#I did buy two books that I was interested in plus they were affordable

[gatheryepens]

Books are really expensive here lmao...

[moon-silvered]

Dancing in the Moonlight: 01

Posted on: Ao3

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!TelepathReader

Wordcount: 4k

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Genre: Fluff, First Date, Telepathic Reader

Summary: Telepathic!Reader is reeling from sensing an unworldly presence in loyal bookshop customer Steven Grant when he asks Reader on a date. 

You don’t think anything’s weird with him the first time you meet Steven Grant. He’s another customer with a special interest in Egypt given the books he buys. Not unusual, especially not when you find out he works at the British Museum near the Egyptian exhibition. Makes sense he’d buy the books he does from a little bookseller and rare book procurer. The amount of money he dishes out for them is a little worrying, and you briefly wonder how he can afford it but it’s not your business. You really do try to ignore the mental nattering that goes on in most people’s heads.  You had after all made an oath to not go snooping into stranger’s minds with your ability. 

The second time, that’s when you think there’s something off.  It was harder not to go eavesdropping with Steven Grant. It was like he was projecting his very thoughts. Or maybe, they were louder, it was difficult to really explain.  

But it’s the third time, when you focus on his thoughts and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, you know for sure there’s something off with him.  There’s something– someone else there. An undercurrent voice beneath his thoughts humming along. Not sinister, not benevolent, but wholly extraterrestrial and unhuman. It gave you a migraine to focus on it and you had to take your break early. 

You all but collapse onto the fountain’s ledge, hand to your temple as you try to rub the migraine away.  You’re shaking from the pain made worse by the cacophony of thoughts swirling in the square but it was better than the intensity of what-whomever you had bumped into in Steven Grant’s mind. 

You’re staring at the ground when the aural distortions pulse and intensify as a pair of shoes stop right in front of you.  You look up and he’s there.

“You alright? You look a bit...”

You’re trying very hard not to look, not to listen to what’s going on behind those eyes, behind that brow but it was like telling someone to stop feeling the temperature. Still, you grit your teeth and smile, imagining a coat on your mind to keep out the cold wind. 

“Yeah, ju-just a migraine.” You helplessly stutter and then close your eyes, hoping that would help. It won’t of course. You knew it wouldn’t because it never has. 

“Ah, I’m sorry. If you want, I c-can – I mean if you think you need it. I’ve got–” He fumbles as he pulls a Tesco bag from his other bag.  You watch as he pulls out at first caffeine tablets – the kind people take to stay awake. You used to take them in your university days because they were legal, as opposed to the pharmaceuticals your American mates did to achieve the same. Then Steven pulled out a nuromol bottle. 

“That’s convenient.” 

“Was just at Tescos, yeah.” He explains and holds out the bottle. 

You stare at it and decide it couldn’t hurt. Plus it might make him walk away faster and take whatever presence was in his head far from you. 

You struggle to open the bottle, so he does and hands you a single tablet but you hold out your palm for two. 

“Says to take one,” he explains in a sing song way, like he’s going to tattle, but he’s already tabbing one more out. You catch wind of a stray thought of his. One never works for me either, wish they’d give us the stronger stuff without a script. You get a mental image of him downing twice the recommended caffeine tablets to stave off his sleep. 

You don’t say anything about it, instead you down the tablets and chase em with water. “Cheers, mate.” You fully expected him to walk away after that, but he lingers. 

His fingers grip tight and loosen around his recent book purchases and his mouth moves silently as though he’s working himself up to say something. “I noticed you were reading– well I happened to glance at the book you put down when I came in, yeah? and see I work at the Museum near the Egypt exhibit-“

“I know.” You interrupt him.. 

“You do?”

“You told me.” You state but then quickly doubt yourself. Had he told you? Or was that a fact you picked out from thoughts he had in his head? You think it’s the latter now, especially as his face contorts into confusion. “I-mean I must have heard you mention it to my boss or something.” You wave your hand, trying to be dismissive.  It mollifies him far too much. Why?

You regret it instantly, but you loosen the mental coat a bit to hear.  Thought I lost time again. Your head swirls around that presence again and you wince away. 

“So. I was wondering, if you’re curious about Egyptian gods, I could- we could- if you’re not busy- meet for dinner - or lunch. Yeah, lunch?” He manages out, second guessing every other sentence. 

You stare at him, really stare and finally it clicks. You hadn’t even realized it, too preoccupied with the pain of hearing his thoughts and feeling the presence.  “Are you chatting me up?” It’s a rhetorical question because as soon as you say it, you get confirmation from his thoughts in the form of:  I should have practiced more. She’s probably already seeing someone. Along with those thoughts is a teeth chattering sinister breeze of that being – like it’s trying to push you away.

You would have gone fleeing, if not for the indignant rebellion that roared at whomever was in his mind that wanted you gone. And, though you’ll never admit this to anyone, the way Steven looked deflated like a kicked puppy.

“Sure.” 

The puppy analogy was too spot on, because his eyes brighten and widen in surprise. Even his smile is infectious and makes your lips lift to mirror his. And oddly enough some of the pain ebbs away, though it could be the nuromol. You’d swear it’s the latter to anyone who asks.

You set a time and place at a little restaurant, not too fancy but definitely not a place to show up in ratty jeans.  You do a bit of gloss and dab some eyeliner on for a smokey-eyed look but you wipe it away when you feel ridiculous with it on and say “Sod it” and go off. 

It’d been years since your last date, you were out of practice. Not that you wanted to be well versed in dating. It was tiresome when you could hear their disingenuous thoughts as they tried to flatter you. Not to mention it was difficult to talk about yourself without hearing every judgmental thought cross their mind for everything you said, wore, and did. At first it made you self conscious, like you had to please them on every thought, until you got fed up, angry, and at times indignant. 

For a time you used your ability to your advantage to get right into the sheets to scratch an itch, but that made you feel worse than when you took their passing thoughts to heart. So you didn’t do that again, at least not intentionally. 

Steven meets you in the courtyard outside the bookshop with a bouquet of flowers. He’s got an awkward nervous smile that suits him. And you can admit it’s kind of endearing, especially paired with the way those dark eyes are glued to you as you approach. His gaze doesn’t do a body check, and instead they remain respectfully – gentlemanly – on your face.  You smile brighter from that alone but all out swooned when the traces of his thoughts reach  you. She’s beautiful. How did I ever manage to ask her with that smile? Always loved her smile, greeting me every time. I’m so lucky. Don’t muck it up. Accompanied by a nervous gulp.

You wish you could assuage his nerves, but that would mean revealing your ability. You hadn’t had the best luck in that. People didn’t exactly find it comforting when they knew you knew every thought that passed their mind. 

You step up to him, mentally prepared for the pain of the foreign presence to try to push you away but surprisingly there was none. The presence was present; now that you knew to look for it. You weren’t sure how you never noticed it before whenever Steven came by. It was so obvious. Perhaps you never cared to look closer until he lingered longer than was prudent at your register.  

You grab the bouquet and glance over the carefully picked flowers. You notice your favorite as a center piece. You look up to his expectant look. “These are lovely. How did you know they’re my favorite?”

“I smelled your perfume.” A second too late he realized how bad that sounded and winced. “That is-I mean you always have them in the bookshop, by your counter. You’re always smiling when you come in with a fresh bouquet. Not that I watched- I mean I did but only- ah.”

Ever the skeptic, you take a look in his head – fighting the presence. Memories flit by of him walking into the bookstore, watching you as you run the till, aggravated over annoying customers only to smell the flowers you kept nearby to relax.  Then memories of Steven paging through flower books, to find the name of them, reading a book on flower language, then looking up and calling local flower shops. 

The entire time you looked, the presence makes a go at you. They’re a torrential gust of wind pushing you away and you almost stagger but hold on until it finally wrenches you away. 

You take a step back, breathless. 

“Sorry, I know, it’s weird. I swear I wasn’t stalking- though now that I say it makes it sound like I did. But I promise you, I only happened to notice and you really seemed to like them and I wanted to get you something you’d like.” He rambled. 

“Steven.” Your voice is soft and you step back toward him and place a hand on his arm over the sleeves of his jacket, in active rebellion against the presence. It roared, attempting to push you away again. And while it could from Steven’s mind, it had no bearing on your physical body. Except of course for the pain, but you could live through it tonight. Anything to spite the being.  “I love them.” You reassure Steven. If he really was a puppy his tail would be wagging quickly with how enthused and happy he looked.

You walk to the restaurant together under the afternoon sun.  Steven talks about the meaning of the flowers, which you already know from his mind but you let him go on as he explains the history and varying meanings and uses of the flowers he picked. Not in a showy mansplaining I-know-more-than-you way, but in a I’m-genuinely-excited-to-share-this-knowledge way. It was endearing. 

As he talks about the things he found interesting in reading and researching it – his mind is resolute, confident. Yet shatters when you get to the restaurant, and Steven ceases talking. 

“Oh my god. I’m an absolute git, I’ve been talking your ear off, not letting you get a word in.” He looks at you in horror. 

“I like listening to you talk.” You pat his arm with a genuine smile. He returns it and the presence in his mind seems to withdraw.  That was odd. 

The hostess takes you to a table for two. Steven is quiet as he pulls out the chair for you. It makes you chuckle and you sit opposite him. 

You order your drinks and platters. Steven orders from the vegan options, which you take note until you catch onto one of the ingredients.

“Oh that has peanuts.” You mutter, with a forced frown trying to hide a mischievous grin. 

Steven looks up and blanches. “I didn’t think to ask. Are you allergic? I can order something else.” He is about to call the waitress back but now you’re smiling. 

“Only mildly allergic. You can order it. Just means I definitely can’t kiss you later if I want to.” You’re joking of course. You definitely could kiss him later but you’d have to wash your mouth out. It was a joke that had the intended effect. 

Steven’s mouth opens and closes in shock as his cheeks darken, throat bobbing nervously. “So-sorry wha- no I can-“ his voices cracks. “I can change the order.” He rushes out and then raises his hand to call the waitress back. You laugh and grab it, intending on bringing it down to the table – completely forgetting a cardinal rule to your abilities. 

Never make skin to skin contact unless you’re ready. And you needed to be, especially with all the weirdness already with Steven. 

The presence is sentient, bearing down from behind Steven. It’s tall, with a floating bird skull as a head and body dressed in strips of floating cloth bandages with gold moon adornments while leaning against a staff. And the pressure, that same gust of wind in your mind is howling, rushing at you like a tornado and you let go of Steven’s hand the moment that thing looks at you with a skull tilt. 

Steven is looking behind him confused as you stare at the spot it had inhabited. “You alright?” 

Does he not know it’s there? 

You look at him and back to the spot, your breath heaving and you nod. “Yeah…um.” You grasp for an explanation. “Must’ve seen a spider.” It feels like a lame excuse, especially because you love spiders. But you do not want to have this conversation.  Not on the first date. 

Were you seriously going on with this date after seeing that? 

With the way Steven looks at you, worried and hopeful, and the nervous insecure chatter bleeding from inside his head? 

Yes you were.

The date gets better from there. He asks what interested you about Egyptian gods, and he’s flummoxed to learn it was him. There’s a moment where his mind spins about whether you did that intentionally to catch his interest. Sadly you reveal it was something you did to repeat customers, that if they were that invested in the topic – then it would make for good reading during down time. Which led to him asking what other books you read and which customers inspired it. Leading to a long list of stories. 

“I read about em, so I have something to say when they come in.” You explain with a shrug. “Gets boring being a cashier, even in a bookshop.”

“I know what you mean.” Steven sighs. 

You laugh. “You work in the museum as a tour guide! That doesn’t sound boring to me.”

Steven looks embarrassed now. “I…well, I auditioned for the tour guide.” She doesn’t know I work in the gift shop. His voice and mind has a sort of sound like wounded pride. 

“Oh. Sorry I just…I thought.” You’re left without words. You hadn’t expected that he could keep that sort of information from you, or from his thoughts.  Clearly he found it too embarrassing to even think about except when confronted with it. “You know what, your boss is a sodding fool for not taking you on then.” 

Steven gives you a half smile. 

You almost reach for his hand, but pause. “Just means we have a lot more in common. Both of us under appreciated and stuck on the till when we got so much more to offer.”

Steven huffs a laugh but nods. “More time to read, I suppose.”

“Or go on more dates.” You counter. Why did you say that?! You can’t take it back now. You couldn’t but want to see Steven in brighter spirits. And besides, he’s not bad. Friendly, knowledgeable, easy to fluster, and he was handsome too, in an insecure kind of way. It’s the way he holds himself, with hunched shoulders so he takes up as little room as possible with his gaze down and clothes that were high quality but clearly he felt uncomfortable in them. 

“S-sorry…dates? Plural?” Steven’s eyes are wide with that shimmer of hope. 

“Unless you don’t want to?”

Steven trips over his own tongue “I do! I mean I would love to go on anoth- more…dates.” He over emphasizes the s. You couldn’t help but laugh. It’s a boisterous sound, that has him grinning and then also laughing. And it’s like something is knocked loose in his shoulders. They aren’t so tense, they’re relaxed.  I didn’t mess it up, like usual. I’m not a failure. 

Your heart breaks a little for this beautiful man, to feel the relief in his thoughts. You decide far too quickly, you don’t ever want to make him tense up again. 

After Steven regaled you about Egyptian tales that you had yet to read about, and you commiserate over your shared experience working in customer support, he walks you back to the bookshop. There’s a moment, a hopeful one from him. You know it’s about a kiss. He did end up changing his order for something without peanuts. 

You hadn’t been kidding about giving him a kiss if it went well but you were faltering now. Kissing him would mean skin to skin contact.  And you hadn’t touched him for the rest of the night on purpose. And the presence was still there, but it wasn’t pushing or throwing waves of mental gusts to get you to leave. But the very feel of it so close was difficult to bear. 

If you kissed Steven, would you see it? You weren’t even sure what it was. 

Still, you step closer. He doesn’t have to look too far down to meet your gaze. 

“Thank you for lunch.” You murmur and he touches your hand.  It’s intimate, more so than a kiss with the way his fingers lace with yours. The warmth of his fingers

She doesn’t have to kiss me if she doesn’t want to.  You hear, clear as day from his mind before he says it softly. She was only having a laug-

You interrupt that thought by pressing your lips to his. His body is frigid in shock and then melts. It’s not a searing kiss, not the stuff of movies, and certainly not raunchy- they’re in a public square for goodness sake! Your noses bump against each other and he has to step closer to you aren’t craning your neck, but he’s smiling even with a close lipped kiss. It’s chaste, and sweet and he pulls away with an unintended promise and taste of more when he licks his lips and yours before. 

You’re the one who is flustered this time. 

“I-“ you’re swallowing and touching your lips with your fingertips, like you cannot believe you did that. “I had a lovely time, Steven.”

And then, he says your name. Only it’s different from all the other times he has this entire lunch date. It’s softer, vulnerable, and with yearning. You want nothing more than to hug him, but you don’t. 

