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streetlight11 · 3 years ago

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Dystopia pt 8 (FINALE)

Summary: You were an Amity born. You were taught to value kindness and harmony. But you also valued bravery and knowledge. After the test to see which faction best suited you, you were given the choice to either stay in your faction or leave. When you chose to leave your faction for another, your whole life changed and you wondered if it was the right decision. You pondered over it at first, all until you met him.

Theme: Divergent au, strangers to lovers

Genre: mild action [I tried], angst, fluff, slowburn

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

WC: 3.6k

Pairing: Trainer!Jungkook x Initiate!FemReader

Tips: In this whole series, Y/N is a few years younger than JK. Those who were initiates like Y/N that just ended the Choosing Ceremony, are all the same age. None of these characters portray who the mentioned people are in real life whatsoever! It's just a fictional character!

a/n: Hello! Guess what? You made it to the end! I know this is a short series but I'm more than thankful if you have made it this far. Although it's quite short for a finale, I hope I didn't disappoint you too much! But anyways, here's the final part for this series :) Enjoyyy

~~~

With hurried steps, all three of them quickly hollered their way through the facility in hopes that they would reach the dorms in time. Jungkook’s heart was beating so fast against his chest, unsure if he could even calm himself down knowing something bad had happened to you. That was the last thing he wanted. From the day he saw you a few weeks back, he knew he would like you.

He knew there was something about you that leaves him being all clammy and nervous despite his amazing skill at hiding his emotions. Jungkook never knew he would manage to get close to you, thinking it was impossible considering he was a trainer and you were an initiate.

However, it looks like fate has a different plan for you and him when he saw you training by yourself in the middle of the night. That was when he first got to have a close interaction with you.

Even though it was just him teaching you basic tips on how to improve your skills for each of the different skill sets, he still got to talk to you and also earn your trust after a while. And as the days gradually went by, it was needless to say that Jungkook had grown so fond of you and even had a crush on you.

Yes, a Dauntless Trainer having a crush on a Dauntless Initiate.

How cute.

Ultimately, it all goes downhill for him as he finally arrives at the shared dormitory, only to find the rest of the initiates crowding around at one spot. The minute Jungkook and Changkyun pushed through the crowd, their hearts stopped for a millisecond upon seeing what the fuss was about.

There you were, cradled in Hyunjae’s arms as Gahyeon was crying with her hands desperately pressing what looks to be a completely blood soaked towel against your throat.

Your throat has been slit, not too deep to kill you but just enough to render you voiceless.

You were just turning around on your bed when you peeked your eyes open out of instinct, feeling as though you were being watched. Except, you weren’t expecting for it to be legit. Because the minute you opened your eyes, there was a hooded figure looming over you with a hand raised to their head level with what looks to be a knife from the Training Room.

Fuck!

Before your mind could react, your body seemed to move faster as your arms swiveled to a cross position over your face right when the person launched his attack to your head.

With the tip of its blade just barely missing your right eye socket.

You used all your energy to shove their hand away using your arms, only to kick their stomach harshly. They stumbled back a little before lunging back at you. However, you quickly rolled out of bed to your left, falling to the ground with a soft thud just as they plunged the blade into the mattress right where your chest would’ve been.

You rushed to your feet, making a break for it to the open toilet but your steps faltered when you felt a sharp stab to your calf.

“Ah! Fuck!” You loudly hissed to yourself.

The blade got pulled out of your leg harshly, only for you to flip around on the ground.

The person kneeled over you as they tried to stab you in the face again but you managed to grab their wrist with both hands. They were strong. A little too strong if you say so yourself. However, for some reason, you felt like you knew this person.

You were struggling. You were struggling hard to push their hand away. Mustering whatever strength you had left, you used all your power to push them back.

For a moment, you were glad that they nearly fell off you.

However, you weren’t mentally and physically ready for what he was about to do next. And that was for him to make one swift swing of his arm. It all happened so fast, you didn’t even realize what he did until you felt something wet trickle down your neck. You tried to curse at them but instead you were shocked when nothing came out of your mouth.

That wasn’t until one of your hands reached up for your throat and you felt it.

The open slit, the feeling of wet liquid, your nostrils filling with the strong smell of copper, and finally, bringing your fingers up to see your fingers coated in your own red crimson blood.

Your mouth hung agape as you tried to speak but there was nothing. Tears welled up in your eyes as the person got up and smirked down at you.

“Goodnight loser. I hope you rot in hell.”

They soon took off running, leaving you there helpless with no voice to scream for help, to tell people who did it. But of course, you weren’t stupid. Despite the lack of light, only an idiot couldn’t catch on easily. For there is only one person who calls you ‘Loser’ right from the start. Your doubts were confirmed the minute that nickname left their lips.

Dumb move Yeonjun.

Since you couldn’t scream for help, you slowly began to drag yourself across the room, leaving a long trail of blood behind your leg where you got stabbed only to reach the end of Gahyeon’s bed.

With one swift grasp, you managed to hold onto her shirt and that was enough to wake her.

It took her a second to realize what happened until she saw the trail of blood on the floor and your bleeding throat that you were desperately putting pressure on. She let out a shrilling scream before yelling for help from the others. Everyone began to panic at the gruesome scene, making Hyunjae cradle you while Yunho rushed out to get help.

Jungkook carried you to the hospital wing, with Gahyeon, Hyunjae, Yunho and Changkyun tagging along. One of the nurses inspected your injury, seeing that you’ve lost quite a bit of blood. She mentioned that they had to give you some blood in order to save you and they have to be the same blood type as yours. After much inspection, it was clear that only Jungkook and Hyunjae shared the same blood type as you.

Both of them offered to donate some of their blood to you to save your life. While the two were being drawn of their blood, Changkyun went ahead and brought the other two back to their dormitory to rest. You were already laying there on the medical bed unconscious which means you couldn’t feel the way Gahyeon gently gave your blood coated hands a small squeeze.

“Please be okay, Y/N.” She whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. Yunho comforted the girl before they both left with Changkyun.

A few minutes later, the nurse managed to collect as much blood as you probably needed after losing them quite a bit. She placed a bandaid over the spots where she injected the tube in their arms. After she was done, she dismissed the two boys but Jungkook asked if he could stay.

She nodded, setting up the equipment so that the blood she collected from the two gentlemen could be transferred into your body through the IV in your hand.

Hyunjae left after caressing the top of your head, wishing you a speedy recovery.

The nurse went ahead and disinfected your wounds before suturing the open cuts and wrapping them with bandages. Once she was done, she excused herself, leaving you alone with Jungkook as the male went over to scoot his chair closer to your side. Jungkook carefully reaches for your hand that didn’t have the needle attached. He brings it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry this happened to you Y/N. You truly don’t deserve this…” Jungkook whispered as he stood up to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

He felt sorry. He felt sick. He felt confused. But more importantly, he felt furious at whoever did this to you. Of course he didn’t know who but you knew.

You woke up to a sharp pain in your throat, feeling it get itchy like an unusual sore throat. The prickling pain in your right calf made your leg jolt as you shot your tired eyes open. The morning sun filled the room. You carefully looked around to find you alone in the room which looks to be the hospital wing.

Memories from last night suddenly came flashing into your mind like a tsunami, and yet, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around it.

Did that really happen?

Was it all a dream?

You almost didn’t want to believe it until your hands reached up to your throat and you felt the soft material of the bandage taped onto your neck. Of course, your stubbornness was trying to make you think otherwise so you opened your mouth to speak.

Truth be told, nothing comes out of your mouth. Absolutely nothing. Not even a sound.

Your thoughts were swirling, a million things running across your head at that very moment. From the incident last night to the final evaluation test you were supposed to have today. The test was supposed to determine your final results of your initiation. It was supposed to determine whether you get to stay in Dauntless or you get kicked out and become Factionless.

Of course, there are two ways of getting that second option. First is by failing Stage 3, and second is of course by not attending the final test at all.

How wonderful.

As your mind was swirling with these complications, you completely missed the figure that was making their way to you. It wasn’t until they were a few feet from you that you looked up only to lock eyes with Jungkook.

Immediately, a whole swarm of emotions came rushing through you as you began to cry. Jungkook rushed over to you, only to hush you.

“Shh… Shh… Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re fine. I’m here.” Jungkook cooed as he held you in his arms, feeling the way your arms wrapped around his waist tightly like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go. His heart swelled upon feeling his shirt get soaked from your tears.

Your silent cries only made his heart drop even more. Jungkook caressed the back of your head lovingly, making sure to give you small reassuring kisses to the side of your head as a way to hopefully calm you down.

You both stayed like that for a bit before he sang you a sweet song in your ear.

Jungkook felt your body relax in his touch, happy that his singing made you calmer. After a while, he pulled away slowly to look you in the eye. How is it possible that you are just sitting there crying your eyes out and yet you still looked beautiful? Or maybe it’s just him.

Who knows.

Nevertheless, he wipes your tears with his thumbs and soon smiles down at you.

“You’re so strong. You’re a strong girl Y/N. And I really admire you for that.” He whispered. You couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile when you felt him boop your nose with his own. You had so much to say to him. So much you wanted to share with him. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on your side today. Just then, Jungkook’s smile faltered and it made you curious.

You reached for his wrist where his hand was just cupping your face softly, to catch his attention. You silently asked him what’s wrong through your worried eyes, hoping he could read your mind.

Thankfully, he did.

“The final stage… It starts in 5 minutes. I talked to the leaders about your current condition. I tried my best to change their mind, Changkyun did try too… Unfortunately, the leaders made an agreement to… disqualify you, which means… y-you…” Jungkook paused as he struggled to convey the message to you but you already knew what it meant.

You violently shook your head at him. You had to redeem yourself. You didn’t plan for this to happen. You were forced to be in this damn medical bed out of your own will. Oh if only they saw who did this to you, would they gladly throw him to the Factionless.

“Decision has been made. Since you can’t physically be there, you’re immediately disqualified.” Jungkook said as you shook your head again. There must be something about the way you were staring at him because at that very moment, it was as though you sent him a message through telepathy.

“Wait a minute… For the final test, you don’t need to talk. You… just need to be physically there for the simulation.” Jungkook said in realization as your eyes lit up.

“Does that mean… she’s immediately disqualified?” Gahyeon asked sadly, only for Hyunjae to nod.

“I mean, technically according to the rules, you are supposed to be here physically for the final test… So, I guess that’s true then…” Hyunjae said.

The rest of them who were gathered by the side of the hall where the final stage would take place, shared mostly the same emotions about you not being able to join them which would render you as Factionless by default even after all your hard work.

However, it looks like someone couldn’t care less about you not making it.

“Who cares? She doesn't belong in Dauntless anyway.” Yeonjun rolls his eyes as he walks to the front, leaning against one of the pillars. Your friends exchanged a few glances to one another, not feeling good about the way he said that. A few minutes passed, and they had just finished the test with the third person on the list. All the initiates were anxious as they waited for their turn. Soon enough, the Dauntless leader calls out the next name to be on stage.

“Y/F/N.”

With that, the room fell silent as the initiates looked at each other with deep frowns on their faces. A few beats of silences went by, not a single sign of you anywhere. Meanwhile, Yeonjun had that devilish smirk on his face as he felt satisfied with your lack of presence.

Unfortunately, just as the leader was about to call out the next person on the list, Jungkook’s voice echoed around the hall from the opposite end of where the initiates were gathered. That’s when Jungkook emerged through the double doors with you beside him.

He had one arm wrapped around your waist as you limped your way to the platform where the chair was waiting for you. Your friends cheered for your arrival as they shouted a string of goodlucks to you. Yeonjun growled, totally not expecting to find you still alive.

Maybe he didn’t cut you deep enough.

You immediately recognized the lady who was prepping the tools to put you into simulation, to be the same lady you met on your Initiation test.

After you sat down, Jungkook gave your waist a little squeeze before he smiled down at you and whispered, “Goodluck.”

He soon left your side as the lady asked you if you were ready. You gave her a small nod, letting her inject the needle into your neck right below your ear.

Once the serum had been injected into your system, it took effect right away, bringing you to your first simulation. It was the same simulations you went through during your Stage 2. They were all of your fears connecting one simulation to the other. You managed to remember what Jungkook taught you during the past few weeks and how to properly handle each situation like a fellow Dauntless.

The minute your last simulation ended, you woke up calmly only for the lady to smile.

“You did well.” She complimented you as she helped you sit up. Jungkook came to your side and very gently led you off the platform.

“Good job. Looks like my tips worked huh?” Jungkook asked, to which you smiled, feeling shy all of a sudden. He guided you to the side only for your friends to rush over to you.

“Sweetie! You’re okay! How are you?” Gahyeon asked as she hugged you, making you return her hug. You showed an ‘okay’ sign with your hand before Yunho ruffled your hair. “Of course you are, you’re a beast Y/N.” His comment made some of them laugh, including you. Just then, your eyes drifted to your left only to meet Yeonjun’s fiery eyes.

All you wanted to do was throw him in The Pit. The last thing you wanted was to see his competitive ass everyday from now on.

However, you weren’t going to kill him despite all the pain he’s caused you.

After letting you meet up with your friends, Jungkook brought you back to his penthouse to let you rest. He carefully laid you down on his bed, pulling his blanket up to your chest while you snuggled into his side with your head resting on his chest. Jungkook chuckled as he caressed your hair, tucking them behind your ear, making sure to let his fingers softly trace the side of your face as he did so.

“No matter what the results are, I’m never leaving your side. That, I can promise you.” Jungkook said softly as you tilted your head up to look at him. You wished you could speak. You wished you could verbally say this to him outloud. Unfortunately you couldn’t.

In the end, you opted for the saying ‘Actions speak louder than words’ and so, with that being said, you lifted your head up and used your left elbow to prop your body up on the mattress.

Jungkook watched you carefully as you slowly leaned in only to press your lips softly on his. Almost instantly, he wrapped one arm around your waist while the other allowed his fingers to tangle into your soft locks. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek, letting your thumb trace the scar he had on his left cheekbone. You felt him smile against your lips as he pulled away for a breath.

His eyes fluttered open to find your cute ones staring back at him. Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle as he gently massaged your scalp in a calming manner.

“If that is your way of telling me what I think it is, then I’ll be the one to confirm verbally that I feel the same way too…” Jungkook’s voice was smooth and sultry in your ears, it almost made you melt into a puddle. Almost.

So with one more kiss from him, your heart raced in your chest as he pulled away to let his lips hover over yours before he said the words you’ve been meaning to tell him.

“I love you Y/N.”

Prologue

6 months had passed, you ended up staying in Dauntless together with Gahyeon, Hyunjae and Yunho. Right after the final stage, you gave Jungkook the weapon Yeonjun used to attack you the night before the final stage. After investigating the weapon and finding evidence that confirms Yeonjun was indeed the attacker, he was immediately thrown out of Dauntless. Rendering him Factionless.

Yes, that jerk deserved it.

Yunho was given the role of a guard due to his unfortunate ranking but hey, at least he wasn’t Factionless.

Gahyeon was a trainer for Dauntless-born initiates while you and Hyunjae were trainers for faction transfers. Although, you only started becoming one after the 3rd month when you were starting to be able to talk again.

And how was your relationship with Jungkook, might I ask?

Well, just splendid.

Your relationship with him only grew stronger each day as he took care of you during the first few months when you still had difficulties to talk. He was always there for you when you needed someone to back you up in heated arguments.

Jungkook took you to visit your parents the day after the final stage. No doubt your parents got upset over what happened to their daughter, they were more than thankful that you were still alive and that Jungkook was there to keep you sane. As the months go by, Jungkook’s feelings for you bloomed.

Today was another day of training for you and your initiates where you managed to guide the new initiates along with Hyunjae’s help.

You were just standing off to the side, letting Hyunjae take over for the knife throwing session when you suddenly felt a pair of strong arms wrapping itself around your waist. You giggled as you turned your head to find Jungkook’s face just mere inches away from yours.

“Not here, love… We’re in the middle of training.” You whispered, earning a soft chuckle from him before he peppered your cheek with kisses.

“Can’t I just give my beautiful girlfriend some loving kisses before I go to my meeting?” Jungkook teased, making you giggle.

“Aren’t you being needy?” You laughed.

“Only when I miss you…”

“We literally saw each other an hour ago, Kook.”

“I know.” Jungkook grinned cutely at you only for you to push his face away gently while you laughed.

“Hmm, needy indeed.”

“Hey…” He pouted at you. Of course your heart couldn’t bear to see his sad pout so you turned to face him completely. Reaching up with both hands to hold his face, you pressed your lips on his before pulling away to see his silly smile on his face.

“I love you.” You whispered as you felt him hug you.

“I love you more.”

That was the last thing you heard as Changkyun’s voice beckons your boyfriend over from a few feet behind Jungkook. “Come on lovebird, we gotta go… See you later Y/N.” Changkyun chuckled as he wiggled his index finger towards Jungkook. Your boyfriend gives you one last kiss before he jogs over to his older friend.

Maybe joining Dauntless wasn’t as bad as you thought after all.

~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading this series! Do check out my other fics if you're interested to read more of my writings! ❤️

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Taglist: @moonchild1 @danyxthirstae01 @helenazbmrskai @jenna-posts @pimentelssmile

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 3 years ago

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BFCD Reviews by Nesha: Final Space, Season 3

Everybody that know me know that I’m high class #Quillective trash and my main thoughts and feelings go out to Quinn Ergon and Gary Goodspeed - precious Gemini gems, and of course the BABIES: Little Cato, Ash and Fox #NeshaLuhDaKids I had some attachment to Avocato once upon a time, but that n***a got on my LAST nerves this season, so we currently at “Do you, Boo” status by the end of S3, and eventually, yes, I’ma get to why that is.

Disclaimer for somebody who stumbled across this post because of the fandom tags - I am an independent partaker of this content, not “part of the fandom,” and my audience in particular is NOT for everybody. SO: If you may have been criticized in the past for casual racism, tone deafness to Black women’s concerns or accused of misogynoir or antiblackness, leave now.

If you don’t like cussing, AAVE, general ratchetness and mean lesbian energy, you too might wanna go. A bitch can be eloquent, but I type like I talk, at times, so it is what it is and I don’t curate for kids, dudes, or nonblacks. That’s just what that is.

I wanna start with Ash Graven. This season is about Ash more than anybody else, despite the fact that there was a lot of emphasis on Avocato’s toxic ass man pain and growth in Quinn and Gary’s relationship, ULTIMATELY, nobody in the crew did more coming into fruition as Ash did, and I have a lot to say about her, because I have a lot of feelings.

♡ Ash Graven

1. Ash is a kid. Lol. Everybody got very confused because of the unnecessary transformation that Invictus gave her. Ash did not “grow up,” her body was altered. That’s a fuckin kid in a woman’s body. A kid who has previously been living with survivor’s guilt, parental abuse/neglect/exploitation, chronic trauma, and a disastrous superpower that most people could not be trusted to carry. She’s a child having a coming of age moment in this season that is mostly molded in manipulation. If you hate on Ash, go fuck yourself. ESPECIALLY if I’ve caught you stanning other characters who have been shit characters, in this fandom or not. Ash was dealt a shit hand and nobody had her back but her brothers, and she’s done what she could and thought was best to care for them. Anybody that missed that - just don’t have kids, K.

2. Ash has no parental guidance. As far as she knows, the only adults who have ever had her back are dead and the ones that she’s stuck with now, she GAVE a chance to try to trust them. She gave Quinn a chance to try to see some of Nightfall (the only adult that we’ve seen not exploit her) in her. She gave Gary a chance by choosing him over Clarence, when she had to make a choice. She even gave Clarence’s ass another chance - with which he responded by dying to not fail her. Now, she has Gary, who just a few days or weeks ago, idek, forced her to try to summon her powers while she was both injured and also upset over having to leave her brother behind - TO SAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND! And she got snatched away in the process and left behind with the enemy, to be mentally assaulted and returned changed, only to have them not trust her.

I love Quinn too. I love her dearly. But the facts were that she was dying and having an episode that nobody could really help with, and Gary didn’t take the time or consideration to think about the stress that he was putting on Ash by putting her in the position to make her feel like she needed to save Quinn for him. Whether or not she was the only one who could, that is a lot to put on a child, and not only did he do it, but he didn’t even seem to think that hard about it whenever he then left her ass. Sure, he was glad when she was returned, but that was a fucked up situation that yet another adult put her into, and the first thing that he should have wanted to do when seeing her was to apologize and try to make it right. It was a huge miscalculation to treat her as a potential enemy that he and Avocato needed to vet. EVEN IF that’s what she was to them, both of them should have had the sense to assess while still treating her as the kid that they supposedly knew.

3. Most of her trauma has been recent and continuous. She looked up to Nightfall, watched her die, and had a meltdown. The events from Season 2 (with Clarence almost killing Fox and leaving him to die, her leaving his side to help out, seeing that Sheryl was treacherous to her own son, losing Nightfall), and the events that are taking place in Season 3 are only in the span of a few months.

They were only stranded for a month whenever we see them surviving together. That girl has had more happen to her to hurt her than to help her and nobody around her BUT Little Cato has been sensitive to that. And they are all fucking adults.

These things being noted - changing Ash’s design was the absolute worse fucking thing. Aging a girl up to make the bad things that follow more palatable is what that seems to be. Ash is still a kid. And THEN, they allegedly made her a queer kid. I say allegedly, because that “reveal” was so poorly done and subtle and weak that I, an almost 40 year old queer, didn’t realize that that’s what they meant whenever they said that they were gonna reveal somebody as a character who is part of the LGBT community.

So... FS production just gon’ decide not only to transform her body into that of a woman, when her mind is still full on traumatized child and hormonal teenager, but also, she likes girls, and they didn’t even do it in a cohesive way that added to the story. They threw it in, like, “BTW, she likes girls, and also, she’s full grown now.” then immediately went for the “Villain” lever, and bitches just ate that shit up. Fuck y’all, forreal.

& Fox

He didn’t deserve that shit. And, I know a lot of people felt that he was pointless and boring, but his ass was sweet and caring and searching for love and acceptance. As a background character, I liked him. But, he was literally just fodder for Ash’s downfall, which was unfair and problematic, considering that his ass is definitely Black coded. Don’t play. He was voiced by a Black man, spoke with a blaccent, and definitely would be read as Black if you wasn’t looking at him and seeing an alien. They gave him a sacrificial negro trope, the big friendly negro that can kill you but loves everybody trope, and they used his death to just push some narrative forward to set up the one verified queer character as a villain. They got they ass in a vehicle and rolled right over another Black character, and another queer character. Chile...

♡ Little Cato!!!

My precious have not been getting some good for too long, and I have had it. He’s not focused on so much this season as he is in the background of other people’s stories, but a very important takeaway is and will always be that Little Cato, aside from Fox, really was the only one here who consistently treated her like she mattered, so it made a lot of sense that he could be the catalyst for her finally having ENOUGH with these people.

I really wish that he could have found out the truth about his past from Avocato, because that’s really who OWED him that truth, but Ash did the thing that I’d expect and told him, to be honest with him. She even told him that Avocato wanted to tell him and that she took that right away from him, because she didn’t believe he deserved it, and I’m respecting her for that, too. I wish she could see how much it hurt Little Cato for her to try to take him away from his home.

Little Cato has lived before, for a while, and he’s not mature enough to behave as a man, but he at least has a loving foundation to draw from, and having had that support, this is more of his home than it is Ash’s. He doesn’t know how to explain that to her, and she doesn’t know how to understand that for him. Just a tragic situation for two kids with a lot of problems.

♡ Quinn Ergon & Gary Goodspeed

Quinnary notes that might not be featured in the BFCD Reviews by Nesha: (Quinn Ergon/Nightfall x Gary Goodspeed) rundown -

I've had two favorite parts of this season so far and they're very mediocre things that you wouldn't think would be like my favorite part but they are. One of them was that the first thing Gary does when she wakes up is to ask her about her sister (someone obviously very important to her who he's previously promised to allow to let live through Quinn's memory and says he wants to hear about her when he's trying to keep Quinn from dying). Because... He really did care and wasn't just saying something to keep her.

Quinn's mother fucked her up in a way that is so frustrating because Black mamas really will traumatize you about their younger kids. That shit hurt. You showed your daughter dead bodies to make her think about that in the event that your other daughter might be in battle? Bitch wtf

Whenever we say that Black girls are programmed to put everybody ahead of us, that's unfortunately not just including Society, it's in households too. And Quinn comes from this place where that is her reality... Then she meets Gary and he doesn't even register for her as anything special. He doesn't appear impressive or incredible in any way... But he (admittedly) weirdly locks on to her and shares himself - thinking that he's showing himself to her, and ultimately he DOES. And he wants to see her too, beyond all this, who she is, at her most humane. He wants to know about her sister. About someone who mattered to her enough to have the helm of her trauma when she was out of touch with reality. Very soft. Very sweet.

The other was when they were talking about how they met and stuff and Gary absolutely cringed thinking about how corny he was when he approached this woman. A lot of dudes never do that. The complaint of earlier seasons that Gary was overbearing, obsessive and creepy , if you missed the fact that he has terrible abandonment issues from his father’s death and his mother’s rejection, here we have him, in his adult state, looking back at the way he was and being embarrassed about it, and that’s growth!

A close third is whenever at the beginning of the Season he says "Quinn it's been a month eventually you have to open up to me about what you've been through" and she says "I will in time" and he respects it but he reiterates that he's there whenever she needs him. I don't think that people realize how revolutionary that kind of statement is especially for a character like Quinn to hear - who has always felt like she had to take charge, had to take the lead, had to make the sacrifice.

Even when she realized that she was dying, she didn't want to burden him with the information. Not even like ‘a thing that she knew if that could help prevent it and she didn't want him to have to go after it,’ but... she didn't even want him to have to deal with knowing about it!

Maybe she thought that she would just drop, maybe she didn't realize that he was going to have to see her in that condition. And then once she realized that he was going to have to see her in that condition one of the first things she says is "I should have told you." Girl is on her deathbed wishing she had done it differently, for Gary's benefit.

I saw somebody on Twitter tried to come for her about not going to Gary after he killed Fox (you know, shortly after her surgery to save her from the very brink of death, and listen... Quinn comes to see about Gary when she can. She’s done it several times. In fact, I’ma make a whole POST about Quinn and Gary moments SPECIFICALLY to point out to haters in the main tag - where they got Quinn Ergon, and by extension, me, FUCKED UP.

Stop Playing in Quinn Face

HI! HELLO. ACTUALLY MY FAVORITE PART OF THIS SEASON IS THAT QUINN AND GARY JUST FUCKED. THANK YOU VERY MUCH. THANKS. OK. Back 2 bidness

See.. after Gary and Quinn got over the humps of Quinn’s Final Space poisoning... everyone got it... nobody told her until Avocato was mad and told her during a lash out, and let me say something about Avocato’s fucking audacity this season...

♡ Avocato (Note: His name is A-V-O-C-A-T-O. Some of y’all be tryna stan and y’all can’t even spell his name.)

I done seent Avacata, Avocata... That’s not that dude name. Be writing whole ass expositions about some other Ventrexian n*gga. Hope this helps:

AVOCATO. Listen, boy. YOU decided to be a traitor to your people and your king and queen. YOU decided to dedicate your cause to the Lord Commander and lied to your son his entire life about killing his parents, raising him, and never talking to him about it.

Yet and STILL - whenever you had the chance to finally tell him, you ain’t do the shit. Lord Commander gave you the perfect ass opportunity - WHEN IT CAME UP, and even then, with that boy looking you dead in the face and being glad that now he knows everything... you ain’t Ventrexian man up.

Then, whenever you were supposed to be checking on Gary after his traumatic murder fight with Fox and Invictus, you turned it around and literally made it about you. attacking him in the process and only after a physical fight did you apologize. (And y’all still didn’t get back to what had happened to Gary, which was no real fault of his own).

Fast forward to after you willingly agreed to stay behind and fight and y’all lost. Now, it was Quinn’s turn to be the center of your blame and you lashed out at her because everybody is dying, despite the fact that y’all agreed to stay behind and fight, nobody even told her that y’all were sick, AND you still wasn’t 100 with Little Cato.

You just had a lot of mothafuckin audacity this season, Avocato, and I personally was not here for the shit. Even when Ash blasted yo ass, your main thought was to threaten to kill her if she took Little Cato, instead of assuring her that despite what you’ve done, Little Cato was safe with you. No, she wouldn’t have listened to you. But, the words you chose tell us about who you are and how you are. You a war mongering killer that don’t ever take responsibility for his shit, and even in those brief moments that you do, its always somebody else’s problem.

I’da thunk that LC getting snatched away would be humbling for you, but I guess you were chosen by the writers for minimal growth. Bye, Avocato. Witcha bitch ass. We is not cool right now, but you do you. Hope you find some growth up there in ya ass, where ya head been. 😁 Can’t believe I mourned yo ass. You coulda stayed dead as hell.

FINALE NOTES:

OK BITCH OK THIS FINALE WAS HYPE!

Let me pull it up so that I can liveblog it for the shit that I need to conclude this journey.

We start out after Ash done took Little Cato and burnt off. Gary and AVOCATO done said they finna go get they son. Chile, I cannot handle Biskit voice. I like that lil’ dude but ya voice, Mane. I can’t with it.

OK OK OK... Whenever Quinn comes up to Gary to talk to him and say potential goodbyes, she look like she wanna say some and that makes me think about whenever she looked like she wanted to say something in season 1 and didn’t. Quinn as grown a lot in her feelings for Gary, but she still has that hard time with talking about her feelings, but I love that you can see them in her face.

Chile... these folk was kinda taking they time gettin started, huh? Knuckas, do y’all remember that everybody finna die of FS poisoning? Lol. Also... why didn’t they start hallucinating and shit? I guess its not until it covers ya face?

NIGHTFALL. 😥 I love you, Sis. I miss you. But, “Because I’m you and WE think of everything...” YES. I HAVE BEEN SAYING THAT! EVERYBODY EXPECTS QUINN TO THINK OF EVERYTHING AND WHENEVER THEY DON’T THINK OF THE THINGS, SHE GETS BLAMED FOR MAKING THE TOUGH DECISIONS THAT NOBODY ELSE COULD EVEN MAKE. Underappreciated, really. And people still mark Nightfall as a villain, despite the fact that she not only sacrificed herself, but also came specifically to help another Gary. Sidenote - Nightfall didn’t actually pursuit Quinn’s Gary until Quinn was trapped in Final Space and she thought she got a signal from him. So, I’m still salty AF that she been labelled as a villain just because people don’t like her, when her actions have all been to try to help. Here is no difference. She thought of the things that she didn’t think a younger version of her would think of, and left it for Quinn to find. Nightfall be on RNS, and most of y’all didn’t deserve her.

Quinn’s identity crisis is so sad, but I liked that Nightfall EVEN thought about that. And Sheryl... you kinda starting to grow on me. I hate to give shitty mothers who find compassion in old chance a try, but she do seem to really be giving it a go.

Ash is so fucked up that she rushes right into the devil’s arms. This reminds me of when trafficking victims go back to their abusers because they don’t have the resources to adjust in the system. 😪 She REALLY believes what she’s saying. She really feels like Little Cato is safer with Invictus with the Team Squad. That’s sad as fuck, bruh.

THE. ACTING. AND. ARTWORK. IN. THIS. CONFRONTATION. SCENE.

Avocato... I’m proud of you for FINALLY taking responsibility ad opening up about it. Little Cato’s reaction is precisely how kids in the system are, as well. They wanna be at home with their parents, no matter who their parents are or what they’ve done. and Avocato meant what he said and did what I referred to earlier as “Ventraxian man up.”

“I’m sorry we failed you,” from Gary was so important. Because, they technically did fail her. Had Ash seen the same amount of love from Gary as she’s seen him give to others, she might have been more receptive to the truth and less susceptible to lies. But, as she had just said earlier, it was too late for kind words. She’s currently beyond accepting them from him. For a brief moment, it breaks through, but without that ability to know love from an adult properly, she can’t accept that apology right now.

H.U.E. with his big robot, Lord Commander...EYE. There’s so much happening right now bitch processing has left the room girl. Biskit did so damn much this episode. And it was good to see everybody on the team have a moment to help things, instead of like one person having to handle the bulk of things.

Quinn’s begging voice... its such a contrast from whenever she sent out the SOS in season 1 and was afraid and angry. Like... the desperation here shows her softness.

Ash’s RAGE Bitch...

Gary’s “I love you...” She looked so happy! And then she just sat with it. I feel like she definitely loves him too, but she doesn’t communicate that way. But, her FACE. She was just... did she think that he didn’t before, or was she just speechless because she didn’t expect to hear it? Because, we gotta be real... Sis probably has not ever heard those words from anybody before. And that first time, when it’s really there is a DOOZIE. She had an abusive mother, a seemingly jealous or competitive sister, and we saw how nobody in the Infinity Guard respected her ass when she was serving them the real. I think this is the first time she’s been in love or felt it and when Gary said it, she had to collect herself. The way she ran to him and jumped into his arms??? SHIPPING CRACK. And Mooncake was a part of their hug too. I have a lot of feelings about this dynamic since Quinn and Mooncake are the only characters that we’ve seen Gary have these “love at first sight” reactions to and Mooncake is the first character that I recall Quinn being nice to in S1.

So.. my heart was very full when they ripped it from my chest moments later. Mooncake has been watching Team Squad members be self sacrificing for a little while now, and he loves his family and Gary so much that he rushes straight towards danger. (Sure, I don’t think that he estimated how powerful Ash could be at this moment), but he had to at least consider that he might be caught or left behind.

Bitch, Ash is GONE. She said, “Fuck all y’all!” Not knowing whether or not Mooncake is destroyed makes it very hard for me to know how much I can stand this, but I also want to hope that he is gonna survive. Quinn having to make the decision to lightfold is hella sad, but even though Gary is destroyed, he has to know that this is exactly how Ash must’ve felt whenever he had to make the call to leave Fox behind. She hated to do that to Gary. She even seemed more regretful about it than Gary did whenever he had to leave Fox and when he left Ash. Sure, its because she loves him more than he loved Fox and Ash, but its a terrible position to be in to have to hurt somebody you love like that. On the other hand, they gave her hella shit for them not escaping when could have the first time, so naturally, she was going to make this decision.

It very much sucks that Invictus is free and my brain can’t eeem FATHOM what that means for everything and everybody, but the Final Space poisoning left the Team Squad’s system, so maybe there is a rejuvenation of some sort in Invictus’ power? Or does Final Space poisoning leave your system as soon as you leave Final Space? I don’t think that was clarified.

Anyways, I still don’t hate Ash. Y’all can say whatever about it, but I see sad white boys get forgiven all day every day on this site, and I’m upset, but I’m not letting my baby go. I’m not cheering her on, but unless she dies, I’m gonna hope for the best for her, like I said here.

DAMN this season was some shit. Ionknow if I’m emotionally capable of watching another season of Final Space in progress. If they make it back for another season, I will most likely just wait until the end to dive in and let them shock my senses all at once instead of on a weekly goddamn basis, because GODDAMN GODDAMN GODDDAMN!

@andromidagalaxie @daintyurbanprincess @shslargue @space-finally The Quinnary Moments Masterlist probably won’t be ready by Quinn’s birthday, since her birthday is the day before Juneteenth, but I’ve started on a little fic that I might have the first installment of posted by then. We shall see.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Here is my JOURNEY during my first watch of the first two seasons of the show. (I watched Season 3 in progress and waited until it was over to write up this review) and my probably incoherent tag of whenever I do me a lil’ liveblogging: Nesha Watches Final Space, and here is my review on Quinnary: BFCD Reviews by Nesha: (Quinn Ergon/Nightfall x Gary Goodspeed) FINAL SPACE

#Final Space #BFCD Reviews by Nesha #Nesha Watches Final Space #Nesha Watches #Quinn Ergon #Quinn Ergon commentary #Final Space season 3 #Final Space spoilers #long post

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babiesdreams · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Allies and enemies.

Go check out previous chapters here so that you don't get lost

Word count: 12K ~ 20 pages

Johnny and Jaehyun bodies start reappearing on the same spot they were before leaving the room under the suspicious circumstances that nobody seemed to understand. Taeyong gets up from the floor finally recovering some light on his eyes. “What happened. Are you both okay?” Taeyong says looking at both of the boys alternatively with a worried look in his face.

“We are, but we need to talk” Johnny says in a low tone, completely worried about the situation. “Everyone older than Lucas, including him, come with us” Jaehyun says, backing his friend up. “Wait, Lucas and I are the same age” Mark says angrily. “Not you, Mark” Johnny says in a serious tone, which makes the younger boy give up on his intentions and shut up for the moment. All the mentioned boys leave the room, following Johnny’s steps to a longer and bigger room far enough from the previous one to not let the younger boys hear.

“Okay, What the hell happened?” Kun says getting slightly aggressive. “We had a mission assigned. We just had to follow it and we received points at the end of it” Jaehyun explains, leaving some empty holes to cover up for the rest to understand. “Why did you call us apart to tell us that?” Lucas says, not understanding the separation made by his friends. “Because, the missions are sexual” Johnny says in a low tone. “We don’t know that yet” Jaehyun complains at his explanation. “Our mission was sexual, but we don’t know if all of them will be like this” Jaehyun explains, giving more details.

“What was the mission?” Yuta says with a serious look in his eyes. “We had to-” Johnny tries to explain but Jaehyun stops him. “We had an agreement, what happened in the mission, stays in the motherfucking mission” Jaehyun says holding Johnny’s shirt on his hand in a threatening action. “Fine” Johnny grunts out, slapping the boy’s hand out of his shirt. “So about the points, How many of them did you receive?” Taeil says, trying to calm the heated atmosphere. “One each, and two for the reader” Johnny says looking into the oldest eyes.

“So, if I understood correctly, we fuck, and receive bonifications for it?” Jungwoo asks in a teasy tone. “I don’t see the problem here” He says raising his arms in a not-understanding pose. “Then you tell the virgins how they’re gonna lose their v card in a fucking game with a stranger” Johnny says, agressively getting closer to the boy, who looks away, kind of regretting his words. “Wait, the game forces you to have sex?” Doyoung asks worriedly. “No, It gave us an option to decline the offer, but we don’t know what will happen if we do'' Jaehyun explains.

“We have to figure it out. Whoever is next has to decline the offer” Taeyong says, speaking up after a long time processing the situation. “What? What if we die?” Lucas asks, almost offended by Taeyong’s offer. “I’ll do it then” Taeyong says, challenging the boy with his look. “Declining will not make us die, nor disappear” Ten says, interrupting the, in his eyes, pathetic scenario. “The game wants all 23 of us to play, they wouldn’t let us die so easily. We have to figure out how to get points though”

“By fucking, it’s obvious” Jaehyun replies to him, but ten shakes his head. “It isn’t like that at all” He explains. “Why not?” Lucas asks slightly altered. “You guys had a threesome right?” Ten asks, looking at both of them, trying to read their expressions. “Yes” Johnny replies honestly and Jaehyun reacts instantly. “Dude” He says, slapping the boy’s chest. “What? Does it matter at all? We don’t even know what they’ll have to do in the future. Let’s just not judge each other. Ten, continue please” Ten nods before continuing with his deductions. “If both of you had a threesome with the reader, that means she had sex with both of you, which gives us our first hypothesis. Points are simply a body count. We can actually verify that, on the next mission that implies any of you, because if they get more points, this theory will be impossible and completely wrong” He explains to the group that look at him amused by his abilities. “and what if that happens, and the hypothesis is wrong?” Kun asks genuinely curious. “Second hypothesis: Nothing to do with sex” Winwin finally speaks up, stealing Ten’s words.

