, endless bounds of love." He sighs softly, smiling so sweetly while wrapping an arm around my waist before turning us both to the second set of curtains. "I wouldn't be here to present the newest clothing line."

The curtains go up and my jaw drops at the sight.

A huge glass container stands in the middle of the stage, showcasing mannequins wearing various articles of clothing. Soft looking blue sweaters, comfy jogging pants, black leggings with white embroidery flowers on the ends, and short jean shorts. There are over a dozen different clothes on display with the letter 'R' scripted on the front in beautiful cursive, but what really captures my attention is the red dress. Front and center. 

The backless, sleeveless burgundy mermaid dress covered in sparkly jewels from start to finish, twinkling prettily under the dim lights while spun around on its high-rise platform.

"This goes out to Riley." Baekhyun hugs me close, making me grateful that I'm facing away from the crowd when tears spring to my eyes. He smiles shyly while gazing at me with those warm brown eyes. "The woman of my dreams and love of my life."

I stare right back into those deep brown pools of love, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my chin from wobbling. Not able to take it anymore, I cup his glowy cheeks in my hands, pressing my lips to his.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

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: This was a mouthful, don’t mind me, I’m formatting the other 9k 😭💗

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings Ch. 8

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Maya got ready at her shoot as she looked at herself in the mirror and scrolled through her instagram feed to let time pass, searching Tim’s name in the search bar as she looked through as raised a brow at how many fans adored him and posted pictures with him and events   “Well damn, he’s wanted” she nodded impressed as she continued to read captions, not understanding most of them since they were in German, raising a brow as she saw heart emojis on captions “Too bad he’s mine”. She grinned as she saw more and more from men she assumed were his friends always talking about how respectful and hardworking he was in the business   She sat up startled from her lurking when she heard a familiar voice and sighed “Are you kidding me ? What the hell are you doing here ? This is a private shoot”    Marcel sighed as he stepped through and thanked the security guard “I saw you on the same company’s page who works hair and makeup for NXT, I put 2 and 2 together when I saw their stories and you happened to be tagged. I know, it’s very stalker of me”    “Extremely” she answered sternly as she covered herself in her robe “who does that ? This is my job you psycho. Once again, head empty no thoughts in that pretty big ass head of yours”    “I don’t even know what that means” He admitted quietly as he stood in shame in front of her “are-are you calling me stupid ?” Maya let out a breath as she shook her head “Kind of, now tell me why you’re here ?” she asked as she got touched up “and make it quick preferably, this is my work remember”     “What’s this I heard about Tim insulting you ? Why didn’t you tell me when it happened ? I’m gonna assume that’s why you were crying the other day at the store ?” he asked, giving a small nod when he saw her face look down at the floor “and yes, Walter told me everything so don’t worry you don’t need to go into details I just wanna know if you’re okay”   “I am fine, we’re all good” she nodded “I’m going to see him tomorrow, he has a match and he invited me”

  “What ?” he whispered as he looked up at her “y-you’re gonna go see him ? After what he did ?”. Marcel knew how much wrestling meant to him, how much he prided himself in his work. He knew Tim inviting Maya over was a big step for him in how he felt about her.

  “Absolutely I am, I wanna see him wrestle and how he is in that environment. I’m gonna assume you’re gonna be there too ?” Maya asked as they got her ready 

  “Yeah, we have a match too and well chances are Tim’s gonna introduce you to me so what are we gonna do ?”

She stiffened at his question and fixed her curls as she looked in the mirror as she slid off her robe revealing a one piece bathing suit with a deep plunge as she turned to look at him “If you think I’m gonna tell Tim that you and I had a 3 year long relationship then you’re dead wrong. No way I would ever tell him something like that at his workplace, so let’s get this straight alright ? Tomorrow you keep your mouth shut and you tell your little friends or whomever to not say a thing or I’ll have my other model friends put a word out that you guys like screwing around when you’re on the clock”

     Marcel widened his eyes at her look and tone as he clenched his jaw “Maya I-”

“Maya nothing” she snapped back “You really think I didn’t know ? You really think Walter also wouldn’t tell me that you tried to get Alex and Fabio or whatever the fuck his name is to tell Tim for you ? To do your...our dirty work ? He texted me everything just before I got here, how you wanted to tell Tim abruptly and then I’d have to deal with the rest. Alex ? Yeah did you forget I also helped his wife out with her bridesmaid dresses and got to know the both of them really well ? He sent me an instagram DM telling me everything too, basically apologizing for your shitty actions. You’re a spineless little coward Marcel, 3 years and you haven’t changed one damn bit”

  “I-I...it w-wasn’t like that” he stuttered out nervously stepping forward

“Bull shit !” she exclaimed as she slapped him across the face and breathed heavily

Marcel stood back as he rubbed his cheek and gave a frown as his blue eyes stared at hers “I’m sorry, I just….I still love you” he whispered as he left hastily

  Maya sighed as she rubbed the feeling back in her hand and let the makeup artist fix her eyes “Mickey, did you tell him I was here ?”

 “You try saying no to that piece of German goodness” Mickey shook his head “His accent came out and I melted, then he did the whole pleading puppy dog thing with his blue eyes and well, I was sold. I’m sorry Maya, I didn’t realize how big of an issue it would be. You really gave it to him good though, he walked away as if you stomped on his heart”  

“Yeah well I didn’t wanna do that exactly” she admitted “He’s just being sneaky and I hate it, it reminds me of what happened when we were in a bad spot”   

“Well I’ll tell you this girl, Timothy Thatcher is all man and would never do that shit to you” he giggled Maya raised a brow as she let out a chuckled “and how do you know I’m seeing Tim, what’s going on here that I’m not aware of ?”   Mickey smirked as he dabbed some gloss on her lips “Tim from what I’ve seen and heard is quiet but apparently he told some of the guys that you’re gonna go see him and he’s a little...giddy. Now I’ve been working hair and makeup there a while and I’ve been there since he got there and nothing has made that man do a complete 180 like you have”   She blushed as she listened and looked around the room “So you think he...likes me likes me ? Like he wants me to be his...you know ?”   “Girlfriend ?” he chuckled “oh yeah, I heard from Candice, who heard from her husband Johnny who heard from his friend Oney that Tim told him tomorrow was pivotal”  “Oh” she whispered softly as she walked with him “I’m not gonna expect anything though, especially after this whole fiasco. I’m gonna have a nice day with him tomorrow and focus on that. Now let’s get this thing done so I can call him”   “You’re just as whipped as he is” Mickey chuckled as he helped set her up ______________________________________________________________ “What’s with that face ?” Tim asked Oney “You’re red and you’ve been on your phone for like 5 minutes, Oney ?” he sighed as he walked over and took his phone and let out a tight cough “this-this from today ?”   “Yeah” Oney nodded as he took his phone back and put it in his pocket 

“Um all I can and want to say is….you are one very very lucky man Tim, very lucky”

  “I like her for other things besides her looks” Tim rolled his eyes as he grabbed his gym bag “she’s a good person, she’s understanding, she’s really smart and funny. She’s a great cook, she’s super funny” he chuckled “and she-what ? why are you looking at me like that ?”

  Oney grinned as he walked with him to the showers “You really like this girl, it’s not just a little rendezvous like you had thought it’d be. I’ve known you for a while and never have I seen you act this way towards a girl”

  “Don’t” Tim warned as he took off his shirt “It’s just that I like her and I feel she feels the same about me and you know that’s it”

  “So it’s okay if she dates other guys while talking to you ?”

“I never said that” he said almost immediately as he turned around “Why ? Is she ? Have you heard anything ?”

 “Chill out, I was just joking but point proven” Oney chuckled “I say you ask her out, officially like to be your girlfriend”

  Tim nodded as grabbed his things “I was thinking about that after tomorrow”

“I think you should” Oney nods as he looked around “oh look it’s Marcel, shit look at his face” he grimaced

  “What the hell happened to you ?” Tim asked concerned “Your cheek is red as can be, are you okay ?”

“We need to talk” Marcel said sternly “Alone, and it has to be now”

Tim nodded as he changed and followed him outside

   Maya arrived at her apartment as she exited her elevator and saw Tim standing against her door “hey” she grinned “what are you doing here ?”

  “So when were you gonna tell me you were engaged to one of my closest friends ? Or did you plan on keeping that a secret forever ?” he asked wasting no time as he crossed his arms trying his best to stay calm

  Her stomach turned as she blinked trying her best to catch her breath “I-I…. Tim listen, I wanted to tell you I did, I promise I did but things happened and then the Walter thing and I just couldn’t find the appropriate chance to do so but I promise I was. I promise, you have to believe me” Maya pleaded as she reached for his hand flinching when he yanked it back

  “I don’t believe a word you said, I don’t. I don’t even trust anything you’ve told me in the past, probably more lies from you. I’m not gonna insult you or demean you like I did last time because quite frankly...you’re not worth it” he said coldly as he stepped back “Have a nice life and don’t contact me again”    

 “Tim, please don’t do this” she whispered tearfully as she grabbed his arm lightly

“Don’t touch me” he responded quietly as he carefully lifted her hand and placed it by her side “Goodbye Maya”

  He left her apartment quickly, and didn't look back knowing if he saw her face he wouldn’t be able to leave. Once in his car, he wiped his eyes quickly as he turned on the radio and sped off back to his place where he knew he could release his emotions freely and privately

  “What did you do !” she practically screamed into her phone “You fucking told him !”

“It needed to be said” Marcel said quietly “I’m sorry, I am but we both know you were gonna wait it out too long and it would only make things worse. I did this for the both of us”

  “I fucking hate you” she spat out “and I will never ever speak to you again in my life, ever. You’re dead to me” she hung up

  Marcel rubbed his face as he threw his phone across his room and laid down in bed as he looked up at the ceiling and drifted to sleep, trying his hardest to forget about the chaos he selfishly created

  All eyes were on Tim as he entered the Capitol wrestling center the next morning, he heard and saw it all as he walked into the locker room. The looks of pity people gave him, the mumbles and whispers they gave each other as rumours about what had happened at the gym went around. None of it mattered, at least not to him. The damage had been done and if there was one thing that was hurting him other than his heart it was his pride. He knew deep down it had been kept for him for a reason, but the lying and deceiving still hurt.

  “Hey” Marcel said quietly as he opened his locker “Listen I won’t bother you but I just want to say I’m sorry about what happened and it's my fault entirely. Maya wanted to tell you after today” he finally admits “After your match, she wanted you to have a good match and then break it down to you on he own time and I selfishly told you because I still love her and in my stupid head I thought that once you knew and let her know she would somehow want me but instead she told me I’m dead to her”

   Tim nodded as he laced up his boots and didn’t bother to look at him “yeah well, that makes two of us. I don’t want her around me, I don’t wanna hear from her again or anything like that. It’s done and over with and we should just not speak of her again. She’s something of the past and well I’m not gonna hold your past against you”

  Marcel furrowed his brow “Y-you’re not going to attempt to talk to her ? She’s pretty sad Tim….”

“Nope” he shook his head “She’s the one who started this so it ends, I don’t like things like that and I can’t just let it slide by. Her choice was made to lie, so now we leave it at that please. I don’t care nor do I wish to hear about her again”

  “I understand” Marcel nodded as he put on his tracksuit and headed down seeing everyone glare at him as he sped down the hallway to catering sitting down by himself in a table and beckoning over Fabian and Alex “Over here guys”

    “No thanks” Alex muttered as he looked at him and turned around “I prefer not to deal with you unless it’s necessary for tv”

“Agreed” Fabian nodded

“I know it was a mistake okay, you can stop with the harsh punishment.I should have never tried to involve you two either and I’m sorry I did. I regretted this whole thing as soon as I opened my mouth and saw his face. I was selfish and it was wrong, can we just stop now ? Please” he pleaded “I hurt Tim, I hurt Maya, Walter isn’t answering any of my messages or calls. I get it now, I do” Marcel rambled “Please just sit with me, you don’t have to talk to me but just sit with me so I can at least have some company while everyone stares at me”

    “No” they both answered in unison as they shook their heads and left him alone

Marcel looked down as he played with his plate of food feeling all eyes on him as he tried his hardest to ignore the stares and whispers and took out his phone seeing still no messages or calls from Walter and sent one last message   “Hasst du mich jetzt ?” (do you hate me now ?) “Nein, nur sehr enttäuscht” (no, just very disappointed)

He sighed and put his phone away as he shook his head, upset at himself for what he had done but knowing deep down he didn’t regret it. Maya was his one true love, the one person who understood him and helped him cope with the loss of his father and deal with the emotions rather than ignore them and hold them in.

  “Are you gonna go after her ?” Tim asked nonchalantly as he sat with him “because you can, I don’t care”

  “What ?” Marcel asked his head shot up quickly

“Don’t act stupid Marcel, you still love her and I know you did this in a way to get me to be mad at her so I”d leave her alone and therefor you could go after her”

   He knew him so well, so well it truly fucked with him “Yeah” Marcel nodded “I let her go once and it ruined me and now she’s here and right now she wants nothing to do with me but I’ll give her that space and then I’ll fight, I’ll fight like I should’ve fought for her 3 years ago and this time, she’ll end with me” he looked in his older friends eyes “We’ll get that happy ending we both wanted”

  Tim simply give a short nod as he sipped his water “Then go ahead”

Marcel looked around as he got up and left back to the locker room, not wanting to cause anymore awkwardness between them and sat by himself as he listened to music

  “Well if it isn’t the life ruiner” Oney rolled his eyes as he stood in front of him “Are you happy with your actions ? With ruining the one thing giving Tim genuine happiness ?”

  “Oney, please” he rubbed his face “This is something you don’t understand, don’t get involved”

“You ruined the one thing my friend wanted, I’m sure as hell gonna get involved you traitor” he shoved him 

  Marcel sighed “Don’t do this, I don’t have the energy to-” he stumbled back as he held his eye and groaned

“You deserve that and way fucking more” Oney spat out as he left ______________________________________________________________    Maya wiped her eyes for what seemed like the 500th time as she once again got sent to voicemail and let out a frustrated cry getting up when she assumed her takeout was delivered “I said to just leave it at the door” she whined putting on her hoodie “stop knocking !” she finally yelled as she opened the door ready to rage “I clearly said-” her eyes widened at the scene in front of her “what the hell happened to you ?” she asked   

“Oney punched me” Marcel said quietly as he removed the ice bag he had and revealed a bruised and bloodied eye

  “Oney ? That’s Tim’s friend” she said as he remembered his face from the gym

“Yes him, he punched me in the locker room for….for what happened” he said quietly “I needed to get out of there and the only place I could think of was here. I know you hate me and wish I was better off dead but I just had to come. I’ll leave though if you want me to”

  Maya looked up at him as she opened her door and stepped aside “come in”

He stepped inside and sat down on her couch “I’m sorry, I am so so sorry” he whispered “I acted so selfishly”

    “What’s done is done” she whispered “You unfortunately can’t take it back, and truth be told you were right” she admitted “I would’ve just kept waiting and waiting to tell him and let time pass by, in a way what you did benefited me more than anyone Marcel, you did the hardest part and all I had to do was explain myself”

  He shrugged as he bit the inside of his cheek and looked up

“Don’t cry” Maya chuckled weakly “I’ve been crying since last night, and I’m positive I can cry for the both of us and this whole fiasco

  “I’m not” he blinked away tears quickly

“You’re doing the thing, the cheek thing and looking up. You really think I wouldn’t forget how you try to hide emotions after all this time ? she scooted over as she gently patted his hand “You’re the ugliest crier too” she joked trying her best to lighten him up

Marcel gave a light laugh as he sniffled “You’re really good that you know ?”

  Maya gave him a small grin as she dabbed his cheek with a tissue and got the alert of her food delivery “stay for dinner ?”

“Absolutely” he answered as he nodded. Sometimes life truly does work in weird weird ways.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

Daylight | Edward Cullen x Stark!OC

Chapter 1 | Hard Time Adjusting

"You gotta step into the daylight and let it go"

Summary: Delphina Stark, to be frank, is tired. After the events of the Accords are done and half of the Avengers are now considered fugitives, she moves from bustling New York to live with her mom in Forks, Washington. Wielding a sarcastic attitude and crippling self-deprecating humor, she somehow gets wrapped up in the supernatural world.

Word Count: ~4k

Note: Click here for the Masterlist for this series ♡ || Link for my tag list in my Bio ♡

Cold and rain, something so typical of this place, yet Delphina can’t help but scowl as she stares out the car window. The lush green trees from the forest that surround them zip past them, becoming nothing but blurs in shades of green and brown. Her forehead rests against the cool glass, the window fogging up wherever her warm breath hits. If she was seven years old, she’d excitedly draw little pictures on the window, writing witty things that only she laughed at, but she’s not seven anymore. Instead of bouncing in her seat, talking animatedly about everything to anyone who listens, she just sits in the car, barely moving an inch, as silent as a statue. Quiet music pours from the sterosystem of the car, an acoustic guitar and a smooth male voice easing the silence. Occasionally her mom sings along, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song. 

Delphina looks over at her, taking in her brown hair that’s been cut to her shoulders. Her eyes trace over her mom’s pale complection, a stark contrast to Delphina’s sunkissed skin. Her brown eyes focus on the road in front of them, a small smile resting on her lips. Her gaze moves back to the window, a small sigh leaving her mouth, creating a large cloud of fog on the glass.

Forks, Washington; easily one of the dreariest places Delphina has had the privilege of visiting. Rain always pours from the sky, threatening to drown the town and sweep it away until it’s nothing more than Atlantis. On the off chance the rain ceases, a thick overcast covers the sky, blocking out any chance of sunlight shining down on the city, bathing everything in it’s warm glow. And on the especially rare days where there is no rain but only clear skies, blue is tinged with grey and the sun is dim, not as bright as the summer days in New York. The town is small, with a population of only around 3,000 people, which means the high school can only have one hundred students, two hundred tops.

“School starts tomorrow. Are you excited?” her mom, Anna asks from the driver’s side of the car. It’s been two hours since the plane hit Seattle, an hour of that time spent in the car. They didn’t exchange anything more than small talk and pleasantries in the airport, Delphina too lost in her own little world, dreaming of grand adventures far from here.

“About as excited as I’ll ever be,” she mutters, taking a sip of her soda. It’s awkward and tense, Delphina not having anything to say and her mom not knowing what to say. It feels like a lifetime since Delphina last visited, wearing two pigtails and bright summer dresses she’d inevitably ruin, only ten and causing a storm. But she doesn’t wear pigtails anymore, nor overly bright summer dresses she’d ruin, but still causes a storm everywhere she goes.

“What classes are you excited for?” she continues to prod, either not realizing how disconnected her daughter is or maybe she did and doesn’t care. 

“The one with the books and the paper. Don’t even get me started on the ones involving pens and pencils. I’m getting giddy just thinking about it,” she says. A sardonic smile forms on Delphina’s face as her eyes continue to trace random shapes in the green-blue sky. Her mom reaches across the dash and smacks her arm lightly, the sound off beat with the music playing. 

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”

“Can’t help it, have you met my dad?” Delphina replies. 

“Unfortunately.” her mom replies while rolling her eyes. Delphina simply snorts but says nothing else. 

“You were the one that procreated with him,” she mutters, glancing at her mom from the corner of her eyes. 

“Yeah and now I’ve got to deal with you,” Anna says, a smile creeping onto her lips that are painted a soft pink.

“Lucky you.”

The silence surrounds them for a few moments, the sound of rain pattering against the car piercing through it. Delphina slips her hand into the pocket of her sweatshirt, feeling the smooth surface of the flip phone. She runs her finger over its smooth surface, feeling the indent from glass to plastic. And it’s comforting, knowing Nat is only a phone call away, ready to swoop in if Delphina needs her. But more than that, it’s a piece of her home as she’s being thrown into the wolf den.

“You’re hair’s blonde,” her mom says, glancing at her briefly before returning her gaze to the winding road. Delphina touches the tips of her bleached hair, a light silver that she decided on after the abysmal mess Season 8 of Game of Thrones ended up being. 

“Yeah, thought it’d look better,” Delphina says, dropping the strands of hair, watching as they limply fell, lying past her shoulders. She remembers lounging out in the main room, watching Game of Thrones with the TV on full blast, if only for the stern reprimanding she knew Steve would give her. And whenever he was on Earth, Thor would sit on one of the couches, enthusiastically watching it with her, despite not knowing what was happening. He’d cheer when Delphina did and get mad with her, even if he didn’t know why he should be upset when Daenerys burned King’s Landing. 

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence, the minutes dragging on until they reach the house, her new house. When they stop in the driveway, her mom turns off the car and the two of them get out and begin the slow process of unloading the things Delphina brought onto the plane. Her furniture and boxes already arrived two days prior, courtesy of her dad and expedited shipping. The process of unpacking is tedious and annoying, Delphina growing unreasonably frustrated with each passing moment. Her room here is much smaller than her room at the Compound so it’s like playing Tetris trying to fit her furniture. Delphina never liked Tetris. Eventually, she gives up, hearing the sounds of the front door opening and shutting, the old house shaking from the force, a second later unfamiliar voices filtering through the house. 

Quietly, Delphina walks downstairs, the soft sound of feet touching the carpet the only sound she makes. It sounds like two voices - a man and a woman. Upon reaching the landing of the stairs, she sees  two people standing in the living room with her mom. The girl looks around Delphina’s age, with mousy brown hair and a pale complexion that makes her mom look like a middle aged woman who fell asleep in a tanning bed. The man next to her is much older, probably her dad. He’s wearing a police officer uniform with short brown hair and a mustache that looks like something straight out of an 80s boy band. 

“Delphina! I was just about to call you. Come in come in, I want you to meet some people.” her mom exclaims, the smile on her face a touch too wide. The two people look over at Delphina as she apprehensively walks further into the room until she stands next to her mom, directly across from the girl.  

“This is Charlie Swan and his daughter Bella,” both of them smile at Delphina, the girl nodding when her mom says her name.

“Hey,” Delphina says, feeling the gaze of her mom that oozes with sugary sweetness, hiding daggers in them, silently demanding that Delphina play nice, if only for the next few minutes. 

“Hey,” the girl, Bella, mimics. “You’re going to Fork High, right?”

“Not like there's any other high school,” Delphina says. Her mom digs her elbow into

Delphina’s side, subtle enough their guests don't notice, but firm enough to get her point across. Bella’s expression falls the tiniest bit, glancing at her dad and Delphina’s mom before moving her gaze back to her, and Delphina feels a small amount of guilt set in.

‘Must be Capsicle’s influence finally rubbing off on me.’

“Sorry, yes, I’ll be at Forks,” Delphina says, painting the most charming smile she can force on her lips. And Bella’s smile returns, nodding her head again as she opens her hand, pointing it towards Delphina.

“Me too, I can pick you up tomorrow, if you’d like?” she continued. Delphina opens her mouth to decline, not wanting to interact with anyone more than necessary--.

“She’d love to.” her mom interjects smiling at Delphina, her voice too chirper to be normal. Delphina gifts her with a scathing glare, not enjoying her mom strong-arming her into making friends. “It might be good for you to have some friends your own age.” her mom says in a defensive tone. This elicited an eye roll from Delphina but she didn’t argue and a laugh from Charlie that he quickly covers up with a cough when she looks over at him. 

“Yeah, Bella could introduce you to her friends at school, they’re… interesting.” Charlie says. At the end of his sentence, he starts scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. The tension in the room between Delphina and her mom is palpable, so thick you could taste it.

“That’s a great idea! Now, I do believe Bella was kind enough to bake us some brownies, so let’s go eat dinner and devour those,” her mom exclaims, bustling towards the kitchen area.

Internally, Delphina groans as she drags her feet towards the dining room. She would give her left foot away if it meant she could be back at the Compound, locked away in her dad’s lab as she tinkers with anything and everything. Instead she has to endure as her mom plays host, pretending to not notice the wary looks both Bella and Charlie give her, like she’s a ticking bomb seconds away from exploding if either of them say or do the wrong thing.

                                                   o0o0o0o

After the most awkward dinner ever, Charlie and Bella leave their house, Bella telling Delphina she’ll be back at 7:30 am to pick her up. After helping her mom clean up, placing dishes in the sink and quickly wiping down the table, Delphina rushes up to her room, ready to go to sleep. She gets undressed and throws on some cotton pajamas, running through her skincare routine before eventually settling in bed, scrolling through her IPad mindlessly, doing anything and everything to avoid any headlines that involve the Avengers. A few moments later, her mom knocks on her doorway, standing in the hallway. She’s out of her clothes and in a sleep shirt and old leggings, wet hair dripping on the carpet with a bare face. 

“Goodnight,” she says. 

“Night mom,” Delphina says, not looking up from her screen. 

“Del, I’m glad you’re here.” her mom says after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah, I missed you,” she mutters, briefly meeting her mom’s gaze before her eyes flit back to the bright screen, enraptured by the cat video playing. She sighs and then another moment of silence passes before once again, it’s broken by her mom. 

“Look,  I understand this must be difficult with everything that’s happened in the past month --” her mom begins. Delphina’s mind snaps to the present upon hearing the words, already where the conversation is heading and not liking it.

“I’m gonna make like Kanye, and cut you off. I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, holding up one perfectly manicured hand.

“I’m serious Delphina, I know you were close with all of them, and now most of them are wanted criminals --” her mom pushes through like a charging boar going headfirst, seemingly unbothered by Delphina’s attempt at shutting down the conversation. 

“And I’m serious when I say I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice grows louder, completely smothering the words her mom said. She presses down on the lock button, her IPad turning off with a quiet click. She haphazardly tosses it to the other side of the bed, bouncing a few times before it settles in its spot. 

“Ignoring it isn’t going to solve anything,” Anna continues to argue, looking at her daughter with wide, pleading eyes. 

“And neither is this conversation,” Delphina says, throwing the plush duvet over herself, cocooning herself in it’s warm embrace, willing her mom and her prying question away.

“I don’t want to start this right now Del. Just know I love you.” and with that, her mom closes the door behind her, her footsteps slowly disappearing. 

Delphina lays motionless for hours, staring at the same spot in the wall, her mind a chaotic storm, sweeping away any sense and logic. Eventually sleep overcomes her, lulling her into it’s warm embrace, the memories fading away until all she dreams about is happier times. 

                                                    o0o0o0o

FORKS HIGH Home of the Spartans.

The wood sign in the grass displaying the high school name, like everything else in this town, is old and worn, the words nearly too faded to read. The school building itself is no exception. The brick building is larger than Delphina anticipated, different than the pictures she painted in her mind. The design is similar to the stereotypical school, the kind in all the kids cartoons. Bella’s orange truck pulls into a parking spot, near a white van with a group of people surrounding it. Her eyes scan over them, watching the three boys rambunctiously talk to each, pushing one another around, feeding into the small town stereotypes Delphina built up. The group turn to face the truck once Bella cuts the engine, the truck spitting loudly before finally shutting down. And Delphina has to force the scowl that’s forming on her face away, unwilling to further the rich girl stereotype, even if she perfectly fits into it most days. 

“Hey, Bella! Who’s that with you?” a blonde guy in a letterman jacket and jeans says to Bella as she opens the car door, Delphina following suit. 

“Hey Mike, this is Delphina, she’s new here,” Bella replied, gesturing towards Delphina’s general direction with her hand. The group immediately turn their attention to Delphina, watching her like scavenger birds about to feast upon a freshly rotted corpse. 

Gross.  

“Delphina eh? Interesting name, I’m Mike,” the guy - Mike - says, walking towards her with his hand outstretched. 

