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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Hangover Duty

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader’s birthday party leads to some rather endearing drunk antics. Category: Fluff Warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption, mentions of the prison arc (is that a proper content warning? idk lol) (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in content warnings! I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Funny story, I woke up at like 3 in the morning last night and just sat up and cranked this out in one go, unprompted. I’m not sure why inspiration struck that late (early?) but I’m rather proud of this one considering I just woke up to edit it a few hours ago 😂, I hope you like it!

***

Watching her gradually get more drunk as the night went on had to be the most amusing and incredibly endearing way to get back into the groove of things. It was nice, actually, being able to have a good time with his friends without constantly being reminded of what's happened in the past year.

Especially considering this year Spencer was determined not to miss Y/N's birthday. Last year he'd been in prison, and rather than being able to celebrate with her and their friends, rather than getting her a card or writing her a letter, she'd written him a letter that detailed in depth how she refused to celebrate until her best friend was there to celebrate with them. Of course he felt awful about the whole thing, and when JJ had dropped off the letters that week, he made her tell Y/N how sorry he was and how he wished more than anything that he could have been there.

And naturally, after dealing with Cat another time and settling his mom down, the first chance he got, he told Y/N himself.

She was in the hospital after that incident with Mr. Scratch. She was the first person he saw in the hospital, and she was fine, arguing with the doctors about leaving to help her team. But once he showed up, telling the doctors he could get her to sit down, they left, and he pulled her in for the biggest hug they'd ever shared.

And the first thing he told her was, "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

She'd only laughed and squeezed him tighter, replying with a short, yet simple, "Shut up."

He promised to himself then that no matter what happened, he would never miss another one of her birthdays again.

Since it was the first one since all that had happened, Spencer planned something a little extra special. Weeks ahead of time, he talked to Rossi about being able to rent out a bar for the night, Y/N's favorite bar to be exact. Just for themselves. As to be expected, it took a bit of convincing, but eventually they'd been able to successfully rent out the bar for one night, and though Rossi was insistent on paying everything, Spencer wanted to offer as much as he could.

Penelope, of course, insisted on putting up decorations. She roped Luke into helping her, and though he played off like it would be torture, for one thing he was happy to help celebrate his friend's birthday in any way he could, but he also was terrible at hiding the fact that he was more than happy to help Penelope with anything she needed, whether it actually pertained to the party or not.

Everyone told her they were all just going to meet up for drinks after work that day. Y/N was more than okay with it, explaining to them how she was just happy to be able to spend her birthday with her friends no matter where they were. They told her to meet at 7pm when in reality they would all be at the bar an hour and a half early to set up and make sure everything was perfect.

When Y/N actually showed up, Spencer had never seen her so radiant. Even as she was swarmed by Garcia putting on a pink party hat for her that promptly read "Birthday Girl", her hair slightly out of place because of its placement on her head, she was the perfect example of human perfection. She greeted everyone with a huge, beautiful smile accompanied by lots of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, and when she finally got to Spencer, he tried not t hold her to him for too long.

One of the reasons Y/N loved this specific bar was because of the karaoke machine. In fact, drunken karaoke was a decent weekly occurrence with the BAU, and while they'd been no strangers to the act, it only became more frequent when Y/N joined the team. For years now they'd spent many hours singing just as many songs as anyone could think of. And even while drunk, Y/N was a natural. She slipped up on words and slurred them together once in a while, sure, but her voice was easily the most impressive of the bunch, not to mention she never failed to get anyone and everyone to join in.

All that to say Spencer made sure they would be able to use the karaoke machine before they rented out the place. He even attempted to teach himself how to work it, but try as he might, he ended up calling on JJ to help him do it.

Throughout the night they all took turns singing songs, and at one point Y/N finished a song and made a speech, standing up on the bar. (Deep down Spencer was a little nervous that she would hurt herself, or that somehow the owner of the bar would find out that she'd broken one of many rules he had about renting the place out. But that was neither here nor there when he saw the glowing smile she had on her face, looking at all her friends with the most love and admiration he'd seen anyone carry in a while.)

"I'm jussali'l tipsy at the moment, so m'sorry if I don't make any sense," Y/N slurred together, obviously very drunk. Everyone laughed and she continued, clutching the microphone in one hand and placing the other over her heart like she was going to say the Pledge of Allegiance. "I jusneed to say how much I love y'guys. Thank you for celebratin' with me and makin' my birthday real special. I'mean, you fricken rented out a whole-ass bar! That's so nice!"

As she squealed out the last sentence, Spencer couldn't help the wide smile that broke out on his face. She was just so radiant, glowing with warmth and love and happiness and everything good in the world.

She was also struggling to get off the bar. He rushed forward to help her, and she fell forward, into his arms with a giggle.

"You okay?" he asked, his concern blowing away in the wind when she looked into his eyes with another winning smile.

"No thanks t'you," she answered, promptly 'boop'-ing him on the nose before she reached over to the bar and grabbed a full shot glass. After downing the drink, she brushed passed him with a slap on the butt and another giggle, right before she loudly asked Penelope to cut her another slice of cake.

Spencer knew she wouldn't have been so bold had she been sober, but the whole situation still made him feel all warm inside, like he'd taken a shot of whiskey himself.

Luke came up to him, clapping him on the back and snapping him out of it. "This mean you and the birthday girl are finally a thing now?"

"W—what? I don't know what you mean..."

He was obviously lying, and Luke could tell. He laughed a little, nodding towards Y/N, who was currently laughing with Emily and Penelope, a bright blue smudge of frosting on her nose. "She really missed you when you were gone, man. Even put her birthday on hold until she could celebrate with you."

"Well, we've been best friends for years, and she loves her birthday. It was... A hard year. It makes sense."

"Okay, that's fair, but do you know how bad it was? No presents, no birthday wishes, nothing. She demanded we act like it was any other day. And when I brought her a cupcake, she just set it on your desk and left it there. It sat there for about a week before she finally threw it out."

Spencer looked at where she was standing, eating more cake and swaying lightly to the music that was now playing over the speakers. "Really," he mused, not even thinking about it.

Luke sighed beside him. "Look, you can... believe what you want, but we've all noticed it. You two are practically inseparable, and the way I'm seeing you look at her right now tells me everything I need to know."

Even being called out like that, Spencer couldn't make himself look away. And even if he did, he wouldn't have really known what to say. Because all that was running through his mind at the moment was how right Luke was. How much he couldn't help but feel warm and safe when he was in Y/N's presence, and how she made him feel like the only person in the world sometimes.

He wondered then if maybe in the next day or two he should tell her how he felt.

One by one each member of the team eventually left the bar to go home. Each time one of them did, Y/N gave them the biggest hug and mumbled an abundance of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, much like at the start of the night, only this time her words were slurred and higher-pitched and very much laced with alcohol.

The only three people left at the end of the night were her, Spencer, and Emily.

Y/N came up between them and wrapped both her arms around their shoulders, pulling them in for a messy group-hug. "How'r we gonna clean this place up?" she asked dramatically, looking around once they all pulled away.

"I'm going to clean this place up," Emily said, giving Spencer a knowing look. "Since it's your birthday, your best friend here is going to make sure you get home safe and sound."

He definitely didn't see that coming, but somehow he felt like he should have. Regardless, he was more than happy to take the job. Especially when Y/N jumped up and down and threw her arms around him, giving a big old, "Yaaayyyy!" into his neck. She pulled away and gripped his shirt, bouncing on her feet with a large grin. "We can take my car and we can listen t'that CD I was tellin' you about and when we get t'my house we can have a sleepover!"

"Anything you want," he told her with a smile. "Go get your stuff together and we'll go."

As she wandered around the bar to find her shoes that she'd taken off somewhere along the line, Emily nudged Spencer with a smile. "She loves you, you know."

"She's drunk," he countered.

And as if on cue, right then she held one of her shoes up in the air with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "One down!"

"Okay, well, even when she's not drunk, she still loves you."

Though his heart swelled at the thought, he changed the subject. "You don't have to clean everything up. I was going to come back tomorrow morning and do it myself anyway."

"Eh, don't worry, I'm happy to do it." Emily nodded towards Y/N, who was walking around with one shoe on and picking up the other on the floor next to the cake table. "Besides, something tells me you're gonna be a bit preoccupied with hangover duty."

I wouldn't want any other job, he thought to himself.

And even though the nearly-impossible task of getting her into the car should have stressed him out (she kept getting out of the car as Spencer walked around to the driver's side, until finally he promised her a cheeseburger if she would stay), he still wouldn't have had it any other way.

They stopped at McDonald's on the way home, like he promised, and she was practically buzzing with happiness with the food in her lap. She made him sit in the parking lot and wait until she was done eating so she wouldn't spill anything. And in the dim light of the car, parked under a streetlight and watching her eat her food while she rambled on about the most random things, Spencer didn't think he'd ever felt more content.

He tried to keep her quiet as they made their way up the steps to the third floor of her apartment building. They were going to take the elevator but Y/N insisted it would eat her alive, and he quickly agreed to take the stairs as not to make a scene and wake everyone up with her crying. Her shoes came off again on the second flight of stairs, because she kept tripping and then laughing, pretending to fall back and almost scaring him to death.

Now he was unlocking her apartment door with her shoes in his other hand as she clung to his side. As soon as the door was open, she pushed past him and called out for her cat, Murphy. It didn't take long before the white cat jumped up on the counter to meet her, and she squealed and enveloped him in a crushing hug, picking him up and spinning around to meet Spencer, who was closing the door behind him and setting her shoes on the ground.

"Say hi to Murphy! He loves when you come to visit!"

It was true. Though he never really found himself fond of cats, as soon as he visited Y/N's apartment for the first time Murphy clung to him immediately. It didn't take long for the two of them to become as well acquainted as Y/N had been to either of them. Whenever he came over, Spencer liked to think of them as a small little family.

"Hey, Murph," he said, reaching out to pet the cat's head as he wriggled a little under Y/N's strong clutch.

She dropped him after shoving her face in his fur, and wasted no time taking Spencer's hand. "C'mon, I've got some vodka in the cupboard."

As she dragged him further into the kitchen, he squeezed her hand and tried to pull her to him, away from the cupboard. "Y/N, it's almost one in the morning, you need to go to bed."

She turned to face him and whined. "But it's my birthday, you can't make me."

"Well, technically it isn't your birthday anymore since it's past midnight. So, really, I can make you. Come on."

She whined again as he dragged her along to the bedroom. Once they got inside, he sat her down on the bed and reached out to pull off her party hat, which was lopsided and almost placed on her forehead like a unicorn horn. But when he touched the string, she grabbed his hand.

"I wanna leave it on," she said softly.

"It's not safe, you could choke yourself in your sleep," Spencer countered, brushing her hand away and taking the hat off. As his fingers brushed her cheek, she sighed and closed her eyes, a few seconds before letting out a little giggle.

"That tickled," she laughed as he set the hat on her bedside table.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he started to feel all warm again. "Sorry," he whispered, taking the time to memorize the way she looked right then. The curls in her hair had fallen flat, and her makeup was a little smudged, but the lazy smile on her face and the way she blinked up at him with her big, beautiful eyes would always be worth remembering. He could have stayed in that moment forever, just sitting in that comforting silence.

But alas, she was drunk, and unable to be quiet for more than ten seconds.

Y/N lightly poked him in the chest and laughed. "Hey, d'y'think Murphy ever gets tired?"

"I'm sure he does," was all Spencer said, trying to get her to lay down. She did so as she spoke, rambling on about what she thought her cat might have done when she was away at work. But she stopped talking altogether when Spencer tried to put a blanket over her.

"No," was all she said, kicking her legs up.

"You don't want a blanket?"

"No, I want you to be in the blanket with me."

He thought about it for a second before motioning for her to scoot over. "I'll lay with you for a little while, but you have to promise me you'll go to sleep, okay?"

She giggled triumphantly as he laid down beside her and draped the blanket over their legs. "I told'ya a sleepover would be fun."

Spencer reached out and lightly rubbed her arm, knowing that always got her to fall asleep. "I know you did."

But she didn't close her eyes. She was unusually quiet though, just silently staring at his face before she sharply pulled her arm away. "You're tickling me again."

"I thought you liked when I rub your arm, it helps you sleep," is all he said.

Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled it up to lay between them on the pillow, separating their faces. She placed it palm up and rolled up his sleeves so she could rub his forearm, too. Her touches weren't as light, but she giggled all the same. "Am I tickling you?"

He wanted to tell her the truth, which was that she was not tickling him, and it actually felt really nice. But because it might make her feel better, he lied, and told her, "Yes."

"Good," she laughed, moving her hand faster. Now she was just tracing his forearm with her middle finger like she might rub out a stain on the carpet, and Spencer tried to wiggle his arm away.

"Y/N..."

He didn't say it to be mean or irritated, in fact his voice was level and soothing as not to alarm her at all, but all the same she gasped and immediately pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"No," he reassured, moving a little closer to her. "You didn't hurt me, I'm ok—"

"Let me kiss it and make it feel better," she continued, ignoring him completely. Before he could stop her, she grabbed his arm and brought it to her mouth, pressing gentle lips to the crease of his elbow trough the fabric of his shirt, then moving the tiny kisses along up his arm until she made it to his wrist. She didn't stop there, continuing to kiss the palm of his hand and even along his fingers, right until she reached his fingertips.

He laid there, completely still and mesmerized as she flipped his arm over and worked her way down again, kissing the backside of his hand and keeping her lips pressed to his wrist for approximately four seconds. Then she flipped his arm over again and kissed the palm of his hand once more, repeating her many kisses until she got to his middle finger.

He should have seen it coming.

He was so caught up in the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin that it completely slipped his mind that she was still drunk. So when she wrapped her lips around his middle finger and sucked it into her mouth with a laugh, he pulled his arm away and sighed.

She actually cackled with laughter, slightly flailing her legs under the blanket. "Gotcha!"

"Ha-ha," Spencer deadpanned, wiping his finger on his shirt.

He wasn't really sure what to say once her laughter died down, but once he opened his mouth to suggest they try sleeping, she spoke first.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

He studied her for a moment. "You're not going to try anything funny, are you?"

She laughed, leaning forward and brushing her nose against his for the briefest of seconds before retreating and looking him in the eye. "I wouldn't dream of it."

There was no way he could say no. "Alright. I'll be back in a second."

Spencer got out of the bed and turned to leave, but she leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "Wait! I have to tell you a secret first."

If he stayed and listened to what she had to say, it was probably dangerous territory, because in the movies this was always the moment where there were drunken confessions of things you never wanted to say out loud, right? And he didn't want to do that to her, but realistically she was probably going to say something ridiculous about Murphy. Right?

Nonetheless, Spencer turned around and looked down at Y/N. "What is it?"

She pulled his hand, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "Come closer. It's a secret."

He leaned down, but she pulled him again. "Closer!"

Finally, he made his way down to her face, turning his head so she could whisper in his ear.

But she didn't. Instead he felt her press a kiss to his cheek, emphasized with a loud smooch-ing sound when she pulled away. He looked down at her to see the biggest smile on her face.

"S'all I wanted to say. You can go now."

He smiled back at her before nodding and leaving the room, his cheek and arm practically burning from where she'd kissed them.

And when he came back with her water, she was fast asleep.

***

More than anything she just wanted the banging to stop. But once she realized it was in her head, and it was there because she'd been drinking all night, her irritability was even worse.

"Fuck," Y/N grumbled as she struggled to open her eyes. When she did open them she found Murphy curled into a ball at the foot of her bed, his white fur a stark contrast to the deep maroon color of her comforter.

The next thing she noticed was the smell of something... burning? But there wasn't any sound to be heard other than the beating of her head, so she had to wonder if maybe somewhere outside there had been some kind of fire. Or maybe she was just imagining it.

She wasn't going to investigate, but then she heard her front door open, and despite the pounding in her head, Y/N sat up straight, almost scared out of her mind. Instinctively she reached beside her, knocking over a pink party hat in the process, and grabbing the baseball bat she kept there in between her bed and the table.

As quietly as she could, Y/N crept through the bedroom until she reached the door, pressing her ear against it to hear anything more. She heard plastic bags rustling around, and though that was fairly innocent in terms of menacing sounds, it still didn't quell the feeling that punched her in the pit of her stomach. Though, to be fair, she was certain a lot of that had to do with the copious amounts of whiskey and other liquor she drank the night before.

She took a deep breath before slowly swinging the door open and taking a few quiet steps into the hallway, just before she had to turn the corner to get into the kitchen. The noise got louder as she approached, and after taking another slow, deep breath, Y/N jumped out and held her bat out in front of her.

"FBI! What Are you doing in my house?"

"Holy shit!"

Spencer was standing in her smoky kitchen, clutching his hand to his chest. "Y/N, it's just me! Put the bat down!"

It clattered to the ground as she sighed out and shook her head. "What the hell, man, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Right back at you! I was just bringing you some breakfast..."

Y/N surveyed the kitchen and found that, sure enough, there were what looked like wrapped sandwiches on the counter. "Why is it all... burn-y in here? What happened?"

Spencer looked around nervously, his hands fumbling at his sides. "I, uh... tried to make you French toast. I know it's your favorite, and I know that greasy food is supposed to help with hangovers, so I tried to make some bacon, too, but it turns out that I really suck at multi-tasking in the kitchen, and I burned it all... So, I went with gas-station breakfast, which I figured was the next best thing."

The way he spoke reminded Y/N of a little kid who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to. He was extremely apologetic, almost in a way that made her think he thought she'd yell at him.

Now she remembered just a little of what happened the night before. She remembered drinking a lot and then Spencer taking her home, but she was so tired and out of it that all the little details weren't clear. Or present at all, really. All she knew when she looked at him in her kitchen right then, was that she'd never been more happy to see anyone while hungover. Especially since that someone happened to be her best friend and brought her breakfast.

She smiled and walked over to him. "That was really sweet of you, thank you."

Spencer looked down at her and smiled. "Sorry about scaring you."

"Eh, don't be. It was a good wake-up call," she laughed. "What would I do without you?"

He reached his hand out and brushed some of the hair from her face, at which she almost melted. "I think I should be asking you that question."

Something came to her mind just then, and she wasn't sure why. But she took the risk anyway, turning her head and kissing the inside of his palm.

"W—what was that for?"

Y/N shrugged. "I don't know. Just felt right."

She didn't know how long they stood there, smiling at each other, but it felt different, like suddenly the air around them had shifted overnight into something palpably electric. And it's that energy that urged her to say something she'd been afraid to say for so long.

"Hey, I uh... I don't know if this is weird timing, and you can say no even though it was my birthday yesterday, don't feel pressured to say yes, but I—"

"Yes."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't care," Spencer said simply. "Whatever it is you want, it's yours."

"So, if... If I asked you to dinner tonight—"

"Yes."

Her stomach churned, but this time it had nothing to do with the hangover. The pounding in her head was more of a dull thrum now because the pounding in her heart overpowered it. And it grew even more intense when her best friend took a step closer, placing his hand to the side of her face.

"I wouldn't kiss me right now if I were you," she warned, tilting her head to the side. "Hangover breath is basically a bio-hazard, and you're going to completely rethink going out with me."

Spencer shook his head and leaned in even closer. "I don't care."

As he kissed her, she lost herself in him completely and came to the conclusion that he was the only hangover cure she would ever need.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff

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kerikaaria · 3 years

Text

Premiere

(Jungkook x gn!Reader) Oneshot, Established relationship

Genre: (G) Fluff

Warnings: None!

WC: 1.8k

Description: You’d do anything for your boyfriend, even if that meant sitting through the premiere for a horror movie.

A/N - Written for the lovely @aroseforyoongi ‘s birthday! We were given random prompts by picking two random numbers. My words were: Dedication and horror. AND I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. HORROR???? I couldn’t figure out where to go with that! So I’m also giving a HUGE thanks to @eternalseokjin for being amazing and giving me the basis for this little oneshot!

Happy birthday, Dianchie! I wish you all the best, always.

You hated horror movies.

It was a mystery to you how people actually enjoyed being scared out of their wits as they watched a killer hunt everyone down, or a ghost slowly drove its victims to insanity. So why, one may ask, were you currently on your way to the opening premiere of a horror movie?

Simple—you loved your boyfriend much more than you hated horror movies.

Jungkook had been working hard at his dream of being an actor, getting his hands on any role he could. With each job, he hoped the right people would manage to see him and his potential in the few scenes and fewer lines he was offered and be able to make his big break.

This was the first big step to that for him. With a little luck, the director had picked Jungkook out at the auditions and offered him the lead role for the movie. And even luckier, it was a movie that a lot of people were looking forward to and was projected to do fairly well. If it did go as well as hoped, then maybe this could lead to that big break he’d been hoping for for years.

What kind of person would you be if you didn’t agree to attend with your loving boyfriend to the movie premiere of what could be the start of the future of his career? So of course, you agreed to come. Jungkook was really apprehensive when he asked if you wanted to go, knowing your severe aversion to horror movies, and you were absolutely sure he would have understood if you said no. But there was no way you could do that to him. If he could sit through hours of those family gatherings your grandma set up every year and deal with the back-handed comments from relatives you hardly knew about how he’s wasting his time on his dream, you could do this for him. It couldn’t be that much more torturous than that, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself while you were attached to Jungkook’s arm, a smile on your face for the cameras. Much more important than your anxiety of sitting through the movie was the crucial real-life role you knew you had to play for Jungkook right now. He would never say it out loud in fear of putting pressure on you, but you knew that he needed you for support. The cameras couldn’t pick up the subtle hints you knew all too well that meant your introverted boyfriend was extremely nervous about making a good impression, and about how well the movie and his acting would be received by viewers. It was easy to shut down the anxiety when you knew he was relying on you to be a pillar for him.

As soon as the two of you made it into the room and found your seats you could feel Jungkook relax, body feeling lighter after being able to get away from the reporters’ questions and prying eyes. He loosened your grip on his arm so he could properly entwine his fingers with yours, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he leaned toward you.

“Thank you for coming, baby,” Jungkook whispered against your skin before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “I appreciate you being here with me.”

“Of course,” you responded, turning to smile at him. “You know I’m always here to support you.”

“Let me know if the movie gets to be too much for you, okay?” Jungkook said, squeezing your hand once more. “We can leave at any point if you need to.”

You had absolutely no plans to cut this short for him. Even if turned out to be the scariest thing you’d ever seen, you were already steeling yourself to sit through the entire film. But to comfort Jungkook, you assured him that you’d indeed tell him if you felt like you had to leave.

Once the lights dimmed to signal that the movie was about to start, you felt the anxiety you’d kept at bay start to crawl its way up your chest. You kept it tampered down for the time being, reminding it that these movies didn’t start out with the really creepy stuff and you still had some time before the ghost was going to do anything.

It was made even easier when you first saw your handsome boyfriend appear on the screen only a few minutes in. You always watched everything he was in, no matter how small the role was. But now that he was the main focus and in the center, you couldn’t help but to be even more proud of him than ever.

Jungkook loved to learn every detail he could about his craft, including having an interest in directing and filmmaking as well. Days spent listening to him critique filming techniques made you also moderately familiar with the subject. While the movie wasn’t doing anything much different than you’d expect from this kind of film, you immediately noticed everything that set up the mood for a horror story. The desaturated and dark tones, soft ambient music and sounds in the background rather than a full-sounding soundtrack, and the ominous feeling behind Jungkook’s character being left a whole estate by a rich relative he had hardly even heard about. It was honestly incredibly well set-up, even if the plot was a bit predictable so far.

By distracting yourself with picking apart the details of how the film was setting up the story and admiring Jungkook’s talent and good looks, you almost forgot what kind of movie you were watching.

Almost.

When the first genuine jump scare happened about half an hour into the film, it held up to its name by making you nearly jump out of your seat. Even though he kept it quiet, you could tell Jungkook held back the chuckle that bubbled up due to your overreaction. He quickly steeled his expression though, leaning in to whisper, “You doing okay so far?”

“Yeah,” you were quick to respond. “I was just distracted.”

“Distracted? By what?”

“By how talented you are, of course,” you easily answered.

Seeing the hint of a shy smile on Jungkook’s face and the tension in the movie having calmed down for the time being put your restless heart temporarily at ease.

But of course, it wasn’t too long until the horror aspect of the movie was pulling into full swing and it was ominous music, jump scares, and creepy old ghost lady creeping around every corner galore. You tried to continue distracting yourself with the well-done editing and admiring your boyfriend some more, but it only went so far. Especially when your mind forgot to remind you that what you were seeing on screen was fiction and not your actual boyfriend in danger.

After a while, you gave up trying to actually see what was going on and hid your face in Jungkook’s arm, letting the close proximity remind you that he was indeed safe and sound next to you.

“Should we leave?” Jungkook gently asked, whispering close to one ear while he covered the other with his hand to help mute the sounds of the movie for you.

You shook your head, determined to make it through this. “I’ll be okay,” you meekly replied after lifting your head up so he could hear you. “How much longer, do you think?”

“It should be getting close to the climax, and then it’ll be a lot calmer. Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

“I can do it,” you assured him. You turned your head back toward the screen in time to see Jungkook’s character running down a hallway to try to get some distance from the ghost. I can do it, you repeated in your mind.

Honestly, you would have preferred a slasher flick. Demon ghosts had too much power and were too unpredictable in what they could do, and the idea of fighting something virtually intangible scared the living daylights out of you. But this was your current reality and you were going to make it through this for Jungkook.

He was right, and it wasn’t too long before the climax began building up. It was a little easier to bear despite the increasing tension, knowing that Jungkook’s character was close to stopping ghost lady—you certainly hadn’t paid enough attention to find out if she had a name. Soon enough, the climax of the movie hit its peak and things started settling down to a much more manageable finish.

It took another five minutes for you to realize you were still clinging tightly to Jungkook’s arm out of reflex. Letting go, you mumbled out an apology for no doubt hurting him and telling yourself to remember and check him for bruises later.

When the credits finally rolled, you felt infinitely more relieved. You slumped in your seat, Jungkook not holding back his chuckle this time.

Before long everyone was shuffling out of the theater and while Jungkook smiled endearingly at you, you were listening to what others had to say about the movie. It relaxed you and put a smile on your face when you heard people complimenting Jungkook’s acting and about the plot twists that they didn’t expect—and you didn’t really know about because you were too busy burrowing into your boyfriend’s shoulder to notice.

You were glad the two of you lived together because even just walking out to your car in the dark had you constantly looking over your shoulder, expecting a murderous demon ghost lady to be on your tail. On the way home, the two of you kept conversation light by talking about how well you thought it went. Jungkook was still nervous about what the reception would be like, but he was much more excited now as well.

It was when the two of you were laying in bed that Jungkook said, “You know, I’m really proud of you for making it through the movie, baby.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes. “Good to know me watching a fictional horror film all the way through is such an accomplishment to be proud of.”

“You ran out of the room when we watched ‘Haunted Mansion’ because you thought it was too scary,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“It was! There’s a crystal ball with a floating head in it! How is that not scary?”

“The head wasn’t actually in there. Sorry to tell you babe, but a movie with a singing statue quartet isn’t scary.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, running out of juice to argue.

“Seriously though,” Jungkook said after a moment passed. “I really am proud of you. And I’m really happy you chose to come with me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“I love you,” you said in return, knowing he’d understand that those three words held a lot more meaning than just that.

“And I love you.” Jungkook smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

You would readily do this again for Jungkook if he ever starred in another horror film. But that didn’t mean you’d stop being a big clingy scaredy-cat about it.

My ask box is always open!

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :) You can also check out my Etsy shop for BTS inspired charms as well!

#bts fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #fluff #actor!jungkook #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #kafenetwork

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forevfangirlwrites · 3 years

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I love your how to handle fame series and I totally get if you’re six of writing for this AU but if you aren’t I’d love one with them making the relationship official like Annabeth telling Percy he can post a picture of them for the first time or her telling him she wants to make it official and post on social media and Percy just being happy to tell the world that she’s his and vice versa

CONTINUATION OF: PART 9

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8

If Percy ever decides to pick up the memoir business again, the entire thing could be about the past two days, which have downright been the weirdest, most surreal days of his whole life.

On second thought, maybe he wouldn’t be able to write it because he’s spent all weekend trying to compartmentalize it and it still feels like a blur.

Like one really long day.

And you’d think, given the magnitude of the events that had occurred, he’d remember it better.

CHB had been the first to report the news, courtesy of that lady shoving a mic in his face, but the interview had really sealed the deal. Zoe Nightshade is acclaimed for reporting facts not fiction in the celeb news world, so going on her show to talk about it had been the best way to get the right version of the story out there.

All he remembers about the set are the hot lights, the white couch (that he was immediately worried about ruining) and Annabeth by his side, holding his hand.

Overall, it had been good. The entire thing had been premeditated by Annabeth, who had started off the interview explaining how they wanted to go public on their own terms instead of someone else leaking it, but that they still wished to keep their personal lives private.

Percy had also kept to his premeditated script, saying he’s a barista from New York, and shifting the dialogue (as Annabeth called it) to their meeting.

After the interview Annabeth had given him a big hug and told him it was a success.

But then…..oh then, came The Notifications™.

As if he didn’t already spend too much time on his phone, he’s been glued to it all weekend.

“It’s going to be rough,” Annabeth had said with the same worried face that she had when the talk about going public had come up a month ago.

And Percy knows, right, he’s been in the service industry and knows how people can be jerks. He knows there’s going to be backlash.

Maybe that’s why Annabeth had rented a beach house far down the coast and been by his side constantly the past two days.

He glances over at her, leaning back on her comfy wicker chair with her feet propped, reading a book. As if she can tell he’s looking at her, she puts down her book and turns to face him.

“What’s up?’

Her long legs look golden in the sunlight filtering through the light curtains and she’s practically glowing with the beach air wafting through the open window.

Long story short, she looks beautiful.

Focusing his brain from the detour it took to admire her, he shakes his head.

“Nothing…just wondering how I got here.”

She picks up her cup of tea from the table beside her. “What do you mean?”

Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, he stares at the high planked ceiling.

“I don’t know…just everything. I mean for one, I’ve never seen so many pictures of myself…even my mom’s albums would have a tough time competing…actually, they might still win now that I think about it.”

Annabeth chuckles at that. And while it’s true his mom has an absurd amount of pictures, him and Annabeth have been plastered a fair amount on various articles and social media. He’d kept his Instagram private, but his Twitter hadn’t stopped blowing up.

“And I’ve never had this many people talk or…speculate about me.” He drops his gaze from the ceiling to once again land on her. “Like, it’s the most hate I’ve ever gotten…”

The inevitable comments on him being a gold digger, though expected, had been hard to see. It stung a little to think people thought he was anything other than hopelessly in love with his girlfriend.

But no one had been more pissed than Annabeth and it had taken kisses from him to distract her.

He sees the same anger and worry start to flare up now, her eyebrows already creasing together, and rushes to complete his thought.

“But it’s also the most support I’d gotten.”

Luckily, an overwhelming majority of Annabeth’s fans had been super supportive of them. One picture in particular, one of them standing at the red carpet staring into each other’s eyes, had gone viral and “Percabeth” (as people were dubbing them) had been number one on trending for a whole day.

So many people not only calling them cute, but also describing him as hot. Percy had almost laughed out loud when he’d first read comments gushing about how attractive he was. (Take that, Nancy Bobofit, who called him ugly in middle school.)

“It’s just really crazy I guess, I never expected this from my life.”

He really should write a memoir. Other people need to know how almost comically absurd his life is now. (It would start with riding the subway to school every day.)

Annabeth sits up in her chair, still wearing the frown from earlier.

“Do you regret it?”

She asks calmly enough, but he can see the worry behind her eyes and the fear creep into her tone. He slides off the bed and walks to her, sitting on the footstool she’d been propping her feet on a second ago.

“Not at all.”

Reaching for her hand, he raises it to her lips, keeping eye contact. She needs to know that he’d take it all if it means he gets to be with her.

The day after the interview, Annabeth had told him to pick out a picture of them to post on her Instagram. And though it had immediately become her most liked picture, it wasn’t just fan service. The smile on her face when she posted it had made Percy’s heart melt even more.

Because the truth is, despite everything, it feels so good to call her his in front of the whole world.

Annabeth smiles, pulling their intertwined hands close to her and resting her cheek against them.

“Good.”

His phone vibrates and he can’t help but look over. Annabeth smiles, amusedly. “Who is it?”

He reaches for the device, unlocking it with a swipe. “My mom.”

“What’s she saying?”

He smiles as he reads the text. “That her friends are blowing up about this.”

Annabeth chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll blow over soon.”

Almost automatically, he opens up Twitter. It’s become a bad habit over the past two days. “Well, we have been trending for a while…”

His sentence veers off as he checks the trending tab. Number one this morning had been a kpop star whose birthday was today and “Percabeth” had been second.

But now number one was…Jogan Paul, who had apparently been caught in some money laundering scheme and become the center of all public outrage. Number two was still the kpop star and number three was #ultranatural.

“Percabeth” was nowhere to be found.

“You’re right…we’re not trending anymore, some other guy, Jogan did a—”

“Money laundering scheme?” Annabeth finishes and he looks up from his phone to see her smile over her tea.

“Yeah…everyone’s talking about him….and then it’s a k—”

“Kpop idol? Yeah, it’s P-Dawn’s birthday,” Annabeth finishes again.

Percy stares at her.

Annabeth, after posting the Instagram photo, hadn’t checked her phone almost all weekend, letting him look at everything going on.

So how could she know all this? He’s pretty sure she hasn’t checked her phone in hours, instead working her way though her book.

“Yeah…” he continues, still confused. “So we’re not trending anymore. This Jogan guy really messed stuff up…”

Annabeth shrugs, still smiling. “That’s how it goes, people move on from things quickly.”

He nods. He knows this. And personally he’s glad that they’re not the main topic of conversation now. It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He puts down his phone with a smile.

“Yeah, it’s fortunate that this guy messed up, really took the eyes off of us.”

Of course, not all the eyes. Annabeth’s fans will still talk about it, but now the media has something juicer to report on.

“Yeah, fortunate,” Annabeth repeats, lifting her cup again to take a sip, but she can’t hide her smile.

Something about this feels…

“Did you know about this?”

Annabeth just takes a sip of her tea.

Peering over the cup, she replies sweetly, “Did you know the season finale of Ultranatural is on tonight?”

And that’s all the answer he needs.

(So he naturally responds by picking her up and tossing her in bed, letting her laughs bounce off the high ceilings as he wraps her in a hug, thinking that there needs to be a whole chapter in his memoir about just how smart his girlfriend is.)

A/N: As I said in the beginning, this is the continuation to the last chapter in the how to handle fame series. Thank you for sending in the prompt! It’s been a popular one and I had a whole storyline for it (though I did include the insta pic :)

When I came up with this plotline I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head that Annabeth would totally mastermind the entire thing and make sure that their relationship didn’t get too much heat.

Plus, let’s be real, news moves fast, and their relationship, while a big thing, isn’t the only thing going on the world for people to talk about. And stories that spark outrage blow up more than two people dating, so I tried to keep this as realistic as I could.