“This makes no sense at all” Doyoung says, holding his head in between his hands, in a desperately confused action. “It’s too soon to fully understand the game” Winwin says, tapping Doyoung’s back in support. “Can you explain to us everything that happened, so that we understand the enemy?” Jungwoo asks, genuinely scared now.

“Dude I’m done with this” Johnny says angrily “Enemy? Do you even know what you’re saying?” She’s not our enemy. I don’t know about Jaehyun, but I had fun. It’s true that we didn’t want to at the beginning, but then we both wanted, and personally it was the best sex I had in my life. And the girl was just, perfect, she was all I ever dreamed about.” He explains in a heated tone of voice. “Dude, calm down” Jaehyun says, putting his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, but he puts it away. “No, dude, I won’t calm down. And you also told me this, you love her. We don’t even know her and we love her, how is that possible?” Johnny says almost tearing up.

“The game master” Winwin says looking at the wall. “They will make us do whatever they want, they control us. So in order to defeat the game” Winwin starts explaining. “We need to know the master” Taeil finishes, understanding the logic. “I don’t care about the master, but the reader is innocent, I don’t think she knows what’s going on” Johnny explains, defending you.

“Hyung!!” Mark screams, as he rushes his way to the room’s door. He catches his breath slowly and says “The screen, has lighted up again” He says in between heavy breaths, provoking all of the boys to leave the room, rushing themselves to the “mission room”

The message “Mission Two: Reaction” Can be read on the screen. The boys’ eyes are fixed on the screen, until something appears on the huge table positioned in the middle of the room. All of them look at the objects that just appeared, appreciating the 23 rings. They start grabbing them, until each one of them has one ring.

“The rings will take the shape their owner wants them to be, and it will help you on your missions” The message appears on the screen making the boys turn and look at it. Almost instantly, Taeyong’s ring turns into a fancy looking ring with a red gemstone in the middle, Haechan’s turns into a simple ring with a sun drawn on it and Johnny’s turns into a futuristic looking clock.

The rest of the boys are quite unable to change the rings as they can’t picture them to be anything else but a simple silver ring. “Team 1’s turn” The screen types making everyone look around trying to understand what it meant. Seconds later the older boys start disappearing (Taeyong, Taeil, Johnny, Yuta, Kun, Doyoung and Ten)

They all appear in different rooms, far away from each other so that when Taeyong screams his lungs out, nobody can hear him. The rings of the boys (and Johnny’s clock) lets them see a new screen, this time projected on the air. “Mission: Walking on the reader changing, Team 1” The boys prepare themselves mentally, before two buttoms appear in front of their eyes: “Accept” and “Decline”

All of them press accept, not even thinking about it. All except from Taeyong, who recalls the others’ words from before, about dying if declining, about how it wasn’t that bad… But he also listens to his inner voice, telling him how he must protect the youngest members from this forced situation, how he has to do something about this, get them out of this game. But he can’t decline now, not when everyone’s lives could be at risk. So he presses the “accept” button as well after a couple of minutes of pure hesitation.

The boys appear in front of a door, knowing damn well that they had to open it. Taeyong hesitates at first, but then he’s definitely determined and he opens it up quickly, seeing your half-naked body in front of his eyes. He asks you “Who are you?” And then everything shuts down, with a “Mission failed” message, written all over.

“As it’s your first time, we’ll give you a second chance, act like you normally would to win the game” His ring projects out in front of his eyes. He sighs and opens the door again. After a couple of minutes, everything disappears, letting him alone in the room once again. “Reaction: walking on Y/N changing: Mission completed. Points gained: 0” Appears in front of all of the boys’ eyes.

And like that, their bodies start disappearing once again, to reappear in the common “Mission room” All of the boys that went on the mission look at each other, not knowing what to do. And Kun, taking the lead for Taeyong gets closer to the younger members, explaining how the missions work. “This one is kind of a reaction thing, so you just react naturally to the given situation. You don’t need to do anything at all just be yourselves okay?” He explains and the boys nod, still confused at the situation.

Yuta wanders around the room, looking for some sort of door, or even a clue of how to get out of there. His mind remembers the screen message about the rings and in his mind he pictures the ring turning into a nice necklace with a stone hanging on the middle of it. He smiles looking at how it changes its form on his hand. He then pictures a key on his head, but the picture of it isn’t clear enough to change the object again, so he just puts the necklace around his neck.

Johnny and Taeil try their best to calm Taeyong down, as his shaky hands hide his face from the rest of the members. Taeyong’s sensitive nature really makes him break at this stressful situation. In his mind there are only thoughts of how he should have somehow avoided this situation and protected his friends from this cruel game, but he knows deep down it’s nobody's fault, except for the creator of the game.

Meanwhile Doyoung and Ten discuss some theories about the game’s rules, how to beat it and the rings’ posible uses. Getting to the conclusion that they have one chance to change the ring’s shape in their own benefit. “Everyone, please do not change your rings’ shape just yet” Doyoung shouted loudly. “It may be useful in the future” Ten explains further in.

But all of these situations stop as the screen lights up again, this time with the message “Team 2’s turn” Before the second team (Jaehyun, Winwin, Jungwoo, Lucas, Mark, Xiaojun and Hendery) starts disappearing slowly. They are mentally prepared for this after listening carefully to Kun’s words and they get the job done pretty easily. They all open their doors right away, giving real reactions to the given situations, just as Kun instructed and getting out of the game pretty quickly.

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The common room is filled with different theories, “The writer’s our only enemy” Taeyong says angily. “We don’t know that” Doyoung interrupts him. “They could not be conscious of what is going on” Doyoung explains calmly. “Guys” Haechan says softly, but everyone ignores his words. “Guys!” He shouts, getting everyone’s attention. “We can read what she writes” He says looking at the screen he’s been touching for the past hour.

“What?” Renjun says turning his gaze to the screen. “Look, Here’s Johnny’s and Jaehyun’s first mission. And here’s the first team reaction” He says pointing at the screen. “Don’t read it” Johnny says intensely, running towards the chuckly boy. “You think I didn’t already? Cute” Donghyuck coos at the older boy. “That was private, you little” Johnny says, grabbing the younger boy's shirt in his fist. “Calm down Johnny” Ten says patting his back and he lets Haechan’s body go. “How did you get in?” Ten asks curiously. “There was a password, and it was “nctot23”, not really imaginative, don’t you think?” Ten chuckles lightly at his joke.

“And, the writer’s name is Sam. Look at her first post. Her name is Sam and she clearly has limits established on her writing. Also, she’s asking for requests, which means the readers can actually tell her what to write, but she hasn’t got them yet. Also she talks about how we are the first group, not the only one. Conclusion: She’s clearly a fan and not plenty conscious of this game she created.” Haechan exposes his theory and the others listen carefully. “How do you know she’s a girl?” Jeno asks, still confused at the situation.

“Mainly because of her profile pic, but also because the only fic with a clear gender for the reader is referring to a girl, which leads me to the conclusion she’s most comfortable with that type of fics, as it’s also her first one, so 99% sure she’s a girl.” Donghyuck explains, feeling proud of himself. “Okay, let’s define limits in here. The screen will only be used to get information about Sam, not to read others' fics, as it is an invasion of our privacy '' Johnny says looking fiercely into Haechan’s eyes, who smirks. “Agreed” He says smiling lightly.

As Team 2 gets back in the room, the boys see how their reaction mission appears on the screen. The boys explain the new information to the Team 2’s boys. “This is too much information” Winwin says, getting his hands to his head, exhausted and overwhelmed by the whole situation. “So you’ve read what happened that night” Jaehyun says with fierce eyes looking right into Donghyuck’s, who chuckles. “Yes'' He replies teasingly. “So it’s just fair that we read one of yours when you get them” Jaehyun says, challenging him. He smiles and just says “Whatever, dude, I don’t think I’m Sam’s bias anyway, so I doubt she’ll write about me that way. But if you wanna learn from my abilities, I don’t mind teaching you” He says in a teasy tone that gets into Jaehyun’s anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him” He growls out getting up, but Johnny stops him. “It’s fine dude” Johnny says, calming him down. “I still don’t see this as a bad thing. I mean, today’s mission wasn’t even hard” Jungwoo says, raising a brow. “And our youngests friends won't have to do weird stuff, so like, everything’s fine” He explains.

“We haven’t even eaten since we got in here” Chenle says with a pout on his face. “Game, we want to eat” Sungchan says, after the boy’s comment. The screen changes into the lettering that normally can be seen on it. “Food on the dining room ← ” Types on the dark screen. Everyone looks at it and follows the arrow direction, getting into a big ass dinning room, with a luxurious table, set and full of their favourite foods and a lot of different technology devices, 23 phones, along with different game consoles and a huge Tv that could be seen from every corner of the room. Apart from the table, big couches, able to fit all of them and even more people.

Their eyes shine, mesmerized by the expensive looking dining room, which contrasts with the minimalistic common room. “Dude” Mark says. The younger members chuckle and explore around the room, while the oldests get right to the food. Everything looks delicious, the different plates full of food and the expensive wine, beer and other alcoholic beverages. Hendery’s mouth starts drooling at the view and delicious smells. “Thank you sam!” Lucas shouts happily, getting some chicken into his mouth and eating it right away. “Dude, shut up, we don’t know if she sees us” Winwin says shily hitting the boy’s arm.

“Oh I hope she is” Lucas says with his mouth full of food. Ten looks at the plate from where Lucas got his food and points out. “It’s obvious she likes Harry Potter” Chuckling “The food plates get filled when you eat them” He says. “And there’s no doubt she likes us” Taeil says, smiling as he gets some food as well. “It looks like it’s not too bad, at the end of the day” Taeyong says sitting on one of the chairs and Johnny sits next to him, getting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I told you” he simply says, smiling at him.

Everyone sits up and eats as much as they want. Filling up their energy as they do. The magic atmosphere of the room makes them forget about the whole situation. Well, not all of them forget. Renjun, who’s stayed silent through almost the whole experience, keeps in mind how the youngest members haven’t yet entered the mission, wondering in his head when it would happen. He also can’t help but wonder how Sam would be, how she would look like, how her life was like… Everything was a question without answer in his busy mind.

There’s another member whose mind can’t keep quiet, Sungchan. For him it was strange to see how a fan was writing about him too. Why write about him that soonly? And also was he old enough? He was 18+ but he hadn’t yet had his first time, so he really was wondering about all of that.

After a couple of hours, Team 3 were called for their part on the mission.

Nervousness was constantly present. The boys get into different separated rooms, just like the other Teams did. All of them recall Kun’s instructions about the mission, however Jaemin and Shotaro can’t help but be anxious and hesitant. Jaemin’s mind is busy thinking about which approach he should go for, a sexy vibe or a cute approach. He thinks about the vibe he gave as an idol, of the image fans normally have of him. He thought of that mix of cute and sexy and acted upon it.

Shotaro just was insecure about the situation, after listening to the rest of the boys' plans. The funny approach of chenle, the cute and innocent approach of Jisung, the sexy approach of Haechan… He was just confused on how to react. But he finally decided to let go and react like he would have naturally done.

They finally finish the mission, getting out of the rooms with, yet again 0 point.

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The rest of the members explored the place, which happened to be huge, almost like a whole city. There were three different buildings, equipped with their own kitchen, dining room, and bedrooms, the doors to the three buildings were completely open when they found them.

The first building said “Team 1” The second “Team 2” and the third one “Team 3” So they deduced where they had to stay at night by the labels. Also the outside wasn’t normal. There was a sun, but it was quite brighter than the regular sun, there also were clouds, but they looked fluffier than the regular ones. And the grass? The brightest tone of green. The color palette was really something. At the distance there was a whole city to be explored, but since it started getting dark, the boys decided to just stay in the huge buildings for the night.

The team 1 building was simple, minimalistic and modern-styled. The walls were completely white, the details, and furniture were black, contrasting the walls. The bedrooms upstairs were plain, simple and pretty much non-personalized. There was a lack of decoration in them that made them feel empty.

The team 2 was a castle looking house, more classy, big columns, nice sculptures, huge chandeliers… The general vibes were royalty like (Just like the residents). The bedrooms had more personality than Team 1’s but still pretty basic, given the royalty vibe of course.

Team 3’s building was simple yet fun. There were a lot of different games, technology devices and pcs. It had a neo/ futuristic vibe to it. Each room was a different colour themed. Still there was no personality into them, it was more of like a well decorated, general room exposition (?

Each team entered their assigned buildings. Closing the doors behind them, even though they were alone in that world, you just never know. The boys have a nice sleep, the best they had in years. The beds and buildings were specially designed for having the best sleep and rest possible.

---------------------------------------------

Next morning, Doyoung was the first to wake up, going directly to the main door, in search of some fresh air. But when his hand went to open the door it was completely locked. He was unable to open or break it, making him frustrated. After calling all of the Team 1 boys in, they cleared out how it was definitely locked.

The boys tried to scream, to communicate with the other teams, but they received no answer whatsoever. In their heads there was still a possibility that they didn’t close the door, but reality couldn’t be changed.

Meanwhile inside Team 2 building, everything seemed fine, Jaehyun made breakfast for the rest, even if they could have just gone to the great dining room and wished for whatever food they wanted. But he felt the sudden need to cook, and the faces of the younger boys made it worthy. But this magic moment broke into tiny pieces when he tried to open the door to share the food with the rest of the members, but it didn’t open. Just like Team 1’s door, it was locked and impossible to get open.

Team 3 was completely aware of the issue before any of the mentioned noticed. As Jeno and Jaemin saw a lot of bicycles, they wanted to go on a ride around the fantasy looking village. But it never happened, as the door was completely closed. But fortunately, Jisung, who had been playing with the phone he chose from the dining room, thought of a way to communicate.

“Okay, there are only three apps. The first one is the app about the game, where we receive the missions and where the writer posts. The second app is an app that connects the phones with the rest of the devices, so that you can play, watch tv, etc. in here. And the third app is a communication app. It connects all 23 phones together, so we can just talk to them through the phones” Jisung explains calmly. “Yeah but there’s no guarantee that they’ll see it” Chenle says looking up.

“Maybe, but yesterday I texted Taeil to test it, and he responded, so maybe we should try” He says and the rest of the boys give up. “Fiiine” Jaemin says, getting his phone.

--General chatroom--

10:30 A.M [Jaemin] : “Are you locked as well?”

10:31 AM [Taeyong] : “Yes”

10:31 AM [Johnny] : “Yes”

10:31 AM [Jaehyun] : “Yes”

10:31 AM [Winwin] : “yes 😔”

10:32 AM [Yuta] : “Winwin don’t be sad TT”

10:33 AM [Ten] : “Do you all have passwords pads on the door?”

10:34 AM [Haechan] : “Yes”

10:34 AM [Hendery] : “Omg I hate this place”

10:34 AM [Lucas] : “I can’t solve this things 😭😭😭”

10:34 AM [Yangyang] : “Are there hints or something?”

10:34 AM [Taeil] : “Have you all eaten???”

10:35 AM [Jungwoo] : “We should choose a member per Team to talk, os this is going to be messy”

10:36 AM [Haechan] : “Done, I’m my team’s representative member”

10:36 AM [Chenle] : “@Haechan, you’re not”

10:37 AM [Xiaojun] : “Let’s just not talk unless it’s something important”

And just like that the whole chat room went silent, as every team decided to just try to figure out on their own and, if something worked, they could tell each other.

----------------------------------------------------

Team 1:

“Stop trying, It won’t open” Taeil says exhaustedly to Johnny. The strong boy has been throwing himself towards the door for hours now, making it look even more impossible that it originally looked like.

“So we’re stuck” Yuta says, sitting on a comfy white and black sofa. “It’s because we closed the door, the lock was already designed. but we made it work like that. If we knew that before, we could have changed the password” Ten slowly explains.

“So, can we cook? I’m hungry” Johnny says, finally giving up. “I’ll do that” Kun simply replies before getting lost in the kitchen. “God, I hate this place” Doyoung says, leaving for the outside backyard, getting some fresh air finally.

---------------------------------------------------

Team 2:

The atmosphere was somehow chilled. The situation wasn’t really planned, but these boys were having a nice time together. Mark, Lucas and Hendery were constantly laughing at each other's jokes. Jaehyun, Xiaojun and Winwin were casually discussing what to try for the password. And Jungwoo was just chilling, trying to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere.

Maybe it was the fact that the place was really comfortable and more than what they could ever wish for, but they weren’t feeling anxious at all, which completely contrasted the atmosphere on Team 1’s building.

“Have you tried 127?” Jaehyun asks. “Duh, It was one of the first things I tried” Sicheng replies teasingly.

Their constant jokes and comments made it the best atmosphere among the 3 Teams.

--------------------------------------------------

Team 3:

They were all chilling, busy playing games, or watching TV, or using the pc, not really worried about the situation. Except for Haechan, this boy had stuck in his mind how he should know the password of the lock, even if he wasn’t really able to. It was not that he was worried tho, more like he wanted to prove himself.

“No, no, no, Fuck, I missed” Jaemin shouts “You suck at this game” Jeno teased him. “Shut up” Jaemin said, getting into a fake fight with the boy.

“You both shut up, I can’t think” Donghyuck shouts from the door lock. Shotaro, who walks beside him, offers the boy some chips from a bag he was holding “Thank you” The angry boy says, grabbing a chip. *angrily eats the chip*

-----------------------------------------------------

Days quickly pass by. Stucking the boys into a routine, based on getting the missions done and returning to the comfort of the buildings. Once they finish their missions, they appear right where they were before, so they’re still unable to exit. The missions can be summed up in something like this:

Members chronicles:

→ How to say this: [+18]

Yangyang was confused. Why him over other members? He wasn’t really that popular and he wasn’t usually the target of this kind of stuff. Yet all of his thoughts disappear when he sees your body, your face, the natural glow on your skin, your perfect shade of hair, you were everything he ever dreamt or wished of. The mission went off just like a lucid dream, a completely perfect one, making him want to stay forever with you.

But when he returned, he faced reality. You weren’t more than just a game’s character, so he really shouldn’t fall in love with you. That was the reasonable thing to do. But his mind… His mind was completely out of reality, only thinking on your face, your hair, your body… Your voice, your smell, your touch. He can’t stop thinking about you, because you were the most perfect thing he ever saw, or touched.

He just can’t quite understand how it is possible. And why he should just forget about you. It wasn’t fair at all.

→ Mirrors:

Doyoung wakes up, heavenly breathing. “Was that a dream or a mission?” His mind wonders, but the points board showing on the projection of his ring confirms it. He moves tiredly towards the shower. He really promised himself not to fall in love during this thing, this game. But how could he ignore the memory of a perfect, real looking dream?

The cold water brushes away his thoughts, letting him free of thoughts, of your memories. The fact that this was all a game made him anxious, thinking you could die or disappear every moment. But mostly, the thought of not being able to know where you were, was just something superior to him.

�� Day 1: Kun. [+18]

His hands were shaking, moments ago they were grabbing your figure in them, your perfectly designed figure. Yet why weren’t you there? Who was the reader? Who was Sam? Why was she so cruel?? Kun’s mind was angrily wandering around the different things that this game gave him, and the one it took away from him. Feeling uneasy, and confused.

→ *Haechan’s pov: “Fuck” He curses, seeing the 23 nights with nct masterlist. “We’re all going in” He didn’t really have a problem with this game, or the situations, but he liked his sexual stuff to stay private, he could get really… Kinky sometimes and he didn’t want the members to judge him.

→ Day 2: Jaehyun. [+18]

“That was hotter than Mission one” He simply thinks, letting his body rest on the comfortable bed. The soft blankets and mattress hug him in, making him sleepy fastly. “I might love her” He simply thinks before falling completely asleep.

His dreams are full of your image, being that the only deep wish of his mind at the moment. His dream recreates the mission, every detail, every moment, every touch...

→ Day 3: Jisung.

“Is this how love feels?” Jisung’s mind was really full of different thoughts. He never experienced something like that before and it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, he felt good, almost happy(?. He couldn’t quite describe it properly… It was just weird. And after a long time lying down on his bed, looking at the ceiling and thinking about everything and anything, he finally got back to his usual self. He played games with the boys and tried to forget about the fictional person he fell in love with, though it seemed like an impossible mission.

→ Mlt tease you.

A survey appears in front of the boys’ eyes. The questions were really weird too. “From 1 through 10 How much do you enjoy teasing people around you?” There are quite a lot of questions but they eventually manage to complete it, the last question was the only one marked as required. “Which member is the biggest teaser?”

The answer was unanimous, “Haechan” “Lee Donghyuck” It was quite easy to determine the boy’s nature.

→ Drawing post.

“She drew me?” Doyoung asks and Donghyuck simply nods. “It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” He says, showing the drawing to the older boy. “Yeah, but why me? Out of all of us, why me?” Doyoung's words really reflected how serious and worried he was. “Maybe you’re special, who knows?” Haechan says shrugging.

→ Day 4: Sungchan.

“Game take me back” He shouts. Sungchan’s screams can be heard everywhere around the building. “I promised her she wouldn’t have to leave my side” His eyes become teary as he shouts the words. “Why did you take her from me?” His voice breaks, getting into a tone that could break anyone’s heart. “Why are you doing this?” He screams even more, yet no answer is given to him. Renjun runs towards him, as the rest stay quiet, pale at the situation.

“It was just a mission Sungchan” He says calmly. “It was more than a mission Hyung” His cries suffocate against Renjun’s sweater. “Sam’s crossing the line” Jeno says, clenching his teeth as he gets out of the room.

→ Day 5: Johnny. [+18]

“Fuck” He whispers. His hands try to hide his bulge as he gets to the shower, trying to calm himself down. He’s heard how everyone’s been sad or mad about their missions,, but his missions were really getting him horny and needy. It’s almost as if they were made for him, as if Sam knew him. The cold water makes his skin bristle.

His wet body leaves the bathtub, getting out with a towel around his hips. Even if he took a cold shower and tried his best to forget about the mission, he couldn’t get his bulge to disappear.

→ Lucas blurb w/ kids.

Lucas appears again, in front of the rest, all of the guys’ eyes fixed on him, trying to decipher what his mission was about. Lucas looks away and walks upstairs, trying to hide from everyone else. “Hey, tell us what it was about” Hendery shouts but Mark hits him lightly. “Dude leave him alone for a while”

Lucas' figure hides in the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. His eyes get filled with tears as he looks in the mirror, looking at his arms, where he previously was holding his newborn child. Tears keep falling down his cheeks, as he felt he lost his whole world, a world he didn’t even know that existed, yet a world he couldn’t live without.

→ Day 6: Taeil. [+18]

“I’m not like that” He thought to himself. “I’m not like that” The thought repeated inside his head. His hand hits his head, as he was trying to convince himself of his inner thoughts. “I’m not jealous” He screamed inside of his head. “I’m not jealous of him” But then he remembers the mission, the way your body felt around him, your moans, his heavy breaths. “Fuck” He whispered.

He lets his body fall into the soft mattress. His eyes look at the white ceiling, but instead of white he sees your image, moving in front of him. Instead of the silence he hears your moans and whimpers. It felt like the movie was replaying in front of his eyes.

→ Day 7: Yuta. [+18]

05:45 AM [Yuta] to [Haechan] : “You had fun huh?”

05:46 AM [Haechan] to [Yuta] : “I wasn’t in, you stupid.”

05:47 AM [Yuta] to [Haechan] : “Okay, okay, don’t kill me, I’m just saying you’ll have fun kkkk”

Yuta’s laughs fill the silent room. “That was fun” He thinks to himself. His smile can’t disappear from his face. He remembers your face, your laughs, your whimpers, Everything is just too blurry to remember, yet too perfect to forget.

→ Roleplay w/ Johnny.

Johnny’s screen lights up showing a notification: [To Johnny: "Hi baby, looking handsome lately ;)"]

“What the hell is this?” He thought to himself. But the screen soonly showed instructions. Answer the reader’s questions/ talk to them. He scratches his head. “How should I answer this?” He thinks, while he remembers the missions he’s been in and starts typing:

[“Okay, first of all, thanks for the compliment, but, babygirl, Who told you to call me baby? Cause they’re so wrong, bet you don’t wanna be a nasty girl. -Johnny suh I like to be called daddy or just Johnny thank you ;)”]

→ Roleplay w/ Yuta.

[To Yuta💕✨ “I might be falling for you deeply” - baby anon.] Yuta chuckles when he sees the message “She’s so cute” He thinks before he types his answer [“Oh baby I don’t blame you for that. But with this pretty words of yours I might be falling too. -Yuta”] He throws the phone to the bed and hides his face inside his bog palms, as his cheeks blush like they never did before.

→ Day 8: Ten. [+18]

“I’m gonna fucking kill that guy” He thinks to himself, but his body disappears from the scene. “Fuck” He says, throwing something to the floor. Johnny enters his room, wanting to check on his friend, after the loud noise. “I need to punch something” Ten says, looking angrily at the floor. “What happened?” Johnny asks curiously. “A dude fucking recorded us. What if it gets leaked?” He says worriedly. “Dude, this is not even real, it was just a mission, remember?”

“Right” He thinks calming down, breathing in and out slowly. His look loses life somehow, as if reality just hit him. “She’s not real” He whispers slowly.

→ Day 9: Doyoung. [+18]

He gets up off the bed, slowly. His lids close, remembering the image, the clear image of the mirror reflection. But this image starts getting blurry, your face, your body, they’re all mere distant thought, memories of what someday happened and what may not ever repeat again. His hand punches the wall, getting some wounds on his knuckles.

He wants to punch himself, he wants to stop his mind from thinking what he’s thinking, but how could he? How could he ever forget this? How could he live out of this game?

→ Chapter 0 .

“It's all written, everything that happened” Jungwoo thinks. He’s been reading the blog too, even if he wasn’t interested at first, he thought knowing the enemy was essential. “We are here because she’s writing it” His inner voice is angry as he’s able to tell now that this is completely Sam’s fault. “I’m getting revenge someday” He finally thinks, putting his phone away.

Haechan on the other hand, had another vibe when he read it. “I think she just wanted to write something different, I don’t think she knows we really exist” He explains. “Well that makes sense” Jeno says, understanding his words. “But that means she’s not gonna be able to take us out of here. Because she doesn’t know we’re here” He says looking down. “I guess” Haechan replies. “But honestly, it isn’t so bad, is it?” Yangyang says from a distance. “I mean, this place is really comfortable, and the missions aren’t dangerous”

“He’s right” Jaemin agrees as he eats some snacks. “It isn’t that bad” Chenle looks at him offended. “Well it could be better decorated. I hate my room’s wallpaper. It’s so ugly” He says and Jisung laughs “At least we have games, I heard Team 2 members live in a palace, they don’t have technology” Jisung says laughing. “A palace?!” Chenle’s high pitched voice screams “That’s so unfair” His disappointed voice says.

→ Reaction clumsy

Team 1 talked all night about Chapter 0 and how it could affect them. The change of topic in the posts was something really dangerous. From basic romantic stuff to a far more detailed and thriller matter. That meant the topics could change to very different matters, putting them in danger. That’s why they decided to break the game, break it from the inside.

The boys planned on destroying the scenario, making it impossible to complete the missions. However, when they were in, nobody was able to break nor do anything, except for Johnny. He managed to punch a wall, breaking it and the game suddenly shut down, for a split second. But it gets back on. This time letters and even the image is glitched, almost like a regular game.

He sees your body and walks towards it, before everything restores completely he whispers at you. “We are trapped in a game you have to do something to get us out” You look at him confused, but his serious gaze gets you doubting about his words. Was he being serious?. “Just act normally for now okay?” He whispers and like that the whole game comes back to its normal state.

When he reappears with the rest of the members he proudly speaks to them. “I talked with her about this” He says and everyone looks at him. “You did what?” Taeil asks. “What? It’s something good for us” Johnny explains but nobody is convinced by his words. “You broke the 4th wall dude” Yuta says scared. “It’s fine” Kun starts speaking while showing them his phone. “She deleted what you said to her, but the file is corrupted”

“Then we got what we wanted right?” Johnny asks but everyone shakes their heads. “We want to break the game, not confuse the reader” Yuta explains while he leaves the room with a disappointed look.

→ Day 10: Chenle.

“NO” He shouts, still crying. “Don’t take her away again” His desperate voice breaks all of the boys’ hearts. “Please” His voice and cries get weaker as he lets himself fall into the ground, on his knees. Jaemin comes inside of the room, while the rest decide to stay away from the situation. “What happened Chenle?” He says hugging the younger boy in his arms. Chenle manages to tell him, in between cries. “You’ll see her again” Jaemin says, trying to make him feel better. “That’s not true, nobody requests anything about me. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to see her again” He whispers, with a sad tone.

→ Day 11: Yangyang. [+18]

“Hey, can we talk?” He asks Chenle and the younger boy nods lightly. “How did she look for you?” He asks curiously. “I don’t know how to describe her, but I remember her dimples” Chenle says as his mind travels back to the previous night. “Why?”

Yangyang looks at him and then looks away “Because mine didn’t have dimples, I guess it’s different for everyone” He says looking down. “I guess we see what we want to see, just like the readers read about their favourites, we get to picture how they look for us” Chenle says, expressing his inner thoughts “That’s why it is so easy to fall for them” He finishes. Yangyang sighs “I guess so… It just… That means they’re not real right?”

Chenle looks at him with a disapproval expression “Not like you see them, but they exist” He simply says. Yangyang sighs louder. “Let’s play videogames” He says as he tries to forget about the mission.

→ Dream of Hc.

“Oh she dreamt of me...Cute” Haechan thinks to himself. He sighs as he reads the words. “Is she anxious?” “Why would she be?” His thoughts fill his mind, completely. “She says she’s not whipped. Sureeeeee Sam, sureee” He uses a teasy tone on his mind and smiles like a fool at the thought.

“We cooked ramen, do you want some?” Jaemin asks, getting into his room. “Yes, I’m coming” HE says getting up.

→ Day 12: Jeno. [+18]

Jeno brushes his hair, looking into the mirror. His hand touches it, as he recalls your face reflected on the mission’s mirror. His hand hits the mirror, breaking it into pieces, but getting fixed instantly. His hand, however, has cuts everywhere, letting blood come out of every tiny cut. He’s not even worried about that. He gets some bandaids from a first aid kit and puts it around his hands, making pressure so that the blood would stop coming out.

His mind just can’t stop thinking about you. Your ghost hunting his dreams and days, he’s not himself anymore and he can’t do anything to make it better.

→ Like this forever XJ [+18]

He lays down on the bed, on a spooning position, just like he was doing on the mission. His hands caress the empty spot next to him, recalling how your figure looked minutes ago. Tears keep falling from his eyes as he hugs the air. “I’ve missed you too” He whispers.

He stays like that for hours until he falls asleep, trying to dream about you so that he could see your face at least one more time. Yet knowing he should not think of you that way.

→ Day 13: Taeyong. [+18]

Team 1’s eyes all look in one direction, helplessly. The girl’s lying exhausted figure in the middle of the room. Her head was bleeding from the hit the strong man gave her in the Mission. “Who is she?” Johnny asks. “It’s the reader” Doyoung says calmly. “No, she looks nothing like the reader” Yuta answers, getting closer to my body.

“Is she dead?” Taeil asks, covering his eyes from the bloody scene. “No, she’s just hurted” Taeyong clears out. “We need her to get info” He finishes. “She’s Sam” Ten finally points out. Everyone owes, not believing his words. “We need to kill her” Yuta says seriously. “Are you crazy? She’s our way out” Doyoung says to him.

“Let’s calm down and wait for her to wake up” Kun says as calmly as he possibly can. “Then we can ask her whatever we want” He finishes, letting the cold atmosphere calm down a little.

--------------------------------

6th January, 2021

I wake up in a room just like I described, just like I imagined. The boys were all looking at me, intimidatingly. They looked just like I had always imagined, like I had always seen them through my computer, yet I knew they weren’t happy with me at all.

“Don’t touch me or I’ll kill you” I say aggressively, getting ready to fight. “Calm down, we just want to talk” Kun says slowly. “Are you Sam?” He asks and I nod.

I felt the need to explain myself, my actions, my existence. I felt like I didn’t belong in there.

“I didn’t mean to trap you in here...I- I swear. I’m not even sure how I got in here”

I was so scared of them, but I felt like they were also scared of me, I just couldn’t control my stutter.

“She’s lying” Johnny says, looking away from me.

My brows furrow, forming an angry expression. Before I couldn’t control my fear, but now I couldn’t control my anger. This was not my fault, I was sure of that.

“Why would I get myself in here?” I say challenging the boy. “Because you want to do the things you write about with us” Johnny shouts, making me back up. “Shut the fuck up Johnny” Doyoung says, still looking at the floor, as he did since the beginning.

“What?!” I say laughing. “You didn’t get the password?” I tease the boys, who look at each other kind of surprised. I started walking down the stairs, walking my way to the front door, as the boys followed right behind. “Did she laugh?” Taeil asks, still kind of confused. “I think so, It might be an easy password” Yuta whispers to him.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” Kun asks me slowly. I try my best to calm down, breathing in and out slowly. “You mean the game?” I ask him and he looks to Ten and Taeyong, as if asking for an answer himself. “For now, we want to get out of the building” Taeyong says calmly.

My mind is full of different thoughts but somehow the fact that they didn't get the code correctly was so funny to me.

“Look. How many units are there in NCT?” I ask them and they look at each other again. “Four?” Taeil asks, breaking the silence. “I mean, like fixed. The ones that have a defined number of members… there are three right? 127, dream and wayv. Yours was really the easiest. You are the oldest members, so it was in between 127 and wayv. But most of you are from 127 so…”

“So it’s just 127” Ten says, hitting his forehead in disbelief. I nod and press the said numbers on the password pad. The door instantly opens, making a fool out of the boys. “So what about the rest?” Yuta asks, genuinely curious.

“Okay so dream and wayv are based on letters, but the passwords only allow numbers, so you have to convert them. Using a phone, you can see how every number has 3-4 letters assigned, so just like that, you type the word…” I start walking towards the Team 2 building, and stop at the front door. “So.. Wayv, should be 92999888” I say pressing the numbers and opening the door. The view from the inside is quite messy. The combination of Team 2 boys was really something… questionable.

“Didn’t you guys clean?” Doyoung asks with a disgusted expression on his face. “We were gonna, eventually” Hendery says from the inside, with a piece of bread in his mouth. “Who is she?” Mark asks from the distance pointing at me.

“We’ll explain to you later” Johnny says, hugging Mark as I keep walking towards the dream building. then I type 37773326 on the password pad. This time, as the door opens, a far more neat environment can be seen. That said, though, all the boys were eating junk food while playing games, on the main couch.

He follows my steps as I try to get away from him. “I need answers” He says calmly. “I’ll give answers to everyone, but as I said I don’t know everything about this” I say turning back to look at him again. “Tell them to meet me in the dining room… I’ll prepare some things”

I decided to let the boys talk as I went to the main dining room, waiting for them to clear things up. But I got so distracted in my mind that I didn’t notice how Doyoung followed me inside the main building.

He grabs my hand, stopping my steps, only when nobody could see us. “I know you from somewhere” He says looking deeply into my eyes. His gaze could have killed anyone within seconds, but I stayed strong. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” I simply say getting off of his hold.

But, even if I want to ignore his words, they get stucked in my head. Did I really know him? Apart from his idol image... Was there another relationship between us???

-------------------------------------------

Doyoung stays quiet for a while, looking at how Sam disappears in the infinite corridor to the dining room. His mind is still confused. He has seen her before for sure. He had to know when and how it happened.

He comes back to the boys tho, letting himself enjoy the cute reencounter moment. He tells everyone what Sam just told him and all of the boys went inside of the main building. When they arrived inside the main building they were all too amazed by how changed inside of it was to notice how Sam turned her back to them. That said, Ten and Renjun noticed the weird movements she made, but they didn’t really think it was important.

The dining room was like ten times bigger now, and the ceiling was so tall that they couldn’t even guess how many meters tall it was. The big table had a fancy vibe now, and the chairs also looked somehow expensive. A big chandelier was the cherry on top to everything. The tiny crystals reflected the white light of the light bulbs.

“How did you…?” Winwin asks and Sam simply chuckles. “Take a seat please. I’m Sam, you also may know me as the writer or the creator of this place. I don’t know how I ended up in here, nor how you guys got trapped in here. But I have the power of modifying and creating things inside this universe. You also have this power in different ways like the…”

“The rings” Jeno says looking at his finger. “Exactly, you can change the ring’s form for your own benefit, though it might be tiring and hard for you. You can also change your rooms and building decorations if you picture it on your mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we don’t care about that” Jungwoo starts speaking “How do we get out of here?” He finishes his sentence, finally allowing Sam to talk. “I’m still unsure, but I think it’s related to the points you receive when you complete the mi-”

“So we have to do a lot of missions to get out of here?” Chenle shouts, in disbelief. “Not exactly..” Sam tries to explain but Sungchan interrupts her “I’m not doing this” He says almost getting off his seat. But Sam was faster, as she shut the door, making a loud and scary sound with it. Everyone starts looking at her, amazed at her powers and her reaction.

“Let me explain first. Points aren’t what you guys think. You receive points according to how much the reader falls in love with you” They all look at each other, confused, not quite getting the concept. “The way you act provokes a reaction in the readers, comments, likes or even just their reaction on the fic count as points. And these points are how you get out...I guess” Sam finishes her explanation, relaxing her shoulders now that everyone is more calmed down. “And how will you get out of here?” Doyoung says with a deep and concerned voice. Sam looks at him, confused at his question but also kind of frustrated. “That’s my problem”.

Everyone starts discussing the different topics the new info bringed up. Sam simply starts walking towards the door and disappears in the dark corridors. Nobody is able to notice, at first, though within minutes Mark noticed her absence. When he walked outside, looking for the stranger, he found her sitting down on the floor, eyes closed and head looking down. In front of her, a huge new building was getting built, well at least until she opened her eyes, noticing an unwanted presence. The whole building disappeared like that, not letting a single brick behind.

“I didn’t hear you coming” She says getting up, looking at the boy’s confused eyes. “Your nose…” He points out and she simply wipes off the blood coming from it. “I got beaten up on the mission, don’t worry for me” Her voice sounds kind of exhausted, but she smiles at the boy anyways, in a failed attempt of fooling him.

Another presence breaks the atmosphere though. Johnny’s big arms lead her body, pulling her by the wrist. He leads her to a more private spot and starts talking. “We need to talk. What you’re doing is not fun, and it’s not good for us. This game you created, needs to stop” He says threatening the shocked girl. But none of the words he says get into Sam’s head, as her lids start shutting down and her nosebleed gets heavier.

Johnny’s hands shake as he holds her, shocked and confused as to what happened. His mind is full of regrets and concerns now. “Hey Sam, Sam…” He tries to wake her up, now lying her body on the floor, letting it rest. “GUYS” He shouts, and everyone around runs towards him. “You’re gonna get well, I promise… Fuck… GUYS, HURRY UP” His shouts sound like a father who’s about to lose a child, that level of desperation can be heard in his broken and raspy voice.