“Don’t touch me,” she says, effortlessly side stepping him and turning towards Bella. “I’ll see you later, I’ve got to get my schedule.”

“Wait aren’t you Tony Stark’s daughter!?” a girl in the group exclaims, her voice grating against Delphina’s eardrums. 

She doesn’t give them a response or any indication she hears the question, quickly walking away from the group. She adjusts her backpack and messes with the bracelet on her wrist, the metal is cold and smooth to the touch, bringing her out of her thoughts momentarily. 

Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. 

She wills herself to keep moving forward rather than fleeing like she wanted to, especially since everyone’s gaze is on her. She can see in their faces, the tilt of confusion, eyes alight as they recognize the daughter of Iron Man himself. The closer she gets to the steps that lead up to the school, the more people notice her. And despite the airs of arrogance she puts on, Delphina hates people looking at her, especially when they look at her like a tiny new toy to play with.  And for a brief moment, she considers convincing her mom to let her do online school rather than deal with any people. Or maybe she could run off into the woods surrounding the school, never to be seen again as she lives in solitude for the rest of her days.

Eventually she reaches the top of the steps, moving in the school building that brings a much-needed warmth to her chilled body. Her eyes scan the entrance, trying to see past all the people moving around, chatting loudly with one another. More students are inside, near lockers and other spots, seemingly enjoying the cold as much as Delphina did. She darts towards the wooden door to her left, the sign hanging over it reading OFFICE.

Entering the room, it’s relatively small with a few chairs pushed up against the wall. They face towards the counter that the front desk woman is sitting behind. And further behind her is another door that most likely leads to the office of the principal and the assistant principal. The woman behind the desk looks to be in her late 40s, with fine blonde hair, nearly as pale as her skin, that’s cropped short. She wears a pair of stereotypical receptionist glasses set on the bridge of her nose as she eyes Delphina with a look of interest. Thick red lipstick coats her thin, wrinkly lips, some of it smudging onto her face. 

“How can I help you today sweetie?” she asks, lowering her gaze slightly to get a better look. Her eyes burned through Delphina for a few moments, trying to determine if she knows her from somewhere. Delphina moves forward until she stands close enough to the counter that she can touch it and smell the strong floral perfume the woman wears.

“Hi, I’m Delphina Stark. I’m here to pick up my schedule,” she says. With those magical words, Delphina watches the woman’s eyes widen a fraction in surprise before she manages to semi collect herself. But she’s sitting up a bit straighter, her lips stretching into a grin that is a hair wider than a few minutes before.

It looks like the notoriety of her last name has reached everyone in little old Forks. 

“Oh of course! I’ll get that right for you, Ms. Stark,” the woman says, rolling her chair away and opening a filing cabinet. She rummages around for a few moments, before finding her target. She rolls back to where Delphina is waiting and places the sheet of paper on the counter, her long acrylic nails tapping against the countertop. Bright red, a bold color, yet so stereotypical for a secretary. “Here you go, dear.” 

“Thanks,” she mutters, turning to leave the room as soon as possible. Looking down at the paper, she reads her first class of the day, Biology. Glancing down at the map in her hands, Delphina begins following the vague directions, hoping to get there before class starts.

‘God knows I don’t need the attention.’

                                                     o0o0o0o

The bell rings loudly in the hall, piercing through any ambient noises and causes any lingering students to rush off. With a slur of curse words, Delphina rushes towards the door, that if the map is correct, should lead to her Biology class. Her footsteps pound against the glossy linoleum floors as she closes the distance between her and the door. She stops in front of the door, smoothing down her sweater and jeans, adjusting her backpack, and smooths her hair. With a final deep breath, Delphina opens the door, entering the classroom. 

The chattering that previously filled the room ceases once Delphina enters the room. The teacher, Mr. Molina is standing near his desk and currently faces Delphina, some papers in hand along with a pen. He smiles widely at her, in an attempt to ease her anxiety, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does. Each of her steps in the room is magnified 100x, the students watching her like a hawk. 

“Hello, Delphina I assume?” he asks, meeting her halfway, clicking his pen on.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she says, handing him the paper the front desk lady gave her. He quickly scribbles his signature and hands the paper back to Delphina. He turns towards his desk and grabs a book before turning back to her.

“Alright Delphina Stark, welcome to Biology! Here’s this book for you --” he says as he hands her the Biology textbook. “I’ve got a seat for you, right over there,” he continues, pointing to the only empty seat in the room. 

“Thanks,” she mutters, making her way down the rows of seats towards her new lab partner. 

When her eyes land on him, Delphina nearly forgets how to breathe properly, needing to make an effort to inhale and exhale. He looks perfect, like a sculpture from Ancient Greece with a beauty that could put actual gods to shame. His skin is porcelain pale, nearly glowing in the dingy classroom lighting. His copper hair is messy, like he runs his hands through it a million times a day, framing golden eyes that look like glittering gold. He’s boyish in appearance with a blank expression resting on his perfect face, clearly already bored with the class. An unopened notebook along with a pen is the only possession he seems to have with him. 

 His gaze moves up to Delphina, gold meeting blue for only a second, but it’s enough to electrify her, as he moves his eyes back to his desk, fist clenching at his sides ever so slightly. And despite Delphina’s best interest, her heart stutters for a moment, her mouth getting drier the longer she looks at him.

Like in a trance, she moved towards the table, her eyes moving from her mysterious lab partner, to the back wall, back to him, then back to the wall. She finally arrives at the table, pulling out the chair and sitting in it. The chair scrapes against the floor, pulling attention back to Delphina, but they quickly lose interest as the Mr. Molino starts to speak, droning on about onions or something. 

“Hey,” she says, not expecting a reply, if his sullen expression is anything to go by.

And she doesn’t receive one. The entire class passes by and he manages to not utter a single word to Delphina, doesn’t even breathe in her direction. 

As soon as the bell rings, signifying that class is over, the guy shoots out the classroom, disappearing from view before Delphina could even blink, leaving her mildly disgruntled, confusion clouding her thoughts.

“Hey, New York!” the voice of Mike breaks her out of her thoughts. “Why don’t you let me walk you to class?” 

And as she grabs her books and bag, she groans, doing everything in her power to dodge Mike while inflicting minimal injuries to him, not wanting to be sent home on her first day of school.

                                                    o0o0o0o

Tags: 

@stuckupstucky​ 

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Goodbye and Goodwill

This one of those filler episodes that, at first glance, seems to have a purpose, but then goes on to undermine itself and the greater story at every turn. 

Summary: In hopes of further uplifting the spirits of the citizens, Rapunzel decides to bring the Goodwill festival to Vardaros, but the citizens are not enthusiastic about the upcoming festivities until Cassandra presents daring and dangerous activities. Rapunzel and Cassandra attempt to work together, but they quickly begin to argue and disagree, resulting in them breaking off their partnership and planning their own separate events. However, Rapunzel notices everyone is more interested in Cassandra's ideas and attempts a reconciliation, but the competitiveness between them further escalates and Rapunzel prepares the final event, featuring both dangers and thrills. Eugene tries to help Rapunzel and Cassandra mend their friendship and handcuffs them together. Meanwhile, Lance and Hook Foot are in charge of finding a gopher for the final event, but bring back a dangerous Sneezeweasel instead

So Why Are We Still Here? 

No really, why are we still here? There’s no reason for this. Last episode we stuck around because there was a problem to solve, but here Rapunzel is just doing whatever crap she feels like doing instead of focusing on the problem. Which is a flaw in of itself because it undermines tension.

There’s nothing to push the action forward. There’s no threat nor danger to avoid or stop. The rocks are no longer a problem, there’s no villain left to challenge the heroes, and they aren’t on any timer. So why should we, the audience, care about this quest? 

Season two winds up being the most boring season because it’s 80% filler. You could cut out over half the episodes and you’d miss nothing of value. 

If the show writers wanted to do cutesy slice of life stuff that only focuses on the interpersonal relationships of the mains, then it shouldn’t have added an overarching plot with actual stakes. It also should have had a core well defined cast that interacted with each other instead of just focusing on a duo or trio all the time.  

The Very Existence of Vardaros Undermines Cass’s Arc

So Cass’s whole deal is that she wants to be a guard and, more importantly, wants praise and validation. Yet for some undetermined reason she can’t get that in Corona. Ignoring the fact that she very much does get that in Corona, (see season 1), you’re telling me that there was a whole city just waiting for a sheriff this whole time, one where Cass fits in perfectly and gets praise for being a tough guy, and is only a week away from Corona and her family, and yet I’m suppose to feel sorry for her for not getting off her butt and trying her hand elsewhere? 

She’s 23 years old. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself and, as shown during season three, she’s able to leave any time she wants. Yet the show tries to throw a pity party for a grown woman who only screws herself over by not actually trying. Yeah, no. If she had little to no opportunities or if there was something actually standing in her way, then fine, but that’s not what we get. 

When millennials like myself complain about not getting the jobs we trained for, it's because we live in a neoliberal dystopia that not only denies us opportunities and fails to pay us a living wage, but also places us in crippling debt just to get a chance to work these underpaid jobs. It’s not just us whining that we didn’t handed get what we want, it’s about survival. 

I’m not going to feel sorry for someone who doesn’t get her arse kissed as much as she wants when there are people who can’t even pay rent right now. In universe we still have a whole town that’s been displaced from their homes, children in jail, poor people being persecuted, and a city whose river has dried up and is trying to recover from an economic fall out. What Cass wants should not matter in light of these more urgent problems. 

I Understand What This Episode Is Trying to Do, But it Fails Because of Overexposure

So this is just a role reversal of Challenge of the Brave. It’s here to show the audience that Rapunzel isn’t perfect and that she can be just as petty and jealous as Cass herself. Unfortunately it undermines itself with three things. 

First, is because we’ve had this same argument before. Not just in Challenge of the Brave, but in practically every plot that focuses on theses two characters. We’ve spent more time showing why they shouldn’t friends rather than building them up to be good friends. I still have no idea why these two hang out together. Ergo, I’ve little reason to care if they’re fighting yet again for the millionth time regardless of who is or isn’t in the wrong here. 

Second, even when Rapunzel is wrong for once Cass still has to exacerbate the problem. Rapunzel came to Cass in this scene to apologize, only for Cass to pick a fight with her instead. Cassandra demands respect from everybody but can’t give even the most basic amount to anyone else, not even her best friend. So yes, Rapunzel is being a jealous jerk here, but I can’t root for Cassandra either. The point behind showing both sides are wrong conflicts is to make both sides relatable, not make the audience hate both of the characters. Why should I endear myself to two jackoffs who can’t show a modicum of basic human decency? 

Last, Rapunzel is only ever shown to be wrong when dealing with Cass. Raps is never called out in her mistrement of Caine, Varian, Eugene, Treavor, Dewyne, her own parents, ect. Yes, most of this is a season three problem specifically, but it shows the creators’ bias loud and clear. Their precious OC is the only character that they actually care about. She gets special treatment over everyone else, even the main character of the show. That’s bad fanfiction levels of writing that I don’t expect to see in a name brand show, but here we are. 

Even When Rapunzel is in the Wrong She is Still Validated 

Okay, so this is a call back to when Rapunzel threw Cass and Eugene into a jail cell during Cassandra vs Eugene. That was a very bad thing for her to do, but here is Eugene taking inspiration from that instead of actually acknowledging that what Rapunzel does is wrong. Also to further the bias on the show, the girls get onto Eugene several times for this, but of course Rapunzel never saw such push back when she did it. And to put the cherry on top of a shit sundae, this plan once again works. 

If you can’t figure out away for you’re characters to resolve their issues outside of locking them together in a room or forcibly shackling them together, then you don't have a good conflict and you’re characters don't have a good relationship dynamic. And this isn’t the first nor last time will have to deal with this crap. 

Nothing is Learned

We’ve already heard this same apology before and we’ll see it done numerous times over. Rapunzel is still going to keep on being a control freak and Cass is going to keep on putting her own ‘glory’ over others well being. And they’re both going to keep on fighting over petty validation all the way up until the last episode of the whole series. 

If you can resolve your conflict in a three minute conversation but keep dragging it out anyways while adding unnecessary and forced stakes to keep up the tension, then you just don’t have a good plot. The writers needed to go back to square one and rethink the entire bases of their story pitch, cause as is, there’s just not enough here to carry a three season long story arc. Not one that keeps the mains likable anyways.   

No, You Won’t 

We spent three whole episodes building up this town and introducing new characters and not a single one of them comes back into play. That’s poor time management and it’s once again a lack of set up and resolve. 

Conclusion 

The whole Vardaros arc is a waste of time. Outside of Adria’s introduction, which is divorced from the town anyways, I’d tell people to skip it entirely. There’s no point to any of it.  

[emwriterblr]

welcome to my world

part one

gif is mine, please don’t repost

word count: 2.7k pairing: javier pena x oc warning(s): rape mention notes: this is part one of my javier x oc series. There isn’t a lot of javi x oc interactions in this chapter, as I wanted to focus on her initial meeting with Steve. But I promise there will be proper javi scenes in the coming chapters.

The embassy was bustling with the usual activity.

With the new DEA Agent arriving today, there seemed to be a bit more of a commotion than normal. And that didn’t help the pounding headache Elena was experiencing. People coming from left and right, vouching for her attention on certain matters. She deals with the mass appropriately then another round comes along. Every part of her wants to scream ‘fuck off’ but this was her job. It came with it. 

By the time noon came around, Elena had managed to sneak to her office for some much-needed quiet. She sat down in her chair, mulling over the piles of folders and finished paperwork that needed to be organized. Elena checked her watch and decided against it. She wouldn’t have enough time. She pulled out the hair tie, her brown hair came out as a mess of waves. The tension in her head immediately waned. Maybe that’s what was causing her headache. Not even a minute later, there was a knock at her door, effectively halting her session. Glancing over, the sight of Javier just barely poking his head in would have usually made her snicker. But with how annoyed she already was, the only thing she could do was throw a glare in his direction. 

He didn’t seem to phased by it though. “You good?” His eyebrows raised in question and she merely exhaled a deep breath. He took that as the only answer he would get from her. “The new guy just got here.” He said, pointing his thumb behind him and waiting for her to get up.

God, she had only been here a few hours and she was ready to go home and crawl into bed. But she had a long day ahead of her. With the new tip Javier managed to get from his informant last night, she, Javier and their new partner will need to follow up on it. Elena leaned back in her chair, took in another deep breath then nodded. She began to mess with her hair, try and make it look more presentable, as she swiveled in her chair to face Javier. “I’ll meet you out there, just give me a bit.” 

Javier tapped the door frame once and nodded before taking his leave. 

Elena started to pull her hair back into a bun when she stopped, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulders. She figured having her hair down might help with the headache. She stacked all the files on her desk into a neat pile and finished the rest of her coffee before discarding the empty cup into the trash. “Okay,” she breathed out. Took a moment to fix up her jacket and then left the confines of her office. She was immediately met with the barrage of voices, phone calls, and fax machines. The noise attached her headache full-on, a wave of nausea followed soon after, almost making her vomit in the middle of the embassy. 

Running on a few hours of sleep with nothing but coffee in her system, no wonder she felt like shit. 

Elena felt her back straightened when she saw Javier entering the embassy with another man. She could only assume it was their new partner. He was around the same age as Javier, tall, slim with dirty blonde hair and an ever prominent mustache. She strode towards the pair, offering a smile when Javier gestured to her. 

“Steve Murphy, this is Elena Caro, she’ll be running this operation with us.” 

“Ma’am,” Steve greeted and stuck his hand out to her. She took it in her own, smirking faintly at the clear accent in his voice. 

“Nice to meet you, Agent Murphy,” their hands dropped down by their sides. “I hope you’ve settled in well.” 

“Save for the little gun show we were treated to last night.”

Elena hummed in response. It woke her up too. “You’ll get used to it.” She glanced down at her watch then looked back up at the men before her. “Well, the Ambassador is waiting for our meeting, so Javi,” she directed her gaze at him. “Should we show him around?” 

For the next ten minutes, Javier guided Steve through the embassy. Introducing him to the faces of the various departments. Elena followed the group while not saying a word. Enjoying the fact that Javier was doing most of the work. It wasn’t until they were heading towards the Ambassador’s office did Steve sneak in a small conversation with her. 

Steve slowed his pace, making sure that Javier didn’t notice. Once he was walking next to Elena, he barely leaned over and she met him halfway. “He seems like an asshole... given what I’ve seen.” 

Elena pursed her lips together, holding back a smirk. “Javi can be an asshole but you’ll learn real quick that the sons of bitches down here deserve it.” 

Steve nodded wordlessly. “How long have you been down here?”

“About eight months.” 

“And how did you fare with him being your partner?” 

Elena glanced over at Steve, an eyebrow raised teasingly. “I’ve been around men like him my whole life. It’s easy to navigate around him once you understand what’s going on.” She gave Steve a quick pat on the shoulder. “I think you’ll get the hang of it real quick.” 

….

The trip to Medellin was anxiety-inducing, to say the least. Javier had received a tip from one of his informants. The narcos were gathering for a meeting and with a high number of prostitutes being flown out, it wasn’t hard to gather what was going down. Helena, Javier’s informant, would try and get as much information as she could. 

Elena was stuffed into a small hotel room across from the meeting’s location. She was stood at the open window between Javier and Carrillo. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she thought about Helena. She doesn’t know the young woman well. She met her by chance as she was leaving Javier’s apartment the night before. Elena offered her a cigarette, they shared a few pleasantries and went their separate ways. Still, it was a dangerous thing to be an informant for the DEA. There was a deep understanding of informants that Javier and Elena agreed upon. That they should be protected in every way possible. 

Cristina, Elena’s first informant she met three months after transferring to Bogotá, ended with the young woman getting killed. It was Elena’s first failure. And the event that shifted her dynamic with Javier. They butted heads quite a bit early on in the partnership. Both had strong opinions that sometimes differed from one another. Banters were common between the two of them. But losing Cristina was a turning point. They grew a better understanding of each other, knowing they were trying to achieve the same goal. Capture Escobar. No need for them to argue with each other. No need for being on opposites sides. It was an unspoken truce that came to fruition. And Elena was glad for it. 

But the anxiety never waned. Once the meeting was underway, the team moved to a designated location agreed upon by Javier and Helena. And there they waited… and waited. One hour went by. Then two, then three. With each passing hour, Elena and the others grew antsier. Steve suggested that she might have bailed. But Javier knew better. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. The sun had already disappeared behind the city skyline and still no Helena. 

Javier and Carrillo left to find out where she was. Elena and Steve were told to stay put in case she did show up. While Steve was annoyed at being left behind, Elena didn’t say a word. She was Javier’s informant, no way Elena would get involved with it. Elena leaned against the car and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She pulled out a cigarette, placed it between her lips, and held up the pack towards Steve, shaking it to entice him. “We’re going to be waiting for a bit,” she said before shaking the pack again. 

Steve relented, pulling one for himself before handing the pack over to her. She pulled out a lighter, lit up his first and then her own. Steve took a large inhale, smoke billowing from his nose and mouth. The agitation in his shoulders was prominent as hell. 

Elena could only eye him curiously. Probably wasn’t expecting his first day here to be on the sidelines. “Would it be alright if I asked a question?” 

Steve pulled the cigarette from his mouth, gesturing for her to continue. 

“Did you come to Bogotá alone?” 

“No, my wife Connie came with me. I think you two might get along, I know she’s going to need friends down here.” 

Elena nodded, then smiled. “I look forward to meeting her. But you both pretty much just uprooted and came down here, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes staring down at the ground. “Yeah, we did. And you, how has working down here at embassy been for you?” 

A curious question really. Elena pulled the cigarette from her mouth and blew, “For me?” She smirked as Steve nodded his head. “Well, it definitely is a man’s world in the DEA. I honestly didn’t expect it to be any different compared to what I experienced in the states. It was hell in the beginning, the only person who took me seriously was… Javi,” a small beat. “And Carrillo, and I hope you will be apart of that small list too.” 

Steve didn’t hesitate. He gave a firm nod, “I can assure you I am already.” 

She nodded in acknowledgment. “In the eight months I’ve been here, I’ve definitely had to work twice as hard. There’s no room for error, no room for slacking. You know I see so many of the other men lounging around, thinking they can do whatever the hell they want. But I slip up, they treat it like it’s the end of the word.” She hummed to herself, then took a long inhale from her cigarette. “I have to pick and choose my battles within the embassy. Most of the time it’s not even worth it. I’m here to do a job. I was transferred here because I was qualified to help get it done. And that’s what I keep telling myself every day.” 

Steve silently regarded her, he could see the hint of dismay in her eyes. And he couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like for her. The amount of disrespect she must receive from people who were her colleagues. People she was supposed to trust. He could feel his shoulders tense at the thought. The day one of those men insults her in front of him, it would be the day all hell runs loose. “I”m sorry you have to deal with that bullshit.” 

Elena gave a casual shrug, she tried to make it seem like a big deal. But it was. And it affected her every day. “Comes with the world we live in, right?” It was a sad fact indeed. “I’m lucky I have the ambassador on my side though.” 

The car’s radio switched on garnering both Elena and Steve’s attention. The driver spoke into the radio for a brief moment, then slammed the side of the car door, speaking to them in Spanish.

“What did he say?” Steve asked.

Elena dropped the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. “They found her, we need to move out.” 

….

They arrived at a convenient stand a couple of blocks away. When they pulled up, there was an ambulance stationed on the side of the road. Carrillo was sitting at an outside table while Javier was leaning against the railing. Elena felt her stomach drop as she stepped out of the vehicle. Fuck, this wasn’t good. She and Steve crossed the street to join the others. 

“How is she?” Steve was the first to ask. 

“Sedated.”

“Is she gonna be alright?” 

“Physically yeah, but mentally I haven’t got a fucking clue.” 

Elena’s gaze moved from Javier to the ambulance just a few feet from them. She swallowed down the itch to go over and ask about how Helena was doing. “What happened?” 

There was no response. Javier couldn’t even look at her. He continued to smoke his cigarette, eyes focused on the ground. The slight tremor in his hand was a key indication that he wasn’t in the mood to discuss what he had seen. But Elena managed to piece it together. Her blood ran cold when she finally realized what had happened. Those pieces of shit raped her. “And what about the people who did it?” This time she directed her question at Carrillo. 

“Dead.” His one-word response was enough to somewhat quench the rage billowing in her stomach. 

“Good.” Elena broke away from the group and ventured to the concession counter. She pulled out her wallet, silently cursing when she saw her hands shaking. At least, Javier got to her before they could kill her. But what about the trauma she would have to live with now? The nightmares she’ll have to deal with. Fuck. She was glad the men who did this to her were dead. If not, she would’ve hunted them down herself. 

She asked for a beer from the man working at the stand and paid the fee. Out of the corner of her eye, Javier stood next to her, a newly lit cigarette hanging between his lips. She could feel his rage radiating off him. And she couldn’t blame him. It was justified. Elena took her beer and finally looked over at him, his jaw tense and still not permitting himself to look at her. Did he feel ashamed? Possibly. Guilty? Yes. After knowing this man for over eight months, she’s built up a foolproof guilt radar when it came to him. 

The longer he felt her eyes staring him down, his chest tightened just a little more. He didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t say that everything was going to be fine because it was bull shit. And expelling a false sense of hope wasn’t a stake he liked to pitch up. That usually came from Elena. She was smart, a hardened realist but still held a flame to having that sense of hope. Granted, it’s depleted somewhat since she first arrived. And while it wasn’t an ideal that he followed, he did rather enjoy it when it came from her. 

And they’ve experienced harsh downhill moments in the last eight months. This one was a little too familiar. 

Javier inhaled a long drag, his free hand leaned against the concession counter. From his peripheral, he saw her pop off the beer cap and take a long drink. Only then did he allow himself to look at her. Her eyes were quick to find his, she pulled the bottle away and wiped the bit that fell down her chin. Eyes glazed over and mouth parted open, she looked desperate. Struggling to think of something, anything to say to him. But she snapped her mouth shut. She knew that with Javier, sometimes the best thing to give him was silence. 

Elena broke their gaze, knowing that the two of them just staring at each other would seem weird to the others. She stashed her wallet into her jean pocket and turned to join Steve and Carrillo when she stopped. It still didn’t feel right. Leaving him to simmer alone like this. She tilted her head to look at him, his eyes staring down at the counter. Without a single word, Elena reached over and gently took hold of his forearm, her thumb rubbing small, soothing circles. She saw his eyes focus on her hand, not knowing of his urge to take her hand into his own. He merely closed his eyes and soaking in every second of it. 

A simple gesture that has been repeated by her several times. A silent token of reassurance that she was always there if he needed to talk. He never admitted how much he appreciated. But he had a feeling that she knew. 

Her hand fell from his arm, despite the Colombian heat, his arm felt cold and that sense of longing crept its way into his stomach. Clearing his throat, he barely glanced back over his shoulder, seeing her talking with Steve and Carrillo. Javier shook his head and stepped up to the concession window. A hell of a night and he couldn’t wait for it to be over. 

tag: @stevieharrrr​​ (message me if you want to be added!)

[courtingstars]

Notes for The Vanishing Prince: Chapter Nine

Yay, Chapter Nine is finally posted! As I mentioned over on Ao3, I’ve been looking forward to sharing this one for a loooong time. I don’t have much to share in the way of cultural notes, but I still had some pretty big things I wanted to talk about… Like info about the mental health topics from the therapy scene, plus a ton of rambling about things I’ve been researching and/or planning for a while. So if that’s something you’re interested in, well… enjoy? //laughs

As always, I updated the Pinterest inspiration board with images inspired by the new chapter. (I actually did that last month, which was when I originally intended to post the chapter before my schedule fell apart… So anyone who was checking the board during that time got an accidental sneak peak of what was coming next. Oops? ^^;) You can check the board out here.

And with that, on to the notes!

Cut for a writer babbling on and on about mental health research, references to earlier events in the series, and also violins (!!) …

Akashi’s Childhood Friendships

So the first scene of Chapter Nine features a headcanon of mine that has been popping up throughout the series… Which is that when Akashi started going to school, he attended a private elementary school that mainly catered to elite, wealthy families and their children. He was generally encouraged to spend time with his classmates, rather than seeking friends elsewhere, and he never made any close friends from a different social “class” until he started going to Teikou. (Which he joined specifically because he asked his mother if he could go somewhere that was different from his elementary school.)

As this chapter reveals, he never told his father about the friends he ended up making through basketball, because of the values he was modeled earlier in life. This was actually brought up alllll the way back in The Fast Train to Kyoto. (Though it was pretty vague!) In fact, Akashi referenced it in the very first scene:

Maybe it was the echoes of his father’s voice inside his head, just another series of frosty words he ached to forget:

“It is not for an Akashi to associate with just anyone. Your time is valuable, Seijuurou, and so is your reputation. See that you don’t waste it, on trivial pursuits, or persons unworthy of your stature.”

Akashi cringed. ‘Persons unworthy of his stature? What a ridiculous idea. Everyone he had ever known who had made his life worthwhile, had no particular wealth or rank to speak of. (With the crucial exception of his mother.) He had long ago discarded this principle of his father’s as nonsense.

I also explained the backstory with his elementary school and his struggle to make friends in a lot more detail in Chapter Three of Fast Train. (As well as why he decided to go to Teikou, and how he started making friends there, particularly Midorima.)