Later when you’re home, you feel completely exhausted. A migraine had worked it’s way up to your temple from the strain of the presence around a Steven. Because even in the kiss, it had tried to push you away, not that you paid it any mind. But now that you’re home you don’t quite care as you’re floating from the euphoria. You hadn’t expected to enjoy the date as well you did.

You pick up your phone and start to text but stop several times before committing to a bit:

You: I would like to submit a review on my experience tonight. 

You watch the icon indicating he is texting start and stop repeatedly before stopping for a long time until an hour later.

Steven: Oh?

You roll your eyes, having a feeling he agonized over what to write back the entire time only to send a one syllabic response. 

You: yeah. a little thing I wrote up just now. 

Steven: Was there something wrong at the restaurant? Was it the spider?

You: nothing wrong with the restaurant. Want to read?

There’s a long pause in his reply, before a simply “Sure” came through.  With a grin, you hit enter. 

You: Went on a date with one Steven Grant, Pros: exceptional conversationalist, puppy dog eyes that make you melt, warm hands. Cons: not very food allergy conscious, kissing skill needs work.  7 out of 10. Would date again.  Does management have any thoughts? 

There’s a flurry of the icon indicating he’s typing popping up and disappearing repeatedly. Then he’s typing for a long time. Too long. You wonder if he’s writing a book or just editing his message over and over again. He seemed the type. 

Steven: Thank you for your input.  I will take it into consideration and review so I can better service you

Steven: ah, wait I hit send too fast!

You: service me huh? That’s some can do attitude. 

Steven: that’s not what I meant!!!

You: are you sure? Because I’m down. 

Steven: !!! You! Let me finish!

You laugh, imagining how warm his cheeks might be as you wait. 

Steven: I will take your input into consideration and review so I can PROVIDE better service to you. At your earliest convenience when might we offer you a more satisfying experience? 

You: I think a more satisfying experience isn’t necessary but a change in venue and activity might improve the rating. It is calculated in an aggregate, not average, manner. So how about a movie? Say this Thursday evening? 

There’s a long, long time before Steven answers but when he does, it’s adorable and you press your face into your pillow with a girlish giggle. 

Steven: If I sneak in the snacks, will I lose or gain points on my review?

You: gain, obviously. Sleight of hand means you’re likely good with your hands in other aspects. Or so I hear. 

Steven: agshekt

Steven: sorry! I dropped my phone. 

Steven: I will bring the snacks then. Meet at the bookshop after your shift?

You: keeping track of when my shifts are? Kind of suspicious there, Grant. Maybe you are a stalker after all. 

There’s no answer for a long time. Not even the typing icon lights up. Maybe you went too far there and he was panicking. So you decide to have mercy on him. 

Frowning, you type a few words, stop then decide to call him instead. He doesn’t pick up the first or second ring but he does on the third. 

“Hello?” There’s a tentativeness in Steven’s voice and you can hear it. 

“Hey. So we’re still on for the movies right?” You ignore your last message sent. You don’t even want to think of it. 

“We are?” Steven asks and then sighs. “I thought maybe I went too far…memorizing your shifts.”

“My shifts are incredibly predictable, being one of two employees in the shop.”

“Yeah.” Steven mutters. You hear him shuffling papers. 

“It’s kind of endearing you paid so close attention, though.”

“Is it?”

“Like the flowers. Which by the way are now in a vase right on my bedside table.”

“Bedside table? Why not the den? Or kitchen?” Steven asks. 

“Because it’ll be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning.” You say softly.

There’s a sharp intake of breath and release before he hums around a smile. “Now I’m jealous of the flowers.”

“For what?” You prod gently, until you track back to what you said right before. Now you’re the one with warm cheeks. “You-” you stutter and choke on your words. 

Steven’s muffled laugh comes through, like his hand is over his mouth.  “I cannot believe I said that.”

“Nor can I!” You grab a pillow to shove your face into, as if it could hide the blooming heat racing up your neck to your cheeks and ears. 

There’s a beat of silence before, “I-I think I need to hang up before I self combust.” 

“Me too.”

Neither of you hang up again. 

You grumble and catch the tail end of his laugh before you finally hang up first.

[bffsoobin]

amortentia

↳year six potions class was never particularly exciting to you- as a Slytherin with much more interest in Transfiguration- but alas, it’s required to graduate. You thought the class couldn’t be any more of an inconvenience, but upon being paired with infamous Gryffindor Beomgyu, you find yourself proven wrong.

➤ gryffindor!beomgyu xslytherin!reader, harry potter!au, enemies to lovers, a little slow burn, fluff

Word Count: ~11k

Requested?: kinda? anon requested a Beomgyu oneshot with no specifics and I spit this out of some depraved, Harry Potter obsessed corner of my mind.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, usual e2l arguments, swearing, usual Gryffindor-Slytherin insults and tension 

A/N: I hope the anon who asked for a Beomgyu oneshot is happy with this!! I finally felt like I had enough time to write a proper hogwarts au so here it is! Also I purposely avoided using any professor names that are clearly linked with the actual Harry Potter series purely because of timeline continuity! Bonus points if you can guess who Georgiana is related to before I point it out :) ALSO this is so long and I feel so rusty so I hope it’s okay lmao

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

The sound of your quill scratching against parchment filled your quiet corner of the common room, allowing you a feeling of solidarity and peace you’d been craving since you arrived back to the castle a few days ago. Of course you’d been excited to be back, sharing the meal in the Great Hall with all of your friends happily as you watched the wide-eyed first years get sorted into their houses. It was hard to believe that 6 years ago that had been you waiting to find your place within the walls of Hogwarts. 

As always, the buzz of the beginning of a new year wore on your nerves. Despite your love for your friends, their energy was- in your opinion- completely draining. You much preferred the moments of quiet serenity that the stone laden dungeon common room afforded you. The last few embers of a fire lit hours before winked at you from across the room, tempting you to raise your wand and reignite them. After a moment you decided against the movement, as you were presumably the only one awake at this hour and the light of the cedar scented candle you’d brought down with you from your suitcase provided enough light for you anyway. 

The scratch of your quill stilled as you flipped to the next page, careful not to accidentally bend the corners of the book you’d just purchased. Several detailed diagrams detailed the process of transfiguring plants to inanimate objects to animals then back to plants and you felt your heart swell with excitement. Transfiguration was hands down your favorite subject, and you’d been craving to learn this process in particular since it had been mentioned offhandedly in class last year. You scrambled to pick up your quill, happy that you’d splurged for the instantly refilling model as ink flowed flawlessly against the parchment. 

A sudden crash from the entrance of the common room popped your comfortable bubble of silence harshly as you clambered for your wand. 

“Who’s there?” You yelled, annoyance and surprise mixing to raise your voice considerably. For a moment you heard nothing as you advanced closer to the door, keeping the three wide stone steps between you and who- or what- ever was behind the door. The door shook a few times before finally flying open, revealing three very normal looking boys stumbling through the threshold. They were all hanging on one another, stumbling over their feet as they pushed into the common room. You recognized the one in the middle instantly as Choi Yeonjun, fellow Slytherin and current Head Boy of the house. He was a year older than you but you knew him well for his infectious laughter and notoriously good grades despite never studying. His cheeks were flushed and his feet unsteady, but he held a charming grin through it all. The identity of whoever was supporting him on the left was a mystery to you, but the boy supporting him from the right sent alarm bells off in your head. 

“Beomgyu?” Your voice left you before you could rein yourself in, and you would have cringed had it not been for the hatred brewing under your skin. Here he was, the one person you tried to forget existed every single summer. And he had been part of the ruckus that pulled you from your reading. He didn’t say anything as the three boys stumbled past you, dumping Yeonjun onto one of the soft black leather sofas. 

“Hello?” You felt like you were in some kind of time warp, somehow totally invisible to the three of them as they sorted themselves out; Beomgyu and the other boy straightening out their clothing and Yeonjun lolling his head back on the cushions with a content sigh. 

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Beomgyu finally drawled, sticking his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. He was still wearing his robes, layered over a sensible gray wool sweater and black uniform slacks. His striped red and gold tie hung off of his neck slightly, obviously having been loosened at some point in the night. He donned the same Head Boy pin Yeonjun did, but in the same colorway as his robes and tie. Loud, obnoxious, attention seeking red and gold.

“Hey? How about instead of “hey” you tell me why the hell you’re barging into my common room at some ungodly hour of the night! Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Head Boy?” The unidentified boy behind him froze as his eyes widened, apparently feeling the sting of your icy words much more than Beomgyu. He just lifted a lazy eyebrow, guiding his annoyingly confident gaze over your body. Fucking Gryffindors and their confidence. It was suffocating. 

“Well you see, Y/N. Yeonjun here can’t handle his fire whiskey for shit, and we were all just having a little start of the year party in the Room of Requirement. So me and my friend here,” he motioned vaguely to the cowering boy behind him- who you now noticed looked like he had just entered his fourth year- “decided to be so kind as to bring him back.” 

You said nothing for a moment; simply simmering in your hatred for him until he spoke again. 

“By the way, what are you even doing up so late? You’re not a prefect...so shouldn’t you be up in bed like the rest of your little friends? What’s so secretive that you have to be up in the middle of the night for it? Are you doing something...evil?” He leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you and bringing his mouth level with your ear. You cringed at the closeness, clenching your hands into fists until the crescents of your nails indented your skin. His voice had lowered like he was telling a secret, as if Gryffindors even had the capacity for maintaining privacy. “Are you being naughty?” 

You huffed indignantly, finally finding the strength to shove his shoulder away harshly. The skin of your cheeks was certainly flamed, but you hoped he would chalk it up to annoyance and not the intoxicating scent of his woody cologne.  

“If you must know, I was up studying Transfiguration. I was trying to enjoy some piece and quiet until you came busting in.”

Beomgyu stepped around you and made his way for the table you’d previously been sitting at. To your delight he refrained from touching anything, but he stared at the set up for so excruciatingly long that the mystery boy awkwardly slipped out of the dungeon without a word. 

“We start classes in about 5 hours,” he suddenly remarked. His voice made you jump a bit, since you’d become used to the regained quiet. “Why the hell are you already studying? And a subject we’ve all already taken? Any other Transfiguration courses would just be electives, and with how much you care for your class standing I would have assumed you’d be learning ahead on Potions.”

“Well first of all, I’m not exactly studying. I’m just reading. I bought the book myself because I-” you stopped and heaved a sigh at the scrunch of his eyebrows. He clearly wasn’t understanding the concept of reading just for the fun of it. “I’m not studying for Potions because I despite it. Plus, how much is there to study? The book literally spells out every ingredient and procedure. There’s no thinking to be done, and hardly any magic.” Beomgyu’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline comically. 

“Hardly any magic? My god, maybe I was right to peg you as the pessimistic type. Must be hard to feel anything akin to hope down here in your-” he glanced around your common room again, eyes catching on the darkened green and black decorations, the window offering a view of the sparkling Black Lake shrouded with pine trees. “In your dungeon.” 

His use of the word bothered you greatly. Even though you knew it was geographically true and had even used it yourself; something about him coming in unannounced and uninvited to insult your home inspired fresh anger in your stomach. 

“Get out,” you spat, ignoring the way a half-dozed Yeonjun jumped at your voice. With all your might you pushed at Beomgyu’s broad shoulders, willing him out of your sight for at least a few more hours. 

“Oof, must have hit a nerve there, huh?” He continued to speak casually as you pushed him, walking backwards up the steps with an annoyingly perfect accuracy. Once he was finally stood in the threshold of the heavy door you heaved a sigh of relief as you swing it closed.

“Bye bye! Don’t ever fucking come back!”

——

You only managed about two hours of sleep after the Beomgyu drama, but luckily for you the three other sixth year girls you were rooming with had been smart enough to buy and stash away some caffeine potions. They had none of the enjoyable taste of coffee but three times the effect, and soon you felt back in top shape to head to class.

Pushing through the masses of clambering students with a practice eased, you caught up to the familiar frame of Georgiana, one of your oldest friends. She was a Ravenclaw, but you’d ridden together on your very first trip on the Hogwarts Express and stayed close friends since then. She greeted you easily, giving you an award winning smile as she pulled you by the arm of the robes to sit on one of the surprisingly empty stone benches lining the halls.

“Let me see your schedule!” She had to yell just to be heard over the mumbling of the crowd, but you heard her well enough to produce a folded piece of parchment that you carried despite having memorized it. Georgiana’s eyes flitted over it carefully, comparing it to her own schedule which laid open on her lap.

“We’ve got...Herbology 3,” she ran her finger down the parchments a few more inches, “Transfiguration of Aquatics...and NEWT prep together!” You groaned loudly, a feeling of anxiety weighing down your bones as you rubbed your fingertips into your temples.

“What’s up with you? Over me already?” She giggled, leaning back against the wall and handing you back your schedule.

“No, it’s just...if you’re the second class for Herb 3, Aquatics and NEWT prep, that means I have to pray that the second house in Potions isn’t Gryffindor.” You leaned back against the cool wall next to her, pouting in self pity until you saw the grim look on her face.

“What?” You sat up straight again as if a fire had been lit under your ass. Georgiana looked as if she was holding in a laugh and a grimace at the same time while you begged her to give up whatever information she was holding back from you. Her hand hovered over her mouth in an attempt to hide the wavering smirk running across her lips. 

“Okay, don’t freak out.” She began, placing a hand on your knee. 

“Well now I’m definitely going to since you lead with don’t freak out! Should I freak out? What about?”

“I already compared schedules with Soobin,” she said gently.

“Okay, and?” You knew of the sweet Hufflepuff, had sat next to him in a few classes and seen him hanging out with Yeonjun on occasion, but still had no idea why she was bringing him up now.

“And him and I have Potions together.” In the split second it took for the words to process you saw her flinch, clutching at the fabric of her robes over her chest in anticipation for your angry outburst.

“Of course! Of course I have to get stuck with them for Potions class, out of all the other houses. Merlin really has it out for lately you know, I didn’t sleep very much last night, had to pay Melinda 10 galleons for one of her caffeine potions-“

“I can tell,” Georgiana supplied. You grimaced at her and immediately shut your mouth, sensing your rapid talking was quickly becoming over the top.

“Georgie, if I have Potions with him-“ you didn’t even have to specify who you were speaking of before she was rolling her green eyes into her head.

“If you have Potions with Beomgyu, you just need to ignore him. He loves to push your buttons, Y/N. When will you realize that? And you push his back and you both get a good cat-and-mouse feeling that every teenager wants. Maybe if you stop entertaining it, he’ll take it easy on you. Need I remind you of the time you were actually friends with him? Didn’t swear he was the spawn of Satan after every conversation? I even remember in second year when you had a crush on him and made me-“

“Okay!” You replied curtly, gathering your books and parchment back into your arms. “I’m going now! Class starts in,” you pulled back your robe sleeve to look at a watch that clearly was not there, “10 minutes, and I like to be early!” Easily, you slipped into the throngs of students, leaving Georgiana behind with a sly grin on her face.

——

You arrived to the Potions room before any other student, forcing you to idle awkwardly in the small space between the door and the first brewing station. A few of the cauldrons bubbled idly, breaking up the silence of the room with the low hum of white noise. The arched ceilings only amplified the absence of noise- even the never ending buzz of students passing through the hallways was somehow muffled to silence inside the walls. 