--------------------------------------------------

7th January, 2021

I woke up in a different room this time, completely lonely, or so I thought. By the decoration I guessed it was from the dreamies building. I sit down on the bed’s edge and put my head in between my hands. “You are already awake?” A voice said in the distance and I was able to recognize his tone from miles away.

“Haechan…” My voice sounds like a whine, wishing with all my might it wasn’t him. “Hey, you should thank me, I was the only one who wanted to stay awake at this late hour” He says, not looking away from his noisy game. “Well, whatever, have a good night” I say, trying to leave the room but his hand stops me.

“You can’t go, you’re still not feeling well” He says with a concerned look on his eyes. “I’m fine” I let out with an exhausted tone, but just when I’m about to go, his arms trap my whole body on a back hug. “You need to stay here” He whispers and I simply sigh. “Turn that thing off then” I say, giving up.

He obeys, not wanting to fight for longer. “Okay so… I’ll sleep on the floor” He says looking at the floor, his cute offer makes me chuckle. The spacious room lets me imagine another big bed far enough from the initial one, making it appear right after, just where I pictured it to be.

“You can sleep there” I say, pointing at the new bed, and getting back inside the bed I was previously on. “But this was my bed” He coos. “I already slept in here for hours, why does it matter?” I say turning my back to the boy, who smirks, knowing I couldn’t see him. “Do you wanna know what I did on this bed?” He whispers and that’s enough to make me jump out of it. “EW” I simply comment on the boy’s little teasy chuckles.

Night passed fast enough, though my mind couldn’t rest from thinking how to get out of the game or how I got in in the first place. It had to be with Taeyong’s night, for sure. Maybe the idea of introducing myself into this fics wasn’t the best one after all. But it gave it a different kind of vibe right?... I don’t know, at this point… I just wanted to come back.

“Are you gonna sleep forever?” Hyuck’s voice really gets me on my nerves. “You know… I still control who goes into the missions, It would be a pity to make you suffer somehow....” My teasy tone makes him chuckle. “That’s a lie, You’re just doing requests now, so it depends on the reader” He’s so sure about his words that it is almost concerning. “How did you…?” My voice on the other hand, is confused and insecure.

“I guessed your password, have been reading everything” My eyes widen at his comment. “Everything?!!!” I say sitting down on the bed. “That’s right, I’ve seen your post simping over my photos… You could’ve just told me. And you even dreamt of me so...” He says trying a seductive voice, but completely failing at it. “EW” I shout as I get out of the bedroom. As soon as I step out, Yangyang collapses with me.

The boy was holding a bag of chips on his hand and he had a single chip inside of his mouth. I widen my eyes and apologize to him. “I didn’t know you were awake” He says after eating the chip in his mouth. “Weren’t you supposed to tell us Haechan?” The boy shouts to Donghyuck, who acts like he hadn’t heard it. “Anyways, it’s nice seeing you’re fine” The boy says with a smile. “You should talk with Johnny though, he’s kind of… down” His words vanish as his figure disappears downstairs.

I follow him and get out of the building. Just on the front door, Johnny’s concerned figure walks in circles. When I get out, the boy looks at me right away. “You’re awake, thank god” He says, hugging me. “Umm…” It’s all I can say from his tight hold. “What the hell happened?” He says getting off the hug and looking right into my eyes. My eyes try to avoid eye contact as his gaze was just too intimidating. “I don’t know” I say looking down.

“You’re scaring her” Ten says from the distance. “I’ll talk with her” He says, getting closer. Johnny is still confused “Did I scare you? How am I scary?” He says to me and I chuckle. “You’re not scary, just slightly intimidating” My hand taps his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Ten finally gets closer, taking my holding my arm with his hand and we both walk together into the distance.

“I think it’s your powers” He simply says looking straight up. “I’m fine, I was just overworked. When I overwork myself my nose bleeds, it’s not about my powers” I say looking at him and smiling. “Well, now you gotta take care of yourself. Our lives also depend on yours. We can’t get out of here without you. That’s pretty obvious” His concerned tone makes me realize just how serious the situation is. “I’ll try my best to get you all out of here. I promise” My body stops and I lend him my hand, shaking his as in a promise.

The boy smiles, shaking my hand too. “We need to talk about a couple of things still” I say in a more serious tone and he simply nods.

-----------------------------------------------------

The dining room is full once again, everyone sitting on their usual chairs. Sam’s chair floats in the air, standing higher than the rest. Everyone is looking at her, still amazed by her abilities in that world.

“Okay, First of all, I’m gonna show you how to use your rings to your own advantage. I have this ring of my own” She says getting her golden ring off. The ring is simple yet a heart decorates it. She takes the ring inside her hand and throws it into the air. The ring spins in the air, turning into a phone that she catches right away.

“You need to picture something that you may need, this way, you’ll have it easier on dangerous scenarios, like the one Taeyong and I went to” She shows the phone to everyone, the tiny heart was still present on the phone, being the shape of both cameras. “And if you do it again, it can turn into another thing like…” She throws the phone into the air, making it turn again, this time turning into a sword that she grabs easily.

“You have to be careful with these, and never. I repeat NEVER, hurt another member, we don’t know what happens if someone dies in here” Her tone is quite serious, and her actions are still confusing to everyone. That said, Yuta, whose ring already got turned into a necklace, finally gets it to turn into a pair of green earrings which he shows to everyone.

“Look” He says happily and Sam smiles from her place. “You got it” She says as her chair slowly gets into the ground again. “Now, we need to talk about where I should sleep at least for a couple of days. I tried to make a building for myself, but I’m just too exhausted right now” She explains and the boys nod in understanding.

“She’s already sleeping in my bedroom, we should keep it that way” Haechan says, starting the discussion. “Your building is the one with more people, she should come with us” Lucas replies to him. “With you, the messy team, I don’t think she wants that” Taeil says teasingly.

“We are not that messy” Xiaojun clears out slightly offended. “She should come with us anyways, we are the most responsible team” Kun says to him. “Why does that matter?” Xiaojun replies, even more offended this time. “Hey guys, shotaro wants to speak, let him say something” Sungchan says tapping the shy boy’s shoulder so that he would start talking. “She’s our age, we... should.... be..... together” He says shyly and everyone goes crazy, discussing different topics and which dorm was the best.

“Can we just let her choose?” Doyoung says, already tired with the pointless discussion. “T-Thanks” Sam says, after she had to hear the whole discussion. “It would be just for a couple of days, and I already made a bed into Haechan’s room, and, as much as I hate his presence, I feel like it’s the best option. If anyone wants to change rooms with him, that’s your decision, I truly don’t care about it” She says standing up and leaving the big room.

Everyone stays silent for a while, but then they start arguing about who should sleep in Haechan’s bed.

--------------------------------------

7th January, 2021 - 8th January, 2021

My mind tries its best to turn the ring into a laptop and, after a few minutes, I finally get it. The laptop is a nice shade of white, with golden strides along it, and in the back, a cute golden heart can be seen. I smile, as I’m finally able to rest and simply write whatever comes next.

I put on strawberries and cigarettes and start writing the fic for 🔮 anon. Until a hand poses on my shoulder, I turn back and look into Taeyong’s concerned eyes.

“Is she alive?” He says slowly. I smile lightly trying to comfort him. “Look here” I say pointing at the screen. “It says to be continued. If there’s another part, she’s not dead” A smile appears on his face for the first time since he got out of the fic.

“That doesn’t mean she’s not in danger though. But we’ll figure it out” I say calmly. “As I’m also inside this fic, I’m not the one writing it” He looks at me confused “Then who….”

“That’s what I’m trying to guess” I say looking back at the screen “Can you tell Ten to come here whenever he can please?” He nods and disappears out of the room. But I don’t get much time alone as Donghyuck enters the room tapping my shoulder so that I would look at him.

“What do you want?” I say slightly irritated. “You said you hate my presence and now we are rotating on who sleeps in here” He says with a sad tone. “So what?” I say turning my back to him and resuming my work. “Why would you say that. I know deep down you enjoy my company too”

“The problem is” I start saying “that is soooooooo deep down” I say looking at him for a second with a smile drawn in my face. “Oh come oooon” He whines out but Ten’s steps into the room stop him. “Did you call me?” He simply says supporting his figure on the door frame. “Yes, please, sit somewhere. Haechan get out, this is private”

The boy pouts before leaving the room and Ten sits on a chair next to me. “Look, I got this request, well it was more of like a story that happened to this girl. It is really sad and I just wanted you to know that you should be extra soft with her. I know we’re in a stressful situation, but she needs this” I say, my voice cracking at the middle of the sentence. “Just try your best please” I say looking down, controlling tears from falling down my cheeks.

“Hey, I promise” He says, lending me his hand, so that I would shake it, just like we did before. “We’ll get out of here together” He says smiling and I simply nod at him. He stands up after a minute and steps out of the room. “It’ll be ready for tomorrow, so prepare yourself” I shout and he replies with a “YES” I got some minutes alone, yet again, being alone in a world with that many people wasn’t easy.

Renjun enters the room and sits on Haechan’s bed, while eating some kind of sugary snacks. “Do you want some?” He says lending me the bag he was holding. “No thanks, I can’t eat those” I say with a smile. “You can’t eat them?” He says, widening his eyes, I simply shake my head. “I'm intolerant to a lot of stuff, so I really shouldn’t, plus sweet stuff isn’t really my thing” I say and he lays back on the bed, humming.

“I’m intolerant to Haechan so I get what you say” The boy says and I chuckle loudly. “He really is something else” I say in between laughs. “I’m sorry that you have to share a room with him. Or really with any of us, It might be really uncomfortable” Renjun says looking at the ceiling, getting lost in his words. “It won’t be for long. And I think it’s worse for you guys than for me. I mean… It was my fault that you had to be in here and you’ve all been nice to me. I feel like I don’t deserve that.

Renjun sits down, now looking at me as I talk. “I don’t know about the rest. But I’m happy that you’re here. At least we have something to do in between missions” He says and I look at him confused. “Something to do?” I ask blushing. “Yeah, like getting to know you” He says and I hide my face out of embarrassment. “What did you think I meant?” He shouts in shock. “I don’t know” I reply laughing.

My eyes return to the screen, as I continue writing, after a conversation with Renjun, he gets out of the room. I keep writing and writing, getting some extra fics done, so that I have more time for other stuff later. I check out the clock at the bottom of the screen and my eyes widen at the view [3:30 AM] “Fuck” I whisper before someone knocks at the door. “Yes” I say and the person enters the room. Doyoung’s figure appears calmly and slowly. “We decided to take turns to sleep with you” He explains softly.

“Yeah, Haechan told me about it. That’s his bed” I say smiling, my voice is almost a whisper so soft, so calmed. He simply nods, sitting on the said bed. “You should go to sleep too” He says softly and I nod. Even if I wanted to disagree, I knew I should rest and sleep so I obeyed, getting up and walking towards my bed.

“Do you think we’ll get out of here?” He says, looking down. “I hope y’all get out of here someday” I say looking up as I layed on the bed. “What if we don’t want to?” He says laying on his bed too. “Why wouldn’t you want to?” I say curiously. “This place is nice, we get to rest… I don’t know… I like this” He says sighing. “Well, we can talk about it tomorrow, we should go to sleep” He says and I nod, laying on one side, facing the wall.

----------------------------------------------

A high-pitched scream and heavy breaths wake Doyoung up. He looks to both sides, confused as to what is happening, until he sees Sam’s figure. Her chest was rising with every deep and fast breath, her forehead was really sweaty and her eyes teary.

“Sam, are you okay?” He says slowly getting closer to her, but she doesn’t answer. Once he sits on the girl’s bed, she hugs him tightly, crying on his shoulder. “I had a nightmare” She says in between cries. Doyoung smiles lightly, appreciating her cute nature, yet worried about her state. “Do you need something?” He says tapping her back.

“Can you…” She tries to say something but stops herself, as if she was too afraid of speaking her mind. “Tell me” He whispers in her ear. “I need to hug something when I sleep…” She says cutely and he chuckles. “Do you want me to sleep with you?” He says pulling off the hug and looking at her right into her eyes. She blushes and says “N-not in like- Nothing weird... Just sleep” She stutters and he smiles nodding. “Just sleeping”

His body lays right next to hers, letting her arms hug his waist. She quickly falls asleep again, which lets the boy calm down for a while.

--------------------------------------------

8th January, 2021

“Oh My God. We agreed on this” Haechan’s voice gets me up, as I slowly open my eyelids. Doyoung was already standing up, leaving my arms empty. My cheeks blush as I remember what happened last night. “Nobody was allowed to do that and you know it” His screaming voice really gets into my brain. “For the last time, WE DID NOT HAVE SEX” Doyoung screams back at him.

I get up and look at Haechan, asking for answers. “Was that the reason for your scream last night? What did he do to you?” He says worriedly. “I had a nightmare LEE DONGHYUCK. And I needed someone to hug. He was just nice to me god” I say, already exhausted at the situation. “You had a nightmare?” He says worried. “Are you okay now?” I look at him, tiredly. “I’m fine” I say, tapping his head.

“Also what the fuck was the “we agreed on this” about?” I say tilting my head and the boy simply disappears out of the room. My eyes turn to Doyoung who also leaves the room and says “Good luck on your work” before he completely disappears. I sigh, already tired of being surrounded by 23 guys.

But I’m not able to think for much longer as blood starts coming out of my nose again. “I didn’t even write anything yet” I think to myself, still unsure of what these bleedings were about. I still don't know what it is, but it’s definitely something that concerns me. I’ve never gotten that many nosebleeds in my life. But whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out on my own.

......................................................................................................Sam.

Mission 1 for the readers: Popularity test. Vote for your favourite member and he will get special gifts and benefits.

Masterlist –requests open– How to request? Check out your score.

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

End of the Day (Crystal x Gigi) - Ashley

A/N: The plan was simple. All Crystal had to do was pretend to be her twin for one week: sit silently in seminars, only leave her room for her basic necessities and stick closely to the set of rules she was left with. Only the rule that stated she “mustn’t bother the bitch from downstairs” became a lot harder for Crystal to follow once she had laid eyes on Gigi Goode.

Hope you guys like this!! Think of it as Breakfast at Tiffany’s meets She’s the Man only at a Russell Group where there’s a stereotype around every corner. Sending infinite thank you’s to Meggie for being a fab beta. p.s thanks so much for all the lovely feedback for Everything Has Changed (I could have cried reading some of it)…xoxo Ashley.

“No way.” Crystal dropped the pencil she toyed with, a laugh squeaking out of her throat at her sister’s audacity.

“It’s only a week,” she pleaded over the phone, the voice that had convinced Crystal to do stupid things since they were children making its reappearance.

“You seriously want me to pretend to be you just so you can jet off to Majorca to see that creep?”

“Yes!” Elle ignored Crystal’s clear disdain. “That is exactly what I want. We used to do it all the time in school.”

“You’re crazy, actually insane.”

Crystal was used to her sister’s wild antics, but this plot may have been a step too far.

“But you love me.”

“I hate you.”

“It’s not like you have any plans.” Elle held no hesitation in poking the bear - the boundaries between the two twins almost non-existent.

“I have Depop orders actually,” Crystal snapped back, a tiny part of resentment that her sister was attending one of the best universities in the country whilst she was sitting at home making jewellery rising inside of her body but not quite breaking the surface.

“£200.”

Crystal stopped in her tracks - now she was listening.

“It won’t work anyway, people will notice!”

“They won’t. I don’t speak to anyone in my college anyway and my course friends won’t say anything, just stay in bed all day once you’ve been to my seminars. I’ll even give you my Disney+ password.”

A hint of worry rose in Crystal’s mind; she wondered how her more outgoing other half had managed to go to university and not make friends in her accommodation. Where Crystal was shy and nervous throughout the entirety of her education, Elle had never been afraid to put herself out there, always surrounded by one group of pretty girls or another. “So what am I supposed to do in these seminars then? It’s not like I have an extensive knowledge of anthropology is it?”

“All you have to do is sign in and sit there pretending to type - they don’t even pick on you I swear. And it’s the last week before we break up so everyone will be really chill.”

“£300,” Crystal responded, the idea of escaping the four walls of her bedroom whilst making three months of her usual income beginning to tempt her, cursing internally at how easily convinced she was.

“I can’t give you £300.” Crystal could hear that her sister was talking through a grin despite not being able to see her face, the grin that meant she’d won.

“Well, you can’t go to Majorca then.”

“Three hundred pounds it is,” Elle agreed. “But you better get me a decent Christmas present.”

“Deal,” Crystal responded, knowing she had already purchased her sister’s gift two months prior. “Now, tell me absolutely everything I need to know about collegiate life.”

“It’s a good job. I knew you’d say yes and already planned this part out.” Elle beamed, proud at her ability to convince her timid younger-by-ten-minutes sister to do almost anything.

***

If secondary school was supposed to be a jungle of cliques, then Elle’s college may as well have been the Amazon rainforest.

Walking through the incredibly hard to find dining hall for breakfast, Crystal could make out almost every university stereotype she could think of, each confined to their own special hold.

From the druggies to the athletes, to the Oxbridge rejects, to the girls who borrowed daddy’s credit card - they were all there and thriving. A small part of Crystal wanted to go and sit with who she decided were the artsy girls despite knowing her sister wouldn’t be caught dead doing so.

Trying not to draw attention to herself, she kept her head down as she made it to the front of the queue, Elle’s clear step-by-step of how she approached meals playing through her head on repeat, the weeks of planning for this moment all coming into play.

Only at that moment, she panicked, the child’s paint by numbers that were her instructions started to turn into a set of IKEA diagrams without captions in her brain. Wishing she’d stuck to eating a pot noodle in her sister’s room, Crystal’s body froze in a state of fear after dolloping a ladle of baked beans onto her toast. A tonne (or maybe ten tonnes) of bricks smacked her right between the eyes. She knew she wouldn’t be able to pull this off. The lack of self-confidence she always battled with ran thick through her veins, her thoughts turning to ways she could go home and return to the comfort of her hometown, willing to sacrifice her sister’s already flagged attendance and the three hundred pounds to be watching Bake Off with her mam in the kitchen.

It almost happened in slow motion, time losing its speed as the boy behind her walked into Crystal’s back, propelling her tray forward onto an unsuspecting blonde. An unsuspecting blonde who seemed the opposite of dumb.

“What the fuck?” She snapped her head around to Crystal, thick brows furrowed and pink lips pursed.

“I’m sorr-” Crystal started, beating herself up internally at how she had managed to do the exact opposite of laying low despite being only one night into her weeklong mission.

“This won’t come out!” The girl started turning her neck frantically to the back of her shirt, the white satin stained bright orange.

Her mouth opening but no words coming out, Crystal didn’t have a chance to apologise again before the girl had a swarm of minions dabbing her back with tissues.

“It’ll be okay, G.” One of them took her hand. Crystal wanted to burst out in tears like she usually did at the smallest sign of conflict, pinching the skin on the back of her hand and looking at the white ceiling lights to stop herself.

“So long as people look where they’re going.” The girl, G, cast a terrifying yet beautiful scowl in Crystal’s direction before sauntering away.

So much for laying low, she sighed before leaving the queue herself, her body tingling as if she’d hit her funny bone over a dozen times. The girl’s stare still imprinted in the back of her eyes.

Having narrowly avoided a panic attack, Crystal thought hard about her old coping mechanisms and tried her best to remain positive as she did after these situations, sitting down at an empty table and giving herself a pat on the back that she had at least passed as Elle without any doubts, ready to take the rest of her day by storm (also known as sitting in silence and occasionally nodding her head as a bunch of middle ages men discuss human evolution and diversity).

***

Having achieved three B grades by the end of sixth form and the award for ‘most creative’ in their final assembly, Crystal always thought of herself as somewhat intelligent and capable of living in the real world despite her decision not to go to university like her sister.

Yet there she stood, her face in a scowl and her fist in a ball, completely and utterly perplexed by the laundry system.

After sleeping in her sister’s dirty sheets the night before, she had arrived back to the college with hopes of resting her head on a pillow that wasn’t mascara stained and washing her face with a flannel sans toothpaste blobs (which was basic hygiene in Crystal’s opinion, but she hadn’t expected anything more from her twin). Only those dreams were temporarily dashed as she spent an entire thirty minutes pressing buttons and swiping the card Elle had left her manically against an aged machine.

Thirty-six internet searches and two desperate phone calls to her sister later, Crystal was beaming at the sheets swirling around, not a care in the world at how much of a psychopath she would look to anyone entering the room, the stress she had previously faced in getting the machine to work inducing her to stay and wait for the clothes to wash instead of leaving them like normal practice.

Elle had seemed happy on the phone, gushing to Crystal about how tanned she’d gotten in such a short space of time and how delicious all the food was - Crystal shutting her down quickly by reminding her that such a tan would only alert their mother to the fact she’d spent a week abroad visiting the sleazy holiday rep she’d fallen in love with that summer rather than in the brown-bricked, straight from a horror movie, sixties’ style complex that Crystal was currently residing in.

Crystal made a mental note to text her mam later and tell her how much she was enjoying her time “visiting her sister” - knowing fine well that talking to her on the phone would probably cause her to crumble and confess their scheme.

She had always been a family orientated person, always choosing a night in the house watching movies over playing out with friends, crying buckets the day her sister moved out and started a new chapter of her life without her. It was clear her mother wanted her to get out into the world, knowing she was capable of more than selling jewellery online, but unlike her sister, Crystal wasn’t quite ready to leave her home yet, needing that extra push to get her feet moving that just hadn’t come her way yet.

She figured that spending a week pretending to be her sister may actually be a good start.

Lost away with her head in the clouds like usual, Crystal was snapped back to surface level as her phone chimed to signal the end of the cycle, only to find herself even more frustrated when she realised that no dryers were free.

Today really hadn’t been her day.

She personally blamed the lack of lucky necklace around her neck (Elle telling her specifically during their planning stages that she would never wear such a monstrosity and Crystal following suit despite knowing it was only entrenched in their rules because her sister thought it was ugly). Her secret superstitious side kicking in, she thanked herself for bringing some of her jewellery making gadgets with her, figuring she’d have to make her own version of it, for now, it wasn’t as if she had any better way to spend her evening.

Seeing a dryer with two minutes left until it timed out, Crystal figured she’d simply wait until it had been emptied to use it, allowing her brain to return back to Pinterest for a short period of time.

But ten minutes passed and no one came to empty the machine.

She glanced at the other piles of clothes that lay on top of the machines, figuring it was normal to remove other people’s when none were free, the thought of her sheets staying wet and crinkled making her feel uneasy.

Opening the dryer, she was hit immediately by a waft of lavender, reassuring herself that it was okay to move the clothes and feeling almost proud of herself for making a leap the old Crystal would have ran from in fear of awkwardness.

Being her most careful, she picked the clothes one by one and started to fold them, her brain subconsciously admiring the mystery tartan-wearer’s sense of fashion and wishing she had the confidence to wear some of the outfits. That was when her hands met a satin blouse, a familiar satin blouse with an orange tinge on its white back.

Before she had time to process that the clothes she was moving belonged to the pretty girl from breakfast, Crystal’s train of thought was interrupted by the devil herself.

“Admiring your handiwork?” She strutted over and snatched the shirt back from Crystal’s hands.

Crystal couldn’t quite place her accent but she knew it was Southern. Her overactive imagination hearing the girl whisper dirty thoughts to her in that posh voice without being able to stop herself.

Oh, fuck.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal turned to her, not even attempting to act like anything other than the soft wimp she was inside. “I didn’t mean to.”

Crystal looked into the girl’s eyes, almost seeing her melt a little before her.

She felt the tension between them, dense and heavy in the air.

“It’s fine,” the blonde responded, losing the passive-aggressive tone she’d carried beforehand but still not sounding entirely sincere as she began to throw her clothes into her hamper.

Crystal couldn’t help but gawk a little as she began to strut away, her body swishing like a model’s as she made her way out of the room, pausing for a second at the door.

“Can you do me a favour, though?” the girl called back to Crystal.

‘I think I’d give both of my kidneys to you’ Crystal thought. Only it instead came out as an awkwardly stuttered, “Erm, sure.”

“Turn your music down, please.” She shot a sarcastic smile in Crystal’s direction. Crystal felt it burrow straight through her chest cavity and into her fast-beating heart. “I know that anthropology may be a bit simpler than most degrees, but some of us really struggle to work when all they can hear is your shit music directly above them.”

Her mouth dropping open to catch flies as the girl left the room for good, a pang of realisation hit Crystal.

Opening her phone and flicking through the dramatic guide to her sister’s university life that was now saved at the top of her notes, she found what she’d been looking for:

“12. DO NOT, under any circumstances, bother the bitch downstairs.”

Too late, Crystal thought to herself, wondering how many more of her sister’s rules she would have broken by the end of the week.

***

Crystal would be lying if she said she hadn’t been watching out for the blonde that week, whose name she had figured out (after an intensive Facebook stalking session) to be Gigi.

Yes, she was lying low, not leaving Elle’s room other than for seminars and to eat - but that didn’t stop her from taking stolen glances at the girl across the dining hall or walking up that second flight of stairs to the room just a fraction slower than she did the first flight.

Three days at university and she’d somehow turned back into a fourteen-year-old girl fantasising about the most popular girl in the class.

Except this time, the popular girl didn’t even know her real name.

She felt like Tracy from Hairspray - one look and she could hear the wedding bells playing in the back of her head.

But at the same time, Crystal knew what was at stake - leaving their interactions to intense eye contact and mumbled “excuse mes,” knowing that even speaking to Gigi again could blow her entire cover.

Yet, she somehow managed to do exactly that on Wednesday night. Or, technically, the early hours of Thursday morning.

At first, Crystal tried to ignore the argument below her, drowning out their voices with her headphones (partly because she felt like she was intruding and partly because listening to people screaming at each other, like a lot of things, made her cry). However, as the war below was still awaiting a cease-fire, snippets of conversation slid their way into the room.

“Why do you have to do this on every night out?”

“I just want what’s best for you.”

“You don’t know what’s best for me.”

She could hear the pain in Gigi’s voice heighten right before her door slammed, Crystal wincing in bed at the sound.

Expecting to hear male footsteps stomp away, Crystal was surprised to instead hear lighter ones, making their way up the stairs and past her landing, a muffled sob travelling through her door.

Looking out of the window, she squinted in the dark until she saw the red glow of a cigarette from their fire escape, the hum of an unfamiliar tune making its way through the thin walls.

She knew it was a risk, but it was one that Crystal couldn’t help but take when she thought of the beautiful girl from the laundry room freezing in the cold.

Grabbing her sister’s spare dressing gown, she made her way onto the landing, taking a deep breath before going out onto the fire escape.

Logic and speech pushed to the back part of her mind, Crystal simply made her way over to the other girl and sat down beside her, placing the dressing gown over her slim shoulders.

Even in the dark, she could see how perfect Gigi was.

The mole on the side of her cheek.

The soft pout on her lips.

Despite the mascara smudged down her face and her eyes stinging red, Crystal thought she looked like an angel.

“Hi,” Gigi spoke to her, dropping the cigarette she smoked on the floor and pressing it out with her trainers.

“Hi,” Crystal spoke back, unsure of what to say to the girl, blood rushing through her at a rate of knots, nervous filling her body and bursting through her head like she was some sort of human kettle.

“I guess you know what I mean about the music now.”

“Yeah.” Crystal nodded in the dark. “It’s noted.”

“I’m sorry about Karl…” Gigi trailed off, taking some time before speaking again. “He just gets like that sometimes when he’s had a drink. I know he doesn’t mean it. I guess you know that.”

Unsure of who Karl was, or why she was supposed to know that, Crystal began to feel like she was drowning. Only instead of jumping on the next lifeboat, she swam down deeper for Gigi.

A part of her was afraid, afraid she’d read the aura surrounding the other girl so wrong, afraid that Karl was her boyfriend.

“Mmhmm,” Crystal responded, maybe a bit more high pitched than she naturally would have.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend. But sometimes a part of me thinks that he just doesn’t have any idea who I really am if you get me.”

Crystal couldn’t have understood any better at that moment.

All she wanted to do was tell her. To tell her how hard it was when everyone expected you to be the same as another person. How awful it felt when they never knew the real you, only a shell of the more outgoing sister.

Only she couldn’t, so she did the next best thing and placed her hand on the girl’s forearm, instantly getting a shock at how cold she felt.

“Do you wanna go inside? We can make hot chocolate,” she suggested, noting how Gigi’s body relaxed under her touch.

“He’s still in my room.” Gigi rolled her eyes. “I just can’t deal with him right now, it needs to be left for the morning.”

“You can stay in mine,” Crystal asked, squeezing her grip ever so slightly.

What was she doing?

This wasn’t part of the plan.

And it was certainly breaking some of the rules.

Potentially all of them combined.

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

But nothing filled her with greater relief then when Gigi finally responded: “If you don’t mind, thank you.”

***

At first, she felt awkward as she let Gigi into the room, especially considering the fact it wasn’t hers. But after two hot chocolates each she had felt the most comfortable and at peace as she had since masquerading as her sister.

She watched as Gigi’s eyes made their way around the room, a kid in a sweetie shop, gawking at the treasures around her.

“What’s that?” she spoke between sips, pointing towards Crystal’s craft box that had been haphazardly set up on her sister’s desk.

“Oh.” Crystal went to pick it up, a flutter of warmth rushing through her at the thought of someone, let alone Gigi, being interested in her jewellery. “Just some bits and bobs I make.”

“These are so cool.” Gigi held a pair of scarlet earrings up and examined them closer, her mouth opening slightly as she focused. “Like the ones you had in the other day.”

Crystal’s face turned a deeper red than the earrings, the thought of Gigi remembering what she wore sending shivers down her spine - her head telling her heart on an auto loop that no matter what she thought about Gigi, all of Gigi’s returned thoughts were instead about Elle.

“Yeah,” she choked out, nipping her skin to bring herself back to reality.

“You should sell these!” Gigi gasped as she rooted through more of Crystal’s collection. “I sell the clothes I make on Depop, we’d make a great team.”

Crystal didn’t get a chance to respond. She was too busy picking the pieces of her exploding heart from the carpet and trying to put it back together again.

“In fact.” Gigi grabbed her phone and began to search.

Crystal decided that her thinking face was even cuter than her regular face.

She was in deep. Too deep.

“I think I follow an account that does stuff like this, let me think, something to do with crystals…”

Way, way too deep.

“I’m feeling a bit tired.” Crystal blurted awkwardly, getting mad at her mother for never placing her in acting lessons as a child, ready for the inevitable week that she’d have to pretend to be her twin sister or else she’d be kicked out of university and murdered by their family. Seeing the almost defeated look on Gigi’s face, she tried again. “But you can show me in the morning?”

“I’d love that.” Gigi smiled.

Crystal wanted to rewind time just to hear that sentence again. She wouldn’t be too greedy, she’d only listen to it one more time. Two at a push.

Making sure to go into the en suite as Gigi got changed, Crystal returned to find her in bed, already asleep, her hair a sprawl of honey against the pink pillows.

She waited a second before turning off the light and getting into bed beside her, something about lying next Gigi sending Crystal into a sleepy haze despite the way her heart had been beating so fast just moments before.

She could hear Gigi breathing, snoring just a little, finding her own breathing starting to sync along.

Sleep was only minutes away from taking over her body when she heard it, the muffled cry coming from the other side of the bed.

“No.” She heard Gigi mumble as she tossed from one side to the other. “Don’t go.”

Crystal placed a reassuring hand on her arm without thought. “Are you alright?”

Gigi woke startled, her eyes beaming at Crystal like a young deer caught in the middle of the road.

“I’m fine.” She realised her surroundings and threw the quilt to one side, moving her body down to the bottom end of the bed. “I best be off.”

“Hey.” Crystal sat up, flicking the lamp on by her bedside. “It’s alright, we can-”

But before she could finish, Gigi was gone. Nothing more than the faint smell of lavender on the pillows and the dark ring of hot chocolate in the bottom of her sister’s mug.

***

Making her way back into the college that evening, Crystal waited by the entrance for a few moments, wondering if she could manage to get to Elle’s room without passing the drinks and shenanigans that were currently taking place in front of her, wondering if she could manage to make it without passing Gigi, more precisely.

Tesco carrier bags full to the brim of every comfort food she could gorge on (salami, cheese, salt and vinegar crisps and three different bars of dairy milk to be precise) as she watched her sister’s Disney+ alone, Crystal concluded that the coast was clear and made her way to the bottom of her stairs without passing Gigi.

The words of the note she had posted under Elle’s door the day beforehand were still dancing around Crystal’s mind like a puzzle that even Professor Layton couldn’t solve:

“Elle, please forgive me for this morning. I don’t know what happens when I get like that..we’re all having drinks at around 8 tomorrow if you wanna join? - Gigi.”

As much as she longed to join Gigi for a drink, Crystal knew that she couldn’t. She’d already put too much on the line, allowed herself to get too close, too emotionally invested. A short text from Elle asking if everything was okay scared her straight, there was too much at stake. Yes, she wanted more than anything to be the one who comforted Gigi the next time she had a nightmare, to make jewellery for her and kiss her forehead whenever she looked stressed. But family meant everything to her, and she knew if anyone were to find out what they’d done, the consequences wouldn’t be worth it.

About to make her way up the stairs, Crystal felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Let me help with those,” the boy motioned to her bags, his voice familiar.

With dark hair slicked back, and skin the colour of caramel, it took Crystal a second to realise where she knew the boy from, remembering his face next to Gigi’s in their corner of the dining hall.

“I’m fine, they’re not heavy.” Crystal tried to walk away but was stopped by his voice, yet again.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come help? It’s been a little while, Elle.” He grinned, a smirk in his eyes that Crystal couldn’t quite trace.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to catch up with you later,” Crystal responded, trying to remain calm on the outside as her insides reached peak panic mode, her brain mentally scanning her notes for anything mentioning this boy. Her search found no results.

“Oh I get it,” he laughed. “It’s one of your games. Sure, you wanna catch up later.”

That’s when the realisation hit Crystal. Her sister was having sex with this boy. And she completely failed to mention it.

Trying to think of something to say, a heavy silence lingered between them. Broken by a familiar tone that managed to scare her half to death and turn her on at the same time.

“Karl.” Gigi shook her head as she made her way down the staircase, carrying what looked like a sippy cup of vodka red bull in her hands. “Do you mind not trying to shag every girl in college for five seconds?”

“I’ll see you later, Elle.” He muttered before strutting away with Gigi, Crystal making out the word ‘cockblock’ in their hushed conversation as they left.

She knew that Elle didn’t tell her everything.

Just because they were twins they didn’t have to know every detail of each other’s lives, even though they spoke every day. Crystal always knew that. But a part of her heart stung at the thought of her sister not even telling her about a boy she was sleeping with. Is that how far apart they’d grown since Elle came to uni?

Fighting back tears, she made her way up the stairs and tried to call her sister. She knew she was being silly; a part of her had just thought she’d know when her sister was sleeping with someone. So many questions ran through her mind. Was Elle safe? Did she love him? Why didn’t anyone know?

She tried to call again, no answer.

Gigi must have known, Crystal figured - slotting together their interaction the night before with the one they’d just had. Is that why Elle didn’t like her? Why they weren’t friends? Why she’d told Crystal to avoid her?

She answered on the fifth call.

“Hey, babe, I really can’t talk right now.”

Crystal ignored her sister’s words, dropping her shopping outside the door and moving out onto the fire escape, the cold breeze hitting her face harshly.

“Who’s Karl?”

“Oh.” She heard her other half’s surprise, she could see the look on her face, high definition in Crystal’s mind. “I told you not to speak to people, for fuck sake, Crystal.”

“Who’s Karl?”

“I can’t speak about this now.” Her tone lowered, clearly someone else was in her company.

“Who’s Karl?” Crystal asked again, not even stopping to think about how dramatic she was being.

Only her sister had hung up before she could get an answer.

Crystal didn’t know how long she’d been out there when she heard the door open, she didn’t even know if she was still crying or not.

“Hi,” Gigi spoke, almost a whisper, as she approached her. “We gotta stop meeting like this, hey?”

Crystal watched Gigi’s face drop a little at the sight of her, looking hurt the second she got close enough to see her tears.

“Yeah, I-” Crystal started but was swiftly interrupted.

Normally in films, it happened after a moment.

The pair would talk, get deep about their issues, reach a comforting solution then sit for a moment in an all-knowing silence.

Then they’d look into each other’s eyes, letting them flicker down once or twice before meeting again, that lock not leaving until they were shut.

Next came the strand of hair, pushed away and tucked neatly behind the ear.

Finally, the kiss, slow at first then growing in passion.

Only Gigi had no patience.

It took Crystal a second to react, to realise what was happening, to press her lips back against Gigi’s, to race her hand through the other girl’s hair.

It was unexpected.

Yet it felt nothing but natural.

And right.

“I’m sorry.” Gigi pulled away, pausing to bite her tongue between her teeth, a nervous side of her appearing that Crystal had not yet seen. “I know that’s like the last thing you’re meant to do when someone’s upset but, I don’t know, you just looked so sad and-”

This time Crystal wasn’t going to let her finish.

She felt Gigi’s hands wipe the stray tears from her face before moving right down her body to her waist. Moving her body closer so she was almost straddling the other girl, Gigi pulled away for just a second to let out a breath.

Crystal moved her hands round to Gigi’s back, further and further down until she was granted a nod of permission, letting them slide over the silky fabric of her skirt.

Before Crystal knew it she was being pushed back to the ground, Gigi’s long and beautiful body towering over her, as she got to her knees and began to kiss Crystal all over.

Gently, methodically, slowly.

Crystal’s mind was carried away, far from reality and refusing to take away from the moment in front of her.

“I knew you wanted me.” She felt Gigi’s breath tickle her ear, sending hot flushes down her entire body, reaching her hands out to touch the other girl’s breasts.

“Fuck, Elle.” Gigi grinned, flicking a switch in Crystal’s body as she pushed herself backwards away from her touch.

She’d almost forgotten that part.

Looking at the other girl’s confused face, she was lost for words, pulling the strap of her vest top back in its place. She knew she couldn’t do it anymore, she couldn’t keep lying. She would have let Gigi sleep with her thinking that she was someone else. She’d become a monster. She had to tell the truth.

“What the fuck?” A voice came from the door behind them, Karl’s confused face flicking between the pair of them. “Is this a joke?”

“Shit,” Gigi muttered and stood up, but Crystal was frozen in place, her hands and feet turning numb with anxiety, the sky around them warping in time. “I can explain.”

Crystal watched as Gigi chased her friend back into the building, listening to her tell him she was sorry and she just got carried away. Listening to Karl ask if that was why she’d told him to stop sleeping with her. Listening to Gigi explain that it wasn’t it, that something had just changed recently. Listening to her life crumble around her.

And then she heard nothing at all.

Even when she knocked on Gigi’s door later that night, ready to give her the explanation she needed, Crystal heard nothing at all - eventually giving in and retreating to the cave of Elle’s room, with no plans to leave it until their train pulled in at the station.

***

Looking up at the hideous brown bricks in front of her, Elle Barge never thought she’d be so relieved to see the college in her life.

One day earlier than she was supposed to return, she hoped that Crystal would forgive her for withholding some of the stuff she’d been doing at university, thinking that they could have one fun night together before getting the train home the next day, giving at least a hint of truth to their family when they arrived back.