That aspect of his childhood turned out to be pretty important in the series, so I thought it was worth mentioning that Akashi did talk about it before… Especially since those early values still affect how he sees his friendships, plus it’s one of the reasons why he’s been trying to keep those friends as separate from his home life as possible. (Until Furihata came along and wanted to sleep over at his house, and he just couldn’t say no to his BFF, apparently? //laughs)

Attachment Theory, Disorganized Attachment, and Dissociation

So, uh… I’m not qualified to talk about any of this, like, at all. //laughs That being said, I’ll start with a big disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional, or an expert about this subject in any way whatsoever. So if anything I say doesn’t make sense or I get any of the details wrong, I sincerely apologize in advance! This is just based on the research I’ve done and some first-person accounts I’ve read over the years. As a non-expert, I find a lot of psychology theory to be difficult to research in general… Since a lot of the science is still being studied and verified, and things are becoming outdated all the time.

Okay, so with all that being said… In this chapter, Akashi’s psychiatrist brings up a theory in psychology called attachment theory. If you’d like to learn the basics of how it started, the Wikipedia article has a decent overview of the initial studies. Basically, the theory has to do with the idea that children bond with their primary caregiver (stereotypically the mother, but it doesn’t have to be) either successfully or unsuccessfully, based on how the caregiver responds to the child’s needs. A child who bonds with their caregiver in a healthy, successful way is said to be “securely” attached, while an unhealthy bond is an “insecure attachment.”

From there, it gets more complicated… There are a few different types/forms of insecure attachment, and these types can be classified in different ways, depending on the study. (There’s also something called “attachment style,” which from what I can tell is an idea inspired by attachment theory, that adults will have a general style of bonding that originates from their main caregiver bond in childhood. This idea is often used to help adults work through issues in their adult relationships.) For example, there’s generally an “anxious” form of attachment where the child is overly scared and tends to cling to their caregiver if they try to leave, out of fear that they won’t get the care they need. Then there’s an “avoidant” type where the child tends to push the caregiver away or ignore them, and can seem very apathetic and independent. (Even though they’re actually just as scared on the inside of not being cared for as an “anxious” child.)

As you can imagine, there are a lot of theories about why this happens, and what exactly in the caregiving process could contribute to it. What’s more, some children display both anxiety and avoidance… A form of this is called “disorganized attachment.” As Akashi’s psychiatrist explains, this describes a behavioral pattern where the child clings to their caregiver AND pushes them away, sometimes very close together. This style seems to often develop when the child has been through some kind of early trauma, often severe abuse or neglect. It also seems to be prevalent among people with dissociation disorders, which isn’t surprising, given the common thread of childhood trauma between the two. You can read more about that in this article here.

Actually, I first learned about disorganized attachment—and attachment in general—when I was reading a blog many years ago that was written by someone chronicling their experience with Dissociative Identity Disorder. As I researched the subject in more detail, I came across a few explanations about how children with this attachment style tend to act very confused and distressed around their caregivers, and I found the descriptions really sad… It helped me begin to better understand some of the difficulties that these children go through, and how it affects their minds when they’re still developing. It’s not hard to imagine how a child who longs to be taken care of but also has painful experiences of being denied that care (for whatever reason) can really struggle with trying to make sense of their reality and survive it on an emotional level. And that struggle causes lasting damage.

It’s important to note, though, that some psychologists will caution against assuming that a child’s attachment to their primary caregiver always dictates how they will attach to other people in their life, or in their future relationships. Also, there’s some evidence that children may struggle with attachment issues not just because of the actions of their caregiver, but also due to their own personality/ genetic predispositions. You can read more about both of these topics here.

Way back when I started planning this series, and deciding how to portray Akashi’s backstory, I found myself returning over and over to the concept of disorganized attachment… I wasn’t sure if it would make it into the fic directly, and it’s certainly not the only thing that influenced my portrayal of Akashi’s mental health. But it was definitely something I had in mind from the start, and helped shape the series, so I’m glad that I did end up referencing it in some detail.

The Akashi Family Servants

Since I just introduced the housekeeper, now seems as good a time as any to mention this… Originally, I didn’t plan for the servants who work for the Akashi family to have roles in the series at all? XD Takeda is the only one who’s mentioned in The Fast Train to Kyoto, and he doesn’t have a name. (I refer to him as either Akashi’s “driver” or “valet” depending on what he’s doing… This was actually before I’d decided that Takeda is the one who drives Akashi around when he’s in Kyoto. OTL) Then I mentioned several of the servants during Furihata’s visit in Storming the Castle… But almost no one gets a real introduction? Except for the butler, Ginhara. //laughs

One reason why I took so long to give them names/describe them is that I try to mostly stick to writing about canon characters in fics, instead of creating a ton of OCs. (I consider the families of the KnB characters to be canon, since they’re in the fanbooks. XD) But I enjoy coming up with minor characters, if it feels like a good fit for the story! Still, you can really tell that I didn’t know I would end up using these characters as much as I did, because their names are alllll over the place… Especially Takeda, which is roughly the Japanese equivalent of naming a character Mr. Smith or something? (LOL.) For a while I really regretted that I didn’t come up with a more interesting name for him, since he ended up being in this series CONSTANTLY. Also, I recently received this incredible comment on Chapter 5 of The Fast Train to Kyoto and it’s one of my all-time FAVORITES:

“Yo the drivers probs just sitting in the front like

Mmm this tea is piping hot”

(And they signed their name Yeet too, omgggg XDD)

… So yeah, I have decided this is totally Takeda’s reaction, to Akashi and Furihata’s whole “friend breakup” in the rain in the first story. //laughs

That said, I kind of love that Takeda has such a generic name now? Especially after he showed up at Seirin in sunglasses in this chapter. (Like maybe Takeda isn’t even his real name, because he actually had an exciting former life as a secret agent or something like that, and now he’s working for this super rich kid from a powerful family and maybe he’s actually hiding some epic skills so he can double as Akashi’s bodyguard if he needs to…? I DON’T KNOW, I HAVE WEIRD HEADCANONS.)

In any case, I enjoyed coming up with the characters for the Akashi family staff, even though it took a while! And I’m glad a few of them were able to play an interesting part in sneaking Akashi out of the house, so his dad wouldn’t find out about Furihata. (Though we don’t know what any of them think about that, or not yet, at least. XD) There will be at least one more member of the staff who gets an introduction, which should be coming soon. But for now, we’ve got:

Takeda, Akashi’s personal valet (and driver, sometimes)

Ginhara, the Akashi family butler and head of staff

Umagami Ichiro, Yukimaru’s groom

Inuyama, Akashi’s father’s personal valet

Hanamitsu Atsuko, housekeeper for the Akashi mansion in Tokyo

The Akashi family chef (name???)

(Plus some maids, who I also did not name)

… And as you can see, most of them still don’t have given names, even the ones with family names. That’s how disorganized I’ve been about this. //laughs

Also, I have a feeling no one was actually wondering (lol), but if you happen to remember this scene from Episode 63 in the Teikou arc in the anime:

In my headcanons, this guy is the head chauffeur for the Akashi family household, and he used to drive the whole family around. (Which would mean that he was also mentioned in The Fast Train to Kyoto, in a brief flashback about Akashi and his parents! Where he’s just “the driver.” XD) Now he mostly drives Akashi’s father to work, and sometimes chauffeurs Akashi as well, when he’s in Tokyo. (Whereas Takeda drives him around in Kyoto.) I briefly referred to him as Onoda in Chapter One of The Vanishing Prince, so… I guess that’s the name I came up with for him? //laughs

TL;DR… I’ve really enjoyed writing about the various characters who work for the Akashi family, and I had way more fun including them in the story than I expected. <3 (Maybe I should give in and post character sketches for all the OCs in this series sometime… That would be a project. XD)

Beliefs About Ghosts

I might go into this more in a future chapter, but I did want to briefly discuss how Reo talks to Furihata about ghosts, and how/why they haunt certain places… There are a LOT of different beliefs all over the world about whether ghosts are real, and why they appear. There are also lots of theories about whether they need the help of living humans to pass on or not.

For this fic, I tried to include some of the most common beliefs in Reo’s response, including the “revenge” ghost stories that are super common in Japanese folklore. But it’s not a comprehensive explanation by any means, and there are a lot of people who believe in ghosts and spirits but wouldn’t agree with the ideas Reo mentioned. (Basically, I had to pick among a bunch of different supernatural ideas about ghosts for the fic, and these are some of the ones I chose to include? But that’s not to say that they’re representative of my own beliefs, or of every Japanese person who believes in ghosts, either!)

The Akashi Family Curse (…?)

So I know some readers have been discussing this and making predictions about it in the comments for a while now… And while I don’t want to spoil anything about where the story is going, I’m really excited that I finally got to reveal another piece of the legend/rumors about the Akashi family curse:

Furihata’s mouth dropped open. It never occurred to him that some people might still think that the Akashis were cursed, centuries later. Or that these rumors were somehow connected to their catlike eyes. Was that maybe even how the peasants in the legend came up with the curse in the first place? Were they just creeped out, by this super-rare genetic thing that ran in the family?

Or… could it be true? Could the Akashi family really be cursed?

I can’t remember if anyone specifically connected the dots about the legend being connected to the “catlike” eyes or not… But if you saw this coming, YES YOU WERE TOTALLY RIGHT AND I AM IMPRESSED. <333

As for what the legend/rumors say about how the curse works, and whether or not it’s actually real… I guess I shouldn’t go into that just yet, for the sake of spoilers. XD But hopefully you can have fun guessing for now! And I’m glad I can finally point to the connection between the idea of a family curse and the “catlike eyes” to explain why I kept including so many passages like this one:

He and Akashi were walking through another long passageway. This one was lined with life-sized portraits—and oddly enough, Furihata recognized some of the faces. He had seen them in paintings in the Tokyo house.

“Are these your relatives?” he asked. They didn’t resemble Akashi very much. But a few did have the same unusual, catlike pupils.

Akashi nodded, as he glanced up at the huge frames. “They led the family, several generations ago. This one was my great-great-great-great-great grandfather.”

He gestured to the largest painting. The steel-haired man in the portrait wore a piercing frown. Even his posture was severe, somehow.

… Yeah, there are a BUNCH of descriptions in A Spark of Light of portraits of Akashi’s relatives, and how some of them have the same eyes as him. Also, as I’m sure a lot of people noticed, I mention Akashi’s eyes A LOT throughout the series. And this is one of the reasons why I wanted to emphasize it so much. XD

(Well, okay and also like a lot of fic writers, I enjoy pretty descriptions about eyes. XD BUT I WOULD’VE TRIED TO CUT MORE OF THEM IF IT WASN’T SUCH AN IMPORTANT PLOT POINT… Or so I’ll claim, anyway. //laughs)

And Finally… THE VIOLIN

Ahhh I’m so happy I finally got to post this scene! I’ve been saving the moment of Akashi playing his violin for Furihata for a loooong time… I foreshadowed it briefly back in Storming the Castle, when Furihata notices Akashi’s violin case sitting in his study. But I got the idea for this scene even earlier… All the way back when I drafted that part in The Fast Train to Kyoto, where Akashi plays his violin after he writes to Furihata to tell him they can’t be friends. (YES. IT HAS BEEN THAT LONG.)

So, yeah… I had no idea know how long it would take to get there, but I definitely knew that Akashi would have to play his violin for Furihata at some point. And I wanted it to be a Really Big Moment in their romantic arc. So I did the best I could with it. (Because, I mean… How could I NOT include a scene where Akashi plays the violin for Furihata? That just had to happen, come on. //laughs)

As I mentioned over on Ao3, I do have my own idea about which piece Akashi plays for Furi… I might even mention it directly in the next chapter, but I’m not sure yet? (Either way, if you have a piece that you’d like to imagine him playing instead, you have my blessing. xD I tried to write it in such a way that he could be playing a lot of different songs!) So here was my thought process on that…

I figured Akashi would probably decide to play something on the simple side for Furihata, rather than anything too technical/demanding on the ear. I also realized that he was probably thinking that Furihata would like a sweet, romantic sort of song, because of this scene from Storming the Castle:

“Oh, r-right.” Furihata let go of the flower. He managed a laugh. “Sorry. I’m being weird, huh?”

“I just never realized you had such an interest in roses,” Akashi said, with a hint of humor. “But it shouldn’t surprise me, really.”

Furihata didn’t follow. “Why’s that?”

The edge of Akashi’s mouth dimpled. “Well, you are a romantic, after all.”

And that was when I realized… ROSES. Like, what if the piece had to do with roses, because Akashi was remembering that conversation about Furihata’s romantic side that they had in his rose garden…? So in my head, Akashi plays a version of The Last Rose of Summer, which is this really sweet, old Irish song that was later set to a poem of that name, written by Thomas Moore. It’s an easier piece to play, so it’s a little difficult to find a nice version of it by a professional violinist. But I did find this arrangement that is SUPER old-fashioned and adorable:

And my personal favorite version with strings that I found (and linked first on Ao3) is probably this one. Though I believe the violin doesn’t start until around a minute and a half into the recording?

(My sister and I thought the first soloist *might* be a viola… Apologies if we’re wrong though!! We took band a thousand years ago in high school but didn’t play in an orchestra, so we’re basically clueless about anything with strings. XD)

Anyway, I just thought that the song would be fitting because of the whole “bonding over roses” connection to Storming the Castle, and the fact that they’re still on summer vacation in this story… Plus the words of the poem are kind of the most Oreshi thing I’ve ever heard??? It’s REALLY sad, but also all about friendship. You can hear how it’s sung and see the complete lyrics in this version by Charlotte Church if you’d like (again, the song starts at around 1:30), but I’ll also include the beginning and end of the poem here:

Tis the last rose of summer,

Left blooming alone,

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone.

…

So soon may I follow

When friendships decay;

And from love's shining circle

The gems drop away

When true hearts lie wither'd

And fond ones are flow'n

Oh! Who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

… TELL ME THAT’S NOT AN ORESHI KIND OF POEM. It’s all about friendship and being afraid of being alone, and I just… gahhhh. T_____T

Also, you might have noticed that the versions I linked don’t have any parts where the soloist plucks the violin strings, which I described Akashi doing at one point… That’s because I like to think that in between playing a simpler version, Akashi also slips into a few sections of Variations on the Last Rose of Summer by Ernst, which you can see the violinist Midori playing here. (Unlike the other versions I linked, this is one of the hardest pieces ever written for violin, period… Apparently it’s so difficult that many top-tier professionals won’t even play it in front of a crowd! So for those of you who want to picture him playing something more badass, I’ve got you covered. XD)

(And while we’re still on the subject of different versions… My all-time favorite when it comes to different instruments playing The Last Rose of Summer has got to be this one. BECAUSE IT’S A KOTO, LIKE OMGGGG YES. Honestly, if my series had a sound, I’d like to think that it would be this…? Because roses and traditional Japanese instruments, that’s why. //laughs)

Also, I’m not sure whether anyone was curious about this part of the scene:

Akashi chuckled as he unlatched the case. Resting on a bed of crimson silk was a delicately carved violin. Furihata didn’t know how to tell if an instrument was well made, but he was pretty sure that this one had to be.

So I do indeed headcanon that Akashi would have a really nice violin… For those who might not know, violins can be EXTREMELY expensive, most notably at the professional and soloist quality levels. As in, the famous Stradivarius violins are valued at $10 million or MORE, for example. XD Though I personally tend to think that Akashi probably wouldn’t play a Strad himself… He’d have too much reverence for the instrument for that. //laughs (Although I wouldn’t be surprised if his family owns a Stradivarius and lends it out to some world-famous soloist… Which is apparently how it works in real life, by the way!) But I still imagine that his violin would be a super fancy one, maybe somewhere in the $100k range or something? (And now I’m just imagining Furihata finding that out and freaking out, lol.)

And last but not least, since I’m already rambling a lot, I would like to credit a new favorite YouTube channel of mine that I discovered while writing the violin scene… I really wanted to make sure that I described the violin playing correctly, because like I mentioned, I understand nothing about stringed instruments whatsoever. (I was a very mediocre flute player, once upon a time. //laughs)

So while I was hunting for references, I stumbled across TwoSet Violin, and OMG THEY ARE THE COOLEST CHANNEL EVER. I’d recommend them to literally everyone, even if you don’t play the violin or have any interest in classical music! They’re two professional violinists from Australia who make tons of super-entertaining content, like analyzing the way actors pretend to play instruments in movies and Chinese dramas, or trying to play the cheapest violin they can buy on Amazon. And it’s FANTASTIC. XD They’re super skilled and funny, and they even inspired me to listen to classical music again, so yeah, I can’t recommend them enough. <3

Well, this post turned out a lot longer than I expected…? //laughs In any case, I hope it was interesting, and thank you for reading! And as I said over on Ao3, thank you again to all of my lovely readers for your patience, especially while I dealt with my grandmother’s passing. I have the next chapter of the fic drafted, just like last time, but it does have some issues so I’m not sure how long it will take to edit. (Hopefully less time than this one did. OTL) I’ll definitely do my best to post it as soon as I can. In the meantime, I really hope everyone is staying safe, and see you then!

[captain-s-rogers]

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part One

Master List Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 1,900 Warnings: none? A/N: Debuting for OC Day 2020! Here’s the first part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

Rockefeller PR firm. Though not connected to the famed family by any means, legend had it the J.D. Rockefeller himself had hired the founding members to handle his public relations in the very early success of the family. As a show of gratitude, in addition to a substantial cash and client flow, Mr. Rockefeller had allowed the firm to use the family’s prosperous name.

Anyone who was anyone in New York City knew of and often employed Rockefeller PR. The firm put on benefit events like they were going out of style, constantly hosting galas and banquets for one charity or another. Of course, with the guest lists for the events most often restricted to Manhattan’s elite, the donations poured in left and right. The firm had reached their renowned status as the most profitable and most charitable over the years. 

In more recent years, Sophia Hawkins and Lucy Cleveland had made names for themselves as the firm’s most successful representatives. That success had given the clout they needed to swing an event entirely different from anything the firm had done in a long time -- possibly ever. 

For starters, this event wasn’t being held to raise funds for an art gallery or secure investors for a corporation. This event was being held to raise funds to donate to several different organizations that supported the US troops and veterans. Not to mention, the event was made open to the public -- another component which had never been a part of a Rockefeller PR event. The thing was 1940s USO; everyone who showed up to attend the event was required to dress accordingly and make a donation at the door, in addition to their purchased ticket, of course

Both Sophia’s and Lucy’s grandfathers had fought in World War II, which had been Sophia’s inspiration for the idea. The firm’s executives hadn’t been keen on the idea when the two women first presented it, but between the excellent publicity that would come from supporting the troops and veterans, and the girls’ track record of successful events, convincing them to endorse the event hadn’t taken but a few minutes.  

The night of the benefit arrived, with a line forming out the door a couple of hours before the designated start time. Sophia and Lucy were dressed to the nines, double checking that everything -- from the menu to the music -- was in order. The servers were dressing in period-appropriate waiter and waitress uniforms, and the trio of women singing were emulating a 1940s singing group to a T. While the musical act ran through their era-specific setlist, Sophia and Lucy shined up the finishing touches on the decor. 

“Soph!” Lucy called out across the banquet hall, “do we need to alter the table settings? Caitlyn still has place cards for high-profile clients set out.” 

“We can just toss the cards, since there’s no guest list and we’re closing the doors as max capacity,” Sophia replied, already plucking name cards from a nearby table. 

“Do we have enough food?” Lucy continued. 

“We’ve got the chefs cooking for one-hundred-fifty and there’s one-hundred seats. I think we’re okay,” Sophia smiled. “Calm down, Luce. Everything is going according to plan. Nobody can plan like we can.”

Finally, Lucy was able to calm down. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” 

The women smiled at each other; everything was going to be perfect. Despite Lucy’s worries, they were well aware that this had been one of the smoothest events they had ever planned. Not having to please a bunch of snobby clients made the process a breeze. 

With only a few minutes to go, Sophia and Lucy decided they were happy with the state of things. After a short breather, they told the doorman to begin letting guests in the hall. 

Manhattan’s elite mingled with some lesser known citizens, filling the room and milling about the dance floor with freshly served drinks. The two event planners flitted about, adjusting table placements as necessary, making sure the food and drinks stayed well-stocked. The turnout was set to be huge, and within ten minutes of the doors opening, the hall was filled to capacity. 

Once everyone had found their seat, Sophia made a brief yet spectacular speech welcoming everyone and thanking them for their donations -- with the total amount to be named later in the evening -- the musical act took to the stage. Drinks continued to flow, the appetizers were served, and the nostalgia of the songs pulled a few couples to the dance floor. Sophia and Lucy stood at the back of the room, admiring their handiwork. 

“Ya know, Soph, I think we did a good job with this one,” Lucy mused, accepting a martini from the bartender.

“I think you’re right,” Sophia agreed. She sipped wine from the glass in her hand and took another cursory glance over the room, ever vigilant for any little thing that might go wrong. 

“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” Lucy added. “And, speaking of a good time, I do believe that gentleman in the corner is eyeing you. He has been all night.”

Sophia choked her drink. “You’re kidding, right? Lucy, tonight is not the night for your games, friend.”

“I’m not playing games,” Lucy laughed. “See, over by the band? Tall, blond. Might have to call the doctor, since he’s been nursing that beer for over an hour. But, yes, friend, he keeps glancing over at you.”

“I think you’re full of shit,” Sophia mumbled, though she looked somewhat hopeful as she threw a casual glance in the direction Lucy had indicated. She locked eyes with the man Lucy had nodded toward. 

“Still think I’m full of shit?”  

Sophia scoffed, shaking her head before she downed the rest of her wine and set the glass on the bar. Yes, she had been hopeful seconds ago, but this man was beyond handsome -- and she was on the clock, to boot. 

“Go, talk to him!” Lucy urged.

“Not a chance, Luce. We’re working, remember?” 

Before Lucy could come up with a suitable response to change her friend’s mind, the man in question started towards the two women. When he was close enough for them to see he was, for certain, headed in their direction, Lucy whispered a quick ‘good luck’ in Sophia’s ear, then made herself busy checking on the status of supper.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man began, “but are you Sophia Hawkins?”

Sophia nodded. “I am. Can I help you with something?

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduced, extending a hand. When Sophia slipped her hand into his for a confident but cautious handshake, he continued.  “I wanted to thank you for coordinating this event. It’s a great cause, and I’m very impressed with the level of authenticity.”

Sophia faltered for a moment, running through her mental files so could explain the familiarity of his name. She recovered quickly, pasting a polite, professional smile on her face. 

“We did our best to make it as authentic as possible. My grandfather and great uncle were in World War II, and my co-planner, Lucy’s grandfather was in the war, as well. We were able to find a lot of photographic evidence to go off of.”

Steve hesitated, casting an uneasy glance at the ground before meeting her eyes again. “Yeah, my grandfather was in the war, too. I think he would appreciate how well you pulled it all off.”

“Why, thank you,” she smiled. They stood in silence for a moment, and Sophia noticed the authentic detail of the Army uniform Steve was wearing -- even with the best costume designers, nothing they had provided for the waitstaff or singers was this authentic. The longer she looked, the more familiar the uniform seemed. 

Steve met her eyes. “Everything all right?”

Sophia nodded and quickly dismissed the strange familiarity as something she had seen in her own family’s photos. “Is the uniform your grandfather’s?”

Again, Steve hesitated, almost as though he was looking for the right words to answer an otherwise easy question. “It was. Found it in my mother’s attic before the event. Since time-period attire was required, seemed like the uniform was the way to go.”

“It suits you,” Sophia smiled. She turned away for a moment to ask the bartender for another glass of wine. 

Steve quickly took a sip of his beer while he waited for her to return to their conversation. He looked around the room, catching sight of the dance floor; a warm blush creeped over his cheeks and down his neck. The tempo had changed from upbeat and quick to slow and steady. A surge of confidence swelled in his chest, pushing him to act on impulse. Steve finished off his beer and set the bottle on the counter, then extended his hand to Sophia again. 

“Forgive me if I’m out of line, but would you like to dance, Ms. Hawkins?” Steve asked.

Sophia’s blush matched his as she turned to set the wine glass on the bar. She accepted Steve’s hand. “Call me Sophia, and I’d love to dance.”

The couple eased into a simple waltz as the music began to build from the first verse into the bridge of the song. They danced in silence through the chorus, concentrating on the steps before changing focus to each other. 

“You told me about your family, but what made you decide to do an event open to the public? I’ve been told your firm generally caters Manhattan’s high-status citizens.”

“We do, you’re right,” Sophia confirmed. “Lucy and I have done so many of those, we wanted to do something different. We were looking through old family photos together one night, just for fun, and the idea to do a benefit for the military came to us. The USO theme followed.”

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” Steve smiled, “but you did a really fantastic job.”

Sophia showed her appreciation for his compliment with a modest smile. When the song ended, though she was reluctant to do so, she thanked Steve for the dance and turned to return to the bar.

“Sophia?” he called, gently grabbing her wrist to keep her from getting too far..

She turned to face him, brows raised in question. “Mm?”

“Would you want to get dinner some time? Maybe get to know each other better. Sometime when you’re not working.” 

Sophia didn’t bother to stop the ear-to-ear grin that spread over her face. “I would love that.” 

A pen was handy in the pocket of her dress, since she was, in fact, working. She took Steve’s hand again and jotted her number across his palm. She clicked the pen before putting it back in her pocket. 

“I’ll call you in a few days,” Steve promised. “We’ll work out the details.”

“Sounds good.” Sophia nodded and winked at him. She turned to walk away, this time looking over her shoulder to add, “Thanks for the dance, Captain.”

He froze for a moment, fearing that Sophia was aware of his full identity. Her eyes glanced to the patches on his jacket before she turned away from him; that had been what tipped her off to the rank. When she was back at the bar and conversing with her friend, Steve looked down at the phone number written across his palm. With a suppressed but victorious smile, he worked his way back into the crowd.

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @growningupgeek​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @kitkatd7​ @patzammit​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @what-is-your-plan-today​

[smokeybrand]

Rise of the Skywalker

This sh*t with Lucasfilm is wild to witness. I’m not really one to buy into entertainment gossip but i am emotionally invested in Star Wars. I’m an Eighties kid, man. Star Wars helped to shape our childhood growing up. Vader is one of my all-time favorite antagonists. Ahsoka has grown to rival him in my heart as a beloved character. As a cat who creates, myself, i can’t help but adore the passion and creativity i n the entire world lore around the Skywalker legend. I mean, look at everything built around those first three films. Just taking Legends into account, you have the absolutely excellent Shadows of the Empire and the Thrawn trilogy. More than that, and probably one of the best game franchises ever realized, you have The Knight of the Old Republic. F*ck, dude, Revan? Nihilus? Bastila? Kreia? HK-47? This is Bioware at it’s finest, save Mass Effect 2. And then Disney cam in and f*cked it all up.

Kathleen Kennedy has been a poison to the franchise, and not because of her identity politics. Look, you can work in your ideals and messages without being so goddamn heavy-handed with it but this chick, and her “writer’s group.” can’t craft a story to save their lives. That’s the problem here. Not Rey or Finn or Poe. Not Holdo or Rose Tico. Not even Snoke. It’s how these characters were presented, it’s how the writing shaped them. I’ve written at length about how Rey was a missed opportunity and, according to the original leaked treatment, that misstep was more like an outright face-plant The Rey that was to grow throughout the Sequel trilogy, culminating in a battle between a fully realized, Jedi Knight Rey and a fully realized Sith Lord Ren, should have been the Last Jedi we got. Instead, we got what we got and it shattered the credibility of the entire franchise. Star Wars, the most successful franchise in cinematic history until the MCU came through, was on life support. Forty years of solid, narrative storytelling, ancillary material, and fan passion, squandered because the chick in charge wanted to instill everything with her identity politics, using something she had no creative credit toward, co-opting the shine of another, to secure her legacy. And she did just that; Kathleen Kennedy was the person who almost killed Star Wars. Kennedy’s legacy of failure, secure. But then, a new hope. Jon Favreau, the progenitor of the MCU, stepped forward and saved Star Wars with his show, The Mandalorian.