“Ah!” The professor bellowed, waving at you from the opposite end of the room where he had been straightening out some piles of parchment that you could only assume were homework papers. “Hello there, you must be quite eager to start the day!” You could feel the skin of the back of your neck heating up as the rotund man approached you gleefully. 

“Oh, um, yes sir. You could say that...” you mumbled, clutching your stack of books to your chest protectively. The man smiled at you kindly but you could still feel the heavy weight of awkwardness seeping into your bones. He opened his mouth again- making another attempt at small talk to which you cringed. As much as you respected the professor on the basis of his knowledge, your ability for any small talk, especially Potions related, was extremely lacking. 

“You must’ve done quite well on your OWLS to be here, yes? Only those with the highest scores can be registered. The class can be quite challenging, but if you’ve got your affairs in order I reckon you’ll fine.” He paused, likely sensing the blankness behind your stare as you nodded politely. “Ah, all things you already know I’m sure. Are you excited to get started with the class?” 

You frowned, holding back your natural instinct for brutal honesty. How on earth could you let this gentle old man down gently? 

“Of course she’s excited! Aren’t we all?” Beomgyu was in the room now, apparently, approaching you from behind and slinging an arm around your shoulders. The loose fabric of his sleeve collided with the side of your face, blinding you for a second. You stumbled on your feet from the jostle, trying to shrug away from the warmth and overwhelming scent of his cologne. Beomgyu never was aware of his own strength as he held you steadily against his side as if he was trying to fuse your bodies together.

“Oh my! So nice to see such great friends between different houses! Back in my day, as I’m sure you know, there was so much hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins...never would have seen a pair of friends like the two of you!” The professor seemed genuinely delighted, oblivious to the way you tried to wiggle out of Beomgyu’s hold. You offered the professor a plastic smile as more students filed in. As soon as the portly man was otherwise occupied, you stomped the heel of your sneaker into Beomgyu’s foot with all the might you could gather. 

“Merlin, ouch!” He recoiled immediately, withdrawing his arm from around your frame to clutch at the foot you’d hopefully bruised. “I’ve got Quidditch practice after lunch today! How dare you!” 

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t need your feet for Quidditch, Choi. Serves you right for violating my personal space. Next time it’ll be worse than your fucking toes.” You hissed the words lowly, just enough that he would be able to hear them but without alerting your nearby classmates. 

“You two, there!” The professor suddenly exclaimed, making you jump out of your stupor to see he was pointed an aged finger at you and Beomgyu. “Since you were first in and seem to get along, I’ll have you be partners on Station 1.” A few confused whispers passed through the classmates behind you and your face fell at the implication. Potions partners with Beomgyu? For the whole year?

He seemed similarly stalled, not moving a single inch away from the front of the room until the professor cleared his throat pointedly. 

“Right, sir, of course,” Beomgyu nodded, rushing over to the furthest of the high-top tables; unsuccessfully trying to hide the pain of his newfound limp. With a satisfied feeling in your chest you followed closely behind, finally unloading the weight of the books in your arms onto the table. 

——

“How much worse could it get?” You groaned, laying your head in your arms at the dining table. 

“Well, you could be sick, or failing a class, or not have any friends, or have lost your books. Hell, let’s not forget what it must have been like to go to school here at the same time as Harry Potter. I mean, no final exams for a few years, but at what cost? Grandpa Ron always tells me about-” 

“Oh, good Merlin, Georgie, that’s not what I meant.” You picked your head up from the table and scanned the bustling hall. A large plate of sandwiches laid in front of you but your appetite was diminished in the presence of your stress. “I mean, how fucked is it that I have to spend every first period for the rest of the year brewing Potions alongside Choi? It’s bad enough that I hate Potions already, and now I’ll have to deal with his stupid, righteous, Slytherin-slandering ass!” You slammed your hand into the wooden table, shaking the plates and glasses near you under the force. 

“Careful there,” Georgiana scolded around a mouthful of bread. “Just keep your head down, don’t react to him like you always do,” she paused to gulp down a sip of pumpkin juice, “he’ll give up eventually.” You heaved a heavy sigh, propping your chin onto the palm of your hand and scanning the Great Hall. Masses of students bustled around, sharing meals and laughing or gathering over homework problems. You weren’t quite sure who or what you were looking for, but all you found was a rowdy group of forth year boys sitting atop one of the tables, casting small hexes at one another and their lunches. You rolled your eyes at their antics before resigning to picking at the few fries on your plate. 

“And if he doesn’t?” You mumbled, casting a pointed glare at a seemingly distracted Georgiana. It took her a second to shift her gaze back to your face, clearing her throat as she narrowed her eyes towards you. 

“Sorry?” She asked, pulling a section of crust off of the third sandwich she’d picked up off of the platter. 

“If he doesn’t give up? What am I supposed to do then?” The thought of living out the next two school years with Choi Beomgyu as a constant annoyance settled a pit of rage in your stomach. Georgiana was quiet for a moment, flicking a few locks of curled, fiery hair over her shoulder. 

“Then you get back at him.” She shrugged. “You know you get a discount at the joke shop. Just go down there and pick up some puking pastilles or something.” She looked up again suddenly, eyes shimmering and focused intently on something behind you. Out of curiosity you turned on the spot, wondering if there was something of interest outside of the window, only to be met with the sight of Soobin standing mere feet away, hand stalled mid-wave. It didn’t take a genius to notice that the Hufflepuff was staring intently at your best friend, and she was happily returning the sentiment with a goofy grin on her face. You whipped back around to face her, leaning across the table as if the action would provide any secrecy with him so close. 

“Are you and Soobin...” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she swatted at your shoulder. Her cheeks blushed rosy as she whispered back, “He asked me if I’d want to hang out when we go to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Her voice shook as she spoke but you frowned instantly. Of course you were happy that he had finally manned up and the two of them were on the way to something akin to a date, but...

“First weekend Hogsmeade is our tradition!” You shouted, abandoning any secrecy you might have thought you’d maintained from Soobin. 

“Y/N, please!” Georgiana hissed, glancing up at Soobin with an apologetic smile. “Just once. You can still come along, maybe you can bring someone too?” She offered, trying to placate your irritation. Her eyes continued sliding between you and Soobin as she waited for your response. You sank back onto the bench quietly, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Fine.” You sighed. “I guess I can try to think of someone.” Georgiana’s face lit up as she stood from her seat and gathered her books back under her arm. She rounded the end of the table quickly, meeting up with Soobin just behind you. “Don’t think I’m not still irritated, Weasley!” You yelled after her even though she had turned her back to you. She stalled in her lockstep next to Soobin just long enough to turn her head and throw you a middle finger. 

——

The day of your Hogsmeade visit came quicker than you anticipated, and of course you’d failed to find someone to fill the empty spot that would prevent you from third wheeling. Everyone you asked had either been otherwise busy, sick, or already going into Hogsmeade with other friends.

Georgiana, being the wonderful friend she was, made sure that you hadn’t felt left out on the walk into the village. Soobin was surprisingly good at keeping conversation despite his shy appearance, and the three of you had managed to share lunch and a few Butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks before Georgiana began giving you pointed glances. It took you an embarrassingly long time to recognize what her hand signals and mouthed words were conveying, but once you did you had excused yourself to wander the shops alone in a bid to give the lovebirds some privacy.

The weather was surprisingly pleasant, and as such the streets were lined with witches and wizards of all ages. Large throngs of students and families passed you by, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit like a fish swimming upstream as everyone pushed by. When you’d first stepped out you felt odd walking the cobbled street alone, considering you’d never made a solo trip to Hogsmeade for as long as you’d lived. Something about it was quite relaxing, though, as you realized you could enter any store and stay for any amount of time. 

Once you’d wrestled your way through another group of oncoming students, you spotted an endearing baby blue storefront with deserts on display in the window. Many of them appeared to be muggle creations, and your mouth watered as you caught sight of a tray of fudgy brownies with a thick layer of chocolate icing. Your eyes had always been bigger than your stomach; so despite the fact that you’d just had lunch you find yourself stepping into the sweet smelling shop. An expansion charm helped stretch the store far beyond its dainty storefront, and you were met with the sight of even more display cases and tiered plates full of sweets. 

A few other wizards mulled around the store, debating which treats to pick up and pack into the little green pastry boxes which were stacked at the entrance in a never ending supply. You balanced one of your own between your hands as you gathered up treats, sure to grab three of the very brownies that had brought you in to begin with. You packed in a few cookies that you found on a shelf near the back of the store and began to weigh your options between purchasing what appeared to be a type of muggle cake with specs of color floating about the white batter or a more familiar looking pumpkin pastry dusted with powdered sugar. You contemplated the two deserts for an amount of time that would have been embarrassing if you were in the presence of company.

“Wrackspurts on the brain?” A rush of hot breath inches away from the shell of your ear had you reeling, clutching your box of precious deserts to your chest. Of course you’d immediately identified the voice; you were just hoping that you were wrong as you shot daggers into the boy who’d spooked you. Beomgyu looked beyond pleased with himself: a hand cocked on his hip, fake glasses perched at the very end of his nose to perfectly top off the outfit he’d chosen. His robes hung open, one shoulder almost devoid of the fabric as it drooped onto his back. The maroon turtleneck he wore struck a perfect contrast with the golden undertones of his skin and matched impressively well to the emblem on his robes. He had tucked the turtleneck into the waistband of a pair of light wash jeans that made it hard not to marvel at the shape of his waist. The scent of his cologne was faint, overpowered by the sweetness of the shop, but you were picking up overwhelming scents of-

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” He scrunched his nose as he studied you, waving gingerly like you would have at a child.

“Oh! Uh, I’m here, I’m here. What the hell do you want anyway?” You turned your attention back to the two pastries you’d been considering before his sneak attack in an attempt to keep yourself from looking back at his form.

“What’re you doing here alone? Out of friends? Did ya bore them all to death?” He had rounded to the opposite side of the table, forcing you to look at him straight on.

“I walked into Hogsmeade with Georgiana and Soobin, if you must know. They wanted some time alone so here I am.” You glanced up again to see him leaning casually against the table with one arm bracing his weight.

“I just have to point out that you’re also alone, Beomgyu. So I’m not quite sure why so keen on bashing me.” Your eyes skate over the deserts one final time before you decisively package up a slice of the muggle cake. The urge to celebrate the small victory was squashed by Beomgyu’s scoff.

“I’m here alone because I chose to be, not because my best friend is on a date and didn’t want a chaperone. Don’t you find that a little embarrassing?”

To be honest, you hadn’t considered it that way. You knew that finding a person to keep you from third wheeling had been your responsibility. But maybe he had a point. Although he was a constant nagging force, Beomgyu was insightful and intelligent. He’d helped you in class many times back when you were friends. Nervously, you nibbled at your bottom lip and considered his words carefully. Did Georgiana find your presence today embarrassing? She was surely too nice to tell you so, and there was no denying the tension in her face while she waited for you to leave The Three Broomsticks earlier. Your normally stoic face must have betrayed you, conveying that you were starting to feel hurt at the words that suddenly seemed to make so much sense. 

“I was joking,” Beomgyu spoke up suddenly, rounding the table to once again be next to you. “Don’t take everything I say so seriously, Y/N. I’m beginning to worry for your sense of humor.” He picked up a couple of cookies with careful dexterity and settled them into the palm of his hand. 

“Of course,” you concluded bitterly, taking a step back in a bid to get to the counter and buy your treats. “Must be my broken sense of humor and not just the fact that you’re an ass.” His face twisted unpleasantly as you stepped further away. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but you were already pivoting on the balls of your feet to make your way toward the front of the shop. 

——

The evidence of the first frost of the season crunched underneath your feet as you hurried to class. As someone who prided themselves on showing up on time for classes every day, you were particularly embarrassed to have woken up with just twenty minutes to spare before the beginning of potions. There was no excuse, either. You had simply stayed up too late studying for the NEWT practice exam and forgot to set your alarm before lying down.

To make matters worse you’d greatly underdressed yourself, underestimating the absolute chill of the morning when you had peeled out from the window. Only now, as you found yourself feet away from the classroom did you feel the icy temperature begin to bite into your exposed skin. Your cheeks were numb with cold, and your hands shook as you pushed them under your arms for some amount of warmth. Luckily the classroom was warmer when you finally got to it. Guiltily, you grinned at your professor as he notably marked your attendance onto the scroll of parchment. 

“Rough night?” Beomgyu asked under his breath as the professor launched into the lesson for the day. You kept your back turned to the boy in favor of writing down the list of ingredients that was being provided to you. A firm poke in the middle of your back had you turning on your stool, already silently fuming as you came face to face with Beomgyu. 

“What?” You mouthed, trying your best not to alert your professor that neither of you were paying attention to him. 

“You look awful,” he mouthed back, pulling the most exaggerated gagging expression you’d ever seen in your life. Your fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grab him by his necktie and slap him across his annoyingly perfect face. Instead you threw up your middle finger boldly, practicing a muggle tradition that wizards had become quite fond of. Beomgyu feigned shock, laying a hand over his heart and pretending to faint right there at his stool. 

“-so you’ll be using this combination of potions for the group project, due in one weeks time.” Your professor concluded. Wide eyed, you spun back around on your stool only to see the words previously written on the board disappear with a flick of his wand. A group project? Potions, plural? You’d only taken notes on one mixture, and you were sure that Beomgyu hadn’t taken any notes at all. Although maybe the group project wasn’t among your table mate? Your heart fluttered as you prayed for that to be the reality, scanning your classmates to see if anyone got up to switch seats or combine tables. 

Not a single soul moved. 

“Guess it’s just us.” Beomgyu drawled from behind you. 

“Did you take any notes?” You asked, fear running through your veins. If both of you were clueless, you’d have to ask the professor to explain everything to you again, which would only implicate the two of you for not paying attention to begin with. 

Beomgyu shook his head and shrugged much too casually for a student who was in the dark about an entire project. 

“I’ll just ask someone. Hey, Art-” 

“No!” You scrambled for a rolled piece of parchment to hit him on the arm with before he could finish his shout across the classroom. “Please, do not scream across the room that we don’t know what we’re doing.” Your cheeks were flaming, anxiety and exhaustion building to a dangerous level in your bloodstream.

“Awe, are you ashamed to admit you were too busy talking to me to pay attention?” Beomgyu cooed, cradling his chin in his palms.

“No. I’m embarrassed that we’re the only ones not starting the work,” you glanced pointedly to all of the other tables where your classmates were hard at work on...something. Every table housed a slowly bubbling cauldron producing a steady stream of light grey smoke. The cauldron resting on the table between the two of you was alarmingly quiet, your stores of provided potion ingredients remaining untouched. 