Part of the reason it’s taken so long for this is because I truly wasn’t sure the best way to tackle this whole thing while still staying true to reality as best I could. So when I thought of the Annabeth planning out this whole thing I thought it was fun and cute and went for it. I mean this entire series has taken off in a way I had truly never imagined.

A lot of people had requested the whole going public thing and how it would play out, so I really hope you guys liked this! (And thank you anon for sending in the prompt I used to post this :)

(Also a lot of references to things that have happened semi-recently so lmk if you’ve figured them out, not that they’re that hard lol)

#percy and annabeth #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth au #actress annabeth #barista percy

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madsdefencesquad · 3 years

Text

another kevison fanfic none of you asked for (also on ao3):

[Thread] Who's the nicest celeb you've met in real life?

Kevin Pearson. Was an extra for one of his movies and couldn’t be any nicer. Chatted with us even though technically you weren’t supposed to. He joked around a lot and showed us pics of his family. Real top bloke.

I met this guy once on vacation in Italy. We were at a table next to him and my newborn was screaming bloody murder, mom was in the bathroom. Couldn’t quite calm my son and I was getting real embarrassed with the loud noise. Some of the waiters came over to their table to ask if they wanted to move but Kevin shut them down immediately. Actually got a bit cross that they even suggested it. His wife suggested to rock my baby on the side to make him stop and he did! She knows a few tricks having twins and stuff. Also shared that joy/misery thing of being first time parents. Anyway, they left first (they got there earlier) and we learned after that they paid for our meals too. Couldn’t believe it.

replied: Wow. That’s the so fucking nice of them.

replied: Yeah made my wife cry haha

I’ve heard only good things about him too! My mom lives in Philly and his brother was running for city council a few years back and he was there and took photos with all the Korean mamas including my own and my grandma! apparently he smells really expensive :P

Didn’t know that I was fully chatting up his wife at Starbucks until I saw a pic of them at the premiere for one of his movies. I’d be embarrassed by my god she was fantastic! 10/10 would’ve gone for it if I wasnt such a potato

replied: And wasn’t married.

replied: That too

My daughter was an extra on one of his movies and says he’s the nicest guy and “such a dad” lol! And her dad’s a real “dad” dad so for her to say that about a famous actor is funny

I used to teach his kids in my kindergarten class. Daughter’s wicked smart. I can tell you all the mothers would have a fit every time he’d come by to pick them up and if it’s not his wife or them together, it’s him. Very hands on. I’d say that counts for nice.

Rocked out to a Lady Gaga show with him and his wife in Vegas. His wife and I are practically best friends now! We’re on first name basis ;)

replied: Sounds fun! What were they there for if you don’t mind me asking? Coz isn’t he like sober now?

replied to a reply: I think it was for a niece’s birthday or something? Couldn’t remember, was pretty wild night :P And I didn’t see any drinks.Even his wife wasn’t drinking I think? They were literally there to enjoy Gaga like the rest of us

I love hearing stories about him like this because it always looks like he’s such a pretentious pretty boy jerk especially back in the day

replied: Getting your life sorted can change a man

replied to a reply: Yeah he’s pretty mellowed out since getting sober. He’s had that DUI and rehab stint but now he’s a real family man and seems to love his wife very much. Good for him.

Doesn’t he remind you of George Clooney? Got married late and had boy girl twins and is loving life!

replied: True!!

Not sure if everybody knows but his wife Madison is pretty big in the interior design space especially coz she like pretty much runs their fam construction business. I follow her on Insta and I know everyone has a crush on Kevin but I’d pick her over him any day!

replied: OMG YES SAME! She puts together these amazing DIY palettes and I’m obsessed! I’d also pick her over him any day even just to pick her brain

replied to a reply: She also recommends the best books!!!

My mom’s in the planning side of construction and met his wife in West Chester. She did a presentation and afterwards her and my mom shared parenting tips like they’re in some mom club. Apparently she was the sweetest and her babies are adorable and also Kevin calls a lot lol

Met him at the airport, wife’s a huge fan of the manny so sucked my gut to ask for a pic. When he found out it’s for the missus, he recorded a special vid saying his iconic line. Missus was over the moon. Real good fella

replied: MANNY SAY WHAAATTTTT

replied: That’s so nice

replied: He did for my mom as well! All the moms love him!

Kevin Pearson helped re-build my grandparents’ burned down convenience store. Couldn’t thank him enough even if I tried

replied: Wow, that’s real generous. How are the grandparents?

replied to a reply: Thanks! They’re over the moon. They have a house near the area but gran said he’d come by with his kids from time to time. Even if gran didn’t want to, they always insisted to pay for whatever the kids wanted.

Delivered the cake for his uncle (grandpa’s?) wedding and he gave a seriously generous tip. Oh and his wife packed me pigs in the blanket.

replied: Pigs in the blanket?! What in the middle school

replied: Apparently it was the uncle/grandad’s favorite or something and they double ordered. But who cares free food!

replied to a reply: Did it come with ketchup?

replied to a reply: Hot, wrapped in foil and handful of ketchup packets. I felt like one of the kids

Not him but his brother who’s like a big shot in politics right now. Real top guy and had the best laugh

This doesn’t sound real but I’ve bumped into him literally five times over the past year he’ll probably think I’m some stalker. Rarely saw him without his family and once his kid threw a ball at me. He apologised but c’mon you either throw a ball or bounce it no big deal. Besides, that kid has David Beckham’s kids manners. Real like English folk polite it’s insane

replied: That’s always nice to hear that celebrity kids aren’t spoiled brats. We know a few good of them are

replied to a reply: Celebrity kids are different from kid celebrities though

replied to a reply: Didn’t say they were the same? Just saying that for a kid of someone so rich and famous you’d think they’d be a bit more spoiled but they weren’t at all and was beyond respectful and that’s a testament to the parents.

replied to a reply: Agree. I’ve met this particular celebrity’s kids and mind you they’re teens now but god they were just awful and pretentious. Even more than their famous parent which is saying something

Not him but I did meet that actress that was so embarrassingly flirty around him during the press conference of hat film he did a few years back. She’s a real bitch and so fake and I’m so glad she’s been dropped from the sequel

replied: Oh god yeah I remember her. She was so obnoxious laughing at everything he said like stfu it’s not that funny!!!! The secondhand embarrassment watching her and him being all polite about it *chills*

replied: She’s the worst. No talent

replied to a reply: I was an extra for some scenes in that movie and she was WAY worse and such a diva for someone unknown. Kevin’s a real nice guy though and just let her be. He talks about his wife and kids a lot but she would not take a hint!

replied to a reply: That is just embarrassing

Alright story time. Was working as a barista at a cafe and it was one of those really shitty days. He came in, ordered and waited and was all nice and took some pics with fans. Anyway, like I said shitty day so I mixed up his coffee order and got him two lattes instead of cappuccinos. Mind you, it was a busy asf day as well and I was the only one making coffees. He comes over and tells me and I apologise but by this time my manager’s already all up on my ass for serving Kevin Pearson incorrectly. He kept apologising to him and berating me till Kevin himself stepped in and told the manager off. But like calmly and stuff like it’s no big deal and people make mistakes whatever and I kid you fucking not he apologised to me too and said I was doing a good job. He probably won’t know how much that meant to me after an already shitty as day but it did. I made sure to make him the best fucking cappuccinos

replied: I’ve met him in irl too and he is this!

I saw him sitting at a cafe with his daughter. Super nice. Asked him if I could get an autograph for my mom who’s a huge fan. He asked me some questions about her and wrote a really nice autograph, for her. His daughter stuck one of her stickers on there too and my mom loved that even more. I told him where she works (at a grocers) and he went out of his way to shop there the next day and made a point to look for her and chat. Great, great dude

replied: That is so fucking cool man. And your mom must’ve been so happy!

replied to a reply: She was over the moon! She loves his wife too! Apparently she was even chattier than Kevin haha

Met him at the airport. I was an employee and he had some TSA questions. Genuinely nice and friendly, chatted for about 15min. After he was set, we shook hands, he had his kids say thank you individually with a high five. Adorable. His wife was super nice and friendly too. Very good social interaction, would participate again

#i got boooooooored again #so here's something none of you asked forrrrr #this was fun though haha #kevison #kevin and madison #kadison #kevison fanfics #kevison fanfic #tiu #Kevin's all the happily married celeb dads out there gushing about their wife and kids #and he's just so happy and content and full #like good for u gurl #this is probably not the last one lezbereal #I can already imagine them during award shows and what the people working have observed lol #anywhooo #for kevison nation #my fave nation #had to get this out there before I lose it!#I'll answer the asks after I promise illyyyy

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anywhozits · 3 years

Text

All I Really Want Chapter 8

Rating: M

Pairing: Hansanna now / Kristanna eventuallyyy

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Chapter Summary: Anna still celebrates her 15th birthday.

Notes: Thank you for reading!! Warnings in this chapter include profane conversations and underage drinking.

READ ON AO3 HERE

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices echoed through the entryway of the Larsen’s Newport Peninsula beach house.

Hans flipped the light switch and several grinning faces beamed back; hands raised in an excited stupor.

“Happy birthday, Anna!” The chorus echoed.

Anna’s eyes lit up as she scanned the crowd—all her best friends were there. Kristoff, of course. Sven, Olaf, Ryder, Ashley, Bebe.

They’d hung a banner, somewhat shoddily painted by the likes of probably Kristoff, and the gesture made tears prickle in Anna’s eyes.

Hans threw a hand over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Thought you deserved a rager, too.”

Anna laughed, tears still prickling. The fact that he thought she deserved anything…

And then she turned her head and saw Elsa, cheeks still red from her tipsiness, and Anna lost it into quiet sobs. “Thank you, guys!” She could barely choke this out.

“Ashley and Bebe arranged the whole drink situation and I think that’s in the kitchen? If we all wanted to do a round.” Hans’s hand had floated down distinctly to Anna’s ass. Her cheeks burned.

When she noticed that Kristoff had narrowed his eyes at the pair of them, she bit her lip nervously.

Was Hans right?

No? No. Nonono. Forget this, Anna. Forget. It.

And she did.

Music started blasting from who the hell knew where, but it was Pony by Ginuwine which meant this was officially a rager, and Anna was already so drunk she felt a little wobbly. But she was also super excited for this shot.

Because there were so many people who loved her and it was her birthday and she spent the first bit with her parents and Elsa and now all her friends…

Whew. Deep Breaths.

The emotions overwhelmed her again and she felt the tears flowing, but she trudged into the kitchen anyway.

Kristoff had beaten them there by a mile and already poured all the Don Julio shots into tiny red plastic cups, handing them out with a smile and a wink (to Anna at least).

“Anna, happy birthday,” he said, smiling, raising his plastic cup.

Her heart fluttered a little and she just knew her cheeks had turned a deeper shade of crimson.

“Anna, hi! God, it feels like I haven’t seen you in five-ever.”

Anna giggled. “Hi, Olaf.” Her eyes narrowed when she saw her friend holding one of the shot glasses. Olaf said he didn’t want to drink until college. Good on him, she thought. Knowing the massive hangover, she would have tomorrow made her think Olaf had a sixth sense. “What are you drinking?”

“Red bull.”

She laughed heartily at that one. “Red Bull? I’m gonna have to send you on a run along the beach to get all that energy out.”

“I’m great!” He exclaimed way too excitedly.

“Okayyy, attention, attention!” Sven cupped his hand over his mouth to give himself a little extra volume over the beats of Pony. “Anna is 15! And happy surprise party to her – tonight, we drink. Thanks to Hans for arranging this little shindig. Thanks to us for getting the party started. Are we ready?”

Everybody cheered.

“Then without further ado… arriba, abajo, al centro, al dentro.”

Ashley and Bebe had naturally forgotten the salt and the limes and literally any chaser other than red bull, so Sven was met with many horrified coughs. But at least now the job was done.

Anna jumped up and down. She thought the tequila hit her instantly. “Hot tub?!”

“Beers to go!” Hans opened the fridge and started chucking Coronas to everyone as the ran out to the front yard.

It was completely pitch black already. Nobody could see anything but the eternal blackness of the boardwalk, the sand, and the ocean. Even the BBQ area and the hot tub were hard to discern. Still, soon enough everybody shed their clothes and hopped in, realizing a little too late that the hot tub was not, in fact, hot and instead actually somewhat cold. But they were too tipsy to care.

They were all squeezed in – Elsa and Anna next to each other, with Hans to Anna’s right and Ryder to Elsa’s left. The rest had filed in wherever they saw fit.

“Hey, uh—Elsa. I hear you’re going to Pomona?” Ryder asked in an especially friendly manner.

“Yes. I’m doing a pre-college program now to get in the swing of things.”

“Ah. Rad.”

“Mmhmm,” Elsa nodded while sipping her beer.

“My sister’s going there too!”

“Really?”

“Yeah—her name’s Honeymaren. She’s cool. I bet she’d love to know somebody before starting, if you’re—if you’re cool with that, I can hook you up.”

Elsa blushed. “Hook me up?”

“Yeah, you know—put you in contact, whatever—so you’ve got a friend before you start.”

She bit her lip. “Oh, sure.”

Then he laughed. “Ohhh you thought I meant hook you up hook you up. Nah. Didn’t mean it like that. And anyway, I don’t know what the whole dude sitch is there, but I’m sure you two could find that whole shebang out together.”

“Yeah,” she swallowed. “Maybe.” And then let out a long breath.

“Let’s play a game, let’s play a game!” Olaf chanted.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Anna squealed. She loved games. “Okay! Which game?”

“Ten Fingers!” Bebe yelled a little too loudly. She was at least two shots in. “You put out ten fingers and then someone says, like, never have I ever… given head or whatever and if you’ve done it you’ve gotta drink so everyone knows you’ve done it!”

“I’ll go first,” Hans smirked, snaking his arm around Anna once again. “Never have I ever flown coach.”

Elsa, Anna, and Kristoff were visibly the only ones who didn’t drink.

Kristoff next. He narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brow, and then spoke, “Never have I ever flown. In a plane. Ever.”

Drinks all around, and Sven immediately had a response ready, “Never have I ever done drugs, other than weed.”

Hans was the only one who drank anything.

“Interesting,” Sven said.

“Never have I ever been drunk!” Olaf exclaims, his go-to answer for this kind of game.

Groaning in unison, they all polished off a bit more of their beers.

“Never have I ever watched porn,” Bebe said with resolve. “I want some real dirt.”

Anna, Elsa, and Ashley and the boys minus Olaf took proud sips of their beers.

“WHAT?! You’re telling me girls watch porn? The hell?” Ryder can’t shake his confusion.

“Um, duh,” Anna rolled her eyes. “We’re not another species.”

“Never have I ever…” Ashley gulped, unsure where to take this. “Blacked out.”

Anna’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.” Anna drank her beer, frowning when she realized it was empty. “Aww. All gone.”

“I’ll get some more,” Hans murmured. “This game’s lame anyway.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “You’re only saying that because you’re losing or … winning—which is it?”

“Winning,” Hans said as he climbed out of the hot tub and turned away.

“I can help you carry stuff!” Olaf ran after him.

“Okay. My turn,” Ryder bit his lip. “Um. Never have I ever been in a band.”

“You suck,” Kristoff whined.

“Yeah, Ryder. Go to hell.” Sven flipped him off.

Elsa, next, rubbing her hands together nervously, eternally unsure. “Never have I ever…eaten a hamburger?”

“Shit, really?” Sven was more than taken aback.

Elsa nodded, prompting everyone to drink even more. Anna grabbed Elsa’s beer and took a couple gulps from it.

Aaaand okay. Now—officially—all of the alcohol hit Anna. The world kind of … actually very noticeably so started spinning.

“Laaaaame,” she said, her words starting to slur a little bit. “We’ve gotta kick it uppa nosh, hmm? Never… have I ever… had sex in a forest.”

Nobody drank.

“Hmmm… nobody? Nah one body? Nah any one of you? Okay.”

Kristoff scooted closer to Anna and puffed out his chest. “Never have I ever had sex on the beach.”

Anna took Kristoff’s beer this time and stared deeply into his eyes while she drank sip after sip. Again, nobody else drank.

Then Sven. “Never had I ever had sex in the car.”

Anna deliberately sipped on the beer again.

“Never have I ever had sex in a hot tub!”

Anna laughed maniacally and took several long gulps of the beer. “Nah this one though! I… swear!”

“Good,” Bebe replied, scrunching up her nose. “Well, um. Never have I ever had sex.”

Anna took an uninspired sip. Not dramatic when they knew all the other places she and Hans had explored… but when she looked around and noticed not a single soul except… was that Elsa drinking?

No way. Elsa?! She’d have to debrief this later, like. Majorly.

But, seriously? Nobody else? Like... shit.

Why had they taken it so far with all those random spots, then? Almost like... they were baiting her or something.

And besides… more than anything, it surprised her. Anna thought most everyone had done it. At least, she hadn’t considered herself particularly early, really. But if Ashley hadn’t done it, despite Hans making it seem like they’d hooked up before, then Anna was beyond confused. Crisis mode. Because if they hadn’t and in general if Ashley-the-17-year-old hadn’t… then oh freaking snap maybe she was early. Not that she regretted it, but. It still felt weird to be one of the only ones. She didn’t want to feel like a slut or something. Shit.

Yeah. Okay—she was a slut. Anna Larsen, the slut. Shitshitshitshit.

Except, there was that one silver lining.

Elsa drank, too.

No wonder she gave such good advice about doing it for the first time.

Ashley shrugged. “Never have I ever kissed a girl.”

But Anna could think of nothing but the word slut on repeat so she couldn’t begin to comprehend who drank to that one.

Slut. Slutslutslut. Slut. Anna’s a slut. Anna Larsen’s a slut. Slutslutslut.

But… at least she was winning the game? Right?

Yeah. When Anna looked down at her hands, she realized she was crazy close to officially sealing the deal of her win.

Or did winning this game make her more of a slut?

This was hopeless. Might as well embrace it. She had no regrets.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Anna proudly showed off her right hand. “I only have wwwww-one finger left!” And then, all of a sudden, she remembered the most important, juicy detail of the night. So Anna backtracked, leaning over to her sister. “Wait. El…sa. You had sex? Why di’it you tell me?” She had tried to whisper but in her drunken state had abysmal volume control.

“You saw me drink?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You didn’t… did you see me drink for any other ones?”

“Mmm, couple. But I dun care about those. Lass I saw for drink wash the sexy time one and I wanna know the story! Story time, story time!”

“I don’t want to tell the story, Anna. And it’s … it’s not exactly what you think. It’s different, but… I’m not ready to talk to you about this, okay? I... I wouldn’t have answered it if I were sober.”

“You sure soun sober, sisser.” Anna took her index finger and jammed it into Elsa’s chest bone. Her cerulean eyes looked glossy and lost. And then she jutted out her bottom lip. “Come on, tell me!”

“Another day, okay?”

She huffed and blew a piece of wet red hair out from her face. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, grumbling, “Beee that way. Another day, wha-evah.”

Elsa bit her lip. “Hey, you know what?”

“Whuh?”

“I think I need to eat my words about Hans.”

“Yeah?!” Anna’s eyes lit up and she squealed. Not a slut, not a slut.

“Yeah. He’s… he seems like a good guy. He put in a lot of effort for you today. I can’t believe he talked to mom and dad, I mean—that’s a huge effort in and of itself.”

Anna giggled and nodded. “Huuuge.”

“So, anyway, he’s—"

“I got more drinks!” Hans called from the sliding glass door. Olaf bounded in after him. “Would’ve been back sooner had Olaf not talked my ear off about everything he loves about Anna.”

Olaf shrugged. “Wanted to make sure you know how special she is.” And then he hopped back into the hot tub.

“Awww,” Anna cooed, giving Hans a sloppy kiss on the lips as he handed her the drink. “Thanks babe.”

“No prob.” His eyes became half lidded and he didn’t let go of her face, bringing her in for another kiss, even sloppier this time, definitely with tongue. One hand trailed down her body and onto her thigh—her upper thigh, and he squeezed her skin. Anna shivered and kissed him deeper.

Fuck it. Slut or not a slut she was happiest here, like this. With Hans.

“Um. Dudes? Game’s not over.” Ryder tried to wave his hand in their peripheral vision, but all four eyes were decidedly closed.

“Earth to Anna? Earth to Hans?” Sven had started full-blown yelling, and at the same time Kristoff had retreated to his shell, his eyes also closed for some reason.

Anna giggled. “Hah—earth. Thassfunny, Ashley.”

“Um. It’s Sven. I’m Sven.”

“Oh-kay, yeahhh. Sure, you are, Ashley. Thassa good one too. I didin know you were so fuuunny!” Hans’s hand squeezed her thigh again. “Should we finish the game?”

“I think, maybe…” Elsa looked around, trying to garner support from her sister’s friends. “We can just say you won?”

Anna giggled and pumped a fist into the air. “Yeah! Cool! Go me!”

“I’m gonna get you some water.”

“Thanks, sisser,” Anna said, yawning. “Soo… whadda we do now? Ooh! I know! Go… I wanna go… swimming!”

Before anybody could stop her, Anna raced out of the hot tub and then to the beach.

Kristoff chased after her.

“Anna, Anna, wait wait wait wait!”

She spun around so quickly that her body couldn’t take it and she fell dramatically onto the sand with a huge plop. “Oof,” she exhaled before cracking up.

He dashed to her side, sliding with ease on the sand, somehow, and making sure she was okay.

Then, he reached out one hand and touched her protectively on her shoulder. She shivered at the touch, smiling when she noted how soft and kind his brown eyes were in the moonlight.

“I wanna go…schwimming.”

“In the ocean?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I want you to be safe.”

“You…wan me to be safe?”

“Yeah, I—I do.”

Anna thought back to what Hans had said earlier. About Kristoff being pathetic and all that—it wasn’t true. Anna knew it couldn’t be true, but… she wanted to tread those waters maybe a little more than she wanted to wade out into the actual ocean. “Because you looooove me?” Okay, there it was. Out.

A palpable silence overcame them both.

And then Anna leaned back so her head rested on his chest. Kristoff hesitated initially, but then steadily draped his arm around her shoulders.

Still silent.

In a flash, something happened, a penny dropped maybe, and Kristoff tensed up completely.

Okay, so ... either Hans was right, or ... he was completely, utterly wrong and Anna just made a complete fool of herself. Great. Excellent. Wonder-freaking-ful!

Anna couldn’t let this silence go on for any longer. She whispered, “Like a sisser.”

And then he sighed, “Yeah.”

Ha! See, Hans? Her not-boyfriend was so frigging wrong. Kristoff loved her like a sister. Not... whatever.

But then why did Anna suddenly feel so disappointed?

“You my bessfrien,” she sighed into his chest. “Thank you fo keeping me safe.”

He didn’t say anything else, just held onto her tighter.

Until.

“Anna!”

Hans’s voice.

“Anna! You didn’t actually go swimming did, you?”

Anna laughed and tried to stand back up but had much difficulty, swaying so heavily that Kristoff came to her aid. “No!”

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“To bed? Oooh.” She tried to strut toward him, but her stumbling created a real fall-risk. Hans rushed to help her, shooing Kristoff away in the process.

Within seconds Hans’s mouth was on hers again, like in the hot tub, to the same graphic degree. All Anna could think was yes. She was so happy. He planned the most perfect birthday she’d ever had in her life and now she was here kissing him. Yes—happy. Perfect. Best birthday she could ever wish for.

All thanks to Hans.

Kristoff visibly grimaced and tried to push past the couple. He grumpily uttered, “Goodnight,” but this word made Anna perk back up.

“Kris?” How had she forgotten he was here? Dumb shit, Anna. Drunk or not. Kristoff continued to trudge away from the couple, but a very determined Anna clumsily sprinted to catch him. “Sorry bout dat. Um—thank oo for tonight. I… is been a guh-reat birthday.”

He stopped the second she caught up to him and let out a sigh. “You’re welcome, Anna.” His eyes darted to Hans quickly. “Are you… I know you’re—are you good to, um, be with him tonight? I meant what I said earlier—I want you to be safe. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Anna nodded and said, “Thanks, bessfren. I’m great—safe! Happy and in loooove.” She smiled blissfully and impulsively got up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his right cheek. “Goodnight, Kris!”

His eyes grew to the size of saucers and his cheeks flushed red.

“Good…good morning! I mean night. It’s night. Um—goodnight. Goodnight, Anna.”

But by the time he finished speaking, Anna was already back with Hans, kissing him fervently, and paying Kristoff no mind.

#frozen #kristanna #hansanna #fanfic #fanfiction #myfics

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h2omyeon · 4 years

Text

You Were Beautiful (KJM x reader)

Summary: You had been in love with your classmate Kim Junmyeon for the last year and a half. You finally find the guts to tell him the truth about how you feel, but at the wrong time. (PS: Chanyeol makes a cameo in this story and Junmyeon is an Art History major!)

Pairing: Junmyeon x Female Reader

Tags: College Student Junmyeon, Art Hoe Junmyeon, bittersweet stuff

Warnings: Mentions of suicide towards the end of the story (not in this chapter)

Word Count (in total): 8.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my first ever story I wrote and published on here. Feel free to leave comments and I will try to publish each chapter weekly! This story is based off of a combination of dreams that I had which included people who weren’t Junmyeon and Junmyeon himself during the beginning of this whole COVID pandemic (AKA: when things began to fall apart). Like the world that I was living in at that time, this story/dream is just as (I hope to believe) chaotic. I also apologize if there are a ton of plot holes in the story because it was based on a dream and I could not think of any filler parts. Enjoy!- PS

PPS: This is the second to last part of the story and yes, I have written the entire thing already! Because of some personal stuff that I have related to work, I will not be publishing the last chapter until August 16th. I hope you all have enjoyed the work up to this point!

Read the previous parts here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chapter 3: Natural Delivery

Your alarm rang; it was D-day. You couldn’t believe you kissed him, the man of your dreams. You smiled even thinking about, but then a rush of sadness hit you because he was going to leave you all from today. It was 6:30 in the morning when you woke up and you could hear Junmyeon and his family starting to pack the stuff in the car and talk to one another in Korean.

Before leaving for the airport at 7 that morning, your sisters had groggily said goodbye to Junmyeon and he had given them $40 each to spend. He thanked your mother for being so kind and helpful; you and your father were in the car watching him say goodbye. You had a letter in your hand you wrote to Junmyeon before last night, explaining everything you had felt for him and gave him some pictures you two had taken at various photo booths throughout the city.

The ride was occasionally silent, except for when your father and the older Kim’s would engage in conversations about politics and asked Junmyeon about his flight details. Mr Kim played some music; “Me Gustas Tu” by GFriend blasted through the car speakers and you all (except your father, who didn’t know the song to begin with) began to sing along while you and Junmyeon did the chorus dance hand movements. It was ironic that on the day the person you liked was leaving, this was the song playing.

“Did you know our nephew was an SM trainee?” Mrs Kim asked you and your father. You both shook your heads. That explained why he was so good at dancing.

“Aunty, it was for a month,” he replied in Korean, then said: “Yeah, all I did was not get sleep and train all day for something I didn’t know if I actually wanted to do.”

You all chuckled then went silent, while watching the traffic. You sang along to the rest of the song alone, while Junmyeon looked out the window and then looked at you while you were singing.

“Y/N, you sing so good!” Mr Kim stated.

“No, I just like this song a lot, Mr Kim,” you gushed. Junmyeon smiled at you; you smiled back. Junmyeon was definitely a better singer and knowing that he was an SM trainee confirmed the reason why he was so good.

“Your pronunciation isn’t that bad, Y/N. You kinda sounded like Yuju when you sang at that moment,” Junmyeon said. You didn’t know the members' names, but you were honored.

After a few more songs and more stories from the Kims and your father, you had finally reached JFK airport. You helped Mrs Kim and your father take out the bigger luggages onto the trolley cart; Mr Kim hugged his nephew for one last time and told him he loved him and how much he was going to miss him. You watched Mr Kim sadly walk into his car and think briefly, knowing his nephew will have to go through the difficult training he went through himself, before entering the airport. While at the airport, you all decided to grab some breakfast.

Your father and Junmyeon fought on who would pay for breakfast; Junmyeon gave in and your father had paid for the quick breakfasts you all ate from the Dunkin stand.

“I’ll miss Dunkin Donuts,” he admitted as you all walked to the baggage check in stand.

“There aren’t any in Korea?” Your father asked.

“No,” Mrs. Kim and Junmyeon replied at the same time.

“There are Starbucks,” he disclosed. “They’re way better in Korea though.” You rolled your eyes, remembering the debate you two once had over this topic.

Once you reached the baggage check in, you all were no longer allowed to go with him past that. Junmyeon checked in his big bags and was given his boarding pass; the flight was at 10:30 and it was 8:00. Before walking into security, Junmyeon said his goodbyes to Mrs. Kim in Korean, thanking her for all she had done these three years. Then, he went to you.

“I will miss you a lot, probably the most out of everyone here. I said all my thank yous and I love yous last night, but I really love you and always have, I really do. Thank you for everything and I really hope to see you again. Think of me,” he said with a smile. You hugged him tightly; he was so comforting and from today, you would no longer feel that warmth. You were going to miss him deeply. Tears formed in his eyes and you all were about to cry.

“Stay safe, serve well and don’t forget to call and text us when you get there, Junmyeon.” Mrs Kim said. He walked to your father while you sipped your iced coffee and silently cried.

They both looked at one another in silence. You knew your father loved Junmyeon like his own son; they had an immediate bond. “Hey, buddy, I know we didn’t talk a lot, but I saw you make my daughter the happiest she had been in a long time. I haven't seen her smile and laugh with anyone for a while and I’m happy it was with you,” your father said. “Good luck with your service and if you ever need any help, you know where to call,” he addressed with a smile. He gave Junmyeon a big hug and they embraced briefly.

“Thank you for accepting me into your home whenever I needed help. I felt protected and welcomed by you all. And I will definitely call whenever I need your help,” Junmyeon replied to your father.

“That’s what fathers do, right?” he replied with a fatherly chuckle. You all laughed. They hugged again and he walked up to you.

“Stay safe, okay?” you said, holding his hand while thinking about last night. He assured you that he would stay safe and that he would call you as soon as he got to Korea. Both of your smiles disappeared from your faces when you let his hand go. You all looked at one another in silence.

“Hey, let’s take a picture,” you suggested. The rest of the clan agreed; you asked a young French woman to take the pictures on your dad’s cell phone. After a few pictures, Junmyeon hugged you all for one last time and walked towards security. You put his letter in your pocket and walked out of the airport alongside your father and Mrs Kim once he turned into a tiny figure in the entrance towards security.

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The ride home was overcast with sadness and silence; you cried most of the way home. You felt like you were Elio Perlman in Call Me By Your Name after Oliver had left; your father held your hand the whole way home while he looked out the window in silence. Mrs Kim tried to console you from her passenger seat as best as she could.

“That boy was like glue,” Mrs Kim said. “He brought two families together without realizing it. Thank you to the both of you and your other family members for making our nephew Junmyeon feel welcome, I really mean it. He talked about you all as passionately as he did about those art pieces he studied in school,” she continued.

“He was a special kid who made my daughter the happiest-” your father admitted. You had fallen asleep by then, while the elders continued to have a conversation about Junmyeon and based on Mr. Kim’s experiences, how his life will change after the military.

You were asleep for 30 minutes when you were awakened by a buzz coming from your pocket. It was a text message that had come from Junmyeon, but just as you were about to read it, your phone battery had run out.

“Junmyeon said he is on the plane and that he will miss us all.” Mrs Kim said; she was talking about the text she had received. You accepted that he would be gone for a long time and that you needed to live your life the same way you would if Junmyeon were there.

To pass time before you went home to live your life post-Junmyeon, you began to sing some songs in your head and one of the songs that popped up was “For Life” by EXO. You thought about the lines: “Never gonna let you go, giving you my heart and soul.” You initially heard the song in 2016, during a New Year’s Eve party your cousin Tiffany had invited you to and imagined some random celebrity as the love of your life you would pour your heart and soul for. Little did you think at that time you would ever find yourself giving up your heart and soul for someone in real life until you met him.

Another hour of traffic ensued and you fell asleep again, this time your father fell asleep as well. You could faintly hear Mrs Kim was talking to her sister in law (Junmyeon’s mother), wishing her a happy birthday, with Mr. Kim saying happy birthday as well before falling back asleep again.

By the time you woke up, Mr. Kim reached the neighborhood parking lot and after scurrying around the lot to find a spot, he parked his car next to your father’s. Just as you were all about to leave, your father’s cellphone began to ring; it was Angela. She never called your father unless it was an extreme emergency. Angela worked at the airport as a cashier at a duty free perfume shop on the weekends.

“Hello? Angela, what’s wrong?” Your father asked.

“Mr. Y/L/N, I tried calling Y/N’s phone, but she isn’t picking up and neither is Junmyeon.” you heard Angela explain through the phone.

Did he miss the flight? You thought. Your brain spiraled into a frenzy and thought of every possible situation. He spoke English very well, so he was able to understand the announcements and by now he should have flown out of New York; it was 11:00 AM and his flight left at 10:30, a half hour before. You all had left the airport at 8:30. You couldn’t hear the rest, but based on your father’s face, it was not good news.

“What happened?” Mr Kim asked your father. “Is everything okay? That Angela girl is crazy, but she would never call unless something bad really happens.”

“There’s been an accident.”

“An accident?” you asked.

Your father took a deep breath. “Angela called me to say that a plane crashed outside of JFK fifteen minutes after it went off the runway. The flight left earlier than it should have and everything was deemed as fine, but somewhere along the way, the plane’s engine started to act up and despite doing an emergency landing, the plane crashed and caught fire.” he explained

“It landed in some construction site and based on the severity of the damage and what she heard through word of mouth, it seems like no one survived the crash. She doesn’t know what flight it was yet, but she will call me and let me know.”

“Oh my god!” Mrs Kim exclaimed. “Let me call Junmyeon. Oh, I hope he is okay!” She tried calling him multiple times; it went to voicemail each time.

There was no report of bad weather today, you thought. But it did rain last night, so it might have been partially because of the weather. You felt like you were living a fever dream; you were on cloud nine twelve hours ago and now you felt the end of the world nearby.

“Honey, he already left. You can’t call him.” Mr Kim explained to his wife in Korean. Mrs Kim’s face turned pale in worry that her beloved nephew was dead the moment he was supposed to leave; Mr Kim was consoling her on the quick walk home. They both began to call everyone they knew, including your mother. You and your father were both too stunned to say anything.

Your mother and sisters had reached the Kim residence after hearing the news from Mrs Kim, and your father went to go use the bathroom. Your mother, and the Kims talked to one another frantically.

“What happened?” your youngest sister Molly had asked, sitting on the same bench where you and Junmyeon had confessed your love for one another less than 24 hours before.

“A plane crashed and we don’t know if it might have been Junmyeon’s flight,” you explained.

“Bro,” Natasha exclaimed. “You really believe Angela?”

“Angela may be strange at times, but she is not a liar,” you snapped. “This is serious, Natasha!”

They were just as stunned and by then your father had come back from the bathroom. You all prayed in silence that Junmyeon was okay and it wasn’t his flight that had gone through that tragedy.

A few moments later, the phone rang as soon as your father reached the house and you all sat on the porch in worry. It was Angela. You picked up the phone immediately, while everyone watched you in worry.