John Favreau is a great creator. Dude not only gave us Iron Man, but Chef, Swingers, and Elf. He gets the content but, more than anything, Favreau understands how to craft a goddamn story. He was appointed to The Mandalorian and given creative control by, at the time, CEO of Disney, Bob Iger. Favreau, in partnership with the genius pariah, Dave Filoni, architect of Star Wars: Clone Wars, Rebels, and the best f*cking character created in the modern era, Ahsoka Tano. With theses two at the helm, Mando returned to the true essence of a Star Wars tale. They created their own pocket universe, one with the evolution of the Mandalorian culture and sprinkled with shenanigans of an adorable, and marketable, Baby Yoda. That first season gave us amazing characters like Din Djaran, Cara Dune, Greef Kaga, and Moff Gideon. That first season of Mando saved the franchises and that is not an exaggeration. It felt like Star Wars. The characters were rich and developed. More than anything, the stories told were absolutely excellent. The funny thing about that? Mando isn’t expected to succeed like it did. No, everyone, including Kennedy, thought it was going to fail. She fought, tooth and nail, against what Favreu was trying to created, sabotaging him at every turn. But he was able to complete his show and the fandom received it with utmost fervor, eclipsing anything Kennedy and her idealouges every created. Then season two dropped.

I’m not going to sit her and say that the narrative for Season two was better than the first. It wasn’t. But that’s because season two of The Mandalorian was a love letter to the fans. Favreau and Filoni had a hit on their hands with Mando and, more importantly, they made Star Wars profitable again. This gave the two of them a margin of creative freedom that expanded into something truly marvelous. That second season of Mando was able to dig deep into the lore, introduce fan favorite characters like Ahsoka Tano and Bo-Katan Kreyze, reintroducing Boba Fett while giving him a bad-ass second in Fennec Shand, while expanding the universe for spin-offs and delivery a franchise altering return of a Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker! Kennedy spent her entire sequel trilogy, discrediting and marginalizing the old trilogy, typified by the complete destruction of Luke in The Last Jedi, only for Mando to overturn, redeem, and empower Luke with a two minute gauntlet of Force awesomeness that rivaled the utter dominance displayed by his father at the end of Rogue One. That tidbit about Vader? Yeah, Kennedy fought against that, too. The Mando came through and proved that fallowing Lucas’ path was the true way of the Star War and Chepek agreed. We now have this entire blueprint of shows birthed from this one season, that will build toward an Avengers-level event. Ahsoka, Rangers of the New Republic, and The Book of Boba Fett will all culminate in a cinematic experience, most likely a theatrical film, based around Thrawn. And, more to the point, people are excited about this sh*t. People are looking forward to this sh*t. People want this sh*t. What they don’t want is more of Kennedy’s politics and bullsh*t hot-takes, masquerading as Star Wars canon. Case in point, the abject failure of The High Republic.

Before Favreau and Filoni came through and saved Star Wars, Kennedy had this entire idea for a full-on Star Wars universe, built upon token diversity and f*cking Space dinosaurs. There was a pitch meeting that showed a literal checklist and story was the third or fourth option. How the f*ck is story not the first thing on the list for an actual narrative you’re writing? Why the f*ck isn’t the Writer’s group, not putting story first, in a narrative they’re constructing by committee? That is the genesis of The High Republic. In the time that Youtube preview hit the fandom with all the force of a wet fart, Mando came through and proved no one wants that sh*t. Then season two came through and rived people want more Luke and more Lucas Star Wars, weeks before The High Republic, the jumping off point for Kennedy’s original vision for “New Star Wars” was supposed to launch. Yeah, that launch ain’t go so well. The High Republic is out, right now, and you can buy it. No one is buying it. They’re all paying for Disney+ memberships to watch Mando sh*t on everything Kennedy has done or will do. Disney announced a whole slate of Star Wars shows and material. One of which is The Acolyte, a spin-off from The High Republic tarring Brie Larson and written by Leslye Headland. The Acolyte is going to bomb for the same reasons The High Republic is bombing; No one wants to be preached to and that’s all these woke, blue hairs, want to do. I know that because they’ve told you as such.

The Force is Female. All of that sh*t with Pablo Hidalgo. The recent controversy of Justina Ireland telling people not to buy The High Republic if they don’t agree with her politics. The fact that Kathleen Kennedy has been trying to get Favreau fired for “sabotaging” her High Republic launch by redeeming Luke and galvanizing the entire fandom. The thing about this, though, is the fact that everything Kennedy has crated, is creatively bankrupt. Everything Favreau and Filoni have built with Mando, has been genuine, organic, and fun. Just to be clear, i actually like Brie Larson. I think she’s an excellent actress with very valid opinions. I think the sh*t she wants to make should be made. I don’t think she should co-opt a long running franchise with decades of lore and a ravenous fandom who are already on the outs with the current management of their beloved franchise. I can’t say i like Headland but i did adore her Netlfix show, Russian Doll. that sh*t was hilarious and dope. I don’t think her type of film making lends itself to Star Wars, however, for he same reason i don’t think Larson should have a show in the fandom either. Having opinions is fine. Installing those opinions in your writing is fine. Installing your opinions in an established property is not fine. You can do that, Back Panther was able to integrate that sh*t successfully, but they did it nuance. It didn’t get clumsy and ridiculous until the end. Kennedy’s writing group started with the awkward preaching. Those weren’t the droids yo were looking for, bro.

Ultimately, The High Republic is going to fail, as will the rest of Kennedy’s Star Wars legacy. Favreau is already working toward altering her most precious OC, Rey Palpatine. There are plans in the works to make her a Kenobi going forward, redeeming the most egregious of Darth Kennedy’s transgressions, something that wouldn’t even be necessary if they had followed the original treatments JJ left for them going forward. Rey Palpatine should have been Rey Skywalker. She should have been Luke’s daughter. She should have been trained by her pops and took that discipline into the final film where she and her cousin would have a proper reckoning. Rey should have been a proper character with an established legacy. Kennedy decided otherwise and in that hubris, she failed. She has failed, not because she is a Femanzi or has an eye toward activism or an agenda to push. Kennedy has failed because she decided to heavy-handedly force those politics down our throats with no nuance or grace, by slighting everything that came before with malicious intent, while bolstering her analogous creations with the worst kind of writing and non-existent development. Favreau succeeded by weaving a compelling tale, that mirrored the Hero’s tale which has been the bread-and-butter of a great Star Wars narrative, filled it with realized characters who became fast fan favorites, staunched in the lore that came before. He respected the genesis and built something great from it, while revering the stuff which came before. Kennedy thought she was bigger than the franchise. Favreau understands he is in service to it. That’s the difference, That’s why Mando is succeeding and The High Republic has been laid low.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter six

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none, just finally able to introduce Hoseok in this chapter lol

Word count: 5299

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi’s eyes scan the weekly announcement email, not truly interested, yet still giving himself time to be thoroughly knowledgeable of upcoming events for his newfound colleagues and the company as a whole. Mentions of renovation in the lobby, a new coffee machine to be installed on the production floor along with a request to be more mindful of how this one is used, and the schedule for the practice rooms for the month remains unchanged for the last few weeks of January. Highlighted at the top of the email is the name of a mini album set to be released the first week in February along with parentheses beside it stating who would be releasing it: Park Jimin.

Reclining back in his seat, Yoongi regards the blue font notice in silence, wondering for a passing time of his involvement in the corruption between Jimin and you. He knows it’s not his fault, and knows you do too. Yet, there’s still guilt seeing Jimin’s name or hearing it anywhere. Still guilt felt in grazing his thumb against his index finger as a fidget when on the four dates so far where you’re forced in one way or another to recall Jimin’s existence. Yoongi has not apologized about it since the first date, but it doesn’t change that he feels like he should if only to assure you that the hurt you try and hide each time doesn’t need to be hidden for the atmosphere’s sake.

The foot on the floor pushes his desk seat into a small back and forth sway. He doesn’t think of your mutual problems often, just reminded every time an email requests the two of you go on a date, like the one to come that evening. By this point you’re both amicable at least, even going on the limb of saying something like friends. Maybe. It’s hard not to when you’re both forced into two or more hours of conversation. It’s something like friendship. Maybe closer to friendly coworkers. He doesn’t know. Yoongi sighs, spinning an entire slow revolution in his chair, then stopping promptly with the sound of his phone’s text notification.

Two unread.

Y/N, 4:38pm: Just got asked to go to a last second meeting. Probably will be out closer to 6:30 instead of 6:00, sorry.

Yoongi, 4:39pm: That’s fine no worries.

He exits the message thread to check on the other notification. He stares at Hoseok’s name for a second and the few words he’s able to see before opening the chat. Yoongi inhales, rubbing his jaw, while clicking it open with his free hand.

Hoseok, 3:57pm: I think enough time has passed... I’m going to start going for a new comeback now! You’re required to pre-order whenever the album is done!

Yoongi, 4:42pm: Ah, is that a fact?

Yoongi’s hand falls from his jaw to type quicker,

Yoongi, 4:43pm: I’ll help you make it however you need.

Hoseok, 4:45pm: Thanks, man.

Hoseok, 4:48pm: I’m nervous still haha

The phone rests on the desk, Yoongi’s hand resting beside it while he looks at the screen. He tilts his neck as a stretch, thoughtfully. Uncertain of how this would turn out for Hoseok. Wishing for the best. Trying to be hopeful. The dissention of early last year comes back into Yoongi’s mind. The unfair treatment, and watching his best friend go through the invasive camera lights daily, and the pouring stream of interrogative comments throughout social media. The blame that had no place linking to Hoseok when their old company decided to sell out to SoundWave as Hoseok’s contract was torn to pieces.

Yoongi, 4:56pm: You deserve the new beginning if anyone does. It’ll work out.

Hoseok, 5:00pm: Bro…

Yoongi, 5:00pm: You ruined it.

Hoseok, 5:01pm: Haha, I know……… Thanks Yoongi.

The final two words feel somber in Yoongi’s mouth. Drying. He doesn’t deserve to be thanked for anything, when he was quiet watching what happened. He could’ve done something to stop it all. Maybe Hoseok would have a studio next door to Yoongi’s still if more had been done to help. To disprove the wrong perspectives in the public. But it’s not in his persona to care like that.

He sighs, pressing the lock on his device. Index finger taps on the space below his keyboard, the desktop monitor powering off onto the screensaver. Yoongi feels like he should scoff at himself in judgement. How was he ever appalled by your lie when he’s no different.

---

You contemplate sending Namjoon a text, but acknowledge the busy time of the day for him and refrain. Instead you wallow in the quiet, staring at your notes while listening to the arranger and producers beside you editing your song by means of scribbling pencils. You hope they ask you something greater than questioning an affirmative of their ideas for changing the words on the track. Apparently the theme is appropriate, but the verbiage itself doesn’t fit the fast beat pace the producer intends to make this track into.

Jimin is across from you, equally to himself. He scrolls through his phone, appearing collected. He said hello to you sweetly, politely when he walked in with the producer. You didn’t realize he would be joining the impromptu meeting. It was just the producer that had texted you about it, mentioning the arranger also tagging along. Not Jimin. You knew he was using this song, but you didn’t think he needs to be here.

“Jimin, your choreographer is going to thank me for this one. I already know it.” The producer is happy, and granted you’re not entirely angry at the changes he makes on the paper. They’re minor, the meaning is still there. Your touch deteriorates only slightly, and it’s something that’s involved commonly throughout song conception processes. You don’t care about that, you really don’t. Maybe you’re even spitefully happy about the changes too, because it means less you, less for you to be bothered by in the credential section. Less you in lyrics Jimin sings.

“You’re only doing the touch-ups though.” Jimin voice is light-hearted, his playing smile small, yet meaningful. You keep your eyes towards the producer’s writing hand. Bite your lip when the message is properly conveyed to him by notice of his reply,

“You’re right, Y/N’s work is great, like usual.” He agrees sincerely, giving you a thumbs-up with his left hand. You smile softly, just managing a head nod. “Sorry about the random meeting too, by the way. I would’ve waited until tomorrow if we didn’t have to redo the recording for the album he’s going to be releasing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I was here anyways.” You tell him calmly, catching sight of Jimin when you adjust in your chair. He’s gentle in appearance like usual, watching you only because you were speaking. When the sentence ends you see the twitch of an upward smile that he smothers and instead goes back to his phone.

“You’re here more now that the whole fake dating thing is happening, huh?” The arranger’s comment is absent of ill-intent, you realize as he rubs his neck in a stupor as he goes on, “I can’t imagine how weird that has to be. SUGA’s new to the company too; must feel random to be matched up with him, right?”

“Yeah,” You say vaguely, hands in your lap messing around with one another as you hope for a new topic. “Yoongi’s been nice about it all though.” You blab softly, unable to see Jimin’s thumbs unmoving as he no longer pays attention to his phone screen despite his eyes pointing to it.

“He’s cool, I’ve done a couple of things to help him with his production lately.” The man beside you nods as he speaks, settling the pen beside the papers. “Really particular about his stuff, but because he does practically all of it himself, it makes sense.”

“Can I see the revised version?” You interject calmly, receiving the notes from him as he immediately nods, handing it off. You scan through the tiny adjustments, thinking on your own of what potential ideas they had to change the pace of the song.

“None of it’s too crazy, I don’t think, but if anything’s too much let me know.”

“No, it’s all okay with me.” You don’t mind the scribbles, but have even less desire to combat things lately since the meeting with Yerin.

“Can I take a look?” Jimin’s voice calls out to you, and you face him. Small nod as you reach the small distance to slide the papers towards him, then startle as the producer stands up beside you,

“Crap, I need to get to a session downstairs right now. Just get that to my studio when you’re done, Jimin.” He says and you watch using every muscle to refrain wonder at why the arranger also stood too. You instead mentally curse at him saying he’d tag along since he was done for the day as well. You curse again at the sound of the door, glaring at the sight at that point.

“I’ll give it to him like he asked.” Jimin breaks the silence, eyes trailing still at the page of lyrics. You look towards him, erect in your seat but unwilling to stand yet. You recall leaving before he woke up the last night you were with him, and the incredible drought of communication since then. But is it really this easy for him to be casual. Your eyes wait to meet his when he finally lifts them up from the sheet.

“I liked the pink hair.” You murmur as a comment, trying to fill the void of quiet, give yourself a reason to linger there a little longer and see the state of his thoughts towards you. “Well, the brown is nice too though.” You correct with a tiny shrug, feeling a larger pang in your chest when Jimin doesn’t stop his smile this time.

“I liked it too.” He lays the paper flat, but his fingers remain on its edge. You think of other ways to continue the conversation, and shove the thought of asking him simply how he is to the corner of your mind. You’re already staying back with him for no reason, you don’t want to seem completely tangled with missing him. “You and Yoongi...” Jimin begins, and the mere mention of you two makes you want to groan, hoping against this turning into a conversation about your precarious fake relationship when you wanted to focus on Jimin and you. “You don’t have to do anything too much, right?”

You narrow your eyes in confusion. Jimin reaches for his hair, fiddling as he goes on, concern twinging, “Like, nothing you don’t want to do, lo-”

He stops, nearly biting his tongue to do so. You notice. Your hands grip on your jeans, trying to discern if the slip was just because the term of endearment is something he’s so used to calling you, or if there is something more. You watch his index finger barely scratch at the paper on the table. Nervous.

“The whole relationship is something I don’t want to do.” Your sentence is dry, matched with your dismissive shrug. You know that isn’t what Jimin meant, but you don’t expect his head shaking and body becoming more straightened in posture,

“That’s not what I meant.” Jimin says directly, biting the inside of his cheek as he considers explaining himself further. You free him of doing that, nodding.

“I know.” He noticeably pauses, nearing a flustered expression and you almost want to smile in endearment, but you still feel more sad than anything. Confused. “Sorry,” You finally avert your gaze to the table, collecting your few items. “We’re not being forced into anything else though.” You explain while Jimin watches you move around.

Words clutter in his mouth, wondering what to say to keep you in the room, but knowing he shouldn’t. Can’t. He’s the one who ended it. He didn’t want to, but he did.

“Do you miss us?”

Jimin’s heartbeat increases, while yours secretly does as well. The question blurted from your lips in a moment of impulse that built from the second you saw him that day. Dumb, stupid; you want to take the question back, you don’t need his answer. You want it, but you shouldn’t have it in your thoughts whether it’s a yes or a no.

What difference would it make if he said yes and you returned back to how you were. He was right-- Namjoon was right, you’re own screaming logic is right: a secret untrue relationship wouldn’t last and it would only serve to hurt you in the long run. This situation that you both stand in is exactly because you made up the stupid idea in the first place. You should’ve let the first kiss be the last one. Just because you ended up falling in love, doesn’t mean Jimin did.

Jimin’s made it clear that the answer is no. Why do you want to hear him vocalize the no. Maybe a sick part of your mind wanted the words to be engraved so you can take it as a bridge burned to char. If he said no you could move on. That’s how it could work. Maybe it would actually be enough, in that off-chance-

“Of course.” Jimin’s voice whispers the words like they were heavy to push out of his lips. But you could ignore that, wrapped in the potential- “But I don’t want to get back together like we were.” He’s no longer making eye contact with you, busying his fingers further into his locks. “It hurts us both being hidden like that,” You open your mouth to interject that you could live with it, that it’s not necessarily a long-term state of being, but he speaks on, crushing you, “And I don’t want to be your actual boyfriend.”

The counterargument abandons your psyche entirely. The truth of the situation is apparent. Jimin’s made it apparent. The extent of what you were to him was just lust. His casual demeanor makes sense. Your lingering feelings are the minority, not mutually felt.

“Ah,” Your head nods even though Jimin’s not looking up at you. His statement burns more as you stand in the same room as him. “When you put it like that,” Jimin lifts his head, and you don’t know whether to register his expression as sad or not, because why would he be sad. Conflicted, likely. “It makes sense we’d stop then.” You continue to nod, stepping once towards the door, “Sorry. I got the wrong idea.”

You continue in your exit, ignoring anything he may try and do in response, because you didn’t want to be pitied on top of everything else. You let the sound of chairs clattering behind you drift into the background, and slipped out of the room without another word heard.

Yoongi’s studio is on the same floor, and easy to find in a matter of moments. You usually meet him at the lobby, but you don’t think of that as your phone’s clock reads twenty past six and you knock on the frosted glass door. After three soft pounds do you take note of the tiny doorbell that is likely more effective. The small device’s appearance makes you sigh, thinking of how idiotic you were about not seeing it, how idiotic in general.

“Y/N?” You don’t realize he’s opened the door until Yoongi’s voice disrupts your misguided thoughts. You look up towards him. Yoongi can see the straining expression to appear indifferent, but it fails completely this time just in appearance alone. “Are you okay?”

“Not really, but we have a dumb date to go on.” You huff, reaching both of your hands to rub your face. Yoongi remains quiet, already not fond of the dates when you were both in at least average moods, but seeing you like this makes him hate the idea even more.

“There’s no time schedule.” He says simply, you narrow your eyes towards him in a lack of understanding, then your shoulders relax as he steps back opening the door wider. “Want to hear some of the stuff I’ve been working on and we can go out later when we’re both starving instead?”

You think of his consideration for your temperament and feel a little bad that Yoongi feels the need to accommodate, but you step inside anyways. It isn’t like he enjoys the dating, and putting it off for a while sounds like the best option. Not to mention, dismissing his attempts at kindness wouldn’t be best either.

Besides, you can’t say you weren’t curious at the prospect of listening to what Yoongi’s been working on.

You glance around the studio, noting the organized arrangements overall, yet homely in some aspects as well. The decor is limited to a few wall posters and mostly bare shelving, but his couch area looks like it isn’t new at all. The couch in particular looks a bit worn, and cluttered with a couple of blankets and a pillow. His small coffee table has only a single empty plastic cup on it, but you figure he keeps the place tidy or else there would definitely be more evidence of his caffeine vice than currently appearing.

“If you want to use the couch you can. I have some wireless headphones,” Yoongi tells you as he goes to the highlight of the room: a desk space covering the entirety of the wall. Bright with various electronic equipment and brand names that also inhabit space in your own apartment. But here the space appears validated by its placement in the company walls.

You sit on the edge of the couch, hands resting on his lap as you continue looking around the studio. It’s definitely one of the larger ones. Yoongi hands you the pair of headphones, and you situated them over your ears while he goes on in speech. “Whoa, wait what?” You cut in quickly, causing him to look back at you while he sits in his desk chair. “These things are really noise cancelling, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi chuckles, rubbing his hair back from his face. “I was just saying I need to decorate more, but haven’t got around to it.” He slips a pair of headphones on too, leaving one ear free. “This is going to sound really rough, and there’s a gap where I’m waiting on someone to fill with vocals.”

You nod, smiling in anticipation without realizing so. The sight makes Yoongi glance away, biting his lip in sudden worry the track won’t sound as great as you may anticipate. He clicks to start anyways, listening in his own ears and simply keeping his eyes on the screen watching the point on the timeline move along.

Behind him you sit back into the cushion, trying to take in everything in one listen, despite the different levels of the song meshing together perfectly. Yoongi’s voice sounds completed in the song already, like he’s already reached a point of contentment in the sound in your opinion. “Your lyrics are really good.” You say, head swaying with the beat, staring at the empty cup instead of seeing if he’d turn to respond to you.

Yoongi catches the comment, tapping his finger on the desk, lips tightening and forming more pliable peaks on his cheeks from holding back a proud smile. He waits until the fade out, before finally facing you once more. Angles his chair slightly towards you, not all the way, trying to appear more calm than anything despite nerves still simmering quietly in his stomach because you are the first to hear this particular demo.

“Did you hear me about your lyrics?” You ask right away, sliding the headphones to rest atop your shoulders. Yoongi nods softly, mumbling about not wanting to interrupt when you were listening to say thanks. “They really, really are good.” You say again anyways, smile growing wider as Yoongi reaches to fiddle with his hair,

“Thanks again.” His voice is still quiet, something bashful about it as well. Satisfied, you think, but you continue on anyways,

“And your voice is controlled, like usual.” You sigh, leaning back, “I can’t get over it; you’re so great at singing and rapping.” Yoongi just shrugs, but you miss it while you adjust your sleeves off of your hands. “For it being incomplete, I’d still listen to it, even without the other person you’re waiting on.” Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head,

“That’s too high of praise, you’re messing with me now.”

“I’m not.” You interject firmly, sitting upright. Yoongi looks at you silently, but breaks it by rubbing his neck and speaking sincerely,

“Well, thank you. I was kind of nervous about this one actually. It’s pretty different than other songs I’ve made.”

“Yeah, it’s really on the edge of your usual stuff, I think.” You nod in agreement, settling your hand on your chin while you ponder. “But I’m sure it’ll do well. Besides what’s a better time to try new things than now, right?”

“I wanted to make it last year, actually.” Yoongi shifts on his chair, clicking open an email notification. The title reads a clothing brand, and he shuts it as he goes on and for a moment scrolls through other emails in case he’s missed anything important. “It was busy with the merger going on though. But the beat is inspired by a friend of mine’s style.”

You let the information fall into space, interested by the mention of a musical inspiration. You scan any ideas, but ultimately feel like you don’t know enough about Yoongi at all to make any verbal assumptions so you just joke, “Jin?”

“Oh,” You watch Yoongi pause, and turn on his seat, looking at you with widened eyes, “How’d you know?”

“Wait really?” Your eyes grow wide as well as the image of Seokjin passes through your mind as a music producer-

“No.”

“Hey,” Your eyes immediately narrow, paired ironically with reddening embarrassment in your face. Yoongi just scoffs, then all together laughs as you defiantly cross your arms. “Rude,” You mutter as his lips continue releasing his entirely humored melody. “He could’ve; you don’t know.”

“I don’t?” He counters, slumping back into his chair and looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s performed an entire masterpiece with chopsticks and shot glasses before, so, yeah, you don’t.” You try to refrain from releasing any of your own smiling, maintaining a serious gaze towards Yoongi as he believes none of it and nods once.

“I live to be proven wrong, I guess.” He turns to face his computer once more, rearranging the opened windows as though he intends to continue working like he had before you stopped by. At this realization your arms relax, and you think about what you should do so not to bother him, maybe grab coffee to bide the time, or mindlessly watch YouTube videos on your phone.

Yoongi interrupts the thoughts, “It might not be my place to offer, but if you ever wanted to talk--or vent about,” His head tilts as he decides against specific topics, “Anything… I’d listen.” His hand sits still on the mouse, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to overstep. Though with all the trouble you seem to have, Yoongi tries to ignore that worry, allowing the innocent concern to lead the offer along.

“I probably look like I’m always down about something, right?” Your voice trickles embarrassment and spite, sighing as you rub your hair and angle your neck towards his coffee table. Frankly, it’s tiring to continue each day dismayed by the amount of circumstances left out of your control. Quietly having to accept so much that no one else seems to have to bother with, especially where songwriting is concerned.

“Not always, no.” Yoongi responds, eyes on the monitor though he’s looking at nothing. Contemplative of phrasing. “But a lot has happened the past month, and not much of it is good for you. I may not be your closest friend, but I think anyone seeing you pretend to be okay this often would wonder if you want to talk.”

You stare at the glossy wood, thinking of the interaction between you and Jimin not long ago. Being the first time you had spoken to him, you hoped it would’ve been better, maybe even telling for what the future could hold, but that was all wishful thinking in the end. He still left. Still keeps an arm’s distance. “I just,” You pause feeling the air in your throat that you hadn’t expected to cloud your sentence. You swallow it down and bite your lip, noticing Yoongi’s movement in your peripherals as he faces you slightly. Likely checking. Your voice probably sounded ridiculous.

“It’s okay to not speak too. Whenever you’re ready.”

The sentiment feels as comforting as the way Yoongi’s voice says the words. Absent of condescension, wholly gentle and patient. Putting his ideas of what he thought of you when you met and he found out about your job aside, to simply focus on your troubles. Understanding when he really didn’t have to be. Even if you both were amicable, and freshly titled friends like he said; it’s not like Yoongi needed to offer a metaphorical shoulder, or a penny for your thoughts without an expiration date. The action gives you a tug forward.

“Jimin was at the meeting and I didn’t think he’d be there.” You finally murmur, trying to avoid eye contact as though the words itching to leave your mouth would hide if you did. “I didn’t want to break up with him--or,” You sigh, rubbing your hair as your head shakes, “We weren’t a couple, I can’t really call it a break up, huh?” You rhetorically question feelings silly for being wrapped up in this relationship when it wasn’t a proper one to begin with. “I just didn’t want it to end.” The words fade, spacing even more as you ponder sadly, “And seeing him doing well-- even though he said he misses us, it just makes me feel like I’m the only one unable to push forward.”

In the very least, Jimin’s more in control of himself than you’re showing to be. Strongly believing this is the best way to handle the problems that existed in the relationship and unmoving about it. If you think about it like that, then maybe it would be better to try and adhere to this idea, even with your feelings for him. If they aren’t reciprocated feelings, there really is no worth in you continuously falling deeper and deeper. It was always bound to hurt, you just wish it could have happened later; like you would whenever the separation inevitably happened.