“Alright, Y/N. How about right now we work on the one you wrote down,” he points a finger at the parchment containing the list of notes you managed to take, “and I’ll talk to someone about the rest. Since you’re too proud to ask for help.” Without waiting for you to process the words he gripped the parchment between his fingers and pulled it toward the middle of the table. He mumbled a simple aguamenti under his breath and the cauldron filled with the perfect level of water. He then scrutinized the words for just a moment before he began to collect ingredients with a practiced ease, barely even glancing at the labels of the hefty glass containers. You’d never seen him quite as focused in a class as he was at the moment, his nimble fingers uncapping lids and measuring precise amounts of lacewing flies with a delicacy you never would have expected to come from the hands of Gryffindor’s star Beater. 

One after the other, ingredients fell into the wrought iron cauldron, changing the color of the mixture from clear to an odd, murky green. You scrunched your nose in distaste but Beomgyu was nodding to himself in satisfaction, his fluffy hair bouncing back off of his forehead. 

“Stop staring and start taking notes, Y/N.” His voice was casual but his lips were twisted in a smirk as you scrambled for both an excuse and a fresh roll of parchment. 

“I wasn’t,” you defended as you begin to scribble out notes against the parchment, refusing to meet his eyes as the shame of being caught red-handed crawled up the back of your throat and stung behind your eyes. He simply hummed in acknowledgment and tossed in a few leaves of a plant you didn’t have time to identify into the bubbling mixture.

——

Impatiently, you tapped your foot against the stone floor. It echoed a sound that would have been satisfying in its consistency if it weren’t for the annoyance running through your veins. Beomgyu had promised to meet you in the west corner of the library today, at a prompt 7pm, in order to finish synthesizing your plan for the Potions project. You checked the clock on the wall again just in case you had somehow misread the hands only to find them confirming your suspicions. Beomgyu was blowing you off. He had suggested the time and place himself, and yet he couldn’t even have the decency to show up. 

Anger blossomed in your chest as you stood to gather the things you’d brought along. Your chair scraped on the floor and attracted the stares of a few other students put you paid them no mind as you swore under your breath. 

Of course Beomgyu had stood you up in the face of an important project. He was probably laughing away to his friends in the common room, boasting about how he’d left you sitting in the library like a fool. Once again he had proven himself to be an utterly useless and annoying human being that you wished you had never even met. Your teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your bottom lip so hard that blood pooled on your tongue, the bitter tang snapping you into action. The route to the Gryffindor common room was a familiar one, and the hatred brimming inside of you made your legs move even faster than usual, swearing under your breath as you finally came face to face with the portrait keeping you from entering the room. 

“I don’t have time for any password- please just let me in. I’m looking for someone.” Your words came rushed, obviously annoyed as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Now, you know that isn’t how this works, dear,” the painting asserted, crossing their arms to mimic your own stubborn pose. “I can’t let just anyone into the room. I’ve got,” the portraited stopped dead in its tracks and began counting on its fingers silently. “I’ve got 30 students inside right now, and it’s my job to protect them.” Your fists clenched at your sides over the stubborn portrait, fingers itching to grab your wand and level a badgering curse against the damned painting. It must have read the anger on your face as you fiddled with the fabric of your robes, as it’s booming voice came again; 

“Tell me who you’re seeking, and I can tell you if I’ve seen them!” With your fingers still curled around your wand, it took a fair deal of restraint to leave it in your robe pocket. After a deep, steadying breath, you looked back up at the portrait. A beat of silence passed before you slathered on a sweet smile, clearing your throat to quell any remnants of your frustrated growl. 

“I’m looking for Choi Beomgyu.” 

The portrait took a moment to contemplate your words, squeezing its eyes tightly and tapping its fingers as you assumed it searched the students inside the Gryffindor common room and dorms. 

“He’s not here.” It finally concluded, snapping its eyes back open to peer down at you again. Frustration flamed your skin red all the way to your hairline. Hogwarts and it’s grounds were extensive, and searching for him would surely take up your entire night. 

“I did happen to see out Quidditch players heading down to the pitch around 5 o’clock, though.” Not needing any further ceremony, you turned on your heels and made your way toward the exit of the castle. The corridors were fairly empty, and the few students still milling around were quick to step out of your way as you hurried through them, robes flowing out behind you. Silently you thanked your lucky stars that no professors had been around to inquire about why you were rushing out of the castle in such a haste. 

As soon as you set foot outside, you regretted not stopping by your dorm first to grab your coat and scarf. It had been three days since you woke up to the first frost, and the temperature had only continued to drop into frigid numbers. Even in the limited light provided by the setting sun you could see your breath fogging ahead of you. Cold air curled around your body, seeming to seep underneath your skin with a harsh ferocity. For now you simply tucked your hands deeper into the fabric of your robes, hoping that the heat of them in conjunction with your brisk pace would keep your body warm enough.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch was deceptively far when you traveled alone. Normally you were so distracted by conversation with your friends and the last minute bets between houses that you didn’t have time to mull over how many steps it took you to arrive at the stands; but today you were nothing short of pissed at how far away the compound had been built. Every step you took sent a shock of cold through your feet, your toes completely numb no matter how much you wiggled them inside your sneakers. The trees shuddered with you as you passed them, leaves spiraling to the ground as they finally give in to the pressure of the cold and resign themselves.

Finally you passed through the solid wood of the viewing stands, coming face to face with the expanse of the pitch in front of you. Totally empty. Not a single soul was to be found warming up on the grass or running practice games in the air. Upon listening, you couldn’t even hear any distant chatter that would indicate the team being huddled into the locker room.

“Shit!” A new wave of frustration crashed through your mind. Had you passed them on the way over? It was plausible that they had taken a different route back to the castle and your whole trip had been in vain. Exhausted, you leaned against the wall and listened to the whip of the banners against their metal poles, the clinking of their bindings matching with the steady, loud beat of your pulse. Just as you were about to turn and head back for the castle in your freezing shame, you heard another sound. This one was different, less uniform, almost like a grunt of exhaustion followed by a heavy thud. Your freezing feet moved almost without you to follow the noise. A vicious wind whipped your hair, mussing it up so badly that you had to stop in your tracks to gather it all back into place. You hazarded every step you took, unsure exactly where the source of the noise was coming from other than somewhere behind the stands. On your next step you heard the noise again, much closer this time, and the excitement of being close to solving this mystery had your footsteps speeding up.

Just as you rounded the curving stands, you spotted the culprit, still a little hard to make out due to the distance you had yet to cover, but the colors and shape of a Gryffindor Quidditch uniform were clear. Upon further inspection, it became obvious that the heavy thud you’d been hearing was a the heavy iron Bludger cracking against the magically reinforced bat. There were only two Beaters on the team, and one of them was the very man who’d forced you to walk into the frigid night. You continued your steady approach to the figure, morbidly curious over who it was that was out here pushing themselves to practice alone in the freezing cold. 

“Hey!” You yelled as you edged closer, hoping to give whoever it may be a fair warning that you were approaching. Within three feet of the body, there was no mistaking it to be Beomgyu. 

“Choi!” You raged, yelling much louder than required for him to hear you. The Bludger was sailing far away from the two of you with a strong hit as you closed the distance almost all the way. “I know you can hear me, asshat.” Beomgyu kept his eyes on the iron ball, effectively ignoring your words. In disbelief you glanced back and forth between his face-seeing the way his eyes narrowed in concentration as the Bludger came closer by the second. 

“Is this where you’ve been all night? Playing Quidditch while you were supposed to meet me in the library?” A strong gust of wind knocked the air out of you, shivers running down your spine as you waited for any response from the boy. The Bludger came whistling back toward the two of you, and in the split second you had the foresight to step back he had tensed his shoulders, gripped the end of his bat and took another strong and precise hit against the Bludger, sending it even further away than the last one. 

“Lost track of time.” He supplied absentmindedly, turning his head to regard you with lazy eyes. 

“What?” You seethed, stepping forward again, placing yourself in front of his frame in hopes of appearing somewhat intimidating. “You lost track of time? Let’s talk about the fact that out project is due in four fucking days, and all we have to show is a single god damn Potion. This was your responsibility,” you pushed your pointed finger into the front of his uniform, the fabric giving way to allow you to feel the firmness of his chest underneath. “I trusted you with the single task of making sure that we could figure out the rest of this project, and you fucked up!” Tears of frustration rimmed your eyes as the worry of failure overwhelmed you. As much as you hated Potions, you’d be damned if Choi Beomgyu became the reason you do poorly. 

“Listen, I seriously did just forget,” he pushed at your shoulders forcefully, to which you planted your feet into the ground harder. “Seriously, Y/N, I forgot! Now move!” 

“No! You are not,” you grabbed at his forearm and pulled it off of your shoulder, “going to blow me off again! We are going to work on this project right now, even if its the last thing I do!” 

“It’s about to be if you don’t fucking move!” He yelled, finally managing to uproot your feet and push you off to the side with so much force that you landed flat on your ass, the cold hardness of the ground knocking the breath out of your lungs. From the ground, you watched helplessly while Beomgyu scrambled to grab his bat in time to hit the whirring Bludger. He was a quick enough thinker to see that there was no way he’d make the move in time, so he simply did the next best thing- turning his back to the ball and ducking his head into his chest, covering the back of his neck with his arms. 

With a sickening crack, the Bludger made foul contact with Beomgyu’s back, striking just below his left shoulder blade. The force knocked him forward, his hands barely catching himself as he met the ground harshly. He cried out in pain, the sound bouncing around the stands and piercing your veins. In a hurry, you crawled toward his heaving body and urged him to sit up with the guidance of your hands. 

“Are you okay?” The words rushed out of you in a hurry, panic crawling up the back of your throat at the shine of tears streaming down his reddened cheeks. 

“Wh-what the hell do you think?” He groaned, body shaking as he struggled to even take a breath. 

“Okay, right. Dumb question. Let’s get you to the infirmary, yeah?” His legs shook as he got them under him, something akin to a baby deer taking its first few steps. Instinctively you shot out an arm to steady him, looping your arm behind his back as effectively as you could given the height difference and placement of his injury. 

“Merlin, I think I broke my shoulder blade,” he groaned, stumbling across the uneven ground with trepidation. 

“You didn’t, I watched. It actually hit right below your shoulder blade, so if anything it’s just bruised, and you probably won’t even need a bone-healing spell, so recovery should be little more than some Devil’s Claw for the pain and-” 

“Did someone cast a babbling curse on you? Merlin’s beard. It’s bad enough that you got me hit to begin with, and now I have to listen to you run your mouth!’ His voice was still pinched with pain, an octave lower than normal as he gritted his teeth. The two of you finally reached the threshold of the castle, encapsulated by the warmth of the torches littered all inside. 

“I’m trying to help! Did you ever consider the fact that if you had showed up to our scheduled meeting time, you could have avoided being hit. I could have avoided freezing all of my extremities off, and I wouldn’t have to be helping your ass to the infirmary.” 

The noise of your bickering outside of the infirmary wing attracted the nurse to the hallway, who furrowed her eyebrow in silent question over the two of you. 

“He got hit by a Bludger, ma’am,” you supply as soon as you see her. Her eyes widen instantly as she rushed forward, helping you guide Beomgyu into an empty cot. She shooed you aside as she fretted over him, asking questions about the incident in a low, steady tone before nodding seriously. Without any kind of warning, Beomgyu was pulling the fabric of his uniform over his head, leaving his top half bared to you. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat nervously. The nurse was too busy prodding at the blossoming bruise to have heard your stutter, but Beomgyu was nothing if not aware. 

His dark eyes found your form standing just a few paces away, staring unabashedly at the faint hint of his abs that had become visible. 

“Somethin’ you like?” He drawled playfully, snapping you out of your reverie. 

“Merlin, no.” You sneered, hoping to cover the thickness of your tone as you swallowed hard. “Just trying to decide if I should tell the Quidditch team to get their backup trained for the game tomorrow night.” Beomgyu’s face fell at the implication of your words and a sting of regret struck your heart. 

“There will be no need for a backup, dear,” the nurse cooed, shuffling her feet as she gathered up a few healing supplies. She offered a bottle of innocent looking clear liquid to Beomgyu and he drank it instantly, grimacing at what you assumed to be a foul taste. “Now, dear, if you don’t fancy seeing your boyfriend in more pain as I heal him-”

“Please. He is not my boyfriend. I just helped him get here. I’ll be going now, anyway. See you tomorrow?” You asked pointedly, hoping he would understand your incessant need to finish the Potions project. He nodded slightly, and you scanned Beomgyu’s form one more time before excusing yourself to the nurse and scurrying back to your dorm. 

——

“I better hear a thank you.” Beomgyu asserted as soon as he slumped in the seat across from you. He had been so quiet in his approach to the table that you hadn’t heard him until now, rocketing your gaze up towards him from the pages of your Transfiguration book. 

“Beomgyu,” you breathed, relieved to see that he had been healed and able to return to classes just the morning after the Bludger hit. You schooled your features into cool indifference as soon as you saw his mouth twitch up at the sound of his name. “For what am I thanking you? Withholding information about the project?” 

“No,” he shook his head, springing a few carefully parted hairs loose from their spot. “For- number one-” he paused dramatically, drumming his bony fingers against the edge of the high-topped table, “providing you all the information for finishing this project.” Out of seemingly nowhere he produced a thick roll of parchment that unrolled to reveal a step by step explanation. Pages of carefully written instructions went into great detail on every step of the potions that needed to be made. A sense of relief and happiness washed through you, enough to make your hands curl into excited fists as you beamed. 

“Turns out our Seeker is good at more than catching a Snitch. She got the highest marks in this class last year, and agreed to share the notes with me.” 

“Thank you, Beomgyu. Seriously. I was beginning to worry.” 

“I know, I know. It feels good to be your savior, Y/N. Oh, which reminds me of reason number two; the fact that I spared you a Bludger hit last night.” 

“I thought we’d already covered this. Most of that encounter was your fault. Plus, your little shove left me with a bruise of my own on my ass.” Pouting, you shifted your weight in an attempt to alleviate the pain against said bruise. 

“Just admit it, Y/N,” he leaned forward, his face mere inches from your own so as not to be heard by anyone around. “You’re indebted to me. Two times over.” He was cocky, but you had to admit he had a point. As much grief as he had caused you, he had saved you from both a failing grade and an injury in just under 24 hours. 

“You’ve got a point.” Beomgyu shrunk back into his seat, cocking his head to the side as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. It seemed like he was waiting for a witty remark or some kind of argument to his words, but you kept a sure, steady gaze on him instead. Either your eyes were playing tricks on you or there was a slowly building flush of red blooming from under the collar of his cable-knit sweater onto his cheeks. Against your will, your mind reproduced the image of his bared chest from last night. 

“What do I owe you?” The question rolled off of your tongue like butter as you took the chance to lean forward to him, balancing carefully on your stool with your elbows planted onto the table. 

“I-I just,” Beomgyu frowned at his stutter, apparently upset by his own lack of confidence. His mouth opened and closed again in quick succession and you grinned wider. Another teasing lilt was right at the tip of your tongue, but the booming voice of your professor cracked the tension wide open and had you sitting back on your stool. 

——

Two days later, you stand behind your stool in Potions class, wringing your hands together nervously. Your portly professor had spent all morning swirling around the class, leaning over the cauldrons and vials present at every table. He muttered a few things to every pair of students, nodding along as they explained their approach to him. It seemed as if he were grading on the spot, since you caught a glimpse of a quill gliding over a small strip of parchment. 