Besides, her holiday romance meet-up hadn’t exactly gone the way she had planned when she accidentally met up with his wife. Hence her early departure.

She figured she’d just have to chalk this one up to being a good story to tell, throwing away her sadness at the thought of having a best-selling novel about her awful love life someday.

Heck, she’d probably already have half of it written with just stories about Karl.

Walking up the stairs to her room, she rolled her eyes at the sight in front of her.

One thing she certainly had not missed was Gigi Goode braying on her door to tell her to turn her music down.

Surely, Crystal wasn’t irritating her, Elle thought to herself. The only music Crystal ever played was One Direction and she hardly blasted it.

“Ahem.” Elle coughed loudly enough for Crystal to hear from inside the room, praying she’d understand with her magic twin sense not to come out (also quickly texting her not to incase the magic twin sense failed them. Elle did not want a repeat of that time in year nine when Jackie Cox asked if they could read each other’s minds).

“Hey.” Gigi turned to face her, a strange look on her face that Elle couldn’t quite decode. Tension started to seep through the stained carpet and up the walls like lava.

“Hi?” Elle raised an eyebrow to her, more of a question than a greeting.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you before,” Gigi started, nodding her head as she got into the rhythm of her speech. “I was just scared and I didn’t know how to say it but I can now. Please just listen and wait ‘til I’m done, I have to explain.”

Minefields began exploding inside Elle’s brain.

She simply nodded.

“I’ve been fucked over in the past. And it still scares me today. You know the other night? That was it, I haven’t felt myself get close to anyone in a while. And I know it’s bad because of Karl and I’m a shitty friend to him but honestly, I think that this is something bigger than that, cause I’ve not felt it for a while. And I think you feel it too. Look, I’m really shit at this but something changed this week, I saw you in this light I’d never caught you in. I might sound mad but I think that I need you.”

Looking back at the girl in front of her with dismay, Elle spoke back the only three words that rang through her brain at that moment.

“What the fuck.”

And then her door opened, her sister’s face peeking out around the corner, clad in the same expression she used to have whenever she’d spilt juice on the carpet or smashed plate. Her hair matted and eyes puffy, Elle immediately moved to her side.

And then Gigi uttered the three words as well - only adding a “fucking” in there too for good measure.

Killing the silence that lingered for some time, Crystal spoke the fastest sentence Elle had ever heard all in one breath: “I’ve been pretending to be my sister so she could go get fucked by a Spanish guy.”

“Wow.” Elle looked back and forth between the pair, recognising a glint in her sister’s eyes that was certainly not there before.

Crystal prepared herself and walked up to Gigi, placing her hand on her arm. “I wanted to tell you so bad. I was going to but then Karl came and everything got messy. I know you probably can’t forgive me, but I saw that bigger thing too and I let myself get carried away in it.”

Gigi looked between the pair and raised a hand to her mouth, letting out a hearty laugh.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Elle pleaded, fear rising inside her.

Silence filled the landing again, the twins standing sheepishly as they gave time for Gigi to process.

“If I’m honest I think I’m less confused now.” Gigi turned to face Crystal and grinned, showing an emotion Elle didn’t think the Barbie doll was even capable of showing. “This makes a lot more sense.”

Elle watched as her sister grinned back, seeing the genuine happiness on her face and throwing away all thoughts about whether or not she’d get in trouble.

“I think I might just be able to forgive you.” Gigi looked her up and down, pouting her lips in a joking manner. “If you let me take you out so we can talk this through over dinner?”

“Yes,” Crystal responded without hesitation.

“But first, could you tell me your name?”

“Crystal.” Elle watched as her sister reached out and shook the other girl’s hand, proud of the growth in confidence she could see - happy to see the return of the happy-go-lucky Crystal who wasn’t too scared to try anything new that she knew as a child.

“Crystal,” Gigi repeated, smiling to herself. “So Crystal, do you go to uni or just hang around at other people’s?”

“Maybe next year.” Crystal smiled back a sense of optimism in her voice. “Are we going for this dinner or what?”

Although it took her a minute to take in what she’d seen, a strange feeling inside of her as she waved her sister goodbye for a date with her bitchy downstairs neighbour, Elle couldn’t help but think that her disaster vacation had all happened for a good reason. In fact, she found herself almost shedding a tear as she heard her sister laughing at something Gigi said on their way downstairs, figuring that she might just see more of her sister than usual next term (and being nothing but happy about it).

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi #angst #lesbian au #university au #end of the day #ashley #concrit welcome #submission #s12 #college au

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johannas-motivational-insults · 5 years ago

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Catradora are both tops and Catra is a dom, change my mind

(Actually, don’t change my mind. I’m not writing this to cause drama, I’m writing this because Catradora sexual discourse is frustrating me and I want basically a masterpost to link back to whenever I need to explain my apparently controversial views on this shit. Hopefully some other people will also find that it speaks to/for them and be able to use it for the same purpose. Please don’t troll me, I’m but a simple girl who needs to be understood. I am, however, totally open to respectful debate. :)

Okay, I’d like to take some time here to follow up on my previous posts about how Catra and Adora are both vers-tops and Catra is so not a sub. I feel a little silly writing a long meta about the sexual dynamics of a femslash ship in a cartoon aimed at kids and teens, but there’s reason for it. For some reason, lots of fics write one or both of them in ways that feel extremely out of character, perhaps to make them fit the mold for a particular kink or sexual trope. And people will write what “works” for them ugh, and I’m not kinkshaming on principle, but some of it feels extremely disrespectful to the characters. Particularly Catra, given her backstory and struggles so far in the series, and I find this rather troubling.

And unfortunately, some of these things that are written to fit some sexual trope have ended up entering the more general discourse and morphing the fanon interpretation of the characters into something urecognizable, something that would make the canon characters mad if they read it. That’s another big reason why I’m bothering to write all this.

Let’s start with a clarification: when I said Catradora are both tops, I meant they would fight each other for control of an encounter and that’s totally fine and we don’t need to make hard statements about who is the top because it comes naturally to both of them. But I didn’t mean they would necessarily want control for the same reasons or that they are interchangeable in the sack. IMO, Catra is a dominant vers-top and Adora is the definition of a service top (but also versatile if that’s what works for her partner). These may be unpopular opinions (honestly why?), but I am fully prepared to back them up. *cracks knuckles*

I’m going to explain my biggest point first and then put a bunch of additional thoughts under the cut. That point being we need to consider Catra and Adora’s relationships with power.

Here’s the thing. For Catra, power is safety, power is an accomplishment she is proud of. She has fought/longed her whole life to be taken seriously. She has always felt disrespected and like she lacked agency (both of which are true, actually), so feeling respected and in control is very important to her.

This is especially true of her relationship with Adora, as she feels like Adora has been controlling her for most of their lives and doesn’t respect her. She resents that Adora has been in the “power position” for ages and is actively trying to change that.

Didn’t anybody else see how she got off on those guards standing at attention as she walked by in 2x01, and how tickled she was standing on top of Dryl in 2x02, overlooking her troops taking it over? Catra gets off on power, why would she not also literally get off on it?

To Catra, giving up power would feel like a failure.

For Adora, power is a burden. Yes she is an absolute control freak, but that’s because she feels like she needs to control everything because if anything goes wrong it’s all her fault. Shadow Weaver instilled this idea in her when she was very young, the way she was groomed to be a leader in the Horde reinforced it, and now being She-Ra has made that feeling inescapable for her.

I’ve seen people use the “person who has a lot of power irl wants to give it up in the sack” concept to explain why they see Catra as a sub, but imo it works way better for Adora because she has always been saddled with power, even when she didn’t want it. I will get into this more under the cut, but we have seen Adora resenting and struggling with all her responsibilities on multiple occasions.

To Adora, giving up power would feel like a relief (once she got past the mental block of needing to control everything).

(This isn’t all to say that Catra would be running shit 100% of this time, I do actually think both are somewhat versatile in terms of top/bottom and dom/sub classification. I’m just making a hard case in this direction because I think they lean this way and because so many people seem weirdly convinced that Adora would 100% dominate Catra all the time and it’s weird and a little offensive.)

Now, let’s move on to my additional thoughts! The tl;dr of it all is: brattiness =/= submissiveness (quite the opposite, in fact), why the hell would an abuse survivor want to relive her trauma, this master/pet nonsense is racist af, Adora is not a starfish wtf, and Adora is a good little soldier who likes following orders.

(Plus new bonus content: Catra’s love and protection of Adora signals she’s a top, not just a dom.)

(A quick sidebar on semantics: I find the definition of “top” to be a little weird with wlw couples because we stole top/bottom from mlms but it doesn’t work the same way. We don’t always use strap-ons and when we do it’s not uncommon for both partners to use it on each other. So when I say top I might be referring to use of a strap-on or penetration in general, but more often I use it the way straight people do, literally referring to who is on top/who wants to be on top. [And for Catradora I really do think that’s both of them, though perhaps for somewhat different reasons.] Meanwhile, when I say dominant/submissive I mean who is running shit/in charge vs. who is pliable to their partner’s whims/willing to give up control. I don’t necessarily mean anything to do with BDSM, and I will say so if that is what I am referring to. So, hopefully the way I am using those two terms makes sense.)

Let’s start by clearing something up in regards to Catra: Brattiness does not equal submissiveness. This is a common misconception because yes, some submissive types will use brattiness to goad their partners into aggression. However, brattiness is first and foremost a defense mechanism. Brats are usually people who lack power and make up for it by acting out. It’s a way to feel like you have some power by resisting the unfavorable dynamic and/or causing the other person to lose control while you keep it together (causing a feeling of superiority/satisfaction that you caused that reaction). Why do you think so many youngest children are bratty? It’s the only way we can feel like anything but the omega of our family. Despite being about the same age, Catra basically feels like the younger sibling to the favored and overachieving Adora. Don’t you think she’d love to take her down a peg?

Yes, bratty behavior is meant to provoke a reaction, but it’s often an attempt to gain power, not lose it. Unfortunately, kinky stereotypes have caused this misconception that bratty characters must be subs looking to be dominated (and/or punished if into the BDSM stuff) or bottoms looking to be aggressively topped. Even if that is sometimes the case in the bedroom, we haven’t and will never see how Catradora interact in the bedroom, and people don’t always act the same in those situations as they do out in the world.

Sticking with Catra for now, I gotta say, anything that makes her a BDSM-type sub feels really problematic to me. Catra is an abuse survivor, and putting her in situations where she would be basically reliving her trauma (especially if they don’t take the care to establish the reasons for this behavior in a way that feels organic to the character) is extremely disrespectful. We’ve seen Shadow Weaver restrain Catra with magic and take control of her body, and it’s heavily implied by Catra’s behavior that Shadow Weaver has beaten her in the past. She is constantly struggling to get out from under Shadow Weaver’s thumb, why would she then want to go submit to someone else, especially in a way that would reenact this trauma? (Again, this is especially true of her relationship with Adora, considering that she feels like Adora has been dominating and controlling her for most of their lives and she heavily resents this dynamic.)

Then there’s all the racist implications of Catra in restraints, especially collars. First of all, cats usually hate collars and Catra in particular would hate it. She doesn’t want anyone to take control of her, Shadow Weaver’s done that enough for a lifetime. Then there’s the really gross implication that people want to domesticate Catra. Master/pet scenarios are a little fucked up when the “pet” character is a hybrid of a common house pet. Like, yikes. If you can do enough character work to make me believe she’d be into that, maybe we can talk. But, can’t anyone else see why this is kinda fucked up?

All this sub/bottom Catra stuff really makes no sense to me, and I can’t help but agree with the posts about how Catra is a top but the fandom likes to write her as a bottom because they ID with her and want She-Ra to top them. Like, Catra is her own character, not an empty vessel you get to mess with to self-insert into a sex scene with a buff goddess.

That being said, I do respect the power bottom Catra headcanon even if I don’t agree with it, if for no other reason than Adora is a total service top so her slotting into that role makes some amount of sense. My issue is more with the idea that Catra is inherently a total bottom (as opposed to her fitting in where she does with Adora) and with the dom/sub stuff in general. Because yeah, no.

Look, cats are like the least submissive creature on this planet, and Catra is one of the least submissive characters on the show. Adora, meanwhile, is basically a big puppy dog. If you have a dog and a cat together, which one ends up being submissive? Like, honestly.

On that note, let’s move on to Adora.

As I said above, Adora is the very definition of a service top. Adora is, as Catra said in 1x01, a people pleaser. She wants to please the people around her, both by making them happy and by making them proud/living up to their expectations. She’s also the type of person who tends to go for what she wants, tackle her problems head on. I honestly can’t imagine a situation where Adora would not be focused first and foremost on giving her partner pleasure, whether that means taking charge and fucking them with a strap-on or letting them ride her face until she suffocates. Or even if it means letting them have their way with her, as long as she can reciprocate and make them feel as good as they made her feel (hopefully better, because she’s super competitive).

Here, we run into another problem. I’ve seen Adora written multiple times as a melty starfish who lets Catra top her and doesn’t try very hard (if at all) to return the favor when Catra blows her mind. Maybe she whines a little about wanting to do stuff to Catra if she initially turns it down, but she doesn’t try to take control. Like, please. Do you seriously think Adora would stand for that shit? Canon Adora would get so huffy if Catra tried to turn it down, because Adora needs to prove her prowess and please the people closest to her. I’m not advocating for dubcon here or saying we should write that, just that based on Adora’s personality she would at least try. Adora is not a pillow princess, and certainly not a starfish. Like, that should be obvious.

However, I do see Adora as someone who could easily end up being more submissive in the bedroom. She wouldn’t necessarily be at first because she is so used to being in charge, but once she experienced that loss of control I think she would enjoy it. Here is where that “person who has a lot of power irl wants to give it up in the sack” idea comes back. I already went into this earlier, how power is a burden for her and letting someone else take charge would be a relief for her.

Fact is, this is already canon. Adora likes following orders. Madame Razz literally called her out in 1x03 for how she wants other people to tell her what to think and do. She was constantly striving to please Shadow Weaver, to carry out her orders and be a good soldier, and she never gave much thought to whether these were the right things to do until the truth smacked her in the face. She was happy to be promoted to Force Captain, but to me that read as her being pleased at the validation/recognition for her good work more than the power the promotion gave her (whereas for Catra, it was obviously both). When she moved to Bright Moon, she suddenly had this burning need to prove herself to Queen Angella. She craves approval from authority figures, and while Catra does too, Adora seems to have this very deep intrinsic need to be valued and appreciated for her service.

Like I said, a total service top. But she is a top. So is Catra. As I said in my first post about this, that is part of what’s fun about this ship. Let them playfully fight for control. We don’t have to assign these roles so rigidly, the only reason I’m making a hard case for dominant Catra is to counteract the common discourse/fanfic tropes for these two. Tbh I don’t even think they’d be very kinky, their lives are crazy enough and I think they’d just enjoy the comfort and intimacy and fun of vanilla-ish sex, once they got past all their hangups and reconciled. Catra likes her power, but once she got comfortable enough with Adora again she would be able to let go of that at times and I think it would be freeing for her.

Okay that’s about it for this ridiculous rant, but I hope I’ve given you all something to think about. Please try to consider the characters’ histories and personalities when writing sexy fanfic or remarking on the sexual power dynamics between these two. That stuff is so much better anyway when it actually feels true to the characters and shows respect for them.

ETA: I foolishly did not think to include this in the post initially, but Catra’s history of protecting and caring for Adora in the small ways that she can suggests she’s a top, not just a dom. It’s worth noting that she feels like a top-type personality forced into a role not suited for her, i.e. a role where she feels weak and dependent on her partner. I’m not gonna go into all the details here because this is a whole other meta I’ve written since, but you can find all that in this post. (I have since edited it into a PG version to address the non-nsfw aspects of what I was trying to say, but the original is still there.)

#top catra #top adora #service top adora #dom catra #sub adora #catradora #spop #fanfic tropes

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Chicago Sky

A Collab with @maerrybom

“Miss Thalia, may I have a word with you?”

Once the girl slashed her last training bot for the day, Lancelot gracefully strolled towards her whereas Thalia turned to face him as she lowered her sword to the side. She then wiped the sweat dripping by her brow with her wrist band, staring at the male with little interest.

“What is it?”

“You’ve been chosen as a volunteer to help a fellow freshman in need. They are currently lagging behind their studies and training due to undisclosed circumstances.” Lancelot explained, “You are the best and easiest option for this task. The student needs your help.”

Thalia frowned and silently judged the man with a grimace. She didn’t like the idea. Not one bit.

“Shouldn’t the seniors be tasked with this as they have more experience? I’m only a freshman and I don’t think our position would be any different from each other.” She commented.

“You are right, however…” Lancelot trailed off at first before looking at the girl with a smile. “You’ve been in this college for a little longer than they have. If I’m not wrong, you’re from Chicago, aren’t you? You’re a great match since you’re both from the same place and are close in age with you being two years older. The student has already been informed about you, so it would be best to see them today.”

Thalia’s frown deepened. Not only did she dislike the idea, but she also loathed it. She didn’t want to take care of a brat.

“I know this is quite sudden but please,” Lancelot pleaded. “Consider it well. I believe this would be beneficial for you too, Miss Thalia.”

As if.

Before Thalia left the training centre, Lancelot gave her further information on what she needed to do to help the student and provided her with their contact information. He didn’t expect her to start with studying or training on the first day, but at least get acquainted with each other.

Thalia also had a feeling about who this student may be, judging from the recent rumours going around campus. It must’ve been the same student that Lu was depressed over for a while. So, she’s alive after all?

So, she grumpily grabbed her phone and texted the girl: “Meet me at the library entrance after your last class. - Thalia.” No introduction. Just straight to the point.

“Thalia.” That was a cool name. Carli wished she’d been given that one.

Ever since the dragon attack, Carli’s training had grown ever more rigorous. Susie had started her at the shooting ranges. She was quite a bit more charitable to her, now that she realized she was actually competent and not just another Johann Chu superfan. It didn’t hurt that Carli stayed respectful and didn’t talk too much about the things he was doing for her.

Carli made her way to the library. She still didn’t like that place.

The red-head was already exhausted from training and definitely wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with someone right now. With the way Lancelot was urging her to leave the centre, Thalia didn’t have the time to have a break but at least she was able to shower quickly and change into her spare training clothes. Dropping her duffel bag onto a nearby bench, she then bent over with her arms outstretched to touch her toes and felt her shoulder ‘pop’, sighing in relief as she felt her tense muscles relax.

As Thalia stretched her limbs from tension, she felt someone’s presence coming closer from behind. Alarmingly, she quickly stood up straight as her red locks flipped backwards from the movement before facing the intruder.

Carli halted, taken aback. “Hi, uh… sorry.” Not realizing this was the person she was supposed to meet, she stepped around her and made as if to continue on her way to the library.

The girl pondered for a moment and turned around to look at the brunette, calling out to her and said: “Wait.”

Carli glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I have to meet someone for study and training…”

She was younger, svelte with dark skin, curling hair twisted up in a puffy bun.

Thalia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, trying to hide the frown that was forming on her features. Her steel coloured eyes quickly lingered over the girl’s features before staring right at her with an indifferent expression. She’s exactly the way she imagined the girl to be after hearing what Lu had told her before.

“I’m that someone.” Thalia admitted, looking away for a second before looking back at the girl. “My name is Thalia. I’ve been told I was supposed to help you?”

“Oh!” Carli smiled at her. “Sorry.” She was relieved they wouldn’t be in the library, at least not for the time being. Her serious expression and fiery locks reminded her a little of Nono, only with silver eyes. She was serious, but Lancelot sent her so she couldn’t be that bad. “Reporting for duty then!” She gave a mock salute.

“...Right.” That action caught her off guard, raising a fist to cover her mouth as she coughed, feeling a smile trying to creep through her unamused expression. “And your name? They haven’t told me much about you.”

“Oh, you can just call me Carli, if you don’t mind.” She was surprised that she hadn’t heard of her by now. She thought the Star of Cassell privileges were common knowledge. It was a relief to finally meet someone who might not judge her for what she did with the authority. “Nice to meet you.”

Thalia silently nodded before walking over to the bench to grab her belongings and attached her sword to her hip. She slung her bag over her shoulder before looking at Carli again and began walking past her, ready to leave the girl behind if she was too slow. “Let’s go.”

Carli hurried after her, eying the sword. She wasn’t used to people just open-carrying deadly

weapons. “So um… how long have you been here?” She asked, trying to make conversation.

“Long enough to be bored of this place.” She answered vaguely, not making any attempt to look at the girl and kept her gaze forward.

“Oh… Okay…” Why answer like that? She shook herself mentally. A lot of the kids here were emo, for a good reason. Carli didn’t view herself as particularly emotionally distraught but she felt compelled to take meds to even her mood and deal with the stress.

And that’s not to make mention of the persistent nightmares.

The Library loomed large in her vision, but her heart rate only rose a little bit from the memories of what happened before. Not nearly the paralyzing fear that struck her before. She followed Thalia inside.

As they both reached the entrance, Thalia pushed the door open and walked inside first. The library was her safe haven and she tended to hide in this place as not many students went here. The smell of history should’ve calmed her down, but the loud, aching ‘noise’ coming from behind her was getting on her nerves. Thalia stopped from her tracks and swiftly turned around to face Carli with a glare on her face.

Carli cringed. What did she do wrong? She took a step back, chewing her lip, not moving.

The red-head clicked her tongue in annoyance before sighing deeply, observing the girl’s body language. She couldn’t explain how her hearing was extra sharp and Carli’s heartbeat sounded like drums pounding at her head. She also didn’t understand why she’s so scared all of the sudden, finding her odd. “...Did you experience something horrible in this place? I don’t want to hear an explanation. Just say yes or no.”

“Yeah.” She averted her eyes. “Why?”

She didn’t respond to her question but instead turned around once again to continue walking across the hall to reach the stairs. “I couldn’t care less if this place leaves you uneasy.” Thalia spat coldly, starting to lose patience as the girl’s heartbeat grew louder.

“Look, lady, you’re freaking me out more right now okay?” Carli eyed her owlishly wondering if now would be a good time to leave. Susie was short tempered, but this one seemed to already despise her. What was Lancelot thinking?

“Look, brat,” Thalia mocked, stopping from her tracks once again as she stepped closer towards the girl. “If this meaningless library is more than enough to be at your wits end, I suggest you leave and stop wasting my time. I’m not here to take care of a scared little child that can’t accept that this is how reality works. Don’t misunderstand me, I already know what happened here.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose to calm herself down, knowing that she was being too harsh with the girl. “Stuff like that happens all the time and it gets even worse. You haven’t even touched the surface yet. At this rate, you’ll risk everyone’s death because you choose to submit to your weaknesses rather than face them.” Then, she sighed for the umpteenth time today as she felt even more exhausted. This was the first time she spoke this much to anyone before.

“...I won’t apologise for my behaviour.” She muttered as her glare softened. “I don’t know what kind of treatment you’ve been receiving so far, but I’m not here to baby you. I was assigned to help you get stronger and catch up with your education quick enough for you to catch up with everyone’s pace. I can’t waste any time here. This library causes you grief and you’re allowed to grieve, but if you don’t have the guts to turn it into determination then what’s the point of you being alive? If you’re not ready to accept the harsh treatment, then I refuse to help let alone respect you at all.”

The few students in the library turned and looked. A few more stepped out from behind shelves and out from study corners. Carli’s muscles tensed up under the tongue lashing. This girl didn’t know her. She didn’t understand.

Her stiff posture slowly relaxed. “Okay. Chill. If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not here to be annoying…”

Sensing other people’s presence, she swiftly turned her head towards them and glared at them menacingly, causing them to yelp and scurry away. Everyone had heard that Thalia was known to lose her temper no matter what, but it was still surprisingly intimidating to see it in person. If Lancelot found out that she managed to get in trouble with a student again, he was going to have her head. However, she was quite surprised. At this point, the girl should’ve run away in tears and never spoken to her again, yet she stood her ground and managed to talk back.

“That’s better.” Thalia said smugly, raising a brow at the girl. “But we’re staying here. I’m not going to change locations if you can’t handle this place. The first thing we need to do is get you used to this place and if you can’t face your fears, are you really going to depend on others to get books for you every time you need to study? Speak up because I’m not speaking for you. You decide.”

“You’re assuming a lot.” Carli said. “I came here to study. If we’re not going to do that, I’m leaving.”

She didn’t have to put up with this. She wondered what sort of rumors were circulating around about her. From the sounds of things, Susie was running her mouth about what happened when she met her for study. So much for avoiding blowback from her relationship with Johann.

Thalia pressed her lips to a firm line. The moment Lu spoke about her, she knew they couldn’t get along. She didn’t even believe Lancelot’s words from earlier, assuming we both had similarities. It was easier to just drop her and go, never having to deal with her again, but Lancelot’s disappointed face appeared in the back of her mind. He was the only one who had faith in her and tried to be understanding unlike the rest of them.

Lancelot had faith that this would be good for her. The least she could do was make him proud.

Shoving her pride down, Thalia hastily bowed to the girl and clenched her fists to the side. “...I’m sorry. I spoke to you as if I knew you wholeheartedly. I overstepped my boundaries and made you upset.” She already felt the stares of the other students who stubbornly stayed behind to watch the scene unfold, gasping at how she had lowered her head to another student for once. It was embarrassing and she bit her lip so hard she felt her blood seep into her mouth, but she needed to do this. She was wrong after all.

Carli, unaware of Lancelot’s influence, assumed that the girl remembered she was Star of Cassell. “Let’s just get started.” She sighed. This girl hated her guts. Who knew what would happen once she didn’t have an aura of invincibility.

She remained in her position, staring down at her feet before closing her eyes. “...I don’t hate your guts.” Thalia didn’t need to look at the girl to sense her uneasiness and she knew she was already starting to misunderstand her like the rest of them. She...just couldn’t explain.

Carli lifted her eyes to Thalia’s. “Then act like it?” She tilted her head with a puzzled expression.

“...I can’t.” Thalia raised her head slowly, looking at her with an anxious expression. She suddenly looked like a small child all of a sudden. “I’m nervous.” She knew she wasn’t making any sense, but her cheeks were beginning to match the shade of her hair.

Carli nodded once. Much to her surprise, she didn’t ask why not. “Hey… have you ever tried meditation?”

“...Does knife throwing count as meditation?” Thalia asked, twiddling with her bandaged fingers. “It helps me calm down.”

“Not quite.” She squints a little. “But it requires a little practice. Wanna do that instead?”

Thalia tried to hide the pout forming on her face, but failed to do so. “...I guess. May I also ask you a question then? Please?” The word ‘please’ felt so foreign on her tongue, but it didn’t feel too bad to say it.

Carli smiled a little. “Sure.”

“I heard you’re from Chicago too, right?” She asked, sadness evident in her eyes before it disappeared. “Has it changed?” Thalia hadn’t been to the city ever since she was forcibly told to run away from where she once lived.

“Not really. As far as I remember it’s… the same as always. At least my part of it. Where’d you grow up?” She asked.

“...I’m an orphan. I was raised in Saint Bruno Orphanage.” She answered, a small frown on her face. “I don’t remember much from that place. I guess it’s pointless, nevermind.” She shook her head, slightly embarrassed to admit she was an orphan.

“I figured.” She said. “You wanna… go somewhere and talk?” Carli, having grown up in foster, learned from her foster parents the proper way to handle children who were abandoned by their parents. Death was a sort of involuntary abandonment that brought up issues all of its own.

She never thought of herself as an orphan, having held out hope for her mother being alive. But she knew kids who suffered the double whammy of losing both parents and being adopted by people who later abandoned them. “Or not… we could just hang out.”

Thalia couldn’t respond, feeling a bit speechless about being asked to chat, let alone hang out with her for the first time. The red-head was both verbally and physically violent, and she couldn’t even control it due to her abilities. Is this what Lancelot was trying to say? Is this what he wanted?

“That’s...fine. We can talk and do that meditation thing you were talking about earlier.” Thalia muttered, “I wasn’t planning on starting your studies or training with you today anyways.”

“I think you’ll like it…” Carli said. “It helps me a lot when I can’t figure myself out.”

The other students, realizing they weren’t going to get a cat-fight between two good looking ladies slunk back to their studies.

#Johann Chu #Dragon Raja #collab #fanfiction #writing

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peachiefics · 5 years ago

Text

Nude

Pairing: Jimin x OC

Genre: Fluff; Almost Smut

Warning: Suggestive Scenes

Word Count: 3,840

Synopsis: When nudity is the norm, what would it take for Jimin to feel flustered? Her.

The screeching of an alarm did nothing more than irritate Jimin. With eyes tightly shut and a heavy sigh, he slammed his hand on the bedside table, somehow managing to silence his phone. Releasing himself from the grip of grogginess, he dragged himself out of bed and over to his closet.

“Not like it matters,” he mumbled to himself, haphazardly sifting through his clothes before selecting a pair of light-wash skinny jeans and a white button-up shirt. His ears perked up at the sound of his roommate’s door opening, with the rest of him following suit as he threw his clothes on the bed and bolted for the bathroom. He slid past the younger male and grabbed the door handle, much to the boy’s dismay. “You snooze, you lose, Kid.”

With a click of his teeth, the boy whined, “C’mon, Jimin. I gotta take a piss!”

“And I got morning wood to chop before my first class. I’ll need an extra ten minutes, so piss outside, Niagara,” Jimin laughed, closing the door behind himself. Turning to face the shower, he took a deep breath and leaned down to turn it on. Soon after, his clothing was tossed into a nearby hamper and he stepped under the comfortable warmth of the water. He let some fall onto his face in the hopes of it waking him up fully, though that didn’t quite work. “Well, here goes nothin’,” he mentally trailed off and bit his lip, one hand gliding from his face and down his torso to wrap around his length.

“Off to whore yourself out for cash again today?” the younger male asked, watching Jimin enter the living room, steam wafting around him.

He stopped in his tracks, holding onto the towel around his waist indignantly. “I am not a whore, Jungkook. I’m a model. An artist. A-”

“Sex worker?” Jungkook asked with a raised eyebrow, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“I’m not a sex worker, though that is a completely valid line of work,” he replied, walking over to push his roommate’s feet off the table before heading back to his room to get dressed.

The brisk April breeze caressed Jimin’s face as he sat on the park bench watching people pass by—kids on their way to school, morning joggers, and a host of folks making their morning commute. He glanced down at his watch while taking a sip of lukewarm caramel macchiato. “7:30…She should be here by now,” he thought to himself, scanning the area one more time. His eyes landed on a very familiar head of hair. Bright turquoise, tightly coiled hair, to be exact. Hair that you could see from a mile away. He couldn’t help but smile as he observed her observe everyone else, bottom lip caught between her teeth as her pencil danced across the page in her sketchbook, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

This was a part of his morning routine now—drinking coffee in the park and admiring the curly-haired artist before work. She’d sit on a blanket under the same oak tree every day, hoping her subjects wouldn’t catch her drawing them and becoming adorably embarrassed whenever they did. So as not to deter her, her pretended not to notice her gaze lingering on him, assuming she was immortalizing him within the book’s pages.

At 7:45, Jimin decided it would be best to get to the studio early. After tossing his cup in a nearby bin, he got up and finished his walk to work.

“Ah, you must be Jimin!” a middle-aged woman with waist-length, bone-straight black hair greeted him at the door.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he smiled, offering to shake her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jamison.”

“And you, as well. Just follow me this way to the storage room so you can change and grab a robe. The students should start filing in any minute now. I have a few early birds,” she chuckled, leading him out of the studio space. “Let me know if you need anything, and feel free to come out when you’re ready!”

He nodded with a smile as she closed the door behind herself. Then, he began to undress, calmly pulling off each item of clothing and folding it before placing everything on a stool. He grabbed one of the robes from a nearby hook and slid it on, making sure to tie it tightly. As he exited the storage room, he heard the woman’s voice again.

“Just a few reminders before I introduce you to today’s model. First, all electronic devices must be put away. No photography is allowed. You are to respect the model at all times, which means you must keep your hands and comments to yourself. We’re all adults here; I’m sure I don’t have to teach you how to behave.”

He figured that was his cue to come in, so he stepped into the bright light of the studio and shyly smiled at the students, all of whom seemed to be around his age.

“This is Jimin, and you all will have the honor of painting him today.”

“I think I’ll have the honor of being painted by all these talented artists. From the work I’ve seen, you guys’ll make me look ten times better,” he laughed, feeling relief as the class responded positively.

“Well, then, up you go,” Miss Jamison beamed, gesturing toward the platform in the center of the room.

Jimin confidently hopped onto the platform and untied the robe, letting it fall from his shoulders before stretching himself into a graceful pose. The sound of the fabric hitting the ground was drowned out by the creaking of the studio’s door.

A light, airy voice chimed, “Sorry I’m-,” before quickly becoming silent. Knowing that only one person had been missing, the rest of the class continued working. Jimin, on the other hand, completely froze, as his eyes met those of the tardy student and trailed up to the bright turquoise, tightly coiled hair that could be seen from a mile away.

“Late…,” she finished, hastening to her chair and easel.

“Lost track of time at the park again, I assume?” Miss Jamison inquired, walking behind her and plucking a leaf from her curls before presenting it to her.

The girl giggled and took it from the older woman. “Yeah, sorry, Miss J.”

“Well, get started before the boy cramps up. We’ll be taking our first break in about twenty minutes.”

Jimin watched her get settled, suddenly feeling even more vulnerable. He noticed her eyes skim across his body, her cheeks blushing at the sight of his lower region. He could almost hear her internal monologue as she reminded herself that she’s an adult and an artist, so nudity shouldn’t be a big deal. Seeing her so flustered caused him to smirk, which he failed to conceal.

“Alright, class! That’s it for today. Jimin, thank you again for joining us.”

“Thank you for having me!” he chirped in response, tugging the robe back on as he stretched his limbs. “Is it okay if I take a look at everyone’s work?” The class gave an affirmative response, each student eager to show him their paintings and secretly hoping that he would favor theirs. His fingers tugged at the tie around his waist as he made his way around the room, admiring all the different interpretations of his appearance. He did have a favorite, of course. The one that looked the most like him happened to be hers, though he knew that was because she’d had the advantage of observing him every morning for the last two weeks. “How much do you want for it?”

“What?” she inquired in disbelief.

“How much?” he grinned, watching her brown orbs widen.

“No, I heard you, I just—it’s not even that good!”

“Nonsense. If I set it as my Tinder profile picture, I’ll be married by next week,” he laughed.

“I couldn’t charge you anyth-”

“Would $200 cover it? I’d offer more, but I’m low on cash. Actually, wait here.” He began to walk backwards towards the storage room and pointed at her. “Don’t move,” he challenged playfully, one eyebrow raised with a finger pointed in her direction.

The girl looked over at Miss Jamison who smiled with a shrug. “It is a really good painting.”

When he returned, fully clothed, everyone else had left. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he said, holding out the money.

“Hazel, and I can’t take your money.”

“Sure, you can. You just open up your hand and-”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she rolled her eyes, amusement clear in her tone and expression. “$200 is a lot.”

“This painting is worth $400, easy, and if I could, I’d give you every last cent.”

She swiped a curl from in front of her face before answering. “Well, thank you, but-”

“I know, I know. You obviously can’t be swayed…,” he raised his hands in defense. “So how about I give you $100 and take you out to lunch tomorrow?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What, I take it I’m not your type? Or is it that I haven’t left much to the imagination?” he teased.

She laughed and shook her head, figuring he’d be persistent. “Why?”

“So I can see the other drawings of me in your sketchbook,” he replied, head tilted.

“How’d you--…You’ve been watching me in the park,” she spoke her realization, crossing her arms in amusement.

“Which means we’re even. Meet me under your oak tree tomorrow at noon,” he smiled, carefully picking up the painting and leaving the money in its place before leaving.

“So, you spent $100 of our rent money…on a painting?” Jungkook asked, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s not just any painting, and I’ll make the money back by the end of the week,” Jimin replied, setting the painting down against the kitchen counter.

Jungkook stood up from the couch and walked over to take a look at it, immediately releasing an obnoxious laugh. “You spent $100 of our rent money for an ego boost; there’s no way your dick is that big.”

The older boy punched his roommate in the shoulder, initiating a bicker and banter session that lasted until they tired each other out.

The next day, Jimin sat alone beneath the oak tree on a navy-blue blanket at ten after twelve. Checking his phone for the third time in the last five minutes, he reminded himself that “she’s probably just running late”.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hazel breathed, plopping herself in front of him on the blanket.

“Judging by what I saw yesterday, late is your on-time,” he chuckled in response.

“And smug must be your friendly. Maybe I should’ve made you wait a little longer,” she playfully chided, opening her large bag.

“Well, then you would’ve missed out on this incredible lunch I packed for us,” his grin glowed with pride as he pulled a basket from behind himself and sat it between them.

After fishing around a bit, she found her sketchbook. “Ah, let me guess…tarte flambée? Perhaps a crudité platter,” she spoke in an exaggerated French accent.

“I don’t think I could afford to even google those things….but I hope you still like what I got,” he replied, opening the basket and laying out the food he had prepared. She looked at the spread and couldn’t help but giggle. An assortment of mini sandwiches, pasta salad, fresh fruit, and sparkling lemonade.

“It’s perfect,” she smiled softly. Before she could reach for anything, he placed his hand over the food, palm upward.

“Not so fast. Sketchbook.”

“A deal’s a deal,” she shrugged, handing it over before picking up a sandwich and taking a bite. She watched him carefully, taking note of the time he spent lingering on each page and each of his reactions and expressions. He was about halfway through the book by the time she had eaten her third mini sandwich. “You gonna eat?” she asked almost sarcastically.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I just….You’re really talented, you know that right?”

The sincerity in his voice made the tips of her ears turn red, and she inwardly thanked her hair for covering them. “Thanks, but I just draw what I see.”

“I don’t even see this when I look in the mirror,” he muttered more so to himself, as his fingers grazed his image on a page.

“Well, that picture is from two or three weeks ago. You’ve changed a lot since then,” she thought aloud, gently lifting his chin without thinking much of it. He watched as her eyes explored his facial features, feeling a bit lightheaded. “The sun’s been out quite a bit recently, and I’m sure you tan pretty easily. And if I’m not mistaken, you have a bit of stubble coming in,” she giggled.

He lightly brushed her hand aside. “You’re very observant.”

“And you’re blushing.”

“It’s allergy season,” he offered a fake cough in defense, causing her to laugh.

“You’ve been out almost every night for the last three weeks. You must really like this girl.”

“She’s amazing, Kook,” Jimin gushed, falling onto the couch beside his roommate. “She’s---she’s beautiful, and funny, and so incredibly talented, and smart, and sweet, and I could listen to her talk for hours--- about anything! Everything she has to say about culture, or art, or politics---it’s all just so interesting and insightful and oh my god, what is happening to me?” he spoke hurriedly, giddy laughter punctuating his rambling.

“You’re in deep,” the younger male simpered, offering a half-finished beer.

“Shit…I think you might be right,” he deadpanned, taking the drink and chugging it.

Jimin followed the directions on his phone as he clumsily paced through the unfamiliar neighborhood. He came to an abrupt stop as a shabby apartment complex that you’d miss if you blinked. “Second floor…Room 221,” he mumbled, entering and heading for the elevator. After wandering around for a few minutes, he found the correct room and used his foot to tap the door since his hands were full.