“Hello?” you uttered. She indicated that based on the information provided to her fellow employees and supervisors, the plane that had exploded was going to an Asian country, although which country and airline it was, she did not know yet. She also said that there were survivors, but did not know how many there were. After a minute’s silence, she got back on the phone and told you the flight number of the plane that had crashed.

“There is good news and bad news: There are about twenty survivors out of the 178 people on the airplane. They have, unfortunately, not found any more survivors and yes they are still looking. They are being taken to nearby hospitals as we speak and for now, all other flights have been delayed.”

Angela took a deep breath before she shared the news of the flight. She was a journalism major, so it was natural for her to deliver news, good or bad; despite her natural strangeness, she was able to successfully deliver bad news without crying and good news with a panned face. However, her voice changed, which meant it was definitely serious.

“It was Junmyeon’s flight to Seoul that crashed onto the construction site.”

Part 5 (and final part)

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crestomanci · 3 years

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Synopsis

“The Lost Princess” follows the story of Nick Sullivan, a girl that finds out, on her sixteenth birthday, that she is the daughter of a queen and is summoned to ascend to the throne as the princess of Combellmont island. She initiates, then, a difficult and dangerous journey that could put not only her life at risk as everyone’s she loves.

Chapter 1

What do I know about my mom? What a tough question. Besides all the biological processes I’ve learned in school, like genetics and stuff, I only know some physical characteristics: she was tall, the prettiest lady my father has ever known, and she smelled like mint. And that’s all I know because whenever I talked about her, my father always was already drunk and I needed to help him out and take him from his armchair to his bed.

I’ve never tried to pressure him in order to get information, though, since he always looked so ashamed of himself the next morning and I didn’t want to make him feel sad… Or make me sad. After all, the feelings I’ve grown towards my mom were migrating between sadness and anger. How could someone leave their child with some guy she’d only met once and then never tries to keep in touch? Okay, I was lucky enough that my dad was a cool guy and took me in, but this doesn’t make her less guilty at all.

I wonder if she ever wanted to know where her daughter could be for these past 15 years. If she has ever asked herself if I was okay, if I went to school, if my dad treated me nicely… Nothing? Then, after a while, I started to believe that she never loved me. That I was a mistake she made during a U2 concert after tons of beer and that I didn’t matter to her.

I got up from my bed and decided not to think about her. The less I knew, the less it would hurt, and today I was supposed to be happy, right? Because it was my sixteenth birthday. “Happy Birthday, Nick”, I said to myself. My dad was surely still asleep and I would only see him at night.

“Oh, crap!” twenty minutes late meant that I was late to school and this would be my third time this month. I ran as fast as I could and was able to catch the bus. Luckly, the driver was George and he always stopped for me, even when I was running late.

“Andy again, Nick?” he asked.

I nodded, not wanting to talk about it. Third delay of the month… This would make me stay in school after class and then I would be late for work at Tiffany&Thommy, which would not please Miss Picket. Will “I’m so so sorry, but today is my birthday and everything is nuts” work as an excuse? No. Everyone in town knew me and my dad, so it was known that whenever I was late it was because of him.

George offered me a little red box with a white bow wrapping it around and a tiny card. “Hey, you didn’t think I'd forget, did you?”

“George, you shouldn’t have! Thanks” I thanked and my cheeks turned red while I was getting the present, in a mist of hurry and happiness (after all, I was already late and he had taken his time to hand in the present despite knowing everyone was waiting to carry on the trip!).

“That’s nothing, Nick. Tomorrow, tell me if you liked it. Have a great day and a happy birthday!”

I thanked again while I started to look for a seat. The real bus to Abeley High School was deactivated because no one used it. Most of the students didn’t need to use public transportation since they had their own cars or chauffeurs, and so every single day I had to take the only bus that drove all the way to my school, when, in reality, it dropped me off two blocks away. After spending a whole life in Abeley, I was already used to it, but I wished - as if I was about to blow my birthday cake candles - this year I’d get a car. Or that at least my dad would accept that I should start to study at the school he now works at.

I got up when we were getting closer to the stop and hurried up while going down the stairs, and ran to school.

Yeah, I was definitely late. And obviously I had to face Mr. William, after going to the principal’s office. I smiled bluntly, and then tried to sneak into his class.

“Oh, Nicolle! I can’t believe someone hasn’t given you a clock yet. I mean, we have been starting the classes at the same time since 1864, and yet…”

I heard my entire class smothering a laughter as I gave Mr. William the piece of paper that allowed me to take his class, which was prior given to me by the principal, and, then, I went to my desk.

Today’s history class was about smaller islands and countries all over the world. Internally, I kept telling myself that there was no use to learning all of that, once we lived in a small city closer to New York, so that subject should have been self-explanatory to us and, even though Abeley should be a school for rich people, the greatest part of us, including me, would never travel abroad. Like ever. Let alone stepping on a small island somewhere that was probably built to make money from tourists. Whatever. Mr. William had already had his moment of glory today and I didn’t need a lecture anyways, so I decided to loosen my hair and put on my earphones again, as I kept pretending that I was paying attention.

Everyone’s goal in Abeley was to get into an Ivy League and, for the unlucky ones like me, the ultimate goal was to get a scholarship or a way out of this town. It felt weird not knowing what to do or what I’d like to become, but when people ask me about what I would like to be when I grow up, I used to lie and say I’d like to become a lawyer. Knowing my dad’s behavior, it would make total sense and that was enough to get me out of that subject during conversations, after being told that I should “hang in there” in order to become what I used to say.

The truth was that it would be enough if I turned eighteen and convinced my father that we should leave this town or state. To build a new life in which we weren’t pity case or a subject to gossip spreaders.

Tiffany&Thommy was a library and bookstore two blocks away from my school. It used to be owned by two brothers who have lived here since the city was founded, and I was a part-timer there. After Mr. Thommy Picket’s death, his sister needed help and I offered myself, as I needed money because my dad’s salary as a Spanish teacher was not something we could brag about.

I apologized for being late to Miss Picket and she (with her always pleasing humor) told me to find my computer and sit down before her nephew could find the cash register and steal everything they’ve made so far, like he did last month,

“Good evening, Nick. Are you early again?” I hear Rupert saying with his annoying British accent. He was sitting on my chair, staring at me with his weird brown eyes and dark hair.

“Yes, Rupert. And thank you for keeping my seat warm. Now you can go.” The best solution with him was to use irony and sarcasm. After all, wanting or not, he was the future owner of that store and his aunt wasn’t looking that good anyway.

“I don’t know why my aunt keeps you here. Or why did she hire you in the first place.”

“Your aunt knows me since I was born, we live in the same neighborhood and she trusts me.” I was as rough as possible and then started to browse through the record book on the decrepit computer.

He kept there, looking at what I was doing, as he was laying on the counter. I waited until he left for five minutes, but I was never known for my patience.

“So? Do you want a book or something?” I asked, trying to smile.

“Not really.” he replied and kept staring at me. Then, he nodded and left.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, while I watched him leave.

On my way home, I decided to open the present given by George when I was already on the bus. It was a little pendant shaped like a heart. Those in which you can put a picture on both sides. I loved it. I’m going to choose a picture of me and my dad, I thought as I got off the bus.

The weather was terrible as always and the fog made me put on my hood. When I was close to my building, I saw a man wearing a suit leaving and getting in a luxury black car that was parked on the other side of the street. I had no idea someone in town had something to do with the White House, I thought, trying not to laugh as I passed by the lobby.

The elevator was, once again, being fixed and it would take at least forty-eight hours return, so I went up the stairs hearing some of my neighbors complaining about the elevator like that would fix it faster.

After finding my keys, I saw my dad sitting on his armchair that, this time, was facing the door. He looked more tired and sadder than usual and was holding a letter.

“Dad?” I called, leaving my backpack in the hall and getting closer to him.

“Oh, Nick, you’re here” he answered and I could see that his eyes looked swollen and red. He has cried. I sighed and looked at the table, but I didn’t see any beer bottles there.

“What happened?”

“I need to talk to you. And I ordered pizza, so you don’t need to cook today. Change your clothes and take a bath, I know you must be tired.”

“That’s okay, dad. I’m fine” I claimed, feeling a little bit afraid.

He didn’t say anything else, just stood up and went to his room. I kept staring at him while he closed the door.

Ordering pizza on my birthday was almost a habit, but the conversation part… I started to bite my upper lip and picked up my backpack on the floor, but refused to take a bath. I felt nervous and anxious and waited to hear if his bedroom door would open so that I could leave mine.

When I left, he was in the living room. He had opened and served himself with a pizza slice and soda. He looked a little better as he smiled, so I sat down.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” It was all he said, giving me a sad smile. We started to eat after that.

After I finished, I felt like something bad was about to happen and I realized he was looking at me, God knows for how long, and that the letter he was previously holding was still there, in his hand. I stopped and looked at him, wanting to know for how long he would stare without saying anything.

A couple minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity to me. Then, he finally started:

“Nick, did I talk about your mom yesterday?”

I took a deep breath and felt a little bit relieved to realize that it wasn’t something that important after all. I was used to that kind of conversation, even though it made me sad, since he usually stood up for her in the end.

“Yes, dad, but just the usual, you know, blond, tall, smelled like mint” I remembered while I was taking my dish and got up.

“Nicolle, sit down, please” he stared at me with his blue eyes and it looked like it was an order.

I had no idea what was going on, but if it was serious enough for my dad to boss me around…

“Okay.” I agreed, sitting down again.

He looked like he was trying to control himself so that he could continue his speech.

“Nick, you know your mom handed you in when you were only six months, right?” he asked and I nodded, leaning on the couch. “Child, what I have to say is serious and I need you to handle it until the very end.”

He paused. The pizza I ate started to move around in my stomach, bothering me.

“Your mom didn’t leave you here because she wanted to, but because she needed to keep you away from the place she lived in. She had to leave you here, with me, so that I could take care of you and make you a good person. When I met her, we spent the whole week together. She told me about her world and I realized it wasn’t easy. Our story wasn’t just a concert and a single night, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. Actually, I’m sorry about everything I have to tell you today… You can’t imagine how much it hurts to tell everything like this. But the point is: she loved you, as much as I do love you. And last week, I discovered that unfortunately your mom has passed away.” He told me with every strength he had, even though he let some tears roll down his cheeks, which he cleaned fast. Then, he took a box from the table, one I haven’t seen before, opened it and showed me everything that was inside.

“I thought that it wasn't a good idea to tell you, dear. You always seemed hurt about your mom, but, then, today I received a message and now I have no other choice but to tell you the truth. The man that came here earlier wanted to wait for you, but I begged him to let me speak with you first. I needed to tell you the whole story. You’ve probably already studied about Europe and must know that there are a lot of small countries there. Your mom lived in one of those countries. Actually, your mom ruled one of them. When I met her, she had just received a convocation to claim the throne of Combellmont and, like any 18-year-old girl, she wanted… An adventure before her real life began. Like in the romances she used to read.

“We met when I went to live in New York. She came on a trip, running away from her hotel, and we met in the middle of Central Park. It was love at first sight and we had the best week in the world. Nine days, to be exact, but she always needed to go back and sleep at the hotel, so I left her on the street corner so that the guard that escorted her would be aware of me. Until the last day, when her sister saw and denounced us. She was grounded after that and I got beaten up by her guards. And well, I thought I’d never see her again, so needless to say it was a surprise when she came back, fifteen months later, knocking on my old Brooklyn apartment with you in her arms. She asked me to take care of you, keeping you safe and sound, away from her world. She asked me to give you a normal life until the day she would come back and explain everything. That she would do it once you turned 18… I wished she had time to do that…

“Ever since, I could only watch you grow and kept collecting everything that I saw about her. Her marriage with an ambassador that was twice her age, her coronation as queen, the birth to her first child for the media, the death of her husband and, most recently, her own death, not long after giving birth to her second child. Oh, Nick, I would have loved to tell you all of this at the right time, but it so happens that you need to know it now. This afternoon, your mom’s kingdom counselor came in and brought this letter to you. You see: with her death, it would be pleasing if her oldest royal child ascended to the throne, but she’s only a kid! And as you are, in fact, the oldest of them all… They demand you there for some kind of training. And, being crystal clear: you are obligated to do this, or they will appeal to judicial measures to make you do it anyway. They can even take you by force, Nick.” After hearing all of that, I ran to the bathroom. My head was spinning, my face was wet with sweat and tears, and I wanted to throw up every slice of pizza I ate. My dad didn’t even dare to chase me, he just let me go.

I was overwhelmed, to say the least. My head was exploding with the wave of information I’ve received and I’ve never been so shocked in my entire life. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed there, hiding, puking, crying. I was hugging my knees against my chest, just hearing my heartbeats. How come my life turned upside down in less than one hour? My mom, a queen. Country, children, baby, my dad, kingdom… Those words were spinning in my head and making me dizzy. How come my father hid everything from me? How come my mom found it better that way? And, mainly, what was I supposed to do now? I had no clue how someone could actually obligate me to do something, after all, besides taking care of my father and the house, I’ve never had to lead, or been a leader.

https://www.inkitt.com/stories/romance/748079?utm_source=shared_web

https://www.wattpad.com/story/274223573-the-lost-princess

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babybirdgyeom · 5 years

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you, me and bertha (3) | park jinyoung

⇴ neighbor!au, farmer!au, jinyoung x reader.

⇴ summary: moving from the big city to your uncle’s farm in the small village you used to visit as a child was a big and scary step. luckily, you found many reasons to stay. reasons like your cousin bambam, your best friend jaebum or park jinyoung, your neighbor who maybe was more than just a guy you like to nag around with.

⇴ this chapter: it’s your birthday, jinyoung walks you home late at night and you have a quite interesting conversation with jaebum and bambam.

⇴ word count: this part: 5.5k full story: ~30k

⇴ all the other parts can be found in my masterlist, linked in my bio! ♥

Waking up, you immediately had a smile on your face - it’s not like anyone besides Bambam and Minwoo, maybe also Jaebum, would know it’s your birthday today but you still loved your special day. How could you not?

The first thing you did that morning was looking at your phone, happy to see that your friends from home - or more like what used to be home to you - all thought of you and send you very nice birthday greetings full of love. In no time you got up and dressed to go over to the main house.

“So, what do you want to do today?”, Bambam asked you as you, for a change, had breakfast with him and your uncle. They were really cute, they made you some scrambled eggs and cut a lot of vegetables from the Park’s farm, Bambam even managed to go to the heart of the city to buy some buns for all of you.

Stretching yourself while yawning, you thought about Bam’s question. “I actually don’t know, didn’t plan anything yet.”, you said shrugging before eating a piece of pepper, “Any ideas?”

“Why don’t you invite your friends over, (y/n)?”, your uncle suggested but you’d rather not. The problem with inviting people over is you can’t leave early since they are literally at your own place.

“No way, I don’t even think most people know about my birthday. I’ll stay lowkey about it.”, you said, just wanting to have a nice night on the couch after you took a long bath - an ideal night for you, “I’ll get comfortable at home and watch something, do you wanna join and have a movie night?”, you asked your two family members but they didn’t seem to show much support to your idea.

Uncle Minwoo immediately interrupted you, “I’m not letting you stay at home with your old uncle and cousin on your birthday.”

“I’d love that though. We hadn’t had a movie night in a long time.”, you pouted towards your uncle despite knowing you had no chance against him.

“Bambam, take her to the pub, alright?”, he looked at his son who was currently not listening to the ongoing conversation and instead was texting someone.

“Mhh.”, he agreed with his father before looking up from his phone, “I’ll take you to the pub later, (y/n). No discussion.”, he said.

So a few hours later you found yourself in your small, but very lovely looking, bathroom - putting on a real full face make-up for the first time since you arrived. Bam said to make sure that you looked nice since a lot of other people would be there, including the girl he ‘sometimes takes out’, as he likes to call it. Even though you were not really in the mood and would have really preferred a relaxed movie night with your family you thought that looking good and getting ready every now and then wouldn’t hurt - and maybe, just maybe, Jinyoung would be there too.

Bam picked you up from your little house at around eight in the evening, “Hey little one.”, he said lovingly, “You look good! Want to impress Park Jinyoung, right?”

By now you really regretted that you told him about your attraction for the boy next door, he wouldn’t stop mentioning it. You prayed he didn’t tell Jinyoung about it, his ego was big enough and you didn’t know if you could survive if he’d become even cockier. Jinyoung knew how good he looked and that he could probably get just any girl if he wanted so you weren’t going to give him this satisfaction.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t shut your mouth, Bambam.”, you threatened him, not wanting to talk to your cousin about him.

Arriving at the Pub you couldn’t help but smile - all of your friends were waiting inside, a whole booth waiting just for you. Jaebum was the first to welcome you, hugging you tightly, “Happy Birthday, princess.”, he almost whispered into your ear before the other people were waiting for their turn to congratulate you. Jackson and Mark were there, including Mark’s girlfriend, that you hadn’t met before. Yugyeom, of course, was there and even gifted you some sunflowers, “Those are my favorite!”, you told him excited, to which he replied that he knew. Bam introduced you to his almost-girlfriend and she seemed to be a nice girl, almost as tall as him, with cute glasses, short blue hair and a nose ring that she pulled off amazingly. Jaebum was sitting next to a girl and you made a mental note to ask him about her later on. And last but not least Park Jinyoung was standing in front of you, trying to look annoyed like always, but you saw that he was hiding his smile.

“You’re here!”, you said, genuinely excited, “I feel honored.”

He shook his head joyful, “Don’t let it get to your head. Happy birthday, farmer girl.”, for the first time ever Jinyoung hugged you, and you hated to admit that it felt quite comforting - the hug didn’t feel awkward or forced at all, he even had his one hand on your head, right in your hair.

Jaebum and Bambam, who were standing behind Jinyoung, were inspecting the hug exactly, teasing you secretly, drawing hearts with their fingers as you turned almost as red as the Park’s tomatoes.

“(Y/n), we got a present for you! Come on, sit down.”, Jackson screamed from the table and Jinyoung let you go, way too early for your liking, but you weren’t complaining. As you sat down beside Jaebum, Jinyoung sat right next to you, pretty close since you were sitting on a small bank with five people. The booth was decorated with a paper chain that spelled “Happy Birthday”, a few presents were waiting for you on the table, next to many glasses and several bottles of alcohol.

“This one is from me, Jackson and Youngjae.”, Mark said excited, handing you a present - it had the prettiest wrapping paper and looked very cute. As you opened it you couldn’t help but pout, they gifted you a frame of the four of you when you were little, you were maybe around three to four years old. “That’s literally very lovely, guys. Thank you!”

Jackson let out a laugh, “There’s a little wheel on the side that you have to move.”, he said and so you did - as you turned the little wheel more pictures of all of you showed, all of them from different years. “I love it.”, you said smiling, “It’ll get a special place in my hut, I promise.”

“Open our’s next.”, Jaebum said, a smirk on his face. “It’s from me and Bam.”, you didn’t trust them at all.

“I bet it’ll get also a very, very special place in your hut.”, Bam assured you and you just knew at that point they probably got you something very stupid.

And they did - you let out a deep breath, being completely done with them. “Thanks, I really needed that.”, you said sarcastically as you hold the box of the vibrator they gifted you in your hand.

“We know the nights get lonely here.”, Jaebum said, laughing, “Much fun with it. Just call Jinyoung if you need any help with it.”

“Yeah, no, thanks, I think I can handle that on my own.”, you said, rolling your eyes, but still chuckling a bit, “I really need a shot now.”

Jaebum immediately poured a round of shots for everyone, “To our little (y/n).”

All of your friends clinked glasses and downed the shot. Within a few hours, one shot became quite a few. Bambam and his girl were making out heavily in the corner of the pub, Jaebum, you, Youngjae, Mark and Jinyoung were currently playing a card drinking game that you not only never heard of before but was also killing you slowly.

“(Y/n), your turn.”, Jinyoung looked at you, raising his eyebrow, “Red or black?”, that was the whole point of the game. You had to say a color and if the card didn’t have the color you had to take a shot. Youngjae said it was the best game to get really drunk really fast, and boy, he was right. “Red”, you said or to be exact, mumbled, since you couldn’t talk normally anymore.

And, of course, luck wasn’t on your side - as Jinyoung turned around the card it showed black. “Jinyoung-”, you let out a whine as he laughed, “I literally cannot drink that or else I’ll throw up.”

Your head was turning and your stomach felt warm and tingly, you suddenly felt playful and giggly, which was very unusual for you. Looking at Jinyoung you felt something deep down in your tummy - hoping it was the alcohol.

He looked at you with a soft pout on his lip, “You’re no fun.”, he said before taking the shot, “I’ll take it for you since it’s your birthday.”

“Oh, what a gentleman you are.”, you nudged him.

“Just trying to get drunk.”, he said laughing before downing the shot.

You looked at Yugyeom, who was already very drunk, his eyes slowly closing. “Yugyeom!”, you said to him, not sure if you should laugh or be concerned, “Are you passing out?”

“Hmm?”, he said, trying to open his eyes but failing, “Oh no. I’m just taking a nap.”

You looked to Jinyoung beside you, questioning him what to do. “Are you going to babysit him?”

He scoffed, “That isn’t my problem to deal with.”

About two hours later you decided that it was time to go home, you actually enjoyed the evening despite you not wanting to go originally. You thanked everyone and started to grab your stuff.

“What about you?”, you asked Jinyoung who was sitting on his phone, “You’re staying?”

He looked up from his phone, “No, I’m walking you home. Give me a second.”

You decided to wait outside, needing some fresh air. You immediately felt more sober than inside of the pub, the cold air working its wonders.

Slowly, you started to walk towards your home, knowing Jinyoung would catch up in no time. And he did, of course.

“Oh!”, Jinyoung looked at you with wide eyes as he was next to you, before opening his bag, looking for something, “It’s your birthday!”

“No shit, Sherlock.”, you said unimpressed at his sudden realization, walking through the little city at night, still not used to how beautiful the stars were here.

“No, wait. I actually got you something.”, he mumbled and you thought you heard wrong for a second. At least until Jinyoung, who now managed to catch up with you, handed you a box, a rather big one.

“Are you serious?”, you asked, suddenly feeling shy. This morning you still were convinced he didn’t even know it was your birthday but now he was standing in front of you, with a present that was neatly wrapped in yellow wrapping paper.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, please.”, he said rolling his eyes as you two walked through the dark night, only a few lanterns on your way home, “Just open it. It felt wrong not to get you anything. I mean, we’re neighbors now, and also co-workers.”

You smirked up at him, playfully asking, “Maybe even friends?”

His laugh seemed to be even louder and happier when he’s drunk, “Says who? You wish!” before immediately adding, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Maybe even that. Now open it. Let’s sit down.”, your neighbor at the bank on the side of the way, a few steps away.

He took out his phone to turn on the flashlight so you could see, sitting dangerously close to you. “Why didn’t you give it to me earlier?”, you asked him curiously.

“You know, I gotta keep my cool reputation in front of them.”, he joked.

“Ah, can’t let them know that you have a crush on me?”, you blurted out, trying to flirt, knowing you would never say those things if it wasn’t for all the shots you drank earlier.

“You’re a pain in the ass.”, he chuckled, mocking you a bit, “Will you please just open it now? There are a few smaller things.”

As you ripped open the wrapping paper and opened the box your presents were in you immediately smiled, impressed by his first present, “A raincoat? I could’ve seen that coming.”

“I still can’t believe you don’t own one. Look underneath, there’s also a shirt you can use for work so you won’t ruin your good clothes.”, he said, almost proud.

The shirt was grey and oversized - and also, there was a picture printed onto it. Jinyoung let out another laugh before you could see what was on it. As he shined his flashlight on the picture you were not only extremely amused but also very amazed that he did that for you, even though he obviously was trying to be funny, you genuinely liked it - the picture was a selfie of Jinyoung, giving a thumbs up, right next to his favorite being on this earth, Bertha. Underneath the picture the sentence ‘(y/n), you can do it, maybe.’ was written in big letters.

“You’re seriously the worst.”, you laughed, wondering how in the hell he got this idea. Maybe, after all, Jinyoung was actually a quite nice man. Not that you didn’t like him before, you just thought that he didn’t like you back.

“I think you’ll look quite good in it, (y/n).”, he almost giggled.

“You’re such a flirt.”, you said sarcastically.

The last gift in the box really got to you though - it immediately brought back a lot of memories, cherished ones, of your childhood. You felt like you were not able to breathe for a second. How did he even get this?

“Jinyoung, I- I-”, was all you could say, “is it what I think it is?”, you asked amazed, not believing your eyes.

“If you think it’s your old music box that played Somewhere Over The Rainbow over and over again, then it is, yes.”

You totally forgot about it until now, back in the day you always used to play it before going to bed, falling asleep immediately to the soothing sound of it.

“Where did you even get this?”, you asked him, trying to hold back your tears, knowing he’d make fun of you.

“Oh, Minwoo gave it to me to calm the cows on thunder days.”, he said amused.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do you like it?”, he asked, turning towards you, “I know how obsessed you were with it as a child so I thought you’d like to have it back. The cows didn’t like it anyway.”

You looked at him, not knowing what to say. He was so cool about it when to you, this might be one of the most meaningful presents you’ve ever gotten. The fact that he even remembered how in love you were with this music box and how thoughtful of him it was to give it back to you. Slowly you put the box down, a bit overwhelmed. It was probably stupid, for him it was just a simple present and you were probably overreacting, right? But still, it was so much more than you would’ve expected.

“I love it, Jinyoung.”, you were now looking at him, the wrinkles around his eyes, that came out whenever he was smiling, deeper than you’ve ever seen them before. “Thank you so much.”

Before he could say something to ruin the moment you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck. It took him a few moments to realize what was happening, a hug was something he didn’t expect at all, but it did feel nice. His arms carefully found your waist and hugged you back.

You could see how red his cheeks were as your hug ended but for once you decided to not tease him, not wanting to ruin a genuinely nice moment. The two of you didn’t have those very often.

“Shall we go home?”, Jinyoung asked softly as he stood up, waiting for you to join him.

The two of you were walking for a while, way slower than usual. It might be the alcohol in your veins or simply the secret desire to spend some more time together, alone and outside of the farm.

“Be honest.”, you said happily, it almost sounded like you were singing it, “You think I’m cute.”, you said looking up to Jinyoung who was smiling and didn’t seem to care about your teasing anymore.

“I do think you’re cute. That doesn’t make you less any annoying though.”, he said shaking his head amused, as you were walking and your shoulders were lightly touching every now and then, a rush of excitement going through your body every single time. “Now you be honest.. You were totally checking me out when you saw me again.”

You let out a small scoff, “I maybe would have if I hadn’t been to busy trying to free myself from your grip since you thought I was stealing some chicken or something.”, Jinyoung let out a laugh at that memory. Even though it wasn’t long ago it felt like years, considering on how much your relationship developed since then. “Your turn. You would’ve gone home sooner but you were waiting to walk me home.”, the vibe Jinyoung gave you told you it was okay to dig a bit deeper.

“Now you’re just being overconfident, (y/n).”, he laughed and you thought about how his laugh is so different than his mum’s. His mum’s laugh was light and charming while his laugh was deep and full of joy.

“If you say I’m wrong you’re lying.”, you insisted while looking up to the beautiful night sky. You felt slightly cold but you didn’t really care, you could walk and talk for a few more hours without complaining.

“I never said you’re wrong.”, he said, now more soft and serious, “But don’t let it get to your head, I know my mum would kill me if she heard that you had to walk home alone.”

“You’re so in love with me dude, that’s gross.”, you said laughing, not able to stop nagging. By now it seemed like that was Jinyoung’s and your’s thing somehow.

“I really don’t know if I wanna shove you off this bridge or kiss you, (y/n).”, he said shamelessly, trying to sound annoyed but his mood was just as good as yours and the playful flirting was something he missed over the last years. It’s been too long since he met someone he liked so much that he didn’t have to care about what he said. Spending time with you made him feel careless. The night air and the sky that was full of stars just loosened up the mood even more.

Even though your heart was beating faster at his comment you tried to remain cool – he said it so casually as if the topic of kissing you was something completely normal to him, making you realize that maybe Jinyoung and you were indeed becoming something more than friends. “Oh, can I pick?”, you said playfully as you lightly swayed your hip into his.

“No.”, he said easily while pushing you towards the edge of the bridge you were currently walking on, making you gasp a bit, while trying to balance yourself so you wouldn’t fall over the low wooden railing. What was he doing? Just in the right moment, he held you, his arm around your waist, being a bit too close to you which was just once again showing you that the two of you were actually going into the direction you wanted to. As you looked at him your eyes were opened wide, the shock written all over your face.

Jinyoung still was holding you close, giving you the brightest smile ever, his expression full of joy, “Did you really think that I’d let you fall?”

“Yes!”, you said, a hundred percent sure that he’d actually do something like that, “If anyone in this town would then it would be you.”

He acted a bit offended, as he pulled your body a bit closer to his again, your intestines feeling all over the place. Half of your body was still bent over the bridge as Jinyoung’s hold was the only support that stopped you from falling right into the water. His face came near yours and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on yours.

“Well, if you think that lowly from me-”, he said before pausing his sentence, you could feel his breath tingling on your lips and see his eyes wandering down to look at your them - but then you started losing balance as Jinyoung let go of your body, making you fall right into the lake behind you. Of course, he’d do something like that.

As you came up again you were drenched. The water was at least still warm enough to not make you shiver while climbing up to the bridge again. Jinyoung was laughing wholeheartedly while holding a hand out for you so he could help you out. You immediately took his offer, taking a tight grip on his hand before getting your revenge – within seconds Jinyoung forcefully joined you in the water, still laughing and shaking his head.

“I should’ve seen that coming.”, he admitted, now also completely wet, shaking his head amused, “I deserved that.”

You now joined his laughter, no one of you seemed to want to get out of the water for now. “Remember the one time we were having a contest here about who can stay underwater the longest when we were children?”, you asked him amused, thinking back to older days, one of the few memories you had with him.

He immediately nodded while walking towards you, leaning against the bridge. His body was close to yours, his face facing yours, the wrinkles around his eyes still there while smiling. “I remember you and Bambam being afraid, thinking I fainted because I let my body swim on the surface with my head under the water still.”

You let out a laugh while playfully hitting his chest, “You were the worst, seriously! Why would you do this to me?”

His arm found your hip, resting lazily on it - you wondered if he’d also do that if he was completely sober. “To make good memories.”, he said, scrunching his nose a bit to look cute.

“Well, that’s also about our only memory because you always avoided me when we were younger.”, you stated, a bit salty.

His laughter sounded different this time, if you didn’t know better you’d almost say there was some kind of admiration in it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”, he said, still laughing before looking at you once again - it’s like you completely forgot about being in the water now in the middle of the night. “Wanna know a secret?”, he asked, maybe even a bit shy.

“Always.”, you said as your eyes widened in excitement since you loved secrets.

“I avoided you because I had the biggest crush on you and Jaebum always said girls suck and if anyone of us kissed a girl they’d be kicked out of the gang.”, he said, laughing at the memory.

“Okay, but Jaebum was literally my first kiss.”, you answered, “I think he knew exactly why he told you that.”

Now it was Jinyoung who was in shock, not you. “You’re kidding me.”, he sounded offended, “I can’t believe he’d play me like this because of some chick.”

“Hello? I’m right here.”, you said, shaking your head amused.

“Oh, I bet you’d rather be where Jaebum is, huh?”, he spotted before breaking character and starting to laugh, “But seriously, he never even told me. He knew I’d fight him about it.”

“It must be hard to always be as dramatic as you are.”, you said laughing, as you got out of the water again, starting to shiver a bit, “Let’s go home, I’m cold.”

He got out of the water too and you tried hard not to stare at his chest that was completely showing through his white shirt. “You should have put on a jacket.”, he said, laughing.

“Oh, you asshole.”, you countered, “I’m only cold because you pushed me into the lake.”

He shrugged as the two of you were walking towards the entrance of the farm.

“I had fun tonight.”, you admitted to him as you were standing in front of your door once again, “You’re not awful.”

He let out a laugh, “Thank you?”, not sure how to understand that he continued, “You’re also not awful, (y/n).”

“I mean, you were not the nicest in the beginning, I thought you hated me. But now, I think you tolerate me.”

“Believe it or not, I think you’re pretty cool.”

You grinned, “I’ll let my diary know about that.”

He just stood there for a second, looking at you. Both of you didn’t want to part, enjoying time with each other but you didn’t want things to get awkward.

“I’m sorry I pushed you into the water.”, he said, laughing while apologizing.

You rolled your eyes at his half-assed apology, “Yeah sure. You better make up for that.”

He nodded, “I will. Good night, (y/n).”, suddenly you felt him hugging you, not expecting it once again. Three hugs in one day were something you didn’t expect at all.

“Sleep well.”, you said to him as you closed the door behind you, removing your make up, changing into comfortable clothes and letting yourself fall into your bed, falling asleep with a smile on your lips. You were definitely making progress.

A few days after It was about time to talk to someone about your confusing feelings. And of course, Jaebum was the first person that came to your mind. As the two of you were sitting outside on your porch, drinking a beer and enjoying the sunset slowly going down, you decided to tell him about what happened after you and Jinyoung left on your birthday.

“He gifted you your old music box?”, he asked confused, almost shocked, “That’s so much better than the vibrator we gifted you, dammit.”

You let out a laugh, “Anything is better than that, Jaebum.”

“Well, apparently you won’t be needing it any time soon if you and Jinyoung continue to fall in love at that pace.”

“Jaebum.”, you let out a pout, “I really don’t know what I should do. He was about to kiss me by the lake but instead, he let me fall into the water.”

Your best friend was trying his hardest to contain his laughter as you told the story but he couldn’t help it, “You really think he’s the one you want? I bet not even Yugyeom would behave that awkward.”

Chuckling, you shrugged, “I guess I just like a challenge.”

Jaebum nodded, “He definitely is one. Bare with him, it’s been some time. His last girlfriend and him broke up quite some time ago.”

Suddenly, you felt curiosity awakening inside of you, “How was she?”

Taking a sip of his beer, he looked at you, a bit pitiful, “Are you sure you wanna do this to yourself?”

“I’m just curious.”, you assured him.

Before Jaebum could start telling you about her you were disturbed by your cousin, who just finished his work, a beer in his hand, sitting down on the free chair on your garden table. “What are you talking about?”

“My hopeless crush.”, you said, laughing.

“What else.”, he said unimpressed, “You could still date Yugyeom, you know.”

You shook your head before turning back to Jaebum, “So, tell me about her, I can’t imagine him with a girl at all.”

“Are we talking about Elly?”, Bambam asked confused, trying to catch up.

“Yes.”, Jaebum said, trying to start once again before getting interrupted by Bambam, also once again. “She wasn’t shit, (y/n). Don’t worry about her. I never liked her. They weren’t even really a couple.”

Jaebum rolled his eyes, “She wasn’t all bad, Bam. She was actually quite nice at the beginning. She’s from the town next to ours, the granddaughter of the owner of the library - we were friends with her back then when she still visited every weekend. She was into Jinyoung from the first second and he was, well, frustrated. So they became friends with benefits. Nothing too serious at first.”