Finally the elder approached your table, bushy eyebrows pinched into one another as he had already begun to scrutinize the potions laid out for him. He said nothing as he approached, quietly appraising your work. One by one, he picked up the vials one by one, peering through the clear bottom and giving them an experimental swirl. He hummed happily to himself and your heart soared. Across the table you noticed Beomgyu looking equally pleased. The professor set down the vials one by one before leveling his gaze onto you. 

“How do you think you did?” He questioned, producing the same thin strip of parchment you’d seen him use at other tables. Palms sweating, you stole a glance at Beomgyu who gave you an encouraging wave of his hand. 

“I think we did quite well, professor. It took us a bit to get the whole project together, but I feel confident in our end results here.” Nervously, your eyes skated down to his quill, tapping against the parchment rhythmically. 

“Well, I think you did quite well, the two of you. These potions are near perfect. Couldn’t make them any better myself.” It felt as if the air had been sucked from your lungs, shocking you beyond belief. Never once in your life did you think you’d be receiving such high marks in Potions- especially with Beomgyu as your partner. Your professor marked a delicate “A+” on the small strip of parchment. 

Beomgyu threw a triumphant fist in the air, wiggling in his spot with pure excitement. Your professor let out a belly laugh, spinning around to address the entire class. 

“I didn’t want to advertise this since I wanted you all to put in your best, pure efforts to the project. But, now that I’ve reviewed everyone’s work and determined the best,” you swapped a look of confusion with Beomgyu, both assuming that he was referring to you. “I am offering an award to our friends at Station 1!” He motioned to the two of you wildly, robes flailing as you ushered to the front of the room. Your peers glared at the two of you, but you were too far onto cloud nine to care. 

“Good thing I got those notes, huh?” Beomgyu muttered to you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Good thing I spent all last night making sure we actually had the potions to present.” Keeping your voice low and level to keep him from sensing just how grateful you were for his efforts. The class murmured lowly, surely trading snide remarks about the two of you until the professor cleared his throat pointedly.

From the pocket of his robes, the professor pulled out two small, clear vials. One was pressed into each of your palms, and you stared up at him with confusion. Maybe this was a sign you should have paid more attention to the types of potions around you.

“Luck potions, please use them carefully” he supplied helpfully, swirling back around to face the entire class. “Now, who’s willing to take a photo of me and our winners?” The professor bellowed, producing an old film camera from somewhere and brandishing until someone shuffled off of their stool.

——

Fresh, fluffy snow floated down in gentle waves outside the window. It was the thick of winter now, and despite your best efforts to bundle up you were still huddling into yourself for warmth as students shuffled into Potions around you. Everyone seemed especially lethargic, yearning for the break from classes that Christmas promised. You laid your head onto your folded arms, feeling just as exhausted as the atmosphere suggested. 

Sleep had been evading you lately, annoyingly deceptive as you would lay down in bed tired only to be kept awake by your racing mind for several hours. Somehow settling into your arms in this classroom was the most content you’d felt in days. And then you felt a firm push at the back of your head. There was no mistaking who the perpetrator was, especially as you heard the scrape of a stool directly across from you. 

“Good morning to you too, Beomgyu.” He was perched perfectly on his stool, eyes wide and bright. For as long as you’d known him, he had thrived in the cold and the snow. “You are obnoxiously cheerful. God damn Gryffindors.” 

“Not my fault you’re such a grouch. But I guess it is true that snakes don’t like the cold.” 

“Do you ever let up? Or do you get pleasure out of ruining my mood every single morning?” 

A grin cracked his lips as a short laugh bubbled through. “Thinking about my pleasure, are you? Concerned I’m not getting enough? I can assure you that-”

“Okay, gross. Stop. Enough. You know that isn’t what I meant.” Quite honestly, you had no time to endure his usual teasing so you simply turned your body away from him, idly watching the professor gather his things at the desk. 

“Right, let’s get going! We need all the time we can manage today!” He seemed more jubilant than usual as he centered his own cauldron onto the middle of his desk. “Today we’ll be making love potions. Amortentia, you may know. If you’ll open to page 104, you can find the procedure. It is important to note that this potion cannot make anyone truly fall in love, but it does create a strong attraction to whomever you make with it in mind. Of course, the full effect doesn’t apply unless it is consumed. Today we will simply be brewing it for practice. If done correctly, the potion will emulate-” 

“The scent of what you find most attractive,” you muttered absent mindedly, reading directly off of the page you had open in your lap. 

“Exactly, miss Y/N. Your potion today will smell like what you find most appealing.” He nodded proudly. A feeling of anxiety rose in your chest as he rattled on. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t think of the type of scents that would come from the potion. You were quite fond of some scents in candle form, but you wouldn’t classify them as...attractive. Even more worrying was the idea that no matter how hard you tried, you would have to reveal this concoction in front of Beomgyu, who took every chance presented to torment you. Your professor clapped his hands together, marking the beginning of your working period. 

The instructions were simple enough, so you took extra care to be sure that the   measurements were as perfect as you could get them. The room was shrouded in a hushed silence that indicated everyone was working hard on this. After all, this was the most exciting potion that’d been offered to you all year. 

“Can’t wait to see which poor dude you have a crush on,” Beomgyu chuckled as he stirred his pot exactly three times counter-clockwise. 

“Could say the same for you! I seriously petty whichever girl you’ve been fancying. Imagine being at the receiving end of your...ick. You’d better tell me who it is so I can send them a warning.” You stirred your pot the same way he had, watching the mixture turn to a stereotypical bright pink. The instructions lead you to allow the mixture to culminate for exactly two minutes before any results could be sought. 

The students who happened to work faster than you were already taking a sniff at their potions and recording the scents on their parchment, some pairs gossiping amongst one another about what they smelled. A clank of metal had you whipping your head upwards, locking eyes with Beomgyu as adjusted his small cauldron to bend over his potion. Since it wasn’t your own, there was no scent for you to distinguish, but you watched the way his eyes widened in shock for a second. 

Unfortunately you had no time to process his expressions before you had to examine the contents of your own cauldron. Before you could even take a deliberate sniff, your senses were rushed with a mix of sweetened musk, a wood that seemed somewhere between cedar and mahogany, and an addicting citrusy undertone that you eventually recognized as bergamot. You placed it immediately.

“Merlin, Beomgyu. Could you refrain from spraying your cologne right now? Why are you even carrying it with you in the middle of-” The words died in your throat as you realized how incriminating your words had become, seeing as Beomgyu had nothing but his quill in his hands. A feeling of sickness rose in the back of your throat as he let out a hearty laugh. 

“My cologne, huh? I actually didn’t even have time to put any on today,” he peered over at your parchment, his height allowing him to easily read the fragrance notes you had scribbled before complaining. “But those are the exact notes of what I wear.” 

Your cheeks flamed, the heat radiating so fully through your system that you felt yourself begin to sweat despite how cold you’d been before. There was no worse fate than this, you decided. Amortentia had betrayed you, putting you under the mercy of Beomgyu’s knowing stare. Fuck, did he really have to find out now that the smell of his cologne secretly drove you crazy? That as much as you hated the way he teased and antagonized you, somewhere deep down you’d never quite lost the crush you developed in second year? 

“I was beginning to think you might’ve had a crush on me, Y/N. Isn’t that so sweet! The stony little Slytherin finally realizing that she’s attracted to me...this is quite the revelation!” Beomgyu lamented, obviously overjoyed at the new ammo he could load into his teasing. 

As much as you searched, you could find no words to defend yourself, as the proof was truly in the potion. A bit defeated, you sunk back into your stool, content to bury your face into your hands until your next class began; but at your new level you could see Beomgyu’s own piece of parchment scrawled with what he had smelled. Reading them upside down was a bit of a challenge, but he was too busy complimenting himself to recognize your analytical stare. Written in a neat list were the scents: sage, some type of berry (juniper?), eucalyptus, something woody (cedar?). 

Your heart stuttered, a bitter laugh threatening to spill out and give yourself away. Skillfully you held it back, cursing to any god or deity who might be listening. The notes matched up exactly with the perfume you wore every single day.

——

“You asked him why he sprayed his cologne?” Georgiana gaped at you across the table in the Great Hall. The two of you had joined up for lunch just hours after your Potions class disaster.

“Yes, but that’s not all! Just before I melted into a puddle of my own dispair, I saw his list, and I swear to Merlin it’s the exact notes of my perfume! Look,” you produced the travel-sized bottle from your pocket, flipping it to the back label and listing off the exact ingedients.

“Wow,” Georgiana nodded, sinking her teeth into a piece of pizza. “That’s quite remarkable.”

“Why are you not giving me more of a reaction?” You whined, stomping your foot against the floor petulantly. She raised an eyebrow high, taking a few more chews at her food.

“You want me to be honest? Or nice?” She asked, weighing the invisible options on her hands in front of you.

“Honest, I guess.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d pick that one. You see, my sweet Y/N, the two of you have been dancing around this for years. Even though you renounced him all those years ago, I still talk to him on occasion. Not to mention he’s friends with Soobin, so I’ve been provided with some...insider information. To be honest, Soobin and I have both been waiting for the day the two of you finally stopped bickering and like...made out.”

Your face twisted unpleasantly, shocked at her words. “Insider information?” You croaked, creases forming in your forehead. Georgiana smiled devilishly and you swore you could see red horns rising from her fiery hair.

“Beomgyu talks about you all the time. Apparently, back when he was dating Klara, he would often talk to Soobin about how she never bantered with him like you did. They broke up because he kept comparing her to you. Told Soobin that he’s had a crush on you just as long as you have, but he thought you thoroughly hated him.”

“He has a crush on me?” You sputtered, stomach twisting into knots somewhere between disbelief and excitement. Georgiana full on laughed upon seeing your face, the cackle permeating through the air and turning heads.

“Well, I’m not gonna be the one to bring it up. If he’s got a crush on me, he can bring it up.” You suddenly decide, finally indulging in the pizza that had been waiting for you since you sat down.

“That’s my girl, stubborn to the very end.” Georgiana grinned and offered her hand for a high five that you eagerly returned.

——

The weekend brought you a much needed break from both schoolwork and all things Beomgyu related. Christmas break was fast approaching, and all of your professors had surprisingly laid off on assignments. It seemed as if they were just as tired of grading as you were of doing the work.

Unsurprisingly you found yourself in the library, sitting underneath the twinkling of the fairy lights set up especially for the holidays. Most other students were out socializing, so the room was pleasantly vacant. As a result you were able to settle into one of the plush velvet couches that were usually occupied.

After roaming the aisles you’d found an anthology of wizard poetry that piqued your interest. Settling beteeen the cushions of the couch with a book made you feel the most at home you ever had, cracking open the delicate binding and balancing the book in your stomach as you began to read.

There was no way to tell how long you’d been reading, but by your estimations it was only about 20 minutes before someone was looming above you. Startled, you lifted your gaze over the book to see none other than Beomgyu standing before you. He was decked out in a sage green sweater paired with slightly oversized beige slacks. He had forgone his robes, but his Head Boy pin still shined on the breast of his shirt. Typical.

“Can I help you?” You asked, finally sitting up to regard him.

“I thought you’d be here.” He said simply, shuffling on his feet awkwardly. You blinked.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you poked, slipping your book shut dramatically. “Did you want to ask me something?” Beomgyu licked at his lips before rubbing his fingers against his forehead.

“Merlin, why do you make everything so hard?” He groaned and seemingly became so exhausted that he collapsed onto the ornate rug under his feet. Seeing that you’d riled him up so much by doing practically nothing sent excitement through your veins. As much as the bickering annoyed you, there was no denying the thrill you felt when giving him back a taste of his medicine.

“What exactly am I making so hard? I don’t even know what you’re here for. To be honest I’m shocked you managed to find me in the library. I figured you would start to burn at the door and have to find a different way in.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at his pillowy lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here.” He finally began to reveal the award winning smile you’d come to know whenever he teased you. “I know what Georgiana told you.” His voice was low, so quiet that if there had been any other souls in the library you’d have missed it.

Your eyes flew open and he flushed instantly. “You two aren’t exactly quiet at the Great Hall, and I’ve got more than a few friends.” It was your turn to flush red, wondering just how many conversations between you and Georgiana had been overheard by other people. 

“So you know that I said...” 

“Why do you think I’m here? All it took was me knowing you also...you know,” he picked at the nonexistent loose threads in the carpet. Honestly, you were shocked at how reserved he had become in the face of this confrontation. All traces of his usual confidence seemed to have vanished in the moment. 

“I do like you, Beomgyu. I had a massive crush on you in second year, but then we got into that fight and-”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he countered animatedly. “You just never understood my humor. All this time, I was hoping that you would catch the hints.” 

“Hints?” It felt like your eyes were going to fall out of your head with how wide you held them. “You call those hints? I’d call those lackluster clues, at best.” 

He was quiet for a moment, examining the smirk on your lips carefully. In a moment of impulse you slid off of the couch to sit opposite him on the floor, knees touching. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, gripping at his thighs nervously. “Didn’t know how else to go about it.” 

“That’s okay, me either, obviously.” A rueful laugh escaped your lips, and he returned one just as easily. Up this close, the planes of his face were defined by the delicate light provided from the fairy lights. Shyly you shared glances, neither of you knowing quite how to deal with the charged anticipation in the air.

“Will you...come to the last Quidditch game tomorrow?” He finally spoke, snapping your attention back to him.

“Only if I don’t have to wear one of your ugly jerseies.” Feeling bold, you leaned forward just a few inches, beginning to close the gap between you gradually.

“Fine,” he acquised, leaning forward just the same as you had, his breath fanning hot over your face. “In exchange for not wearing a jersey, how about you...” he tapped at his lips cheekily. A surge of excitement tumbled through you.

“That’s a shit way of asking me to kiss you for the first time, Choi.” Nevertheless you leaned forward further, bumping your nose against his own before you finally pecked him firmly on the lips. You felt ridiculously shy, like you were having your first kiss all over again, but Beomgyu smiled reassuringly, pulling your hands into his own and linking them together. The touch encouraged you both, and your lips collided with more assurance than before.

The faint scent of pumpkin juice lingered on his lips, and you wondered how many bottles he’d drank before finally deciding to come find you. Finally you both sought a new breath, taking a moment to close your eyes and collect yourself. When they fluttered back open you saw Beomgyu staring back at you intently, pupils reflecting the strands of lights strung above you.

He mumbled something so quietly that you couldn’t even hear it at your close distance.

“What was that?” You asked, wondering if you’d caught the end of a charmingly romantic thought.

“I said you’re in need of practice.” He smirked, leaning back of his hands cockily.

“Fuck you, man,” you slapped at his shoulder with a firm clap. He gasped, a hand covering his heart as if he were being sworn into a committee.

“Already? I didn’t take you for such an impure heart!” Another hearty laugh bounced around the library and you ducked your head into your hands, resigning to the fact that you were stuck with him.