“Whether it takes you longer than him or not to work through this isn’t a problem. I think you should let yourself take as long as you need.” Yoongi gazes without focus at an empty shelf he plans to display albums of artists he’s collaborated with. Considering the closeness you and Jimin evidently had, it’s completely acceptable that you would be saddened by it all, and for all Yoongi knows the relationship could’ve had knots and twists that he’d never guessed that would garner the need for you to take months to heal. “Also,” He starts, though he considers not saying anything at all in case it may be a statement he doesn’t have the right to speak to, but recalling all of the instances thus far that he’s been unable to help you at all, he lets himself finish, “I don’t think you should shove all of it down either… I bet that feels suffocating.”

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed that he’s noticed how upset you’ve been despite having known you only a couple of months. You thought you have done well so far to at least appear normal, but with Yoongi spending hours of random days solely with you, it’s plausible he has simply caught on. Somehow the fact alone didn’t feel bad. In the same way that you had Namjoon to turn to because he knows everything that’s going on, it feels comforting that Yoongi is there as well. At least in his accepting way, whether it’s deeper than that, you don’t know and lean towards doubt if only because you’re both not on close terms.

“So I should just cry in the middle of our dates?” You try at a joke, but the smile you give him is appreciative of his advice. Yoongi glances to you, chair still angled to the wall. He hears the slightly joking tone and shrugs to it,

“If you do it gives us an excuse to go home.” You giggle at the fact and don’t mention that Yerin would likely end up irritated by you both appearing like a mess in public.

“I’ll cry one week, and you cry the next then.” You tease, scooting further into his couch and realizing that its incredible plushness is why it’s worn and Yoongi’s likely kept it since his last company. He laughs at the idea, nodding his head, relaxing himself now that you seem a little better, or at least, he hopes, less inclined to force yourself to act happy. “Thanks, for letting me talk a little, by the way.” A quieter, sincere tone. Before he’s able to respond you continue, “It means a lot to me that you wanted to help. I know I’m kind of, I guess, distant with my feelings, but it’s nice to feel like I don’t have to hide it all with someone around the company. I won’t bother you with myself though, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Yoongi discerns the idea you may feel annoying and softly diverts the thought away. “Besides sometimes it’s okay to be selfish and rant anyways. You’re just trying to help yourself.” He glances to his computer as you only respond with a nod, perhaps not entirely believing his words, but that could be a building process. “Hey, actually, while we’re here, and since you’re a producer,” You lift your head up, immediately curious as he mentions the title. “You want to help me play around with this song idea I’ve been messing with for the past week?”

“Wait, really?” You practically beam the words like sunlight, refraining from a flustered smile at the idea, but Yoongi can tell by how you sit up that you’re more than willing.

“Yeah, I’m not really getting anywhere with it, and since I know you’re the one who wrote practically all of the songs I liked from this company, of course I’d want to work with you.” The growing smile on your face almost makes Yoongi feel embarrassed as well that you found the request so appealing. He briefly chuckles as you start to nod, and he smiles brightly asking in bewilderment,

“Is it that exciting? It’s just me who’s offering, anyways.”

“Says the guy who’s made so much music that I love.” Yoongi bites his lip, smile not hiding at the joy. Emulating your sudden upbeat demeanor, simply because it felt infectious, Yoongi gestures to his computer,

“Well then since we both love each other’s stuff, let’s make it the collaboration of the year.” A light-hearted joke, but you and Yoongi mutually think it’s suddenly an exciting idea to work with one another on a song. So you’re up to your feet in seconds, taking the few steps towards his work area as he clicks around the screen,

“Wait, you don’t expect me to stand and help do you?”

“Oh, right, I’ll get a chair.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​ @tsvkino-usagi​​​

[shirokage-artworks]

Coffee art is so underrated...

By Azalea Azuar / Leaazpens

Riuh is just so freakin happening.

I mean, I've gone to the first one in Bangsar, where they held it in Art Printing Works (APW) an old printing factory.

It was next to the Balai Berita building (my future office,looks like it) at Jalan Riong.

Seriously, the place is crowded with cool youngsters and families.

Although I've never heard of Riuh before, my stepmom was the one who introduced it to me because she brought me to this place.

Yeah I don't know about it because I'm a totally outdated introvert.

But serious shit, Riuh just feeds the inner artist in me.

It's a monthly creative bazaar platform with different pop-up stores, showcases, workshops and live performances.

All around I see vendors selling cool stuff like bath bombs, unique accessories and heck, there's even Tony Eusoff selling hotdogs!

But what caught my eye was a group of people sitting down in the middle of a hall.

As I walked closer, I could see the table is messy with art tools and coffee powder.

The group of people were so immersed in creating sepia-toned paintings but it wasn’t watercolour, acrylic or oil….rather coffee itself!

I was surprised and fascinated how such a simple ingredient can create remarkable works of art. So, I decided to go for the coffee painting workshop by KL Sketch Nation.

The members were friendly and approachable.

One of them, Jerome, taught me coffee painting.

So, I decided to paint Emperor Palpatine since he is my favourite Star Wars character (I don't recommend beginners painting portraits first as it might be challenging and I wasn't happy with the effect anyway).

It's been ages since I've painted. The last time I've done it was for a university project.

I was 18 at the the time and we had to use a canvas to present our trip to Melaka for our Creative Studies module.

So, we had to paint our canvas and I hated the module so much that I don't want to paint anymore.

Thank you, I'll just stick to pencils and pens.

It was not until I joined KL Sketch Nation in 2019 that my love for painting return.

I was volunteering for a coffee painting booth at an event in Shah Alam.

So, I don't know what to do...I haven't painted in a long time but the self-taught artist in me taught me not to panic.

I simply took the pencil and started drawing a random anime OC.

After I'm done with the waterproof inks, I started painting on it.

Ok, at first it sucked according my standards.

But I soon understood how painting works since my self-taught mechanism is based on trial and error.

Next, I decided to draw Renji Abarai from Bleach and the results....weren't that bad at all.

I believed that like any other skill requires practice in order for you to be better.

Almost every week I would come out with a painting and as time goes by, there have been room for improvement.

After a while I became more confident and bolder with my coffee painting skills that I started to put it with other uses, such as painting a comic series entirely out of coffee.

And so the Sheev and Rey series is born out of the idea after watching Star Wars Episode XI: The Rise of Skywalker where...*SPOILER ALERT*......

what if Palpatine was a nicer grandfather and he raised Rey from the beginning?

.......*SPOILER ENDS*.......

I was happy that a lot of people liked the comics so I guess I’m gonna continue making them.

The other reason why I paint Sheev and Rey only using coffee is because coffee art is not that popular.

Earlier this year, around the same time when the Covid-19 virus entered Malaysian borders, I went on a camping trip with my family during the Chinese New Year holidays.

I was painting at one of the outdoor tables, used for eating and there were a few passers-by who saw me painting.

When they asked me what I was painting with, I replied “coffee”. Then they were surprised that you can use coffee to paint.

I’m the type who does not like painting in the open because I don't like it when I’m being watched drawing. It’s also because they would want me to draw a picture of them, which happened during that camping trip.

But if this is a way to get more people exposed to coffee painting then I’m all up for it.

I’m still happy to show people my coffee art and they are happy with the smell.

I guess that’s the joy of painting using coffee, and I assure you it’s not that hard. In fact, it’s something beginners should start off with before venturing into using colours...just to understand the basics of painting.

I’ll explain more about the technical side of coffee painting in another article….

[vios-rockland-corner]

Life in Rockland 2

[Life in Rockland is a creative writing project utilizing a specific OC in place of the MC for the “Rumors of Rockland” series.  I do not own any part of the Rockland universe, only my OC.  Fair warning, creative writing is not my forte.  This is a means of practice and a fun way to enjoy the content further].

Sasha’s in a much better mood than a few hours ago.  As she settles in for the night though, she’s faced with a small predicament that grows into a much deeper pondering about the day’s events.

Setting: After game events

Play: Rumors of Rockland- Article 2

[Spoilers below for RoR Article 2]

Sasha’s Choices:

[Get Help]

[I get the impression people can get away with a lot around here]

“Speaking”

Thinking

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of tapping filled the room.

Sasha wasn’t typing, just lightly tapping on the top of her laptop while sitting at her desk.

I would have called or texted him by now.  Well I mean it’s late, won’t hurt if it’s not today.  God I wanted to talk about everything though, but…

She sighed and pushed her laptop to the side.  She shifted her chair over to the other side of the desk and reached over to pull a small pot close to her.  

“Hello Hydra~ You’re always a good listener.  Mind hearing me out?  I got a little problem.  It’s supposed to be good to talk to your plants anyway,” she chuckled.

It was a small venus flytrap.  Nothing extravagant, but she loved the bright green stalks and red mouths.  All wide open with the exception of one.

“Oh look at that. Looks like you already found yourself some dinner.  You’re the best bug repellent a girl could ask for.”

She gently petted the closed mouth.

“So see, this town is definitely small.  Pierce wasn’t kidding about running into people again.  I just didn’t expect THIS kind of situation to happen so soon.”

“So let’s run over the details again.  I told Pierce there was a raging alcoholic last time I went to this place.  He said dude was probably being emotional and just blowing smoke, but I should probably keep my distance from wild cards like him anyway.  Yet I ended up having a pretty good time with Avery and Callum tonight.  So I’d like to say bad first impression that led to a misunderstanding and all’s good now.  At least…that’s what I’d LIKE to say.”

Sasha sighed.

Fuck I feel awful even having these thoughts after Avery and Callum were nice enough to get me more familiar with people.

“It’s the middle part that’s killing me a bit here.  I guess I just kind of pushed it to the back of my brain while settling down in the bar.”

“Okay first of all, I don’t regret my actions.  I would hate myself if I hadn’t done SOMETHING.  Callum’s such a sweet guy, and I really feel like he was about to get beaten up.  No offense to him, but he doesn’t exactly look like a fighter.  It was also 2-on-1 anyway.  God, what if they would have killed him out of prejudice?!  Am I overreacting? Maybe, but I don’t know.”  

“But hey, it’s not like I would have made the odds any better if I had joined in myself.  I don’t really have any fighting skills, and something tells me two grown men aren’t going to be that intimidated by 5’4” woman. Not to mention, I don’t sound intimidating at all.  If I had at least SOMEONE else with me, maybe…did that once with Pierce.”

Sasha started reminiscing.

“There actually was one time where Pierce and I came across someone being hassled near a bar.  But Pierce and I approached pretending to be the dude’s friends.  We just made our voices VERY loud about how were happy to see the guy and then said something along the lines of ‘Dude come on, you’re so late.  Everyone’s been waiting, stop holding things up.’  Think we were pretending to be in a hurry.  Pierce literally just cut by the jerks, grabbed the guy’s arm and we just all walked together to the bar while continuing our conversation about our very made up plans.  I was dead afraid those guys were going to jump us from behind, but it never happened. The dude we pulled out of there was definitely grateful.  I thought it was cool, but Pierce told me later that method won’t always work for everyone.  We just got lucky that the guys we came across were the type that didn’t like attention being drawn to their shitty attitudes.  Pierce said some people won’t give a damn though about who sees their nasty side.  So with that in mind and the fact I can’t really act as smoothly as Pierce can anyway…yeah no way I could have jumped in to help Callum without backup.”

That’s a VERY different approach than the one Avery took too…

“Look I don’t know why I didn’t think to just call the police.  I either wasn’t thinking, or I just thought they’d blow me off for it just being drunken bar nonsense that wasn’t even happening in the establishment.”

Now it doesn’t sound like people call the cops much anyway in Rockland.

“I didn’t know Whesker wasn’t there.  I just saw Avery and well…things turned out okay.  But how was I supposed to know he was going to nearly beat the two drunks to death tonight.  It’s not like I care for garbage like that, I just think personally playing executioner to some folks without attempting to even dissolve the situation peacefully first is just…”  Sasha groaned.

“Okay, calm down Sasha. Maybe you’re just overexaggerating the situation.  Just because you heard…bones cracking, doesn’t necessarily mean he would have gone all the way, right?  People can sometimes just be fragile.”  

He said he wanted to snap someone’s neck last week.  He’s not all bark and no bite.

“Fuck, stop Sasha!” She muttered to herself and placed her head in her hands.

“Avery was protecting his friend.  The drunks were homophobic and might have hurt Callum.  Maybe they would have even killed him!  Not like they didn’t earn at least a punch in the face.  Callum’s safe now, and both Avery and Callum treated me so well tonight.  Why the hell am I being so judgmental?”

Because I almost watched two men get murdered in front of me?

“Ridiculous.”

Sounded like stuff like this happens under the radar a lot.

Sasha got up from her desk and heading towards the bathroom. She turned the sink on and started splashing water on her face.  She took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror.

“Hey, you’re new. Feeling a little jittery is all. You’ve never really known much anywhere other than your own home for most of your life.  It’s a lot of new experiences at once.  …Why the hell am I talking in second person?”

Sasha left the bathroom and sat back in front of Hydra again.

“I’m the new person here. Everyone else has been here for a long time.  I’m more like a guest or intruder at this point.  Sounds like things will only go south for me if I get too nosy or mess with the wrong people.  When have EITHER of those ever been a problem for me?  Hell, I never even drank underage.  Pierce calls me too boring at times too,”  She chuckled.

“Worst crime I feel like I’ve ever done is jaywalking.  And yeah, I know if there’s ever trouble, I’m the type to go to the proper authorities for help.  Whether it was work, school or town life.  But I’m an adult, and if this place is more of a ‘you take care of your own business’ type of deal, I need to respect that and take responsibility for myself.  MOST of the people I’ve come across have been nothing but friendly towards me.  Maybe I need to stop jumping to conclusions. There’s no way that I’m going to be scared off back home by stuff like this.”

I won’t lie, it’ll hurt my pride a little if I move back home just because I didn’t try to fit in.

“Well I’m not sure if I’m being open minded here or too lenient out of naivety.  I AM sure that Pierce would raise an eyebrow though. There’s no way I could explain away how I knew to call out to Avery in the bar.  I didn’t say his name last week, but he’ll remember the alcoholic I mentioned.  Now if this was in our town, Pierce would probably make some kind of weird joke about this.  But I think…he wouldn’t admit it but I think he’s been a little anxious lately that he’s not here with me to watch my back.”

She pet one of Hydra’s heads.

“When we’re together, he likes to poke fun at me and take me to my places that sometimes aren’t in my comfort zone.  But that’s only if he’s confident enough himself that he can get us out of a tight bind we might get into.  He never took to me to anyplace extremely dangerous or introduced me to people he didn’t trust.  He doesn’t know anyone in Rockland.  I’m sure telling him how the possible alcoholic can possibly beat people to death would put him on edge.  Especially since I’ve run into Avery twice now.  Pierce would be nervous about that proximity.”

So I’m fighting between relying on my hometown friend’s judgement and giving new people a chance.  Not to mention putting my own judgement skills to the test here.

Sasha leaned back and hummed to herself.

“So here’s the story. Callum was getting hassled in the alleyway.  I called out to his friend from last week who was having a bad time.  Out of necessity of course.  He came and knocked the drunks away and then Callum, Avery and I had a good time going over the different citizens in town.  There we go.  Short and simple.  Not even a lie.  Why was I even overthinking all this?  If Pierce presses, I’ll just say Avery can look scary.  Dude IS pretty tall too, probably can stare off a lot of people with just a glare.”

Definitely believe he’s not to be messed with.

“I missed the VERY beginning when Avery entered the alleyway anyway.  Callum may have sounded chipper, but who’s to say Avery hadn’t spotted one of the dudes trying to pull a knife or something.  If you’re gonna beat a knife and two guys with just fists, you BETTER act fast.”

Sasha nodded to herself.

“Everything’s fine.  Even the drunks at the end of the day will recover. Hopefully learned a lesson and become better people, but that’s up to them.”

She looked at the clock. It really WAS late.  Sasha stretched her arms and headed over to the closet, looking for some nightwear to change into.

“…but seriously, who the hell is Kinley?”

[saiilorstars]

Next Stop Everywhere

Chapter 3: The End and Start of Something New

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor (but we’re starting with the 9th Doctor)

OC face claim is the actress Victoria Camacho!

No real warnings for now!

// Story Masterlist // 

~0~0~0~0~

"You said this was a spaceship." I said, watching the Doctor work the controls, "So you're an alien, then?"

He looked up with a big grin,"Uh, yeah. Is that a problem?"

I looked him over, taking in his appearance which really looked like he couldn't even harm a fly, "...No."

Rose smiled, "This is actually real."

"Tell me about it," I laughed excitedly.

"Right then, Rose Tyler, Joy..." the Doctor paused, "Do you have another name?"

"Souza," I answered fast, "S-o-u-z-a, pronounced, SO-ZAH!"

He laughed, probably thinking I was crazy but I was just so excited! "Alright then, Joy Souza, where so you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time? What's it going to be?"

"Forwards," Rose and I answered together; we glanced at each other and smiled.

"How far?"

"One hundred years," Rose blurted.

But I knew exactly where I wanted to go. If this was a time traveling box then I'd put it to the test. "Five billion years into the future."

They looked up, shocked. "Really?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes. Take us," I ordered lightly.

"Right then," he shrugged, pulling down a lever.

The box shook in its violent ways that seemed usual for the Doctor as he just awaited for its halt.

When we did stop, I rushed to the doors. "Are we here?"

"Why don't you look outside?" the Doctor replied.

I bit my lip and flung the doors open. It was a wooden room with a glass window in front. I rushed down the small steps and towards the wall. "I'm looking at the earth," I whispered, "My earth."

"You lot spend all your time thinking about dying. Like you're going to get killed by eggs or beef or global warming or asteroids," the Doctor said from behind, "But you never take time to imagine the impossible. Maybe you survive. This is 5 billion years in your future. This is the day...hold on...This is the day the sun expands." "Welcome to the end of the world."

I was looking with such intrigue through the window when he said that; my eyes widened and looked back with shock. He nodded, reasserting what he had just said. I looked back to my planet. My dear Earth. "The end of the world..." I stroked the wall.

Now, I truly believed the Doctor's box of wonders was a time traveling box; it had brought us to the end of the world.

~0~

"So when it says, 'guests' does that mean people?" Rose was asking the Doctor as we walked down a corridor.

"Depends what you mean by people." the Doctor shrugged.

"I mean people. What do you mean?"

"Aliens." I smiled, capturing the term quite fast.

The Doctor smiled back, nodding. "This is an observation deck. The great and the good are gathering to watch the planet burn."

"For fun?"

"My, you are clever." he nodded.

"Believe me, I've had to be..." I muttered, looking away.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," I quickly said, "So do we get to meet them?" We entered an observation gallery. "The rich aliens?"

"Hold on," Rose stopped, "They did this once on 'Newsround Extra' the sun expanding, I mean...that takes hundreds of years."

"Millions." the Doctor corrected, "But the planet's now property of the National Trust. They've been keeping it preserved. See down there?" He pointed to glints of light that orbited the planet, "Gravity satellite. That's holding back the sun."

"It still looks the same..." I observed, "Continents didn't change."

"They did.' he nodded, "The trust shifted them back. But now the money's run out...nature takes over!"

"So how long does it have?"

"About half an hour." the Doctor took a look at his watch, "Yeah."

"And then it burns..." I whispered.

"So you're going to save it." Rose nodded, so sure of it.

"I'm not saving it. Time's up." The Doctor said, bluntly.

I glanced back, surprised. "You're..."

"It's empty! The people are all gone!"

"Who the hell are you?" someone demanded, "How did you get in? All the guests have already disembarked!"

"But that's us," the Doctor took out a leather wallet and held it out, "Guests plus two."

"Well...obviously," the blue man, as I'll be calling him that, quickly gestured us further inside the room, "Apologies. If you're on board we'd better start! Enjoy!"

I glanced at the wallet and snatched it, the blue man walking off, "This is completely blank."

"Let me see," Rose snatched it from me, "Hey...it is."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Psychic paper? It shows them whatever I want them to see. Saves a lot of time."

"He's blue..." Rose looked on, just now realizing the blue man's appearance.

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded, "Aha."

"Okay..."

The blue man spoke through a microphone for us all to hear, "All staff to their positions please! Hurry now! Thank you! And now, I might introduce the next honored guest, representing the forest of Cheem, we have Tress. Namely, Jabe, Lute and Coffa." Three tree looking people walked in through a door. "There'll be an exchange of gits representing peace. If you can see the room circulating, thank you. Next, from the solicitors Jolco and Jolco, the Moxx of Balhoon."

Rose and I stared at the 'people' walking in through the doors. Definitely not humans.

"The gift of peace." the lady 'tree' walked up to us holding a plant tray in hand. "I bring you a cutting of my grandfather."

"Thank you!" the Doctor exclaimed, taking it from her and handing it to me, "And gifts...um...I give you in return, air from my lungs," he blew a large amount of air to her face.

"How...intimate." the lady said afterwards, smiling.

"More were that came from." the Doctor smirked.

"Is he flirting with a tree?" I whispered to Rose, making her snicker.

"Sponser of the main event, please welcome the Face of Bo."

A head in a jar, with a might large size, was wheeled in through the doors.

"The Moxx of Balhoon," the Doctor announced to the next guests.

"My felicitation on this historical happenstance. I give you the gift of bodily saliva."

I frowned, "Wait, that-"

And that thing...

...spit on my face.

The Doctor laughed, 'Thank you very much."

I glared, 'Actually, I don't quite agree-"

"Shut up," he covered my mouth, 'Not invited so no complaints." I sighed and crossed my arms. "Ah! The Adherents of the Repeated Meme. I bring you air from my lungs," he blew air to new guests.

'A gift of peace in all good faith." it held out a large silver egg which the Doctor took and handed it to me again.

I passed it onto Rose like I had done with the planet.

"And last but not least, our very special guest." the blue man announced, "Consider the Earth below. In memory of this dying world, we call forth the Last Human."

Immediately, I looked over. The doors opened and in was wheeled a vertical trampoline which held up a sort of...scrap? Although, this scrap had eyes and a stained red mouth.

"The Lady Cassandra O'Brien Dot Delta Seventeen."

"Oh now, don't stare," Cassandra said, "I know, I know it's shocking, isn't it? I've had my chin completely taken away and look at the difference! Look how thin I am!"

I was...disappointed. This was the last human? The last of my species that practically represented us...was a scrap?

"I don't look a day over two thousand," She continued, "Moisturize me, moisturize me," she muttered to the men beside her trampoline set. She was sprayed with a canister. "Truly, I am the Last Human."

I frowned, "Fat chance."

"My father was a Texan. My mother was from the Arctic Desert. They were born on the Earth and were the last to be buried in the soil."

Rose and I walked around, both curious at this scrap called Cassandra. She was completely flat...

"I have come to honor them an..." Cassandra sniffed, 'Say goodbye. Oh no, no tears." one her men wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. But behold! I bring gifts! From earth itself: the last remaining ostrich egg." An egg was displayed to the room. "Legend says it had a wingspan of 50 feet and blew fire from its nostrils."

I rolled my eyes, "This woman's a nut job."

"Or was that my third husband?" Cassandra suddenly questioned.

"Oh brother..." I rolled my eyes as I returned next to the Doctor.

A jukebox was wheeled inside next.

"And another rarity." she continued, "According to the archives this was called an iPod. It stores classical music from humanity's greatest composers."

I shook my head. Music was started from the jukebox and played "Tainted Love'' by Soft Cell. I was getting irritated with all this. Rose looked amazed at how stupid this woman was. The Doctor, on the other hand, started dancing about.

I glanced at him and shook my head slowly, "No."

To me, this was an embarrassment. All the achievement of my planet and this is what will bid goodbye to it? Ridiculous.

I noticed Rose had rushed out of the gallery. I wondered if it was of the embarrassment as well; I wouldn't blame her. "Doctor. Rose left."

"What?" he looked after her. He was going to follow her but the lady tree stopped him.

"Doctor?" she motioned for them to take a picture. "Thank you." She smiled after the picture had been taken.

"Bit odd." I remarked as they left.

"Where's Rose?" he asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know. But...it should be safe right?"

He agreed, "Yeah."

"Cassandra is mad." I began, sighing, "None of the things she said are true. This is horrible!"

"Give her a break. It's not like she had the full experience."

I blinked, "Oh my god..."

"What?"

"I'm dead." I put a hand on my chest, "I've been dead for billions of years."

He frowned, "Ray of sunshine."

I turned to him, "I've got a question."

"Let me hear it." he gestured, "That's how you learn right?"

I smiled and nodded, "If they're aliens...why do they speak English?"

"Telepathic field. It gets inside your brain and translates."

"The Box of Wonders is in my head..." I repeated.

"Box of what?"

"Nothing," I waved him off.

"Do you mind if I go search for Rose?"

"By all means!" I exclaimed, "I'll stay here and uh...mingle." I smiled then walked off.

Mingle? How? I didn't want to be anywhere near the scrap. Instead, I went over to the glass window, staring with wonder.

If my parents would see me now. They'd finally get it. I'm up to the impossible. Screw the 'normal' life. This is what I craved for. Unlike them, I wouldn't spend the rest of my days trapped in an office dealing with other people's problems. This right here...this was incredible. They should be proud. They shouldbe.

"Excuse me?" I glanced and saw the lady tree again. "Hello, um, what was your name?"

"Joy." I said, nervously. What if they realized I was a stow away?

"Jabe." she introduced, "The man you were here with, the Doctor...where is he from?"

I blinked, suddenly realizing I didn't know the answer to that. "Um...it's personal, I'm afraid."

"Oh...and his name then?"

I remained quiet again, "Um...personal? Only friends."

She slowly nodded, "Where are you from then?"

I looked back to the window, looking down at my planet. "Far, far away."

"Right..."

Suddenly, the ship shuddered, making us wobbly on our feet. "Woah..." I ended up against the window. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Jabe shook her head, "No."

"Uh oh..." I looked around, "Got any engine room?"

She nodded, "Yes but I don't think you'd know any of that stuff."

I know she didn't mean to sound mean, but it was. "Well," I fixed my flowery dress, "I've fixed my own motor," I said, proudly, "A ship? Let's find out."

I rushed to the entrance where I bumped into the Doctor and Rose. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Engine room. I doubt that was normal." I replied.

He looked me over, "No...you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Joy-"

"No." I spat.

"Well, I don't know about an engine room exactly," Jabe cut in, "But the maintenance duct is just behind our guest's suite. I could show you and..." she looked between Rose and him. "...Wife?"

"She's not my wife." the Doctor bluntly said.

"Partner?" she tried again.

"No."

"Concubine?"

"Nope."

Jabe studied Rose again, "Prostitute...?"

I shook my head. Rose crossed her arms, "Whatever I am, it must be invisible. Do you mind?" she snapped, "Why don't you two go and pollinate, I'm going to catch up with family. Quick word with Michael Jackson," she walked off.

"I'll uh...if you want I'll stay here." I pointed to Rose.

He nodded, "That'd be good."

I nodded and walked off as well. That did not go well. I was going to talk to Rose but I saw she had found conversation with Cassandra. I decided to let her have it so she could cool down.

~0~

I didn't belong here, was the first thing that popped into my head as I stared out the glass window once more. I was thinking hard about my location, how I got here...and I figured out was that I've wanted to travel, but to Paris. To Brazil. Not in space...

Of course, that's also because it never occurred to me it was possible.

"Miss?" It was one of those blue looking people again, only female; she looked like a plumber. "Do you mind?" She gestured a cloth to the window.

"No, no, no, go ahead," I took a step back.