“(Y/n), I really don’t get why you’d wanna know. You’ll just hurt yourself.”, your cousin said, clearly disagreeing with your curiosity.

“They broke up so I won’t be hurt, I just can’t imagine him in a relationship at all. I need some information.”, you argued.

“He was a good boyfriend, I guess.”, Bambam said, taking a big gulp of his beer, “Like he visited her often and made sure to bring her to every event or birthday. But one of them would always start a fight and it got so annoying over time. Every time he brought her I was afraid to say anything to him because if I only said one wrong word she’d start to discuss with him.”

Jaebum now interrupted him, “Well, it wasn’t only her to start a fight, to be fair. Jinyoung often enough started one too, whenever he was in a bad mood he’d always find a reason to fight.”

A scoff came out of your mouth, “I already thought he’d be one to pick fights, to be honest.”

“Speaking of the devil.”, Jaebum nodded towards the house of the Park’s and as you turned around you saw Jinyoung jogging over to you. He looked happy, a smile on his lips, something rather unusual.

“Why are you having a nice evening and no one cared to call me?”, he asked as he arrived in front of you, holding up a big plate with many different pieces of cakes on it, “I brought cake.”

Bambam immediately took the plate and set it in front of him as Jinyoung sat down on the free seat on the bench beside you.

“We were just talking shit about you.”, Bambam said, getting up to get some forks from inside.

“Why? What did I do?”, he asked, already sounding offended, ready to defend himself without knowing what even seemed to be the problem.

“I just told them about how you let me fall into the lake.”, you said, salty, playing a bit hard to get like so often.

“Why would you do that?”, he asked in a whiny tone, “Aren’t they teasing us enough already?”

You scoffed, “I don’t care about that. I still can’t believe you’ve done that. I could’ve caught a cold.”

He now started to act offended, “You didn’t though, right? I brought you cake as an apology, just to find you hanging out with our friends, without me?”

Jaebum let out a laugh at your constant bickering, “Young love must be so nice.”

“Shut up.”, you looked over to Jaebum, giving him a warning glance before you turned back to the real enemy here, “You think cake can just fix the trust I lost in you?”

He let out a laugh, “You’re being overdramatic.”

You knew you were and you weren’t even serious about the whole discussion, you couldn’t care less that he let you fall into the lake. It was just fun to annoy the living shit out of him, “You’re being an asshole.”

He scoffed before continuing your discussion in a mocking voice, “Wanted me to kiss you so bad that you can’t get over the fact that I didn’t?”

You let out a small gasp, not expecting his comeback. Jaebum and Bambam were both giggling like little boys, watching the two of you fight.

“If you think that, you’re truly delusional.”, you said, scoffing, even though everyone here knew he was right, “The only reason I didn’t kill you right then was that I was so relieved you didn’t kiss me.”

He snorted, not ready to give up yet, “Sure, just keep on telling it to yourself until you start to believe it.”

And this is how you spent the rest of the evening. Three of your closest friends, cake, one or two or maybe even more beers, a beautiful pink sunset and most important - in the place you loved to call your home.

#got7 #park jinyoung #jinyoung #got7 imagine #jinyoung imagine #got7 au #jinyoung au #jinyoung scenario #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung fluff #jinyoung fanfiction #jinyoung series #got7 series #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #kpop #kpop fanfiction #got7 jinyoung

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marlahey · 6 years

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we stumbled in the dark; I knew we’d be alright (part twelve)

a shawn mendes rpf fic ratings/warnings: contains descriptions of a panic attack. and angst. notes: I’M ALIVE. thank you everyone for waiting so patiently; these last few weeks have been a lot busier than I was expecting. to make up for the long wait, this part includes links to ten photos from my personal instagram to give you guys a sense of Ellie’s London adventure, and clocks in at a whopping fifteen thousand words. and in other news, I have an ending. part thirteen will be the final part of this fic, and part fourteen (cause I like even numbers) will either be an epilogue or various outtakes – depending on what happens. thank you everyone for all your support! you’ve been amazing. (previously; start at part one here; find all parts here) manchester; now You’re not sure exactly what wakes you, but two thoughts slam forward when you blink your eyes open into a dark room. The first, accompanied by a split second of panic, is that you don’t know where you are. Memories flash quickly: the show, the video. Shawn.

The second, when you’re aware enough to take stock of the rest of your body, is that you can’t remember the last time you were ever really held. You and Shawn clearly shifted in the night; you’ve ended up on your side, facing the window out to a still-sleeping city, while the arm he’d tossed over your waist is now hooked around your ribs, which Shawn had apparently used to pull you firmly into the open curve of his chest.

His breath is warm over the back of your neck, and Shawn’s nose is buried in your hair. He’s holding your hands. You feel like crying, inexplicably. The temptation to close your eyes and fall back asleep is so strong that you’re almost all the way down before you flinch. You fell asleep in Shawn’s bed. You’ve been here all night. You nearly jerk upright, remembering Shawn at the last moment, still breathing even and soft against your skin. You’re half-afraid he has too tight a grip, but as you slide carefully away from him, Shawn doesn’t move. You’re so cold, all of sudden. You drag yourself to the edge of the bed, allowing yourself exactly eleven seconds to stare at him over your shoulder. His face, half hidden in the pillow and his wild curls, is untroubled in sleep, and as you watch Shawn’s body curls forward into the space you’ve just left. It feels like a strange sort of privilege, to see him this way. You didn’t know it was possible to want someone this much. You get up. The journal you bought him over a year ago sits on the bedside table with his prefered brand of black pen. About half the pages are discoloured at the edges and worn with use; you flirt briefly with the idea of leaving a note, loath to let Shawn think you just abandoned him as if this were straight off the album. But you don’t dare lay your hands on one of his most private possessions. A text will have to do. You tiptoe carefully across the room to the adjoining door. Ava is gone. Fuck. “How’d you sleep?” You jump, a shriek and a curse both lodged in your throat, but you shove them down. Your sister leans against the bathroom door with her hair twisted up into a towel, one perfect eyebrow raised. Is she judging you? Laughing at you? Your inner hysteria makes it hard to tell.

“Fine,” you choke out. The truth is though, that you’re exhausted. Ava lets you flounder for another half second before she laughs quietly, shaking her head. “Relax, Lenny. I know you didn’t get laid last night.” You can feel yourself turn pink. “How…?” She points at your phone, left behind on your bed. “Figured you hadn’t gone far. Opened the door when I got up and saw you, both fully clothed and on top of the covers.” Pink turns into red. You’re not embarrassed, exactly, nor are you upset that your sister made a logical guess in looking for you. But something in you flinches anyway at the thought of being seen a second time. “Nothing happened,” you say, unnecessarily if not for a silent it could have. “He just... needed me.” You will your voice not to shake. You won’t apologize for it. Ava meets your gaze steadily.

“Okay.” Her lips purse, just a fraction. “You filled your prescription before we left right?” Your next inhale is a wheeze. “Fucking hell, Ava.” She just raises the other eyebrow. “Yes, now can we please never talk about it again?” Your sister really does laugh at you now. “Doubtful. But consider it dropped for the time being.”

You suppose it’s as good as you’re ever going to get. Mostly, you’re grateful that Ava isn’t currently trying to give you The Talk, that she has not immediately jumped to a place of reservation or shame when it comes to the idea of you and Shawn being...intimate; she’d never do the latter, and the former well– she’s too late to the game. (She had, however, taken you to the doctor’s for birth control just before your fifteenth birthday, after you’d spent a large percentage of your last period lying on the bathroom floor in absolute agony, tearful and nauseous yet unable to even lift your head high enough to vomit. Pain of that magnitude had never occurred before and hasn’t since, and as you stood in line at the pharmacy she’d said, “It should help even you out. And you know, with other stuff. Whenever that happens.” You’d nodded, trying to blush too deeply in front of the elderly gentleman just behind you, holding a pill bottle in his veined and knobbly hands. “Right.” That had been that. Over a year later, after you’d exhausted yourself crying over an ending that included an important beginning, she doesn’t ask you if you were safe. It’s the first time you’d ever felt Ava truly treat you as something besides her little sister – a responsibility. Even though you suppress everything else about that spring, you’ll never forget that feeling.) “Did you know?” you blurt now. “That Shawn was going to ask me to come to New York?” Your sister nods. “He ran it by me, in Dublin.” Ava tilts her head. “Why? Do you not want to go?” “No, I do.” You can’t decide if you’d rather her be concerned or encouraging right now, which one you want versus the one you probably need to hear. “I’m just…” You trail off, remembering how you’d felt only minutes ago waking up in his arms, realizing your fear from Paris has compounded into something deeper. This thing between you and Shawn is real now, and you don’t know if you’re quite prepared to hold it up to the light and see all the ways it could be torn apart. “He’d understand,” Ava says gently. “If you’re not ready.” You shake your head. If he can be brave, you reason, so can you. “I don’t want to disappoint him. We agreed to just give it a try.” You muster a grin. “Besides, how can I pass up New York? There’s so many things I haven’t seen yet.” She laughs lightly. “Fair enough. Do you know what happened to the blow dryer?” You open your mouth to reply; a knock at the adjoining door cuts you off. You have the ridiculous urge to race your sister to the doorknob, but of course she doesn’t move as you answer it. You know it’s Shawn, and yet some part of you is still surprised. It’s too early. I’m not ready. I haven’t put myself back together yet.

He's pulled a hoodie over last night’s t shirt, the hood half-caught around one of his ears as he smiles down at you, still blinking a little sleep from his eyes. “Did I hear something about a blowdryer?” Shawn’s holding one of your constant tour companions, purple like Pablo, in one hand, his toothbrush in the other. “My saviour,” Ava says, crossing the room and taking the dryer. “All packed, kiddo?” Shawn nods. “You guys need help with your bags?” “Nah, we’re fine, thank you. Why don’t you both get dressed and we’ll meet downstairs in ten? We’ll grab some breakfast on the way to the airport.” Ava bumps you gently with her hip on her way to the bathroom. “Do a last toiletries and charger check for me before you close your suitcase, yeah?” “Sure.” Your sister disappears. Moments later, the roar of the blowdryer effectively drowns out anything that you or Shawn might say to each other in the next room. Even so, you’re strangely nervous to meet his eye in approaching daylight. “Morning El.” Everyone seems intent on inwardly laughing at you before you’ve even had a chance to wash your face. “Hi,” you say weakly. “Sorry for uh,” He’d put it well last night. “freaking out and ditching you.” Shawn’s lips twitch. “Don’t worry about it. But...” He leans down and tugs very gently at the hem of your t-shirt. “You should wake me up, next time. Before you go.” Your insides squirm at the idea of next time. “You sure? Even if I can’t stay?” He nods, tightening his grip on the pale pink fabric and using it to pull you forward. Shawn seems to like this, you’ve noticed, the ease with which he can draw you in and keep you. Not, of course, that you ever really resist. He drops a minty kiss on the crown of your head. “I like the idea of waking up to you.” Before your stomach can stop swooping, Shawn leans down further, and only at the last moment do you have enough presence of mind to pull back. “Shawn…” “Just one?” he murmurs, close enough that you can feel his breath against your face. Your stomach swoops again. “Av’s busy.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet,” you complain. You’ve got your hand on his chest to bar him from further movement, but even that feels like too intimate a touch, feeling the broad firmness of him beneath the soft layers of his clothes, still warm from sleep. Shawn presses a little against your fingers. “Don’t care.” Shawn bends until you really have no choice but to bend yourself back – an almost reflection of the shape you’d both made on the bed – tilting his head so all that’s really required is for gravity to pull him down. You roll your eyes, lift your chin, and the curve of his smile touches your closed mouth. “Happy?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t giggle. “Very.” He likes making you blush too much for you to ever be able to really stop. “You’re a goof, you know that?” Shawn’s smile is a little crooked, a lot pleased. “You like me anyway.” He’s not wrong.

Moments after boarding, Shawn coughs exactly twice. Everyone in the cabin exchanges looks, and Andrew declares immediate voice rest for everything that isn’t the BBC breakfast show, where Shawn’s due in two hours, and the following two nights of tour. Ava pulls out the air filtration mask, and Shawn proceeds to make silent faces at you for the next thirty minutes. You don’t mention the planned adventure with the gang, on your technically first day and night off since Germany nearly a month ago. You can tell without asking that he’s already thinking about it. At altitude, you’re proven right. shawnmendes: I can’t believe I’m missing tonight. lennysinclair17: You can’t come and just...not talk? shawnmendes: Doubtful. lennysinclair17: We can hang out instead if you want. Watch a movie. shawnmendes: No way. We’ve been talking about it with everybody for ages. You owe Brian tequila remember? This is true. You glance up, where Shawn is looking pointedly at you with only his eyes and eyebrows.

lennysinclair17: I hate the idea of you stuck in the hotel by yourself. shawnmendes: I’m used to it El. It’s fine. You’re going. You’re not missing out on London because of me. The girls have a million things planned.

This is also true. Everyone is meant to head for breakfast while Shawn is at the BBC, and when he returned the plan was to carefully mislead the legions of fans in the city about where you are and what you’re doing. When Shawn balked at the deliberate unkindness, Geoff had just leveled a look and said, “You want a repeat of your birthday?” There were no more objections after that. And now well – now Shawn couldn’t even speak his unhappiness if he wanted to. shawnmendes: I expect you to bombard me with photos. He looks at you again, and it aggravates you to no end that he knows he’s won the argument. shawnmendes: Do a shot for me.

london; now @TrackingSM: Shawn talking about the Manchester show this morning on @BBCRadio! [Shawn’s curls are only half-tempered by the enormous headphones covering his ears, the camera angle offering a full view of his shoulder and arms in a plain white t shirt. Greg James leans forward onto his elbows. “So tell me about Manchester last night,” he says. “Reports make it out to be a pretty emotional show.” “Yeah,” Shawn replies. “It was amazing. One of the most moving shows I’ve ever had. The crowd was phenomenal.” “I was hoping you’d put a bit of a rumour to rest for us Shawn. Twitter is all a flutter but video of the incident in question is pretty grainy and dark.” “Oh?” Shawn sits up a little, his pendant swinging with the motion. “What rumour is that?” Greg’s smile is gentle. “That you cried, during Youth. Fans in the front few rows swear it happened.” Shawn’s eyebrows fly up, scrubbing his hand up the back of his neck. “Do they?” “I thought you might like a chance to confirm or deny your sensitivity, just between us. It won’t leave this room.” “Oh but it’ll also be broadcast to millions of people?” Shawn and Greg both laugh. “But of course.” There’s a pause, and then Shawn shrugs good-naturedly. “I did shed a few tears last night. It was a pretty overwhelming moment. I’m glad to have shared that with everyone who was there.” “I also want to ask you about who you were spotted hugging after the show,” Greg says, “But sadly we’re out of time. There you have it ladies and gents: proof that Shawn Mendes is, in fact, just a bit like us mere mortals. Thanks for stopping by Shawn, and I hope you have an amazing two back to back shows in London tomorrow and Saturday. My sincere best wishes for the rest of the tour. Anything you want to say to your London fans?” “Thank you so much, Greg. Thanks for having me. And to everybody listening, I’ll see you very soon and I can’t wait to spend two nights with you. I love you so much.” likes: 703; retweets: 5] * There’s maybe half a dozen girls at the hotel by the time you and the gang head out for breakfast, who peer hopefully between Charlie and Brian and then lean back in disappointment; Ava and Paul will leave to pick Shawn up within the hour and sneak him inside through a service entrance. “Damn, Sinclair,” Charlie says as he watches you inhale a latte from across the table. “Preparing for a caffeine shortage?” You shake your head. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.” Brian raises his eyebrows. “Is that why Shawn’s on voice rest?” You promptly choke on your coffee; the boys lean away from the spray as you cough, your eyes streaming. Kristin tosses napkins on the table while Kelsey rubs your back, throwing dirty glares at Parker, Brian, and Charlie, who are all suppressing laughter. “Just because you haven’t gotten any in a year doesn’t mean you get to be disgusting at the table,” she snaps. Parker and Charlie howl. Even Geoff snorts. “I was kidding!” Brian objects, his ears red. “Jesus, Kels. You really gotta air a dude’s private info like that, huh?” Kelsey’s barely raised eyebrow is the most scathing silent expression you’ve ever seen. Apparently mollified, Brian mutters a “Sorry, kid” at you. You wipe your eyes and put down the glass of water Geoff had shoved across the table. “It’s fine, Bri. No worse than my conversation with Ava this morning.” Everyone at the table winces sympathetically. You just shrug, any embarrassment you had left long gone, especially with people who would never betray your secret. “Just fell asleep guys, perfectly tame. But we’re definitely not gonna make it a habit.” “Wise,” Geoff says. “But this is definitely the happiest I’ve ever seen him before the crack of dawn in a long time.” It’s your turn to blush. “Can we talk about something else please?” “Well we haven’t picked a museum yet, for after Big Ben and Buckingham Palace,” Parker offers. You smile at him. “What were we between? Victoria and Albert and National Gallery?” “The V&A is a little more fun,” Charlie remarks, and you’re reminded of all the anecdotes he’s told you about his year abroad when he wasn’t that much older than you. “You didn’t want to see Natural History¹?” “Vetoed by the New Yorkers.” Parker casts a sardonic eyeroll at Kristin, who meets his eye entirely unphased. “It’s the principle of the thing,” she says. “Just can’t do it.” “I’m down with whatever,” Brian chimes in, “As long as tonight ends in a pint glass.” “V&A it is then?” Geoff, as ever, is the mediator. There are nods all around the table. “And after?” Ellie and I are off to the Kew Gardens for a couple of their limited exhibitions.” Kelsey stirs her own coffee as she speaks. “If anyone wants to join us. Otherwise, shall we all just branch off and meet up tonight for dinner and drinks?” More nodding. “We’d better eat quick guys,” Parker says as the last plate is laid on the table. “Sinclair looks like she’s gonna pass out in her potatoes.” * Brian’s arm lands, a familiar weight, around your shoulders at the last crossing before you’re back on your hotel’s street. You’ve journeyed further into Central London and seen a few major landmarks, and everyone has agreed on a rest before going out again. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” You cast him a bemused look, though half your attention is still on the traffic, backwards to everything you know, mesmerizing in its strangeness. “Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?” The bassist shrugs almost sheepishly. “What I said, earlier. Didn’t want you to feel bad.” You laugh, and a quick glance around reveals you to be the only people at the light, so you’re comfortable enough to say, “Truthfully, Shawn and I don’t have a sex life to speak of. And even if we did, you’ve never offended me with a joke, okay?” You lean into his shoulder a little for emphasis. The light turns in your favour, and you let Brian carry some of the weight of your tired bones across the bustling street. “Let me at least buy you another coffee,” Brian says. “Take it up, take a nap after, and we’ll all be good to go for tonight. I won’t have you tapping out before tequila, Sinclair.” “We’re almost back,” you point out. “We can just order one, can’t we?” Brian points further down, to a place labeled simply EAT. “Charlie’s been talking about a fucking matcha something or other for weeks. Says he got it out the train station every morning for like three months. You don’t wanna try that?” You laugh again. “If that’s the way you sell it, Bri. Let’s go.” He shakes his head, relinquishing you from beneath his arm. “You go up, say hi to the boy wonder. I’ll grab us a couple to go. You like you’re about to fall over.” You should be insulted, probably, but even though your body is somewhat used to the constant movement and changing time zones, the moment your mind said we don’t have a show tonight, everything in you is screaming for rest. “Thanks,” you say, relenting. “See you up there.” You’d lost the rest of the gang at the corner while you and Brian talked, and now coming up to the hotel entrance alone, you wish desperately that you hadn’t. The six girls from this morning has somehow already morphed into more than you can count, taking up the pathways on either side of the entrance, much to the both bemusement and annoyance of passers by. People across the street are gawking. Your heart thumps, harder and faster than it should, as you force your legs forward. You tell yourself that just getting to the door will probably be easier than loitering in wait for Shawn’s bandmate, who would definitely give you away. So you swallow and try to keep your head down. And that seems to work, as you move past the throng of young girls and boys whose blending, half-hushed voices are like the buzz of a hive. Until it doesn’t. “Oh my god.” A hiss cuts through your concentration, and you’re stopped by a hand. You look up to the face of a girl, her highlight beaming and her lip gloss glistening, even in a half-overcast morning. Perfectly manicured fingernails wrap around your forearm. “You’re on Shawn’s crew, aren’t you?” “I–” You’re suddenly aware of dozens of eyes on you. “I’m–” There’s a dawning in her expression; you look desperately for anyone you know. “Are you the girl from Manchester?” “Do you know when Shawn’s coming down?” asks another voice. Nerves stick your vocal cords together. “I don’t think he is.” “What?” The distressed murmur of the girl next to her echoes through the crowd. “What do you mean?” “He’s tired,” you say, knowing it’s the truth – the message burning a hole in your pocket – though it feels like a major breach to concede to even this. “He was on BBC One this morning, and we flew in so early–” “But we’ve been waiting hours!” the second girl wails, and the one holding your arm tightens her grip, narrowing her eyes. You want to wrench yourself from her hold, but the screaming instinct to protect Shawn from this mob and the constant shadow of your secret freezes you in place. The crowd presses in tighter. “How do you know?” You feel like you’re in first grade. “He’d say if he was tired, wouldn’t he?” demands someone else. A phone appears in your peripheral vision; panic overtakes the nerves, squeezing your lungs. “Please let go of me.” “I don’t believe you.” There’s something so insistent in this girl’s eyes, a demand you could never fulfill. “Shawn–” “Red!” To your eternal relief, even though it’s a name you’ve never been called, you know it’s Brian. Ignoring all the heads that turn in his direction, the bassist makes a beeline for you, holding a tray of coffee. His eyes zero in on the pink nails still keeping you captive. “What’s going on here?” “Amber,” someone hisses, and you watch long imprints leave your skin. Amber’s mouth drops open when Brian reaches for your elbow and tugs you closer to him. “C’mon,” he says to you now. You’ve never seen Brian look anything but cheery and warm; his eyes are stormy as he leads you gently forward. “Let’s go.” You’re too grateful for a friendly face to speak. “W-Wait!” cries another voice in the crowd. “Is Shawn coming down or not?” “No,” Brian snaps without looking back. “He’s on voice rest till tomorrow.” There’s more agonized noise, like he’s just told the mass of heads and phones that Shawn’s leaving London entirely and never coming back. Some people start to leave in a huff. Only steps from the entrance, you notice a girl who can’t be older than you, being shouldered aside by the person next to her, clutching an envelope in her hands and clearly trying to mask her disappointment. You think abruptly of Clara, so much so that it stops you in your tracks. “Are you okay?” you ask. The girl’s chin jerks up, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry about this.” “N-No!” she stammers. “I understand, he needs time to rest. I’m–” The envelope creases between her fingers. You step closer so she doesn’t have to raise her voice. “I’m fine, thank you. I um, didn’t even really want a picture anyway, but I couldn’t afford a meet and greet and I just...” She trails off, clearly just as uncomfortable as you at being the centre of the crowd’s frenzied attention. You nod your head at the white rectangle. “Did you want to give that to Shawn?” Her eyes are glassy. Your inexplicable urge to cry from earlier suddenly rears its head again. “I can take it for you, if you want.” Tears spill over her cheeks. You’re very glad, even more than you were moments ago, that Brian is still there, holding you up. The girl hands you the envelope, labeled simply with Shawn in careful block letters. “What’s your name?” You accept the offering with care. “Are you coming to either of the shows?” “Morgan.” Her voice hiccups. “I’ll be there tomorrow night. Thank you so much.” You manage a smile. “See you tomorrow. I’ll make sure he gets this.” “Red,” Brian says, not a shout but sharp enough that you know he’s done with this whole thing. Phone camera are surely still rolling. You nod, and wave at Morgan with the envelope in your hand. Brian holds the door open for you; people are shouting for him, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. He doesn’t let go of you until the doors swing closed. “Red?” you ask as you wait for the elevator, chancing a glance at his still thunderous expression. The bassist exhales. “Couldn’t exactly call you Sinclair, could I?” “Sorry,” you start, suddenly ashamed, hoping he doesn’t think you an absolute idiot. “I tried to just walk past–” “Hey, no.” Brian turns fully to face you. “That wasn’t your fault. We just wanna keep you safe, yeah?” You blink in the face of his intensity. “I–” You have to swallow a new knot in your throat. “Yeah. Thanks.” To your surprise, he follows you off the elevator and into the hall. “Where are you going?” “He’s gotta know about this,” The bassist says, and before you can stop him, bangs with the flat of his hand on Shawn’s door. “Hey kid!” “Bri, no!” You drag his arm back. “I’m fine. He doesn’t need–” Brian shakes his head, raising his hand again despite your best efforts. Before he can knock again, the door opens. Shawn only looks half-awake, back in the hoodie from this morning. He smiles, but you can tell that you’ve been too slow to hide the panic that hasn’t faded yet from behind your eyes. Pablo is plugged in and puffing cheerily away; you force yourself to inhale deeply. “Looked out the window yet?” Brian asks. Shawn shakes his head, but his attention is over his shoulder at you, a question, even as Brian practically hauls him over to almost floor to ceiling glass. You watch as familiar eyes nearly bug away from sleep-mussed curls. “We gotta deal with this,” Brian says. “Sinclair just–” “I’m fine,” you insist loudly. Shawn’s head whips around. You point at him, a lightning reminder. “You cannot talk.” You swing to Brian. “And it wasn’t a big deal–” “Someone grabbing you wasn’t a big deal?” You wince at the shout. “What?” Shawn’s voice is crackly from lack of use, but there’s no mistaking the alarm. You try to recreate Kris’ truly withering expression from breakfast. Brian, however, does not look sorry. “What would you have done if I hadn’t walked up right then?” he demands. It’s hard work to ignore the pole of Shawn’s eyes; you manage it in favour of glaring at his bassist. “It’s not like I wasn’t six feet from the door!” Brian points an imperious finger at the glass. “That girl laid hands on you. Did you see how many people are out there? Some of those guys were twice your size!” More knocking on the door cuts off your opportunity to shout back, though in all honestly you’re not sure what you would have said. You didn’t think Amber would have actually hurt you, but you can’t deny that even now, dozens of feet above the street, the memory of the press of the crowd still makes your heart race. Andrew sweeps an eye over the room. Shawn no longer looks like he’s the referee of a really uneven boxing match, but the tension in the room is palpable enough that Ava shoots you a bewildered look behind Andrew’s back. “You’re not going down there,” the man says. “This part of London is extremely busy. Paul and Cam can’t contain three hundred people without the help of police, and we don’t want to bother them.” He narrows his eyes. “And you’re still on voice rest.” Shawn swallows and nods, though he’s visibly frustrated by the situation. You sneak a last glare at Brian, daring him with your eyes. If he gives you up now, you probably won’t speak to him for the rest of the day. “We thought you could do an Instagram Q&A,” your sister continues. “You know, that question box feature? Then you don’t strain your voice and people sort of get to see you today.” Shawn picks up his phone from the bedside table; moments later, Andrew lifts his own. “No,” he replies aloud. “We don’t need to check your answers beforehand. You can just treat this like an Instagram live. Do it for however long you like.” “Get some rest, okay?” Ava smiles gently. “You look beat.” His lips quirk, but the smile doesn’t quite reach Shawn’s eyes. His management team departs, leaving the both of you and Brian as the points of a skewed triangle in the middle of the room. The bassist sighs and places a single to-go cup on the window sill. “I won’t tell them,” he assures you. You let your shoulders relax a fraction. “But only if you agree that you won’t go wandering around without one of us for the rest of the tour.” Part of you balks. Ava and Andrew – and everyone – are surely going to see your face online before either of you has time to tell anyone, and you resent the thought of being chaperoned like a child. But the rest of you knows he’s right. You’re shaken by what just happened to you, even if a streak of stubborn pride will never let you admit it. “Fine.” To your surprise, Brian crosses the room in two long strides before leaning down and dropping a dry kiss on your cheek. “I’ll tell Kels to give you an hour at least, yeah?” And then all of a sudden you’re alone with Shawn the first time since you woke up in his bed this morning. The door is barely closed before he’s reaching for you, his hands skimming up your sides and over your elbows like he’s looking for injury. “If you talk,” you warn, “I’m going to hang out with the girls right now and I’m going to ignore you all night.” Shawn rolls his eyes, but when he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, you don’t need to hear his voice to understand what he’s asking. “I’m not hurt.” You wrap a hand around his wrist. You know that’s not what Shawn really means, but pretending is easy when he can’t dispute you. “You better get on–” He shakes his head, emphatic. It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Shawn can be stubborn if he wants. He’s not doing anything until you tell him. “The girl recognized me, I guess, from last night, and–” His surprise is clear. You pick up your pace, anxious to get all this talk over with. “They wanted to know when you were gonna come down, and didn’t believe me when I said you were tired.” A flash of irritation casts a shadow over his expression, followed by something you can only describe as a protective glare; you’re startled to realize that it’s not for him, but for you. Shawn’s eyebrows crease now as he brushes his thumb over the bags beneath your eyes, another question. You shrug. “I could use a nap,” you say honestly. “But if I lay on that bed I’ll never get up again.” He seems to consider this, before pulling you towards the enormous armchair next to the window. You watch as he sits, takes a quick selfie, and gestures for you to join him. “You’re a giant,” you protest, and he just snorts and reaches for you again. Shawn seems determined, so you fold yourself into his lap, angling your legs across him and the arm of the chair so your feet are supported by the sill. The coffee Brian left is delicious, and you make a note to buy another when you can actually appreciate it, offering the rest to Shawn. It’s surprisingly comfortable, this armchair jenga: your cheek against his soft sweater, Shawn’s arm wrapped around your back so he can hold you there and type with both hands in front of your face. Hey guys, I just wanted to confirm that I am actually on voice rest until tomorrow before the show so I can be in top form to play for you all. I wish I could come down and meet you, but security is also really concerned about the size of the crowd and I don’t want any of you or my team getting hurt... Instead, I’ll be doing a story Q&A for you! Leave questions and I’ll answer as many as I can! Love you xx “Not hurt,” you remind him, a little more petulantly than probably necessary. Shawn just leans his cheek against yours, holding up his phone so you can see the text he’s pulled over his smiling mouth in two photos and the question box. “You’re good. No typos.” He brushes his mouth over your hair in thanks, and you watch him post the photos. Almost immediately, his story is inundated. Shawn takes the first about the Q&A and M&Gs, assuring everyone that they’re still on. You see at least three demanding who Red is. Shawn gestures at the question but doesn’t move to answer it. “Brian. Pretty genius, not gonna lie.” His huff of laughter is warm against your face. You find yourself relaxing, almost unwittingly, into this cozy little space Shawn’s created for you. You blink drowsily, until Shawn flicks the white envelope you’d almost forgotten, still dangling between your fingers. “S’for you,” you murmur. “Saw a girl outside, she looked a bit like Clara.” He stops typing. “She couldn’t do a meet and greet and she just wanted to give you this.” Shawn takes the envelope gingerly. You concentrate on the view of the South Bank outside the window as he slides a finger beneath the seal and pulls out a thrice-folded sheet of paper, torn from a notebook but carefully freed of frayed edges, and full of impossibly neat blue ink. You feel him tap your nose gently when you let your eyelids drop closed. “Not for me to read,” you tell him without looking up, lulled by the steady rise and fall of Shawn’s breath. “She’ll be there tomorrow though.” He hums, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Don’t let me sleep too long, please.” You burrow into him a little like a cat. “I really owe Brian that shot now.” Shawn breathes another laugh, but squeezes you gently in reply. A minute later, his hand slides beneath your chin again, and you smile with your eyes still closed when Shawn kisses you, slow and languid. Your heart starts to race again for an entirely more pleasant reason. “If you keep that up,” you say when he pulls back for air, blinking to find his smiling face shining down on you, “I might reconsider leaving at all.” Shawn shakes his head and kisses your forehead instead. His left hand reaches up, sliding gently to tuck your hair behind your ear. As you settle back against his shoulder, his fingers continue to glide through in a steady rhythm, like a gentle wave that eventually coaxes you to sleep. * In the end, after almost getting lost in the depths of all the exhibits at the Victoria and Albert Museum², the gang parts ways like this: you and Kelsey board a Richmond bound overground train to the Kew Gardens³; Parker and Kristin wander Hyde Park; Geoff, Charlie, and Brian trek up to Brick Lane. Remembering Shawn’s request, you snap photos of everything, from the MIND THE GAP yellow platform line to everyone posing in front of Canada House⁴ in Trafalgar Square. London on its own is possibly one of your favourite cities you’ve ever been to, but the fact is cemented when Kelsey leads you through the Gardens; you visit Palm⁵ House⁶, the orchid⁷ festival⁸, and the most breathtaking of all: the Life and Death exhibit by Rebecca Louise Law. (Kelsey convinced you weeks ago to finally start posting to your still-private Instagram; she gets a particularly nice one⁹ on your third go round of the specifically marked path through the endless garlands of flowers, though Shawn also likes the slightly blurred one of you laughing too close to the camera.¹⁰ The exhibit reminds you of his desire to last, for his music to endure; you wish, like you’ve wished all day, that he were here.) A few hours later, Brian gets his wish. At a bustling pub maybe three-quarters full, one of the bartenders – an older Englishman with an impressive beard wearing a Star Wars t-shirt – patiently recommends the array of London beer available to the group. Geoff leans over the bar to shake his hand, insisting on his name so as to thank him properly. “Pete,” the man says. “It’s a pleasure.” Finally, you’re the last to order. “And for you?” You’re hyper aware of people leaning on nearly every inch of the dark wood, which runs in an enormous oval in the centre of the room. The only other bartender looks younger, though he’s as tall as Shawn; you can’t see much of his face through the thick crowd, but women in the room eye him with interest. “I’m not much of a beer person,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “Cider?” Pete offers, tapping the glossy label of the last spout in the row in front of him. “Sweeter, you know, made from apples and all.” “Sure.” “Pint?” He watches you consider the enormous glass in Charlie’s hand with trepidation. “Half?” “Half, please.” You smile delightedly when Pete produces a miniature version of a pint, shaped and embossed with the same cider name and text as the full-scale you can see dotted around the room. Geoff beats everyone to the punch paying for the round, and the gang snags a corner of benches and small stools on the far side of the pub, beneath a wall displaying twenty-five varieties of gin. Facing the bar, you have ample opportunity to people watch, dipping in and out of the flow of conversation; Charlie and Parker are currently debating the merits of pizza versus pasta in an ‘every day for the rest of your life’ context (you, for the record, choose pasta). The pub fills up quickly. The crowd seems to lean more towards elder locals, though as you sit there, a young woman, probably around Kelsey and Kristin’s age, snakes through the room, weaving easily around the throng to the end of the bar closest to you. She greets Pete by name and several clusters of people, taking a stool. When Kristin rises for another round several minutes later, you watch as the serious looking younger bartender looks towards the girl on the stool, but she nods her head at Kris instead, so he serves her first. When a half pint of cider is finally placed in front of her, the girl smiles warmly at him. He leans his elbows on the bar as they talk, familiarity between them though the pub is too loud for you to be able to make anything out. “He’s cute,” Kelsey says, more conversational than anything. You nod absently. You suppose it’s instinctive to compare this stranger to Shawn: this boy is similarly pale, though his hair is a lighter shade of brown and sticks up shorter where Shawn’s curls over his forehead. The other boy also has a more square face, and his eyes are a striking shade of blue. You think of Hannah. This bartender is exactly her type, right down to the eye colour (she’d lamented to you years ago about the boringness of brown eyed boys, though these days you couldn’t disagree more). If you were on speaking terms, you would have snuck a photo and sent it along with several suggestive emojis. But now you just let the thought pass with a dull ache.