Hazel quickly opened it, giggling a bit as Jimin greeted her as best he could with a paper bag from a local bakery between his teeth. “You know you didn’t have to, right?” she politely inquired, grabbing the bag as well as one of the coffee cups in his hand and inviting him in.

“I know, but I wanted to. The bakery near my place makes those things you liked so much when you studied abroad. Canelés, right?” He wasn’t sure if he was reading her expression correctly, but she seemed surprised.

“You remembered.” She opened the bag and looked inside, already catching the scent of vanilla. “Thank you, Jimin. This was really sweet.”

His free hand flew to the back of his neck, nails scratching nervously. “Don’t mention it.” He finally ripped his eyes from her to take a look around the apartment for the first time. “Nice place,” he smiled, taking in all of the colorful décor.

“Thanks. I have to show you the studio, though!” she replied, taking his hand and leading him to the biggest room. The wide windows allowed the sun to illuminate the entire room. Paintings lined the walls and occupied every corner and paint splattered shelving housed more art supplies than he could count.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know right! The overall apartment is shit, but my studio has such a great view and the natural light around golden hour? Ugh, it’s like a dream,” she sighed before taking a sip of her iced coffee.

“I can imagine…”

“Well, if you say yes to my proposition, you won’t have to,” she hesitantly added, fingers tapping the cup.

“Proposition?”

“I’m supposed to be working on a piece for a gallery showing next month, but I wasn’t inspired to paint anything until recently.”

“What inspired you?”

“Well…you,” she blushed. “Don’t get a big head about it, but I wanted to ask you to model for me, personally. I can pay you, and it’ll be more than what you got last time. $40 per session, with a total of four sessions.”

“That’s-”

“I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can afford right now. You know, starving artist and all that. But, if I sell it, I can promise you a sizeable cut.”

“Hazel, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I want to,” she parroted with a playful shrug.

“This is usually just for when friends and family visit,” Hazel explained, pulling out an air mattress. “But for the next four sessions, it’ll be part of our setup. Now if you wouldn’t mind disrobing.”

Jimin nodded and began to undress. “Are you going to paint me like one of your French girls?”

She chuckled and answered, “Something like that,” as she unfolded a white sheet. “Do you consent to me occasionally touching you to adjust things like hair or the sheet?”

As much as he wanted to make a suggestive joke, he knew that this was important to establish and that she took it seriously as a professional. “Yes, you have my consent.”

“Thank you. Now, lay down here and position yourself comfortably. I want the finished painting to be…intimate. Not vulgar or sexual at all. But intimate, and gentle, and warm.”

He nodded again to affirm that he understood and laid down on the mattress, resting his head on his arm and stretching out his legs.

“Okay, now face me just slightly,” she directed, draping the sheet over him organically. “And I just need a soft facial expression. Like one of innocent adoration. Of love, y’know?” She placed her knuckle under his chin to tilt his face upward a bit and their eyes met. With a soft smile, she gently brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, kinda like that,” she remarked, eyes breaking from his to momentarily examine him.

“You know somethin’, Hazel?” Jimin asked, voice low and gaze lingering on her. She hummed in response and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “I’ve been naked in front of dozens of people…and I’ve never felt nearly as vulnerable as I do right now.”

“I’m sorry--” she began, unsure of what she might’ve done to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Don’t be,” he smiled softly, eyes lidded.

By the time she had finished her sketch and first layer of paint, the sun had filled the room with golden light, bouncing from surface to surface. He nearly purred in delight, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth embrace him, and she stopped momentarily to observe. He was stunning; every beige turned gold and every brown turned bronze. Sculpted and sunlit, pouty lips pressed into a crescent of contentment and lashes casting mile long shadows over flushed cheeks.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he interrupted her train of thought.

“Very,” she offered, setting her paintbrush down. “We’re about due for a break. Wanna take a look outside the window?”

He nodded eagerly and sat up, wrapping the sheet around his waist before sitting on the windowsill and patting the spot beside him. She granted his silent request and sat there, looking through the glass. “It’s like it goes on forever,” he said of the cityscape. “Like this town isn’t nearly as small as it seems.”

“And it seems pretty small, especially when you’ve been here your whole life.”

He bit back a grin and replied, “Yeah, well, at least you got to travel abroad, even if only for a few months. It must suck seeing and experiencing so many amazing things and then coming back home.”

Her gaze shifted to him as he took in the view and she couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t know,” she pondered for a moment. “I think that I’ve learned how to find the magic in the mundane. With a keen enough eye and adventurous spirit, you’ll find that anywhere can be as amazing as Paris. Dans une grande âme tout est grand. Blaise Pascal.”

“English, please?” he probed with a light chuckle, turning to face her.

“In a great mind everything is great.”

Jimin turned his back toward the window, leaning his head against it with a heavy sigh. “God..I could listen to you talk forever.”

She giggled and shook her head. “I sincerely doubt that. And why would you want to?”

He tilted his head slightly in her direction. “You know, as brilliant as you are, you’re incredibly dense.”

“Or maybe I just wanted you to be a little more straightforward,” she countered, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other.

He sat forward, mimicking her expression. “Then maybe you should’ve taken the initiative to lead by example.”

“Fine. Embrasse moi,” she nearly whispered, eyes peering into his. “Need me to translate?”

Feeling heat rush to his face, he leaned in closer, eyes darting to her lips. “No…I think I got the gist of it.”

Within mere seconds, their lips collided, though it felt like hours, if not days. Time was both ever-present and nonexistent whenever Jimin was with Hazel. Frozen, yet fleeting, keeping them suspended in a haze that he had grown quite fond of. Her hand traveled from his face down his torso, setting his skin ablaze. Though he felt frantic, wanting to release all he had been feeling over the last month or so, she was calm, her movements soothing the ache he felt for her. Pulling her onto his sheet-shrouded lap, he made quick work of unbuttoning her top and latching onto her neck to leave bright purple paint splatters across her brown canvas. Just as her bare shoulders adjusted to the temperature, they were pressed into the mattress. He loomed over her, legs tangled in the white cotton, and admired her blissful demeanor—lips full and parted, breath heavy, skin flushed, eyes low.

“Je te veux,” she murmured, tracing his lips with her thumb as she gently grasped his face.

He shut his eyes tightly, a groan caught deep in his throat. “F-fuck, that sounded so good…,” he stuttered, fingers struggling to loosen her belt.

The two basked in an afterglow that put the sun’s rays to shame. He leaned over to kiss her once more before speaking. “I read somewhere that many of the greats slept with their muses: Picasso, Dalí, like everyone during the Renaissance, and don’t even get me started on the Greeks,” Jimin explained, absentmindedly running a hand up and down her arm.

“Oh yeah, well everyone was fuckin’ everybody back then. The Greeks were old school freaky,” she laughed. “But don’t get too used to this. I still need to finish this painting, so we can’t get carried away every session. As a matter of fact, I should probably start on layer two.”

Before Hazel could reach for her clothes, Jimin grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “One request?”

“Anything…within reason,” she warned teasingly.

He let out a light laugh and bit the corner of his bottom lip. “Paint in the nude.”

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts fic #bts smut #bts jimin #black kpop fans #fluff #smut #jimin imagine #jimin oneshot #kpop fanfiction

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fanficimagery · 6 years ago

Text

Imagine being late to dinner the night Beauxbatons and Durmstrang first arrive. When the spotlight is momentarily thrust upon you, you find yourself under the curious gaze of the Wizarding World's most famous Quidditch Seeker- Viktor Krum.

Viktor X Reader

Cringing at the noise the giant oak door makes as you nudge it open slowly to the Great Hall, you slip inside in a crouch and creep over towards your house table in hopes of going unnoticed. Those sitting close to the ends of each table snicker at you, you then flashing them your most innocent smile.

The students at Gryffindor table make some room for you and you take a seat immediately to let some of the attention die down. "Operation Get-Y/N-To-Her-Seat is a go," you utter.

The Gryffindor's snicker again before passing the message down to the person seated next to them, the muffled laughter becoming more distinguishable as the message makes it's way down the table. The operation in question is one the Weasley twins came up with when you were late to dinner one too many times, especially the ones when Dumbledore had some speech to make, and came up with a plan to help you get to your seat without drawing attention to your tardiness. Once everyone had the message, they'd tuck their legs in under their seats to make it easier for you to bear crawl as fast as you can underneath the table until you made it to your seat.

Once you have the go ahead, you slip out of your seat and underneath the table much to everyone's amusement. Dumbledore is giving some speech about the Triwizard tournament and about school unity, but all you're worried about is getting to your seat before the food appears.

As your scrambling underneath, a hand suddenly catches you by the forehead. You bite at the offending appendage, smirking when you hear a muffled yelp, and then climb up into the vacant seat only to come face to face with Harry and Ron. On either side of you are Hermione and Fred, Fred being the one cradling his hand and glaring at you.

"See if I help you next time," he grumbles.

"Yeah? Well don't slap my forehead and you won't get bitten!"

"I was trying to help!"

"..and as usual, thank you for gracing us with your presence, Miss Y/L/N. I take it your nap was well?" The voice of Dumbledore addressing you makes everyone freeze, you slowly turning your attention to the staff table.

Every teacher is staring at you with vague interest- they too used to your tardiness to dinner- and you slowly stand to your feet to address the headmaster back. "Uh.. yes, sir. Me and my bed have a wonderful relationship. You can hardly separate us."

Dumbledore chuckles as the Great Hall erupt in quiet laughter. The headmaster winks and you plop back down in your seat, groaning as you hide your face in your hands. As he wraps up his speech, you take the ribbing from your classmates in stride and then quickly fill your plate when the food appears.

Dinner is quickly underway and your friends fill you in on what you missed. Ron waxes poetic about the Beauxbatons entrance before mentioning Durmstrang and the fact that Viktor bloody Krum is in attendance. You vaguely remember Krum being the guy Ron nearly wet himself over during the Quidditch World Cup and grin when he seems to swoon at the thought of Krum being chosen as Durmstrang's champion.

Just as you're shoving a piece of gravy-soaked roll into your mouth, Fred jabs his elbow into your ribs. "What?" You grunt, elbowing him back.

"Don't look now, but Viktor Krum is staring at you."

"What?!" Inhaling in surprise, the piece of roll hits the back of your throat and you start coughing violently. Fred cackles and starts pounding you on the back until your airway is clear, and after sucking down a healthy amount of pumpkin juice you glare at your friend. "Dick move, Weasley."

"Call me dick all you want, Y/N, but it doesn't change the fact that Krum is still staring and saw that whole thing."

Your face immediately heats up and you try your best not to look across the hall to see if it's true. Harry and Ron have no shame since the both of them quickly turn in their seats to see if what Fred is saying is true, and sure enough.. it is.

"Bloody hell," Ron gulps. "He keeps looking over here."

"What'd you do to him?" Harry grins.

"Nothing!" You nearly shout. "I haven't- I just woke up! I'd never even spoken to the bloke."

"Well you must have done something," Ginny muses. "He can't keep his gaze away."

Finally caving, you inhale deeply before looking towards the spot that your friends keep glancing at. Sure enough Viktor Krum sits surrounded by his own classmates, but his attention is solely on you. Then gulping, you raise your hand and offer a weak wave in his direction. His lips faintly twitch before he nods just once and then his attention is diverted to whatever his neighbor is asking him.

"Viktor Krum knows who I am," you quietly groan. "What is going on?"

"Aw. Cheer up, mate. At least you get the inquisitive stares. You should have seen him when he first walked in here," Fred says. "Bloody git looked like he wanted to murder someone."

"Yes, well can we get back to eating?" You weakly ask. "I'm rather keen on getting back to bed, so less talk about Krum and more shoveling food into your mouth in hopes we look so disgusting that no one rather look our way."

Ron shoves an entire chicken leg into his mouth, grumbling, and Hermione wrinkles her nose at him. "Charming, Ronald. Real charming."

"You said.."

"You said!"

Watching Fred and George Weasley attack one another in their newly aged forms is a sight to behold. Both white haired teenagers roll around on the ground as the other students who were lingering around to watch possible champions enter their name into the Goblet laugh at their predicament. But soon enough the laughter falls into hush whispering as none other than Viktor Krum walks into the room.

Viktor's dark gaze is set on the Goblet with only one goal in mind- to drop his name into it. Everyone seems to hold their breath as the famous Seeker stalks his way further into the room, but the moment his arm raises with the small piece of parchment that bears his name on it in hand, his gaze finds yours. He holds your gaze as he drops his name, his lips twitching into a faint smirk as he pulls his arm back down.

Heart pounding furiously, you shyly smile in return before averting your gaze. But Hermione is next you and chuckling at the predicament you suddenly find yourself in. "Shut it," you grumble and then nudge her with your elbow. "Not a word."

"But, Y/N," she grins while watching Viktor Krum takes his leave. "It's quite funny if you think about it."

"No, it's not."

"It is. You've never once given anyone of the opposite sex the time of day. Viktor Krum shows up and you suddenly lose your composure."

"I can't help it!" You wail and Hermione hides her smile behind a hand. "He's so cute, Hermione. But every bloody witch and wizard is after him. I don't have a chance in hell."

Hermione scoffs. "Are you joking? Y/N, this is the second time Krum has been in the same room with you and his gaze is set on you. Don't be thick. He's interested."

"So says you," you huff. "Now come on, Granger. Lets go to the library to see if there's anything we can find to help Fred and George revert to their younger selves."

Hiding behind the body of a fallen tree down by the shoreline of the lake, you peek over the top to see if anyone has found your hiding spot. With your wand gripped tight in hand and chest heaving after having just ran to get away from all the water bombs, you're not paying attention to the space at your back.

"Vot are you doing?" The heavily accented question startles you into whirling around, you slashing your wand in the air and gaping as a water formation the size of grapefruit slams into the back of Viktor Krum's head. He grunts and you immediately drop your wand.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry. Oh, Merlin, I didn't mean-" Someone shouts and your eyes widen, you jumping up and grasping Viktor by the wrist before tugging him down next to you by the fallen tree. "We have to hide. It's a water war, Krum, and I'm so sorry for bringing you into this."

"..it's Viktor," he eventually mutters, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you can practically hear your heart trying to beat it's way out of your chest. "Oh. Um, I-I know. I just didn't want to presume anything and figured your last name was neutral territory. I-I'm Y/N, by the way. And once again I'm really, really sor-"

"Do not ‘pologize," he muses while trying to find a comfortable crouched position. "Honest mistake, da?"

"Uhh.. da means yes, right?" At his nod, you sigh in relief. "Then da. Totally honest mistake." Picking your wand back up, you retake your position.

"Vot is going on?" He then asks. "On my run ‘round lake, I saw many children bombarding each ozer."

"We're just having a little fun to promote inter-house unity." You smile at him. "Just be lucky this year is a water war. Last year was a paint war and Professor McGonagall was not happy to have multi-colored footprints up and down the hallways of Hogwarts."

Viktor's answering laugh makes you swoon, but you catch yourself before he can see what effect he has on you. "If ve ‘tempted to have fun at Durmstrang, Headmaster Karkaroff vould punish us severely."

You scoff. "Sounds like Headmaster Karkaroff needs to un-knot his wand." You tense as soon as the words leave your mouth and slowly turn your head to meet Viktor's amused gaze. "Please don't tell your Headmaster that. He's kind of scary."

"Your secret is safe vith me, malŭk."

You're not sure what that word is, but the look on his face is enough to make you blush. His faint grin blossoms into a full smile and you mentally swear in your head at how this boy turns you into such a- such a girl! Clearing your throat, you then avert your gaze. Realizing the coast is clear, you gesture for your new friend to follow. "Lets go, Viktor. Be on the lookout for Potter, though. That little shite has an invisibility cloak and has no qualms about cheating."

Viktor chuckles and nods, he brandishing his own wand now as he follows your lead. The both of you sneak from cover to cover, and when the rest of the student body realize Viktor Krum has joined the war.. it then becomes a game of hide-n-seek to keep the fans away from Viktor.

After everyone had calmed down from the excitement of the First Task where everyone got to see the Triwizard champions go up against dragons, the remainder of the school days became tense with boys trying to work up the courage to ask any available female to the Yule Ball.

"Honestly, boys, it's not that frightening," you muse one morning at breakfast. "The worst anyone can say is no and if it does come to that, all you do is smile politely and move on. Rejection isn't so bad."

"Easy for you to say," Ron scoffs. "You're a girl. All you have to do is wait until some bloke comes to you."

"That's still terrifying," Hermione says. "While you boys can go up to any girl, we have to sit back and wait for someone to come to us- if they come to us. For some reason, it's unreasonable for us girls to ask a boy to the dance."

"Agreed," you sigh. "While we play will they or won't they, you boys have the pick of the ladies."

Harry coughs into his hand, smothering a smile. "Uh, Y/N? Turn around."

Chewing on a piece of toast, you swallow and frown at him. "What?" Ron's face reddens and his eyes bulge in his head.

"Turn around!" Hermione hisses, swatting your arm.

You turn to glare at your friend, but a throat clearing behind you makes you freeze. It's only then you realize the Great Hall has gone oddly quiet. "Y/N?"

The accented voice makes you grimace as you utter, "Oh, balls," beneath your breath. Ginny chokes on her orange juice and her twin brothers make sure to swat her back to help her clear her airways. Then slowly turning around, you hesitantly meet the gaze of Viktor Krum. "Hey, V-Viktor. What brings you to the lion's den?"

He smirks as he clasps his hands behind his back and then politely says, "If you do not already have date, it vould be great honor if you vould accompany me to Yule Ball."

You gulp and stare, and then a swift kick to your shin beneath the table startles you into motion. "I-I'd love to be your date!"

He beams before realizing where he is, he then schooling his expression into one all the Durmstrang students seem to have mastered. He clicks his heels together once and then bows to you before making his way back towards Slytherin's table where his friends are all smiling and cheering for him.

Hearing a few snickers behind your back, you whirl around and stare at each one of your friends. "Not. A. Word."

Hermione's eyes are sparkling with mirth, but she merely mimes zipping her lips closed before going back to her own breakfast.

Google translations are terrible, but they are the only ones I have so..

malŭk - little one

#fanficimagery #viktor krum x reader #viktor x reader #viktor krum imagine #viktor krum #harry potter #hp #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #hermione granger #ron weasley #imagine

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yukiwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Love Masked as Devotion

Thank you for the support, @pronislav! I had a blast writing this, I hope you like it! ^v^)b

Summary: Gilbert had pledged his allegiance to Byleth atop the Goddess Tower, three years ago. Over the course of the years, the seasoned knight watched over his new liege with a warmth in his smile that he hadn’t felt in over twenty years... but he wasn’t allowed to feel such happiness for he was an undeserving man. Or was he?

Commission info HERE and HERE!

_______________________________

During the first few years of his self-imposed exile, then-Gilbert refused to allow himself the simple pleasure of smiling. He had abandoned his allegiance, family and name -- he wasn't worthy of forgetting the suffering he inflicted on those he had left behind nor those he had failed to protect.

Smiling would mean that he was forgetting, that he was putting it all behind him to start anew. And he could never forget.

How could he, when the dead has smiled their last before his own failure as a knight? How could he, when the living he left behind truly smiled their last during the time they called themselves a true family?

No, there was too much at stake: too many regrets, too many ties wrapped around his wrists, little by little pulling him down to a murky darkness -- to a place he could never truly return from. Not as himself.

A self-imposed prison he would never set foot out of, the guilt so overpowering he couldn't even bring himself to say his own name without wanting to disappear in shame. Gustave had failed. He had let his King and fellow knights die -- he had scarred the Prince in a way that would never truly heal.

The disgrace of his true name followed him closely, heavier as the years passed, pulling him down. Pulling, strangling, drowning... Sometimes even his own voice failed, the deep, viscous darkness preventing him to even utter apologies to the ones he had left behind.

Other times, apologies were the only words he had left.

Four years he had ran. Ashamed, he had turned to faith to pray for salvation -- not his, mind, but for those he had failed to protect. If only they could be at peace, perhaps he, too, one day...

Five years more he had ran, the sin of losing his King's son adding to the burden he could never lift from his shoulders.

For nine long years Gilbert had prayed, dumping his worries unto the goddess in a vain attempt to lighten the burden -- if all of them were at least safe in the afterlife, perhaps he, too, one day...

"Praying won't help you atone." Byleth's words had felt like a slap on his face, said during such an otherwise uneventful night the now Archbishop had most likely forgotten it by now. "It's OK to hold on to the ghosts of your past, they are part of who you are. But you can't let them hold on to you and deprive you of your own life."

That right then, those wise words imparted from someone so young yet so burdened by the throes of duty... Gilbert quite literally and most certainly felt his whole world change. He could feel as though a strong gust of air had disheveled his air, the magnanimous force of nature imbuing his sight with the light he had lost almost a decade previous.

Had breathing always been that easy? He could feel the air fill his lungs vigorously, a new life -- or perhaps the acceptance of his old one -- running through his veins.

To allow yesterday to be done, and focus on tomorrow.

To learn from his mistakes and not let them drag him down -- to accept the importance of those he had lost to be able to focus on those he was afraid to lose. On those whose smiles he had robbed with his shameful departure.

On those whose smile he swore to protect.

His eyes fond, Gustave softly shook his head to dispel the thoughts of the past that crept inside his mind the moment he set foot inside the Archbishop's study.

The comforting yet worrying scene the knight witnessed might have been the reason to set his old brain off to nostalgia island: Byleth slept peacefully, a satisfied smile on his face, over a mountain of papers he was yet to sign.

Gustave worried for his new liege -- mostly about the terrible neck pain he was sure to have should he remain sleeping in that position -- though he couldn't help but want to watch the scene for a moment longer.

Byleth had always been someone any person could depend on. He would offer sound, thoughtful counsel as was also willing to lend an ear for his brothers-in-arms, his expression often serious or attentive.

Honestly, Gustave thought that the younger man tried a bit too hard to match those of... higher years than himself. Yet, Gustave himself had been on the receiving end of Byleth's kind, warm heart, so he hadn't the right to tell the Archbishop how he should or should not behave amongst his peers.

What he could do as his knight was give him a stern scolding for overworking himself, neglecting a proper, restful sleep and advise him to make more use of his own services. Gustave would happily burn the midnight oil alongside Byleth, for as long as these old bones of his allowed him to.

Still, Gustave's body betrayed the scolding his mind had prepared by simply procuring a blanket to place over Byleth's shoulder, not wanting him to catch a chill during the night.

"Mhm," Byleth groaned in his sleep, suddenly much more comfortable than before, his body sinking even deeper into the papers -- a perpetual ink stain attaching itself over his left cheek.

"Hah," Gustave chuckled lowly, daring to take a tuft of hair from Byleth's eyes, placing it behind his warm ear. "Let's get you away from there, shall we... Byleth?" He murmured as though he was saying something forbidden, the name of his new liege something he dared say very little lest he became much too used to the way it rolled around his tongue.

Carefully, the man bent down to pick the Archbishop up in his arms, making sure to put Byleth's head on his own shoulder so as not to wake him up. He weighed so little for a man who held the burden of the entire church on his shoulders! A slender, fragile-looking frame that hid such a bottomless strength of heart, soul and body.

Deep in his sleep, Byleth snuggled himself in the warmth of Gustave's chest, his serene smile growing as he mumbled incomprehensible sleep talk. Not to mention the smudged ink obviously marking his cheek.

Clearing his throat, Gustave tore his eyes away from the adorable sight, adjusting the younger man over his arms one last time before making his way to the Archbishop's chambers.

"May your sleep always be this peaceful, Byleth. I shall do everything in my power to protect this serenity." Gustave's low voice rumbled in his chest, making Byleth groggily nod at it.

Reaching the nearby chambers, Gustave struggled to open the door for a good five minutes, not wanting to move Byleth too much to open it with one of his hands but unable to muster the flexibility to do it with one foot.

After a while, the knight gave up, quietly pressing his shoulder -- protecting Byleth's body with his arm -- on the door so as to use one hand to turn the handle. It did so with a loud bang, slipping from his fingers since his grasp on it was weak.

Panicking, the knight flinched, quickly checking the status of Byleth's sleep.

"Mhm..." The Archbishop slightly moved in Gustave's arm, snuggling deeper into the older man's chest.

"Hahhh..." Gustave sighed in relief, now worried that his thunderous heartbeat could aid in waking Byleth up. "Being this clumsy at my age; what a disgrace," he snorted in spite of himself, making large, silent strides towards the bed.

He softly placed the Archbishop atop the mattress, careful and masterfully stripping him of his coat and boots before finally laying him down fully, finally covering him with the thick blanket.

Puffing his chest for a job well done, Gustave once again smiled at the sight of the vulnerable side of Byleth's only him could see. "Good night, my liege." He whispered before turning on his heel to leave, this time soundlessly closing the door behind him. "Sweet dreams, Byleth." He said to the dark wood, placing his forehead on its cool surface.

From inside the room, over the bed and under the blanket, Byleth covered his face with both hands, his face burning so much he teared up. "G-good night, Gustave."

The following morning, Byleth was unable to meet his knight's sight for more than ten seconds, quickly averting his gaze while blurtering this or that excuse.

"Have I done something to offend you, my liege?" Gustave approached the matter as Byleth knew he would, no later than early afternoon as they walked through the corridors towards the mess hall.

Flinching, Byleth cleared his throat. "I, uh, had a- a dream, yes. I had a dream last night." He mentally patted himself on the back for the smooth save, but somehow felt as though he could hear Sothis groaning in disgust at the back of his mind. Strange feeling, though, since he hadn't heard of her since she imparted her power on him, six years ago.

"A dream, Archbishop?" Gustave tilted his head downwards, his long braid dangling right into Byleth's point of view. "Is that related to me in any way? I have noticed you've yet to meet my gaze today..."

Byleth's eyes trailed away from Gustave, towards the opposing wall of the corridor. "Will you not call me by my name?" He said in a squeak so low it made Gustave squint as though he could understand by heightening his vision.

"Pardon?"

"I-" Byleth breathed deeply, trying to bring his usual inner peace. "I heard you call my name in my dream." He blurted out, proud that he managed to sound much more composed than he actually was.

"Oh." Gustave straightened his back, clearing his throat. "Did you now?"

"Strange, though," the Archbishop scratched his head, trying to play coy. "I never actually heard you call me by my name, but in my dream... it was so real."

"Must I have a talk with the Gustave of your dreams, my liege? To address someone of your stature with such familiarity is unthinkable."

Byleth mentally choked, his face exploding in embarrassment. He was glad he kept it away from the knight the entire time. "The 'Gustave of my dreams', huh?" he cleared his throat.

The realization of how suggestive that sounded made even the seasoned knight feel the heat rising to his cheeks, quickly dispelling it with a cough. "Why, was he not? If I never called you by your name, the only one who could have had done so was he."

"Silly," Byleth mumbled, hiding a tiny smile behind his hand. "Even though the Gustave of my dreams is right here."

"I wouldn't advise mumbling while looking away from someone, my liege. It shows a true lack of respect-"

Byleth turned to the corridor in front of them in a sudden, flashy movement, stealing the words from Gustave's lips. "I was saying that I simply wanted to hear the real Gustave, the one in front of me, to say my name, since the one in my dreams made me curious about it." He almost pouted, making the knight feel a twinge inside his chest.

"That I cannot do, my liege."

The reply was so readily given it made Byleth's heart fall faster than he was prepared to. "Because I am the Archbishop and you're a knight, so it would be disrespectful to?"

"Indeed." He nodded solemnly, his steps heavy beside Byleth's light ones.

Sighing, Byleth's shoulders hung slightly. "And if I weren't Archbishop? Before I even had any influence you still only called me 'Professor' even though you weren't my student."

Gustave hesitated for a beat. He knew the answer to that; of course he did.

But it wasn't one that he could give. It wasn't one he was allowed to give, not while he was still so unworthy of thinking about a happy future as he was.

Of course, it was because of Byleth that Gustave could even start thinking about the future without letting the past take the best of him, but... A decade of guilt wasn't so easily washed away. He wasn't going to be okay after only three years under Byleth's service; under his constant light and serenity.

He wasn't going to think himself worthy of being happy, not while he still hadn't repaid for the grief he had caused to the ones he loved -- to the ones he had left behind.

"I am simply giving respect where it is due, Archbishop." He replied after only taking a short breath, the torrent of thoughts, regrets and phantom feelings washing him over despite the lack of expression he showed.

"..." Byleth kept silent, the small slouch showing that he still wore a slight pout over his lips; not that Gustave could see them for he always walked a step behind his liege. To keep himself in his own place.

They reached the mess hall in silence, retiring to their usual spot at a corner. Byleth sat down as Gustave took it upon himself -- as always -- to go fetch their provisions.

Eating at the mess hall amongst all other residents of Garreg Mach monastery had always been one of the few pleasures Byleth managed to keep after becoming Archbishop. Well, it was under no shortage of grumbling from his knight, sure, but it was a hard fought win for the former professor, so he always held those precious moments close to his heart.

Even at that moment, his head down and his gaze unwilling to meet Gustave's, he still cherished watching his knight's impeccable table manners from under his bangs.

It was foolish of him, perhaps even childish, to get his hopes up after a simple name-sharing, bed-placing sluggish night -- Gustave might as well have been treating him like he did Annette for all Byleth knew. Calling a younger person, although of higher bearing, by their name during a time they could not hear just to show how apart they were in maturity.

Or something.

Byleth groaned, resting his pounding forehead on the back of his hand which still held the fork. He knew Gustave. He wasn't like that. He wouldn't admonish someone because of their age!

But then, what did last night mean, if not a wish for something more to happen?

Was that all wishful thinking from Byleth's part? If he looked at the scene from a bystander's eyes, would he only see a proper knight caring for his liege? Byleth had had his share of knight-watching from his time as a teacher at the academy, and even more so during the war.

He had seen Dedue do almost the same thing with Dimitri -- trying and failing to carry him as he slept, making him food as he woke up, being always there for whichever need the Prince could have... Byleth had witnessed such undying display of loyalty many, many times.

Was it what that was? Loyalty? Duty?

Byleth wanted to paint the picture in a rosy hue, but even Gustave himself had so earnestly denied the matter mere moments ago. He shouldn't think too much into it. He shouldn't hope. His heart should not flutter like this with the memory of how good it felt to hear his name in Gustave's voice.

How warm and strong the knight's arms were, and how easily he was carried through the corridors. How caring Gustave had been during it all, even embarrassing himself in being uncharacteristically clumsy.

There was no way Byleth could forget, neither brush it off as simple loyalty! And yet... Gustave's readied denial made the Archbishop's heart fall every time his brain replayed the scene.

A warm hand over his own made Byleth pull away in panic, quickly lifting his head. "Hu-weh?" He blurted out, his face devoid of color.

Gustave immediately retracted his touch, fearing he had disgusted the poor Archbishop with his vain attempt of carefully calling for his attention.

"Forgive me for my rudeness, my liege." He bowed slightly, hand over his own chest. "But you've barely touched your food. Is there truly nothing more worrying you?"

Huffing, Byleth felt his vision split from how fast his heart was beating. For a moment he thought Gustave had seen through his deepest desires and accepted him. Or rejected him.

Byleth didn't know what would be worse for his heart.

"I'm... fine." He said after a while, twirling the fork between his fingers before holding it properly so as to finally eat. "But I have something to say once we go back to my office."

"I will listen to any of your commands, my liege." Gustave concurred gracefully, his expression stern as usual, though only a trained eye could notice how his brow flickered slightly at the mention of the talk.

They once again walked in silence through the halls as they headed back to Byleth's study.

"I believe there was something you wished to tell me?" Gustave crossed his arms behind his back, his posture erect and impeccable.

In contrast to Byleth's slight slouch. "I have, yes." He said as he entered the door Gustave promptly opened for him. "You should visit your family." He said after taking three steps inside, not bothering to look back.

Which had been a mistake on his part, for he missed the look of utter shock and loneliness that ran so quick across Gustave face it was as though it had never been there. "My liege...? Have I displeased you so deeply that you would send me away?"

"Oh, come now." Byleth forced a smile as he circled his desk so as to sit behind it. "You haven't gone in a while, right? Actually, I think you only went two or three times after you started serving me here, three years and a half ago, I believe? They must miss you so very dearly."

Gustave felt as though Byleth's words were shoving him back into his place; back into where he belonged. Where he should have put himself at with more energy.

Of course, thoughts of his family never left his mind. Why, just earlier today he remembered how much Annette and Allinda enjoyed a good cup of tea with honey before a meal to 'open up' their appetites, as they liked to say... But those were far-away thoughts, memories he could barely grasp with the tip of fingers.

They were always at the back of his mind, yes.

But Byleth had always been at the front, especially lately.

Hearing Byleth himself mention his family made Gustave feel as though he had been betraying someone, though he wasn't certain whom. Himself? Byleth? His wife, Allinda? Annette? King Lambert?

The list of people Gustave had to live for to repay his sins was as long as the years it would take him to do so, which made him only wish to be able to live that long to see it all done.

From a parent and estranged husband's standpoint, there was absolutely no reason to refuse Byleth's order. Why, he would be able to go back to see how much his homeland had changed under King Dimitri's rule and spend time with his family.

Yet, his heart refused, bickering within his chest as though it were a crying child wanting to be tended to. Gustave opened and closed his mouth, a bitter taste preventing him to speak for a moment of two, but quickly regaining his composure. "As I do them, Archbishop." He said in a clear voice, piercing Byleth's heart. "However, I cannot simply go and leave you unattended-"

"My duties will keep me here at the monastery for a good part of the semester, as you know." Byleth interrupted, wanting to hide from Gustave's sight lest he started wailing and begging for him to stay instead. "I promise I'll summon you once I'm in need of your services -- at the upcoming summit with the western church."

That meeting was scheduled to happen in five months! Byleth was truly sending Gustave away like that-

"We can meet in Fhirdiad, halfway to the Western-" the Archbishop continued, not giving the knight the luxury of even think straight.

"I must refuse." Gustave said immediately, finally remembering he could walk towards Byleth's desk.

"Gustave?" The Archbishop looked up to the approaching man, his heart racing. Why was he so intent on staying? He should be happy to see his family-

"I refuse meeting halfway, my liege. I will not allow you to leave Garreg Mach without my personal escort. It was because I agreed to meet King Lambert in Duscur that the tragedy happened. I will not allow it to happen again; not while I still draw enough breath to protect you."

Blinking, Byleth felt elated and disappointed at the same time -- happy to be held in such high regard by Gustave, but sad that the other man wasn't saying he would rather not leave altogether.

"... Very well," he looked down to the papers on his desk, already neatly organized after this morning's meetings. "Then I shall grant you leave to be with your family, but I want you to return fifteen days prior to my departure to the Western Church. That should be enough time to let you in on all formations and details. Is that acceptable?"

Gustave bowed deeply, one hand over his chest. "It is, my liege. It's most magnanimous of you to take my family in consideration during such a turbulent time of your new post." He straightened his back swiftly, his serious gaze almost piercing through Byleth's regretful one. "Then I shall take my leave to prepare for the trip. I shall send a letter to precede my arrival, as well."

Byleth simply nodded, lowering his head so he wouldn't see the knight leaving. His heart was heavy enough with only listening to the strong steps becoming more and more distant, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Gustave left the room with a renewed sense of guilt -- how dare he get complacent in his thoughts of atonement! How dare he start to enjoy his time at the monastery while there were people he had hurt waiting for his return so he could pay for his sins?

How... how dare he.

His jaw was numb so hard did he grit his teeth, his fists clenched with such strength they trembled. How dare he.

The day Gustave departed, Byleth didn't go see him at the gate. Instead, he watched from atop the Goddess Tower as the knight left with an uncharacteristic hunch on his back, mounted on his horse towards the frigid Fhirdiad.

It hurt to see him go.

It hurt to have him close.

It hurt, hurt, hurt... "Oh, Father..." Byleth choked a tearless sob, holding the ring Jeralt had given him a lifetime ago. "Forgive me... I don't think I'll be able to pass on this ring after all." He clutched it close to his chest, looking at the same spot Gustave had pledged allegiance to him over three years ago.

Byleth could feel the warmth of that same sun, the dazzling sunset painting Gustave's hair in a purple light engraving itself into his own heart, never to leave. He would never forget that day, for as long as he lived. He had known, ever since the day he started carrying the ring to present it to his love, that he would never be able to do it to anyone but Gustave.

A man plagued by a life of dragging guilt.

A man whose smile came easily whenever he saw a child having fun. A man who was stern regarding meals, but lenient when it came to letting Byleth indulge into a snack or two.

He was stern most of the time, his hardened expression already dug into his face from wearing it daily over the years -- but whenever it all broke down to show his smile it only made Byleth feel his knees grow weak and his throat want to cry out.

Warm tears rolled from Byleth's cheeks; tears his skin hadn't felt in a long, long time. "It hurts so much, Father... Tell me what I should do!" his knees gave out in front of the balcony, the memory of a dusk-painted Gustave flooding his mind. He had suppressed these feelings for so, so very long.

So long did he try to wear the mask of a mature man; to be seen as an equal by Gustave. To be acknowledged. To... to be loved.

Loved by the man he oh so desperately wanted, but was the last man on the land he could ever hope to have. So cruel was the fate of a man who wanted nothing more than to share in the warmth of the one he oh so cherished...

He cried four years' worth of tears, his fingers cramping with the strength he used to hold onto the small ring. Day turned to afternoon, the Archbishop unmoving from his spot, a faraway thought at the back of his mind telling him that people would be freaking out looking for him at that moment. His eyes red from crying for so long, Byleth slowly directed his gaze to his closed hands, struggling to pry them open from their cramping position.

Once again he looked at the ring he was never going to share with his love, watching how it stared back at him.

In the six months that followed, Gustave devoted himself to doing whatever his family desired, as though they were his new lieges instead of his own flesh and blood.

Annette complained a lot at first, forcefully trying to make him act more natural around them, but it turned out to be rather difficult. Gustave wasn't the same man he was in the past. It was as though he had truly turned into Gilbert -- a hardened man that hadn't seen his family in so long he forgot how to interact with them without apologizing for every misstep; or indulging their every wish.

Being once again reunited with Allinda made Gustave's heart sink, but don't get him wrong. He loved and thought the world of her. She was a bright woman who managed to raise their child alongside his brother, despite holding onto the hope that her husband would come back after so long. He held her dearly close into his heart, their bonds of friendship certainly ones that would never break.

Hence the guilt in Gustave's heart. He loved Allinda as his dear friend. He wasn't supposed to feel that way towards the woman whose life he most certainly ruined. He had to love her and make up to all of the years he made her wait and suffer for him.

Yet, he could only softly hold her hand and kiss her forehead whenever they met, his heart wanting her near, but not too close.

Gustave started noticing his own shift of behavior towards his wife only after Byleth forcefully sent him there -- for the past four years he had been visiting, never did he think something was wrong.

But it was.

Allinda and Annette both realized it, but it was as though they wanted him to realize it himself instead.

The way he always looked out of the window whenever he came home, waiting for the courier to bring the message that it was time to return to the monastery.

The way he cared for them from a safe distance, as though there were an invisible barrier around his heart that neither of them could get too close to.