[soupthatistohot]

Sk8 headcannons because brainrot

- Langa doesn't know how to swim except the doggy paddle

- Reki wanted a dog as s kid so badly that he made an entire presentation about it for his parents and got his sister involved, too. They had to tell him no, because they couldn't afford it and because dogs require a lot of attention. Reki wouldn't speak to his mother for two days.

- Reki has definitely tried to skateboard in high heels before and he definitely failed

- Miya's YouTube recommended page consists solely of playthroughs and theories for his favorite RPGs

- Kojiro was a pokemon kid

- Langa had braces in middle school but hardly anyone noticed because of how quiet he was. His mouth was almost always closed, and he smiled with his mouth closed for photos, so there is no photo documentation that he ever even had braces

- Langa doesn't take a lot of photos, not at all. If he does, it's of nature or whatever. He has, like, one photo of him and Reki in his phone.

- Reki takes more videos than photos. If vine was around when he was a teen, he definitely would've made a viral video

- Kaoru got the first piercing because Kojiro dared him to, thinking he wouldn't actually do it. After that he just kept getting them because he thought they looked cool. (Though he definitely did that first piercing himself and it got infected. He went to tattoo parlors after that)

- the only person in the past five years who has seen Kaoru in anything but a yukata (or similar traditional clothing) is Kojiro. Apparently Kaoru wears shorts in his own home occasionally.

- Reki has long eyelashes

- Reki always has to remind Langa to wear sunscreen, even on cloudy days. Langa did NOT inherit any genes from his mother that would allow him to tan, and thus was constantly either a) white as a sheet or b) red as a tomato

- as soon as Koyomi learned what "gay" was, she looked at Reki and Langa and decided that they were secretly dating (they were not, but she wasn't that far off, it was just mutal pining!)

- Reki knows that airpods are useful and convenient and he can definitely afford them but refuses to ever buy them

- Reki likes grape flavored popsicles and Langa and Miya agree that this is a crime against humanity

- Miya loves sour candy and once made Reki and Langa eat seven warheads at once with him. He was majorly unaffected, but the other two actually physically damaged their tastebuds

- Miya eats lemons in restaurants (including Sia La Luce, and it drives Kojiro crazy)

- Miya doesn't like lemonade, though. It's too sugary.

- Before "S", Hiromi's persona of Shadow lived online as an internet troll

- Langa gets weirdly invested in internet drama even though he doesn't know the first thing about the people they're about (he could tell you the whole timeline of the Tati and James Charles drama tho)

- Reki's English writing is just as bad as Langa's Kanji, and they try to help each other with it but get a little frustrated

- While Miya has great grades in school, it's not because it comes easily to him (like skating). He actually works really hard, and he struggles the most with reading and writing. His favorite class is art.

- Kojiro is a truth serum drunk

- Reki really likes sunflowers, and just flowers in general. He'd probably never say it out loud to anyone but Hiromi or maybe Langa, but he just thinks they're pretty and appreciates their beauty.

- Langa is not a picky eater, but he will, under NO circumstances, eat anything with mustard on it.

- Kojiro taught himself how to braid hair in middle school using Kaoru's hair (he very reluctantly let Kojiro do this)

- Langa used to have a lisp as a child, but he eventually grew out of it

- Reki has glasses with a fairly weak prescription that he just doesn't use (they're supposed to be "just for school" but he really cannot be bothered. plus, he heard that if you don't wear glasses when you need them that your vision won't worsen and might even improve)

- Kojiro not only speaks fluent Italian, but also is proficient in French and even speaks English well enough to get his point across

- Reki loved reading American comic books as a kid. It was just too bad that he had no clue what the dialogue was. He'd try to come up with the dialogue himself, though, and his mom would always find him muttering to himself in various voices when reading

- Reki's headband was a gift from Oka

- Almost anyone in Reki's school could call him their friend, but he never really hung out with anyone (but his other friend who used to skate) until Langa came along

- Langa is a good dancer, Reki... is not (but he has fun!)

- Kaoru can break dance, but no one but Kojiro knows this (for now)

- Miya never has a huge growth spurt like everyone expects him to, he remains below average in height

- Reki doesn't watch a lot of shows, but he LOVES Avatar: the Last Airbender (I assume that show has been translated into Japanese??)

- Langa straightened Reki's hair once with his mother's iron. He burned both his ears multiple times

- Miya actually has a convoluted haircare routine

- Kojiro got Kaoru into the habit of always carrying around lip balm with him (whenever Kaoru would ask to borrow his, he would make an indirect kissing joke. eventually Kaoru just got his own)

- Reki definitely had a crush on the friend that taught him to skate and just did not realize it at the time because he thought he only liked girls

- Reki sleeps under his sheets and blanket all year round

- Langa had terrible acne in his early teen years and he was an early bloomer

- Reki had a tooth gap before he got braces

- Miya wears Invisalign, Reki and Langa insist that he’ll never know the torture that was having braces and remark how “kids these days” have it so easy

- Langa is good at history, mostly because he has a decent memory

- Kojiro got homesick very often when he was in culinary school in Italy, and he called his parents every Sunday

- Langa had a kindergarten girlfriend who was absolutely heartbroken when Langa told her that he just wasn’t that interested. She threw a temper tantrum and punched Langa in the face.

- Hiromi was in a long-term relationship with a girl in high school, but they broke up when she left for college. It took him a while to recover.

- Hiromi is better at mariokart than Miya and it pisses him off

- no one wants to be in the room when Kaoru and Kojiro play mariokart against each other

- Reki got sick a lot as a kid, usually just the common cold (which was kind of ironic given the climate he grew up in)

- Langa never really held anyone’s hand (not since he was a literal child, anyway) until he met Reki. He then discovered that he liked having his hand held

- Kaoru wears eyeliner to “S”

- it takes Langa a few months to really start to unpack his boxes and decorate his room when he moves to Okinawa

[folkloreguk]

an angel for a demon (2)

A/N: Part one came out like two years ago lmao but I’ve always wanted to write another part, and here it finally is! I’m always open to feedback of any kind! x

genre: smut, optional bias (male), demon!bias, angel!reader, reader’s first time, unprotected sex bc we pretend angels and demons can’t have babies or STDs apparently

words: ~ 3.4 k

PART 1

PART 3

Three days had passed since you had begun to live with him. It had taken you some time to get used to your new surroundings and to realize this is where you would spend most of your time from now on. His place was not what angels called beautiful. Had it been yours, it would have been filled with antique statues of heavenly beings, light, soft colors and comfortable pillows and blankets. But his taste differed gravely from yours. He had a love for black marble and accents of red. Not the beautiful, bright red of strawberries in summer. It was dark crimson, like deoxygenated blood fresh out of a wound. You felt like you had entered a side wing of hell itself, sometimes. But you knew hell had to be much, much worse.

On the second day, you had set yourself the challenge of making the place feel at least slightly homier. No one who entered this apartment would, even in their wildest dreams, assume that an angel lived there. Although you weren’t sure you could call yourself that, anymore. Your trip to the grocery store was the most humane thing you had ever done on earth, but surely wouldn’t stay the last. You wondered, while you had strolled around the isles, whether one day you could find yourself working a job on earth, now that you couldn’t call heaven home no more. You still had the desire to help the humans, and maybe you could earn a living whilst doing so.

On that note, you had pondered countless times how a demon could afford the luxury he lived in. But he wasn’t one to tell you about his day when he returned home after being out all night. He called it ‘demon business’ and ‘nothing that should concern a little angel’. One day, you would winkle it out of him. Although maybe you really would be better off not knowing. But you knew, as always that sooner or later your curiosity would get the best of you.

When he came home on the second day and laid eyes on the cotton candy-colored flowers on the table, he couldn’t help but smirk at how proud you were. The contrast was stark against the dark ebony table and seemed like an accurate representation of how you had felt in his home.

“If you wanted me to bring you flowers you could have just said so,” he said.

“I like going out to the store myself sometimes,” you replied. He was always so stern when he returned home. Sometimes he had tired eyes, and often he seemed physically exhausted. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his strained expression softened. Then, he’d stroke away a strand of your hair and gaze at you with utmost admiration. He had offered to buy you whatever your heart desired, but your angel life had never required you to have possessions. There was no greed or yearning for luxury, and you liked it that way.

One thing, however, you never seemed to get enough of on earth. No matter how many books you opened and got lost in, you always wanted more. And he knew of your wish to learn more about the world. He had gifted you books of philosophy, biology and physics, and yet he had no idea it wasn’t science that interested you the most.

Every night you lay awake for too long, reflecting on what he had said to you that one night. That there was more for you to learn. Before him, you never knew what real pleasure felt like – you weren’t supposed to, even now – but now that you understood, you only wanted to feel it again and again. A few times you had contemplated asking him to show you more. To let you feel the pure bliss of what heaven called sinning again. But he seemed tired when he returned home, and when he didn’t you were too scared to approach him with such a topic. Plus, you didn’t even know how to. Too new was the idea of you – an angel – even thinking of doing such unholy things.

So you spent your days pacing around the apartment, sitting by the window, looking out at the city and waiting for him to come home. One night, you couldn’t fall asleep, as on many other occasions. He wasn’t there next to you, and the bed felt too big for just one lonely angel in it. There was an almost burning sensation between your legs. Once again, you squeezed your eyes shut and thought of other things – floating on clouds, watching older angels’ wings flatter, inspecting your little village you used to guard from above. But nothing helped. It all led back to black eyes, razor teeth, a sharp tongue and hands so hellish in their actions, you should have wished he had never touched you. And yet you never did.

Your eyes shot open when you heard the shower turn on. The alarm clock on the table read 1:57 am. Not so patiently, you waited a few minutes until the sound of the water died down. Then, you tip-toed out of the room and down the hall.

The sight of him made your cheeks heat up. He was sat, in the dark, on the sofa. A towel was around his waist, a few drops of water glistening on his bare chest as he lifted the glass of alcohol to his lips.

“What are you doing standing and staring, little angel? Why don’t you come join me?” he suddenly asked. Your heart skipped a beat at his voice. Heaven help me now, you thought.

“I thought you didn’t…,” you started, slowly moving across the room as if you were floating.

“I didn’t notice you?” he finished your sentence. You hummed a quiet yes. “Your glow is hard to miss.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. Was he saying, that just as he had a dark aura around him, you radiated a bright one? It made sense to you. You stopped in your tracks when you stood in front of him.

“You’re wearing your angel dress again,” he pointed out. He had brought you clothes, but nothing felt as right on your body as your white dress you had always worn.

“I always sleep in it,” you said. “You never see it, since you’re never here.”

“Does my little angel miss me?” he said. His dark eyes watched you intently, but they softened when he realized you had meant your words. “Come here, let me make it up to you.”

Not knowing what he meant by those words, you plopped down next to him.

“I meant come here,” he repeated, tapping his lap. Oh. Obediently, you swung one of your legs over his waist. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the fact that his towel was the only thing between your center and his bare skin. Carefully, you watched his eyes for instructions or assurance. You kept your hands tightly by your sides, not daring to touch his skin that shined so beautifully in the moonlight. It was almost ironic, how ethereal his perfectly sculpted muscles appeared to you.

“Tell me, angel, do you sometimes think about what we did three days ago?” he asked, softly brushing his fingers along your arm. You should have felt ashamed to admit it. But with the way he watched you, he seemed to already guess your answer.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” you said, the words spilling out after keeping them in for too long. “I want to know more.”

He smirked, hooded black eyes watching your every breath while his head remained on the backrest of the sofa.

“Is that so?” he almost teased. “Why don’t you kiss me, then? Go ahead.”

Hesitantly, you bent forward until your forehead was almost touching his. Now, you didn’t look into his intimidating gaze anymore, but instead the closeness only made you more nervous. But more prominent than your nerves was your curiosity and your desire you hadn’t been able to shut out for the past days. You smelled a faint note of alcohol before you softly pressed your lips against his. Your kiss was the tender flutter of butterfly wings, like a singular snowflake landing on warm skin, as careful as a little bird in a lion’s cage.

But he kissed back, so overwhelmingly and suddenly, it robbed your breath in an instant. His body straightened up now, arms pulling you closer to his chest. Humming contently, he took your lifeless hands from your sides and placed them on his shoulders. His warm skin was inviting, making it easy for you to melt into his touch. Still, you weren’t used to this feeling. Maybe you would never get used to it. Perhaps it was supposed to be this exciting every single time. He breathed against your mouth heavily and his tongue swiped across your lips. The sensation was enticing and combined with his coaxing hands digging into your waist, your guilt washed away far too quickly. But there had been no redemption after the previous time and there wouldn’t be one now. Or ever. For a moment, you pulled away, needing air.

“Too much? Too fast?” he asked, cradling your face in his hands. A rush of comfort overcame you.

“No, I’m fine. It just feels – really good,” you said.

“Of course it does,” he bragged, smirking infamously.

“Can you…I want you to touch me…like you did last time,” you said. Even you were surprised at yourself. You could have just waited for him and he surely would have made you feel amazing. But now that you knew what it could feel like, you weren’t able to swallow your impatience.

“Such a sinful confession from such holy lips,” he said, voice dripping honey while he brushed two of his fingers across those very lips. “I wonder what other things those could do.”

What could he possibly be talking about? How much was there for you to try out? Whatever it was, you wanted to do it all. You had no idea what had come over you. Was there a secret demon that had taken possession of your body without notice? Or maybe you were simply an angel tired of acting like one.

Slowly, his hands dropped from your sides and to your hips. All while he watched your face like it was his favorite meantime to make you squirm under his touch. When he progressed to your thighs, something dropped in your stomach. Again, your body reacted before your mind did and you wanted to press your legs together. It felt familiar, but just as thrilling as the first time. His head tilted slightly as if to ask ‘do you like this?’ as he lifted the hem of your satin dress. And how you liked it.

You were very aware of being bare in front of him. So, in order to avoid feeling his eyes on your body, you bent forward again to kiss him. Bad idea – because the lack of oxygen and the loss of your sight when you closed your eyes only intensified the need. His fingertips were fleeting, rather non-demon-like, but you knew how fast he could flip his actions, had he wanted to.

They ghosted over your slit, collecting your wetness that had been pooling there. At even the slightest contact of his finger on your clit, you let out a quiet noise. He had been biting his lip, but when he heard you, his eyes met yours in an instant and he smirked.

“Let me hear you, little angel,” he said, before placing a kiss on your neck. While he continued to suck purple marks into your skin, his fingers toyed around your center, figuring out what made you react in the best way. And as the angel you were, always eager to please, you made sure you didn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. It felt weird, noticing the sounds he produced from you so involuntarily, but the more you concentrated on the feeling of his hand between your legs, the easier it was to ignore them.

Maybe you were easy to please, or perhaps you were completely see-through for him. It occurred to you he had you figured out head to toe. How did he know exactly which spots to touch to have you clinging to him, as if you would have fallen had he not held you? He drew random figures on your clit, variating the pace just to keep you on edge right where he wanted you. Now and then, his digits slid further down to your core, almost entering you but not quite yet. Your moans came out in a muffled manner as you had your face buried where his neck and shoulder met.