* “Hey. Sinclair.” Charlie’s voice tickles your hair in a familiar whisper as you lean on the bar some three and a half rounds later. You need water. “Be cool.” “Right,” you reply without turning your head. You watch him slide his credit card onto the bar, beneath your hand. “You’re going to order the first round of tequila with this card, and you’re not gonna let Geoff or Brian see. They’re getting air with the girls. I’m supposed to be in the bathroom.” “Because they already suspect you?” “Obviously.” “Obviously,” you echo, smiling. “Okay, done.” “My girl,” he says affectionately. Charlie murmurs the pin in your ear and slips away again. A minute later, the young bartender finally turns to you. He looks expectant and you’re momentarily at a loss; fuck his eyes are really blue. “May I have a glass of water?” you ask, regaining your tongue, and he nods, lifting the spray nozzle in his hand. “And seven shots of tequila?” He raises an eyebrow at you as if to confirm he heard you right. “Seven?” His accent isn’t English, but you don’t have a good enough ear to place it. French, maybe? You flush just a little. “My friends are outside.” He nods again, exhaling like he’s holding back laughter. “Lime or lemon? Salt?” “Lime, please. And salt.” You watch him line seven glasses along the bar and fill them expertly. “Are you Canadian?” he asks, conversational. You blink in surprise. Most people assume the other side of the border. “Yes.” He smiles, a fleeting thing. “You sound like someone I know,” he explains, before turning away to slice a new lime on the centre island. Aware of eyes on you, you look up to catch three men with various shades of salt and pepper and silver hair, stealing glances down the bar at you and conferring amongst themselves. You look away, unsure of what to do. “Don’t mind them,” says a voice from behind you. You turn to find the girl from the end of the bar, her cheeks flushed. She lifts her chin at the men. “You’re new and pretty and they’re just being weirdos thinking you won’t be able to handle your liquor.” This must be the fellow Canadian. Some strange part of you is pleased. “Okay then,” you say slowly, and she smiles at you before sitting at an empty stool and turning towards the boy behind the counter. “Ben,” she calls, drawing out the ‘e’. He looks up. “May I have two shots of tequila when you’re done?” She glances over at your small fleet. “Or are you out already?” Ben shakes his head. “Got another bottle. You’re not having both are you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m double fisting it tonight.” The girl laughs. “One’s for Lex. She’s making friends outside, as usual.” The bartender nods his head at you. “Guess where she’s from?” From his tone, this seems like a well worn question. Her eyes light up as she turns back to you. “Canada?” You nod, and her smile is ridiculously wide. “Toronto.” You’ve never seen someone so delighted by your hometown before. “Amazing. Love it there.” “You?” you ask as Ben presents a small plate of seven nearly perfect wedges of lime. “Alberta. Oh sorry, how rude of me.” She reaches a hand out. “I’m Iris.” You shake. “Ellie.” “Nice to meet you Ellie. This is Ben.” Iris nods her head at the boy on the other side of the smooth, dark wood. “Who is terrible at introductions.” “I’m working,” he objects, depositing another two glasses in front of her as he says it. “You’re the one who likes talking to everybody.” You pay for the tequila with Charlie’s card. “And you talk to me, so we’re golden.” Iris grins at him, clearly pleased with her logic. Ben rolls his eyes, but there’s no real malice in it. He lays a wedge of lime over the top of each of Iris’ full shots and pushes the salt towards her. “You’re drunk.” “Not drunk,” Iris corrects. “Tipsy.” “How many have you had?” he asks. “Mm, four.” She squints at her shot. “No, five.” “Five?” Ben frowns. “I only served you three drinks.” Iris laughs. “Oh but Pete loves me, didn’t you know?” “Is there a magic number?” you ask, intrigued. She opens her mouth, but another voice says, “Seven.” From behind Iris another girl has appeared, though her accent is definitely English. In tow, somehow, is the entire gang. “Alex!” Iris hauls her friend forward. “This is Ellie. She’s Canadian.” “As are almost all her friends.” Alex gestures at the band and the girls. “Everyone, this is Iris, my tiny Canadian, who can only consume a specific variety of seven drinks in one evening before she’s pissed.” “Why is that always how you introduce me?” Iris complains. Behind the bar, Ben snorts. “Because it’s my favourite fact about you!” Alex winks at you. Introductions are made and shots are passed down. “Can I propose a toast? To Canada, for producing really cool people?” “Can we counter that toast with London for doing the same?” Brian asks, and Alex clinks her glass with his. “Here here!” You lock eyes with Iris last, who grins before tapping her glass on the bar and throwing it back. “Shall we take this back outside?” Alex suggests. Iris waves her off while the gang agrees.

“Gotta pee, see you in a sec.” You reach forward to help instinctively as Iris gathers all the empty glasses and discarded lime into a pile for Ben, who sweeps them off the bar and begins to serve again.

“Alright, Ellie?” Kelsey asks, and you nod. “I think I’ll hang here for a bit.”

“You know where to find us,” she says, and everyone leaves you and Iris seated together. “Six?” you prompt.

She nods, laughing lightly. “Six. Thankfully Lex lives literally three minutes down the street, so I don’t have far too go if we tip over the edge tonight.” Iris hops off her stool, proclaiming she’ll be back in two. You nurse your water, and watch in surprise as Ben reappears, sliding a steaming mug and saucer of tea across the bar in front of Iris’ empty seat. You can smell the peppermint from a foot away. He winks at you, lifting a finger to his lips. You blush before you can stop yourself.

Minutes later, Iris returns, staring at the tea as she sits down. “Did I order this?” You shrug. “Fuck,” she mutters. “Am I that sloshed already?” Iris furrows her eyebrows and leans forward to catch Ben’s attention. “Was this you?” He looks amused but doesn’t deny it. “I know you,” he says. “You’re drunk now, and you’re going to ask me for it.” Ben’s smile is teasing. “Only person ever to chase tequila with tea.”

Iris makes a face. “You know what, Ben?” But the question clearly doesn’t even have an answer; Iris just resorts to scowling and Ben’s laughter transforms his entire face. Oh, you think. I get it now.

“I hate you,” she mutters. “No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Iris sighs, as if she’s long since resigned herself to the fact. But when she looks at Ben again her eyes are soft. “Thank you lovely.” Iris uses lovely like a noun, like a tender endearment.

You feel abruptly as though you’re intruding on something private. Ben shrugs a little. “That’s alright.” He glances down and then up again, smiling with one side of his mouth higher than the other – you’re reminded so viscerally of Shawn that it’s hard not to stare – before he’s called away further down the bar.

“He’s right though.” Iris laughs a little again. “I’m pretty much drunk now.” She runs a finger around the rim of her mug. “I’d better drink this.” Her smile is almost rueful. “Don’t become best friends with bartenders. You’ll start drinking way too much.” “Noted.” “So what brings you to London, Ellie?” You should lie, probably. “We’re on tour with a musician. He’s not here tonight.” “Oh yeah? Anyone I’d know?” The shot has loosened your tongue. But there’s something very warm in Iris’ gaze, something trustworthy. “Shawn Mendes?” Her eyebrows fly up. “Seriously? Holy shit! I love him. I wish I’d known he was in town sooner. I would’ve dragged Lex to go see him. Is everyone part of his team?” You nod. “And you?” “Um,” you say. “I’m not– I’m no one.” Iris casts you dubious look. You swallow. “It’s complicated.” The older woman studies you for another moment, before she smiles gently. “You don’t have to tell me,” she says. “I’m just a slightly drunk girl in a pub drinking tea.” Iris takes a long sip. You don’t know why you say it; maybe you’re also more drunk than you thought. Maybe, like with Taylor, something in you knows that Iris is safe. Or maybe you can’t bear the weight of this truth anymore. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.” Iris puts down her cup. “Oh honey.” It’s not a condescension, but an empathy. Before you know it, the story in its entirety comes pouring out. You tell Iris about your sister, the first tour across the States, about every correspondence over the long break between albums, about Clara and Hannah and Amber and Morgan. You tell her about the Twitter threads, popping up faster than Ava can even ask you about them, about Andrew’s iron fist, and about this strange fear of your own wanting whenever Shawn’s eyes go dark. “It’s the talk, that’s the worst.” you admit. “They’re all just speculating, and I want to be able to just ignore it, you know, but some fans are just…” You don’t dare finish your sentence. Iris nods thoughtfully. “Gossip can be pretty awful,” she says. “It can ruin a lot, if you let it.” You follow her eyes across the room to Ben, who is pouring with both hands and then impressively, leaning his forehead on a third spout to finish a set Guinness. He makes a silly face at her over the row of taps and she smiles back at him, though when he turns away, there’s something very sad in it. Your curiosity burns but you don’t dare give it voice. “I know it must all feel like too much,” Iris continues. “But you know how Shawn feels about you.” She swivels to face you fully. “That’s more than a lot of us ever get. You took your chance before anyone could say anything about it.” She reaches for your hands and squeezes gently. “You deserve to be happy. And your secret’s safe with me, okay? I swear.” You’re going to cry, definitely. “I’m scared.” If you’re going to bare your soul tonight, you may as well go all the way. “I’m scared that all of this is going to ruin us before we even get started.” It could be the alcohol, but it looks like Iris flinches. You’ve regretted enough in your life to be able to see it, even distantly, in someone else’s face. “Don’t let people who’ll never matter in your relationship dictate your actions,” she says. You force yourself to hold her eyes. “You were that brave before. You can be that brave again.” She smiles, and that distant look disappears. “I know I’m not an expert in the business, but you’re such a sweetheart. And Shawn seems wonderful. Plus, you’re so young.” “I miss him,” you blurt, and she squeezes again. “Isn’t that stupid? I see him everyday.” Iris shakes her head. “Not stupid at all. You said you have tonight off right?” At your confirmation, she asks, “So what are you still doing here?”

Good question. “I’ll be right back,” you say now. Iris lifts her mug of tea in approval, her eyes sparkling as you rush out to the patio area. The gang is still chatting with Alex, who has her head on the shoulder of a handsome man as they sit amongst the low benches and chairs. “Kris?” The lighting expert looks up at you, her head tilting when she takes in your possibly wild expression. “I think I’m gonna go.” “Are you okay?” she asks, standing to give you a careful look. You nod. “I just…” You struggle to find the right words. “Want a little time.” Kristin’s gaze softens. “Sure. Let’s sort our bill and go, okay? We can Uber if we’ve missed the last train.” “You don’t have to–” you start, but she shakes her head. “Set up starts early,” she says, waving away your protest. Kris leans down to speak to Parker, who thankfully gives you enough grace to not even look up at you before he too, is on his feet. “I think we’re gonna call it,” he says casually to the group. “And we have Sinclair. We’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast?” There are nods and goodbyes all around. As Parker and Kristin pay their tabs with Pete, you find Iris in the same place, accepting a kiss on the cheek from a short, older man with a weathered face and kind eyes.

“If I were just forty years younger,” he says, and her lips quirk like it’s something she’s heard before. “I’d absolutely say yes, John.” Her smile widens when she catches sight of you. “Ellie! Headed out?” You nod, and it’s oddly wonderful to have a stranger seem proud. “It was so amazing to meet you.” Iris pulls you in for a hug. “Go get him,” she says in your ear, squeezing tight. You look back once at the door. Ben is wiping the counter on the far side of the bar, and glances up. You lift your hand in a wave, which he returns. From her seat, Iris throws her head back in laughter with the same man, the sound just a touch louder than the music and the hum of conversation. Ben looks over at her, smiles, and goes back to work. * Shawn looks so pleased to see you that you nearly blurt it out right then and there. But then his eyebrows lift in confusion, and he taps his watch. You’re back early. “It just occurred to me,” you say, feeling slightly breathless, “that this probably looks like a booty call. Do people still call it that?” Shawn looks like he’s tempted to laugh, but you stumble on. “But I don’t care. I wanted to see you.” He blinks. Sober you would blush beneath the warmth of his gaze. “I probably also sound drunk,” you continue. “Which I’m not, entirely. I’m a little tipsy. But still perfectly in control of myself.” More or less. He’s going to laugh at you again. Before you can drop too far into mortification, Shawn pulls you in by the wrist. You can feel the tequila warming you through, emboldening you. It’s freeing in a way, the fact that he can’t speak and you instinctively stop wanting to either; you say enough, you think, dragging Shawn down by the collar, and so does he, pinning your hips against the door with both hands. Your mouths meet in the middle and well– Talking’s overrated, isn’t it? (You have enough presence of mind to set an alarm, this time.) You tiptoe back to your room at 12:37am, when midnight became ten more minutes, and then ten more, and so on and so forth. It’s burned into your brain, that look in Shawn’s eyes, as he sat up against his headboard and you knelt between his open legs, pulling yourself up so you looked down on him in a thrilling flip of your height difference. You’re grateful this shirt doesn’t wrinkle and there’s no visible proof of Shawn’s fingers having found their way under it, ascending the tower of your spine and making you shudder nearly as hard as he did when you seized his curls and tilted his head back for a kiss. He bumps into the bottom of your bralette and not-quite-drunk you is glad that despite how nice it looks, it’s not so easy to get out of. You know, and Shawn does too, judging by his smile, that anything beyond his gently wandering hands is probably a bad idea. It doesn’t stop you from trembling as he traces the lace around your back, over your ribs, keeping your eyes the entire time and making no move to pull it off or touch you beneath it. Even though both the tipsy and sober halves of you want him to. You wish, slipping into your dark hotel room, that you’d been just drunk and brazen enough to simply yank your top off, like in one of those smooth movie moments, but of course you hadn’t been. But that’s okay, you know, taking care not to drop the bottle of water Shawn had pressed into your hand between goodbyes at (against) the door. Tonight was not the night. You still have someday. * @stanmendes88: SOMEONE TRIED TO ASK HIM ABOUT RED WHAT THE FUCK. WHY ARE PEOPLE LIKE THIS??? [The horizontal video focuses mostly on Shawn, sitting with both legs dangling off the stage. At the edge of the camera, perfectly manicured pink nails wrap around the microphone. “I was wondering what your relationship with your crew is like?” “They’re the best,” Shawn replies easily, leaning back on his palm. “I’ve never worked with more hardworking and dedicated people.” “Anyone in particular?” the girl presses. He stiffens, almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry?” Someone further behind the camera whispers, “Oh my god.” The girl is still holding the mic, even though her question is up. “People think you might be closer with certain members of your crew than others.” Heads are whipping back and forth like they’re watching a ping-pong match. The camera trembles as it zooms in on Shawn. “People think a lot of things,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes are flinty, the curve of his mouth frozen in place. “But considering this question doesn’t really seem about me, I think we should move on.” An audible murmur flits through the assembly of gathered fans. One face in view is shooting manicured girl an extremely judgemental look. “Hi Mr. Shawn.” Coos and ‘aww’s’ overtake the room as the camera turns to a little girl, no older than eight, as she smiles up at Shawn from the front of the room. Everyone’s attention turns to Shawn, who has hopped off the stage to crouch down in front of the new speaker. “Hi, sweetheart.” likes: 32; retweets: 6] * “Ellie, there you are.” You nearly drop the kit. Shawn’s manager looks strangely incongruous in the doorway of the spare dressing room, where all the extra, smaller pieces of fragile equipment are going to live over the next two nights. The O2 is one of the most intimidating venues you’ve ever seen; even tracing your steps back to this room for one of Kelsey’s lenses had been an ordeal. “Shawn’s two doors down,” you blurt, thinking he’s just mistaken, but Andrew doesn’t move. “I’m looking for you, actually.” Your stomach plummets. Dread takes root around your lungs, making it hard to speak. “Did you need something?” You haven’t broken any of the rules since you left Manchester. If anything, after news of the day’s Q&A spread, you’ve been avoiding Shawn entirely and he’s been giving you slightly forlorn, but understanding glances all day. But he’s due onstage in less than ten minutes so you’re in show mode now; some awful part of you is grateful for the distance. “No.” “Am I–” You scramble to put down the lens. It’s foolish to think he doesn’t know, this man who’s been part of Shawn’s life longer than anyone else on this tour. “Am I behaving unprofessionally?” He shakes his head. Your heart thumps in your throat. Andrew sighs. He looks tired, you think. You can’t imagine how much work it takes to manage Shawn’s success and all the wild layers that come along with it. “You’ve been identified on Twitter. You and Ava both, actually. Started sometime last night, confirmed just a little while ago.” You do drop the (thankfully empty) kit this time. Andrew steps further into the room as you manage to sink into the only chair without falling. “Do we–” You can feel a knot pressing on the question, but you force it out. “Do we know who...” Did she tell? “No,” Andrew admits, like it annoys him. “Not yet, anyway.” You’re glad you managed to sit down; the room feels like it’s tilting. “I suppose two years was longer than anyone expected us to be able to pull this off,” he continues. You can’t tell exactly by Andrew’s tone whether he’s upset, nor can you work out how you feel. Should you be scared? Relieved? “Ava was busy with meet and greets, but I wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you were prepared.” Prepared? Prepared for what? Legions of girls (and boys) to eviscerate you? “Um,” you start, and then stop. You have no idea what to say. “Okay.” Shawn’s manager gives you a look, as though he can’t decide if he should be satisfied with this non-reaction. “We can talk about it more later,” he says. “Let’s just get through tonight.” Andrew’s almost out the door before you call, “Wait.” He turns, and you nearly lose your nerve. You remember what Iris told you, what she reminded you that you’re capable of. Be brave. “I feel like I should apologize. And possibly thank you.” For the first time, you see a crack in Andrew’s infallible professional veneer; his expression crosses somewhere between confusion and laughter. You press on. “I know it hasn’t been easy, dragging me along all this time and keeping me a secret. I understand why it had to be done, to protect Shawn’s image. I’m sorry that you had to deal with so much. I’m sorry if–” You swallow. You can’t be sorry for having feelings, really. Nor would you be. “I’m sorry if our...our relationship caused you stress or difficulty.” “Ellie…” Is that remorse in his eyes? Is it even real? Does it matter? You muster a weak smile. “This has been the most amazing two years of my life. And I owe it to you, more than anyone. I just wanted to thank you, for this opportunity.” You gesture at the room. “And for allowing me to get to know him.” Andrew looks at you for a long time, long enough that you’re effectively brought back down from nervous confidence to plain old nervousness. “It’s my job,” he says finally, “to look out for Shawn.” Andrew levels you with a gaze that’s probably meant to be neutral, but feels cutting anyway. “What’s done now is done. This is nothing against you personally. I know you care about him, and I know he asked you to come to New York and Kelsey wants you on the rest of the tour, but considering what’s been going on…” Your heart sinks. “You need to think about what’s best for him. And his career.” Andrew leaves you sitting there, reeling. It’s not until your phone buzzes in your pocket that you remember you’re supposed to be getting back, but the buzzing doesn’t stop. Hannah wants to Facetime. Slide to answer. You almost drop your phone. But you don’t accept the call. * Shawn’s been anxious about the London shows since the dates were announced practically a year ago. The crowds here, he’s told you, are some of the best in the world. All he wants to do is to live up to their expectations. It’s why you push everything else out of your mind and make sure to take your spot, the same place you ended the Manchester show, so that you’re one of the last people to look into Shawn’s eyes before he hops over the last step onto the stage. You can’t even shout over the noise. You wish you could touch him but you don’t dare. You can do this. I believe in you. It’s going to be amazing. He’s a little nervous, still. But as Shawn turns away, you wouldn’t know it from the way he bounds up, guitar slung over his shoulder, to truly the most deafening screams you’ve heard yet on tour. After TNHMB and halfway into Lost in Japan, you know he’s alright. You can hear it in his voice. You should be with Mike on the floor; you can see Kelsey onstage, capturing, as she likes to, the first few moments of every show from as close as possible. But you only make it halfway up the catwalk, caged in on all sides by the press of bodies and the screaming and the waving hands. Your heart starts to race, your breath not quite coming as slowly as it should. Flashes of the crowd outside the hotel overtake you. You have to tighten your grip on your camera lest you drop it; the strap around your neck feels weightless, invisible. I can’t be in here. You can see Mike in a distance that’s only a few feet but feels like eons, staring at you. Your vision is blurring. Just don’t run. You manage a somewhat normal pace, spinning on your heel back towards mainstage. The walkie clipped to your hip crackles almost incoherent noise under the arena thrum. “–llie...catch her–” You brush past both Cam and Paul, past ground crew, weaving half-hazardly and miraculously not bumping into anyone, laying your shaking hands on the very back door just as someone calls your name. “Ellie!” Bursting into the static, mostly silent light of the backstage hall is so shocking you almost fall. “Hey.” Sam’s voice is alarmed. “Are you okay?” All you can do is shake your head. Sam wraps his hand around your arm. “C’mon,” he says, and leads you down the hall. You wonder where he’s taking you, until the guitar hand is shoving a door a open with his hip. Shawn’s cologne still lingers. Sam pries your camera from your hands. He is the only person besides the band that Shawn allows to handle his instruments. You should know him better, you think. From here, the din has faded to an almost faint white noise. “Just try to breathe,” he says, pushing you down gently onto the sofa. Pablo sits in his omnipresent place in the corner of the room. You point. “Can you–” you croak, gasping. Sam doesn’t ask questions. Soon enough lavender fills the air and you force as deep an inhale as you can manage, doubled over your knees and staring at the floor in an effort to get the room to stop falling in and out of focus. The dark, double knotted laces of his shoes appear in your field of vision. “Do you need a distraction?” Sam asks. You nod mutely. “Can you...can you name all the tour stops we’ve been on so far? In order?” “Lisbon,” you start, your chest heaving. “Barcelona. Madrid. Berlin. Brussels.” “Good,” he encourages. “Keep going.” You rattle them off. You stumble between Amsterdam and Stockholm. “And Oslo.” “You got it. Next?” “Montpellier. Paris. Dublin. Leeds. Birmingham. Manchester.” You don’t mean to wince, but it happens anyway. Your heart is still in your throat, but at least it’s slower now. “And where are we tonight?” “London.” You ease yourself upright and accept the bottle of water he offers you. “Thanks.” “Maybe you should sit this one out,” Sam suggests. You shake your head. “He’s been talking about these shows forever. I can’t miss it.” The guitar hand – he can’t be that much older than you, really, so how is it that you’re falling apart? – considers you for a moment. You meet his gaze. You didn’t cower with Andrew; you refuse to back down now. Sam glances at his watch. “At least hang here for a few songs. I’ll come get you before Bad Reputation.” You blink. Sam grins now, a little teasing. “You tell him you don’t have favourites, but we all know that’s a lie.” If you weren’t coming down off a panic attack, you would blush. “Okay,” you relent. “Thank you.” “You’re shaking,” he points out, and drags Shawn’s black Givenchy hoodie off the chair he’d left in on. Sam rolls his eyes at your hesitation. “It’s just me, Ellie. Come on. What am I gonna do, rat you out?” You wince again. His eyes are gentle now; what is it about your feelings for Shawn that makes you feel so scared? “You’re safe, alright?” He’s right. You know it, despite your trembling hands. You drag the sweater over your head, shivering in adjustment to the soft warmth of it, inhaling the even more concentrated smell of Shawn, beneath the cologne and the deodorant. You’re safe. “I’ll be back in a bit.” Getting up from the coffee table, Sam points at the bottle in your hand. “Drink all of that.” “Sam–” He stops. You hate how frail your voice sounds. “Please don’t tell. I’m okay. I don’t want anyone to worry.” He doesn’t pity you, thank god, but even his empathy feels like more than you can bear. “Mike called over the comm. I was just only person who managed to catch you.” Apparently you can still blush after all. “Oh.” Sam smiles. He, like Ben, is objectively very handsome. You would have thought in another life, but you can’t imagine one with Sam that doesn’t also involve Shawn. You’re stuck in his orbit; there would be no contest. “Just the crew channel,” he says, a reminder. “So you might be good, at least for now.” It’s a relief; the thought of Shawn being even momentarily distracted from the show is all Andrew needs to prove his – unspoken, yet crystal clear – point. Your stomach twists unpleasantly. Sam leaves you alone with Pablo and engulfed in Shawn’s hoodie, both of which give you comfort. The most fragile part of you wants to stay here. But Shawn’s out there. You finish the bottle of water, and turn off Pablo. Maybe fifteen minutes later, when Sam returns, you’re already on your feet. “Let’s go,” he says, holding his hand out for a fist bump. You hug him instead. * Shawn strums for what seems like a long time on B stage; Youth, Perfectly Wrong, and Life of the Party are all over and the crowd waits with bated breath to see which acoustic track they’ll receive tonight. “Before anyone accuses me of stealing,” he says, “Taylor told me to do this.” Laughter echoes. “She says that unique experiences have a singular power, and that every person who listens to our music has unique lives. Even though you probably all know the setlist and which guitars I use when, every crowd I’ve played on this tour has been different.” Shawn looks out at the arena, his smile brilliant. “And you, London, will always be one of the most incredible I’ve ever played for.” It’s a wonder that he hasn’t gone deaf yet. “So I wanted to give you something special. This song means a lot to me, and I’ve always been so floored when I get to learn what my music means to you. I’m truly humbled to be a part of your lives and to be there for you in tough times. Morgan, thank you so much for sharing your story with me. This is Hold On.” “No fucking way.” The girl closest to you clutches at her companion, true wonderment in her eyes. “He never does this live!” The sound of thousands of voices harmonizing with Shawn will never fail to give you goosebumps. You wish you knew where Morgan was in the room, but the feeling only heightens when you arrive at the last pre-chorus. And so I said Mo, stay with me Everything will be alright The O2 roars. The pause in the song stretches, as if he too is searching for the girl with the incredibly perfect handwriting. You blink a rush of tears from your eyes. “Morgan, what the fuck!” You whip your head around. It seems inconceivable; the O2 seats twenty thousand, and hundreds more are crammed onto the floor. But there she is, pressed against the barrier a third of the way down the catwalk. You have no idea how you missed her. Her stillness in all the chaos around her is striking. I don't know what You’re going through But there’s so much life Ahead of you So you just gotta hold on Kelsey has always let you have B stage; Shawn enjoys looking right into your lens at least once or twice a night, so pointing at Morgan from the bottom of the stairs isn’t quite as hard as you’ve have thought. He turns his head. All we can do is hold on, yeah Yeah, you just gotta hold on Just hold on for me Fans have fully embraced the tour aesthetic and taken to giving Shawn flowers as he returns to mainstage (your Instagram is now peppered with flatlays of his shirt and single stems from various tour stops), and tonight he accepts a bright yellow tulip from a shaking girl. You walk backwards carefully, stopping in front of Morgan so all you have to do is nod towards her when Shawn makes a beeline in your direction, Cam hot on his heels. The composure you can see Morgan’s been trying to hang onto wavers when he reaches over the barrier to pull her into a hug, lingering a lot longer than he’s meant to. You squeeze down on your shutter as tightly as you can tell Shawn’s holding her. You can’t hear over people screaming his name when he pulls back, but you can see the words on his lips as Shawn presents Morgan with the tulip and takes both of her hands in his. Thank you so much. He says something else, leaning close to her. She nods, her eyes wet and overbright. Unlike a lot of other fans he’s interacted with on the catwalk, she doesn’t reach for him when he peels away. Shawn has to take the rest of the stretch at a run, grabbing at hands and reaching for high fives even as he and Cam blow past you. Morgan has dissolved in tears into the girl next to her. You need to follow Shawn before you do the same. “Ready to dance, London?” he asks, sounding a little out of breath, and the band launches into Queen. You think you’re imagining a chorus of voices calling your name, but it keeps happening. “Ellie! Ellie!” You turn. Three young girls wave frantically from the floor. Stunned, your arm waves back without explicit instruction; they burst into screams, grabbing at each other in excitement. The world doesn’t end. No one is shooting you daggers with their eyes. This is fine, you think. I can do this. * “I can’t do this.” “What can’t you do?” Ava asks, leaning over. You lift your phone to show her the two hundred follow requests on your Instagram that have appeared since you decided to turn your phone off yesterday. Hannah won’t stop calling. It’s cowardly, possibly, but you’ve also realized that you have no idea what you’d say to her that isn’t an accusation, or anything you’re prepared to hear, especially if it’s a confirmation of her betrayal. “Holy shit.” “Hey,” you complain. “What happened to ‘language’?” Your sister just shakes her head. “I’m just surprised it took them till tonight to find you.” “That’s really helpful, thanks.” Ava shrugs patiently. There isn’t much to be done, really. Your account is still private, and no one can force you to delete it. You marvel internally at the perseverance of whoever initially discovered your account; you don’t use hashtags on your photos, and as Shawn pointed out to you last year, there are dozens upon dozens of ‘Ellie Sinclair’s on the app. And of course, you’ve never appeared on Shawn’s account (upon pain of death, as Charlie dramatically puts it). You sigh. “Well that was fun while it lasted, I guess.” Ava offers you a sympathetic look. While you haven’t left the hotel since returning from night one besides a trip to EAT with Charlie, Paul’s sudden desire for fresh air hadn’t escaped your notice. Thankfully, it was a lot easier to ignore people shouting at you when you were shielded by two hundred pounds of hulking, stoic muscle. Shawn didn’t go down to meet the crowd today either; Andrew insists on voice rest even more when you do multiple shows in the same city. But the second London show is over. Shawn had treated the entire band and crew to drinks in the hotel, and now you’re staring at your suitcase trying to figure out this nagging feeling that you’re forgetting something. “Don’t panic,” Ava says, toothbrush in her mouth. “We don’t fly out till tomorrow afternoon.” You don’t reply, too wrapped up in your thoughts. “What’s up with you? I would’ve thought you would be out celebrating with everyone. First leg of the tour is over! You get five days off. In a row.” You haven’t told her – or anyone, for that matter – about your conversation with Andrew. And besides a few questioning concerned glances, no one has brought up you fleeing the arena to have a small panic attack in Shawn’s dressing room. You don’t know how long you can keep up the charade. “Just tired.” Though he’s respected the rules you’re still technically bound to (even the thought of hiding it now is laughable), Shawn definitely knows something’s up. You’d claimed exhaustion last night easily enough, but you can’t avoid him now. Not when everyone else conspicuously called it a night early, leaving you to follow your sister, who waved cheerily at Shawn as you left the hotel bar twenty minutes ago. There is no grand and drawn out goodbye; you’re meant to be getting on the same flight tomorrow. Your stomach twists when you think about it for too long. A text chime surprises you out of your reverie. Shawn: Hey El it’s me. You left a sweater downstairs. You: Oh thanks! I almost forgot you had my number. Are you on your way up? Shawn: Haha you gave it to me the night IMB came out, remember? I figured you didn’t want to deal with Instagram. I’ll be at your door in ten seconds. You stare. You forgot, sometimes, how in tune he is with any social media involving himself or his fans. It’s disarming, too, to know that he’s probably seen what you have, that your handle has been found. That the accusations are already flying. That so many people you will never meet seem to hate you already. (You hadn’t had any illusions about being immune to online vitriol, but it’s hard to realize you’re not as strong as you want to be.) Perfectly on cue, there’s a knock at the door. “Hey you,” he says with a smile. Despite the depth of your anxiety, Shawn will never fail to settle something in you. “Hi.” You can’t physically cling to a feeling, but you can lean into his space. Even without real touch, you’re safe. You have to keep reminding yourself. His smile is a little more crooked than usual. “Are you drunk?” you ask. Shawn shakes his head. “I wish. But I hate flying hungover, so I stopped after a few.” “How responsible of you.” He just chuckles and holds up one of your favourite green hoodies. You thank him and launch it in the general direction of your bed. You miss, of course. Ava gives you a curt thumbs down. Shawn’s smile widens. “Wanna hang out? I’m so excited to sleep in tomorrow.” God, he’s adorable. It’s so curious, how he can be the eye of your anxious hurricane one minute and the bright, warm sun that banishes your doubt in the next. “Yeah.” Shawn leans further into the room to flash a grin at Ava. “Okay if I steal your sister for a bit?” She rolls her eyes at him from her bed. “You guys are seriously making me feel like one of those really old rich grandmothers who needs to approve everyone her grandchildren dates. Stop.” “Does that make me Nick Young?” you ask, delighted. “Amazing.” “Who?” Shawn looks from you to your sister as you both dissolve into laughter. “I’ll explain later,” you assure him, patting him gently on the chest. He catches your fingers in his, holding them firmly. It’s the first proper contact you’ve had since the night before last and you both know it. You look away first; Shawn’s gaze heats your cheek as you look back at your sister. “Night. Love you.” “Hey Shawn,” Ava calls. He stops after having pulled your hand from his chest, holding it so he can lead you out of the room. “Congratulations. I know we said it already, but it bears repeating. This leg was amazing.” The flush of his ears will never cease to make you smile. “I’m really proud of you.” He blinks, and then twice more, his impossibly (annoyingly) long eyelashes brushing the swells of his cheeks like the beat of graceful butterfly wings. Shawn looks, just for a moment, overcome. You squeeze his hand instinctively. “Thanks Av,” he says, something gravely in his voice. Her smile is fond. “Night, kiddo.” Shawn glances down as if to double check you’re still there. You tighten your grip on his hand and together you step out into the hallway, making the short journey down the hall to his room in relative silence. “TV?” he offers as you step out of shoes. “A movie?” “Whatever’s fine.” You’re sure you won’t be able to focus on it anyway. E4 is playing a Brooklyn Nine-Nine marathon. You’re both caught up but it’s always an easy rewatch. By some unspoken agreement you sit pressed together in the centre of the bed, your head tucked against his neck and Shawn’s arm wrapped around your shoulder. It’s terrifying to remember that no one will knock on the door tonight, and that you have nowhere to be in the morning. Shawn gives you till the end of the latest Halloween Heist before he says, “Okay?” His gaze is as soft as his question, like you could lie right to his face and he’d let you. “You seem...” You brace yourself. “Far away.” You can’t lie, but you can’t quite say your manager wants us to – to what? Break up? Can you break up with someone you were never really with in the first place? “I think so,” you manage at last. “These past few days were just…” It’s your turn to pause. “A lot.” Shawn keeps your eyes for several moments before he sighs a little. “I don’t think I made it any easier for you.” Well that’s not what I was expecting. You shift up so you can look at him properly. “What do you mean?” Shame isn’t something you’ve ever seen cross his face. “The Q and A. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I feel like I made it so much worse. And the crowd–” “Stop.” You reach for his cheek so he has to look at you. “Stop apologizing to me, okay? None of that was your fault.” Shawn’s jaw sets beneath your hand, like steel. “It’s not my fans that made you so anxious that you had to leave the show the other night? That grabbed you in public?” You try to cover your flinch. But your fingers slip and land on the comforter. I can’t believe he saw. “You can’t blame them for me having a panic attack,” you retort. You realize your mistake too late when his expression goes from tense to wildly concerned. But you don’t let him interject. “And what was I going to do? Stroll down to your meet and greet and say, hey Shawn, this girl you’re taking a photo with grabbed me in broad daylight and demanded I produce you like a freaking magician? And wasted her Q and A question trying to be a nosy brat? What would you have done?” You didn’t mean to start almost yelling at him. Shawn looks, more than anything, a bit shocked. You want to reel back, abashed, but he catches you before you can go too far, his hand covering yours. “I’m sorry,” you blurt, unable to look at him. “That was so unfair of me.” “I mean…” His fingers twist your hair back. The understanding you force yourself to recognize just piles on your contrition. “I don’t think so. It probably didn’t help that I literally haven’t been allowed to talk for like three days.” Shawn’s lips quirk like he’s trying not to smile. It makes you want to lean forward and kiss him, which you know, wouldn’t probably be productive to this conversation. You’re both capable of being serious adults. You still want to. “I can’t believe that girl,” you say instead. “Did she think you were gonna go, yeah her name’s Ellie and we kissed before breakfast this morning?” Shawn breathes a laugh. Tension unfurls a little in your stomach, though not enough that you can feel genuinely relaxed. “Okay,” he says, sliding his fingers up your wrist. “So maybe I couldn’t have done anything. But I still wish you’d have told me about it. Even if I couldn’t say anything.” His eyes have gone tender again. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with all this–” Shawn lifts his phone, and then gestures out to London on the other side of his window. “by yourself.” Andrew’s words ring in your ears. You need to think about what’s best for him. “I didn’t want to distract you,” you admit cautiously. His eyebrows draw together. “These dates were so important to you and I...” You trail off, but Shawn seems resolute. “Tell me.” You cringe even as you say, “I feel like you have bigger things to worry about than some people calling me a clout chaser online.” He frowns. “You’re important.” Shawn ducks his head, drawing you in by the elbows. “You’re important to me. God El, you have no idea how badly I wanted to tell that girl to get the fuck out of the arena and tear her ticket in half.” You stifle a snort, shaking your head a little even as he presses his forehead against yours. “That’s a bit dramatic. And you would never. But thank you.” “Would’ve gotten the point across,” he replies, almost a grumble. Shawn sneaks a hand beneath your top and traces some indistinguishable shape against the bare skin of your hip. Before you can react beyond a shiver he shifts, twisting to open his body to yours and dragging you into him. Your nose bumps into the V between his collarbones as Shawn wraps himself entirely around you. “I’ll stop apologizing,” he says, “But I’m here now, okay?” You swallow a sob, breathing through it. But you still feel small when you say, “Kay.” Shawn tightens his grip and you feel your body go nearly boneless against him. You hook a finger over St. Christopher, laying against his t-shirt, and run the bend of your joint back and forth across the chain. For a few minutes you just sit like that, the tv still playing softly. “I can still hear you thinking,” he murmurs. In your pause, Shawn continues. “You don’t have to tell me. But I want you to know that you can.” You have to take a deep breath before you can force the question out. “Are you sure it’s okay that I come to New York?” “Yeah,” he replies. “Of course. We’re not doing promo till like, Wednesday so we have a few days to hang out.” Shawn leans back and glances down at you, seeming unsure for the first time. “I was thinking of sitting down with Andrew and telling him, you know, officially. Even though I’m pretty sure he already knows about us.” Your stomach lurches. “I figure he’d appreciate the gesture. I’m sure he’d want to like, strategize or something.” Shawn meets your eye carefully. “Are you okay with that?” You know you should tell him. But the last thing you want to do is ruin this. You can’t speak, so you nod. His shoulders relax. “So I have a question,” he continues. “Isn’t clout like, when you have a lot of power?” You nod. You watch Shawn turn this over in his head. “I don’t think I get it. Chasing clout? Do they think you want popularity or something?” You shrug. “I guess? I mean the last girl you were even sort of tied to is now engaged to Justin Bieber, so.” His face pinches until he sees your vaguely teasing smile. “Are you just using me El?” Shawn asks. You shrug again, enjoying the joke. “I can see it,” he says. You would never call Shawn cocky or pompous, but he knows how to pretend. His lips curl. “I’m a catch. You’re lucky.” “Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,” you gasp and he laughs, catching your wrist before you can whack at him. His (annoying, attractive) musician’s reflexes catch your other arm too. You wonder if he can feel your pulse thrumming beneath his palm. Shawn’s eyebrows lift, like a challenge. You attempt to wriggle away, but he holds fast – not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that you’re stuck. You’re determined, suddenly. You’re not sure quite how you manage, but you bear all your weight forward so he has no choice but to lean down onto the bed. Your knees land on either side of Shawn’s waist and he stares up. You’re not sitting on him, exactly, but you’re hyper aware of the place where your hips would probably slot together. And even though he’s technically still holding you by the wrists, bracing you so you don’t fall, that smug little grin is gone. A flash of desire zips up your spine. “I should go,” you blurt. His grip on you tightens, just for a second. “Stay.” You can see that vulnerable edge, beneath the dark caramel. It occurs to you, with a jolt of feeling even deeper than wanting, that Shawn has possibly missed you these past few days as much as you’ve missed him. “Please stay.” “I should change,” you protest weakly. “And brush my teeth.” “You can borrow a shirt, if you want,” he replies without missing a beat. Shawn’s hand is ridiculously warm on your thigh. “And I have an emergency toothbrush in my backpack.” “You keep an emergency toothbrush in you backpack?” you ask, partly to distract yourself from his fingers moving up and down your leg. Shawn looks absurdly pleased to be pinned beneath you, which isn’t helping. “I keep two in there, actually. Just in case.” You roll your eyes. “What do you say El?” His smile is adorably small, like he’s trying to contain the boyish eagerness you can see crinkling around his eyes. “Want to make out and fall asleep watching tv with me? Want to call up room service in the morning and just laze around?” You’ve never wanted anything so badly in your life. You lean down, and Shawn releases you. You brace one hand next to his head to anchor yourself, and then rake the other through his curls. He leans into your touch even as you trace his cheekbone, his jaw, over his ear. You kiss him and you can feel him craning his neck when you pull back, still chasing you. “Yes,” you murmur. “I say yes.” (part thirteen)

#shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes #wsitd #IT'S HERE IT'S HERE IT'S HERE #I WANNA CRY THIS PART WAS SO MUCH WORK

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chantelle-x0x · 6 years

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Unicorns Are Real - Daddy!Loki x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is my first ever try at writing Loki. I’m so sorry if this is ooc, but I just had to do this fluffy daddy!Loki fic because I couldn’t get this idea out of my head! So yeah, thanks for reading it x

Permanent tag list: @glorious-fandoms, @rousetta, @fuckyourgondola

Disclaimer: **All characters besides Reader, belongs to Marvel (MCU)**

Word count: 1,598 (what started as a drabble ended in a long ass fic)

Pairing: Daddy!Loki x fem.reader

Rating: G

Warnings: Mentions of being bullied but it’s basically pure Loki fluff

Summery: Your daughter Erika is getting bullied because of her mythical beliefs. Even as an adult though, you show those girls what they deserve in the nicest way possible.

*Gif not mine*

After meeting Loki (and the Avengers), you decided you wouldn’t let any mythical creatures be mythical in your head anymore, I mean, if you were married to a man who could become different people and creatures, what else could be there? So, when you and Loki welcomed a beautiful daughter into the world, you decided you’d bring her up believing in everything!

She took after her father with the black locks, although she had your eye colour. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on, and when she was born, that was the best day of you and Loki’s life. He wasn’t always predictable, but you knew that after he had a child, he’d become more…responsible. He’s just very protective of his angel. You chose to name her Erika since the meaning of her name was just perfect; ruling forever.

It was heartwarming when Erika started kindergarten, because she was just so happy and excited, which would make you happy and excited. You and Loki were the only parents that day with not a single tear in your eyes. In fact, all three of you hugged and then your daughter practically kicked you both out the door. You both laughed and all was well and good, until one day.

Loki had been away for a couple of days so you were left to look after Erika alone. You got her ready for school in the morning and had breakfast made, but you could see that something was different. She just wasn’t as bubbly as she normally was.

‘What’s wrong love?’ You ask looking at your daughter as you were getting her bag packed. She had the same habit as you when she was nervous; twisting her fingers together behind her back.

‘Nothing.’ She replied not meeting your eyes. You crouched down so you were about her height.

‘You’re my daughter Erika. I can see right through you when you’re lying.’ You said with a slight smile.

‘It’s just that, some girls aren’t being very nice to me. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even bother me.’ She finished with a soft smile. Her smile gave you warmth for two reasons, and one of them was because it reminded you of your husband.

‘What are they saying?’ You inquired rating an eyebrow.

‘Nothing important.’

‘Erika.’

‘Fine! They just aren’t being very nice okay? They are just being very rude. But it’s okay. I’m a strong girl! I take after daddy!’ She says with a genuine, huge smile.

‘That you do.’ That voice sent shivers down your spine (in a good way). Loki picked up his daughter and spun her around.

‘Daddy!’ She giggled.

‘I’m gonna wait in the car sweetie. 5 minutes.’ You said, kissing your husband and whispering something in his ear.

‘So, what’s been happening since I’ve been gone?’ Loki asked your daughter. That was the last thing you heard before closing the front door.

While you were in the car, you called work and told Tony you’d rather work from home today. You didn’t have powers, so you didn’t work with the Avengers as such. You did some of the paperwork after missions. Tony gave you that job when you told him that you lost your job because of association with the Avengers.

Erika hoped into the backseat of the car and buckled herself in. ‘Daddy said after school I can get ice-cream with him!’ She said excitedly.

‘Let me guess, rainbow?’ You inquire as you start to drive. Rainbow was always Erika’s first choice because of her favourite creature; the unicorn!

‘Not this time. I’ll go for vanilla.’ You looked at your daughter confused through the rear-view mirror.

‘Why the sudden change in flavour?’ You ask sweetly.

‘Because rainbow ice-cream is like a unicorn, fake. Rainbow ice-cream is just vanilla with food colouring.’ Erika could be really stubborn, but it broke your heart that your daughter, who was almost 5, didn’t believe in her favourite thing ever anymore.

‘Who told you that? Unicorns are real sweetie.’ You said trying to persuade her.

‘The girls at school.’ It suddenly dawned on you as to why she was getting bullied.

‘Sweetheart, are you getting bullied because you believe in unicorns and fairies and everything else that mummy believes in?’ The three year old nodded her head looking at the ground. ‘You know they are real though. You shouldn’t let those girls get inside your head. They are just envious of you. You have your real friends. Worry about them not about the mean girls.’ You said smiling at her. You pulled up at her school and got out of the car and opened there door, unbuckling your daughter.

‘Okay. But I still don’t believe in unicorns anymore.’ Erika said kissing your cheek before racing off to join her friends.

Unicorns were her favourite thing. With her fifth birthday coming up, she asked for a rainbow/unicorn themed party. You wanted to both make her happy with that wish, but also see Loki get out of the dark clothes for a while. So, you went home slightly unhappy.

You unlocked the door and slumped into the couch, throwing your bag down with you. Loki came to sit next to you. ‘What is wrong my dear?’ He asked a little concerned.

‘Some girls are being mean to Erika and now she doesn’t believe in unicorns anymore. You don’t know how heartbreaking that is to hear since, y’know, I’ve tried so hard to keep her believing even if no-one else does.’ Loki always loved how you cared about everyone knowing their worth, and with Erika being in school, peer-pressure was a big thing.

‘I know love, but maybe she has just grown out of that phase.’

‘I never did. I mean, I still believe. If people like you and Thor can exist, why can’t “mythical” creatures?’ You had a point, and Loki hated seeing you upset.

‘First, I’m going to deal with those girls, then we can come up with a plan. Now if you’ll excuse me,’

‘Loki, wait. I have a great idea for adult revenge.’ You smirked at your husband and told him your plan.

—

Erika’s birthday had already been organised as a rainbow/unicorn party, so you had everything set up. She invited her friends and even the kids that were mean to her.

As the party started to wind down, you knew the parents would come and collect their kids soon enough, so you wanted to unleash your biggest surprise yet, but you also wanted to wait. That was until you heard what one of the girls was saying to your most precious daughter.

‘At least now we all know why you believe in this rubbish, your dad is never around so you fill that gap with fake stuff.’ You heard your daughter sniffle and realised that no matter how grown up you actually were, some thing you had to do. You went and got Loki from your room, stifling your own giggle.

‘Okay, so Erika, I have one more surprise for you. Daddy and I both thought we would be able to get this for you, of course not permanently. Uncle Thor went to Asgard and brought this back for you.’ You smiled as a beautiful unicorn walked into your living room. The girls gasped, Erika’s real friends were thrilled and the other girls stood back in awe but had a very bitter look on their faces. You laughed under your breath. No matter how old you ever got, you wouldn’t ever stop trying to prove your point and this point would be the most important one ever; your daughter is the best little girl in the world and you would do everything in your power to make sure everyone knew that.

After the party ended and Erika was tucked into bed, Loki turned back into human form and changed into some comfy night clothes. You got into bed, your husband next to you. ‘Thank you for being a unicorn for us today. It really means a lot to me.’ You mumbled into his chest. Loki responded with a soft kiss to your forehead.

‘Anything for you my love. And anything to make my daughter feel even more special.’ You smiled and kissed him softly on the lips before you both heard the patter of small feet on your floor. Erika tugged the covers of your bed and smiled at you as you turned over to face her.

‘Yes?’ You asked without your smile faltering.

‘Thank you for everything today! You guys are the bestest parents anyone could ever ever ever ask for!’ She said almost bouncing. You chuckled as she climbed into the bed with you.

‘Can’t sleep?’ Loki asked pulling her hair back from her face.

‘I saw a unicorn today daddy! I really real one! I won’t ever sleep again! I’m too excited!’ You laughed kissing Erika on the head and snuggling close to her.

‘I love you sweetheart, but I’m tired, so you’re gonna have to sleep too. But I’m sure you’ll dream of unicorns.’ You said yawning and falling asleep quickly. Erika followed your actions and fell asleep too. Loki looked at the two of you and wondered how he got so lucky. He tried to ruin the place you now live in, but you saw the good in him even, especially when no-one else, including himself did. He swore he would do whatever he could for the rest of his life protecting you and his daughter.

If you’d like to be part of my tag list, let me know!

Constructive criticism and general feedback would be awesome as well! Thanks for reading x

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raaven-nerd · 5 years

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the epic mega tag of tags

I’ve been inactive for an eternity so I got tagged in a bunch of things by a WHOLE BUNCH OF PEOPLE (THANK YOU ALL FOR TAGGING ME I LOVE YOU ALL <3)

So i decided to combine all these tags into ONE MEGA TAG!!! I’m sorry if I don’t have every single tag that people have tagged me in, because I was kinda... inactive lol

I honestly have no idea how many questions are in here, but I’m really excited to answer all these questions. Subtle hint for you guys to ask me questions lmao!! My ask box is always open ;)

//INTRO//

Time: 9:00AM (i’m on summer break, i’m not ditching school rn lol)

Name: Michelle

Nickname: Mich (pronounced mish,,) and Michy (fun fact: all my friends spell this differently but the correct spelling is michy!! At least that’s how i spell my nickname lmao)

Gender: Female

Nationality: Australian

Star Sign: Cancer

Height: like 157cm LMAO i’m really short

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw (hence my branding lmao)

Languages Spoken: English, Cantonese (but badly), Japanese (but only because i learn it at school)

Dream job: GOOD QUESTION LMAO umm something medical?? But like if i was remotely talented, doing something creative would be really cool.

How many pets do you have: 1, I have a pet dog named Pepper

What am I wearing: A T-shirt from last year’s school musical that’s way too big for me and black shorts (and by that i don’t mean a T-shirt that was like part of my costume,, i mean like a merch kinda t-shirt?? but not really merch bc i was in the musical)

Instruments/sports played: I don’t play any instruments ,, well i play ukulele badly lmao, and i play soccer and volleyball for grade sport :)

//ABOUT THE BLOG//

When did you make this account? Like,, 2 years ago?? YIKES

Why did you join studyblr? Honestly i don’t remember why,, probably bc i wanted to get better at studying and get more motivated

How many followers do you have? Surprisingly around 4800

Why I chose my url: because i’m a nerd,, and my hogwarts house is ravenclaw

//BELOW THE CUT//

Things about my personal life :000 (get that juicy goss!! lol not really tho my life is pre uneventful)

Study tips and my study routine I guess? Just about how i study lol

Music/Book/Film/TV faves and other related thingos (aka how cultured am i?? again not really tho i’m just trying to make this sound interesting lmao)

And some more just RANDOM things lmao (like some of these things get really random lol)

//PERSONAL//

What are three basic facts about you? Okay so whenever a teacher asks me to introduce myself at the start of the school year, my default interesting fact is “I have a dog” and every single year the teachers are super amazed that i have a pet dog and it’s absolutely hilarious bc everyone else is like “I’m not sharing any personal information with you guys”, and the teacher ends up interrogating me about my pet dog.

That’s not a basic fact lol um.. My birthday is on the 15th of July, I’m the youngest of 3 siblings and I graduate in 2020 :))

What was the best part of your day today? Ngl this is actually a really hard question for me to answer because I am NOT in a good mental state right now… but probably watching Joe Sugg’s new vlog. That was a good way to spend a study break. OR REPLYING TO THAT ANON MESSAGE OMG everyone sending me messages saying that they’re glad to see me back just wow ;; i can’t believe people even noticed i was gone it’s just ahhughsgs thank you all so much <33

Relationship status: um… single… yeah let’s just leave it at that

who is the first person you go to in a crisis, when you’ve had a hard day, or when you need to vent? Well… my best friend would be the first person i go to.. Except we’re on holidays right now and they have the worst reply game (bc they’re kinda not allowed to talk to me,,, it’s complicated lmao)

what is your love language? (if you don’t know it, there are plenty of love language quizzes on Google! I definitely encourage you to look it up and find it out for your benefit!) :ooo I did a quiz for this ages ago BUT I GOTTA DO IT AGAIN bc i forgot LOL

OKAY i did it! I used 5lovelanguages.com so yeah.. Just in case anyone was wondering? But I guess my love language is quality time/words of affirmation and from highest to lowest it’s quality time (9), words of affirmation (8), physical touch (6), acts of service (4) and receiving gifts (3)

what are the little things in your life that make you happy? Lmao all my friends bc we’re all SHORT AF.. but seriously,, just really small things can make me so happy, just being able to spend time with my friends makes me really happy?? Like we can just sit in (comfortable) silence, but i’ll be so content to just be there with my friends.. Quality time with friends?? thanks love language Does that count idk how to answer this

What is your favourite thing about yourself? Um physical thing?? Probably my hair tbh.. But like my actual fav thing about myself is um the fact that i’m empathetic, generally pre organised and good w/ time management and i can like teach myself stuff?? or maybe how i could be having the worst day of my life and i’ll still want to spread positivity and good vibes?? Yeah that’s pre cool

what accomplishment in your life are you most proud of? Uhh i got dux of english a few years back? I was in the top 10 of 4 subjects last year so that’s pre cool? But tbh the accomplishment i’m most proud of is probably just going to the school I go rn.. OR surviving last year lol 2018 was a mess

What’s one piece of advice to yourself a year ago? GIRL things are gonna be tough. Like really hecking tough. But it’s not worth it to hold grudges, there’s no point letting fear of what could happen stop you from doing things you want to do and you will survive and you will be stronger because of it. Don’t let what other people say about you get you down, yes, it sucks to hear people speculating about you and your private life, but they have no idea what’s actually going on, and they’re just curious . No one has anything against you. You are loved, and you are worthy, and you are strong. You got this.

what is a skill you wish you had? To play guitar!! Or to be able to sing!!

Name three places you’d like to go to. Richard Rodgers Theatre to watch Hamilton, Music Box Theatre to watch Dear Evan Hansen and the Warner Bros Studio Tour in London. (but also, Japan, London and New York)

//STUDY & ACADEMICS//

What’s your degree/favourite subject? Uhhh it was drama but i dropped that and the 2019 school year hasn’t started yet so.. Who knows?

What motivates you to study? The fact that I gotta do well and get good marks in order to get into a good uni course… and the fact that i just want to keep getting better,, and i don’t want to disappoint people and i also don’t want to do badly bc yikes its real competitive at my school so like lowkey fear of failure

What time do you do your best studying? Tbh it really depends, it’s either the morning not long after i wake up (esp if it’s holidays or the weekend), right after i get home from school, or like late at night if i get a burst of motivation (like sometimes i’ll end up studying from 10:30 to 1am which isn’t sustainable if i have to get up at 7 for school)

Best self care tip for exam season? Don’t spend your time around people who get really stressed out. It only makes you more stressed, and you don’t need that extra worry. Positive vibes only. Stay chill!

Do you listen to music when you study? Yeah. I just listen to music with no lyrics and I’ll use @studyquill’s playlist :DD

Where do you do your best studying? I do pretty much all my studying at home so.. home?? but i have this spot at school that i like to go to in the mornings when no one’s at school yet because it’s super quiet and i can get some quality work done there

What’s your go to thing when studying? Write notes, do practise questions, draw summary mind maps and try to recite my notes from memory

//MUSIC//

put your music library on shuffle, list the first 15 songs

Oh boi this is going to be interesting

How Would You Feel - Ed Sheeran

Part of Me (Bonus Track) - Dear Evan Hansen

If I Could Fly - One Direction

Better Man - 5 Seconds of Summer

If I Could Tell Her - Dear Evan Hansen

Somebody to Love - Queen

Moving Along - 5 Seconds of Summer

Candy Store - Heathers the Musical

Cabinet Battle #2 - Hamilton

Guns for Hands - Twenty One Pilots

Sunrise - In The Heights

The Judge - Twenty One Pilots

Radio Ga Ga - Queen

Defying Gravity - Wicked

Shine a Light - Heathers the Musical

Song stuck in your head: for some reason Acid Rain by Cimorelli just randomly came into my head when I woke up this morning?? so that i guess lol

Last song you played: Alaska by Maggie Rogers

What are you listening to right now? well right now it’s Shine a Light lmao

what are your 5 favourite songs right now? THIS IS HARD OMG okay um Photograph by Ed Sheeran, Shout Out To My Ex by Little Mix, Fire Away by Niall Horan, Walking in the Wind by One Direction and I discovered Light On by Maggie Rogers today so that too!!

What’s your favourite lyric right now? Darling you don't have to hold it/You don't have to be afraid/You can go 'head and unload it/'Cause you know it'll be okay

Fave artist? GOOD QUESTION.. I don’t have an answer lmao but I like 5SOS, Ariana Grande’s new songs, Ed Sheeran and the soundtracks to quite a few musicals but that doesn’t answer the question lol

//FILM, BOOKS & TV//

Last movie you saw: I rewatched Crazy Rich Asians :))

Top three TV shows: lol i don’t watch TV but all times favs include Gravity Falls and The Simpsons annnnndd um… yeah I really don’t watch much TV lol

What are your favourite books? All time fav is Harry Potter, but rn my fav is probably 13 Reasons Why (i know it’s also a TV show so i might check it out!!)

Which ones are you currently reading or want to read? Right now, I’m reading Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver. I’m only a few pages in though.

What’s the most recent book you’ve read? Finding Audrey by Sophie Kinsella

//MISCELLANEOUS//

Describe your favourite colour without saying the name! Soft colour of love

What’s your favourite season? Probably autumn

Favourite animal? My pet dog lmao (i really like dogs but i love so many animals but we’ll just say dogs)

Last thing you googled: ‘fire away lyrics niall horan’ because i wanted to check i had the right words lol

How many blankets you sleep with: 1

If you could be a celebrity, who would you be? Probs Emma Watson or Ariana Grande

What is the last text you sent? Ummm i’ll check AND i quote “I AM,,, somewhat certain that’s correct bc like.. I don’t have any confidence in myself” I was talking to my friend about an assignment lol

Average hours spent sleeping? 7-8 ish??? But during the school term, it could be more like 6-7 but still ain’t that bad???

WOW THAT WAS LONG if u actually stayed throughout all of this and read it all,, (which no one probably did) umm dm me your fav lyrics of the moment? yeah do that lol i wanna meet some new people

#about me #tag games #mine

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shireness-says · 6 years

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Playing the Part ch. 8: Before the Parade Passes By

Summary: As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T. Also on AO3. Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7

A/N: Thanksgiving has come early! For the readers, at least. I definitely don’t know anything about parade set-up, so take this with many grains of salt, please.

Chapter title taken from “Hello, Dolly!”

Just to reiterate, this is a Slow Burn. I know we’re all anxious for Emma and Killian to get together, but Emma’s still hesitant since they work together - and especially since she holds a position of some power over him. Plus, her ex keeps reminding her how men are dicks. Hang in there, guys - there is a plan, and the plan is for 20 chapters (unless I accidentally add more again) with a happy ending. We will get there.

Special thanks to @snidgetsafan, always the best beta ever, as well as to @distant-rose for telling me all about New York bowling alleys so I could add in a tiny reference. You guys are my favorites, don’t tell anyone.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy! Let me know what you think. :)

Henry’s birthday this year falls conveniently three days before Thanksgiving, on a dark Monday when there’s no show to pull Emma away from her kid. Well, that’s not strictly true; she has to go in for a few hours so everyone can rehearse their parade performance, but that should start after he goes to school and wrap up before he gets out. It’s not like they’re doing new choreography or anything, just making sure everything is as polished as possible. Regardless, work won’t be keeping her from her kid on his birthday, and she’s grateful for that.

Henry’s birthday party was yesterday, Sunday - 6 boys and 2 girls at the Lucky Strike for bowling, a perennial hit - but Granny’s hosting a family birthday dinner at the diner with Ruby, Mary Margaret and Elsa. It’s a long-standing tradition, and every year Granny makes all of Henry’s favorite foods and a big, gooey chocolate cake as everyone showers the birthday boy with more love than he can handle. Honestly, Neal can stick his bullshit about “real family dinners” up his ass - Henry’s got the best aunts imaginable and Granny’s been there since he was born. If you ask Emma, that’s all the family the two of them need.

It’s so hard to believe that it’s been eleven years since Henry was born. She still remembers his tiny, wrinkly red face like it was yesterday - this little, precious baby, the first thing that was truly hers. Now he’s half grown, his own person, smart as hell and sweet to boot. He’s growing so fast, she can’t help but think as she watches him practically inhale a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, his requested birthday breakfast, and talking a mile a minute in a recap of his party yesterday. Where has the time gone?

Emma remains in an introspective mood much of the day, thinking back on when her little boy was younger. God, he was so cute - not that he isn’t now, but there’s something about that gap-toothed look that was especially endearing. It keeps her distracted at work, but thankfully, there’s not much that requires her undivided attention. Her cast is just running their choreography for Thursday - the opening number, “In Want of a Wife”, should be a hit, Emma thinks - so she takes the opportunity to re-pencil some of the cues in her script that have gotten smudged over weeks of opening and closing the pages. If she has trouble focusing on that, it’s not such a big deal.

The hours fly by, much to Emma’s surprise, and before she knows it, they’re packing up to leave. Emma just needs to send out a detailed itinerary for Thursday, probably print out a stack for good measure, but then she’s free for the rest of the day and can actually pick her kid up from school for once. That’ll be a nice change of pace. Just as she’s making the final edits to her email, she’s startled by Killian’s sudden appearance.

“Fuck, you scared me,” she mutters, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle from Killian to match his suddenly pink-tinged cheeks and the signature scratching behind his ear.

“My apologies, love,” he smiles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just hoping you might give this to Henry,” he explains further, thrusting a carefully gift-wrapped package in Emma’s direction.

Emma raises an eyebrow in question. It’s sweet of him, and certainly generous, but also a little weird that one of her coworkers is sending gifts home for her kid - even if he and said kid are, admittedly, friends-ish. “Should I be concerned about this?”

“Oh no! I don’t think so, at least. It’s just a notebook. For him to write in? I’ve heard so much about how he likes writing and wants to be a playwright, I just thought this would be a nice place to write all those thoughts down,” he babbles. Emma thinks she can detect a thread of nerves in his voice. “Of course, if you think I’m overstepping, that’s completely fine, it was just an idea, the lad had mentioned that it was his birthday and I just thought — ”

“No, that’s fine,” Emma replies, suddenly resolute despite her earlier confusion. Killian means well, and honestly, that is kind of the perfect gift for Henry. “I’m sure he’ll love it. Thanks.”

“Ah, well, it wasn’t a bother in the least,” he deflects, the pink cheeks making a reappearance in a sudden attack of bashfulness.

“Killian. You got a gift for my son. Let me say thank you. Now, what do you say when someone thanks you?”

“You’re welcome,” he parrots back.

“Well done.” While her words could have been taken in a patronizing manner, Jones still grins at her, seemingly pleased with their banter (despite the fact that it isn’t the first time they’ve had this kind of back and forth - or at least Emma doesn’t think so). “Ok, well, I’ve got to meet the birthday boy at school,” she concludes, jerking a thumb towards the general not-here, “but I’ll make sure he gets your gift and knows it’s from you.”

“Thank you, Swan. And a happy birthday to Henry!”

———

Henry loves the notebook, of course, telling Emma all about all the stories he intends to write in it. She suspects that Killian will receive the same treatment the next time Henry sees him as well.

The days between Monday and Thursday pass faster than Emma ever thought possible, so fast she wonders in passing whether they ever happened at all - though if her notepads are any indication, they certainly did. Thanksgiving dawns bright and clear but cold, pulling Emma out of her bed earlier than she wants. That’s fine, though; she didn’t really sleep much the night before, too busy running through lists in her head of everything that could go right and especially everything that could go wrong. It doesn’t help that she’d had a late night before she climbed into bed either, having trekked from the theater to Macy’s with the stuff they’ll need for the parade. There’s just a chair and a couple of hedges - not to mention the racks of costumes and boxes of wigs carefully supervised by the costume department - but this gives her a chance as well to check out the space set aside for the cast to get ready. Not to mention, Emma would much rather deal with transport the night before than fighting through the madness Thanksgiving morning. It’s going to be enough of a pain getting to Macy’s this morning with all the crowds milling about; there’s no way in hell she would willingly add bulky equipment to that mix.

The good news is that Henry’s so excited about the whole affair that he all but flies out of bed without needing to be nagged like she’d have to on a regular school day. It’s probably a mistake to give him a pack of pop-tarts for breakfast - lord knows he doesn’t need the extra sugar rush on top of his already excessive energy level. But they’re in a rush today, and she doesn’t have time for much else, not even a bowl of cereal. Robin doesn’t have to work today - performing outdoors for tv crews doesn’t leave much need for a lighting technician and designer - but he’s there with Roland anyways in the section set aside for production members if they want it, and he agreed previously to keep an eye on Henry while Emma works. Hopefully he doesn’t come to regret that.

Emma figures she’ll get to Macy’s before anyone else, but Belle’s already inside, practically vibrating with nervous excitement, and Emma spots Ruby helping a few of the chorus members with their wigs. Though Belle’s still in her street clothes, her hair and makeup are already done, leaving Emma to wonder exactly how long the brunette has been here.

“You alright?” she asks, more in amusement than genuine concern. Belle’s a trooper; Emma has full confidence that whatever nerves are playing through Belle’s head right now, she’ll power through like the pro she is. Still, it feels like the thing to ask when you find a key player in your production bouncing on the balls of her feet like an Easter rabbit who showed up for the wrong holiday.

Belle whips around, eyes blown wide with surprise at Emma’s little interruption. Too late, Emma realizes that their Elizabeth must have been lost in her own little world, and was likely given quite a shock. As Emma pulls a contrite face, Belle’s own visage softens into a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Belle assures. “This is mostly excitement, I promise.”

Emma throws her hands up in the universal sign for backing off. “I can understand that. Just wanted to make sure. Walking in you looked at little…”

“On edge?” Belle offers. “There’s a hint of that as well.”

Emma laughs. “Well that’s fine too.”

“It really struck me last night what an institution this is,” Belle elaborates, hastily adding “And I’m thrilled to be a part of it! But it was a little… daunting, remembering that legacy. And we’re going to be part of that, after today,” she concludes, voice echoing with traces of awe.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Emma replies, before making an attempt to lighten the conversation. “You should see Henry outside, he’s ecstatic. It’s been helping my nerves a bit, honestly,” she admits, “seeing how excited he is, his conviction that we’re going to be the stars of the whole thing.”

“He’s a good kid,” Belle smiles back. “You’ve raised him well.”

Even if it’s true, even if it fills her with a glowing pride that’s reserved especially for Henry, Emma never knows how to respond to such a compliment, so she deflects. “Yeah, well, he’s right outside with Robin and Roland and a disgusting amount of bagels if you want to borrow him. Steal a little bit of that confidence for yourself, if you need it.”

Belle laughs, seemingly accepting the words as they were intended - an emotional de-escalator. “I just might have to. At the very least, I should go say hi. Right outside, you said?”

“Yep, to the left near the heaters. He’ll be the one talking a million miles a minute.”

“Should be easy enough to find,” Belle twinkles back, offering a final wave as she heads to presumedly find her coat before setting foot beyond the doors.

From there, it’s a blur of preparations and quieting mini-crises that turn out not to be the end of the world. Honestly, her file box is filled with so many random odds and ends at this point, but it’s days like today, where everyone’s common sense and operational memory is clouded by nerves, that those things pay off. Even if it’s her first time at the parade, this isn’t her first rodeo; she’s learned a few things over the years, and how to prepare for so-called disasters is one of them.

Truthfully, she had expected to be talking Jones down from another breakdown the whole while, but he’s surprisingly cool as a cucumber, acting like none of it affects him in the least. Someone ought to be, at least, because Emma is internally freaking out a little bit - not over the actual mechanics of the performance, but over the knowledge of what a cultural institution they’re about to be a part of. It adds a certain amount of pressure, and even if Emma is confident that they can shoulder it with ease, she still feels the weight on all their shoulders.

Miraculously, the performance actually goes well. In fact, if Emma were to borrow a few of Killian’s fancy words, she might say that they pulled it off with aplomb. “In Want of a Wife” isn’t Emma’s favorite number - she prefers the ballroom scenes with their intricate whirling that shows off the costuming so well - but it’s a great introductory bit, and gives a great peek of the characters the audience will come to love, hate, and everything in between. The cast is in particularly fine form this morning; Emma can see Killian shift into Darcy’s uptight persona the moment the makeshift stage is in sight, and Belle exudes the perfect believable combination of curiosity and exasperation at the scheming of Mrs. Bennet and the Meryton neighborhood as a whole. Yes, there’s a few pitch issues - nothing major or particularly egregious, just the normal effects you’d find in temperatures barely above freezing - but overall, she’s quite pleased with their efforts.

Without cues to call or crew members to direct, Emma’s left without much to do during the performance itself. She’s already seen the show countless times, and will likely do so countless times more, so she instead takes the opportunity to find Henry in the crowd to watch his reactions to the action in front of him. In short, Henry looks enthralled, pointing out things to Roland as the four-year-old bounces with an energy only preschoolers can maintain. Emma longingly thinks in passing that she’d love to hear what Henry is saying, but reassures herself with the knowledge that she’ll likely get the full replay when she meets up with him afterwards.