"Sorry for speaking without permission," She began wiping the window.

"Permission?"

She mused, "You are not from around here, are you?"

"Is it that easy to tell?"

She nodded. "Forgive my directness, but you have beautiful hair."

"Oh," I looked down to my long, brunette hair, "Thank you."

"It is exceptionally long. Most people don't really do that anymore."

"Because they don't have any?" I picked at one of my strands, suddenly tensing as I realized that may be rude if it was taken out of context.

She chuckled, "That was quite funny."

"Well I'll tell you what, in my planet, most girls don't rock the long hair that goes to the waist," I gestured to mine.

She raised an eyebrow, "Rock it? Is that an earth term?"

"Uh..." I blinked, "Yeah...I um, heard Cassandra saying it. Felt like it should come back."

She nodded, "Very nice."

"The planet's end! Come gather!" Cassandra exclaimed.

"Huh?" I looked around and noticed Rose was gone again. "That girl needs to stop doing that," I walked to the group of people gathered around Cassandra.

"Let us mourn the earth with a traditional ballad." Cassandra said.

And suddenly, Toxic began playing. "Oh you have got to be kidding me," I muttered.

"Stop everything!" Jabe ran into the room with the Doctor. "The spider devices have infiltrated the whole of platform one."

"How's that possible?" Cassandra asked, "Our private rooms are protected by a code of wall."

"Summon the steward!" Someone yelled.

"The steward is dead." Jabe announced.

Everyone gasped. "But who would do that?" I asked.

"This whole event was sponsored by the Face of Bo!" Cassandra exclaimed. "He invited us!"

I moved back to the Doctor, "Why not just use the spiders to find out who it was? Obviously, they have a master...or a mistress. Find out who controls them."

"Exactly." He smiled. He set down the spider on the floor and let it scurry back to its master...The Adherents of the Repeated Meme.

"It was them." I crossed my arms, frowning.

"Now, you're clever but you still need to learn." The Doctor said, "Because, you see, a Repeated Meme is just an idea." It tried striking him but he caught its arm and ripped it off. I stared, bug eyed with shock. "A Repeated Meme is just an idea. And that's all they are. An idea." He ripped out a wire from the arm, causing all the Adherents to crumble down into black cloaks.

"Was not expecting that..." I admitted.

"They're remote controlled Droids. Nice little cover for the REAL troublemaker." The Doctor nudged the spider with his foot. "Go home!"

The spider scurried back to Cassandra. "I bet you were the school swot and never got kissed." She sneered, "At arms!" Her two guards raised their canisters at us.

"What are you going to do, moisturize us?" I raised an eyebrow.

"With acid." She rolled her eyes. "But it's too late anyways. My spiders have control of the mainframe. You all carried them as gifts, tax free, past every code wall. I'm not just a pretty face."

"Actually, you're NOTHING." I snapped, nearly scoffing at her scrap figure. "You could be used to wipe the floors..."

"Sabotaging a ship whole you're still inside it?" The Doctor questioned.

"Manufacture a hostage situation with myself as a victim: Enormous compensation," she replied.

"I don't get it. You're all rich but it still comes down to the money. Is this what the world is still all about?" I asked, disgusted. "Money?"

"Do you think it's cheap looking like this?" Cassandra snapped, "Flatness costs a fortune."

"But you're nothing!" I exclaimed, "You claim to be the last human but that's false. Anything human has been...dead for centuries." I looked her over.

"I am the Last Human."

"WRONG." I snapped, "Rose is human. I am human. You...you're a piece of scrap."

"Joy," the Doctor pulled me back.

"Earth death in 3 minutes." The computer announced.

"And here it comes. You're just as useful dead, all of you. I have shares in your rival companies and they'll triple in price as soon as your dead." Cassandra chuckled, "My spiders are primed and ready to destroy the safety systems. How did that old Earth song go? 'Burn, baby, burn.'"

"Then you'll burn with us," I said, glaring.

"Sorry, but I've got teleportation. Strictly forbidden but...I'm such a naughty thing. Spiders: Activate."

A couple of explosions rocked the ship.

"Force fields gone with the planet about to explode. At least it'll be quick. Just like my fifth husband," Cassandra giggled. "Shame on me. Buh-bye darlings!" She teleported away along with her guards.

"That bitch," I spat.

"Joy," The Doctor scolded.

"What? I say what I feel," I crossed my arms.

"Can someone reset the computer!" Mixx of Balhoon exclaimed.

"Only the steward would know how!" Jabe replied.

"No, we can do it," The Doctor corrected, "There has to be a restoration switch. C'mon Jane," He rushed for the exit.

"Wait," I grabbed his arm, "What about me?"

"You need to stay here...where's it's safe."

"That's some bullshit." I snapped, "It's not safe anywhere."

"Later we'll talk about your language," he wagged a finger, making me roll my eyes, "But first, STAY HERE," and he ran off.

I stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell am I supposed to do here on my own? I didn't even know where Rose was.

"Heat Levels, critical." The computer announced again.

A crack in the window made me turn around. The glass window wouldn't hold on much longer. The light began pouring through, engulfing the Moxx of Balhoon.

I screeched a little, my eyes widening at the scene. Without thinking, I dashed into the corridors.

"Rose! Doctor!" I yelled, but received no answer. The ship shuttered again, sending me to the wall and down the ground.

Heat Levels critical.

Planet explodes in 10...9...8...7...

I forced myself up against the wall and walked forwards. "Rose!" I called. I'd figure she'd be closer than the Doctor. "Rose!"

6...5...4...

I stopped a few feet before reaching the room the Doctor, Rose and I had been in earlier. "Rose!" I called.

3...2...1...

I shut my eyes and awaited death. It never came. I reopened my eyes and saw the ship was normal and...not blasted.

Rose bust through the doors, "Joy?"

I smiled, "Rose!"

She rushed to hug me, "Thank God you're okay!"

"Were you trapped in there?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"C'mon!" I pulled her towards the gallery again. "Let's see if the Doctor's back."

Sure enough, he was inside and looking around. When he saw us, he immediately joined us.

"Didn't I tell you NOT to leave this place?" He demanded from me.

"Didn't I say it was bullshit?" I raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes, "Moving on. I've got 2 ideas: Idea 1, teleportation through 5000° needs some kind of feed. Idea 2, this feed must be hidden nearby," He walked over to the ostrich egg and broke it open, revealing the teleportation feed. "Idea 3, if you're as clever as me then a teleportation feed can be reversed," He twisted the feed and made Cassandra appear again.

"...Oh." Cassandra stared at us, clearly shocked to be back.

"Look at that, the piece of scrap is back." I crossed my arms, smirking.

"Uh, so...you passed my little test," She began nervously, "This makes you eligible to join the, er...human club?"

"People have died, Cassandra," The Doctor said, serious, "You murdered them."

"Well that depends on your definition of 'people'. And that's enough of a technicality to keep your lawyers dizzy for centuries. Take me to court then, Doctor! Watch me smile and cry and flutter..."

"And creak?" I raised an eyebrow.

"What?" She glanced to me.

"You're creaking..." My smirk widened, "What's the matter? Run out of moisturizer?"

"What? No! Moisturize me! Moisturize me!" She cried as her skin became tighter and her eyes bloodshot red.

"You raised the temperature," the Doctor said.

"Oh please! Have pity!" Cassandra exclaimed, "Moisturize me!"

"I can't have pity for someone who tried killing me," I glared.

"Help her,"" Rose said to the Doctor as she trembled.

"Everything has its time and everything dies." The Doctor replied quietly, glaring to Cassandra.

"But I'm too young!" Cassandra exploded.

I was a bit scared myself but...she had it coming. I glanced at the Doctor and saw he was completely unfazed by it. Like a rock. He left the room without a word.

~0~

I stared out the glass window, seeing what was once was my home. Now, it was just rocks and gas. Funny how things revert back to the early ages for everything. The planet started with rocks and gas, and now it was just that. Humans started as children who need guidance and sadly, most end up as children again who need the guidance of their own offspring to survive.

How will the galaxy end, I ask myself?

How will I end?

"It's sad," Rose startled me from behind. I looked back and saw her and the Doctor standing by the stairs. "Our planet was here and no one saw it go..." She walked towards me.

"We were too busy saving ourselves," I muttered, returning my gaze to the window, "All our history...all our accomplishments...gone."

"All of humanity..." Rose whispered, "It's just us."

"Come with me," The Doctor grabbed our hands and led us to the TARDIS.

~0~

We stepped out into streets of our dear planet; fully restored. Though, it was the past. People were walking here and there, having conversations, yelling for advertisement etc.

"You think it'll last forever," I whispered sadly, "All the places I've seen..." I started walking ahead, "It'll be gone one day. Everyone I know...everyone I've met..." I stared, "It won't matter." I turned around to the Doctor and Rose, ready to say something but saw they were having a conversation of their own. It looked deep in a sense. I felt like an outsider, an intruder almost. I waited for them to finish and when they did, they walked over to me; Rose nuzzled up to the Doctor's arm.

"We're going to get chips, you wanna come?" She asked.

"Chips?" I repeated, momentarily confused, "Oh! French fries!" I exclaimed, making them laugh, "Um su-..." I watched the two suddenly, studying them, "N-no...um...I have to head home...I need to...change...but I can meet you in an hour."

"Are you sure?" The Doctor asked.

I nodded, "Yeah...go ahead."

Rose smiled brightly, "We'll see you later then"

"Mhm." I nodded and watched them leave. I stared after them, watching them become closer. "I really hope this doesn't turn out to be a 'Third-Wheel' trip."

[lovemychoices]

Before There Was You-5B

TRR X ROE

Song Inspiration : Ruelle - War of Hearts

Three years ago while travelling in Europe, Eve Sommers was involved in a car accident. She woke up from her coma two weeks later with no memory of what happened to her in the past seven months. Three years later and still no recollection about what happened to her before the accident. But all of that is about to change. Will she finally know the truth? Will there be consequences?

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 2300.

Chapter Summary: It’s the night of the masquerade ball will Eve impress the royal family?

A/N : This is my first fiction series so it will definitely not be 100% perfect. In other words be kind :). Feedback and comments are welcomed, also hit that reblog button if you like what you read. Sorry for any grammatical errors! I only proof read this like once or twice.

So this is my last posting of the series for this week. Chapter 6 will come up sometime next? I’ve honestly been having a bit of block lately 🤣 But no worries I won’t leave ya hanging for too long.

Catch up with the series HERE

Warning : I’m rating this PG18 cause there will probably be PG18 stuff that’s going to happen in future chapters. So if you read this series you acknowledge that you are 18 and above.

BTWY TAGLISt: @thecordoniandiaries @leelee10898 @ao719 @annekebbphotography @desiree-0816 @rainbowsinthestorm @emceesynonymroll @the-soot-sprite @carabeth @cora-nova @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @jlpplays1 @pixieferry @romanticatheart-posts @kingliam2019

As the clock struck six, Liam took his place in the palace foyer next to his father the King and stepmother the Queen and started to greet their guests as they entered. Each time someone approached Liam would take a peak at the person standing behind hoping that it would be Eve. Outside he was stoic but inside he was as anxious and excited as a five year old at a theme park, after their short encounter this morning he couldn’t wait to see her again and introduces her to his family. He finally catches a glimpse of her standing in line behind Lady Kiara, she might have been wearing a mask but he’d remember those emerald eyes and smile anywhere.

Finally it was her turn to walk up and greet the royal family. “Good evening your Majesties.” She greets with a curtsy and a soft smile. “Thank you for inviting me to join the social season it’s such an honour.”

“Father, Regina. I’d like you to meet Eve Sommers, she is the one I have been telling you about.” Liam smiles as he introduces her. The King and Queen both scan her head to toe, she looks the part but can she pull the act. They thought to themselves. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Eve, Liam was so excited when you accepted his invitation. I Eve you’ll have a wonderful stay throughout this Event and look forward to seeing more of you.” Constantine says with a rueful smile on his face.

“Thank you your Sir, I’m sure I will.” She grins and turns to face Liam.

“Eve why don’t you go and join the rest inside the ballroom. I’ll see you in a bit. Save me a dance?” He smiled with a wink.

“I will be looking forward to it your highness.” She grins dipping a low curtsy before walking away.

Walking through the large white with gold trim doors a little gasp of awe escapes Eve as took in the sight of the magnificent ballroom. They didn’t call it the Grand ballroom for nothing. The room had a huge ceiling decorated with paintings, massive crystal chandeliers hung above illuminating the entire room. The walls were consumed by great arched windows finely decorated with gold paint which matched the velvet drapes. Eve continues to decends down the grand staircase scanning the room for someone she knows. Where is Maxwell? she thinks, it was so hard to tell which of these nobles was him with everyone wearing a mask. She notices Hana standing by one of the table tops, she could recognise her from her outfit which she wore when they ran into each other earlier on. She smiles and proceeds to walk towards Hana when she feels someone pull her to the side as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“So you must be the infamous Eve Sommers I’ve been hearing about this past month.” The Red head woman sneers. Eve yanks her arm off the Redheads grip scanning her head to toe trying to figure out who she is only to smile when she does. “You must be Olivia, Liam told me about you.”

“That’s Duchess Olivia Nevrakis to you.” She retorts with both hands placed on her waist. “And if Liam told you about me then you’ll also know that we’re very close and I love him like a brother, so if you EVER hurt him intentionally.” She roughly pulls Eve close to her and whispers in an intimidating voice. “I carry knives under my outfits wherever I go and wouldn’t hesitate to use one on you should I need to.”

“Olivia!” Drake hisses, his eyes narrowed at her. Olivia gave him a sharp sneer, she let’s go of Eve’s arm and straightens the wrinkles on her dress. “It was nice talking to you Eve, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other very soon.” She smirks then walks away.

Drakes steps closer to Eve rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, Olivia can be a little bit protective when it comes to Liam.”

“She’s not the only one.” Eve shrugs. “And you didn’t have to step in, I could have handled it on my own.”

Drake heaves a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry if I was an ass back on the plane. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you were a crown chaser cause you’re not Eve, I know that. I was just trying to protect you to protect Liam, this place might look all glittery and glamorous on the outside but behind the curtains shit happens. Especially to commoners like us, just be carefull alright?”

Eve’s lips forms into a thin smile and gently nods. “I understand your concern but I can take care of myself, plus if you think nobles like Olivia scare me you should see the mean girls I had to deal with in prep school.”

Drake chuckles “No thanks, I’ll take my chances with the Olivia. So anyway are we still friends? He asks holding out his hand.

Eve smiles and shakes his hand in agreement.“Friends. Now I’m hungry, wanna get some food to eat by the horderves table?”

Drake snorts “I’m not sure those are classified as foods but sure why not.”

**

After all the guests have arrived it was finally time for the royal family to take their place by the entrance of the ballroom. Liam took a deep breath and exhaled as he waited to the herald to announce their entry, he could wait to see Eve again and have their first dance together.

Eve, Drake, Hana and Maxwell were standing near one of the high tables enjoying their drinks while chatting when the herald announces the Royal families arrival. First enters the King and Queen followed by Prince Liam from behind.

“Heads up little blossom.” Maxwell nudges with a wink as Liam approaches their direction.

“Eve...May I have this dance?” He asks with a soft smile. “It would be my pleasure your highness.” She grins.

Liam takes her hand and whisks her out onto the dance floor of the grand ballroom. All the nobles started to stare some began whispering to each other, all wondering who the mystery woman who got the prince attention was. Was she a princess or a duchess maybe from a foreign country? The look on their faces when they knew she was nothing more than a commoner and not just that an American as well.

As the orchestra plays the music, Liam leads Eve in a waltz around the room. They both glide effortlessly together and soon the other nobles began to join in.

“Your pretty good at this.” Liam grins. “Your not too bad yourself Mr.” She winks playfully. “Honestly I didn’t even know I could waltz until today it all just came naturally to me. I hope I’m doing it right.”

Liam chuckles. “You’re doing fine as long as you don’t step on any toes. So I see you’ve managed to make some new friends.”

Eve snorts. “Yeah Drake may not admit it but I know he’s starting to warm up to me and I met Hana in the boutique earlier on she seems nice.”

“That’s good to know.” He smiles and they continue to dance.

A few moments later the song starts to wind down, Liam’s hand still lingers on Eves waist, He’s eyes searching hers.

“Eve there’s something I need to tell you, I haven’t been really honest about why invited you here and—.”

“Ahem, sorry the two of you but if you don’t mind Eve, I’d like to cut in, me and the prince have a few matters to discuss.” Olivia interrupts with a smirk.

“Oh… of course.” Liam says with a rueful smile and turns to Eve. “Sorry, I’ll find you once I’m done and then we’ll talk?”

Eve gives a light nod and walks away from the dance floor. I could you a drink. She thought and walks towards the champagne table. She’s about to take a glass when she hears some of the ladies talking about her a few meters away.

“Can you believe she’s a commoner?” One of the ladies mocks as she scans Eve from Head to toe. “She does have great taste though, I love that dress.”

“I heard she and the prince met when he was on vacation in New York apparently they spent time together while he was there. They had a connection.”

“It doesn’t matter if she and the prince have a connection, she’ll never last a week in court.” A woman with blonde hair and green eyes shrugs.

Eves jaw began to clench her grip on champagne flute began to tighten. If they were in New York she’d probably give them a piece of her mind, but she knew she couldn’t not without embarrassing Liam. Breathe in breathe out, you’ve dealt with meaner girls in highschool. She thinks to herself. “I need to get some air.” She says and heads to the balcony with a drink in her hand.

**

Leo leans towards the balcony looking out at the palace gardens taking a sip of his scotch. He could hear the faint sounds of nobles chatting and gossiping from behind him. He always hated how two faced the nobles could be, always out and about in other people's business, most of them would stab the other in the back if they thought it benefited them. It was the reason why he chose to stay for the social season he needed to be there for his brother especially now that Liam needed to prove that Eve would be the perfect Queen for Cordonia and for him, it's the least he could do after he abdicated and left this hell of a mess behind.

Eve’s the girl his brother is head over heels for, the same girl he fell in love with three years ago and even still till this very day. He snorts as he thought about the irony of it all, but she deserves better and so does his brother.

He is slowly pulled from his thoughts when he hears the sound of soft clicks from someone's heels walking towards him a gust of wind blew by and he could smell her perfume from where he was standing, he’d recognise that scent anywhere.

“Hey you,” Eve greets him with a smile, “I didn’t see you with the rest of the royal family when I came in, where were you?

“Formality isn’t really my thing.” He grins. “I prefer sneaking into parties. It’s easier to avoid the spotlight that way.”

She chuckles at his answer and he smiled. He always loved it when she smiled or laughed. It was good to know after all these years how good she was doing for herself, then again she couldn’t remember all the heartbreak he had put her through, the secrets and lies he kept from her during their six months together.

“So Eve, why are you out here instead of in there by my brothers side?” He asks.

“Well Olivia interupted us, said she had some thing to discuss with Liam. I couldn’t find anyone nice to talk to so here I am.” She answers and take a sip of her drink.

Their conversation was cut short by Liam as he walks out onto the balcony looking for Eve. “There you are I’ve been looking all over for you” Liam smiles, walking right next to Eve wrapping one arm on her waist while leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry that took a little longer than expected.”

“It’s okay, the duties of a prince.” She winks.

“Leo, what are you doing alone out here? Normally you’d be with Maxwell by now having one your shenanigans.” Liam jokes.

Leo chuckles. “The night is still young brother, but speaking of Maxwell I’d better go find him before he does anything stupid without me.” Leo looks between Liam and Eve. “Besides I’m sure the two of you must have a lot of catching up to do.” He winks playfully then leaves in a huff.

Liam turns to Eve and takes her hand in his smiling fondly at her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you earlier on.If there is anything I can do to make it up to you.”

“Well.” She paused for a moment biting her lower lip. “I did remember you promised me a personal tour around the palace.”

Liam chuckles. “That could be arranged in a few minutes, but there's something I need to tell you.” He took her hand in his. Eve purses her lips, she wonders where this is going. “Eve, I haven’t been completely honest with you. By the end of the social season my father will be stepping down and I will take his place as king.”

“Wow that’s amazing news Liam, congratulations.” She beamed then searches his eyes, she could tell from the look he gave that there was more to it than he’s letting on. She lifts her eyebrows as her smile slowly fades. “But there’s something else?”

Liam give a slight nod his lips forming into a thin line. “Cordonia traditions and law demand that a prince has to be married or at least engaged before the night of his coronation.”

“Oh but that means—.”

“I have to pick someone as my fiancée by the end of the social season. My father proposed that I take Countess Madeleine a my future wife but I rejected his idea because,” Liam paused biting his lower lip, he felt his heart racing afraid of how she would react from what he was going to say. “Eve, I like you a lot and getting to know you this past month was the most happiest I’ve ever been and I wonder if you feel the same way because I want us to be something more.”

Eve cups Liam’s cheek with both hands and looked into his eyes. “Liam, I like you too. But asking me to be your fiancée when we’ve only known each other for more than a month that just sounds reckless.”

“Eve, I’m not asking you to marry me right away but at least give us a chance until the end of a social season. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other see if we’re compatible.”

Eve lets go of his face, her lips forming a thin line. “And if we’re not? If either of us realises this is not what we want? Liam we’re not just talking about potentially destroying our relationship but our friendship as well.”

“It won’t I promise you, no matter what happens, no matter what you chose.” Liam said, once again taking her hand in his giving it a soft squeeze. “So what do you say Evelyn Sommers? Five months is all I ask for you to give me a chance. To make you fall in love and sweep you off your feet. Are you willing to give this a try? Are you willing to give us a try?”

[nihilnovisubsole]

Do you have any tips considering fanfics with original characters as protagonists? Specific issues to look out for? I admire your writing and your writing advice, you put everything so well into words. Perhaps you've thought about this in more detail as well. I feel like fanfics with original characters are difficult to make intriguing or worthwhile for readers.

yeah, i have thought about it, and i wish i had some kind of sagely, concise answer to give you. this is going to be another long post, sorry. i mulled it over for a few days and i’ve got a lot on my mind.

i don’t know if i could tell you anything from a prose standpoint about “how to write better fanfic with OC protagonists.” i think writing a fan character is, with a few exceptions, pretty much the same as writing a canon character. they have to talk and behave like a real person. they have to be consistent, or have a good reason for it when they’re not. they have to go through events in the story that challenge them. basically, they have to be flesh and blood. if you can find the spark of life in a canon character you love, you can put one in an OC, too.

the only material difference is that they belong to you, and because of that, there’s no “bible” of canon content to refer to. you’re on your own for things like their character arc and dialogue voice. sure, there might be people who are skeptical of them based on their preconceptions about OC fic. but that’s not something you have any control over, so if you ask me, it’s not something that should sway your writing decisions.

on the flipside, a lot of the “issues” i could tell you to “look out for” could just as easily apply to an original fic. “have a cohesive plot arc with conflict, rising action, and a conclusion that makes sense?” that’s every story. “make the premise interesting?” that means three different things to three different people. there’s not much, at least to my eye, that’s only relevant when you’re introducing an OC into a canon universe.

so, when it comes down to it, i feel like writing OC fic is less about how you do it and more about your attitude toward it. it’s not an undertaking where you can bring your shame to the table. every writing project i’ve done, most of all fanfic, has started out with me planning not to tell anyone about it. i always go, “this is ridiculous, i can’t admit i made this OC,” or “i’ll write one passage to get it out of my system, but i won’t publish it.” once i’m in, the fun takes over, and i peel off those layers of embarrassment as i grow more and more fond of the premise and characters. there’s prudence, of course, and good taste, but at the risk of sounding corny… at some point, you just have to let your enthusiasm lead the way.

so, that said:

is there another side to the story/world that interests you enough to explore?

is there a side character you think has untapped potential? was there a mission or episode detail you wanted to explore in more depth? did you ever wonder how the big, heroic main plot might have affected people and places that you didn’t see? if you want to write about big pairings and big, popular subjects and your OC is just the lens the reader sees it all through, great! but if something else grabs you, pursue it, because nobody else is going to have a take on it that’s exactly like yours.

if the story is good, it won’t matter whether an OC or a canon character is the protagonist. it’s just a good story, full stop. if someone won’t take a chance on it because it has an OC lead, it goes back to what i said earlier - that’s on them, not you.

are you writing from a place that is emotionally meaningful to you?

you don’t have to lift something whole-cloth from your own experience. i know it’s annoying to hear people say that you do, and with many fandoms, it’d be impossible. i mean, who among us has fought aliens? but what do you feel strongly about? what emotions have you been through? is there a kind of character or relationship you really want to see? what’s the small, glowing grain of truth within the character that’s going to take them from being a puppet to “a real boy?”

some people will tell you to keep your main characters at arm’s length in case you have to do something nasty to them down the line. i don’t. i always fling myself into it. i’ve talked about that before. does it hurt more when people don’t like them? sure it does, but it forces me to be a more compassionate writer, and i feel the results are worth it. irina, jo, sabrael, marcus and livia, everyone else - i carved a piece of my guts into all of them, and now i’ve served it to you. gross!

and lastly, but most importantly:

do you love the character?

of course you love your character! what kind of a question is that?

and if you don’t, then… why not? i’m not judging, just asking. are they new, and you haven’t had time to get to know them yet? do they come with baggage because you’re worried about them being “cringe?” [if so, cut it out. remember what i said about shame.]

or maybe you just haven’t found the key that will open the locked door of “knowledge of how to write them, and the fondness that comes with it.” every character, to me, starts out with that door, and the key is different every time - a personality trait, an item of clothing, their dialogue voice, something that happened in their backstory, etc. for some characters, the key is much harder to find than others. i don’t know why. but if you haven’t found it yet, don’t worry. keep looking.

here’s the theory that i like: people can tell when you care. if you’ve made something with love, that shines through, regardless of your skill level. if you get excited when you think of a new idea for their story, write it with the same amount of glee you get from envisioning it. if you’ve had the character for so long that it’s become a fictional companion to you, those nuances you’ve learned about them will show up in the writing, just like a real old friend.

sadly, i can’t promise you that doing all that will result in a huge reader turnout or tons of feedback. i wish it did. it doesn’t always. you can work hard and do your best, and it still might not translate to a high level of engagement. but just because the internet is weird, fickle, and cruel doesn’t mean you won’t end up with a cool story that you should be proud of. i’m not saying that should be enough to satisfy you. we all want people to read what we write. we’d be lying if we said we didn’t. i’m just saying that if you write an OC fic from start to finish, you will have achieved something. don’t think it being fanwork diminishes it.

some extra parting thoughts:

for what it’s worth, i’m glad to see the mary sue thing is - at least in places - in its death throes. because, honestly, it’s 2019. it’s time for us to move on. and, look, i’m not a fool. i’ve been engaging with fan content since i was a preteen. i’ve seen OCs where i didn’t buy what the creator was selling me. maybe their visual design didn’t mesh with the main cast. maybe they were a weird choice for their canon-character love interest. maybe they were handed too much, or maybe they lost too much, or anything else from that grab bag of mary sue mortal sins that really live or die on the execution, not the concept.

did i get invested in their stories? no. is that a problem? of course not. i still hoped they had fun and kept working with them, because fun leads to practice, and practice - eventually - leads to skill. brushing all that off as “lol its a mary sue it sux” is intellectually lazy, and also beside the point. the point was for the creator to have fun with a piece of media they enjoy. if they did that, my opinion that an angel vampire with natural pink eyes might be a strange match for sherlock isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.

[comicteaparty]

June 6th-June 12th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from June 6th, 2020 to June 12th, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

How do you personally decide to kill-off a character, and how do you handle it?