“Look at me, angel,” he said. So you did. No matter what sort of menace could have possibly lay behind his black orbs, the sound of his voice made you want to give him everything. And judging by the way your hips were moving and pushing against his hands by themselves you had already given your body to him. Against all odds, after all the horror stories you had been told to ensure an angel like you would stay far away from hellish beings, you trusted him.

“What a disgrace…They kept you locked up in heaven all this time,” he spoke. “I should have had you all along. You should have had me.”

It had never occurred to you that you could have looked at it this way. You had been happy in heaven. But then again, you hadn’t known what you had been missing. That’s when he slowly inserted one of his fingers into you. The sensation was unusual, but then he curled his digit and you understood.

“Oh god,” you let out when he touched a certain spot inside of you. It felt so right, you wondered why when you were able to feel this way, you should have been abstinent all along.

“Not exactly a good time to bring up god, huh?” he said, teeth nibbling on your neck. You laughed before you could have stopped yourself, and he looked stunned. But then, his lips curled into a malicious and content grin. At the same time, he added another finger into your core. His thumb remained rubbing against your clit, and like last time, you could feel a knot tying in your stomach as time went on. A string of whines and whimpers fell from your lips and your eyes shut tightly. But he decided you’d have to wait longer for your release.

“Do you think you can handle more?” he asked. You sighed when he retracted his hand from your core and watched as he brought his fingers up to his lips to taste you. His gaze didn’t let you decide whether he eyed you like prey or his most treasured thing in the world.

“Yes, I want you to show me,” you said quietly, almost breathless from the sight in front of you.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, then,” he announced. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked with him. This time, you didn’t hesitate to get onto his black bedsheets. It had become one of your favorite places to be in his apartment by now and the familiarity of it took away some of your nerves.

“I might be a demon, but I promise I can be gentle,” he said. His eyes were probably the most mellow they had ever been since you had met him. Carefully, he helped you slip out of your dress. “So don’t be scared, little angel.”

You had to admit, when he removed his towel from his waist and your eyes fell on his hard member, you weren’t sure if you would be okay. But then he bent down to you and kissed you. His hands softly stroked your cheeks, making it a hard contrast from his devilish image.

“Still sure?” he asked between kisses. It was like he was sucking the fear out of you, although he should have terrified you all along. You nodded and hummed but then changed your voice to a small whimper when he used his hand to run his cock over your slick center. Ever so carefully, he pushed himself inside of you. The stretch was uncomfortable, at first. He must had noticed by reading your face, because his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“It’ll feel better in a bit, I promise,” he said. You relaxed your muscles the moment he kissed you again, his plan of distracting you surely working. When he had completely filled you up, he stayed in place while your tongues touched and you moaned at the feeling. It felt like he had always meant to be there, on top of you, inside of you.

“If you need me to stop or slow down, you’ll tell me, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. Once again you debated how you ended up this way. In bed with a demon. And said demon had his hooded black eyes on you, while he thrusted into you ever so slowly, and you couldn’t believe how out-of-this-world-perfect he looked. Although you would surely need more time to get used to the feeling, there was a hint of pleasure you felt every time he dragged his cock against your walls and that once special spot he had touched before.

Upon hearing how he moaned for the first time, you realized it wasn’t just touch that could make your stomach clench in a deep desire to be close to him. It sounded animalistic and you kept your eyes on the way his sharp teeth dug into his bottom lip. You sucked in a breath when he caressed your breasts, fingertips toying with your nipples.

“This is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get, right, little angel?” he spoke, and his gloating smile was so wicked, but handsome, right at that moment. You could only hum a ‘yes’. His lips on your neck were gentle, but your head spun whenever his teeth grazed your angel skin.

“You wouldn’t like it there, either way,” you said. His hand snaked down your body, between your legs where you had been missing them. He let out a growl-like moan when you clenched around his cock from the sudden added pleasure. In no time, he found your clit and used his skilled fingers, and he was right, this should have been the definition of heaven.

“And why is that?” he asked. “Because I couldn’t have you this way, in heaven?”

“Exactly,” you whimpered. “Oh- my-“

The desire to close your legs around him became bigger with each second, the knot in your belly tightening and your mind clouding with nothing but bliss.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my own personal heaven,” he said. His free hand brushed away your hair delicately. “Are you gonna let go for me, sweet angel?”

You weren’t sure how to let go, exactly. But if by that he meant for you to close your eyes and just let the feeling wash over you, you would - without a choice - do so. Your high made your back arch against his chest and a small cry escaped your lips. He pushed his digits down on your center, slower now, but making sure to draw out every last second of your orgasm.

He had been speeding up his thrusts but then he pulled out, not wanting to cause you discomfort due to overstimulation. With his hand around his cock and quick movements of his wrist, he managed to bring on his own release, letting his cum spill out onto your thighs. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until you finally opened your eyes again, blinking tiredly and wetting your dry lips. He lowered his head until your foreheads touched. The more you looked into his black eyes, the more at home they made you feel.

“How was that, angel?” he asked, his breathing still unsteady.

“Heavenly,” you replied, pulling him in for a kiss. Even against his lips, you recognized his devilish smirk. And up to that point, you had believed ‘heaven on earth’ was just some silly little human saying. Until he proved you wrong.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without. 

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him. 

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison. 

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved. 

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?” 

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor. 

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand. 

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father. 

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

[ziaxkawaii]

Worth more than some perceive (Victorian!Todoroki X F!Reader) Part 1

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Warnings: None.

Other: Quirks aren't a thing in this particular story and Endeavour's just being a piece of crap

Summary: Living hand to mouth was not easy in the Victorian ages, but you managed. Being nothing more than a dressmaker surrounded by rich people, you doubted someone would be interested in you. But you were proven wrong when you occasionally started to find neatly wrapped up little gifts on your threshold in the mornings.

Part 2 Here!     Part 3 Here!

~"(Name)! We got another order!" Your older brother William shouted from behind a corner. You really weren't paying attention to what he was saying as you were sewing a delicate silver ornament on the front of a beautiful dress.

~The ornament was what would catch most of the attention upon first look at the gown, so it had to be sewn perfectly, and by a steady hand. So you couldn't afford to make any mistakes or you would have hell to pay later.

~"(Name)!! Didn't you hear what I said?" Your brother enters the backroom of the boutique where you were working along with some papers in his hands. He looked and sounded a bit annoyed, but you knew it was unintentional. It has been especially a stressful week.

~"I did, but I am kind of in the middle of something here..." You trailed off as you stuck out your tongue in concentration and still not looking in your brother's direction.

~"Oh, apologizes sister. I thought you were having your break." He spoke more softly this time as he took a seat at his desk that was right next to yours.

~"I would be, but I have to finish this gown before closing. The customer said they would come to pick it up today."

~"I've noticed you have been working more lately. You must be more tired than usual." He pointed out, with a saddened tone.

~"Thank you for reminding me." You flatly commented as you continued to work.

~"I didn't mean to insult you, I'm just worried about your health." You scowled as you finally finished sewing the ornament and cut off the excess thread.

~"Yes, I have been working more lately since I also have to do a part of your work too. For example, last week you were gone for two days when you went to market our shop to the extravagant ball that had wealthy people from all over the capital." You still weren't looking at him.

~"And while you were spending time talking to very important people. I was here at the boutique doing my AND your work for those days." You looked over your masterpiece. Looking for any imperfections or accidental tea stains, finding none. "Plus, you wore one of my most expensive, delicate, and time-consuming suits." You continued your rant.

~"I have never made anything as high-quality as that suit, so if you somehow managed to get even one stain on it, you best believe I would have made you beg for mercy on your knees." You slipped the gown on a mannequin and spread the hem of the dress and took a step back to really see how it would look in the action.

~"It is breathtaking." William commented behind you.

~"William...." You said warningly as you finally turned to him, brushing non-existing dust off your dress skirt and long dress sleeves before crossing your arms. You could admit that right now you may act a little too harshly but you were tired and it clouded your judgment a bit.

~"Alright, alright, I know. But I already told you why all of it was necessary. We have to get our name out there, and what better way to promote our glorious suits and gorgeous dresses than letting them see them see first hand! You should have seen how intrigued and impressed all the men and women were when they saw me." He tried to lift your spirit by smiling brightly and jumping up and down a little.

~He wasn't wrong. If you two wanted more customers than the locals, you had to expand your promotion. And it took lots of effort and skill to lure people to consider buying your clothing, and William was good at that. And since you were a bit more advanced in sewing than William, it meant that you could get work done faster, hence you could handle the workload if he had to leave for a while. So you were always left to sew alone at the boutique.

~But it still bothered you.

~"I know, but it still frustrates me that it's always you who gets to go to the magnificent balls, wearing luxurious clothing while I'm here by myself working my arse off." You ranted while you paced back and forth in front of him. “They probably thought you tailored that suit and not me.”

~"I specifically told them that you, my dear sister, had been the one who made it." He grabbed your shoulder, in a last effort to stop your nonsense blabbering.

~"And you think they were listening? "A young woman couldn't possibly make something so prestigious and form-fitting for a businessman." "She surely couldn't have made it." "There is no way she designed it." I've heard them all!"

~"Calm down (Name)... You're breathing heavily again..." You didn't even realize you were. You took a couple of deep breaths and gazed at the floor.

~"It's just so... unfair..." You said depressed as you hugged him. You knew it had to be this way, but after a while, you start to grave for a taste of something new and exciting. Not the same old, same old bread that you have been chewing for the last few years.

~William knew how much more credit he was getting than you since most people automatically assume he's the one who designs the suits and accessories because he's the man who people first meet. In reality, it's you who does that. You're the one who basically runs the boutique, not him. William hugged you tightly back.

~"I know (Name)... I know."

~~~

~"Oh, did I forget to mention that a customer had booked an hour-appointment for this morning?" William asked as he went through some mail at his desk. You were just walking down the stairs from your shared home with your tea in hand.

~It was very convenient to have the boutique on the first floor and then your living quarters on the second. Affordable and comfortable, that's what you say. And you were always on time to open the store for customers.

~And with you being happy for once in a long time as you got a good night's rest, you figured that this day would be over in a breeze. You sipped your drink and sat down at your own work desk.

~"Yes, you forgot to mention. Did they say anything special in the letter?" You inquired.

~"Hmm..." He quickly read the letter again. "They said they wanted us to make a suit for them. Said that they would discuss more once they're here."

~"Interesting, It has been a while since we've made a custom suit. Did you get the name of the customer?"

~William looked at the letter again to see who the suit it was for, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers as he read the name.

~"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed as he jumped from his seat.

~"What is it, brother?" You questioned as you put down your empty teacup.

~"The customer is Enji Todoroki!!!"

~"WHAT!!!" It was your turn to shout and jump up from your seat. By what chance was someone so well known as Mr. Todoroki, coming to buy a suit from your small boutique?

~"Are you serious!? You mean... the owner of the steam train factory!?" You jumped from your seat ecstatic.

Enji Todoroki was well known for his very serious and hypercritical personality, and he even made a bigger name for himself when he funded the designing and building of the newest and the fastest train in the country. You didn't really favor him for his gruff and intimidating attitude, nor did your brother, but this was an amazing opportunity to get more publicity for your business since he is, a well-known and respected man amongst the wealthy.

~"Exactly him!!!" He confirmed.

~"I can't believe this!!! This is amazing for the business if he is satisfied with the outcome of the suit!" 

~"You said it, sister." He smiled brightly.

~Just then, the doorbell rang in the main area and multiple pairs of footsteps could be heard step inside the boutique. You and William looked at each other and breathed in together, as a silent language to tell the other to 'calm down and act natural'. As though you weren't shouting just a second ago.

~William exited the back room first with you following suit with a tape measure hanging around your neck and a freshly dusted off dress.

~The actual boutique of the building wasn't anything too special nor expensive looking. In one room, there was a giant front desk with plenty of table space, the whole wall behind the desk was filled with different colored and/or patterned fabrics, the right side of the boutique had different styled dresses and suits neatly hanging on clothing racks for customers who wished to spend a bit less on looking good, and the whole left side of the store held a large mirror, a couple of couches for guests to sit on, and a folding screen for privacy.

~For rich people, it may look cheap, plain, or downright shameful. But for you and your brother, it was your pride and home.

~"Good morning Sir! Welcome to The Siblings Attire and Accessories! How may we help you, gentlemen?" William greeted the two males plus their butler.

~"When you see such a fine suit presented to you, you would think the tailor would have a better taste in furniture." Mr. Todoroki shamelessly commented and you and William internally winced. It was your first time meeting the man and you were already tempted to give him a piece of your mind. Instead, you silently exhaled and bit your lip.

~"We apologize if our shop looks a bit flimsy to your taste, but I can assure you that our clothing won't disappoint you." You stepped up next to your brother.

~"I sure hope so." You weren't listening to him, but instead, your attention shifted to the person standing a bit away from him. The male's eye-catching two-colored hair immediately caught your attention as soon as you walked into the room, and now that you had a better look at them, he seemed to have even different colored eyes.

~He also had a painful-looking scar over his left eye that somehow made his already interesting aspects look even more intriguing. Or perhaps it was a birthmark? Either way, he was handsome, you were not gonna lie.

~Clearly he didn't enjoy being near Mr. Todoroki, or maybe even here in the first place. You couldn't tell from his mildly annoyed look while he kept a fair distance. Poor man.

~"Over a week ago, I attended a ball that you also happened to be present at, and I saw your high-quality suit. I need you to make a similar one for my son Shoto. We are going to be attending another ball and he needs a new suit." He explained and the whole time he didn't even spare a glance at you, as though you weren't even there. But his son did give you a mute acknowledgment, which made you feel better.

~"Certainly. If you could come this way Mr. Todoroki, I will take your measurements." You motioned with your hand for the dual-hair-colored male to walk over to the mirror as you grabbed a notepad and a pen from a drawer. He complied and went to stand in front of the mirror.

~"Aren't you supposed to take his measurements." The older Todoroki asked your brother.

~"Um... Pardon?" He inquired back and you turned to look at the nobleman.

~"I just was just wondering. You're the one who's going to sew it after all?" You gripped the notepad in your hand tightly out of anger. Who does this man think he is to assume who's gonna make what, and expect to be right? 

~"I apologize Mr. Todoroki, but my sister was the one who tailored the suit I wore to the ball last week. So she will be making your son's suit." William corrected him nervously as you sensed the fire of anger burning behind you.

~"She will be sewing the suit?" Mr. Todoroki inquired, sounding like he believed this was some kind of a joke.

~You were very close to saying something to the bastard, but the Todoroki whose name you learned was Shoto beat you to it.

~"Shut it father, it doesn't matter. Let her just do her job." He said in an annoyed tone.

~Fortunately, Mr. Todoroki didn't have to be told twice as he let the subject go with a 'tch' and a look of irritation towards both your way. Shoto 'tch'ed in response and began to take his coat and hat off. He handed the articles of clothing to his butler and lifted his arms to let you take his measurements.

~You began to measure him and asking basic questions such as what kind of vest he wanted over his dress shirt and how long he wanted the coat to be.

~He decided on a basic five-button vest with a coat that ended at the back of his knees. He wanted no ruffles on his outfit except for the neck piece.

~"I prefer not to have them." He expressed.

~"I understand." You said as you scribbled down some notes in a hurry. "Now what fabrics do you want your suit to be made from?" You led him to the wall where you stored your fabrics. Letting him have a look at them.

~"If you don't have anything special on your mind, I can recommend some colors for you if you'd like."

~"Please do."

~"Well let's see..." You trailed off as you thought deeply. "I think this royal blue would suit you well along with white and pale gray." You grabbed the tree rolls of fabric and placed them on the counter behind you for Shoto to see how the colors looked next to each other.

"I can make the coat mainly from this royal blue, and I can add some accessories to it such as buttons or other details. The dress pants could be made from this white, and the vest from the gray. I could even add a chain for your pocket watch on the vest." You rambled as you quickly sketched a rough picture of the finished outfit.

~Shoto listened intently as you continued on explaining what would look best on him and questioned if he wanted to make any changes. He thought it was nice to have a say in what he wanted to wear, instead of it being decided for him. Every time, he'd feel uncomfortable wearing whatever the other tailors made for him, but he didn't want to waste their hard effort. Even if he did not appreciate the suit.

~This was a new experience for him and he liked it. You weren't pushing him to make the suit from the most expensive and uncomfortable materials. On the contrary, you let him feel the fabrics and then decide what he wanted.

~For once in his life, he enjoyed the suit tailoring process.

~"Oh, I apologize. I am rambling again." You looked downcast, embarrassed.

~"It's quite alright, but about the vest, could it be made from a fabric with a pattern instead?" he politely asked.

~"Of course! Which one would you prefer?" You pointed to the gray fabrics that were each differently patterned.

~"I would like that one." He pointed to a roll that was out of both of your reach.

~"Alright, let me get it for you." You spoke as you grabbed a step ladder and placed it in front of the shelf. 

~You grabbed the hem of your dress and carefully climbed up to grab the roll, but forgot how heavy the roll actually was, so you started to lose your balance on the ladder. Shoto noticed your struggle and swiftly came to your aid by grabbing the roll from the other end with one hand while the other went to your back.

~"Careful, you could fall and injure yourself." He cautioned you and you blushed slightly.

~"T-Thank you, I'll be more careful next time." You said and placed the roll on the table. 

~You continued on designing the suit while your brother William kept your other guests entertained. Soon you two came up with a plan and Shoto seemed happy with it. All of the men left the boutique shortly after with Shoto promising he'll come again later that week for the first fitting.

~For some reason, you were looking forward to meeting him again.

~"Goodness! That was intense." You sighed heavily as you sat down on the couch with your sketch-notepad on your lap.

~"Not sure what you were expecting. They are a part of the Todoroki family and they tend to thrive for perfection. So of course they would want the perfect suit." William sat next to you.

~"Still. What really made this appointment easier was that this time the customer wasn't demanding ridiculous things or asking for a lower price. They even paid the 50% upfront without even batting an eye." You recalled.

~"They know what they are doing, and as long as we do what we're paid for, we won't be having any problems." He said.

~"Talking about problems, I'm still kind of upset about what Mr. Todoroki said..."

~"I understand your issue (Name), but it's better to just let it go. We must know our place, and that is below them." He reminded you and you sighed in defeat.

~"You're right…