The way his smile would wear a bright glint whenever he spoke of his time at the monastery.

They both knew it, but they wanted him to figure it out by himself.

This time they spent together was precious, don't get them wrong. It was a time they were making up for the decade they lost -- and although the exact same atmosphere couldn't be brought out, they could still get along as a family with a bond just as strong yet inherently different.

The day the message finally came for Gustave to return to the monastery, the knight unconsciously wore the brightest smile Allinda had seen him bear in over twenty years -- perhaps ever since Annette had been born, really.

It was the smile of a man going back to where he belonged -- to be alongside the one he had placed his heart with.

She patted his shoulder. "You don't need to hold yourself back for me, you know."

The letter fell flat on the floor, such was Gustave's surprise. "Allinda-"

"I'm glad you finally noticed, too, good grief." She crossed her arms playfully. "Even Annette was getting tired of waiting."

Gustave held both of Allinda's hands. "I cannot- Allinda, the pain I've caused you-"

"Honestly, the way you are now is only going to bring me MORE pain. I'd rather see you smiling truthfully during your time here than only when it's time for you to go. And if you can only smile when you talk about the Archbishop, then so be it." She rubbed her thumbs over his hands, glad to be able to have this conversation with a level head. If she had tried to say these same words seven years ago, she would be throwing a fit.

But now she was okay.

They were okay.

Gustave's head drooped in shame, his face contorting into an expression he couldn't quite explain. "Allinda-"

"Shh, save your tears for your man." She dried an odd tear or two from his cheeks, squeezing his hand with her other one. "I'm not saying you shouldn't come back -- I still hold you dear into my heart and wouldn't want to lose a friend -- I just don't want you to feel obligated to be with me because of the past. It's fine already."

His chin trembling, Gustave dared wrap his arms around Allinda, softly sobbing by her shoulder. He hadn't the words to thank nor apologize, the burden of the overpowering guilt he felt slowly, ever so slowly dissipating from his back.

During the journey back, Gustave procured an item that he would most certainly need once he returned to the monastery. One that he should have given Byleth four years ago, but was much of a coward to do so then.

Yet, Byleth wasn't there to welcome him once he came back.

But it didn't matter.

He felt a youthful spring in his step as he climbed the Goddess Tower, the deepest, most romantic part of his heart telling him that Byleth would be there waiting for him, much like before.

His lungs burning from the strenuous climb, Gustave wheezed once he reached the top, the afternoon light coloring Byleth's hair in a dazzling purple. An intricate ring hung by the Archbishop's neck as a makeshift necklace, making the knight's gaze turn to it momentarily.

"G-Gustave! How did you know I-" Byleth stuttered, quickly hiding the ring from his sight.

Panting, slowly regaining his breath, Gustave tried to straighten his back to no avail. "I have come... to renew my vow to you... Byleth."

Looking away from the knight, it took more than a minute for Gustave's words to ring into Byleth's heart. "Your knightly vows, I'm presuming?"

"No." Gustave smiled, his eyebrows deep with worry and regret. The Archbishop didn't even flinch with the mention of his name, after all that scene from half a year ago...

"Then...?"

Gustave took out the small box which contained the ring he had bought for his beloved, solemnly presenting it to him. "Forgive me for not kneeling, my lie- no, my beloved, for I think that if I were to do it now after running all these stairs I would not be able to get up."

Byleth's hands fell limp on either side of his body, the ring dangling by his necklace. "This- I- Gustave- Your family-"

"Alas," the knight smiled, taking a step towards his liege and love. He relished on seeing how Byleth didn't move and simply raised his chin so their eye contact wouldn't break. "It was my ex-wife who had to give me the push I needed to do this, I am ashamed to admit."

Surely thinking he was dreaming, Byleth placed both hands over Gustave's chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat, their eyes never leaving one another. "To do 'this' what? Gustave, you need to say everything or else I'll keep believing you'll swear to be my knight again, but now with rings!"

"Hah!" The knight threw his head back. "I may have traumatized you, have I not, my love? Forgive me for being such a stubborn old man for so long... Allow me to say it fully: I love you, Byleth, and have been in love with you for quite some time now. Forgive me for denying these feelings for so long; but I will be yours right at this moment if you'll be mine for as long as this lifespan of mine allows."

Byleth slammed his head into Gustave's chest, making the older man let out a strangled 'oof!'. "You're so slow! By the goddess, it took you long enough!" He sniffled, gripping at the ring by his neck. "I love you so much I still think this is a dream."

"Allow me to disperse such thoughts, then?" Gustave said, slowly lifting Byleth's chin with his index, intertwining their breaths as their lips brushed against one another.

Byleth felt his tears itching down his cheeks, his legs trembling so much he felt faint. But once he closed his eyes to finally enjoy the rough, delicate kiss of his beloved Gustave, everything felt right again.

They would exchange rings and finally accept each other's feelings... But for now, they would enjoy that overly due, much needed, sweet kiss. The first one that would mark the beginning of the love of their lives.

#gilbert fire emblem #gilbert x m!byleth #byleth #fire emblem three houses #fe 3h #spoilers #fe 3h spoilers #my writings #yuki's commissions

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strangeliiz · 6 years ago

Text

OS IronStrange - All time, all places. Always and Forever.

Note : As I repeat every time I write something, I’m French, and I’m doing the translation all by myself so once again, if there are mistakes I am so sorry... And I hope You’ll like this !

A long, slow breath. That was all we could hear in this big house, not far from the sea. Everything else was silent.

They had lived here for at least a decade, after finally getting married. If you knew the time it took them ... Between their feelings, hard to confess and the world to save, Stephen Strange and Tony Stark had a hard time finishing up like this. After years of protecting the world, the genius had decided to buy a small, isolated house near the water in a quiet place. And they had lived so many things there ... Both of them were now sitting in the living room couch. Tony had his head on Stephen's shoulder and looked exhausted. He had spent most of his life being generous, he had nearly died many times, but had always made it fine. He was now in his seventies.

Stephen had an arm around Tony. Although he was a little younger than his husband, magic had slowed down his metabolism, to the point that for the moment he still had the strength of a forty-year-old man even though he was in his sixties. They were happy, and they could finally have time for them, although the Sorcerer Supreme still had his duties. Everything was fine. Or almost. The long breath of the one who was once Iron Man was more and more disturbing, a sign that he was getting weaker every moment.

He knew he would soon be gone. Life had not been kind to him: his childhood, alcohol, sleepless nights, stress, trauma and almost died many time had significantly reduced his life expectancy. He was very happy to have lived so far with the man he loved. Gently, Tony looked up at Stephen, with a smile on his face. The latter turned to him, a sad look on his face. He looked like he had cried but had quickly wiped away his tears. The genius however didn't see it.

" Stephen ? Can I ask you a question ?”

" Go ahead Tony.”

With bright eyes, the sorcerer was watching his husband, who caught his breath to formulate his question.

" Would you marry me again ?”

The Doctor smiled weakly. The answer to the question was obvious. Nervously, his left hand moved, playing with the wedding ring he wore. This kind of question was really made inTony Stark : he needed to be reassured about their relationship, even at this age, even if they were already married. It was kind of a little game between them. So his lover was playing it and answered.

" Yes Tony. Always.”

He answered in a soft tone, a tone that Tony particularly liked. Oh, how he loved his wizard ... He did not regret for a second that he married him. Then, he rose his face a little to tenderly kiss his husband, as if to seal their union again.

“I love you Stephen.”

Slowly, Tony rested his head on Stephen's shoulder. The latter had tears running down his cheeks, while there was only silence. Then, nothing. It was only a moment after he slowly turned his head to see his soul mate's eyes, they were empty. Without life.

" I love you too Tony...” He breathed softly

Stephen expired a long time as he cried. His body was shaking. He was alone. His love had just left him, after saying soft words. After this exhausting, happy, sad but amazing life, he was gone. The Sorcerer Supreme laid a kiss on the genius's head, while tears were still making their way down his cheeks. He was alone. This was how he had spent part of his life, and after finding his soulmate, he was going to have to return to this solitude, his soul hurt. Damn pain ...

After he let himself go and cried for a long time, the Doctor sat up on the couch and blew as he positioned his hands in front of him, concentrating. The Eye of Agamotto, that artifact he was constantly wearing around his neck opened, leaving a green glow appear. He knew the gestures. By heart. And he did them precisely.

Tick tock. The Time Stone activated and manipulated, the guardian went back, changing time. Life came back in Tony's eyes, his Tony, and he set time back as the Eye closed.

_________

“Stephen ? Can I ask you a question ?”

" Go ahead Tony.”

" Would you marry me again ?”

" Yes Tony. Always.”

" I love you Stephen.”

Tick tock. Silence. No more life. Tears and pain.

" I love you too Tony.”

Pain. Love. The end. The tears. Pain. Always the pain. Those feelings. This damn pain while he felt only loneliness. Tick tock. The Eye opened. There was this green glow and the Time Stone. Time went back a few moments, and life was again breathed into the genius's body.

" Can I ask you a question ?”

That look. This look that Stephen did not want to leave. No, he didn't want to leave it.

" Would you marry me again ?”

Then the positive answer. It would always be positive. The kiss was so sweet. A kiss between two husbands, two people who loved each other.

" I love you Stephen.”

" I love you too Tony.”

Oh, if he knew ... That love was beating Time. The tears again. And that pain ... It was worse than a dagger in the heart. That pain ... The pain of these words, of saying thoses. And in the end ... This love flew away at the same time as life.

Tick tock. Back in time again. Same conversation. Same words. And always that pain. Stephen wanted to scream. But he preferred to come back and see his husband alive again. It didn't matter the price of magic. He was paying it constantly. And now again. How many times had he used the Stone exactly? How many times had he seen Tony died? How many times had he heard and repeated the same words? How many tears had flowed? No idea. Twenty times maybe. No.... Surely more. One hundred. Maybe a thousand. A million. He no longer had the notion of time. It wasn't a time loop. He just went back in time to avoid the death of his husband being too real

As the wizard was about to start the process again, the front door crashed open. This was changing the moment ... It didn't happen before. He looked up and Stephen looked at his visitors. Wong, Wanda Maximoff and Thor came in and stood in front of the Sorcerer Supreme.

"That's enough," declared Wong, " You're going to jeopardize the balance of time if it's not already done. And you're probably going to kill yourself Stephen.”

"What are you doing here? " The Doctor said.

"We came to help you my friend" The God of Thunder replied.

As Wong approached Stephen, Stephen turned his head to his husband, sniffing slightly. Wanda and Thor stayed behind, watching the wizard.

"I don't need help" The Supreme Sorcerer finally said.

" Yes you do Stephen" Wong replied, " You've been doing this for too long... You must let him go."

"I don't want to. I don't want to..."

Gently, he stroked the hair of his husband, who still had his head on his shoulder. He knew exactly what his visitors had come to do. Besides, he was surprised that they knew it. As he went back in time, again and again, nothing or nobody should have realized it except him. He then asked them how they knew, and how they managed to come despite the time jump each time.

"I felt the change. And I immediately warned friends who would be less affected " Wong replied.

Stephen barely glanced at them. Of course, his friend had known, he knew how the stone worked. And even if it was difficult to counterback, he didn't doubt that his colleague had managed to find a something in order to come here. Thor was a God, he didn't doubt that he was more resistant, and He knew the Infinity Stones. As for to the Scarlet Witch, she knew mental manipulations, so she must had felt some sensations of déjà vu.

"Doctor ..." the young woman started, " You have to stop ...

"No..."

"You're hurting yourself Strange, " Thor added as he came closer, "I fully understand the situation .... No one wants to lose someone we love ...."

" So you do understand why I do this " The Sorcerer Supreme retorted..

" I do, but you have to let him go, you can't do this forever, the stone could kill you ..."

" At least I'll join him."

" Don't say that Stephen ..." Wong interfered.

Surely, nothing would change Stephen's mind. He didn't want to stop. Stopping this meant letting Tony go, and no, he didn't want to. He had lived so many things ... Had so many losses. And now that his life was a little quieter, this, this was his only source of happiness. No. This time, he didn't want to lose a part of himself again. He broke the nature laws, magic laws, and the oath he had taken to use the Time Stone only in extreme cases. Wong and Thor were right in front of Stephen now, Wanda staying a little behind. And the wizard knew very well what they were doing. They wanted to take from him the only thing that allowed him to stay with his husband. Immediately, the Sorcerer Supreme put his hand on the Eye of Agamotto.

"Stephen ... Give it to us... " Wong said.

"Or what ?"

"We don't want to force you," The God of Thunder replied.

" But that's why you're here isn't it ?"

Stephen shot an accusing look at the two Avengers. It was obvious, and the two weren't hiding it. As Wong. Wanda finally stepped forward, a little shyly, in front of the wizard too, while some red light appear in her hands.

" I don't want to do this Doctor ... But we have no choice. "

" Do you know that manipulating me is a difficult thing Maximoff? "

" I do. But I only want to help you. I can ... soften this. "

While a tear fell again on the cheek of the former neurosurgeon, he had a lost look, then more thoughtful for a few moments. He knew the abilities of the witch, and even if he didn't want to leave Tony ... The proposal seemed fair. They were his friends, yes. But Tony was his love, the only one he ever had. He released the Eye and looked at the three visitors with bright, red eyes.

"Just once. Only one last time."

" I'm sorry Stephen ..." Wong said, shaking his head gently.

The latter then signaled to the young brunette and she quickly put her hand in front of the Sorcerer Supreme, using her powers to interact with Stephen's mind. The man asked again to say goodbye to Tony before he just stopped talking. As Wanda was slow to reach Stephen's mind because of all his mystical protections, she managed to do it anyway. It made her feel bad to have to manipulate the man like that, and she didn't want it. It was Wong's last resort.

The Supreme wizard shook his head as the tears ran down again. He didn't want. He just wanted to hear his beloved one again. He wanted to see him alive. He didn't want to, and wasn't ready to let him go yet. However, as he tried to resist the young woman's magic, he felt that he couldn't hold out very long. Gently, Wanda's magic snicked up into Stephen's mind. He had no choice but to lower his hand, while Wong took the Eye. It was over. No more time manipulation. The Sorcerer Supreme turned his head one last time towards his dead husband, his eyes watering. He wouldn't hear it anymore. He would never see his brown eyes sparkle when he had an idea anymore. He wouldn't see that smirk he was had when he was teasing him. His hands would never gently caress his own to try to calm his tremor anymore. He wouldn't feel his lips again. No more.

“ Tony...”

Stephen murmured softly as his eyes slowly closed. Wanda made him fall asleep to calm him down, and manage him when he woke up. No way she makes him forget, or she gives him the illusion of having continued. Just the reality. There was no need to make him suffer even more. He then falls asleep, leaving a silence in the room for a moment. Then, Wong looked at Cloak of Levitation. The artefact knew immediately what she had to do. She gently surrounded her owner to lift it, and to make him fly.

" I'm going to bring him back to the Sanctum." The wizard declared, " It's better if he wakes up there. "

"I'm bringing Tony back to the Avengers HQ in the meantime, " Thor said gently, lifting the body of his friend, " We'll have to ...."

" We'll see that when we get there and later Thor " Wanda interrupted, seeing that the God was looking for his words.

Aprouving with a gesture of the head, the blond then carried Tony. Wong opened a portal, and the three disappeared, with the Cloak wearing the Sorcerer Supreme. As he slept deeply, Stephen saw himself with Tony again. They were on the roof of the Avengers building, and were smiling at each other. Surprisingly, the Doctor knew it was a dream. But that didn't stop him from taking the genius one last time in his arms, to say goodbye, to tell him how much he was already missing him. In truth, Wanda had manipulated his mind so that Stephen would be aware that he was dreaming, and that he would see Tony one last time, calmly and tenderly.

"Goodbye Tony.... I love you. In all time, all places. Always and forever. "

#IronStrange #Marvel #marvel cinematic universe #doctor strange #iron man #Tony Stark #Stephen Strange #writing #wanda maximoff #thor odinson #thor #infinity war #infinity stones

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eleart2019 · 5 years ago

Text

A wedding invitation

Vampires....

While a new chapter opened, an old one was about to be closed. The parlour was squalid to say the least, in its artificial gothic pomposity; a fact that seemed to escape her. But then, she liked the grit, squalor of the low lives, the perdition of their bodies and souls, as lost as hers, she thrived in the decadence of the flesh and spirit. It had not always been so, yet those times were far, she was well aware of that. Once, she had been a creature of the sun…then it had all been imposed on her, the inevitable change and chemistry that made her vampire. She had wanted it…no, what she had wanted was Julian’s love. Desperately so. She had been struck, hit, devoured by his will and want, and all had been lost. Better not dwell on the mechanics, they escaped her anyway…

From the adjoining room, through a screen, she spied the guests coming in: there was her mother, Faye, who had aged, badly. Her beautiful face was sagged, her body a bit curved: Sarah could almost discern what were the lines sorrow and loss caused. She watched attentively the human woman who had given birth to her, her slow movements, her resignation to old age and a life ordinary. Yes, resigned, that’s what she was, resigned. Her two sisters and their children, all in their late twenties now. What beautiful youths they had become! What energy, what life force! She could almost see herself in the girl, actually, there was something of auntie Sarah in Jenny: she wasn’t surprised, if she had been like that, of Julian’s choice. She could almost eat Jenny herself.

Then her brother, Syd, who had been only eighteen when she vanished in thin air, or so they thought. She had not vanished…she had morphed. She had vanished from their lives, that is true. She wondered, would they be shocked, horrified, if they could see her life as a film? The kill, the hunting, the blood, the thirst…the darkness.

She could also hear some of their conversations, and the puzzlement of finding themselves in a ‘wedding shop’, these quick Las Vegas churches, in the whore’s part of town: this one sporting dark tones, coffins-fake- and red drapes, in theme with a gothic wedding, between two vampires, although the latter was not common knowledge.

“I hope this is not a joke” she heard Syd whisper into their sister’s ear- Amelie- and look at his mum, who was bent in emotional agony- yet accepting of anything that may come. She had been beaten a long time before, there was no game to lose or win. Finding Sarah, alive, might be a beautiful end to a somehow very ordinary existence. Her dreams, dead long ago. Death, coming, not next year, or the next, but soon. With that, release: that she hope for, every Sunday, at the local church, listening to the pastor talk about eternal life and salvation…release.

But what about eternal death, had she considered that? Was it true, or was it a joke, a really bad joke? The writing on the letter did, indeed, belong to Sarah. Her tone had seemed sincere, she was alive-that was a blatant lie, Sarah reasoned, but she could only speak their language-and wanted to invite them to her impending wedding, where they would all be reunited. Fair enough…but after 25 years? The letter had, of course, caused happiness and great outrage.

Faye, Sarah noticed, clutched something in her hands…Julian’s father, Jim, entered the room, not disguising a sense of almost revulsion at the sight of the tacky gothic décor.

“I’d expect Count Dracula to come out at any moment” he said, sarcastically to a youth at his side. “If his mother could see this, she would die again” he then added.

The youth didn’t respond, quite, he winced, uncomfortably so.

“Typical Julian, what an arsehole he can be sometimes” Jim muttered to himself, before realising that Faye and her family was also there.

Oh, yes, Count Dracula! She had heard of him indeed. Jim didn’t know how near his predictions were to the truth! It was almost dark outside…time for the vampires to come out of hiding?

“Why do you do this?” Julian whispered, gently in Sarah’s ear, joining her as she watched the screen, watched the people. It wasn’t a real question…there was almost something ironic in his asking.

“We need, Julian, a vampire family. We have always been family people, you and I, if I recall” she smiled, her fangs shining in the semidarkness, for some very strange effect of the light. “Family, you can always rely upon”

She turned, very quickly, standing: Julian and Sarah were face to face, their bodies almost touching, their lips equally so. An energy, a frisson, run through their bodies and beings, and a promise of ‘later’ in their eyes…the guest had all arrived. Show must begin…she looked at the nearby control panel, and remembered what the man on duty, now a corpse in the nearby chair, had explained. His helper, a girl who was already showing signs of ageing, also lay in the room, nearby. Sarah had arranged her in a sleeping position, on the sofa by the door. She had placed a fake flower between her hands, which were smeared in blood, like her neck and face, the eyes wide open…you could still read terror in there. Lovely.

“Sleeping beauty” she whispered, aimed at the girl, passing by the door. Good that she had good memory, with the keyboard.

She put some music on…the sound was eerie, distant, and the guests, in spite of their emotions and scepticism, could not but focus their attention on things to happen.

Julian let her run this show…weddings, were after all, a favourite with women. A girl’s best day: was Sarah any exception? Obviously not! She looked as excited as a kid! Why deprive her of such joy. He knew who she was…

The vampires entered the room, and locked the door behind them. The wedding room was effectively sealed, with no escape if one needed to. That was cause of excitement and worry, it’s funny how the two emotions do mix so well, overlapping almost. Of course, they didn’t imagine a thing, they could have not known in a million years what was to happen shortly. A good family wedding.

Julian and Sarah walked forward, finally appearing from the semidarkness, almost blending in it, through their dark clothes. Their pallor was remarkable though, especially in the dim light.

The people gasped: the room was alive with tormented emotions, joy, sorrow, surprise, disgust…love. They were here because they loved Julian and Sarah. They would be rewarded for that. Jim stood up, anger being the emotion that possessed him, chiefly; the others clustered around Faye, worried what Sarah’s sight might do to her weak heart; the younger members of the party’s main focus was curiosity. To them, aunt Sarah was a somehow mythical figure, a sort of saint who had vanished, probably killed or kidnapped, a virginal figure who had, most likely, met a most horrific and horrible death, in family mythology. The solution of the mystery was near. This was a such a peculiar and weird situation.

Jim was really pissed off. The past few months had been horrific, he knew Julian was alive, he was just an ass. Leaving the force like that! After this flousie! No matter what they thought, Saint Sarah was a bitch in his book. Disappearing my ass, the bitch had run away with somebody else, of that he had always been convinced. All these thoughts were running in Jim’s head as the happy couple made their entrance. Again, Sarah, in registering, noticed how near Jim was to the truth. The man must have some hidden and undeveloped intuitive ability, pity people didn’t take him too seriously. Pity, really.

“She’s dressed for a funeral!” Amelie’s daughter, Bella, whispered into her brother’s ear…her eyes, if anything, betrayed fascination. Not so Jim’s, who by them was positively fuming, but stayed seated, reserving his rage for later…no time like the present, Jim.

Amelie and Cora, at each at Faye’s side, held her, one her hand, the other her arm: the old frail woman was seated speechless, looking at her lost daughter, who was slowly emerging from behind the altar, all dressed in black, a long gothic skirt and a corset; a tall man next to her…Julian.

“The wanker” Jim thought. ”Wait until this little show finishes”

“Yes Jim. Wait until it ends” Sarah answered mentally, and funny enough, Jim looked at her. But he couldn’t have heard her words, she was aware of this, he had felt her intention and energy over him though…oh what a waste. This man was gifted, and he didn’t know it.

They walked up front, stopping right I front of Faye: the whole group was clutched together around her, some puzzled, some fascinated, none of them bored. Some angry.

Until then, none of them had reacted, had shown any visible or extreme emotion: Julian by her side, Sarah stood in front of her human mother, in all her feral beauty, concealing nothing, showing even less.

It was when it hit them. She looked young, far too young. Her face, her body, had not undergone the grinding of time. She had not grown old, or any different…well, she was different. All of this was different, but her? Her body? This woman was the woman they had seen twenty five years before, the last time, that afternoon, when she had come to say goodbye. She was only going for a short trip, work related: yet she had hugged her mother, and she had told her how much she loved her. Then nothing, for twenty five long years.

Faye, the matriarch, who had spent her life being something she wasn’t to everybody else, sat silent, cold, motionless, hit by the sight of Sarah. Unease, a sense that something was badly out of sort came over the room, slowly, as they all looked at her. There was a woman who was supposedly in her fifties, and who looked like a twenty year old. Not her eyes though: albeit perfect, her body and face betrayed a poise, and age, that was not that of youth. The vampire stood in front of her birth mother, savouring every emotion, every random thought that came from this little group of human, as ignorant in paranormal matters as one can be.

Isn’t a girl’s wedding day the one where the best memories are made?

The vampire savoured her power, slowly sensed their life force, read them like books, and chose, mentally, which ones to take first.

Faye didn’t speak for a long time, no-one did. There was a ghastly silence in the room. Jim was eyeing Julian, hating him for this. He didn’t think much of the trollop either.

Finally, slowly, having looked hard and long at Sarah, Faye whispered something.

“This is not my daughter” and she joined her hands, in prayer, and closed her eyes and started to cry, silently.

“Oh, I am…but I know what you mean” Sarah spoke, smiling. Her fangs were showing.

Syd then intervened.

“What kind of sick joke is this? Who are you?”

Faye gestured to be quiet, the others were all petrified by the presence of the two vampires. The room had become very cold.

“It’s Sarah, Syd, it is…yet she is not. I cannot find in this person the soul that animated her. How she may look so youthful, I don’t know, but it is maybe in the realm of possibilities; I cannot feel her heart, the heart of the daughter I knew, in her. It’s her, and it isn’t.”

These were very wise words the human mother had pronounced.

“Do you wish to go, mother?” asked Sarah, bending over, so that the old woman could see her face, properly.

“Stay away from me, devil! You are soiled, you are soiled! Oh, I wish this moment had never come. I can see you, and I don’t like what I see!” Faye screamed, with a strength that was somehow unusual for her. They were all taken aback.

They had expected, if anything, the frail lady to brake in tears, to be weakened and overcome with happiness at the sight of her lost daughter, even in a setting like this; sure, it was all so weird.

Sarah looked at her display with curiosity, as if studying it actually.

Faye calmed down, eventually, and they all started to stand up, not really knowing what to do, where to go: should they leave, should they stay, what was this all about?

“Please stay seated” said Julian, finally emerging from the back, not only a shadow or a presence, now a participant.

Jim, who was still wearing then goggles of anger, couldn’t help notice how Julian’s appearance had improved.

“Don’t you think you owe us some explanation, you son of a bitch?” he almost shouted, while the others were busy both fussing around Faye and regaining their previous seating positions. “How could you put us through this? Not a word since you evaporated in thin air a few months ago! And whose this trollop you are with, son? Because she isn’t your old fiancée, is she?”

Julian stayed calm. The room was silent again. They were fearful, they were. The two vampires didn’t care to disguise their true feelings and faces, while eyeing the humans, their movements and thoughts.

“Explanations, later. All in time. Family is forever, dad, I am afraid blood can be more binding than water…”

The eerie music kept playing, in the semidarkness, as a deadly silence had fallen into the room.

“We don’t have much time”

“There is more than enough”

“This needs to be done now”

The best intentions, sadly go sometimes astray. There was no-one to perform the ceremony, as there was no ceremony to be performed.

“I want out, take me out of here” screamed Faye, her breath missing, in a last attempt to release herself. Amelie and Syd stood up, and started carrying her out: the woman looked deadly pale.

“She has suffered a heart attack!” Amelie shouted, desperate. Faye’s pulse was weak, her life slipping out of her. They reached the entrance door: it was locked.

“Unlock the door! Unlock! What’s going on here?”

Jim, his nephew and Syd got to the door and started pushing it violently, in an attempt to brake free.

Sarah remained unmoved, in the commotion. So, they didn’t want to play, did they? The human mother was dying, she could sense her life slip away. That life, albeit soul less, could have been eternal; but the woman was stubborn.

Suit yourself.

Sarah smirked. The two youths were somehow unsettled, like all the others…oh, their lovely life force. She could sense their life pulsating through their veins, full of warm succulent blood, ah…snap out of it.

She approached the girl, silently from behind, forgetting for a minute the dying woman, her human mother…I could have given you eternal life. Did she know, how did she know? There was no time for this. Silently, she was now behind her niece, the beautiful young body and hair and her scent! It was amazing. Sarah was hungry. From behind, she studied the curvature of the girl’s neck, her body. She bit her lips, her tongue flicking between her teeth, savouring the pray, the kill…the life she was going to give her niece. Family.

Suddenly a bang, the door was open, all of them gushing out of the wedding parlour, out of that horrid farce…the girl was out too, all the group, all around Faye, who lay motionless in the arms of her daughters, the other daughters, Syd on a cell phone, to try and call an ambulance.

Julian and Sarah, motionless and emotionless, stood watching this like a film.

Jim was the last to flee the room.

“You bastard, we need to have a word you and I! Did I raise you to behave like this? Are you a man or a rat? I’m disgusted!”

Jim obviously expected a response of some kind, anger, shouts, anything that would have engaged in a discussion, a communication. Jim wasn’t a bad man, Jim wanted really to understand…Jim loved his son.

“Maybe some things are better unsaid. We have said our goodbyes anyway” Julian responded, very quietly.

“You goodbyes?! That was you way of saying good bye? You have given the poor woman a heart attack for fuck’s sake! You are out of your mind or what?”

Sarah held Julian’s arm, bent her head and rested it on his shoulders.

“She was going to die anyway” she whispered. Then smiled. A chilling, long, joyless smile that froze Jim, even Jim, there on the spot.

“Something is definitely not right” he thought, and retreated.

“This doesn’t end here, young man” he said to Julian finally. Come see me at home and we’ll talk. I’ll be expecting you young man” he closed the discussion, Jim style. But he wasn’t expecting him. He was uncertain, he didn’t even know if he wanted to see them again…a chill run down his spine, for no conscious reason. It was perhaps the picture they made, the two of them together…something was so wrong.

He went out.

“He’s right” said Sarah “This doesn’t end here. As always he’s right.”

She embraced Julian and kissed his lips, exploring his teeth and mouth. Her mouth tasted of blood.

The eerie music kept filling the now empty room, with its nocturnal gothic tones, a decadent gothic rhapsody.

“Nox Eterna” said Julian, holding his bride. A feeling of accomplishment, which could have been described like happiness, had they been human, took hold of the two vampires. Sirens of police cars approaching could be heard in the distance: hand in hand, they took leave, having said their goodbyes, and disappeared into the night, at the gentle sound of the music.

#vampyr #horror #writers #horror writing

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harryandmolly · 6 years ago

Text

like the back of my hand - 2018 (part one)

Summary: a relationship within a collection of moments

Warnings: language, sexual references

Word count: 10.6k (ish)

July 4, 2018

The first time he sees her she looks like the drunken reality version of a fairy tale.

She’s wrangling a truly enormous golden dragon pool float with a wingspan of about 10 feet, reaching from the edge of the pool to try to drag it closer. He notices her hair first. A sweeping wave of reddish gold falls over her fair, heat-pinked skin. By the noises she’s making, he knows she’s frustrated. Her curtain of hair is too thick to see through. She’s short and strong – he can see the tone in her arm muscles as she reaches and holds her balance with dancer-like precision. Her legs are striking, too, thick and white and sculpted. Before she even turns around, he hears the words in his head.

Oh, fuck.

And then she does turn around and seats herself delicately on the back of the dragon, taking her bottle of Stella Artois Cidre with her for the ride. She kicks off the side with little pink toes and makes a jokingly strained face as she paddles out beside a petite blonde sitting nervously on a float shaped like a rosé bottle. His heart rattles when she laughs at something the rosé girl said. Her whole body convulses with it. She’s probably a little drunk, but she looks so alive. Her full lips drop open and a cackle rolls out. She clasps at her chest and holds her drink away to avoid disaster. When she calms down, she seems to feel his eyes. She looks over. He waits for a shock of recognition on her face. He feels his heart stumble yet again when she smiles politely, a ghost of curiosity in her gaze. She might recognize him vaguely but she doesn’t know who he is.

He isn’t the tortured “I just want to be normal” artist. He really doesn’t mind that every woman he meets these days knows him, his face, his music, parts of his story. He gets off on the rock star aspects sometimes. But this time, this girl, something makes him react differently. He’s enamored. Every new little thing he notices in that span of ten seconds he spends staring at her makes him want to giggle.

His friend has to grab at his arm to get his attention. With only a few pre-gamed beers in him, he’s able to refocus. He meets his friend’s friend Casey, a twenty-something lesbian feature film producer who lives in the host house with five roommates. Casey has big white teeth, short cropped hair and a thick southern accent. She’s friendly and tells him she likes his music, especially “Lost in Japan.” He thanks her graciously and compliments the house.

“It’s a little crazy, honestly. All of us can’t believe we get to live here. Where are my other roommates? Uh…. I think Emily’s inside with the weed. Caroline’s over there,” she points to an outdoor sectional next to a set of glass doors, “Sammi and Lilly are in the pool—”

He doesn’t hear anything else when he sees who she pointed to. Dragon girl and her smaller, frecklier rosé friend have locked arms to keep from floating away as they discuss something that looks important, if not just interesting. He doesn’t know which one is Sammi and which is Lilly but he needs to find out.

In the pool, she’s listening to Sammi tell a story about paying her brother and his friend in tequila and wine to move her into their current house. She looks up at the back of the tall curly-haired guy that walked in. She can feel celebrity on him. He didn’t roll up with an entourage or make any kind of entrance, though. He looks very normal, but too hot in that “he’s definitely famous” sort of way. She can’t place him, though. She scrolls through her mental rolodex of things she enjoys that were meant for a youth audience, given that he looks younger than her – Disney Channel shows from when she nannied? Old Teen Wolf guest star?

“Sam,” she hisses, nodding in his direction, “Is he… somebody recognizable?”

Sammi looks over her shoulder and clocks him. She turns her head back, blue eyes wide under curly lashes, looking genuinely shocked. “That’s Shawn Mendes.”

“Oh! Right! He did that sad song from the new Fast and the Furious movie?”

“No,” Sammi laughs, “That’s Charlie Puth. Shawn Mendes did “Stitches” and “Mercy” and stuff like that.”

“Oh!” she cries again, slapping the water with a flat palm, “Yes! I love “Stitches.” Shit, I should be talking quieter. I guess Casey knows him.”

“I think Casey knows the guy with him, I think he was here at the Memorial Day party.”

“God, look at us with our A-listers at our house,” Lilly hums, looking impressed with them. Sammi matches her expression and wiggles her eyebrows.

“He’s young, though, right? Like 17?” Lilly continues, eyeing him cautiously.

“I think he’s older than that,” Sammi murmurs as their floats drift closer to where Shawn and Casey and company stand.

“I hope so,” Lilly whispers. Sammi snorts a laugh and kicks at her float. Lilly kicks back and Sammi squeals, clinging to the edge to keep from unseating her bottle. The noise catches Casey’s attention.

“Guys, these are two of my roommates, Sammi and Lilly. Ladies, my friend Greg and his friend Shawn.”

“Hi,” Sammi laughs, weakly reaching up a hand while she stays close to the edge for support. Lilly giggles as she watches them shake. Since she’s too far from them to make contact, she waves.

She wants to slide off the dragon and hide underwater when he smiles at her. His cheeks are a little flushed, perhaps from the heat or the alcohol. He has the slightest divot in his chin. His hair has just enough product in it to look really cool. He’s tall, too, over six feet, she guesses. Too bad he’s a teenager.

She floats closer to the edge of the pool and reaches a foot out to hold onto the stone, her legs separating a bit as she does. He has a question or a comment ready to engage them but loses it entirely.

“You wanna get in?” Greg prompts, angling his head at the pool.

“Yeah,” Shawn croaks, looking away from the legs he wants to be crushed and killed by, “Let’s get some beers.”

They stroll off to the coolers. Casey bends to reach Sammi when she sits up.

“You know Shawn Mendes?” Sammi hisses. Casey grins and bobs her head.

“I didn’t think he was coming. No, I mean, I know Greg through Kingsley. I’ve never met Shawn.”

“How old is he?” Lilly whispers. Casey shoots her a dangerous look.

“He’s 19, girl. Get in on it.”

She barks a laugh in response. “19. Please. God. The last thing I need.”

Casey, ever wise, raises an eyebrow and cocks her head. “I dunno, dude, I’m gay as they come and I can see the appeal there.”

“As can every teenage girl in this country between the ages of 13-18. I have to grow out of that sometime.”

Casey cedes, throwing up her hands and noticing another group of friends to chat with. Sammi turns the rosé bottle toward Lilly.

“I think you should, too,” she mentions, feigning casual. Lilly rolls her eyes.

“Can you imagine? God. Maybe he’d write a song about me,” Lilly teases.

Sammi opens her mouth to respond when Greg and Shawn return, beer bottles in hand, stripped down to bathing suits. Shawn, after quick consultation with Greg over the coolers, takes his shot and sits on the edge closest to Lilly.

“I like your dragon.”

She looks up at him and down at her floatation device. “Oh, thanks,” she chuckles dryly.

“The rosé floaté is cuter,” Sammi argues playfully, jumping in when she realizes Lilly is going to turn in on herself and not engage.

“I think the unicorn floating beer koozies are the cutest,” Lilly replies, using the excuse to hunt for one as a way not to look at him and feel her resolve turn to mush.

Shawn picks up the one bobbing against his leg and hands it to her with what he hopes is a smooth half-smirk. She takes it with a smile that barely resembles a smile, her eye contact with him shorter than with a passing stranger. He feels a little defeated, so he sucks down half the bottle of beer in a gulp.

Slowly, though, as he and Greg ease their way into the cool water to stand with Sammi and Lilly on their floats in the shallow end, occasionally reaching out to hold them as they threaten to drift, the dynamics shift. Lilly opens back up, much to Sammi’s delight and encouragement, and actually does crack jokes and ask questions and make prolonged eye contact, though still more with Greg than Shawn.

“So are you just in town for 4thof July or?”

Shawn doesn’t realize the question is directed only at him until he looks up and sees her big blue eyes looking straight at him.

“Oh! Uh, no. I’m here for a couple meetings. We’re planning stuff for 2019,” he says, bobbing his head casually.

“That’s intimidating. I don’t even have a plan beyond my next sip of cider. Do I get another? Do I stop? Do I lie back on this dragon and contemplate the meaning of my existence?”

He cracks up at her dry humor. “I don’t know about your existence, but I’m getting out to grab another beer. Want a refill?”

She smiles at him genuinely, her lips curling up as she tilts her head affectionately. “Yes please.”

She drops the last sip down her throat. He watches it as she swallows and feels himself do the same. His fingers brush hers as he takes the empty bottle. She pretends not to watch his back muscles pucker and flex as he lifts himself out of the pool. She also pretends not to google him while he fetches their drinks. He hopes she didn’t see the little jog-skip he does to return to her faster. She does and hopes he doesn’t see her blush in response.

They spend hours together like that in the pool, trading positions – Sammi on the dragon, Greg on the bottle, Lilly and Shawn sitting together on the edge. Shawn on the dragon, Sammi on the bottle, Greg and Lilly keeping them from floating away as they talk about anything. Sammi’s boyfriend Drew leads her away around sundown. Greg, upon realizing Sammi has a boyfriend, wanders off but encourages Shawn and Lilly to stay. His blessing doesn’t matter by that point. By hour five, Shawn had found his soul mate.

He’s enchanted to say the least. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight but damn if this wasn’t the closest to it he’s ever felt. Every shift of her body on the ledge of the pool makes his heart kick up a beat. Every time she swishes her feet in the water and comes within inches of brushing him feels electric. Every question she asks him seems like the most thoughtful, most important thing in the world. She teases him, she listens to him, she smiles at him, she confides in him. She is perfect.