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

I never kill a char for shock or to motivate other characters (hate, hate, HATE those tropes); but if that character's decisions result in their death, so be it. But I always double check if decisions with huge results like death make sense for that character, to avoid the "ideot ball" problem.

Mind you, I only have three character's whose death would break the story, all others are fair game.

Miranda

I have yet to kill a character. But I do have a death planned...and right now the reasoning is to show how far a character has come from being a self-preservationist ass. If I maintain that route it won’t be done lightly and the person who does it will feel the weight of their decision.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Any deaths in my current work happened before the story started, and... that changed nothing. They’re still characters in the story I don’t know if I could actually KILL-kill a character without knowing that their death is an important stepping-stone to the plot’s conclusion. But even then, the character can feel more like a device than a person. Maybe for a future work, I can do it... but... for this one... I’m actually banking on things worse than death

copperine (Lady Changeling)

I have a main character death planned. It's not quite the same as most deaths but explaining further would be spoilers.

That is... not a helpful contribution, but oh well.

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

It's such a battle of 'do or do not' at times with these things! You want that death to make an impact for the story, however it may lend to the narrative, and that makes planning just when and where so difficult!. When we first started writing GJS, we had SO MANY planned deaths! That was the first draft, which when we read it later as we approached those parts, made us realise that these character kill offs didnt really affect the story in a way readers would care for. (in fact, it was a chapter before that we decided to save an important one!) We later calmed down our edgy-ness, and had any such sort of death fit more cohesive with the tone of the story-- and I think that is a big part!

mariah (rainy day dreams)

I've had kind of a similar character death journey with my story. There were a lot more for more shallow reasons when I was starting out. I think that probably is also a symptom of writting most of those deaths as an edgy teenager :p But over time I've cut a lot of them or rewritten them, in the case of backstory deaths, so that they're more nuanced. Even the like three I have planned to happen as plot points may end up being changed by the time I get to actually scripting it. Honestly, if I was writing a new story I'm not sure how I would approach having death involved or if I would. Death is a really defining experience. For the backstory deaths in RDD they're included because they define some aspect of the characters they effect. Sometimes it's movtivation (though not the I Must Avenge! kind) and sometimes it's just how they view the world. I think that's the way I would continue to use death as a device, though there are all kinds of other experiences that can create the same outcome. Death isn't always the most interesting device to use for creating depth or raising the stakes.

carcarchu

In PP the eliminations are kind of the equivalent of dying. Most of them don't have a lot of emotional weight but i'm really dreading having to eliminate the more important supporting characters later. i feel like the author of Princess when she wrote in her author's notes that she couldn't stop crying when she had to kill off her main character and had to draw through the tears, that's me but like 100 chapters from now

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I wholeheartedly agree, Mariah. I think as we grow, we find out ways to problem solve without being so absolute about our decisions in a sense

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I have killed off characters in my story; heck, their deaths are part of of the whole problem! I chose to kill them off because they’re not just one off characters; their deaths have a major impact on my protagonist’s character development. If they have to die, then they shouldn’t be dismissed at all. Rather, it has long lasting effects of trauma and that’s something the protagonist has to move on from.

carcarchu

Oh and also in my second story which i have not drawn yet the main character dies in the first chapter but she comes back to life after winning a bet with a demon and that whole thing is an extremely important plot point that ties the entire series together

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Like @LadyLazuli (Phantomarine), most of my character deaths happened before the story even begun. Most of them were incredibly important to one character or more. Although... Since the story of Whispers of the Past is told largely through flashback, it feels like these deaths just happened. And when I wrote the prequel stories to my comic, I battled myself over a certain death that I didn't want to happen. I realized very quickly that I don't make the rules.

eliushi [a winged tale]

My kill test is: if the character dies, what sorts of impact would it have on other characters? The narrative? Readers? Could it be misinterpreted as a message I wouldn’t want to send as an author? And what happens if the character survives? I do have planned character deaths as I don’t want my characters to have plot armour. I approach this by designing the deaths/narrative and events leading up to it important and impactful. Hopefully I’ll stick the landing.

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

(omg Kill Test Eli)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

That’s a really good test to use, Eli. It’s good to understand what a character’s impact is on the whole story if they die. Deaths are pretty traumatic, so it would also work to see how other characters react to it.

mariah (rainy day dreams)

The "what happens if the character survives" is the big one I always consider it's the one that has saved a lot of characters because the answer has been more interesting for me to write than the death was XD(edited)

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

That's fascinating to think about... Holy hell, if one particular character didn't die, it would be an entirely different story!

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Sometimes the survival of a character has even more impact than the death. Unless they come back as a ghost, which in this case, they can still actively influence the story as opposed to being inactive

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

generally when i'm writing character arcs, i start from the end and work backwards. so if at some point in an arc i get to something like "this character needs to experience death for their growth" i'll put a character earlier in their story to get killed off. or if the character arc ended with the character's death, i'll make sure to build up to it throughout. i guess my style of writing is kinda different to some others'? in the sense that i don't go "ok here are my OCs, let's see what happens to them" - rather, i go "here's what happened to my OCs, let's see how they got there". though, that does kinda result in me tipping my hand a bit, lol. like if a character gets killed by one of the protagonists, i'll generally make the killed character a big jerk. if the character is killed by an antagonist to spur on the protagonists, i'll generally make the killed character really likeable.

eliushi [a winged tale]

I also consider when you want to kill a character during an arc. An incomplete arc is more heartbreaking than one that is complete before the end

That’s totally fair snuffysam. It’s all about the perspective

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

ohh that is an interesting way to write Snuffy-- that would definitely produce interesting results and a cool way to tackle character development

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

It is a good way of thinking and also introduces a lot of possibilities. Because what if the character killed by the protagonists had legitimate grief/beef? Or that the story hints at their backstory a bit more and show them to be more human? It can set up some good questions about the moral grey area.

I like to believe that each character thinks they are their own protagonist of the story....whether it be heroic, anti heroic, villainous or in between.

eliushi [a winged tale]

Sometimes the survival of a character has even more impact than the death. Unless they come back as a ghost, which in this case, they can still actively influence the story as opposed to being inactive

It’s also interesting to think about death as a concept. If your story deals with an after death story vs death as an absolute vs reincarnation one

Death itself can mean different things to individual characters

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Death of a friend, death of a loved one....death of a personality.

Or even growing up can be seen as one, since it’s death of your childhood.

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

Because what if the character killed by the protagonists had legitimate grief/beef? Or that the story hints at their backstory a bit more and show them to be more human? It can set up some good questions about the moral grey area.

Yeah, exactly. Like, I have a character who is currently stricken with guilt over a guy he killed. And, like, the killed guy in question was a huge jerk as mentioned, but, like... he had a family. So it's a lot of figuring out what one could do to make up for that sort of thing.

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Exactly. Even if they were portrayed as jerks (or actually are jerks, like in the case of your story)...they're still people and have their own stories to tell, too.

Imagine the stories you lose out when you completely demonize or put someone on a pedestal.....not seeing them as human at all.

eliushi [a winged tale]

I definitely prefer round rather than flat characters and even if it’s one who’s only seen once in the story, I like to add some contrasting characteristics to hint at their “person” even though their roles are small. It’s the little things that will be most impactful especially when they die

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

especially when they die oh my god Eli your bloodthirst is showing

eliushi [a winged tale]

I there’s a place for characters who are designed to pass for the sake of the story’s theme/character impact/setting danger

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

hmmm there is. And the trope is called Stuffed in the Fridge, when that character is specifically slated to die for the sake of story progression, like you said.(edited)

eliushi [a winged tale]

Stuffed into the Fridge: A character is killed off in a particularly gruesome manner and left to be found just to offend or insult someone, or to cause someone serious anguish.

I think there’s a fine line between the intentions for sure

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Absolutely. Depending on how you write it, you can pull if off very, very well.

Oh! I think I meant to say the lost lenore

Usually people who have died and who end up driving the characters' motivations, my bad

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

yeah there are times that killing off a character for another character's progression can be done well like the first 15 minutes of Up are considered some of the best scenes in pixar history and that's totally lost lenore

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

It all depends if the character actually was a character with their own hopes or dreams or just a thing to be smashed to make someone sad.

Did the character who died have agency? Did they have their own hopes and dreams?

Thing is, I personally only care for character‘s death if I also cared about their lifes.

It‘s hard to explain, but so many lifes only seem to matter in stories because they matter for someone more valuable; and there‘s a definite pattern which character gets to be valuable on their own and which one is only cared about because it impacts someone deemed more worthy.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Gurren Lagann is still my benchmark for a meaningful, impactful, heart-wrenching character death - one that propels the story forward (eventually) but also brings it to a screeching halt long enough to really delve into the emotions behind it. It's a death that doesn't feel necessary at first, but you look back and see the doors it opened to deeper conflicts.

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

Ohhh, character death!! I'm gonna second a lot of opinions here about death having to be relevant and affecting other characters; and I sure wanna bring the point home that even in war, violence has meaning and life and death have meaning too. Deaths of characters happen mostly for plot reasons: they happen so I can show things (about them or about the others around them). I like to think in terms of what characters represent and the way a character dies says a lot about what you personally think about the things they represent. So I have characters that from moment one I could say "Oh no this guy's gotta die and he's gonna have to die a LOT". Also gonna go there and say that yeah sure I am guilty of the killing for motivating other characters, but also to put the plot in motion. Others, I hope, also tell us something about the characters involved in their deaths...(edited)

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

(YESS CLAIRE!!! I always say the Kamina Death when we talk about that possibility in stories XD it was such a good impact)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I know people bring it up SO MUCH (along with one in Madoka... which was equally shocking!) but there's a reason they do!

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

hhh yesssss Madoka too!

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

those deaths are brought up for very good reasons, they are huge marking points in both narratives

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

Madoka and the deaths in it always felt shallow to me. I facepalmed and went „of course“ on the first one. I knew it would happen from the moment the happy music started.

eliushi [a winged tale]

Deaths are just another plot device. Just have to make them count... or not... depending on what you want to do as the author! Imagine all the control... But to make a death impactful, that’s a harder question. For your wips, I’m curious what are your go to tips? Great points about agency, multifaceted, relationships with other characters.

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

.........Write them as a character first before their relationships with others. Or if you do write their relationships first...brainstorm why they interact with others the way they do. Did something in their life influence it?

And...never stop asking questions about your characters. Fire away them yourself or have a friend ask you constantly. Thinking fast sometimes helps you get an eureka! moment about your characters and reach a deep part you might not have realized it at first.

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

I started the story knowing I was gonna have to kill a character in the next one or two chapters and I wanted it to matter; if I had started the story killing him right away, it would look too much like a cheap, shock-value death, and its impact on the other characters could possibly look like an overreaction. So I had to make sure that character would have a lot of interactions with others that would show at least the points of his personality that I cared for the most.(edited)

It felt like running against the clock and everytime he was on the spotlight I was just "oh no I gotta make this count, I gotta make him matter" and I hope I could make it look like he mattered to the people around him(edited)

eliushi [a winged tale]

I really like that shizamura! Making the scene and character portrayal count as we slowly move towards their demise

I’m also curious when people realize a death flag for a character. I try not to hint at the death until it happens but I’m sure there are some things that clue the readers in

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

I tried using red flags by making other characters sound like they'd be the ones to die to draw attention from my target, tho I don't know to which extent that work

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I don't think anyone actually disagrees with me, but just bringing up a counter-point: character death does not have to be surprising to be impactful!

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

agreed!

DanitheCarutor

Depends on the story, I have a couple where characters die. One is a fantasy/sci-fi/war story where death just happens, it has a mix of the overall horror of war and the desensitization to it all, but there is also a scene where it has personal significance in a good and bad way. (Super vague, I know.) I also have a cosmic horror/fantasy comic where characters die, but they don't officially go until their souls are gone, so "death" doesn't have much importance but the devourment of souls and fading away of old souls has a sobering importance, with the former having an almost taboo feeling. I will admit to really enjoying low-blow gallows humor, as a mean joke I was actually considering making a fake ending in my current comic where an important character dies, making the other have to reflect on everything alone, and it would have dropped the story into full blown Tragedy territory. Doing this solely to see how my readers would react, but that would be too mean, and I don't have the energy or time for something like that. Although in all seriousness, as desensitized as I am to death and gore, I personally try to handle death as respectfully as possible. It's a big deal, and I don't like the use of it as a cheap story device.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Death... Hm. I have very few stories in which I actually kill off Characters. For me, personally, the Characters kind of live in my head, and if I know I am going to kill them they are sort of "branded" in a sense in a way that taints them for me even while I'm working with them when they're alive. It's hard to explain, but I look at those Characters differently and it's always in the context of making the death as powerful as I can, rather than the kinds of things I enjoy working on more. So, I very rarely decide to kill Characters. I can find more uses for them when they're alive! The only time I will do it is if it's a short story, and the death is an intrinsic part of the tale, or in longer stories if it is something to establish stakes (if I want the stakes to be death, sometimes I don't!) Other than that, I really try to write around deaths, cause sometimes Character deaths feel like "and now we don't have to deal with writing them anymore!" Rather than being something very potent. I've not yet had a character die outside of story outlines and plans. So I'm not sure I can say how I approach it, yet.

Tantz Aerine (Without Moonlight)

Every character that dies in my stories hurts. Some more than others for sure, but they all hurt me I don't know if it makes sense but I try to save them. It's just that their personalities and choices tie my hands. If I can save them in a way that would be plausible for the story setting, I do. I like happy endings. Usually, the deaths in my stories leave gaping holes. In the style of 'things would have gone much better if so-and-so hadn't died.' And if I kill, I kill permanently. No fake outs.

Nutty (Court of Roses)

I rarely think about character deaths very often, myself. I know, weird, right, considering I have a murder mystery in my own comic? However, the victim, Count Bailey, was a death I was ready for and planned very carefully around. In the brief time we saw him alive, he was likeable and fair, to get readers wanting justice for his murder. He was also passionate in his beliefs, and this last bit allowed me to hit the ground running with possible motivations for the killer(s?). As time goes on, I also plan to reveal more about him as well. So, even though he's dead, he's still very much an active character. Retroactive? But, yeah, I suppose that's a bit of a different take from others, considering the genre. In general, I'm not a fan of killing off characters, unless it drives the story, and I would be hard-pressed to do it especially to a character my readers have bonded with. That feels cruel to me, and I wouldn't want to do that to other people.

I want to make clear that I'm definitely not judging others for doing that! It's just not the kind of writing I could do myself.

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

Yeah that's exactly my thinking too. Like sometimes a character (or multiple) needs to die to move the story forward, but I can't imagine writing something Game of Thrones-like where every week you tune in to see who's gonna die. Like, I just can't imagine writing character arcs in that sort of environment, unless I was writing some experimental story about characters dealing with their own mortality in different ways. Like a more philosophical Final Destination. Not to knock anyone who does, but I just can't write like that.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

This might be splitting hairs or something, but I feel like while I am not at all against "character deaths," I don't like to "kill off characters." Probably an approach/mindset difference (and different approaches are all valid!) rather than a difference in the results.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

It's kinda the same for me. Because I don't really "kill off characters," they just... die, and I'm basically just a witness.

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

I killed my protagonist in the first chapter

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Well, I mean, with a title like Hans Vogel is Dead...

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

but also there's a difference between killing a character and necessarily removing them from the narrative altogether: I used to be SUPER into killing ALL THE CHARACTERS!11! when I was younger and have since moved away from it (a lot in part because of how turned off I was from GoT) and have been trying other ways of getting rid of characters

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Honestly, why can't more characters leave because they left on a journey or something?

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

yeah!

or like, opened a bookstore or something

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Yeah!

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

or if they're bad there's a lot worse things (dramatic music)

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

ooof

I mean

I don't know if I'd like to see anything too gruesome, even for villains

(Doesn't help that my villain is my favorite)

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

oh no, I'm a baby lmao I can't do gore and that kinda stuff :''"D

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I mean, or mental torture

nah thanks

I'd rather just let 'em die at that rate

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

I'm a big fan of The Good Place theory of letting them punish themselves

there's a lot of options out there for sure

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

^^^

eliushi [a winged tale]

I’d like to think a character killed on screen give some sort of impact and meaning to other characters and the readers, that can’t be achieved in other ways (leaving for a journey, survived but different, losing memory etc).

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

that's definitely true! it depends on what you want the reader to get out of the character being taken out of the narrative

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

I haven't committed to killing off any characters yet and I'm not sure how I'm going to go about it when I do. Only one character has really died so far (Joe) and that was just the premise for the whole thing so it wasn't a difficult decision. I don't know whether I'm going to kill other characters at this point

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

If I need to get rid of a character, my favourite way is to give them exactly what they want. Since I write adventure stories, that usually leads to their retirement - or with them having to deal with the consequences of the fullfillment, which means they are interesting to write and read about again.

AntiBunny

It really varies depending on what the story calls for, and the character arc. In the case of Nailbat http://nailbat.AntiBunny.net/ the main character's death was already a foregone conclusion from the very beginning. It was the premise of the entire story. Everything built up to that moment.

A character just died in http://AntiBunny.net/ as well. In this case it was more to make a statement. There wasn't a place for this villain's story to go other than prison or death, and I chose to kill him off because he lived inflicting violence on others, and his last moment is one of shock that he'd meet his end at that very same violence. It's a human moment for an otherwise monstrous character as he reaches out, perhaps asking for help, but it's too late.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

My comics don't kill a lot of characters mid-story, but now that I'm thinking about it...there's a whole pattern of "characters whose arcs include managing the fallout of pre-canon deaths."

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Leif & Thorn stars a team of knights that was twice as big before a flubbed dragonslaying mission, so I had to come up with a pack of character designs that I only ever draw when the main cast are reminiscing. https://leifandthorn.com/comic/watching-over-me-629/

eliushi [a winged tale]

Pre-canon deaths I’m also interested in yours or anyone’s approaches to deaths that happen before the story started. What made you decide that? How do you keep the readers interested and care for those who’ve already passed on?

DaeofthePast

i imagine there'd be some flashbacks? :0

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Well, in this case, the readers don't really need to care for the passed-on knights...the important part is you can tell the survivors cared about them. And the survivors are the main cast. So if they're sad about something, you care based on your attachment to them, not based on having a personal attachment to the ex-knights.

🌈ERROR404 🌈

I think that it really depends on the genre for sure. The generic death of the father in a tragic accident can turn into an action protagonist's reason to start their adventure, and never appear again and still work for the genre/ Meanwhile, for something that's noir or mystery styled, the death of the father before the story starts affect very specifically the characters more than the audience. It's important to understand the genre when working with death post mortem

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Occasionally there's a flashback that brings someone out in more detail, but it's for the sake of "let's explore a specific way that character's death is affecting one of the survivors."

boogeymadam

catching up to this for the first time and there's a lot of great advice in here "KILL TEST" ASDFG but like its so wise so i can't make too much fun of it :')

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

The reason I decided to have so many of them was that Thorn is "the only survivor of meeting the dragon face-to-face", and I want readers to appreciate how big a deal that was! A looming pile of non-survivors makes the point pretty well.

boogeymadam

something already mentioned way up there earlier: killing characters to motivate others has been treated kinda taboo lately (and i imagine a lot of pre-canon deaths fall into that category,??) but its a perfectly valid thing to do as long as the characters would be multidimensional regardless of the death. i think. it can definitely depend on the voice the story is trying to have~ Or a readers Knowing The Stakes type death like Erin just mentioned those are fun!

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Honestly, I don't think pre-canon deaths work the same way there. The worst part is when a new character gets introduced and you start to get invested in them, to care about their feelings and think about where their storyline is going, and then it turns out they were just a plot device whose only purpose was to get killed off.

If the character's already gone by the time the story starts, there's none of that bait-and-switch feeling.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I think one of the big issues with "killing characters to motivate others" was sexism; like, far too often it's female characters being killed to motivate the male lead. It's extra questionable when the female character is supposedly equally (or even more so) good at surviving/ fighting as the dude.

But like any trope, it's not inherently bad; there's just been Weird trends with people using them thoughtlessly.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Oh, definitely. If part of the reason you're excited about the new character is "finally, another woman in this dude-heavy series"! (or "finally, a same-sex couple!" or "finally, a black person at all!"...) then it hits doubly hard.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Yeeeeeah...

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Because it's not just "the writer(s) got me invested in this female character and suddenly they offed her", it's also "the writer(s) gave the impression that they were going to include and develop more characters from this underrepresented group, and suddenly it turns out, nope, they didn't care about that at all."

And honestly, that's super easy to offset, if you just put in more variety of characters from the beginning.

DaeofthePast

^^^ I get flashbacks to basically every zombie apocalypse story I've watched.

eliushi [a winged tale]

The bait and switch feeling can be tricky to navigate for sure. I find that act 2 deaths can sometimes feel that way. Act 1 deaths tend to motivate the protagonists/be the inciting incident and act 3 deaths kind of form the finale.

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

Nyx+Nyssa deals with the pre-story death of Nyssa's mother, but her actions and decisions she made before she dies reverbrate through the whole story. She's more a post-mortem character than offed-and-gone. Dead ten years and STILL causing trouble.

... Another reason I don't like death-to-motivate-main-character thing is that it can so, so easily feel cheap and generic, too. "Yay. Another dead romantic interest/younger sibling" way - as if the writer couldn't think of something more interesting or more fitting to the story/setting.

It's like... So many stories use it as the character-motivation equivalent of the "As you know, Bob..." style exposition.

Can it be used well? Yup! Everything can! But it so, so, so often isn't.

AntiBunny

In the case of Pre-canon deaths I do have the mother of the 4 Rabbintlov sisters. In this case while one male character has been chasing revenge all these years, it's more been about how these 4 sisters interact and grow up, without her. The youngest never knowing her mother, the middle two being most traumatized and it becoming a source of strife, while the oldest is wracked with the responsibility of having to be both sister and mother to her younger siblings.

I think deaths that happen before the story tend to be less about the character who died, and how the characters in the story deal with loss, and have to go on without them.

copperine (Lady Changeling)

(I am lurking here because any comments about character death in my own comic are spoilers and I don't have any to mention in the ones I read yet)

DaeofthePast

I haven’t killed anyone off (yet) but I do plan to. This specific character was created for a purpose and once that purpose is done, then I’ll probably kill them off. Unless I think of something else they can do, otherwise there’s no point in keeping them.

Idk how much I want to say without spoiling, uh, I tend to think of character by what role/job I’m having them do in the story. Like, “I need a character can teach the protagonist this life lesson” and then if there’s no existing character that can fill that role, then I create a new character.

So this character that’s going to die has a very important role in the beginning to get the ball rolling. I could possibly keep them, but I’ll be introducing some other characters later on and I might have too many characters to juggle and keep track of by that point So that’s my decision making process for killing them off.

DanitheCarutor

Pre-canon deaths I’m also interested in yours or anyone’s approaches to deaths that happen before the story started. What made you decide that? How do you keep the readers interested and care for those who’ve already passed on?

FFFF I didn't even think about this! I actually have a pre-canon death, from a reader perspective it's supposed to be seen as a third party learning about the death of someone's relative, you see how it affects the characters and memories of them tend to be more romanticized. In all honesty I don't really care if readers are interested in or care about him? I just want them to know he existed at one point, and he that he played a large roll in the MCs lives, holding much greater importance to Julian than Apollo. A lot of brainstorming went into his removal from the main plot, if he stayed my comic wouldn't even be a thing. I considered at one point just having him disappear, but that would honestly be too cruel for the characters, (like when a loved one disappears, leaving the family wondering what happened or if they're still alive. Not having that closure can be devastating for many people.), and the main story is already bleak enough. Lol Presentation wise, I use flashbacks and character discussion, although not a whole lot. Just enough to get an idea of what he meant to them, and what his role was. I want to leave it vague for the audience to speculate. The most recurring approach is the use of photos, or a single photo specifically, since it's the only tangible proof of his existence.

Moral_Gutpunch

I cheated at first. The one who died is a ghost, but talking about him turns into talking about others who died, be they legendary, a death that has political effect or personal effect

Feather J. Fern

I always plan deaths of characters, anyone can die. The favourite, the villian, the best friend, the main character, someone's coffee, anything is free game for my writing.

[hopewritcs]

shipwrecked. one.

pairing: tony stark x f!reader 

word count: 6.7k

summary: au based on the film overboard ( both the 1987 and the 2018 versions influenced this ).  y/n is a widowed mother of four children, who works constantly to make ends meet, and relies on her friends and family to help out with her children.  all the while she’s still working toward her own goal of publishing a novel.  y/n is working at a “last minute emergency” party on a yacht where she meets tony who seems to believe that since it’s his boat, he can order her around like any other person who works for him.  let’s just say their first meeting does not go well, as it ends with y/n in the water and a laughing tony topside on the yacht.  their second meeting?  oh, thanks to a bump on the head and a case of amnesia, it’s all going to go according to plan ( she hopes ).  

notes: welcome to chap 1 of a new multi chap series, i’ve been rewatching the overboard movies & iron man 1 and taking notes so i have a very good idea of how the fics plot will go, but i don’t know how many chapters it’s going to be yet. know that i use the term “au” since it’s going based off of another film concept and it takes place before iron man one to begin.  there will be appearances of other iron man characters & film events, i don’t claim any of them.  all i claim is the take i have on the plot, and the side ocs ( the readers friends & children ).  

also this takes place circa 2008 since that’s when iron man 1 happened, and the reader is around tony’s age.  

oh, and because it felt weird to explain the readers kids ages and birth order in the fic i’m putting it here in the notes: joanna is the oldest and she’s 12 going on 13.  she’s followed by the twins dean and kate who are 9.  the youngest is 6 year old leo.  ( all the kids names are taken from characters in the overboard movies )

okay this was a long note, but i hope you enjoy !! let me know what you think, i’m excited for this one tbh ! 

warnings: mentions of death, cursing, drinking, falling overboard 

masterlist: here

marvel tag list: n/a ( if you want to be added to any tag list, let me know !! )

You were leading a group of people towards the yacht, clipboard in hand as you directed them on where to go.  The whole party had been a last minute frantic call to the company.  You believe you could overhear emergency and party and your best alcohol please from the phone before it was handed off to you to take.  

You were supposed to pick up the kids from school, and you were supposed to spend the night watching movies with them as you had promised.  But Lenora, who was the owner of the party planning agency ( who happened to also be your very best friend since elementary school ), told you to take the gig and go handle it yourself.  She was sure that this party would be a good payday for everyone. 

If you were being honest, you could use the money.  Even if you knew that you’d be going home later that night to a couple of upset faces, you needed the money more.  Even if it broke your heart to break theirs after everything you’d gone through.  So, you agreed after Lenora had told you she would pick up your kids and watch them for the night with her partner.  

You’d only been working for Lenora for a couple of months since you moved back to your hometown, but you’d been one of the few people to help her set up shop after you both had graduated college.  So even though you hadn’t been working at Let Lenora Handle It™️ for a short amount of time, you knew the business better than most of her long term employees and she trusted you with more responsibilities because of it.  

“No!  Grace, that table’s not supposed to come off the truck yet.  Not until we learn what the host needs for supplies.  It’s a yacht, I think they have a table.”  You shouted towards the group of workers beginning to haul things off of the company van.  You sighed and put your head to the clipboard as you walked over to them.  “Grace, I need you to go to the kitchens and see what they need from us for food and menus.  Joey, could you figure out what we should bring off of here other than the, uh,” you glanced back down at the checklist you’d scratched out when you were on the phone earlier, “masquerade decorations.”  You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.  