In the meantime, she’ll turn her mind to the work still to come.

———

Well done, little brother! his phone reads when Killian retrieves his street clothes, accompanied by an array of celebratory emojis. Killian’s heart swells with pride at his brother's words, even if he does slightly regret introducing the old man to emojis. Lord knows he’ll never get a plain normal text message again.

There had been a general awareness, in the middle of the singing and choreography and concentrating on being as impressive as possible while also frowning ferociously, of the spectacle of the whole thing. Killian had been aware that the roaring sound was the crowd, not just the blood rushing through his ears, though he hadn’t focused on it at the time, too concerned with hitting his marks to allow himself to process much else.

Now though, as he goes to exit the department store and is faced with the full force of the crowd, it’s astounding. It seems the citizens of New York - and likely half the country to boot - have turned out in force, forming a mass of people exuding an almost palpable energy of excitement. It stops him in his tracks for a moment, right outside the revolving door with little awareness of the chill biting his ears.

He’s no idea how long he stands there, really, before he’s suddenly startled out of his shocked trance by a shockingly close voice, jaw snapping shut with a clack.

“Hey, Earth to Killian,” Emma grins. “Did you get lost in there?”

“Aye, maybe a little,” Killian admits with a chuckle. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Sorry if I scared you, I’ve been doing that today without meaning it.”

“It’s fine, Swan,” he waves her off. “Did you need something?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she says, shaking her head in a hasty denial. “You just looked stuck there. Stuck and struck, if you want to play with words.”

“Oh, I think we both know how I feel about playing with words,” he winks.

Emma rolls her eyes, but also bumps into his side companionably, so the expression is rather negated. “Anyway,” she continues pointedly, “I thought I’d come see if you wanted to come watch the rest of the parade with me and Henry. I’m sure he’s got plenty of commentary about the performance.” The last bit is hastily added, as if in justification, but Killian doesn’t need any further convincing.

“I’d love to,” he smiles, attempting to muster every ounce of sincerity he possesses. “Lead on, Swan.”

As promised, Henry is ready with a full recap, stretching longer than the actual performance lasted. Killian catches Robin’s eye over Henry’s wild gesticulating, the lighting designer clearly struggling to hold back laughter as his shoulders shake with the effort.

“If you couldn’t tell, Henry very much enjoyed your performance,” Robin relates in as serious a tone as he can muster, causing Killian to suppress his own snort.

“We’ve got the best spot, you’re going to love it,” Henry assures, completely ignoring Robin’s comment as he grabs Killian’s hand to forcibly force him into a seat. “Have you seen the parade before? I mean, probably not in person - even Mom and I have only done it once when I was, like, five or six, and we missed half of it because we couldn’t get close enough. But we watch it on TV every year! Do you?”

It’s a lot to keep up with, but Killian does his best. “I’ve only seen a little, so this will be like my first time watching it. They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in England, so Liam and I usually just enjoy the day off and don’t do much.” Honestly, he thinks Liam might sleep through the parade most years, but Henry doesn’t need to know that. Such blatant lack of festivity might break the lad’s heart, he suspects, if the current level of enthusiasm is anything to go on.

“We’ll just have to show you then,” Henry replies decisively, nodding to seal his declaration.

Indeed.

Henry proves to be quite the narrator, providing commentary on seemingly every float or balloon that passes by. Killian is particularly impressed by the balloons, floating far above the street in an almost otherworldly spectacle.

“Spiderman’s my favorite,” Henry offers, “but Mom likes Snoopy best.”

Killian turns just in time to see the woman in question shrug. “What can I say, I like the classics,” she explains. “Except the pilgrims. Those inflated heads are friggin’ creepy, and always look like they’re about to tip over.”

(She’s got a point.)

In the meantime, Henry’s mind finally catches up with some of Killian’s earlier words. “Wait,” he says, “you and your brother don’t celebrate Thanksgiving?”

“No?”

“So you’re not having a Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Not everyone does, Henry,” Emma reminds her son.

“Yeah, but he’s alone on Thanksgiving. That just seems wrong.”

“I don’t know, lad, I wouldn’t call this big crowd alone,” Killian reasons.

“Yeah, but what are you doing after this?”

The lad’s got him there. “Ah… well, I was planning on going home and heating up a bit to eat. Maybe order some Chinese takeout, if I can find a place that’s open.”

Henry stares at him at those words, wearing an expression Killian can only describe as being one of pure horror. “You can’t!”

“I’ll see if I have the makings for a deli turkey sandwich, if that makes you feel any better,” Killian offers to a stunned silence.

“Or you could just come to dinner with us,” Emma offers.

Killian’s head snaps around to meet her eyes. “Oh no, Swan, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” he protests, but Emma’s already waving off his attempts.

“Really, it wouldn’t be a hassle. Granny usually makes enough to feed 20,” she explains. “I mean, let me give her a call to make sure, but I don’t think she’d have a problem with it. If you want to come, that is, I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” she hastens to add, but there’s no need for that.

“I’d be honored,” he smiles.

———

God, what was she thinking, inviting Killian to Thanksgiving dinner?

Well, she knows what she was thinking, totally focused on making her kid happy and wiping that horrified look off his face. Plus, you know, it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, inviting Jones to dinner. He’s pleasant company, and chatty enough to fit in with all the rest of the maniacs crammed into Granny’s. Plus, he’d already know everyone, Ruby and Mary Margaret from the show and Granny from Emma’s birthday party. It certainly wouldn’t be the fiasco she’s currently inflating it into.

Granny had been more than agreeable to Killian joining them. “Of course he can come,” she said. “He’s a sweet boy. Hell, invite some of the other Thanksgiving orphans in the show if you want, Lord knows we’ve got enough to feed them all. As long as they bring booze to share.”

With Granny’s blessing, Belle had graciously accepted the extended invitation along with Killian, and Emma suspects that if Scarlet ever checks his phone and sees that his little crush is coming, he’ll join in too. Robin already has plans, taking Roland to Thanksgiving with his maternal family - “It’s the least I can do, now that his mother’s gone” - but there’s tentative plans to swing by later for pie, if timing permits.

The plan is to serve the meal at three, so all attending have been sternly instructed by the lady of the kitchen to arrive between two and two-thirty, drinks in hand. Of course, all attending just means their unexpected guests - Ruby and Emma are both expected earlier to help with the meal as needed, though in Emma’s case that mostly means putting stuff other people made into the oven and setting the table. When Granny runs out of things for Emma to stir - seriously, even Henry is trusted to do more in the kitchen - she’s banished to the dining room to act as a welcome committee for whenever their guests arrive.

Honestly, it’s a little too much time spent with her own thoughts. Emma invited Killian for the same reason she invited everyone else - she didn’t want him to have to be alone on for the holiday. That’s it. She doesn’t need to be worried for this, like it’s some date; it’s just a bunch of friends having dinner together. As friends.

That doesn’t keep her heart from jumping into her throat for a moment when Killian shows up at precisely 2:04 in the afternoon with a full bottle of red wine under one arm and an already opened bottle of rum under the other.

“I hope that’s alright,” he says. “The wine was a gift, so I’m not sure how good it is, but the rum is my own so I knew that would be palatable.”

“Yeah, that’s great. We can put those behind the counter if you want. Or back in the fridge, though I don’t really think either needs it, but hey, what do I know? Though they’re probably pretty cold already from the trip here — ”

“I promise, the counter is fine, Swan,” Killian laughs. As he moves to leave them on the laminate top, he leans in to whisper in her ear. “Relax, love. Don’t overthink it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Emma mutters, but Killian doesn’t hear her, already moving to greet Granny where she’s poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Thank you for permitting me to join your undoubtedly spectacular Thanksgiving feast, Mrs. Lucas,” he says with seemingly every ounce of formality he possesses. It’s funny to watch, Emma has to admit, especially knowing Granny and Ruby will disabuse him of that notion shortly.

“Enough of that,” she tells him briskly. “Now set down those bottles and come help, we need an extra set of hands.”

Emma can breathe easier with Killian in the kitchen as she turns back to setting the table. It doesn’t hurt, either, that the rest of the afternoon’s guests start trickling in not long after. Belle manages to arrive not ten minutes after Killian, cheeks pink from the chill, and Scarlet shortly after 2:30 with a case of cheap beer in hand.

Shockingly, it’s Mary Margaret who leaves them waiting the longest, everything but the bird itself already having been set on the table before she finally shows up. Her delay is easily excused, though, as she arrives hand-in-hand with David Nolan and red, chapped lips.

“I knew it!” Ruby crows from the table before smacking Henry in the arm. “Pay up.”

“Are you teaching my kid to bet, Ruby?” Emma calls, trying to infuse her voice with disappointed incredulity.

“Please, it’s five bucks,” she dismisses. “And it was his idea, for the record.”

“Hey Mom, do you have five bucks?” Henry grins across the table, causing a loud guffaw from Scarlet and what Emma thinks was a muffled snort from Killian. Figures.

“Hey, you got yourself into this mess, kid, you can get yourself out of it. This is what you get for betting that Co-Captains Obvious weren’t dating.��

“Oh, I still thought they were dating,” Henry clarifies. “I just thought that they’d hide it until New Year’s.”

That gets the whole table laughing, even Emma, as Mary Margaret tries to sit down with as much dignity as she can muster and a barely suppressed smile on her face. “If you all are quite done,” she says primly, “then yes, David and I have been seeing each other for the last couple of weeks. And I’m very happy about it.” She takes the moment to smile at her paramour, the picture of lovesick serenity. “And he is too. Now, can we start dinner before everything gets cold?”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, girlie,” Granny warns, the affection clear in her voice. “But we’ll put it aside for the moment. Serve yourself, everyone, I’m the cook not the waiter.”

As the room dissolves into laughter and conversation, everyone attempting to grab for their favorites, Emma leans over to whisper in Mary Margaret’s ear. “I am happy for you, you know, all bets aside.”

“Thanks, Emma,” the pixie-haired brunette beams back. “I’m happy too.”

Emma probably shouldn’t be surprised, but despite all the last minute additions, it still feels like a proper family dinner, not the hodge-podge of people it technically is. Of course, Killian is right in the middle of it all, trading innuendos with Ruby, patiently listening to Henry tell about seemingly every past Thanksgiving he’s ever celebrated, and gently ribbing David and Mary Margaret - but mostly David - about their budding relationship. Honestly, she could picture another holiday spent in his company, would welcome it in fact.

(With everyone else too, of course. Purely as friends. Because when you stumble across a good thing, why mess with it?)

———

Killian misses Liam’s first call that night, too busy trying to wrestle the mountain of Thanksgiving leftovers Granny sent him home with into the fridge, and almost misses the second, the device buzzing precariously close to the edge before he executes an impressive dive to snatch the phone off the counter in time.

“Hello?” he manages to gasp out, slightly out of breath from his dramatic grab.

“Am I interrupting something?” Liam asks, amusement coloring his voice. “I just wanted to call and congratulate you on the parade again, but do I need to call back later? Or tomorrow perhaps?”

“No, no, not really. It’s fine. What’s up?”

“‘Not really’? Not to pry, but I thought you were set up for a quiet day in after the parade. Did you have plans I didn’t know about?”

“Not that you knew about, no,” Killian hedges, “but I ended up having a late lunch with some people from the show.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?” Liam asks, a little too genuinely. The bastard probably already knows exactly what happened without even being told. Some days, Killian wonders if there’s some kind of psychic power associated with being a big brother.

“Oh, you know. Belle. David and Mary Margaret - they’re dating now, as it turns out. No one is particularly shocked. Will Scarlet put in an appearance - he’s the one who’s got his sights set on Belle. A few others. Anyhow, did you have an eventful day?” Killian attempts to breeze right over the fact that he spent his holiday with Emma’s family, essentially, but doubts it was very effective an effort.

“Oh no no no, little brother,” Liam redirects, laughing right over Killian’s muttered protest of younger, Liam, younger. “I see what you’re doing. A few others? One of those ‘few others’ wouldn’t happen to be your lady and her boy, would they?”

“Still not my lady,” Killian reminds Liam. Honestly, it’s getting a little old - especially since Liam was one of the voices telling him that maybe it wouldn’t be such a brilliant idea to ask Emma out in the first place. “But yes, they might have been there.”

“Might have been?”

“Ok, they were there. In fact, Emma was the one that invited me. They always spend Thanksgiving, and most holidays I think, with one of the costume assistants and her grandmother. Happy?”

“Quite.” It’s impossible to miss the smug note in Liam’s voice. “So, tell me,” he continues, “how was Thanksgiving dinner?” It’s so easy in Killian’s mind’s eye to picture Liam leaning forward with his chin propped in his hands, the universal sign for sarcastic attention. Wanker.

“No. I’m not telling you if you’re going to be a horse’s arse about it.”

“Oh c’mon, Killy,” Liam wheedles, but Killian’s having none of it.

“No, I’m serious. I appreciate your advice when I need it, but not when I have to deal with your relentless teasing the rest of the time! It makes me not want to tell you things, honestly.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” Liam concedes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry, younger brother,” he emphasizes, as if to underline just how genuine he’s being. “Would you like to talk about your day - or at least the dinner part of it? I’m a willing ear if you want it. Otherwise, I’d love to hear about the parade.”

Killian considers telling Liam no, flat-out, but the truth is he kind of does want to rehash the day, share his excitement and enthusiasm over his first real Thanksgiving (not the vaguely British facsimile he and his brother half-assed, to borrow a phrase, their first few years on this side of the pond). That doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy on his brother; no, after the teasing he’s been subjected to, he deserves a little taunting of his own - at least by way of leaving Liam in suspense for a while.

“The parade was amazing, Liam, every minute of it. Watching it on TV doesn’t give you any idea of the sheer spectacle of it all,” Killian says, gushing a little bit despite any intentions he might have had about acting like an adult on the phone. It’s far too late for that; the grin stretching his face at the mere memory of the day’s festivities is proof positive of that. “I must have looked like a fool in the crowd afterwards, just grinning like a madman, but Gods, Liam, I’ve never seen anything like it. Even for New York standards, the crowds were huge, and everyone was just buzzing with excitement. I swear, I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“Well you were amazing, Killian,” Liam replies warmly. “I’m so proud of you. I’m tempted to go find a YouTube video of the performance and email it to everyone I know, like some kind of obnoxious parent.”

“Well, that seems a bit excessive,” he comments dryly, “but I take your point. It really felt like we were one organism today, you know? All moving as once to execute the best performance we could.”

“Trust me, Killian, it showed. I’ll be shocked if that appearance doesn’t exponentially increase the buzz around the show.”

Killian could drag this out, describe each balloon in detail, exactly where and how they prepared inside of Macy’s, precisely how cold it was to the tenth of a degree with excruciating attention to which specific fingers and toes felt the chill, but he takes pity on Liam instead. He’s behaved, even though Killian knows he’s dying to hear about dinner. “Somehow, the Swans found out that I was planning to go back and microwave a meal in my apartment - Henry insisted we watch the parade together - so they invited me along to their own plans. Which kind of spiraled out into inviting several of the other Brits without plans. It was truly lovely, Liam,” he exudes, really getting into the recounting. “I swear, Mrs. Lucas cooked enough food to feed half of Manhattan. Henry swears she does this every year, and likely didn’t even have to cook any extra when Swan called about extra seats at the table. Though I doubt that last part.”

“Sounds like a regular feast,” Liam comments, chuckling.

“Oh, you have no idea. I missed your first call, and nearly the second, because I was trying to stack all the tupperware I was sent home with into the fridge. What do they call it? Fridge tetris?”

Liam barks out a laugh at that. “Aye, I think that’s the technical term. That much food?”

“That much. And Mrs. Lucas was sending it home with everyone, I wasn’t a special charity case. The whole affair was so lovely, really, I’ve never seen — ” Killian stops abruptly. “No teasing, you promise? Even if you think me some kind of ridiculous lovestruck fool?”

“No teasing,” Liam swears. “Even if you’re carrying on like a lovestruck fool. I’ll sit here and listen attentively and supportively, I promise.”

If they were having this conversation in person, Killian would toss his brother a skeptical look, but since that’s not an option, he plows on ahead. “I really understood the whole thing first-hand for the first time, you know? I mean, you can hear about how this is a holiday for families as much as you want, or see it on television or in the movies, but it doesn’t really sink in until you’re sitting in the middle of it. There was so much sheer affection at that table, Liam. And I’ve never seen Emma so at ease.” He pauses for breath, taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts. “I’m aware that that doesn’t really mean much, considering our relatively short acquaintance, but still. She was comfortable, in a casual way I haven’t previously associated with her. Like that was her place, in some kind of deep and emotional and cliche way. Does that make sense?”

“She looked at home,” Liam supplies, putting the words right in Killian’s mouth.

“Yes! Exactly. I know I must sound silly - this is where the lovestruck fool bit comes in, so please, contain yourself - but it’s nice, being able to discover these new sides to Swan that I don’t see every day. Charming. Wonderful. Some other word more expressive than nice.” Killian stops himself before he gets too far. “I’m babbling.”

“A little bit.”

“Kind of you to downplay it.”

“Anytime.”

They both laugh at that. Technically, the comments break Liam’s vow not to tease him, but their spirit certainly doesn’t, so Killian lets it pass.

“So you had a great day?” Liam asks.

“The best. Enough about me, though, what about you, how was your Thanksgiving? Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, brother. My day was much more low-key than yours. Dropped by to have a few beers with a couple other ex-pats from the film, but that’s about it. Honestly, watching you in the parade was the highlight.”

Killian blushes at the words. “You don’t have to say that,” he mumbles, but Liam can probably hear the smile in his voice anyway.

“I only say it because it’s true,” his elder brother promises.

“Thanks, Liam.”

Conversation turns towards more general topics eventually, not that Killian minds. He loves these calls with his brother, even if he was a bit late to this particular one.

“Christ, it must be getting late for you,” Liam finally says. He’s not wrong - they’ve been on the phone for almost an hour, and in that time it’s gotten quite dark outside. “I’ll let you go - I’ll have to be up early tomorrow anyways.” It’s a half-assed excuse and they both know it, especially since Killian is pretty sure he’s the only one who has to work tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” he asks, even though he’s sure of the answer. Big Brother Liam, still trying to make sure little Killy goes to bed on time and brushes his teeth.

“Go on. We’ll talk later,” Liam replies, absolutely certain. Who is Killian to argue with that?

“Alright, well, Happy Thanksgiving, Liam.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, little - younger brother.”

#my writing #cs ff #cs au #Playing the Part #Before the Parade Passes By #Broadway AU #stage manager!Emma #actor!Killian #happy thanksgiving #a month early

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asuma-kousuke-pics · 6 years

Text

Ramblings about Kousuke

Okay so I’m a little hesitant to do this, since it actually goes into some pretty personal stuff of mine but... I really can’t hold back an outpouring of love for Kousuke if I tried so... Here goes. (Please note: I do mention some of my own personal mental health stuff here so, if anyone isn’t comfortable with that, please feel free to skip this post. I promise we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled Kousuke pictures and videos very soon, especially as I have content from yesterday’s stream). Also forgive my flowery way of talking. I’m a writer at my core, and sometimes that really, really shows.

2015 was, as some already know, the year of the very first Engeki Haikyu!! And the start of a certain someone's career on stage.

At this point I hadn't even heard of Haikyu (though, perhaps I had vaguely spotted the manga on our bookshelves at work, but it was a section I rarely paid much attention to), let alone any of the characters and certainly none of actors playing them on stage.

Within the space of two years however, things would change very rapidly and, eventually lead me in that oddly destined way that life seems to unfold for me, to that one certain actor, Asuma Kousuke.

Fast forward just a little, to early 2016. After a difficult year previously (and some of my lowest lows yet), I was finally on good tracks again. I was in a good place. And apparently, I was ready to embrace a brand-new obsession.

Anime and manga.

I hadn't intended to fall quite so face first, but I guess we all know what that's like.

I remember, very distinctly seeing a video pop up on my timeline on twitter. Pretty sure most people have seen it. That one where all the members of Engeki Haikyu come up to the camera, in character and say a few things and generally play around. Yeah, that one. I saw that and, though I didn’t even really know Haikyu very well yet, I knew vaguely enough to know where they were from. And I got /that/ feeling. I often talk about fate and destiny and for the most part I probably sound pretty silly, but my instincts are usually right. I remember thinking, ‘… one of you is going to end up being very important. I don’t know which one, and I don’t know in what way. But one of you. Definitely.’

That was the very first time I saw Kousuke. And at that point, I had no idea how right that thought of mine would end up being. Especially since at that point I didn’t even know the name Oikawa Tohru, let alone knowing Asuma Kousuke. But… The wheels were in motion, even then.

By the end of 2016 I’d fully gotten into Haikyu. I was still wavering on my favourite character at that point, but leaning more and more towards Nishinoya (who in the end has stuck as my favourite, not that I think many people know that!), but the series itself in general had utterly won my heart. Yet, still, apart from the brief glimpses of images and clips I still knew very little about the stage play. Occasionally I’d see a gif or picture and marvel at how perfect everyone looked and how well they captured the characters but mostly I was just interested in the anime.

Then Kuroko no Basuke happened. And… That series would need a whole piece of writing for itself... For reasons I won’t go into here. But this is when I saw images of the Kuroko no Basuke stage play. And this is where I caught my first sight of the person who was due to really set everything in motion. Kuroba Mario. Instantly blown away by how incredibly perfectly Mario depicted my golden boy Kise. I started looking into the stage and realised the production wasn’t far enough in to feature Akashi yet. For now, I still looked at the stage plays as something else that went on, but I didn’t really get involved in.

But it was only a couple of months before this would all change.

In that wonderfully complicated way that life likes to move in, I ended up making friends with someone who was a big fan of Mario. And, since they were a fan of both Kise and Oikawa, I ended seeing a little more of Kousuke too.

And then, quite suddenly I found myself looking more and more into Mario, and realising that actually, yes, I did adore him quite a lot. I also presented Kousuke to my dearest Mei, knowing that Oikawa is her favourite from Haikyu (well… Him and Hinata. So obviously once we got going Kenta would become pretty prominent, but we had a little way to go before that yet.)

Yep. The truth that I think Mei thinks I forget. I did originally present Kousuke to her as ‘her boy’. But me being the natural researcher and ever one to keep digging once I get interested in something, it didn’t take long before I was coming back like ‘uhhh…… so….?? Share?’ I’m lucky that she is much, much better at sharing than I am.

Within days both Mario and Kousuke were popping up everywhere I could possibly talk about them. My phone slowly filling up with images and gifs. First of them as Kise and Oikawa, and then slowly branching into other roles, and then of them themselves. Mario had charmed me completely. But I hadn’t quite realised how much impact Kousuke was having until about two weeks in. Incidentally it was my birthday that I decided I’d finally go tracking down the boys social media pages. It was still Mario I followed first on both Instagram and twitter, but Kousuke was immediately after that. What I hadn’t counted on was a sudden relapse of something I hadn’t had to think of for a while.

That bad year I mentioned in 2015? That was when my anxiety and OCD was at it’s peak. That was the year I let things get so bad, but that I was finally able to recognise that I needed help and, thankful to say, I got it. It was tough, but it was worth it to get the other side of it. I’d been free from those kinds of thinking, for the most part ever since I’d gotten into anime and manga. The odd spike thanks to Attack on Titan (…. Worst series to be into when you have anxiety disorder + a favourite character right?), but mostly I’d been good. Maybe focusing on anime characters was easier than focusing on real people. I guess it was.

It was while I was quite happily scrolling through Kousuke’s twitter account (mostly with the help of google translate, my Japanese was extremely limited at that point), that it happened.

It’s hard to explain, as I guess most things are when it comes to matters dealing with how a mind works, but I remember that cold feeling creeping up on me. An old kind of fear that I’d used to live with constantly. And with it, the cogs in my brain working overdrive. A panic, realising this was a resurgence of something that had trapped me so long. My brain terrified of something, and it hurriedly trying to come up with ways to prevent it. I can’t speak more specifically because, even if at the time my brain thought it had something specific to fear, it usually is more abstract than that. Awful timing to happen on my birthday, huh? But. This time, I had the tools to deal with it. And, while it was scary, I was able to breathe and calm down and not let these intrusive thoughts take over. Within a couple of hours I was smiling, and kinda laughing a little. In a way it was my brain’s way of telling me THIS BOY!! VERY IMPORTANT!! MUST PROTECT!! So. I guessed there was no point denying how very much Kousuke had taken over my world by then. So I accepted it, with ever gaining relish.

Now I often and quite happily declare Kousuke to be one of the very best things to have happened to me. One of my most prized possessions is my copy of his photobook, which my dearest Mei bought me for Christmas. It’s precious to me for many reasons. But mostly because it’s one item I can constantly count on to help manage my anxiety. It’s partly the distraction of focusing on something else, partly Kousuke’s smiling face and partly… Just that particular warm feeling I get from Kousuke. If things seem difficult to deal with, or I notice a spike in my anxiety, by the time I’ve made my way through Pop Step Jump I’m a little calmer. And feeling a little bit stronger.

Kousuke makes me so happy, and I recognise and am so grateful for everything he does for his fans. I’m proud to be part of his fanbase, even if I can’t properly communicate with all of them (I promise, I’m learning as fast as I can!) Kousuke has one of the nicest, warmest and sweetest fanbases I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You guys are so lovely. And I can’t thank you enough for how unendingly sweet you are to Kousuke. As someone who’s been in too many fanbases that like to tear their own idols to pieces, this is the most heart-warming place to be. My learning of Japanese has picked up at least tenfold since I started following him. From my stubbornness at still watching videos and interviews without subtitles, and of course Kousuke’s many live streams, I’ve found my understanding growing, even if it’s not exactly perfect. I’ve become bolder in my replies to Kousuke on twitter at including Japanese as well as English. I like to think he sees my improvement over time. From someone who could just about type ‘おはよう’ and ‘おやすみ’ to some basic sentences, I also like to think any mistakes I do make will make him smile as he sees me trying my best.

I won’t say my anxiety never picks up again. I especially get concerned about missing live streams to the point I think I’ve accidentally made myself ill on occasion. This may sound selfish of me, but this is my inferiority complex at work, and the fear of not doing enough. Please be assured, the standards I set for myself are in no way standards I place on anyone else. I only EVER expect these things from myself, no one else. In fact, I’ll probably think you better than me no matter what. I always want to do as much as humanly possible for Kousuke. That’s probably the only way my anxiety manifests with Kousuke, which, if you’d known me in years past, is actually pretty impressive.

It’s hard to sum up when I’ve already said so much, and yet so much still feels unsaid. I hope I’ve gotten across at least some of the love and adoration I have for Kousuke. Of how he came into my life, and made it better. How he’s made me stronger and happier in many ways. And how I hope to keep on supporting him, the best ways I know how to. I truly, truly hope I get to thank him in person one day (even if there’s no way I could possibly convey it all, but that’s okay).

大好き遊馬く��, ありがとうございます。

And thank you anyone who took the time to read this. ♥ Back to your regularly scheduled posts very soon! - Aka.

#personal #writing #asuma Kousuke

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thegracecardinal · 6 years

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a night to regret

who? grace cardinal & vanessa morgan

where? a club & unknown location

when? june december 26th (when this bit of writing takes place) to june december 29th (endings to be described in separate self paras)

what? grace and vanessa go to a club to party, but end up being kidnapped by a rival gang.

trigger warnings? mild violence & kidnapping

Grace tugged her shorts up over her fishnet stockings before pulling a crop top over her bra. Adjusting her top, she glanced around her room before spotting her boots. She shoved her feet into them before hurrying out of her room. Her mom was home for now, resting, and she had a nurse that checked up on her, so Grace didn't feel bad as she grabbed her mom's keys and left out the front door. She drove until she spotted Vanessa on the sidewalk waiting for her. Pulling over, she smiled as the girl got into the passengers seat, "So, you ready to forget?" She sped off towards their destination, "This truly is the best time of the year, eh?" She joked.

Vanessa walked the block past Vince's cladded in a short black cocktail dress and heeled boots. Her tasseled to the side, she made her way to meet Grace at the pick up location. They needed this night out. Even if it was just to dance and get drunk. Vanessa, Grace included but for other reasons, just needed to get away from everything going on (and wrong) in their lives. Vanessa waved into the car once Grace had finally appeared. "Already forgetting," she joked backed. Making herself comfortable in the seat she turned to her friend with a smile, "Which means they'll be the best deals off the year. I hear it's ladies night!"

Grace laughed, glancing over at her friend, “Places still do ladies night?” She shook her head, taking the next turn towards the club, “I guess that means I have to be a lady tonight.” She joked, pulling into the parking lot. Finding a spot to park, she sat back for a moment and looked at her friend now, “You look amazing.” She smiled big before getting out of the car and going around the car to take Vanessa’s arm, “Alright. Let’s get me completely shitfaced. But not so much that I text someone I shouldn’t.” She giggled.

Vanessa "Uh, yeah! They have to find some way to make guys want to come," Vanessa grinned. She shook her head laughing as they pulled into the club area. "And you look great as always," she repeated back, linking her arm with her friend's. She knew it had been a rough couple of months for Grace and wanted to make sure she had the best night away from everything. "It's my friend's birthday! Can we get some tequila shots?" Vanessa yelled as the approached the bar. If there was one thing Vanessa knew, bars were always nicer if they thought it was a birthday.

Grace rolled her eyes, not really interested in guys right now, but she didn't really care who was here tonight. All that mattered was that she was with Vanessa and they were both pretending the outside world didn't exist. As the two giddily made their way into the club and towards the bar, she gave her friend a look, "Oh? Well, happy birthday me!" She laughed, happily taking a shot of tequila and holding it up to cheers, "To... always having each others backs, no matter what." It felt like she was growing distant from everyone she cared about, so she was planning to hold on to Vanessa as best she could. Grace brought the glass to her lips and tipped her head back, her face scrunching up in disgust as she swallowed, "Ugh gross. I need another." She laughed, reaching for another shot.

Vanessa "To us!" Vanessa cheered, clinging then glass with her friends. It took Vanessa a second to complete her shot, shots not really being her thing, before slamming it down on the hennessy," she grinned. She was thankful to have someone like Grace in her life. They were protective of each other, but always allowed the other the room to mess up and grow from things. That's why she always kept Grace around, Grace saw something in Vanessa she hadn't seen within herself. "Psst," she whispered, catching Grace's attention. "Your ten o'clock. James Dean over there keeps giving you the look."

Grace laughed, maybe downing a shot or two too many, definitely too quickly. It was apparent that the tequila was doing its job as Grace started to sway to the music, "I dunno what song this is, but I like it!" She grinned wide. Her eyes followed Vanessa's gaze and she shook her head, "Oh. Oh no no, no more guys for me. I'm pining after Jonah when he doesn't want me anymore, and Hunter kissed me and I liked it a lot. I'm a fucking mess." She snorted, but then her eyes landed on the guy again and she saw his grin, "Okay, he's hot." She shrugged nonchalantly.

Vanessa had pregamed a bit before getting her so it felt like that last Hennessy shot had really got to her. Her body felt calm and everything felt comfortable for the first time in a long time. She popped out of her euphoria for a moment hearing Grace's tale, grabbing another shot to process it all. "Okay first of all hate baby Hollingsworth, you can do better. Secondly, we're not thinking of anyone from outside these walls tonight. You don't hear me out here pinning over Eli right?" She paused realizing her name drop, "You didn't hear that. Come on let's dance! Show James Dean over there what he's missing out on if he doesn't buy us a drink!"

Grace smirked, "You hate Hunter? Not surprising." She giggled, realizing the boy could be pretty annoying if you didn't know him well enough. Her eyes widened and she grabbed Vanessa's arm, "Wait, Eli?! What? I'm so... What???!" She shook her head in shock, "But.." Grace blinked a few times before she looked around and sneakily stole a shot from the people beside them. Downing the liquid, she nodded, "Alright. Fine." She rolled her eyes and pulled Vanessa into the crowd with her. As they danced, she noticed more than one set of male eyes on them and her eyebrows furrowed with curiosity, "Do we look dumb or something? Why are there so many staring?"

Vanessa "But if we're being honest I hate most elite rich kids at this place, so it makes no difference," Vanessa shrugged. She chewed on the inside of her lip before finally answering. "He's... interesting," Vanessa smiled, not truly knowing the status of Eli and Grace since their kiss. Once they were in the middle of the dance floor, Vanessa felt all her inhibitions floating away as her hips swayed to the music. She didn't stop her dancing on account of Grace's comment. "Not to toot my own horn, but I am pretty hot," Vanessa laughed, her eyes following where Grace was looking. "They probably don't have the confidence to come up to us so they think staring is a better option," Vanessa answered, not thinking too much of the eyes. "You're hot. I'm hot. Don't pay them any mind. You're gonna make me enjoy this buzz alone?"

Grace "I get it. Rich people suck." She snorted. Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing more about Eli. Her eye was on Jonah and that was it. She lazily danced to the music, her eyes closing halfway as she twirled in more ways than one. A laugh fell from her mouth, "Obviously you're hot." Grace eyed a few of the men, things spinning a little too much for her to really see their faces, especially with how dark it was, "Do.... Does.... He looks familiar, right?" She questioned, both herself and Vanessa, "One, I am not hot. Two, I am very much enjoying."

Vanessa nodded, not wanting to dwell on her distain for the Hollingsworths for too long. "Miles' isn't too bad," she shrugged. Her laugh turned into a loud giggle hearing Grace's confirmation. "Real recognize real," she grinned. Before she could say anything, one of the guys that was with Grace's admirer brought Vanessa a drink just calling her beautiful and walking away. She didn't waste anytime sipping on it, offering some off to Grace. "See I'm hot," she teased. Vanessa continued to drink trying to figure out where Grace was exactly looking. "Does who look familiar?" her eye sight was a little fuzzy, she blamed on the tequila shots as she scanned the room. "The only person I know here is you, and you are hot. You literally have two guys, one super attractive and the other rich, pining after you. They're not with you for your expert computer skills, babe."

Grace cringed when Vanessa said Miles wasn't too bad. She definitely didn't see him in that kind of way. A smile brightened her features when Vanessa was brought a drink, gladly taking sips from it, "Damn, must be nice getting free stuff just for your looks." She teased. It felt as though her eyes were beginning to droop even more and she was starting to lose her train of thought, "Uuhhh... Nevermind. Drunk mind is seeing things." She shrugged, laughing it off. Grace felt herself stumble a little as she danced, lightly catching herself against Vanessa, "No. Jonah doesn't want me. He's moving on. Probably as we speak. With Esme. Or Frankie. Or maybe even Clare! They're all in beautiful Aspen together, sexing it up and forgetting aaalll about me." She grumbled, fumbling in her pocket till she got her phone and incoherently texted as she half danced, half swayed about in the crowd.