She is trying so hard not to see it. He’s a 19 year old that looks 22 and she doesn’t think that is at all fair. She also hasn’t been kissed since 2014 which strikes her as more of the same. He watches her every move closely in a way that feels less predatory than boyishly fascinated. She feels beautiful and a little powerful. When he takes her hand to help her off the float and lead her out of the pool in search of burgers and hot dogs, she should’ve let go immediately. It isn’t fair to her or to him to linger, but he is becoming addictive.

She does retract her hand from his much larger one when they reach the stairs. She takes the railing instead and notices the contrast between the cool metal and his radiating masculine heat. She still feels it behind her, though, as they climb the stairs. He notices with a sigh that her hair smells like chlorine and strawberries. It’s drying into sticky chunks on her peachy back. He wants to gather it all in his hands and run his fingers through it while he sings to her.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

He shuts that thought down before it went anywhere sappier.

They eat together on the sectional outside her bedroom, wrapped up in the house’s beach towels. He has a burger, she has a hot dog. They share a bowl of chips and salsa. He asks about growing up as an only child, she asks about Toronto. After another two drinks each, he leans in closer and she lets him with the excuse that the fully set sun is reducing her visibility. He asks her about her unfinished screenplay. She asks him about what he’s writing.

He’s drunkenly convinced they are in love by the time they’re climbing the stairs with the rest of the party stragglers to reach the balcony for fireworks. He stands close behind her while they burst, watching her face more often than the actual light show. Emily dutifully shoos everyone back downstairs for the rest of the party. The palm tree twinkly lights come on now in the full darkness, giving the whole pool deck a romantic glow. He can’t help himself. He brushes his hand against hers as they walk down the stairs. He reaches out to open the gate and starts to say something about being really happy he tagged along with Greg when he feels the locking bar swing out and hit him right in the lip.

“Oh, shit,” Lilly groans as Shawn gasps and grabs his mouth. The other partygoers don’t seem to notice.

“Fuck, I did this literally twice this week alone. C’mon, I have an ice pack in my room.” She ushers him back up the stairs and down into the basement.

He’s embarrassed, but hell, he gets to see her room.

She seats him on the bed calmly and almost maternally. He looks around, poking the inside of the offending wound with his tongue and wincing. Her room is stylistically a little bare; he can tell she just moved in. She has white pillar candles in the fireplace as decoration which he thinks is cool. He likes that her bedspread is yellow.

He looks up at her sheepishly as she hands him the blue freezer pack wrapped in a paper towel.

“This thing’s been getting a workout,” she jokes, sitting beside him and watching as he brings the ice pack up to meet his reddened lip. She bites down on hers and scoots a little closer to him, her brain hazy but aware enough that she has a man in her room, sitting on her bed.

“Am I bleeding?” he murmurs, his eyebrows pulling together as he lowers the pack. She leans in to inspect, shaking her head.

“No, just a little swollen. Keep the ice on it.”

They’re silent for a few slightly uncomfortable minutes. She wonders if this means she really can’t kiss him now. What, is she crazy? Of course she can’t.

He pulls the ice pack away again and licks his lips. He looks at her. She smirks.

“Yup. Still pretty.”

He blushes and ducks his head.

“You have such pretty lips,” she confesses, letting out an aggravated sigh. He shivers and grins at her, opening his mouth to respond when he sees her face go blank.

“Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with me?” she says to herself, deadpan, “You’re a 19 year old rock star.”

“Well… thank you for calling me a rock star,” he begins uncertainly. She snorts.

“This is so not a good idea for me,” she says again, mostly to herself. He doesn’t pick up on that.

“Why not?” His voice is a little pouty, and a little hurt underneath that.

“Because I’m not ‘casual kiss at party’ girl. And I just moved here. I don’t even have friends yet. If I don’t have friends yet, I shouldn’t be kissing the ones I just made, that’s bad planning.”

“You don’t have to be ‘casual kiss at party’ girl.”

She shoots him a look that shuts down wherever that could be going. “You’re 19. The only girls in your life right now are ‘casual kiss at party’ girls. As it should be.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“No, I guess you had to get into it a little to write the songs you do,” she concedes, folding her legs towards him. He does notice that.

“I get what you might be thinking. It makes sense. But I don’t do this a lot,” he says gently.

“What, run into iron gates with your perfect, pouty man lips?” she groans, falling back onto the bedspread and grabbing at her Olaf pillow pet.

He chuckles and looks at her fondly. “Casual kissing at parties. I don’t do it a lot. I’m not ‘cool music industry’ guy. I just… I saw you tonight on the dragon and talking to Sammi and I felt like my stomach fell out.”

She’s not used to being told anything like this. She’s trying to decide whether to believe him or decide he’s saying what he needs to. His eyes are earnest. She pulls herself back up to sit and sigh.

“You’re fucking adorable.”

“Thank you, so are you.”

“But I’m not mature enough for this. So I’m not kissing you, Mendes.”

He shrugs, resigned. “That’s ok. The universe seems to not like the idea of my kissing anyone tonight.”

She looks up him. His eyes are turned down to his lap and he looks a little bummed. She wants to suck that swollen bottom lip between her teeth and feel him moan. She shakes that idea off and instead brushes a hand through his hair.

“Stupid universe.”

She holds onto her resolve long enough to get him back upstairs with the rest of her roommates and the remaining guests. He was among the last to leave, her number as his parting gift.

He doesn’t wait 24 hours to text her. He waits 9 – just after he wakes up on the hot, dry morning of July 5th. He thanks her for a great party and tells her he’ll be back in town in a few weeks and he wants to see her.

I’d like that. And now I’ve listened to your music and definitely won’t mix you up with Charlie Puth again!

He lives for that text. Even as they continue their conversation, he scrolls back up just to look at it and laugh.

Ok I just listened to “Mercy.” First of all, I fucking love it. Second of all, who hurt you??? I’ll fuck ‘em up.

He responds to tell her it’s not about a girl, actually.

Bullshit. Don’t protect her.

He insists it’s about loving something that’s difficult, like his music career. She begs off.

An hour later, she texts him again.

I just watched your Carpool Karaoke. I think I’m in love with you now.

He responds, are you just watching every video of me on youtube???

Maybe, she replies.

He loves that idea.

++++++++

August 12th, 2018

“So you really thought I was Charlie Puth?” he sighs.

“Yes. I mean, no… I mean… listen—”

He interrupts her flustered babbling with a laugh so she knows he’s teasing her.

“I knew you both existed. It’s not like I had never heard of you. I knew there was a Charlie Puth and a Shawn Mendes but I didn’t know which one of you was which. If he had come strolling into my backyard, I would’ve wondered if he was you. But Sammi told me who you were before I could make a fool of myself.”

“Thank god for Sammi,” Shawn replies. It sounds like the end of the conversation. With a pang, she realizes she doesn’t really want him to hang up.

“I gotta go, it’s so late here and I have to try to knock out a few hours of sleep. I’m glad I accidentally called you though,” he laughs, standing with his phone and walking to the trash with his empty food containers.

“I really enjoyed it, call me on purpose sometime and we can continue our discussion about why people should’ve been listening to Zenon, girl of the 21st century the whole damn time.”

He barks a laugh and it shakes one out of her in response. She bites her lip as he settles and waves goodbye, signing off with a nod.

++++++++

August 17th, 2018

“So you have a song on the soundtrack but never saw the movie?! C’mon, Shawn,” she groaned, tipping her head back against the cushion. When he asked to Facetime her a few days later, she was in bed watching old Gilmore Girls episodes and feeling sorry for herself when an interview she booked with a film production company was abruptly canceled because they hired someone else.

Lilly decided stepping outside felt more neutral than sitting in bed, even though the sun was going down. And he was snuggled up on his hotel room couch in Tokyo in a hoodie looking like absolute boyfriend material.

“I know, I know, that’s bad,” he laughed, nodding and ducking his head shamefully.

“The movie’s so good! Actually, the second one’s even better. And the music is better in the second one.”

After a moment of quiet, she realized what she’d said. She fixed her gaze back on the screen and saw him look mock offended. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“Oh my god! I didn’t mean that.”

“You definitely did though,” he chuckled.

“I mean… listen, your song wasn’t in the movie. Maybe that was what it needed, that would’ve put it over the top,” she babbled.

“Sure. Ok.”

+++++

August 20th, 2018

Shawn: God I haven’t been to the beach in so long

Lilly: Well, we should go when you come back. I’ve been meaning to go out and see Malibu. You down?

Shawn: Hell yeah, Malibu is dope.

She can’t believe how excited she is to see him again. Every time she feels her mind wander to how he looked in her pool with a beer in hand, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the conversation with her, she chants the number 20 in her head.

She remembers being 20. During her 20th year, she changed her major to journalism for no good reason and fell madly in love with a very damaged boy named Bennett who treated her like garbage. She cringes when she thinks of herself at 20.

She knows it’s not fair to assume he’s as stupid as she was then, or even to suggest that she is a pillar of wisdom now at 24. But he’s also a pop star. When he left her room that night after returning her ice pack and planting a kiss on her cheek, she looked him up on Tumblr and found the multitudes of women lusting after him as she expected. That kind of attention makes her nervous. He has no reason to be interested in a serious relationship and she’s secure enough to admit that’s what she wants at this point in her life. But she can’t deny how much she already likes him. She’s sure if she spends more time with him and sees the speed at which his life moves, it will erase any idea of more from her mind.

But as she’s cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway with him in her passenger seat looking out the window and grinning hard, it’s difficult to imagine feeling differently.

He’s picking through her iTunes playlists, gently teasing some choices and praising others. They bounce between classic rock, country, top 40 of various eras, and, at her insistence, some of his music.

“I just bought your entire discography for the purpose of forcing you into my own personal Carpool Karaoke. So sing, monkey!” she cries, slapping her hands on the wheel as they get stuck dead in traffic again somewhere around Thousand Oaks.

He’s laughing. She has such a sharp wit, he can’t help but delight in it. He gives in, because he thinks she just really wants to hear him sing and he wants to make her smile, maybe show off a little.

“Ok, fine, which one do you want me to sing?” He feels himself going pink and turns his face to look out the window at the disgruntled travelers.

She debates internally, bobbing her head back and forth. “Well, I really like “Stitches” because I’ve actually had that song for a while but the last few days I’ve been really into “Nervous.””

He nods once and selects it from her playlist. “”Nervous” it is.”

She bounces in her seat, grinning from ear to ear, nodding as he starts getting into it, belting it out just for her. Soon they’re both blushing and enthralled by each other but pretending not to be. When he finishes the song, she’s biting hard on her lower lip to tamp down her smitten smile, shaking her head.

“Thank you for indulging me. You… are a very good singer.”

He snorts and sits back, satisfied, and thanks her quietly. He’s silent for a comfortable minute, then he gets an idea. “I wanna hear you sing.”

“No, you don’t,” she corrects him, widening her eyes at the road, not daring to look at him. Her reaction only makes him push harder.

“Now I really do! Come on, pick a song.”

“No.”

“Pick a song or I pick for you.”

“Pick any song you want, you can’t force me to sing.”

“No, but if I put something on you really like you’ll start singing anyway.” He grabs her phone and starts perusing her options. “Ok… oh shit, yeah, One Direction, perfect.”

“Oh my god,” she giggles nervously, knowing he’s right.

“What’s your favorite One Direction song?”

She sighs dramatically. “I mean… if you’re going to make me sing, I want it to be something I can actually sing well enough.”

He’s shifting in his seat with excitement, his black board shorts crinkling. “Ok, what are we picking, eh?”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes at his accent. “Maybe… Taylor Swift?”

“Ok,” he nods, tapping on her phone to pull up some options. She feels her heart throb harder. He scrolls, impressed by the amount of songs she has to choose from.

“Do “You Belong with Me.” I can… kind of sing that. I think. We’re gonna find out. I hate you, by the way.”

“Shut up and sing,” he snaps jokingly. When the song starts, she shakes her head.

“Wait, no, no, not this one.”

“Oh, come on…”

“No, do “Fearless.” I can do “Fearless.” I’ll do “Fearless.”” Her words stumble out fast and a little scrambled. He would feel bad about putting her on the spot, but she’s so cute when she’s nervous.

The instrumental part starts and she’s trying not to smile but the way he’s looking at her is making that hard. The first verse is well within her normal range. She croons along seriously, trying to show off whatever talent she honed in her short-lived vocal classes back when the only thing she wanted to be in life was Hayley Williams. She’s watching the road carefully as the verse opens up to the bouncier, louder chorus. She raises her voice along with Taylor’s and sees him smile wider in her periphery as she gets into it.

She turns sincere around the bridge and leans her head back, reaching up into falsetto. He tilts his head back too and watches her, fascinated. He wants to press repeat when the song ends and make her go again. Even better, he wants to make her sing every song on her phone. When it fades out, Lilly purses her lips and ducks her head.

“That was really good,” he insists, wondering if she doesn’t know. She sighs, knowing he really couldn’t say otherwise.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll keep my day job. Just kidding, don’t have one.”

He notes the way she deflects with humor. He shakes his head, hoping maybe if he keeps singing, she’ll join him. They flip through more songs in her summer playlist. It’s heavily populated by country artists he doesn’t know. She is pleased to educate him. When “Driving All Night” by Jake Owen comes on, they’re both quiet, bobbing their heads as the Pacific comes into view.

“You should cover this song,” she murmurs shyly, glancing at him.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I love this song. It’s so sexy and romantic. And you’d sound better than Jake Owen anyway.”

He pulls out his phone. She doesn’t think anything of it until he opens his notes app and looks at her earnestly. “What’s it called?”

“You’re writing it down?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot. What’s it called?”

She’s baffled, giggling. “It’s “Driving All Night” by Jake Owen. You’re gonna cover it just because I told you to? That’s too much power for me.”

He smiles. “I won’t post it anywhere. I’ll just record it and send it to you.”

She takes a deep breath and exhales. It’s hanging there between them. He’s being so sweet to her, they both know what he means by it. He decides to try to tone it down a little.

They arrive at Zuma Beach, marveling at the lack of people despite the gorgeous summer day. It bodes well, though, for keeping them out of the tabloids. He insists on paying for parking since she drove. She winks at him when he hands her his platinum Amex to hand to the parking attendant. He rolls his eyes and snickers at her.

They set up to the left of one of the lifeguard stations with chairs and towels. They settle in next to each other facing the water and Lilly moans.

“This is amazing. I’ve been here five minutes but I think it’s my new happy place.”

“Agreed. This is awesome.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, heads tipped back with small, sleepy smiles on their faces. Shawn doesn’t seem worried about being recognized. She tries not to look around to see if anyone has noticed him.

“Tell me something,” she whispers, turning her head to him.

“What kind of something?”

“Tell me… something you’re excited for coming up.”

“Uhm, well, I’m doing a bunch of festivals this summer. Going to Brazil and a couple other cool places I haven’t seen yet.”

“That sounds fantastic. I’d love to go to Brazil.”

“You like to travel?”

“Love it. I’ve always had the bug but it bit me harder when I went to London. Can’t stop thinking about it now.”

They talk about his favorite places and hers. That turns into college stories and early tour stories, which morphs into love lives and what they were like as kids and how they feel about their families. If he wasn’t half in love with her already, he is now. After two hours of flowing conversation, he stands and runs his hands through his hair. She admires his back and ass, tilting her head. He turns to look at her and she lets him catch her staring.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases.

“Gorgeous,” she admits, nodding and fanning her face, “And so is the beach.”

He sighs and reaches for her hand, tugging at it.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“The water.”

“But what about our stuff?”

“Not many people around. No one’s clocked me yet. We’ll watch it. C’mon.”

She lets him help her out of her seat but drops his hand as they head to the water under the guise of adjusting her suit. She marches ahead of him and now he gets to admire the expanse of pale skin she probably hasn’t been protecting with sunblock all that well today. She shakes her hair out from where it sticks to her sweaty back and chest. It’s salty and matted from the sea air, making her look like a mermaid on legs. His breath actually, physically catches in his chest looking at her.

“Oh, it’s cold,” she declares in confusion, her eyebrows pulled together.

“It’s not bad,” he insists, wading in up to his waist without hesitation.

“You’re too Canadian for your own good,” she replies, shuffling after him, not to be outdone. She flaps her arms and hisses when she walks in a little deeper. He resists the urge to drag her into his chest and cradle her against his bleeding warmth.

He kicks off over a wave and it catches her a little further back, pushing her backwards and swallowing her up to her shoulders. He laughs at her reaction. She splashes him, he splashes her back. She wants to grab him and lift herself onto his broad, defined back and let him take her wherever he wants. In fact, that thought haunts her throughout the day.

After a while, they head back to the chairs and dry off. He reminds her to reapply sunblock. She asks him about writing songs, about his celebrity friends, about home. He asks her about her own writing, about her best friend Lauren, about her dreams.

The sun begins to hang low and the beach empties out. She’s reminded of their long drive back inland and of his plans early the next morning.

“I don’t want to go,” she confesses, the sincerest he’s seen her all day.

“I know. This was a perfect day.”

She feels an odd connection to Malibu now and an even stronger one to Shawn. She thinks in the course of a few weeks he might’ve accidentally become one of her best friends. She doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want him to leave and forget about her. She doesn’t want to go so far from the ocean again.

“Let’s come back here,” she insists.

Her hair glows redder in the sunset. He goes as far as to cup a hand around her cheek and place a quick kiss on her forehead. “We will. I promise.”

They sing “Malibu” by Miley Cyrus and “Hotel California” by the Eagles together on the way home. They order a large pizza for dinner and eat all of it. He leaves in an Uber after they had both fallen asleep watching Must Love Dogs. He wakes her up when his car arrives and tells her not to get up and that he’ll be back in a few weeks. She misses him as soon as he’s gone.

++++++

September 1st, 2018

“If you knew how many women on the internet want you to tie them up, you would be amazed.”

“Oh my god, don’t tell me that,” he whines, plucking at a thread in his jeans.

“Seriously! Spanking, breathplay, daddy kinks—”

He interrupts her, whirling his head around even though his phone was pressed to his ear and no one was paying attention to him. “Lilly, I’m in public.”

“Keep a straight face,” she teased.

“You just said ‘daddy kink’ to me, how am I supposed to keep a straight face?” he hissed, slumping into the lobby couch, willing himself to disappear.

“This is how millennials and gen Z’ers discover their sexuality and embrace it. They read, they write, they draw. It’s a beautiful thing and you get to be a part of it.”

“Is that how it happened for you?” he whispers curiously.

She’s quiet for a minute, debating what to tell him. “I mean, yeah. Nothing is the same as personal experience but when you’re reading it, you get a sense of what interests you.”

“Makes sense,” he agrees, his voice begging her to elaborate.

“I’m not going to start listing off my kinks, Shawn, so get that out of your head.”

He laughs. “Worth a shot.”

Their beach day was almost a distant memory now. They start talking on the phone and FaceTiming more. They’ve got the long-distance friendship thing down pretty well by this point. She’s impressed by how much time he’s able to make for her. She knows better than to expect this all the time. She knows she’s lucky to get what she can from him now when he’s just touring festivals and not flung into a new city every day for months on end like he will be next year on tour. She also knows he’s been writing heavily, which puzzles her because he just released his third album.

The next time he’s back in town, she has another adventure planned.

“I’ve decided to get my first tattoo.”

“Really? Awesome. What and where?” he asks, rubbing his chin and smiling goofily, glad she can’t see him. He gets a flash of a few locations he’d like to see one on her and blushes.

“The inside of my left foot. I’m getting a silhouette of Peter Pan, Wendy, John and Michael flying.”

“That’s perfect for you, that sounds great. When are you going?”

“That’s the thing. I want you to come.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re an old pro with the tattoo thing. And you have strong hands that I probably won’t break if I squeeze too hard.”

He laughs. “The hands are the moneymakers, you can’t break those.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be gentle with you, Mendes.”

He shivers as the implication and smacks his palm against the wall to refocus. “I actually got one of my finger tattoos in LA. I can call him for you, he’s really good.”

“That would be great, I was going to ask you for a recommendation.”

They set the date according to when Shawn would be back in town the next week. He springs for an Uber, claiming her foot would hurt too much to drive after she gets inked. They sit and wait while the tattoo artist prepares, Lilly’s bare legs bouncing wildly as she stares off at nothing.

“You ok?” he questions, reaching out to her knee to still her. His big, hot hand does get her attention. Her skin jumps a little. She smiles wearily.

“I’m a tough chick, I can handle a little pain, but I’m a little worried.”

“I know, I get it. It’s really not all that bad though, I promise. If I really hated it I wouldn’t have gotten five.”

“But maybe you’re way tougher than me,” she argues.

He snorts. “Doubt it. You do Orangetheory. You’re way tougher than me.”

She bumps his shoulder with hers playfully. The tattoo artist leads them back and sits them down, readying her foot for the stencil.

“Worse comes to worse, you don’t finish it all today. If it’s too much, you can come back,” Shawn reminds her, leaning in to watch as the artist stencils it the way she wants.

She takes a deep breath as he turns the needle on. Without looking away from her foot, she reaches for one of Shawn’s hands and holds it between both of hers. He squeezes her fingers supportively when the needle makes contact. She gasps gently, her lips popping open as she lets out a ragged breath. He knows he shouldn’t be aroused by her face and her noises while she’s in pain but he bites his lower lip anyway, committing them to memory.

She sandwiches his hand between hers. He scoots closer to her in his chair, feeling more welcome. She shoots him a faltering smile.

“You ok?” he murmurs. She nods in response.

“You have tiny feet,” he points out, cocking his head as the tattoo artist smiles.

“My feet are average sized, thank you,” Lilly replies dryly.

“They look little. How tall are you again?”

“I’m 5-foot-2.”

“You’re so tiny,” he marvels, stroking the outside of her palm with his trapped fingers. She’s silent, holding herself together.

“You’re doing so good, I was crying by now when I got my first one.”

She glares at him. “You told me it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“I lied.”

She chuckles and he feels better, knowing she’s relaxing. She sits back in the chair while the artist works. Instead of staring intently at the needle, she distracts herself by staring at Shawn.

“Were you a nerdy looking kid or did you grow up good looking?”

The tattoo artist and Shawn both snort a surprised laugh in unison.

“What?” Shawn chuckles.

“Like, were you one of the kids in middle school or whatever it’s called in Canada that all the girls liked? Or did you grow into that?”

“I… no, no, I had braces for almost 5 years. I was terrified of girls. I was not a kid girls liked,” he explains.

She furrows her brow and purses her lips at him, flinching when the artist moves to another spot on her foot. She squeezes Shawn’s hand harder. He smiles.

“I want to believe you but I don’t think I do. I see you now and I can’t believe you weren’t cute growing up.”

“I’ll send you pictures,” he promises, nodding at her. After a few seconds, he asks, “Why are you asking this?”

She looks embarrassed. “I’m suspicious of boys that grew up knowing they’re hot. There were guys I went to school with that were horrible because every girl in class had a thing for them and they just never grew out of being cocky little shits.”

“And you’re worried that’s me?”

“That sounds bad. I don’t think you’re a cocky little shit. You just seem too good to be true sometimes.”

Shawn looked a little smug, covering her clasped hands with his free hand. “And then you remember I’m 20 and that’s why you won’t go out with me.”

The tattoo artists covers up a laugh with a cough. Lilly’s eyes blow wide open. This thing between them is not something they acknowledge. Shawn seems playful enough about it, so she decides to engage.

“I feel like I was a different human being at 20. I’m not saying I’ve reached enlightenment now at 24, that’s stupid. I just—”

“I know, I’m just teasing you.”

“It’s less about your age now than it was,” she admits quietly. He looks interested now. This is new information.

“I thought at first there’s no way I could relate to a 20-year-old on any level other than very basic friendship. But you proved that wrong. So I guess if I’m being really honest with myself, which I am because I have an electric needle in my foot, the only thing left of concern is your job.”

Shawn ducks his head. The tattoo artist looks like he’s not paying attention at all, which makes him good at his job.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Shawn whispers, looking bashful and a little hurt. Lilly shuts down, worried that her honesty was too much. She keeps his hand in hers, rubbing it absent-mindedly as she continues to stare at the tattoo.

She and Shawn are quiet for the rest of the session. She can only imagine what the tattoo artist must think. When it’s finished, Shawn leans in to take a good look. She’s smiling at it fondly.

“It looks great,” he murmurs, sounding distracted. She releases his hand. He flexes it and marvels at the pinkness of his skin from having it grasped so tightly. He looks at her, “Are you happy with it?”

“I am. Blissfully happy. It’s perfect.”

Shawn helps her stand after they work to carefully bandage the spot and put her shoe back on. He holds his arm out to her for support as he walks her out to the Uber. She doesn’t really need it but she takes advantage.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” she tries once they’re on their way back to Burbank.

“I should get back to my hotel, actually, I have to catch a red-eye.”

She feels awkward around him for the first time since she refused to kiss him in her bedroom while he had an ice pack on his lip.

They arrive at her house. He asks the driver to wait as he steps out and meets her by the front steps. He pulls her in for a hug and it’s warmer than she expects. She presses her face into his neck and hopes he feels what she’s trying to say through the action. He pulls back and pecks her forehead.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promises, opening the door to climb back into the car.

“When will you be back?” she almost whines.

“It’ll be a little longer. Probably six weeks.”

She looks hurt under a brave face. It makes his stomach turn. It also goes to prove her point about his job as an obstacle to their relationship. He dips his head in the car and doesn’t watch as she walks up the stone steps under a curtain of bougainvillea.

++++++++

October 14th, 2018

“Sometimes when I miss you the most I watch your music videos,” she admits, two glasses of red blend deep.

He raises his eyebrows at that idea. “Yeah? Which one’s your favorite?”

“Well, I hate “Stitches” because you get the shit beat out of you.”

He laughs heartily at her bluntness. He sips his beer and relaxes against his hotel bed headboard, gazing at the skyline. He can’t remember where he is anyway, so he closes his eyes and imagines sitting in her bed with her head in his lap, hair spilling in every direction.

“I didn’t ask which ones you hate,” he reminds her.

“I really like “Nervous.” It makes me smile,” she whispers, pulling Olaf to her chest and pecking his white, sparkly forehead.

“I like “Nervous,” too.”

They’re both quiet, ignoring the meaningful silence between them.

“You know what’s not fair?” he pipes up.

“Hmm?” she hums through a mouthful of wine.

“I don’t have videos of you I can watch when I miss you.”

She sighs. “I’m not an international superstar.”

“Send me some.”

“I don’t know that I have many of just me… hold on, let me put you on speaker.”

He waits as she scrolls through her phone.

“Wow, I really don’t have any videos of myself. I have some stupid drunk snapchats—”

“Oh, I definitely want those,” he laughs, straightening up at the idea.

“Like, my drunk lip sync game is strong.”

She’s going through videos and giggling to herself. He’s perfectly content to just sit there and listen.

“Oh my god, SEAN!” she cries suddenly, her voice a moan of longing and nostalgia.

“What?!” he asks, alarmed.

“Oh! Not you, sorry. My college friend Sean. I haven’t talked to him in a long time. He works for Apple now.”

“Oh, ok,” he chuckles, dragging back another gulp of beer.

“Oh my god, I’m such a fucking lush,” she laughs, alarmed at the number of drunk videos she has, “I’m sending you all of these because they’re all hilarious. And now I’ve gone too far back into 2008, not a good look.”

“No, send me those, too.”

“From when I was 13? Hell no.”

“That sounds like gold, honestly.”

A few more seconds of scrolling and she sighs once again, aggravated. “Sorry, bub, I have very little for you. Certainly not of the quality of your music videos.”

“That’s ok, send me what you have and then just do new ones.”

“Of what?”

“Of whatever. Of you at home, hanging out, cooking, singing—”

“I know better than to send you video of me singing.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles, “Don’t do that, I’ll be too tempted to post it.”

“So I need to document more of my life to share with you.”

“At least for a while until I get back to LA.”

“How much longer?”

“Two weeks.”

“I’ll see if I can hold myself together until then,” she teases, releasing her empty glass of wine on her coffee table, “But for now, it’s time for bed. I’m glad you had a good show. I miss you, pal.”

“I miss you, too. I’ll see you soon. Sweet dreams.”

And she does send him videos, usually when he’s least expecting it. He got the first one in the car on the way to the airport to return to Toronto. It was a two minute diatribe about the heat wave in Los Angeles and her despair at finding her car to be registering 118 degrees when she went to Ralph’s for groceries. She blew him a kiss thoughtlessly at the end of the video. When he was alone in his own bed that night, twitching and sleepless, he re-watches the last thirty seconds, thumbing over the status bar on the bottom of his phone a few extra times to watch and hear the loud kiss.

He gets another when he’s just waking up in Pickering while visiting his parents. She’s gone to Malibu without him and his heart aches at the idea. Though a little guilty, he’s also pleased to see she didn’t light up there the same way without him. She walks him around Zuma Beach for almost 10 minutes, rambling about nothing. He watches that video in full 3 times that day.

His favorite is one he gets while out in the city with his buddies, he can’t remember where exactly. She’s lying in bed on her side curled up so she looked like she was talking to him during one of their unplanned sleepovers. She’s telling him about the girls she met from Emily’s musical and this conversation they had about their place in the industry as women and their insecurities and their strengths. She tells him how she stayed quiet during the conversation, partly in an effort to let these wise, wonderful, talented women have their say and learn from their words, partly because she thought if she started talking, she’d explode. She looks right into the camera lens during this video and it’s startling to him the hole he feels in his chest at her pleading gaze.

“So, really what I realized is as much as I liked listening to these women talk, I realized I didn’t want to talk to them as much as I wanted to talk to you. So come back to LA, your second home, to your partner in crime and your beach buddy. I miss you like crazy. It actually hurts me. Ok I’ve had an emotional evening and if I start talking about how much you mean to me, I won’t stop. Not that you don’t deserve to hear it and be reminded of it regularly, but it’s almost 2 AM and I’m trying not to be that girl anymore. So, as always, I love ya and I’m proud of you every fucking day and you make me want to be great.”

++++++++

November 5th, 2018

“So like… with Harry, it’s like…” she trails off, grinning. He feels his stomach churn at the idea that she might talk about him this way when he’s not around, “It’s like he’s an old friend who I love but never get to see or talk to anymore. When he shows up anywhere on Tumblr or whatever, I’m like, ‘aw, I love Harry.’ But Niall…”

He sits up when he sees the devilish look on her face. “But Niall what?” he prompts, sounding uneasy.

“But Niall is my mans,” she says simply, blushing at him through the screen.

He rolls his eyes. “God. This is why I can’t take you to industry events, y’know, because I’m worried you’ll kidnap him.”

“I wouldn’t, I definitely wouldn’t, but I would shamelessly bat my eyelashes all night until he either gave in to my advances or asked me if I had some kind of condition.”

Shawn bursts out laughing at that, imagining the scene. “Yup, yup, I’m never going to take you to meet him.”

++++++++

November 28th, 2018

She’s focused on trying not to drop her phone, coffee mug or purse as she wrangles her way into her bedroom, the sun beating down on her exposed neck. She pushes inside and right away, there’s something wrong. There’s a large black suitcase resting against her dresser. Alarmed, she looks up and sees him at the far end of the room. He’s shedding a leather jacket on her chair, looking both delighted and guilty.

“What are you—”

He interrupts, “You ruined my surprise! I was going to hide and scare you.”

“Fuck, Shawn!” she cries, dropping her belongings on the dresser and racing for him, deciding to launch herself into him when he holds his arms out to her. He catches her easily and spins her as she locks her arms around his neck. He has her a foot off the ground and slows their twirl, eventually lowering her slowly until her feet touch the ground. He buries his face in her neck and keeps her there. When he can finally stomach it, he pulls away, stepping back with his hands on her shoulders.

“Why are you crying?” he laughs, brushing her arm playfully.

She wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. “Because I’m fucking surprised, goof, you weren’t supposed to be here for two days. I was going to pick you up from LAX like a dutiful best friend. I was going to order sushi so we’d have it ready when I brought you home.”

His heart flutters both at her idea and the mention of her home as ‘home.’ Like it was sort of his, too. “I’m sorry. That sounds like a great plan. If you want, I can call an Uber and go back to LAX and we can try again.”

“No, this is better,” she insists, planting her face back into his chest, make-up smearing on his white t-shirt.

“I missed you,” he admits, rubbing her back gently, rocking them.

“I missed you somethin’ awful,” she agrees, stepping away and pushing at his chest, “You were gonna scare me?”

“Yeah, I was going to hide in the wardrobe.”

“Wow, you had a scheme.”

“I had a whole plane ride to plan it out.”

“And how is it you’re here two days early?” She sits in the middle of her bed. He follows her to prop himself on the edge, not wanting to get too comfortable without her permission.

“Well, don’t get too excited, because my meetings got moved up. So you don’t have extra time with me, it’s just sooner than we planned.”

“I’ll take what I can get, Mendes, you’re a busy man.”

He shrugs. “I’ll always make time for you.”

She cocks her head and smiles, unsure of how to react when he says those sweet things to her. She doesn’t get the sense that he’s actively trying to wear her down. She thinks he’s just saying what he means. She wonders if he’s in love with her.

He leans forward, eyebrows raised as if to tell her a secret. She leans with him.

“I brought my guitar,” he whispers. She jolts back, clapping her hands.

“Yay! Now I can finally learn to play and then seduce Niall like I’ve always wanted,” she jokes, kicking her legs out and biting her lip.

“Funny, funny girl,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes as he gets up off the bed to get his guitar case.

She watches him as he bends down to unlock the case, her eyes wandering to the inch or two of his Armani boxers that peek at her from above the waistband of his jeans. She bites her lip again, her heart still pounding from the surprise of finding him in her room.

“God, I love that you’re here,” she whispers earnestly. He lifts the guitar and turns to her, smiling shyly.

“Good surprise?” he asks.

“Great surprise,” she confirms with a nod, scooting back on her bed until she hit the mass of pillows in front of her headboard. He wants to crawl on top of her and never leave. Instead, he picks up the guitar and starts plucking out something he learned for her.

In a flash, before he can even start singing it, her head snaps up from her gaze on his fingers and she widens her eyes. “Is this…?”

“Lights out, I still hear the rain…” he begins, singing at her through a satisfied smirk. She buries herself deeper into her pillows and covers her mouth and nose with her hands.

Up to that point, she couldn’t have imagined loving that song more than she had for the last ten years. But he learned it for her, he took the time out of writing and touring to learn her very favorite song by her very favorite band just to sing it for her. He sings the whole thing perfectly and emotionally, shutting his eyes and nodding his head and getting into it. When the last note fades out, he rests a hand on the guitar and smiles sheepishly.

“You are something else,” she laughs shakily, sitting up from the pillows. Her face is all red. He wants to cup it in his hands and stare. He holds onto the guitar a little harder.

“You wanna learn “Jasey Rae?”” he offers, gesturing at the guitar.

She blinks, tempted. “No, I want to learn one of your songs.”

His heart pounds as he shifts in his seat. “Ok. Which one?”

“Which one is easiest for a beginner?”

He laughs. “None of them.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches out to poke at the strings under his fingers. “C’mon, I know you want to hear me sing your music.”

He’s busted. He shakes his head, giggling bashfully. “I give. Let’s learn “Like To Be You.””

“Oh, hell yes, duet time. Let’s High School Musical this bitch.”

He rolls his eyes at her uncanny ability to twist his romantic gestures into humor. He still has another trick up his sleeve, though.

“C’mere,” he gestures, kicking off his shoes and spreading his legs. She raises her eyebrows. He pats the space between his thighs.

“Come there?” she chokes.

“Come sit between my legs otherwise I can’t show you where your fingers go.”

She looks suspicious but crawls over to him, stopping when she’s a breath away from his lips to turn and scoot back into his chest. He lifts the guitar over her lap and lays it down to show her different parts of it. He shows her the strings and names them and shows her how to use a guitar pick. He positions his head over her shoulder and guides her hands, singing quietly as he shows her the first few chord progressions. She picks it up quickly.

“Did I ever tell you I played the harp when I was little?” She’s looking down at the guitar when she says it, cheeks going red.

“Really?” he laughs in disbelief.

“Yeah. For two years. I wanted to play an instrument no one else I knew did so I picked the harp. My mom and I took lessons together.”

“That’s fucking adorable,” he coos, resting his head on her shoulder. She spares him a glance and shrugs gently, not enough to shove him off.

“So you’re gonna be a pro, then. Ok now put your fingers here and here,” he explains, demonstrating by moving her hands around for her.

“I get worried I might lose you a little,” she sings authentically, light and airy in her falsetto he’s grown to really love. He harmonizes with her. She falters slightly at the unexpected addition, grinning at him as she continues, pulling herself back on track. He nods along, impressed by how well she knows the words.

She struggles with where to put her fingers, but she’s motivated and it helps that she knows the song. Slowly but surely, she puts it together and within a couple hours can play it through at a slow tempo. When she runs it through solidly the first time, he wraps his arms around her and shakes her.

“You did it! You’re a fuckin’ rockstar!”

She squeals and burrows back into him, delighted at his enthusiasm. He wiggles behind her and manages to squeeze his phone out of his impossibly tight back pocket. “C’mon, let’s get one on video.”

“Nooooo, Shawn, no Instagram, not with me all snuggled up to you, Lauren will never let me hear the end of it.”

“Not for Instagram, just for me, ok?”

The look of sincerity on his face breaks through her resolve quickly. She nods and he goes to great lengths to set it up, perching it on the mantle above her fireplace and sitting behind her as she strums.

It sounds nice. Julia Michaels’ voice is heartbreakingly beautiful; the recorded version of the song aches with want and frustration and guilt and regret but with Lilly, it’s different. This is the closest they’ve come to discussing their relationship since the day of the tattoo snafu. She’s singing honestly and with the grace of someone with a nice voice who is paying more attention to the guitar parts she learned pretty quickly. He’s staring at her the whole time, bobbing his head and singing to her and with her quietly. When the song ends, she looks up at him with a grin and looks to the camera.

“We did it!” she squeaks, throwing her arms out. He laughs and stands up from behind her, walking to end the recording and put his phone back.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, patting her ankle.

“Are you kidding? Thank you! That was great. And hey, now you can take me on tour and we never have to be apart,” she teases. His demeanor shifts a little.

“I have to talk to you about that, actually.” Her eyebrows raise in anticipation.

“I wrote a new album,” he explains quietly, clearing his throat and looking down at his crossed legs.

“You released a new album in May,” she laughs, her voice on edge due to the look on his face.

“No, I know, and we won’t release it for a while, but I wrote it. And… the reason I’m telling you this is… because a lot of it is about you.”

She stares at him blankly. “A lot of it?”

He bobs his head back and forth noncommittally. “All of it.”

“All of it?” She’s trying not to panic, he can see it on her face.