Who the hell threw an emergency masquerade party on a yacht?  

Actually, what even was an emergency masquerade party?  

The team members were getting out of the cars and you gestured toward the yacht and told them to go, following behind them as your phone buzzed in your pocket.  You sighed once you saw the face of your eldest, Joanna, flashing on your phone and knew you needed to take the call.  “I’ll just be a minute.”  you assured your workers as they nodded and went off to do their duties.  Taking in a breath you put the phone to your ear, “Hi sweetheart, did Lenora get you all settled in?”  

You could hear the commotion on the other end, bickering voices you knew well coming through the phone and one out of breath Lenora telling them to quiet down.  I hope it’s all okay, you thought.  

But it was worth it.  

“Joanna?”  you repeated when you didn’t hear an answer.  “Sweetie can you hear me?”  

“Mom.” All four of your children whine at the same time, which makes you laugh.  

“Not that we don’t love Aunt Lenora, but you promised us movie night.”  Joanna commented, and you could hear the sadness in her tone, even if it was masked with the annoyed voice you heard.  

“And ice cream!”  Leo cried out in the background, though he’s muffled by the sound of the twins arguing.  

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to work.”  You kept your voice level because, even if it hurt you to hear your kids upset, they needed to understand that your job was important and it was something you needed.  

Frankly, it was something you all needed.  You’d been working two ( sometimes three ) jobs after your husband died before you moved back to your hometown in costal Oregon.  Luckily Lenora’s company had been doing amazingly well, and she could afford to take you on as a “second in command”.  She’d said she could hire you, and you’d expected to be a regular employee but she’d given you your own office and told you that the whole place wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t helped her all those years ago.  You wanted to argue with her, tell her she could have done it on her own, but you appreciated the gesture.  Plus, it didn’t hurt that the money she was paying you was enough that you were able to work just there, though you did take the occasional shift at the bar downtown like you had back during college.  

“I know mom.” Joanna replied with a sigh.  “It’s just--”

You knew where she was going, even if she hadn’t trailed off.  It had been a while since you’d been able to spend a lot of quality family time together with all the hours you’d been working.  And that had proved difficult to explain to kids because even if they understood what you were saying, they still felt like they were losing time with you and they hated it.  

As the oldest, Joanna had taken on a lot more responsibility around the house after your husband died.  She helped you by making sure her siblings got their homework done while you’d worked longer hours, helped the babysitters you’d gotten ( because Joanna may have been the oldest, but she wasn’t old enough to be left alone with her siblings at the time ) understand what they needed to do, and had been by your side as you cooked dinner most nights to give you a helping hand.  

At the end of the day, Joanna was still twelve and still just really wanted her mom around.  

And you just really wanted to be there.  

“I know, I’ll make it up to you guys.  We’ll do a whole day just the five of us next weekend, how does that sound?” You were tapping your foot anxiously, not wanting to make a promise if you weren’t sure you could keep it, but you also didn’t want to upset the kids any more than you already had.  

Before you got a response, you heard someone whistle from the yacht, “Excuse me! Ma’am?  Hello!  Are you the party planner in charge?  Could I get a word?!”  You turned your head to look up at the man standing in his swim trunks on the deck, waving wildly in your direction as he gestured for you to come to him.  His other hand was around a flute of champagne, which he pressed to his lips and took a sip from as he waited.  When you didn’t budge, he called out again, “Yeah, honey, I’m not paying you to stand around and talk on your phone.  This is an emergency.  Let’s go.”   

“I’ve got to go.  Listen to Lenora, eat your veggies, and don’t stay up to late.  I love you guys and I’ll see you later tonight.”  You quickly hung up your phone and stuck it back in your pocket before quickly walking up the ramp to get onto the yacht’s deck.  

“Finally.”  the man raised his arms before dropping them dramatically to his sides, a bit of champagne dropping out of the flute to one side.  “Took you long enough.”  

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the way he’d been speaking to you before holding out your hand and introducing yourself, “Sorry, sir.  My name is Y/N Y/L/N.  Is there something you needed?”

He eyed your hand for a long and awkward moment before you dropped it down to your side and then he looked back at you, “Yeah.  I said masquerade, not whatever that is.”  He vaguely gestured toward the company’s van where the other workers were pulling out the decorations and getting them organized.  

“Believe me, when it’s all set up it’ll look different than it does in the box.  I promise.”  you nodded your head confidently.  You’d always been happy with the end decorating outcome, and knew that it always seemed like there wasn’t enough to completely transform a place, but everyone was always surprised and happy with how things turned out.  

“I’m trusting you with this.”  The dark haired man took another sip from his champagne as he studied you with his eyes.  You knew there was a silent don’t fuck this up hidden in his words and his gaze, so you nodded.  “If you need help, just ask for JARVIS.”  Then he was off, brushing past you and calling out that he was going to go relax.  

“Who’s, uh, JARVIS?”  you called back, your voice dying down as you noticed he was already gone and out of earshot before you had finished what you were saying.  

“That would be me, ma’am.”  spoke an artificial voice which caused you to jump slightly.  

“Excuse me?”  you questioned, turning around to see a small panel on the side of the yacht light up.  

“I’m Mr. Stark’s AI.  If you need anything I can be of assistance.”  

You nodded numbly in the direction of the panel, humming.  As you walked off to help the rest of the staff begin decorating the deck, you mumbled to yourself.  

“This is the weirdest job I’ve had in a long time.” 

It was proving to be a long process, getting everything ready because there was a lot of ground on the yacht.  You’d been managing getting everyone to put things in the right order when you wandered off course.  But you had left the main deck area to enter into the actual rooms on the boat itself, wanting to see if there was anything that you’d need to do for the inside, except that meant finding your employer, and the yacht was much bigger and more confusing to navigate than it looked when you first arrived.  

Finally you found him, but it was at the same time as an older bald man did.  He beat you there, leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway and looking in from your corner.  The man strode into the room, slamming the door completely open as he dropped something that sounded like a stack of papers onto the table--you couldn’t see what it was from where you were standing. 

“Tony!” The bald man exclaimed, attempting to get the dark haired man’s attention.  “Tony!” he repeated and only got a spared glance from the man.  Finally he grabbed the remote and turned the television off.  

This caused Tony to turn to look at him, pushing his sunglasses down his nose as he looked miffed by the interruption.  “Can I help you Obi?”  

“You can explain why we’re throwing a party in the middle of nowhere Oregon when we should be heading back down to Malibu for a shareholders meeting!”  Even if you couldn’t see the man’s face, you could tell from his posture and his tone that he was pissed off.  To you it felt like he’d given the man in question a similar speech multiple times before and this was only the latest in a long line of such scoldings.  

“Relax, Obi, that’s not for another two weeks.”  Tony shrugged him off, taking the remote back from the man’s hands and turning the station back on.  

Obi once again grabbed the remote before flinging it to the other side of the room, “It’s in three days!”  

Tony sat up in his seat, shaking his head.  “No, I specifically remember it not being the first week of the month.”  

“Tony, it’s the middle of the month.”  

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” 

“Really?” 

“Cut the crap.  The board is sick of you pulling all these weeks away and long benders of time off the grid.”  Obi took a seat on the couch across from Tony and continued speaking, running a hand across his head.  “They’re saying you’re not taking being CEO seriously.  You’re thirty-eight, Tony, and every night the tabloids are talking like you’re still in your twenties.  You need to grow up.  Or the board might do something about this.”  

“Hard to have the company without the guy who’s name is on all the papers there.”  Tony took his sunglasses off and put them down on the table, sitting up straight as he looked right at Obadiah.  “First of all, I still have the majority of the stock.”  he paused, you muttered the word arrogant under your breath just low enough as if you’d breathed, and held his hand up ( which only made you assume the other man had motioned to interrupt ), “Second, who cares what or who I do if I get the job done at the end of the day?  Aren’t the results worth it, or are they mad about the product we’re putting out too?”  

“It’s not the product they’re worried about, Tony.  It’s the fact that you’re the face of the company.”  

The man was still speaking, but you’d figured you should back out and try attempting to find Tony later to discuss the details you were missing.  You’d already overheard more than you should have of a conversation you had no right hearing.  Even if you did agree the other man was acting childish for supposedly running a multi billion dollar company.  

Sighing, you made your way back onto the deck and looked around.  “Excuse me, JARVIS?” you called out tentatively, shocked when one of the windows of the yacht turned into a computer screen and flashed.  It was quite advanced technology, and you didn’t know if you could get used to something like that.  

Then again, you were only here a couple of hours at most, yeah?  

“How may I be of assistance ma’am?”  the accented artificial voice answered back.  

“For the party he’s throwing, did he say if he wanted the entire top of the ship, including this room, or just the main deck decorated?”  You awkwardly shuffled on your feet, not sure where you should be directing the question to.  

“I believe Mr. Stark is planning for the party to be out on the deck, but I could send him your way if you’d like.”  

“If he’s not busy that would be helpful.  Thank you, JARVIS.”  

You didn’t get a response from the AI and instead moved back out onto the main deck of the boat.  The rest of the workers had already finished getting the big objects moved about and you thanked them and sent them on their way off the boat to head back to the offices, you were sure that you were mostly done there with the decorating.  Whatever was left, you could handle yourself.  You took the box of golden string lights, stepped up onto the ladder, and began weaving them around some of the decorations when you heard footsteps coming up behind you.  

“JARVIS said you needed me for something.”  His voice didn’t surprise you since you’d heard him coming, but the tone was much more pleasant than what you’d dealt with yourself and overheard earlier.  

You turned to look at him from where you stood on the ladder and nodded kindly, “Yes.  Did you need the rest of the boat decorated as well, for example the main room, or is just the top deck fine?”  

“I’m paying you to figure out the questions like this, aren’t I?”  Tony mused, rolling his eyes and brushing past you, knocking his arm into the ladder you stood on, on his way to the outside bar and getting himself a glass of whiskey with ice poured.  

You got knocked down to the ground loudly from the jolt he’d caused and turned to look at him from where you sat on the floor.  One thing you noticed was a small scar, looking like he’d injured himself somehow on the back of his leg where the swim trunks he was wearing stopped--it looked oddly like the shape of a crescent moon.    

“Not that I don’t mind a pretty face staring at me, but can I help you with something?”  

You turned your attention up, but he was still facing away from you.  He was, however, looking directly at you in the mirror hanging just above the bar.  Biting your lip and brushing the fallen hair out of your eyes you stood up and walked toward him.  You’d had it.  “Actually there is.  Why are you a child?”  You spoke out of turn, you knew your anger was boiling over and it was awful to react like this on a job--but this man was pushing your buttons.  You shook your head, shaking your hand before correcting yourself, “Actually, that’s an insult to children.  I have children, they behave better than you.  So what exactly is your damage, sir?”  

Tony turned toward you and looked at you as he took a long sip of his drink.  He was quite surprised with the level of frustration he’d gotten out of you, the amused smirk on his lips telling you what he thought of your little outburst.  It only made you angrier.  

“That’s a long list, honey.  Do you have the time or do you want the short and sweet version?”  He put the glass down on the bar and looked at you.  

“Are you serious?!  You just knocked me off of a ladder, and you don’t even turn back just pour yourself another drink?  Don’t you have any sense of empathy, or do you just run around on that high horse that no one can touch.  Oh, look at all those people down there.  Poor them.  I should do something.  Oh, you know what?  I’ll throw an emergency party!  What the fuck even is an emergency party?”  

You didn’t care that your voice was raised or that you were making a ( likely ) fool of yourself if anyone overheard the conversation.  Thankfully no one was around on the deck so you were safe.  Or, you thought you were--the truth was the boat’s security footage had audio as well and the staff monitoring the security feeds?  They were having a ball listening to you tell off their boss.  It was something they wouldn’t dare do.  

“An emergency party is a party because I want one.”  

“Oh, cause that makes it better.”  

“I hired your little company because I wanted a good theme and a nice time, not some woman with an attitude telling me my place!”  Tony waved his hand dismissively in your direction as he looked around the deck.  If he had taken a moment, he’d have cared that the place actually looked halfway decent.  “I want you off my ship.  Now.”  

“Fine,” you resolved, crossing your arms against your chest and staring at him still, “pay me for the decorations and our time and I’ll be on my way.”  

“No.  I’m not satisfied with the work, I absolutely will not pay for this half assed job.”  

“Half assed?  Half assed?!  Oh, you wouldn’t know real work if it bit your ass!”  You put your hands down on the bar and looked at him, scoffing as you shook your head.  “I will be on my way, once you hand over the check for the work I did.”  

“Fine.”  

“Fine.” 

Tony turned around and moved across the deck, you watched him as he moved and turned to follow him when he took the half finished decorations box and tossed it off the ship.  

“Are you kidding me right now?  You can’t throw my things off the boat!”  You charged forward, leaning off the edge of the boat and watching as they ebbed in the gentle water.  At least they weren’t going far, but that was still a good amount of decorations.  “That’s unacceptable.  I did the work, we did the work.  You owe us.”  

Tony made a face like he couldn’t hear you as he called for the captain to begin moving the boat out onto the sea before he would get passengers for the party later on.  The boat started moving away and you shrieked, turning to look at him.  Before you could say anything he knocked into you again and you tumbled off the edge of the boat.  

“Real mature!” you screamed, once you’d bobbed back to the surface, as the boat moved farther away from you.  

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.”  Tony cupped his ear, taking another sip of his drink and he even waved you off as the boat moved father away.  

You’d managed to gather up the box Tony had thrown overboard and you hauled yourself back to your feet.  Your phone was shot from being in the water, so you tossed that and the box into your car and drove off towards Lenora’s.  You turned on the radio to the station you’d been listening to and blast it, damn whatever anyone else thinks as you drive by with the windows down.  

Pulling into your friend’s driveway, you were greeted with the door opening before you had a chance to even turn the car’s engine off and the faces of your kids running towards you with excited grins.  

“Hey guys.”  You grinned as they charged for you, all four of them reaching to hug you at the same time.  You couldn’t quite make out everything they were telling you but most of it seemed to be we get a movie night now because you were in fact home much earlier than you expected to be.  

“Why are you soaked, mom?”  Dean asked, raising his eyebrows as he pulled away from you quickly, shaking off his face as if he himself was now soaked from coming into contact with you.  

“Oh, it’s no big deal.”  you shrugged your shoulders, making eye contact with Lenora as you said so ( she didn’t by that it wasn’t a big deal ) and just shook your head slightly.  You’d tell her in a minute, but you didn’t want to tell the kids.  “Hey, now that I’m here why don’t you guys go inside and check out Lenora’s movies and find something for us to watch.”  

They nodded and ran back towards the house, leaving you outside with your friend.  The pair of you watched in silence until the door closed behind the kids and you met in the middle of her lawn.  

“Y/N what happened?”  she asked, blinking as she took in your soaked attire.  

“Let’s just say we’re not getting paid, the guys a jerk, my phone’s dead, and I need to borrow some clothes.”  You hummed, your lips forming a straight line as you practically frowned with the residual anger that was still storming through your body.  You let out a breath, puffing your cheeks as you did and Lenora pulled you in for a hug.  

“Let’s get you changed and see if we can’t fix your phone problems.”  she tugged your arm and led you back to the house, both of you brushing past the kids who were raiding the DVD collection that Lenora had amassed over the years.  Once you were in her room, she pulled out some clothes for you to change into.  “You okay?”  

You took the clothes into your hand and moved to her bathroom in order to change, speaking to her as you moved, “Me? I’m fine, Len.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m just mad that asshole wouldn’t pay me.  We did the job for him.  He was like a petulant arrogant... jerk.”  You came back out of the bathroom, running your fingers through your wet hair before pulling it up into a bun.  “Like, he really just... I overheard him talking with someone who he works with or who he employs or whatever and he was like ‘Well they can’t run anything without me, my names all over it’ blah blah.”  You trailed off, shaking your head as you fumed with anger and annoyance.  

Lenora nodded her head as she followed your train of thought.  “Okay, let’s get you a glass of wine and the pizza should be here.  We’re going to have an old fashioned sleepover night.  The seven of us, some pizza, movies, and really bad charades.”  She chuckled, taking your hands from your side and waving your intertwined hands between the two of you.  “Look at me.  Hey.”  you turned your attention back toward your friend and she grinned at you.  “It’s gonna be okay.  We’ll make up the payday with another job.  Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”  

“You’re really the best friend I could have ever asked for, you know?” 

“Yeah, well, you’re mine too.”  

You two made your way back into the living room where the kids were piled on the floor, holding DVDs in their hands and arguing over which one should be first.  It was a fight between National Treasure, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Holes, and Spy Kids.  You and Lenora looked between the two of you as you walked to her kitchen and got everything ready for dinner.  

By the time pizza came, the kids had agreed on Spy Kids first and you all settled in on the couch.  Leo curled up onto your lap as best he could and the twins sat on either side of you while Joanna took control of the single chair next to the couch instead.  

And you eventually let yourself relax and have a good night, focusing on the movies and the company and letting the pain of the previous encounter go.  

Tony Stark was having a good night.  He didn’t let anything phase him as he went about the party he threw happily mingling and drinking.  He’d had a couple of people who managed to come, a small affair, but it was well done.  He would admit that later, if he could remember it.  He was definitely extremely drunk as he made his way through the party goers.  

There weren’t many people there--it was a couple of pretty women who he had seen and just invited, along with Obadiah ( who was soon going to “call it a night” and go off to his room on the boat ), Happy ( who was working with the captain of the ship and wasn’t actually attending the party, but he could watch from the security feeds), and Rhodey ( who Tony had convinced to fly over to Oregon for the “emergency” that turned out to be just another excuse for the man to get drunk ).  

But a party was a party, and Tony Stark was definitely the center of gravity at this one.  The night was young and Tony was really feeling the groove with the masks he’d gotten from...somewhere. 

Where had the masks come from?

Where did he get all the decorations from?

Your face flashed through his mind but he couldn’t remember your name.  He did remember being angry with you and there being a fight, though.  

He shrugged it off and went about the rest of his night, eventually taking one of the women to his room.  He’d even called back to Rhodey, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” as he stumbled down the boat to where his suite was, arm dangled around the shoulders of a blonde.  

A couple of hours passed and Tony woke up tangled in the sheets, naked.  He got up and shook his head, running a hand over his face as he turned to the woman sleeping peacefully on the bed.  He wasn’t going to get back to sleep, and unfortunately his yacht didn’t have a lab for him to escape to work on, so he decided to improvise.  

Tony got up, pulling on a pair of boxers and sweatpants and then he headed back topside.  He was less drunk than he had been earlier, but still felt the buzz of alcohol coursing thought him.  “JARVIS is anyone else awake?”  he asked when he got to the main level of the yacht, making his way through the party mess and going outside onto the deck.  He stood outside and looked around, it was still late ( or too early for the sun to be up, at least ).  

“All other guests have retired to their rooms, sir.”  

Tony nodded his head and went around to the bar, pouring himself another drink and gulping it down as he looked out onto the ocean in front of them.  They were moving slowly as the night ran on ahead, and he moved to the side to look out onto the current.  He tended to do this whenever he was on the yacht, despite several comments from JARVIS that he really should stay away from the edge of the boat.  

Tony always shrugged off the comments from the AI because he could definitely catch himself if he were ever going overboard.  

He wasn’t going to be caught at sea.  No sir, not Tony Stark.  

Unfortunately for him, the AI had been right.  Standing at the edge of the boat was asking for trouble.  

A rough bump in the otherwise calm ocean below had caused him to drop the crystal glass down onto the floor, crashing onto his leg as it went down.  He made a face at the action and moved to grab something to fix his injury ( he’d had worse when he was working on his cars or some of the inventions, a small cut on his leg from broken glass was nothing ) when he slipped on the spilled alcohol.  The force knocked him backwards causing his back to hit the ledge and he went overboard with a shout of “help” and flailing arms.  

A couple of days later, you and the kids were back at Lenora’s for the weekend.  Sometimes she would stay with you if her partner was out of town, but her place was just bigger and more comfortable for all of you to spend time in, so you’d elected to stay with her and do weekend activities with the kids there that weekend.  

It was a good thing to have this in your routine, since it had originally started when you first moved home and it was like a constant wave of nausea from the nostalgia you were feeling.  This was where you’d met your husband, he’d been your high school sweetheart, and it was so hard to move home.  But it was also best for everyone, you hadn’t been able to afford your old house in your old neighborhood.  And here you had your husband’s family house, it wasn’t anything big but it was a place that you knew well and it could fit you and the kids.  

Coming to Lenora’s had been a way to stabilize yourself, you’d needed to be around someone in the mornings when the feelings would hit you hardest, and now it had just become a new tradition.  You think the kids happened to like coming to Lenora’s often because they liked her pets: a dog named Champ and a cat named Tabitha.

You went into the kitchen to begin making breakfast for the kids and your friend.  It was a quiet morning, the sun having just risen, and you turned the radio on in the kitchen quietly.  You didn’t want to wake anyone up just yet, but knew they would all be up soon with the food once it got cooking.  

You figured pancakes was the way to go for everyone, a couple with berries in the mix, a couple with chocolate chips, and a couple plain.  Lenora would appreciate not having to make breakfast, and your kids always loved pancake breakfasts.  

A wave hit as you mixed pancake batter, like a mist of sorrow just brushing over you as you remembered making pancakes with your husband and the kids.  Your heart plummeted for a moment as you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath.  

No, you were okay.  

You let out the air you’d breathed in and nodded to yourself, going back to the fridge to get the berries you would need and the cabinet to get the chips.  You busied yourself with the pancakes and singing along to the music playing on the radio that you got lost in the moment, not hearing when everyone else was waking up around you and coming into the kitchen.  

“Do I smell pancakes?” Lenora called out as she followed the brood of kids into the kitchen.  You’d spent many nights at Lenora’s over the years, so the kids always felt like it was a second home.  Joanna immediately went to grab the plates from the cabinet as Dean and Kate were grabbing juice from the fridge.  

Leo snuck up behind you and pressed his head against your leg as he yawned out a soft good morning into your pants.  You ruffled his hair and bent down to press a kiss to the top of his head as you grinned at him and said, “Morning sweet pea.  How did you sleep?”    

“M’kay.”  Leo shrugged his shoulders as he rubbed his eyes before following his siblings to the kitchen table and taking a seat.  

You were about to greet Lenora when the radio station suddenly paused the music, cutting off the sounds of Prince filling the morning air, and a newscaster was speaking.  

“Sorry to interrupt your music, folks.  It’s an unusual morning in Elk Cove, as the man found down by the beach story is getting even weirder.”  

You turned your head up at that.  “The what?”

“Oh, yeah! They found a man out at sea yesterday morning.  Apparently he was pretty beat up, must’ve hit his head or something.” Dean commented from the table, nodding his head.  

Lenora took out her phone and must have either been responding to a message or checking out the story the kids were saying.  You went back to paying attention to the stove to know when to flip the pancakes, but you did lean over to turn up the news cast.  

“Looks like he’s still a John Doe.  Doctors have confirmed that he’s got a concussion and a couple of cuts along his legs from the fall into the water, but is otherwise healthy.  He does however seem to be suffering from a case of amnesia, and cannot remember who he is or what he does.  Unfortunately, there was nothing identifying him when the fishermen found him yesterday.”  Your attention was pulled away when Lenora tapped your arm, holding out her phone for you to look at.  

You gasped, “Lenora it’s him!” Sure, the face in the photograph was a bit beat up and bruised, but that was unmistakably the man who you’d dealt with the other day.  

“Yesterday the police were approached by someone who was believed to know the man, a yacht had been in the area for a night out, but unfortunately the man could not identify him.  The police are looking for any information they can on this man, having reached out to the state police to see if they can help.  If you recognize the man, please do contact the police or the hospital.”  

You shook your head, “I bet it was that man he was arguing with.  Just leaving him unidentified in the hospital!  I know he wasn’t that great of a guy, kind of full of himself, but to leave him there alone and not knowing who he is?”  You made a face, shaking your head at the thought.  Even if you didn’t think the man was particularly great, you couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling being all alone and having no clue about what was going on with him or who he was.  

Lenora turned down the radio and looked over your shoulder at the article once more.  She put her hand on your shoulders, spinning you around to face her with an excited expression.  

“Len?” 

“This is fate!  We can go to the hospital and get Mr. Rich Jerkface to give us the money he owes us!”  she exclaimed, nodding her head with a grin on her face.  

You raised your eyebrows at her, “Major problem.  If he doesn’t remember who he is, I don’t think he’s going to remember who I am and the fact that he owes us money.”  You shrugged your shoulders, sighing.  “There’s nothing we can do.”  

Lenora took her phone back and began typing on the keyboard, shaking her head.  “No, fate is giving us this.  And we’d be crazy not to take it.  We’re getting our money, Y/N.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“Hear me out.”  Lenora started before pulling back and looking at the kids who were all listening in on the conversation.  Lenora decided she might as well tell everyone her plan, since it involved them all, and she looked at you when she spoke.  “He owes you money and he’s got amnesia.  His business partner or whatever left him there and won’t be there for him.  Why don’t we go and get him?”  

“And what are we going to say?  Hey the John Doe from the news owes me money and I’d like to take him home to collect?  Be serious, Lenora.” 

Lenora shook her head, pointing at you.  “Even better.  We pretend he’s your husband.  It’s perfect.  I’ve got a friend who can make everything we need, documents and pictures.  He won’t even know.  And you can make him do the housework for a couple of weeks and we’re even.  He literally threw you off a boat Y/N.”  

You bit your lip, turning back to flip the pancakes you’d had on the stove and thought about it for a moment.  It was a crazy plan, and there was a chance it wouldn’t even work out.  You could be caught immediately.  

But, he was alone there.  And you wouldn’t want to be alone like that.  

And he did owe you for the work you’d done.  

“Fine, make the call.  But we’re going to need a couple more things than just papers and pictures.”  You agreed, sighing as you shook your head.  Of course you’d gotten yourself into this mess.  

“We need clothes!”

You were shocked when Kate spoke up from the kitchen table and you turned to look at the kids with wide eyes.  

“What?” you asked, blinking at them.  

“Well, he needs to buy that he’s our dad, right?  It’s kind of obvious we need to go and get clothes and stuff too, mom.”  Kate shrugged her shoulders, nodding her head at you.  

“Katie’s right!  I’ll get my friend working on the documents and pictures we might need and then we’ll take a trip to go and get some clothes.  Then you go down to the hospital and the kids and I will go back to your house and set it all up.”  Lenora nodded her head, dialing on her phone and leaving the room as she spoke to whoever it was in a hushed tone.  

You watched, silently amazed as she spoke to her friend.  

“Mom, the pancakes are burning!” 

That brought you back into the moment and you flipped the pancakes off of the burner before putting a couple of new ones back down on the pan.  

“Are you guys going to be alright?  You’re going to have to call him dad and everything.”  

The kids nodded at you.  “Yeah, we’re okay.  We’ll help.  How bad could the guy be anyway?”  Joanna asked.  

“Oh, you have no idea.”  You shook your head.  

Once you finished the pancakes, Lenora handed you a makeshift script she’d written and told you to call the hospital.  You rolled your eyes, but you made your way back to her room for some privacy and dialed the hospital.  

“Hello, I’m calling about the John Doe I saw on the news?  It’s my husband, Tony Y/L/N.  He was out swimming the other night and I didn’t hear from him and the kids and I we’ve been so worried.”  You managed to make yourself sound choked up at the thought of it all, even feeling your eyes got hot with the prickling of tears.  “Is he--is he alright?”