Vanessa "It's exhausting honestly. Having to be fake nice to people and then having to deal with their drunk asses at the end of the night is not as fun as a free drink. Thankfully, I have you hear to pummel any creep who tries to take me home," Vanessa's voice trailed. As Vanessa continued to spin with the music, she could feel her head becoming hazy but she concluded it down to her excessive spinning. However she felt so free and weightless in this moment she didn't want to fight it anymore. "Uh, ew. There's so many things w-wrong with that. Frankie's like twelve, Esme's too busy shoving her tongue down Tiny's throat and Clare... Well she's too innocent. Too boring if you ask me," she replied, stuttering a bit in the middle. "Do you honestly think they're all there worried about "sexing it up"? If you were away from Toronto, you would not be worried about those who came with you." Vanessa finished the drink, dropping it on one of the nearby tables. Once she returned to Grace, she rolled her eyes snatching the phone out of her hands. "Nope! It's Girl's Night remember? No drunk booty calls."

Grace snorted, "Me? Pummel someone? I mean, for you, I'd try." She smiled lazily. Her eyes kept wandering around, partially cause everything was spinning, but also because she kept looking for that familiar face. She really did recognize someone, though she couldn't figure out how. Trying to focus back on her friend, she shrugged, "Jonah is gorgeous, those girls must be all over him. And are you kidding me?! We're teenagers, of course we're worried about each other and sex and hormones and.... all that stuff!" She pouted, trying to get her phone back, "No booty call, I promise. It was Jonah, he was texting me back!" Grace looked at her friend and stopped fighting for her phone, "I'm pathetic. I see it now." Sighing loudly, she started to lean toward her friend, "I drank too much." She mumbled.

Vanessa giggled, "Yeah we both know I'm the muscles behind this operation." Vanessa scanned the room one more time, seeing parts of it becoming more crowded and other parts becoming more spacious. She reluctantly handed the raven haired girl her phone back, shaking her head. "I'm not worried about that," she shrugged, grabbing onto her friend's hand. She moved through the crowd, finding one of the empty corners to talk to her friend in. Even in her drunken state, Vanessa still managed to go into Mom mode. "Hey, hey you're not pathetic. We can leave if you want? Uber to my place, keep drinking there, and then we'll come get your car in the morning. Sound good?" As she spoke, one of the men from earlier offered to wait outside with them so they weren't stranded in the dark. "Come on, Grace, I'll call it and we can wait outside," she spoke, not even acknowledging the man who came near them.

Grace smiled giddily as Vanessa handed her phone back to her, despite the fact that she could barely read a damn thing on the phone at the moment. She let her friend take her hand, tripping along behind her, "Where are we going??" She glanced around, not even seeing faces anymore. Almost running right into Vanessa because she wasn't paying attention, she came to a stop and looked her friend in the eye, "I'm ruining the night, aren't I? Dammit, I'm sorry! I want you to have fun, and I wanna have fun with you, I swear!" Grace jumped when the random man spoke to them, giving him a look, "Stranger danger, no thanks." Quickly, she focused back on Vanessa, "Okay, yeah. We'll have fun on our own. I promise." Looping her arm with the other girls, they headed towards the exit. A man bumped into her and caused her to stumble, "Excuse you. Jeez." She murmured, shaking her head. The man kept close to them, though, rather than walking away, which made some distant part in Grace's mind worry.

Vanessa "No, no. The night is less than over. I just don't like the ways those creeps keep staring at us," Vanessa pointed out. She tried to keep her mind focus on everything but her vision was going in and out. The voices around her starting to blur. She quickly shook her head, reminding herself to have water when she got home. There was no one outside once the pair got out, causing some nervousness through Vanessa. She pulled her phone out, almost laughing to herself, "Damn what's my phone number?" Before she could have told Siri to put in her address, Vanessa felt a pull at her sides. "I can get you home," the voice called from behind her ear. In her drunken state the words felt comfortable as shellacked along with the body. How much did she drink? "Come on Grace, let's go home,' she grinned nodding her friend to follow along. The man's hand snaked around Vanessa as three more men followed closely behind Grace. "If you scream, we'll kill her right here," the whispered into Grace's ear.

Grace When the two got outside, Grace focused on her phone and her texts between her and Jonah. She didn't realize other people had come outside with them until she heard a voice. Looking up, she could barely make out their faces, and as she shook her head no, the world began to turn. She stumbled, almost falling over, but one of the guys caught her and started ushering her along, "No, V." She mumbled, looking down at her phone to try and continue her text to Jonah, tell him something was wrong, but the man pulling her along grabbed her phone from her. Grace tried to grab for it, finding herself to be too weak from whatever she had drank, and the strangers words didn't help. Not wanting to test his words, she kept her mouth shut as the two were brought to a van and pushed inside, "Vanessa, I-" She was cut off by the feeling a hand at the back of her neck, squeezing. It was definitely a warning and Grace obeyed.

Vanessa's mind didn't think too much of what was going on. She wasn't forced into the van, more guided into it would be a better way to phrase it. She tried to lay down in the van, but felt a pull on her wrist strapping them together. "W-what the?" Vanessa whispered trying to free her wrist. Her head perked up looking up at Grace attempting to say her name. Her eyes wide, but her body unable to fight off what was going on. Before she could say anything back she noticed them grabbing on to Grace and knew better to speak. Vanessa took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Grace grit her teeth as rope was tied firmly around her wrists, connecting them and rendering her unable to use her hands. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, really wishing she were sober right now. When she opened her eyes, she saw the look of worry and fear on Vanessa’s face. She nodded once, slowly, trying to convey that everything would be okay. Just a moment after, the two girls were blindfolded, so they didn’t see where they were being taken. Her breathing had become shaky and she was trying her hardest not to pass out from all the drinks she’d had. Grace wasn’t sure how long it’d been before the car finally came to a stop. She felt a hand on her arm, pulling her out of the vehicle and leading her into a building. Her blindfold was pulled off and she swayed with dizziness as her eyes adjusted as best they could, “Welcome to your hell, ladies.” Her eyes landed on the man who had spoken, “What the hell do you want with us?!” The man looked to another in the room and nodded, which prompted the other man to slap her across the face, “You will speak only when I say you can.” Her jaw set, but she stayed quiet.

Vanessa had to remember back to her father trying to prepare her for this. She was to keep her mouth shut, get inventory of the place, and someone would come to get here, if all else fails fight like Hell. Her father's words ringing in her head as the blindfold was pressed roughly onto her eyelids and forcing out of the van. Vanessa was forced down on her knees as the blindfold was pulled away. She looked over to Grace, trying to show she was alright until she saw Grace getting smack. She quickly fixed her face turning to the men surrounding them. There had to be six or seven directly near them and about four adjacent at each exit. "Now you can either give us the location to your warehouse or spend the week with us. I'm sure the boys will find a nice way to get you talking or screaming, which ever comes first," the guy in the front spoke. Vanessa took a deep breath, "Do your worst." She couldn't 't be afraid, not now, especially not that they were trying to get to her father's place. At her words her head was pushed into the floor a ringing noise in her ear and she felt a dripping of blood on her temple.

Grace heard the mans demand, but she knew better than to talk. She definitely hadn't been in the life as long as Vanessa, that much was true, but she had learned more than enough within the past year. Lifting her chin, she said nothing and looked defiantly at the men around her before glancing to Vanessa. She only flinched a little when they hurt her friend, not wanting to show the affect this had on her, "Separate them." Grace's head flew around to look at the lead man once again, clenching her teeth in anger. The last thing she wanted was for them to not be together during this. She was grabbed by the arm and she fought violently to get away, refusing to leave Vanessa alone, but she was thrown to the ground, not able to catch herself with her hands tied. One of the men kicked her in the stomach, causing a rush of air to leave her body, "Now get the fuck up and do as you're told." Struggling to get herself up, the man nearest to her gripped her arm and heaved her to her feet. Looking back at Vanessa, she gave her a serious look, willing her friend to be strong, before she was dragged into the next room.

to be continued....

#vanessapara2 #vznessa

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gruumpy-cat · 6 years

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The Art of Being Nonchalant (Or Not) / Chapter One

It was the night of my seventeenth birthday party. I was trying to fall asleep in the Potters' guest room, which is conveniently nicknamed Quinn's room since I was the one who mostly spent the nights there as opposed to any other guest, but I was too buzzed from drinking and dancing and thinking, so sleep eluded me.

One of the drawbacks of drinking, I guess. Though I don't remember ever hearing other people complain about sleepless nights after a night out. I'll have to ask around.

Deciding that sleep is just not in the cards tonight, I rolled out of bed, threw on my shorts and a loose T-shirt since I didn't want to walk around in my underwear, and gently opened the door of the bedroom.

Looking out into the hallway I could see that everyone's rooms were closed and I guessed they were probably asleep like normal people. Ignoring the obvious problem with going into another person's room at night uninvited, I tiptoed into the hallway and did my best stealthy Faceless Man impression until I got to the door of the room next to mine. I was honestly surprised I managed to do this without making a sound due to my buzzed state, but I guess luck was on my side tonight.

Carefully opening the door, I snuck in and was engulfed in almost complete darkness, the moon the only thing illuminating the room since the Potters' home was pretty isolated from the rest of Godric's Hollow.

"James?" I whispered. "You awake?"

I could hear faint grumbling from the direction of his bed. I stepped around the clothes on the floor, probably unceremoniously dumped before he crashed, and came over to where I could see him sprawled across the bed in a position any sane person would classify as impossible.

But James Sirius Potter always did do things the impossible way.

I sat down on the bed and poked him. My poke was awarded nothing more than an almost imperceptible grumble. It was time for drastic measures. I scooted over next to him and sat on his torso. That woke him up.

"Merlin's beard, Quinn, why are you bothering me in the middle of the night?" James looked at me through half closed eyes as he said this. He obviously forgot that we do something like this every year. Or he was still a bit drunk, which was probably closer to the truth. I was in no position to judge him. But I could blame grandad and Ethan for buying the booze for the party.

"Bothering you?" I looked at him as his eyes cleared and he realised that it was well after midnight and what that meant. He quickly sat up and engulfed me in a tight hug. I could smell the familiar minty smell of his shampoo on his still damp hair and the Firewhisky on his breath even though he brushed his teeth. The smell of alcohol is not something cured by toothpaste.

He drew back and smiled at me. We were so close that I could see the specks in his hazel eyes even in the low light. I returned his smile.

"Happy birthday, Quinn," he said in a low voice as he turned towards his end table and took out what I presumed to be my real birthday present. We usually got something jokey for each other to give out with the rest of our friends and family, but the real presents came after.

James gave me a fairly thin, neatly wrapped present and excitedly looked at me while I tore at the black wrapping paper.

The wrapping paper revealed a cardboard box. You could count on James to wrap his presents the right way, no messy cuts or badly taped Spellotape and definitely no presents outside of a box if they didn't come in their own. I, on the other hand, was a lost cause.

As I opened the box, a cloud obscured the moon and suddenly, we were in complete darkness. I could feel the familiar shape of a vinyl record sleeve but on top of it was something else I couldn't recognise by touch.

The cloud passed and moonlight streamed in, allowing me to actually see the presents. As soon as I saw the vinyl I nearly squealed but managed to stop myself before I woke anyone up.

"You found it! I can't believe you managed to get me the first LP Sons of Tyr ever recorded," I exclaimed, "they're incredibly rare."

James just grinned at me "It helps when your dad knows Mundungus Fletcher."

I looked at him with a horrified expression, "Tell me this didn't fall off the back of a broom!"

"Nah, he just conveniently knows a lot of people selling a lot of rare stuff, including records. He managed to get me a discount on account of you being easy on the eyes," he laughed at what I was sure was a disgusted look on my face.

Taking the other present in my hand and seeing it for what it was - a black picture frame decorated with little silver Beater's bats and Bludgers and the two of us, aged eleven, flying together in my parents' backyard during Christmas holidays. I could remember grandad taking the photograph right before my brother Ethan threw a snowball at his head. I was pretty sure this was the first photograph of the two of us together. James probably had to collude with my grandfather for this present.

"Do you like it?" James asked after I didn't say anything for a while, just looking at the moving photograph. I looked up at him and grinned.

"It's perfect, James. Thank you!"

He smirked, wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and said, "You know, I did like the other presents you got earlier."

I got up and put the vinyl and the photograph on his desk before lying down next to him.

"Oh really? Which one did you like the most?" I asked, turning on my side so I could look at him while we talked.

"My favourite was the one Ash got you," he blushed while he said this which was unusual since James almost never blushed unless his mum said something really embarrassing, like how he used to have a toy rabbit he slept with at home until he was twelve. He named the rabbit Fluffy and his dad found that hilarious for some reason.

"You mean the red slutty dress I would probably wear once a year?" I mused. My usual choice of attire was black jeans and a black T-shirt. I like the colour black. I would make a great woman of the Night's Watch if they accepted women and I lived in the A Song of Ice and Fire universe. Ashley Thompson, one of my dorm mates at Hogwarts, liked to give me presents that I would probably never buy for myself. I'm pretty sure all the dresses I own came from her one way or another.

He nodded, "Yeah, that's the one."

I lightly punched him, "You're just teasing me."

"Maybe. But I bet Al loved it. I think his jaw actually dropped," he said this in a lower voice.

At the mention of Al's name, I remembered what I was thinking about that possibly had a hand in making this night sleepless. I turned again so I was on my back staring at James' ceiling which was charmed to show the night sky.

"I broke up with Al tonight," I said with a sigh. Albus was my boyfriend for a total of two months which was certainly a record for me.

James snickered at that and asked, "Did you break my little brother's heart? I did tell him you probably will."

I thought about his question and felt the tiniest stab of guilt. Maybe I let it go on for too long before I broke it off.

"Of course I didn't! Al knows me and he was fine with, you know...me...," I trailed off.

"Merlin, did he break yours? I'll kill him if he did!" James' face was one of bewilderment and confusion as he looked at me with wide eyes.

"You know he couldn't," I replied with an eye roll. I was surprised he'd even think that.

"Why not?" He propped himself up on his elbows so he was looking down at me as he asked the question.

"Because I don't have a heart, James," I stuck out my tongue at him.

"Nice comeback, Quinn. So...why did you leave him? When did this even happen because I don't remember you missing any part of your party?"

I made a face. "What's with the third degree? It's not like you don't already know."

He plopped down on the bed again. I could see he was having a hard time between being my friend and being worried about his brother, however hard he tried to hide it. Al might be cool as the Giant Squid but James loved his siblings and he didn't like it when something was wrong with them.

I squeezed his hand in the hopes it would make him feel better. He squeezed back.

"We snuck out for a little while when you were doing your Gandalf impression," I said and winked at him, "but, unfortunately for Al, he and I had quite different things in mind when we snuck out."

"It wouldn't have been fair to stay with him. It was fun but he decided he wanted to talk about us and his feelings for me so I cut him off. This thing with him was just ... me passing time. Feelings didn't really have anything to do with it and you know it."

As I said this, James turned on his side, gave me an intense look and hugged me to him. We lay like that for a while in silence. I could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating and it was soothing. The tiny pangs of guilt I felt about Al disappeared.

After what seemed like an eternity I could hear him as he whispered in my hair, "I know everything about you."

"Yeah. You do."

I woke up in James' bed the next day. The sunlight was streaming in through the window and I had to blink a few times to get adjusted to the light. James was still asleep with his arm around me. Waking up in his bed was not unfamiliar but remembering that just the night before I broke up with his brother made me realise it wouldn't look good if one of his family members happened upon us right now no matter how many times we had sleepovers before.

So I did what any sensible girl would do. I forcefully woke up James by alternatively poking him, whisper-yelling at him and tickling him until something of the three yielded results.

He had a grin on his face when he woke up.

"Happy birthday, Quinn."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that already. Now get up and Apparate me home!" I'll have to take the Apparition test soon now that I turned seventeen. James passed his a few weeks ago.

"Bloody woman, why are you so bossy?"

I frowned at him.

"I like things being done a certain way. Stop talking and turning around in a confused state so we can get going. I'd prefer it if you could bring me to my room but I guess the vicinity of my house would be good enough," I got up as I said this with a small smile and took both the vinyl and the photograph.

He made a pouty face and put a hand over his heart, "Are you suggesting I wouldn't be able to Apparate accurately? You deserve to be splinched!"

"You wouldn't splinch me! You like me too much," I smirked at him.

"Naah, I think I should after that insult. Maybe just a small splinch to teach you a lesson...how about your pinkie? Or your ear? Hm...," he touched my ear like he was seriously considering this and then he started tickling me. I was seriously ticklish and I just prayed to Merlin he'd stop soon or I'd start shrieking and probably cause the whole house to wake up.

Finally, he stopped but he had me pinned on the floor. He looked at me intensely like he was trying to figure out a particularly hard Arithmancy assignment but he soon changed his expression to a teasing one.

"Say I'm the best at Apparition!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. He knew I was defeated.

"You're the best at Apparition, James. Can we get on with it now?"

As I said that everything went black and I felt the pressure all around me. Soon it was over and we were on my bed in the same position as before, with me pinned down under James.

I wiggled under him, "Get off, you hippogriff, I'm trying to breathe here!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he smirked, again.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. But seriously, I need to -," I was cut off by a huge ball of grey fluff jumping on top of James causing him to literally stop my breathing with his body as he collapsed on top of me from shock.

"Argh," was the only sound I could make.

James rolled off me and fell on the floor with the ball of grey fluff, namely, my cat Ziggy, staring at him viciously and hissing. I guess Ethan and grandad forgot to feed him. And by feed him I mean refill his bowl when it was half full (Ziggy would probably call it half empty because he's a pessimist like that).

Looking at Ziggy with a slightly horrified expression, James turned to me and said, "Quinn, I said this already and I'll say it again, but your cat is psychotic!"

I tentatively extended my hand towards Ziggy so I could try and pet him but he jumped off my bed in a huff and threw me a scornful look as he stood next to his half-full bowl.

Such theatrics.

"He's not psychotic, he just doesn't like anyone. Or anything. Well, he sometimes likes me but I'm sure that's just because he sees me as a constant food source. And he liked you that one time when he allowed you to pet him!" I felt the need to defend Ziggy even though he was a little bit, well, evil. Sometimes. I adopted him from a Muggle shelter nearby three years ago when he was just a tiny kitten. Even as a kitten he wasn't particularly friendly and his first adopted family brought him back to the shelter because of it.

James got up and gave him a few cat treats I had on my desk. Ziggy purred at that. I could swear he smiled. But cats don't smile. They do love bribes, apparently, because Ziggy allowed James to pet him for a second before prancing over to my window and jumping on the sill to look at the birds flying around a nearby oak tree.

"You're coming over later, right?" I asked, "Everyone is going to be there for lunch, even mum and dad, but they're leaving tonight because they both have practice tomorrow morning. We could do a movie marathon."

James sat down next to me on the bed and bumped my shoulder, "Of course I'm coming over. What kind of a birthday evening would it be without me?"

I smiled gratefully at him and hugged him, "Great!"

He stood up and said, "See you soon, Quinn," before Disapparating with a quiet pop.

Looking around my room, I realised I seriously needed to tidy up because the only remotely neat things in here were my Quidditch kit and my record collection. My school trunk was still sitting relatively unpacked even though I was going back to Hogwarts in two weeks and my clothes were in two different piles, the clean one near my closet and the dirty one on the floor next to my bed. I wasn't usually this messy, and grandad surely wouldn't tolerate it under normal circumstances, but I've been spending almost all my time at the Potters' house during the last few days so he turned a blind eye. He had a soft spot for me. Feeling lucky I could finally use magic outside of school I decided to try my hand at some of those household spells I've seen grandad using after I've had breakfast.

After changing into something I dug out of the clean clothes pile and filling Ziggy's bowl, I tied my dark hair into a messy bun and went downstairs. I could hear my grandad in the kitchen, hopefully making breakfast, and talking with somebody.

"Good morning," I said as I entered the kitchen. Immediately I could see my dad's face in the kitchen fireplace. Grandad turned around and they both exclaimed, in weirdly similar voices, "Quinn, love!"

Grandad came over and engulfed me in one of his bear hugs, "Happy birthday, my favourite granddaughter!"

"I'm your only granddaughter!"

I could hear dad alternating between yelling birthday wishes and singing the birthday song in a horribly off-tune voice. He could be really silly sometimes. Or all the time. He liked to say he got hit one too many times in the head with a Bludger but that wasn't even close to the truth.

"Dad, please stop, I just woke up," I said with a yawn.

He just snickered, "Don't lie, dad told me James just brought you home so you've been awake for at least half an hour."

I threw my grandad a look and muttered, "How in the seven hells did you even hear us, James' Apparating is freakishly quiet?"

Grinning, he just said, "Magic." He turned around and continued frying the omelette he was making when I interrupted.

"Quinn, I've got to go because practice starts soon and the Captain can't be late. I love you and I'll see you at lunch," dad said with a sad expression, which in turn made my grin disappear. I was hoping to at least exchange more than two sentences with him. I couldn't blame him really. Being a Captain of the Ballycastle Bats and also a Chaser on the English National Quidditch Team meant he had very little time for family. But he was living the life I hoped I would someday so I was quick to forgive and forget.

"Love you, dad," I said as I gave him my best smile and waved at him. His head disappeared from the fireplace. My grandad was muttering something to himself, but since I didn't have his unnatural hearing, I couldn't decipher what he was saying. He looked a bit angry.

I sat on the barstool at our kitchen island while I waited for him to finish breakfast.

"Did mum Floo while I was in my room?"

He turned around and put a plate full of food in front of me, "No, but you know she's as busy as Dylan is."

I rolled my eyes at that, "Oh yeah, she's so fucking busy she can't even Floo to wish me a happy birthday."

Grandad frowned and said, "That's the life of a professional Quidditch player. Your parents love you and they try their best...," he trailed off, "But I have no bloody idea what would've become of you and Ethan if I wasn't here."

"Right. We would've probably dropped dead."

"I was thinking more in the line of both of you becoming completely wild and untameable. It's not like you're much better even with me here."

I made a face. Grandad was one of those people that can't help being blunt. As I munched on my food, I realised Ethan wasn't here.

"Where's Ethan, anyway?" I asked.

Grandad shrugged his shoulders, "I expect he's at his flat."

"But he's never at his flat...unless he has a girl there!" I was grinning at this. I loved to tease Ethan's girls because he usually had a type. I don't know how, but he always managed to end up with one who didn't believe in one night stands (even though she just had a one night stand with him) and quickly became more and more crazy as the morning after dragged on. Though I wondered who the hell would go off with my brother out of the Weasley girls (I knew it wasn't Lily Potter since she was way too young). I couldn't remember seeing him with anyone in particular last night, but then again, some parts of the party were a little hazy.

"I know what you're thinking, Quinn, and I have no idea who the girl is. I always mix up all those Weasleys anyway," grandad said this with a huge smirk on his face. Even though he never looked at another woman after my grandma died, he fully supported Ethan in his conquests. He also supported me in mine. I guess he was pretty supportive.

"So, what's the plan for today?" I knew it would be pointless to ask for my presents right now because it was tradition to do a family birthday lunch and then get presents. The fact that birthdays are one of the rare days we're all in the same place at the same time makes them extra special.

"Your dad is going to cook and your mum is baking the cake and I'll finally have some well-deserved respite from all the cooking around here," he said this as he sipped his black coffee. Grandad woke up crazy early every day and by the time I got up he'd already spent half a day doing his thing. But he liked to keep me company while I ate. I think he was pretty lonely while I was at Hogwarts and that's why he didn't mind the fact that my twenty-four-year-old brother spent most of his time here instead of at his own flat.

Grandad looked at me teasingly, "So, what did your boyfriend get you? I don't want to know if it's anything that has to do with shagging."

I almost choked on the last piece of my omelette.

"You're fine talking to me about shagging but don't want to know the details. Got it, thanks grandad, that wasn't embarrassing at all."

He just laughed at me. Wonderful.

"Sometimes I think I'd be better off if you or Ethan were even a little embarrassed about your escapades but then I remember I'm the cool grandad and the thought quickly disappears. So, what did Al get you?"

"You're our only grandad!" I exclaimed.

I never met my mother's parents. They were Muggles and she talked about them a lot. Said they were free spirits which I understood to be a bit weird and unconventional and made me feel sorry I never met them. They died a pretty conventional death, though. They were going to a Black Sabbath concert on their bikes and a driver who fell asleep at the wheel crashed into them. Sad story.

"Al got me concert tickets to see Sons of Tyr in February and he's not my boyfriend anymore," I said, not meeting his eyes. He liked Al. Grandad, Ethan and Al had that Slytherin brotherhood going for them.

I'm not sure why I didn't meet his eyes because grandad is always on my side. He just shrugged his shoulders, "Another one bites the dust, eh? Ethan owes me 20 Galleons!"

"You bet on my relationship?" I was more amused than surprised.

"Can you even call it a relationship if it lasts for just a few weeks?"

"Few weeks! It lasted for two months. Give or take."

He laughed at me again. I love it when people laugh at me. Not. Maybe being a stand-up comedian should be my backup if I fail at professional Quidditch. But I'm honestly not that funny.

"It lasted exactly six weeks, I should know since I bet on it."

I stood up and washed my plate for the first time using magic. I could get used to this. We never had house elves or nannies or anything like that because grandad was a firm believer in doing things on your own so you don't become spoiled and incompetent. I'm not convinced he succeeded in not spoiling me but eh, at least I could wash my own plate.

Spending my birthday cleaning my room wasn't ideal but I really couldn't stand the mess any longer. I put the Sons of Tyr LP James got me on my turntable and started. By the time I was finished, I managed to find two T-shirts I thought lost forever and one of Ziggy's favourite toys. After taking a shower I heard two distinct pops. I ran out of my room and down the stairs until I finally saw my parents after I don't know how many weeks of only communicating by owl or through the fireplace.

"Quinn! Happy birthday, honey!" My mum hugged me and I forgot about my annoyance with her from this morning. I missed her. I missed my dad.

"Hey mum, dad," I mumbled because I couldn't talk like a normal person since my dad decided that a group hug was in order so I was pretty much getting crushed between the two of them. Dad towered above both me and my mum and she was pretty strong for her slight Seeker build.

They finally released me and I grinned at them.

"Nice of you two to show up," I said with a wink. They started talking over one another trying to explain their busy lives and I had to stop them before they started arguing because that's how these things usually end.

"Stop, stop! I was just kidding, Merlin's pants!" As I said this grandad came into the living room.

"Son, Ivy, good to see you."

Mum turned towards him and hugged him. I don't know why but she likes to give out hugs.

"Ian! How are you? Did everything go alright yesterday? Is...," and off she went with the questions about everything. I tuned out. Dad was already in the kitchen starting with the meal and mum soon joined him. I kept them company. We chattered about my party and Ethan and even Al, though apparently, they thought I was kidding back when I told them in a letter we were together. I have no idea why.

Sometime while they were cooking, we heard a loud crack and Ethan entered the kitchen. Mum immediately attacked him with questions about his job, his (lack of a) girlfriend (at this I sniggered) and so on. I gave him a sympathetic look.

After the lunch was over it was time for my presents at last. Dad gave me a small silver box.

"This is from your mother and me," he said. I opened it and found a watch inside. It was black instead of gold, with silver Roman numerals and stars instead of dials. It would've been quite traditional (except for the material) had it not been for the engraving on the back - Fuck Fear, which was something of a Jones family motto, and yet, only dad and I were Gryffindors, and grandma Olivia, too, but she was killed by a dragon so I'm not sure fearlessness was to her benefit.

Dad was just about to say something else when mum cut him off, "You better like it, Quinn. I swear we bickered for the past month until we settled on the design we thought you'd like. So even if you don't like it, pretend that you do and wear it for our benefit, and I don't care how ridiculous that sounds," she drew a breath and continued, "You like it, right?" she said this with a slightly psycho-looking smile.

Ethan was trying not to laugh, grandad was smoking his pipe and pretending not to listen to her, or maybe he wasn't pretending, he liked to tune her out sometimes, and dad looked exasperated.

"Yeah, I like it, thanks!" I nodded my head up and down as I tried to be as enthusiastic as possible because mum was still psycho-smiling. I did like it but she was a crazy perfectionist who couldn't stand the thought of something being, well, not perfect. If it wasn't then she'd go off on a tangent and yeah...We learned to live with it.

Ethan took out a pair of blood red Quidditch gloves from his bag and shoved them at me.

"Here you go, little demon. They're dragon hide gloves, Vipertooth model, tailored for Beaters so they'll give you a little extra kick when you swing the bat -"

He was interrupted by a wolf Patronus that appeared in our dining room. It spoke in a voice I haven't heard before but it was obviously familiar to Ethan.

"Jones, we need you at HQ right now, bring your heavy-duty kit," as soon as the wolf said this, it disappeared.

Ethan got up from the table and gave me a small smile, "Duty calls, little demon, but I hope you'll make good use of my present. I'll see you all later." He turned on the spot and Disapparated with a crack.

Mum looked slightly worried but she quickly masked her expression. She was too proud to admit she worried constantly about all of us, especially Ethan since he worked as a Hit Wizard, but we all knew it. That's why grandad kept most of my Quidditch injuries a secret from her. She'd go mad with worry and she'd feel guilty for not being there. Dad was slightly more reasonable, or he was just very good at keeping up the appearance of being cool all the time.

"He's going to be alright, Ivy," dad said this as he covered mum's hand with his own and she nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I know...Merlin, is that the time? I have to be back in Appleby for the afternoon practice," she rolled her eyes at that. "Bloody Orlov is convinced I'm giving out team secrets to Dylan. I fucking hate that guy, why the fuck did they make him Captain instead of me? I'm the fucking better strategist, that's fucking obvious..."

Luckily, grandad decided to interrupt her before she could go on another rant about Ivan Orlov, one of the best Keepers in the League and my mum's Captain.

"I'll clear the table," he said as he waved his wand around and all the dirty dishes followed him out of the dining room.

Dad was suddenly very interested in the gloves Ethan got me and I pretended I was interested in my new watch.

"Okay, I'll stop talking about Orlov, I get the message. You lot aren't exactly subtle," she glared at us as she said this. "I still do need to go. Quinn, I love you and I'll see you before you go back to school," she narrowed her eyes as she turned to dad, "and you, I'll see you tonight." I couldn't decipher if that was a booty call or if she was angry at him about something. It was probably both.

"Ahem, hm, yeah, right, okay," dad was red in the face. For a star Quidditch player who dealt with journalists all the time, he was painfully unable to hide his feelings. It made his interviews funny to read because he'd often get angry and start hexing the journalist who did the interview. More often than not, the journalist in question was Rita Skeeter. She held a huge grudge against him after he turned her into a toad one time.

"I'm going, too, sorry Quinn but you know, I've got that fundraiser later. We'll see each other soon, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Grandad came back from the kitchen and looked around, "They're gone, then?"

I nodded. He frowned.

"You still haven't seen the present I got you, come on, it's in my study," he put an arm around my shoulders and guided me to his study room. It was bright with diffuse light that came in through the big glass double door facing the north side of my parents' property and overlooking the Quidditch pitch grandad put up shortly after five-year-old me zoomed past him on a toy broom while he was gardening. We lived in a small wooded area near Bath and grandad put a lot of Muggle repelling charms around the property so they wouldn't stumble upon us, especially with the Quidditch pitch being obviously out of place.

He opened his closet, took out a broom and gave it to me. I nearly jumped from joy when I saw it but I managed to keep my cool and just hugged him tightly.

"The Stormwind! It's not even in the stores yet!" The broom was black, made from world-class ebony with numerous protective and aerodynamic spells woven into it. It was going to be the fastest broom on the market, faster by five seconds than the newest model Thunderbolt. But it wasn't the speed that was its prime characteristic, it was the incredible balance it provided. The Stormwind was the only broom in the world that adapted to its rider and the spell that made it so was the best-kept secret in the Quidditch world. Rumour had it that Selene Zhang, the Stormwind designer, didn't even reveal the secret to her board of directors.

"Selene is a close friend," grandad said it like it was no big deal.

"I didn't even know you knew her. How do you know her?" I asked.

"How did you not know that her mother was one of my best players in the Tornados?" He was genuinely surprised.

"Jessica? I don't know, I don't keep tabs on players after they retire. But anyway, thanks grandad, you know it's like, the best present ever, right up there with James'."

"Yeah, well, don't just count on your fancy new broom to win the Quidditch cup," he said gruffly, "you still need to practice your Backbeat!"

I grinned at him and teasingly said, "My Backbeat is going to be better than yours!"

"I expect nothing less."

I was alone at home when James came over in the evening. Grandad went out with his friends down to the pub and Ethan was still MIA. We were now lounging in the living room contemplating which movie marathon we were going to have. Both James and I were big fans of Muggle movies.

James was sitting on the fluffy white carpet and playing with my hair that fell down the sofa since I was lying down. Ziggy was sleeping on the armchair.

"So, Lord of the Rings or The Godfather?" he asked.

"Don't make me choose, you know I'm indecisive as hell."

"The Godfather, then. We haven't watched that in a while. Pancakes or popcorn?"

"James, you're trying to make me choose something again!"

"Both?" he chuckled.

"James Potter, you are brilliant!" I beamed at him and got up from the sofa. He followed me to the kitchen. James was terrible at cooking so I waved my wand and the ingredients for the pancake batter started to stir in a bowl. I sat up on the kitchen island he was leaning against.

"How was lunch with your family?" he asked me. I showed him the presents my family got me as soon as he Apparated. He was just as excited as I was by the fact that I now had the Stormwind. He even said he'll ask his parents to buy him one when it hit the market even though they just recently bought him the new Firebolt. Lily can have the Firebolt, apparently.

"Eh, okay, but I think my mum made a booty call to my dad in front of me."

James raised his brows, "Lucky Dylan!"

"Ew, what? That's my mum!" I made a disgusted face at him but he just wiggled his eyebrows.

"Says the girl who shagged my little brother for the past two months."

That shut me up. I took out the pancake pan and turned on the stove. When the pan heated up, I started frying the pancakes in silence. James came over from behind me and hugged me around the waist.

"I was just kidding, Quinn, don't be angry at me," he said in a low voice. I turned my head so I could look him in the eyes and smiled at him. That seemed to reassure him.

"I'm not angry, I'm just plotting my revenge!" He grinned at that and kissed my cheek.

"Okay."

In the middle of the third movie, Ethan Apparated in the living room which made me scream since I wasn't expecting it and, more importantly, because he was covered in blood. I rushed over to him, James following with a troubled look. Ethan just waved us away.

"Not my blood," his breath smelled of Firewhisky and his words sounded slightly slurred, "let me just get another Firewhisky before I crash."

James threw me a look and I just shrugged my shoulders. He went over to the fridge and brought the bottle of Firewhisky with three glasses. James and I settled on the sofa and Ethan on the armchair with Ziggy who promptly woke up, hissed at Ethan, jumped off and left to another corner of the room.

We drank in silence, neither I nor James knowing what to say. Ethan wasn't volunteering any information and there was no point in trying to pry it from him. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't talk.

After another three glasses, Ethan got up and went to his old room.

James put his hand around me and I leaned my head against his shoulder. I think I fell asleep in that position because I woke up in my bed in the middle of the night and James was lying next to me with his arm laid protectively around me.

It felt reassuring to have him here.

#harry potter fanfiction #hp #james sirius potter #harry potter #the art of being nonchalant

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