“It just… came out,” he babbles, waving his hands frantically, “Like lyric vomit. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never written this many songs myself before, much less about one person. I didn’t know what to do. I was calling Ryan and Teddy and Ed trying to figure out if I was just fucking crazy or what and I sent them the stuff I had and they said it’s good, it’s like, really good, they say it’s my best stuff. And I didn’t know what to do because we have this… thing, this fucking elephant in the room at all times and I had to tell you because I’m so excited about this music but it’s… it’s all about you.”

She’s just staring at him, her heart beating faster with every word that spills from his panicked mouth. She looks down at the guitar which feels really heavy all of a sudden. She hugs it closer like a shield between them.

“Is it… I mean… what kind of songs are they?”

He hesitates. “Romantic ones…?”

She’s quiet for a while. It’s killing him, but he doesn’t dare speak. She wiggles uncomfortably.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear it,” she whispers, her smile shy and apologetic. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“I’m excited to play it for you. When it’s… y’know, done.”

He leaves for a dinner with people from his label. She sits on the edge of her bed for a while, gnawing on her top lip and staring at the tile floor. It occurs to her now how badly, how irrevocably she may have screwed this up.

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @crapri

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine

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scullyeffect · 6 years ago

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how do you feel about younger people in fandom? like the youngest side that are probably on tumblr i.e 13/14ish?

i don’t know if you mean in the x-files fandom, or just younger people getting involved into fandom stuff online nowadays so i’m just going to go with a generalization.

i’m nobody’s mother and interests are healthy, and honestly i’m 23 so i don’t know anything about anything yet, but i will say that i live with a 15 y/o girl, a 13 y/o girl, and an 11 y/o girl, and i find myself very sad when all they want to do is go on a phone and watch youtube videos and be online instead of doing something more creative or intellectual.

we had a birthday party for 11 last night, and we had to take phones away from like six 10-11 year olds, which is ridiculous. i do understand that we live in a big city (paris, which isn’t exactly the safest) and lots of kids do things independently (walk to school, walk to friends’ houses, take the métro) so sometimes i worry about 11 (who doesn’t have a phone) if she needs to take the métro alone or walk somewhere alone, and i wish she did have some way to reach me if ever she got lost or something, but 11 is so young.

i think in a world that’s become so increasingly digitized and almost making it necessary to be connected in some way, kids are growing up faster, and some of the posts online and on tumblr talk about things they might not understand yet, and cause them to form opinions based on a text post some 18 y/o wrote. i’m even guilty of this. i’ll get too lazy to keep up with the real world and get my politics from tumblr sometimes, and that’s probably not good, even though mainstream news sources can do the same thing. my mom worked for the washington post, and that’s pretty much the only place i get my news from.

i probably got my first tumblr account when i was 15, and honestly i regret it. i was a pretty sheltered kid/teenager who really enjoyed reading, doing art, writing, and watching sad european dramas about dead sovereigns and suffering artists. i somehow discovered pro-ana blogs (blogs that share and encourage eating disorders to the point where healthy people can begin to actively attempt to follow insane tips in order to lose weight), and since i actually had been having trouble with my own eating habits but never really known that those behaviors were bizarre, i self-diagnosed and was part of that “community” for awhile.

i was interested/ in love with lots of actors and actresses, and as i made it out of kind of the pro-ana area which i realized which was unhealthy lol i found out about stan culture and just real obsession with movie stars/celebrities. when i was a younger teen i was “obsessed” with meryl streep, which at that time meant that i watched all her films repeatedly. i didn’t realize people cared about the actors/actresses’ personal lives until i got on tumblr, and at the time it was really exciting to discover things about my favorite celebrities (i mean, being a fan of someone obviously isn’t new, but it was to me). now that i’m 23 i find it very invasive and somewhat creepy that we’re so interested in someone’s life, sometimes even more than their body of work. we’ll probably never meet that person, and if we do they’re not going to think about you or remember you forever, because there are thousands of other people out there who feel the same way, and they just can’t keep track (at least the huge stars).

on the flip side, i think it’s good to have role models and people to look up to, but sometimes there’s a thin line there. i’m blonde, but i dyed my hair brown in my first year of high school because i was obsessed with marion cotillard and wanted to look like her. i kept the brown throughout high school because i liked it, and sort of forgot i ever did it because of her, but now i’m blonde again and it looks so much better haha. ALSO i got really interested in france/speaking french because of her (and juliette binoche), although i had a fantastic and enthusiastic french teacher in high school to help fuel my desire to speak french. and now i’m fluent in french and live in france. wow. so, if there are people you look up to in the public eye and they’re influencing you in positive ways, that’s great! i do get suspicious when very influential celebrities share their political views, though. i think we have a tendency to follow in people’s footsteps either subconsciously or in full awareness. that could be in any field. i like certain authors, and sometimes my own writing is heavily influenced by their work. it’s a natural thing that happens. but voting really should be an informed decision...just my opinion.

let’s talk about “just my opinion”. online bullying is real and can sometimes be rampant if there are dividing views on someone and their perceived private life. for example, in the x-files fandom we will, for the most part, absolutely convince you that mulder and scully are fucking like bunnies, when the show’s own creator won’t lol. but there are also people who think that gillian anderson and david duchovny (the leads) were/are/could be at some point in a romantic relationship with each other. they (anderson and duchovny) even cater to the fans a bit, but at the end of the day that’s their business and they don’t owe us an explanation, and a lot of people in fandom sort of act like they do. the point of this example was that because people in fandom are divided about this point of view, if you talk about one side or the other, there are some people who will come at you and say mean things for not agreeing with you, and try to convince you of a truth they have no real authority to speak about. this is obviously just an example, but online bullying is rampant and is often taken personally and can really affect the person being bullied, especially someone younger who may or may not be already facing that in real life at school lol.

i think tumblr is a good place for people who suffer from mental illness to come together in a healthy way to talk through their problems (god i hope i’m telling the truth), and there’s definitely tons of awareness and support that you’ll get on tumblr that you may not find in the real world. for example, i don’t know anyone irl who has epilepsy who i can talk to about mine. on tumblr i’ve talked with people who understand what i’m going through. i think that self diagnosis online, just as much on tumblr as it is when i cough and search “signs of throat cancer or tuberculosis’, read up on web md, and immediately fear my days might be numbered, is a problem. on tumblr i think we’re introduced to concepts and can sometimes treat mental illness lightly, when it shouldn’t. if you’re suffering from a mental illness, the online world isn’t going to be the place that can completely help you (says the girl who refuses to go to therapy and instead complains online about how she’s not getting any better).

being online immediately takes us out of life and into a different world. we become observers instead of experiencing the world. there’s good stuff about observation, but being online and attached to a website that is more or less just a vice for people will often make us choose to be on our phones instead of doing stuff in real life.

all of these points being said, i’m guilty of a lot of the “bad/unhealthy” facets of tumblr, but as i’ve “grown up” (unfortunately still staying on tumblr for a good portion of that time) i’ve grown out of a lot of these things and can see the good and the bad that the online world has to offer, and know which parts to stay away from. i can recognize that spending too much time on here does nothing for my desire to stay inside and not experience the real world. it also makes me think a lot more about tv shows/films/celebrities than i need to. but i’ve also made great friends from being on tumblr over the years, and gotten support i definitely wouldn’t have gotten in real life.

back to my real life. do i encourage the girls i live with to be interested in certain media? yes, especially stuff i feel has a good message. i basically sat the two older ones down and showed them the pilot of the x-files. do they experience the same high level obsession i do with tv shows/movies? no. and i’m glad for that. they like to lose themselves in certain tv shows, but when the tv is off they don’t really talk about it. do i introduce them to things i’m interested in media-wise? yes. do i introduce them to books and music i was/am interested in? yes. have i told them about tumblr? no. they don’t have any access to my online “presence” (they don’t know my instagram, twitter, etc), and i don’t talk about it. when my computer is out and they’re in the room doing homework, i’m usually writing. granted, that’s usually fanfiction, but at least i’m writing something.

one of the boys i tutor is writing a book (he’s 11) which is basically a self insert that takes place in the harry potter universe. he doesn’t know what fanfiction is, and i haven’t told him (although he’d never type it up and put it online lol he barely knows how to turn the computer on), but i’m so thrilled he’s even writing that i make him sit down and write for 10 minutes before we ever start watching a movie (in english).

ANYWAY. i’m nobody’s mother and at the end of the day i’m posting this online on my stupid blog where nothing i say matters or has any influence anywhere, but i think kids should be able to enjoy a non-internet related childhood as long as possible. some of us on tumblr are old enough to actually have children that age, and as much as we like having an account on this site, if asked this same question we might not as readily say ‘yeah it’s great! i want my teenagers to have the same experience as me!’

there’s my two centimes. hope i answered your question. JuST MY OPINION.

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essilt · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: Mnemosyne’s gift (WIP)

Autors: @katerina150 , @essilt Theseus Scamander / Leta Lestrange, Canon Het Relationship, Het, Alternate Universe, Epistolary, Drama, Romance, Family Feels Notes: BC THEY ARE OUR BBS AND JFC WE JUST CAN’T! Notes2: We’re sorry for mistakes, english isn’t our native language. Sum: Fantastic Letters and what are they hiding.

ao3 link

Chapter 4: The Corvus IV Lestrange's cunning plan

It was oddly, but they met again at the ball. Mr. Scamander and Miss Lestrange were invited to the annual Christmas Ball at the Ministry of Magic and, of course, separately.

Theseus led the Auror Department in 1925: the war hero, who was one of the first to go against the emergency legislation of Minister Archer Evermond. He returned from the mainland at the end of 1918, started from scratch under the guidance of Torquill Trevers and literally took off on the career ladder. The position and aura of heroism made his Irish appearance much more attractive in the eyes of the majority of free girls for betrothal, but Theseus was equally formally amiable with all of them. It was rumored that his heart was broken.

Leta Lestrange was a Hogwarts graduate, as well as Theseus. She once was friend to his younger brother Newt - and even for a couple of years she imagined she was in love, or maybe Newt imagined that for himself and for herself. Once she spent the whole summer at the Scamanders: communicated with the whole family and enthusiastically watched the hippogriffs. Theseus had often heard about her before: Leta Lestrange was at the tip of the tongue of a non-talkative Newt. Although the circumstances of the very first meeting could hardly have passed for auspicious, when Newt was expelled from Hogwarts, and his older brother had to push thresholds in the pose of the petitioner. Theseus never thought that he would communicate with this girl seriously. He was almost ten years older, she was from a different social circle. He went to war early, she continued her studies, learning how to do magical sciences as Muggle ones, and this was what later allowed her to work in the ministry, and not her father’s money, as many thought. Of course, they happened to cross at Trevers' department, but hardly all of these meetings could have passed for the renewal of acquaintance.

Theseus went to the reception without much inspiration: on the Christmas eve, Mrs. Scamander (Ma, as her sons called her among themselves) depressed by the blatant celibacy of both, in turn brought down her bad mood for a hopeless future, a lonely old age and other mischief from the day they were born. Newt crawled into himself, as if in a sink, and silently suffered, Theseus languidly dissuaded as just as languidly threatened not to come next Christmas, if these conversations did not stop. But Ma, having read the gossip in the Daily Prophet, where were only notes about beautiful lonely young women, went to storm with the determination of a soldier who had no other maneuvers left and who ignored the threat - especially since they never were performed.

"Do not roll your eyes, Theseus Scamander!" She always called children only by their full name being in anger. “You're worse than brother. You're almost forty. Almost forty, Theseus! Soon you will have no chance! You can expect only a twice-divorced woman or a widow with children from previous marriages!"

"Mom, are you sure that this is a suitable conversation before the ball?"

"This is always a suitable conversation!" She pursed her lips. "Theseus, I can not live forever, who will take care of you twenty years later? You think it'd be your brother who can't even take care of himself?"

Theseus thoughtfully considered a tuxedo.

“Mom, in the name of Merlin, I and Newt live our own lives a long time ago, and if I need a nurse one day — although I hope I won't get to such misery — I will just hire her. Marriage, as far as I know, is not for this."

“Of course not,” she snapped back, catching a subtle subtext. She paused and called on the other side: "Soon I will be too old to raise my grandchildren..."

"Grandchildren are for joy, mom. For everything else, you can hire a nanny."

"What can you know about this!" She let a little tragedy into her voice, and then got angry: "You measure everything with money, Theseus. Gathered all this of Muggles."

“Mom, money is convenient, after all, why not use it,” Theseus shrugged his shoulders, took the fresh issue of the Prophet from the table. "Well, and who do you offer me as a bride? Let's go through the list. The first in it turned eighteen last spring, and I, as you kindly and fairly reminded me, am almost forty..."

Mother snatched the newspaper out of his hands and threw into a corner.

"Don't clown around! You might think that there are no brides outside of this list!" Now the drowning man’s prayer sounded in her tone distinctly: “You had that girl in France... Why not marry her!"

"I am sure there is, but my work does not allow to communicate with them. With that girl, as you call her, there was a relationship that did not include the concept of marriage." He didn’t lift an eyebrow when his mother portrayed something between indignation and embarrassment, and ruthlessly added: “In the name of Merlin, mother, that time there wasn’t any relationship to marriage."

"So, you must work less!"

“And a woman who has worked all her life tells me this,” Theseus could not refrain from an ironic smile.

"It did not stop me from having two children!"

Theseus took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. Poor Newt is probably listening to all this.

"I do not argue." He tried to go on another truce, letting a little sincerity into the conversation: "I just didn’t meet a woman I don’t want to let go. And who'd endure me. No one likes redheads."

“Well, that is, we are to blame with your father, it was us who gave birth to you the redheads,” said Mrs. Scamander’s voice with a harsh note hinting at humility, and Theseus embraced her.

"Do not worry. If Newt and I are lucky, you will have daughters-in-law and grandchildren. You will grumble when they will overrun the house and climb where they don’t ask..."

"I will not live till that moment with such sons!"

Mrs. Scamander said this loudly enough for Newt to hear every word too.

***

Leta Lestrange was preparing to the ball alone. She received strict instructions from her father. Everything about her rebelled at the thought of what these instructions were about, but her tongue did not turn around to say "no". Corvus IV Lestrange had enough of a glance so that all the Leta's rebellious nature, who did not let anyone in Hogwarts descend, would wilt and freeze. The secret, shameful fault, about which it was impossible to make and sound, immobilized her and the overwilling glance smeared Leta at the feet of the father with a thin layer. You want to earn my trust, said this glance, you need my forgiveness, you should try and be a good girl, then I will approve of you - and Leta mentally replied: "Yes, Dad." Her father's authority was still indisputable for her.

She gathered her hair in a neat strict knot and stabbed her with sharp raven feathers. A black silk dress with a train and straps crossed at the back, studded with glass beads and sequins, was put on right on a naked body. Black velvet shoes on a tall thin heels, walking on will be almost an art. Her favorite silver snake with emerald eyes wrapped around her arm, from shoulder to wrist. The jewelry belonged to her mother - in fact, it was the only thing which Leta inherited by her mother.

***

She was late for the official start of the celebration and appeared in the ballroom when the performance had began and the frail ballerina, making the pas in her flying white robe, let go of the shawl into the air - but the performance did not interest Leta, she only looked ahead.

And it was Theseus Scamander ahead. Her Aim. Of course, they were familiar and although they didn’t really communicate for many years, moreover, Theseus was the first after precious animals that Newt could talk about incessantly: he found a thousand and one more reason to be angry with his older brother and to condemn him - and desperately admired him. So Leta, unwittingly, knew about Theseus Scamander much more than it was decently to know a young girl about a man almost ten years older; and since Newt Scamander was her the very best, the most intimate — and the only — friend, she involuntarily took from him an explosive mixture of condemnation and admiration for Theseus. They were even lucky enough to spend the whole pre-war summer together, when Mrs. Scamander invited her younger son's girlfriend to stay with them on holidays. Theseus was tall, scrawny, red-haired, freckled, just like Newt, wore a canvas shirt with rolled up sleeves and pants with suspenders, preferred to tinker with the rod and fishing line without the aid of spells, and he had an unusually ordinary girl. Nothing foreshadowed the hero of Arras, Messina, and Amiens.

Theseus was at the other end of the ballroom and noticed immediately the excitement among the guests and his reason. Silk dress to the floor, flowing gait, dark skin with an olive tinge. Densely dilated eyes with languishing and barely touched lipstick lips. At first it seemed to him that she was looking for someone, then - that it was him with Leta Lestrange met her eyes. Not for long: just a moment or two. He was amazed how lonely she seemed. Theseus did not follow her life intentionally, but he read the issues of the Daily Prophet, where were often published articles about her and all the enviable brides of the wizarding world, including Leta Lestrange, who, even crossing her twenty-five year line, did not lose ground in the top ten. He was even interested, because Leta occupied a considerable place in Newt's life - until the number of her supposed suitors reached ten. Then Theseus just stopped looking through the column about the secular life of the magical community.

She seemed relieved to see an old acquaintance.

They met with their eyes every now and then, until the performance was over, then the crowd separated them. Theseus was distracted by the conversation Minister of Magic Fowley, Leta was pulled aside by familiar witches from pureblood families. It took a good quarter of an hour and a lot of tricks and tiny steps in the direction of the Aim, before Theseus and Leta finally found themselves face to face.

“Oh, Miss Lestrange!” greeted Fowley. "How are you tonight? Do you enjoy the show?"

“This is a wonderful evening, Minister,” Leta gave Fowley a hand for the duty of the kiss and turned her gaze to his companion, nodding in recognition. Theseus tilted his head in response.

“Miss Lestrange, I regret that your father could not attend our Christmas party, but I am glad that you decorated it with your presence. Of course, you are familiar with our heroic Head Auror, Theseus Scamander, but it will not be superfluous to introduce you to each other again. Theseus, this is Leta Lestrange, the daughter of a respected friend of the Ministry."

Leta smiled radiantly.

"My father was very sorry that he could not attend, and asked me to convey to you wishes of well-being and remind you of the return visit, which was previously promised. Mr. Scamander, glad to meet you again," she gave a hand to Theseus.

How tall is he! She forgot. Or maybe in childhood it is natural that everything around is much higher. Leta had to throw her head back to look at Theseus' eyes, but he easily relieved her of the inconvenience, leaned in the old-fashioned way to kiss his hand, and did not raise it to his lips, as almost all men now did, trying to get rid of conventions.

"Mutually, Miss Lestrange."

She was so busy thinking about his height that she didn’t have time to think about his voice. Theseus detained her hand in his not longer than decency required, but Fowley did not allow the conversation to develop.

"Yes, yes, Miss Lestrange, I will definitely return the visit, would you like to accompany me and see our program?"

Leta had no choice but to agree. She wouldn't to refuse the Minister with whom her father was friends, although at that moment she wanted to stay and speak with a completely different person. Theseus was forced to accompany the wife of the Minister, a strict fair-haired lady who set off her bright charismatic husband.

The program of the evening included several more dances and a magician's nice performance, combined with drinks and light snacks. Leta was next to the Minister, realizing that Theseus Scamander was standing behind her. Directly behind. Touch me, she mentally repeated, touch me - until she realized that it was not an order, but a request. She really wanted to know how Theseus Scamander touches a woman, appreciate what is waiting for her, check with her skin whether all this chatter about a broken heart is true - although she already senses: not true... She even shifted her shoulder blades, almost feeling his fingers glide on her back. When white snow, so similar to the real one, began to fall from above and began to turn into flowers right in the air, she turned around and saw an asphodel flower in Theseus’s hands. Strong hint! Guessing how far the Head Auror could be suspected of indecency, Leta turned away as soon as she caught his return glance, and spoke to the Minister about something unimportant.

During the reception, her friends surrounded her again, without giving a minute of peace. Conversations, on-duty smiles, fake wishes of well-being, gossip, invitations to spend the weekend at someone’s estate or in the mountains, or at the springs. “And let's flight to Bulgaria!”, “Yes, yes, it’s very good there now, snow, they say, piled up, you can ski. I like to descend from the springboard "and so on and so forth. Her head ached so much that, after apologizing, Leta moved away, pretending to have a snack. She would not be reproached: the appetizers were excellent, to match the champagne. In the absence of a good cook, the current minister could not be blamed.

“Persephone plucked the asphodel flower, and the firmament of the earth opened up before her, from which the four dark as the night of horses escaped, and the underworld king Hades ruled it..."

She shuddered, turned around - and came under the spell of Theseus Scamander's smile. And, oh Merlin and the Holy God, this growth...

"Sorry, seems to me I've scared you."

"Don't worry, Mr. Scamander, I'm just surprised. Do you like ancient myths and legends? Or do you want to put my vigilance down?" hinting at the most innocuous name, Leta pointed at the flower.

Theseus laughed, and the asphodel disappeared.

“My job is, these myths not to become a reality, Miss Lestrange.”

“I hope that today you are not here to work, Mr. Scamander,” Leta smiled and took a sip of champagne. Her head was spinning slightly.

"No, today I intend to rest. Do you like ancient myths and legends?"

“Some ...” She paused, trying to get at least one suitable memory out of her: “I remembered, in my youth, I was amused by the legend that one hero went down to Hades and unsuccessfully sat down on the wrong chair. We often laughed at this with Newt."

Theseus grinned, apparently realizing what kind of legend it was. Newt once said that his brother in school was also teased by the misadventures of the great Greek hero, not always successfully, which, of course, was reflected in the number of points of his faculty.

Taking a sip of whiskey, Theseus leaned toward Leta a little closer.

“I argue that it was Newt who told you this Athenian gossip, it will be from him. And I'm not at all surprised, considering how my brother likes to laugh."

"How is he?" Leta did not retreat, only elegantly intercepted canapés from a passing by tray.

"He returns from his long journey soon. I think it will linger for a while in our area."

Damn well with his height sits a tuxedo, that's what, Leta thought - or champagne helped her think so. Newt wouldn't ever be dressed like this - noone would ever have a chance to rake him out of his beloved coat.

“Does Newt still love his outlandish animals?” Leta smiled, recalling the scary care of Scamander Jr. about his strange, but in her own way beautiful pets. “Does your mother still breed hippogriffs?”

“Yes, to both questions,” Theseus finally smiled sincerely, making his face completely transformed. Leta did not expect that his smile would make such a strong impression on her. "Newt is collecting material for his book, which he has been writing for many years, and mother is waiting for him to show another brood. And to persuade to find a more rewarding occupation..."

Talking about Newt awakened a cat named Feeling of Guilt from a lethargic sleep, and before she began to sharpen her claws about her soul, Leta changed the subject.

"Mr. Scamander, I spent a wonderful summer in your house, I still remember with tenderness."

In the eyes of Theseus it was clear that these memories are shared.

“You had lovely curls, Miss Lestrange.”

“I hated them,” Leta portrayed disgust, “and with pleasure got rid of them!”

"It does not matter. They were all the same cute."

"You are really pushing me to return them!"

“I never thought that my opinion is so important,” he smiled again, and Leta had to take a sip of champagne, because he had his throat tight.

The snake on her hand raised her head sometimes or took a more comfortable position, so as not to interfere with the freedom of the hostess's gestures. A catchy, massive jewelry, which, perhaps, would have gone as clothes. Not the most decent thought, but war wiped out the tinsel of propriety in the first place.

"Will I survive the bite of your beast, Miss Lestrange?”

She was surprised - hard to say, feigned or sincere - and opened her dark eyes.

"What beast, Mr. Scamander?"

“This one,” Theseus stroked one of the metal rings with which the serpent wrapped Leta’s shoulder with his index finger.

The snake did not move. Leta traced the movement with her gaze.

"Oh!" She slightly raised her hand. “She doesn't bite... unless I ask.”

“Warned is armed,” said Theseus in a philosophical tone. "I will try not to give you a reason."

Between her beautiful full lips flashed dazzling teeth.

“I don’t think I’d let her harm you.”

“You still haven't say whether her bite is deadly, Miss Lestrange.”

"Let the answer remain secret."

“Well,” Theseus spread his hands, “I hope that in the extreme case I won't have time to understand anything!”

"We'll see, Mr. Scamander." - Leta brought the glass of champagne to her lips again, and Theseus felt a sudden — and as clear as day — temptation to kiss her. Snake lifted her head from the hostess's wrist and winked.

Damn French women, Theseus swore to himself, no one else can so cleverly put all these women's tricks into which it is so nice to get caught.

"Is your beast trying to tell me something?"

Leta frowned severely, noticing snake's maneuvers, and she peacefully settled down, becoming just an jewelry again.

“She likes you, Mr. Scamander.”

He thought that this could be a family joke of the year: the snake-bride. Why not, in the end, the Muggle fairy tale about the Frog Prince wanders around.

"Does she have a name?"

Leta drank some more champagne, and Theseus remembered of his whiskey.

"I suggest you come up with it."

“I’m not as good at handling animals as my brother, Miss Lestrange.” He grinned. "I can not guess."

"It's just a name, Mr. Scamander." For a moment, she opened her eyes wide. Then the dark eyelashes sank again, Leta moved to him at a small step and stood up on her toes to quietly add: “You will not do anything terrible if you give it.”

Her smell was so close: an unobtrusive smell, reminiscent of languor, which comes during the summer heat, with a slightly bitter cocoa mixture. There was an eternity between the girl with pretty curls, who was visiting Scamanders' house, and an exquisite young woman at the ministerial Christmas celebration.

Some excitement passed behind their backs; the official part must have come to an end. Leta retreated to a small step. The thought that he wanted her was as clear as the thought of a kiss, but not at all sudden.

Theseus reached out to stroke the snake again.

"I'm lost. Ago? Aminta?"

"Ago," Leta thoughtfully held out “o”. - "I like it."

"And your beast?"

The snake lifted her head, shook her, and winked again, twisting around Leta's wrist.

"She flirts with me, Miss Lestrange?"

“I don’t see anything wrong, Mr. Scamander,” Letha laughed. The official tone has finally turned into a playful one. "I think many women in this ballroom would like to flirt with you."

Theseus spread his hands.

"Today they have no chance against your beast."

"It flatters her..."

Damn French women, Theseus thought again, damn French women, eternal punishment to the British for the Hundred Years War.

"And you?"

They met looks. Leta bit her lower lip - rather instinctively.

“I am a simple woman, Mr. Scamander, of flesh and blood.”

Theseus paused, looking for an answer.

"Is your beast jealous?"

“I didn't notice.”

The conversation became extremely ambiguous, the available reserve of the ability to flirt was exhausted, and in the large ballroom the invisible musicians played the fashionable Muggle Quictime Foxtrot and Charleston, and Theseus leaned old-fashioned to kiss Leta's hand again.

“Then she won't mind if I invite you to dance.”

That was a statement.

"Of course, Mr. Scamander."

"But I warn you that I am not very strong in this."

"Do not worry, I will teach you."

He tried to focus on something less provocative than, damned all the French women, she has no underwear, not even the thinnest bottom shirt, it was enough to put an arm around her waist to realize it. On how small she was: even on heels, Leta barely reached out to the top of his shoulder. On how gentle her fingers, decorated with elegant rings, are golden-brown, soft. On an unusually chiselled jaw line, especially noticeable when Leta slightly tilts her head to the side. On how softly she slips in the dance and imperceptibly guides not the most skilled partner.

On the fact that he did not want to let her go.

His smile made her heart beat faster, and Leta tried not to think about it. As for “not very strong”, Theseus Scamander, perhaps, lied: he did not stepped on her legs, he caught all her unobtrusive clues, and they had never encountered neighboring pairs.

“I've heard you were at the war, Mr. Scamander,” Leta spoke in a surprisingly calm voice, although she had almost been shaking with emotion. "What was it like?"

"I would not like to talk about it now, Miss Lestrange, I do not want to spoil the evening. Let's just say war is not an easy walk."

Someday he will tell her everything. For some reason, Leta had no doubt that this time would come. Or the champagne did not doubt - it does not matter.

“And you have scars?” Typical female curiosity pushed her to such an intimate question.

“Yes, Miss Lestrange, I have scars.”

"Will you show me them?"

Theseus did not answer, squeezed her fingers harder and put it on his shoulder, pressed with his palm. Then pulled her closer. The flashes of the wizarding photographers flickered around, and Leta thought that their pictures would be in all the columns of secular news in the morning, but she didn’t care.

By the end of the first dance, Leta understood that her father’s plan went to dust, as her own. They spoke with Theseus less and less often and over the last quarter of an hour they exchanged well if a dozen phrases. It is strange that after all the talk this evening it was so pleasant to just be silent. The third and fifth dances followed the second dance, the score lost its meaning. One of them will certainly end with the fact that they just cling to each other and will be just stay so close. Is that so easy?

"Can I take you home?" Theseus asked when the evening was almost over.

“Of course, Mr. Scamander,” she smiled, letting him put a mantle on her shoulders. Theseus himself ignored the rules and wore a coat of Muggle cut. They left together and, after passing a sufficient distance to the required point, transgressing near the pompous London house of the Lestrange family, where they always moved into the season.

Her father went away on business to the estate, leaving Leta alone to carry out his plan, which had already become her own.

“Do you want to come in, Mr. Scamander, drink some more whiskey? Father has a Muggle collection." Leta turned to Theseus, who was ready to say goodbye.

“With pleasure, Miss Lestrange.”

In the hall, Theseus helped her to take off her mantle, and left his coat and hat on a hanger. The house was quiet, dark and almost empty. The maids, probably, had already gone to bed, the house elves hid — not surprisingly, it was already past midnight, she noted. There was no dream in one eye. She lit a fire in the fireplace, a gleam played on Theseus' brown hair. He waited. Remembering the excuse that lured him here, Leta gestured to his father's study, opened a cupboard lined with pot-bellied bottles, and glanced absently at them.

"What kind of whiskey do you prefer, Mr. Scamander?"

“Miss Lestrange, I prefer not a whiskey.”

The next question literally hung in the air. Leta froze for a second and walked slowly toward Theseus. He waited, but Leta could not escape from his gaze. She raised her hands, buried her fingers in Theseus' hair, crumpled, ruffled, smeared with briolin's hands.

“I wanted to do this all evening,” she whispered, smiling at his bewilderment, “I dreamed of seeing them free.”

"And I wanted this all the evening," Theseus pulled her to him and kissed her.

Then everything happened instantly. In a split second. They kissed, as long as the air was enough, fumbled with their palms on their clothes impatiently, kissed again. Not here, she whispered, and he nodded automatically, of course, not here, though whom to peep; the thin straps of her dress, studded with glass beads, were the most important threat, because hell-take-it-easier-tear. Leta laughed silently, bared long and even teeth, whispered that the dress was worth a fortune; Theseus, close to despair, was looking for a secret "lightning", loops, buttons, and finally, gritting his teeth, he said - no more than the salary of the Head Auror. Leta laughed again and finally relented, sent his fingers to some intricate clasps, disguised by the same glass and sequins; one movement - and the dress was gone. And under it, indeed, there was only naked Leta, as smooth and soft as silk, which rolled from her as a black wave onto the carpet, and she remained standing - the continuation of this wave, dark, olive, golden, with a neat chest, a clear-cut waist and tough hips. She took her feet out of her shoes, and gracefully descended onto the carpet, as she came down from the platform, and turned out to be unexpectedly even smaller than Theseus thought. The snake flowed down from her hand, curled over the dress peacefully and covered her emerald eyes, Leta stood up on her socks for a new kiss. Her palms stained with bryoline had already spoiled the tuxedo, bow tie, vest and ruthlessly took hold of the shirt; not here, for the sake of Merlin, she repeated, there is bedroom, and Theseus hoarsely demanded: show. The dress and the tuxedo were left lying on the carpet, woven like lovers, Leta found herself in Theseus' hands, prompted the way into his ear: up, to the right, straight, the door, the next door... not the door in that sense... The handle clicked, they burst into the bedroom, dropped something on the way, Leta gasped, and they began to undress again. The shirt went to the floor, Leta took up the satin belt, then the buttons on the pants, brisk experienced fingers fluttered from one to the other...

“By all the rules, Mr. Scamander,” she purred fiercely, and Theseus sealed her mouth with a kiss, interrupting conversations and spurring on actions.

They stumbled in the dark, collapsed on the bed awkwardly, Leta gasped again; pulled Theseus to herself, let out a low, hungry moan when he thrusted into her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, eagerly moved her hips to meet, felt his back from the loins to the shoulder blades, every vertebra and every rib... Her tongue touched his cheek. The rhythm of the movements - towards, away and towards again - became more harmonious and stronger. The groans became a bit less hungry - it seemed so.

***

The snow outside the window poured more, caught the light of the lanterns outside the window, threw a small scattering of reflected light into the windows. Leta threw off the blanket when Theseus tried to cover her. She was not cold at all: burning maternal blood, even diluted by the British aristocratic, glacial, remained hot enough to warm the naked body inside. Darkness hid her, transformed her dark skin into ebony-black; Theseus did not trust his eyes - tactile memory covered many times more. And was more receptive. More precisely. All this time, there were a thin stockings on Leta; by touch they did not differ at all from her skin, it is not surprising that they went unnoticed. One garter dissolved, stocking moved to the middle of the leg. Theseus pulled him down, lay down at the foot of the bed, untied the satin ribbon, and pulled off the second, held his bare foot in his palm, stroked his ankle.

Leta giggled, wiggled her fingers.

“Ticklish,” she explained in a whisper when Theseus looked at her. "Accio wand..."

“No, that doesn't work like that,” he grinned.

"It works!" She made an angry growl. "You hinder me to concentrate!"

"On what?"

Leta did not answer. Her hairstyle was hopelessly ruined, and Theseus idly pulled the rest of the feathers out of the hair. He spread the strands on the pillows, buried his face in it. At the roots, her hair was slightly damp from sweat and smelled of not expensive perfumes or rubbing, they smelled... just as Leta, as she smells, probably after a bath. Or now, in bed.

Her wand swam into the room: a little uncertain, as if it was also blind in the dark. Then it became clear that they did not even bother to close the door when they burst into the bedroom.

“Lumos,” Leta said.

The light was faint, a little golden, warm; everything that Leta touched became warm.

“You agreed to show me your scars, Mr. Scamander.”

He grunted and fell on his back, spread his arms. Leta’s wand absentmindedly levitated in the air, while Leta herself, sitting on her heels and biting her lip with zeal, examined his body.

"Where does this one come from?" She poked at the round scar under the collarbone.

"From Amiens." Theseus stroked her knee, raised his palm higher. This was the best of all in appearance and in touch: an exciting, carved transition from hip to waist, steep, like that of an amphora, a drop from wide to narrow. "This latest bullet went diagonally, pierced a lung ... I was lucky to be right through. I stayed in the hospital for about two months or so, and then I was commissioned."

"Right through? Is the same on the back?"

Theseus nodded. Letha opened her eyes wide. Her initial playfulness diminished.

"And this one?" Her fingers held across a wide long scar, which crossed the right side and stretched under the shoulder blade.

"I do not remember. One of the first operations. She was so-so prepared. We ran out of bullets, and the bayonets and sabers went into action."

“Why didn't you ask the healers to remove?”

"It's not face." Theseus stretched and yawned.

He simplified intentionally the behavior and tone of the terrible thing he was talking about.

Leta bit her lip again. The next scar was under the ribs on the left side: uneven, ugly, as if a hook were being pulled under the skin, which fish were caught. She vaguely guessed that she left such traces.

"And this one?" Her fingers flinch when touched.

“And this one I got during the Hundred-Day Offensive. I ran into a wizard... I had to fight in a more familiar way."

“Did you carry a wand with you in battle?”

"Yeah. Behind the boot, instead of a knife. I even used it once... instead of a knife."

They met looks.

"You killed him?" Leta's voice has changed.

"Yes. Straight in the eye."

Her lips parted, but Leta changed her mind to speak. Looked away.

“Now I understand why you are the Head Auror,” she said slowly.

“Because I can kill with a wand without magic?”

Leta shook her head.

"Because you do not fluctuate."

Instead of answering, he intercepted her neck, pulled her to him. The sharp face of the pagan goddess approached the face of Theseus.

“Nox,” Leta whispered. The light turned off.

Lips, on which there was no trace of lipstick, pressed to his lips, and Theseus realized that it was equally and absolutely not enough for both of them.

***

They fell asleep in the morning and woke up, barely beginning to get light, to make love again in tacit consent. Silent, like a backwater, Leta listened to his ragged breathe, his moans and tried to keep in mind how they sounded, how the muscles tensed, when he rested on his arms, lifting himself, pushing deeper into her; she tried to memorize the relief of his lean, sinewy, bony and heavy body, the location of the scars on his back, dug her nails in it, wanting to leave her marks on him, even if short-lived, and she vowed to herself that she would never have anyone, never, and then the orgasm cleaned all the efforts, all the oaths and all the hooks to which the memories clung.

It became quite light. He had to get dressed, thank her and leave. So do all random lovers, whose names and faces aren't remembered.

Why does she think about random lovers? She should not think about them. For their sake, she never wanted to throw a bathrobe, to go downstairs, to make coffee and to fry toast without any wands...

Is it also random for Theseus? Maybe that's why everything turned out so easily?

Something must have changed in her face, because Theseus smiled, touched her lips with his fingers. The movements were relaxed, as if he didn’t care about the morning and he wasn’t going anywhere.

"I thought you like my brother."

"No, I always liked you."

He laughed, and Leta laughed hastily with him: it can always be said that tears came out of laughter.

"You are a shameless little liar!"

“Okay, okay...” She dried her eyes. “Newt and I kissed once, when we were fifteen, and after that I decided that he was too good to allow him to plunge.”

Theseus raised his eyebrows.

“So I’m not good enough?”

“No, but I thought you were smart enough not to plunge.”

"Double shameless little liar!"

Letha felt that her lips were trembling, and turned away, pulled the blanket to herself. Yes, a liar, the liar, covering all life the most terrible deception. Even her birth was just a result of deception.

Theseus' fingers slid along her back, circling the vertebrae...

"Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, but did not dare to turn to face him.

“I have to repent of something, Mr. Scamander.”

In his silence, bewilderment was most clearly felt.

“I’m not a Muggle the confessor, Miss Lestrange, and I don’t give absolution.” He also changed the tone.

"Anyway, I have to repent." She exhaled. "Everything that happened... there, at the celebration... and here, in this bed... it happened, because my father wanted it so."

She did not turn around, and Theseus was silent. It was silent for a long time. Life passed, then another, the universe ended, and the silence all lasted and lasted.

Finally it stopped with the simplest:

"I do not understand."

She needed to hurry to explain everything, because too much time had already been lost. Otherwise, others will explain.

"He wanted to have influence on the new Head Auror. And this way, this way... this is proven. And now I repent."

At last, she had the courage to look back.

Theseus looked at her without condemnation or contempt - and, as far as she could judge, he was still not going anywhere. Her heart failed.

"I was so bad?"

It was such an unexpected question that Leta’s tears dried out.

"No!"

They exchanged a tense smiles.

"Well, you seduced me. What was the future plan?"

Leta opened her eyes, unable to believe that he took her revelations so calmly, that he simply dropped its as irrelevant. Maybe Theseus did not understand what she just confessed? No, he understood. Almighty Merlin, he interests in her and nothing else? Nothing at all?

"To get into your trust."

“Congratulations,” Theseus said seriously. He sat down, gently took Letu by the shoulders, and peace enveloped her. "You got."

#theseus scamander #leta lestrange #theseus x leta

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