~~~

~The day of the first fitting came, and Shoto Todoroki walked inside the boutique accompanied by the same butler as last time, except this time his father wasn't there. 

~This fact brought some form of relief to him as he wasn't sure how much longer he could tolerate his father's presence. Every minute Shoto spent in the same room as his old man when they had guests over or when they were at some meaningless ball, Shoto would imagine a pocket watch in his mind, count down the seconds and wait until he would be allowed to leave.

~In retrospect, one could say Shoto was happy to be in the small boutique. 

~It was a perfect excuse to be away from home for an hour longer than "intended". And since he wouldn't be allowed to move out of the household until he got married, these kinds of excuses were the types he was seeking for more often than not. And he gladly took every one of them.

~The familiar soft ring of the bell a top of the door signaled his arrival and shortly footsteps jogged out of the back room. It was the male tailor, William. Shoto looked around the boutique and didn't see the other tailor.

~"Ah, Good morning Sir! If my memory's not mistaken, you came in for a first fitting, am I right?" William said with the same enthusiasm as Shoto witnessed last time. This time however William's eyes looked a bit tired, which made Shoto wonder if the man had not slept enough.

~Why would he be concerned? He too has nights when he had to be working every once in a while. It was normal, nothing too serious.

~"Yes. You don't need to rush anything, I can wait until you're done with your current work." Shoto informed while taking off his hat.

~"Oh, I am sorry if you forgot, but I'm not the one responsible for your suit. I'll see if my sister is available. Please have a seat." William responded and disappeared into the back room again. Shoto paused for a moment but then shrugged off his coat and gave it to his butler to hold. 

~That's right, how could he forget.

~The white and red-haired male made himself comfortable on the couch as he silently thought. He felt like he was lucky to have you as his tailor. You sounded so inspired, motivated, and excited as you designed his suit. People with a passion for what they did, more often performed better than those who didn't.

~And it showed on the finished product. He wanted to know more about how you worked. How passionate one could be about something. It interested him for some reason.

~A few minutes passed by and there was no sign of either of the siblings, not even a sound could be heard. He wasn't getting impatient, but rather curious about what was keeping (Name).

~He didn't need to think about it much longer when he heard rapid heel clicks coming from the back room. Soon (Name) stood in the door frame with a pile of clothing in her hands, she bowed in courtesy.

~"I apologize for the wait. I was in the middle of sewing and you apparently told William that you could wait. Oh, and how are you?" You walked over to him. Now that you stood closer, Shoto could see the similar dark circles under your eyes too. For some reason, the sight made him sad this time around.

~"No need to apologize, I am in no hurry. And I am feeling good."

~"Alright then, let's start." You placed the pile of clothing on a small round table next to the mirror and handed him the fully finished white dress shirt and pants. Shoto took them and walked behind the folding screen to change.

~ a Few minutes later, he walked out and looked himself over in front of the mirror.

~"How does it feel? Any itchy spots? Is the fitting to your liking?" You questioned. Lightly tugging his shirt to the correct places and brushing off any hair or invisible dust on his shoulders out of instinct. You didn't realize it but Shoto noticed what you were doing, but he stayed silent.

~"They suit me perfectly, and I don't feel itchy at all." He commented as he looked at himself in the mirror. He really wasn't one to admire himself when he was in front of a mirror, but this time he couldn't help but look at himself as maybe for the first time in his life he felt comfortable while also looking good.

~"So nothing needs to be changed?"

~"No." He confirmed.

~"Excellent. Now let's try the vest." You said as you walked the few steps over to the round table. "I will have to apologize, for the vest is not completely finished." You held the piece of clothing behind Shoto, gesturing that you would like for him to put it on. Shoto carefully bent his arms back and stuck his arms through the holes as you helped him to pull it on.

~The unfinished garment had strings hanging from everywhere, unsewn seams, and buttonless holes. Even so, it looked exactly like he imagined it would. The shade of grey and the patterns were very much to his liking and he could already imagine how much better it would look once the buttons were sewed on and the whole piece was tidied up.

~"I like it very much." He commented as he shifted so he could see it from different angles.

~"I'm glad it is to your liking." You nodded as you scribbled extra notes on your notepad.

~"May I ask what you are writing?" Shoto inquired curiously.

~"I'm writing some notes. Now that I see you dressed in the clothing, I now have a better picture in mind what details I can add to your jacket since it will be the most eye-catching garment out of all the others."

~Shoto stood there before the mirror, where it would have looked like he was looking at himself but in actuality, he was looking at the woman behind him in the mirror. He couldn't explain how he was still mesmerized by how much work and effort you were putting into his suit.

~In this day and age, most tailors wouldn't give way too much thought to what they were sewing. It was all about how many pieces of clothing they could sell with the least amount of time and expense because they had families to feed and couldn't afford to waste time.

~But here you were. Putting so much effort into a suit that many men like himself would only use a few, if not only once, and then have another one made.

~Shoto can't count all the times a suit was tailored for him because after he wore it once, he would throw it away, for it was too uncomfortable or it tore easily. He had a few suits that he liked, but they weren't too formal. More so for running errands and such.

~"I'm quite impressed with your commitment to your work." Shoto turned to you as you were still scribbling on the paper. You stopped as you heard him speak.

~"Pardon?" You were caught off guard by his question.

~"Don't get me wrong, I wasn't implying that I thought you would do a bad job. I'm implying that I'm surprised at how much thought you seem to put into the clothes you make." He clarified. You stood there for a moment thinking about how to respond.

~"You could say I am passionate about the suits and dresses that I make." You temporarily pocketed your notes and pencil into your dress’s pocket while gesturing for him to take off the vest. Shoto complied and gave it to you.

~"Growing up, my family didn't have enough money to buy new clothes. So I always admired all the people with gorgeous dresses and fancy suits along with decorated headpieces and hats. Only to dream to someday own such pieces of clothing myself." You recalled as you sat down on the couch and started scribbling into your notebook again.

~"My mother was always busy working around the house, so usually I along with William were the ones who patched up our family's clothes with a rusted needle. Over time I and William got quite good at sewing and made it into a small business amongst the neighbors who didn't know how to sew." You continued. 

~"As years passed and we got better at sewing, our parent's health only weakened. Before they passed, our mother told us to do what we were passionate about and to do our absolute best at it." You finished with your notes and stood up to motion to the boutique.

~"That's exactly what we did. We sold everything we owned, took a small loan, and bought this boutique and all the equipment, fabric, and necessities to open a tailoring business with all the money we had. We made a name for ourselves with the quality formal wear we sold and here we are." You finished the story with a smile, remembering all the hard times you and your brother had to endure to be where you are right now. Looking back, you didn't regret anything.

~While you sat on the couch talking away, Shoto stayed put and listened to your every word. After hearing how much you worked and endured in your life to be where you are now, he felt so intrigued by you. a Woman who became something from nothing along with her brother, while his job and fortune were practically guaranteed from the moment he was born.

~You and your brother deserve respect for working so much and sacrificing sleep for your craft, but some people don't always give any because they are wealthier. In Shoto's mind, it's pathetic. To act ungrateful and more important only because they are wealthier than the person they are buying from. 

~'How unfair.' Shoto thought. And there's nothing he could really do about it.

~"That's a very inspiring story." Shoto commented with a hint of emotion he rarely shows as he stepped behind the folding screen to change out of the clothes back to his own.

~"You think so?" You called from the other side as you folded the vest and hung it over your arm and waited for him to finish. 

~"Yes, it's very inspiring in my opinion to hear such stories. It proves that people can be worth much more than some perceive." He said and you didn't know what to say. From the moment you first saw this split-hair-colored male, you knew he would be an unusual customer. But surely you weren't expecting him to think so highly of people "lower" than him. 

~He talked with you without the usual snappish, rich people attitude, which by itself already hinted to you that he didn't care about the difference between the social classes. He didn't even seem to mind when you talked minutes upon minutes about his ordered clothes or your passion for sewing.

~'He indeed is an unusual customer.' You thought.

~"Should we arrange another time for another fitting?" Shoto inquired as he handed the clothes back to you in a neatly folded pile. You nodded to him as you took the clothes.

~"Let's do to that, I'm confident that by then I will have at least a jacket ready for you to try on, However, I can't promise if it will have any details..." You trailed off as you dug around under the front desk for an appointment book. You let out a small 'aha!' when your fingers hit the said book.

~You dug it out and opened it at the page you or William wrote last. "Hmmm, I'm free next Thursday at 8 AM." You proposed. He nodded.

~"That will work." You nodded and started writing away with the ink pen. a few seconds went by when he suddenly spoke.

~"I apologize, but could you do a small request of mine?" You looked up at him when you finished writing.

~"What were you thinking?" You inquired, closing the book in front of you.

~"Do you decorate other pieces of clothing such as top hats?" You quirked your eyebrow at the request.

~"I've done it a few times, but usually that's the hat makers job." You spoke honestly.

~"I was only thinking of something small to make it match the suit, and I already have a hat you could decorate." You thought about it.

~"Sure, you'll just have to pay a bit extra for the finished suit because I decorated the hat too." You reminded him.

~"Of course, thank you." He smiled slightly, satisfied that he managed to convince you. You blushed at the sight and you cleared your throat quietly to distract yourself.

~"Pleasure doing business with you." You said with a smile. He nodded and bid you goodbye. 

~Once Shoto stepped out of the boutique followed by his butler, whose existence you completely forgot about, you let out a loud sigh as you slumped onto the front desk. Thinking about the nice things Shoto said to you and his gentle smile.

~'What is wrong with me?' You pinched the bridge of your nose blushing as you couldn't stop your mind replaying the past half an hour in your head. You stayed there for a moment when William emerged from the back room, holding a cup of tea in his hand while the other rested in his front pocket. He must be taking a break.

~"How is it going?" He sipped at his tea.

~"Well... I have a lot of work on my hands, that's for sure."

~~~~~~~~~~

[nadineeb]

CRAZY RICH ASIANS -  MOVIE REVIEW

Hi dears! It’s me again. After my tech review, I’m navigated to this 2016 movie -  Crazy Rich Asians which came from the first book of its trilogy novel. This is always at the top of my list and my favourite movie. Hope you’ll enjoy this movie review as it feels like you’re watching it when you’re really just reading. All credits goes to the owner of the photos and GIFs. Thank you so much!! Enjoy it as much as I do. 

- XOXO, Nads <3

New York City - Rachel Chu, a young, lovely, part-timer economic professor who dates for over a year now, a hunk, eye-turner, history professor, Nick Young, at New York University. Rachel already introduced Nick at their family dinners but since Nick's family are from Singapore, he hasn't presented Rachel formally to them.

Nick's closest female cousin, a double - heiress in her family, an icon in the fashion industry, had already chatted with Rachel. She's the only one that has known her cousin's girlfriend. Astrid was always busy with the Paris' fashion week, shopping spree every week, buying ancient jewelries that costs a fortune and building her own family with her only son and her husband who's also busy gaining investors in his technology business. 

(Astrid down below)

Being that it's Araminta and Colin's wedding, Colin, who happens to be Nick's bestfriend and cousin since their diaper days. Colin wants him to come home for he is his bestman in his wedding. He wants to take this chance for Rachel to meet his gigantic family and have her experience his childhood in the country where he grew up. It's also a great opportunity for her to visit her college bestfriend, Peik Lin , who always asks her to come to Singapore where she lives.

Excitedly, Rachel asks his mom for help with what dress will she be wearing when she meets his boyfriend's Ah-ma (grandmother in Chinese) during the family dinner to welcome the guests of the wedding. She forcibly agrees when her mom tries to get her wear the red dress. Her mom says that red is a color of good luck in Chinese traditions and also a little bit more of a plus point from Nick's Ah-ma though she also got a pure Chinese blood but grew up in America which promotes an entirely different culture.

Amazed by their First Class seats and soft silk pair of pj's given by the airlines, Rachel couldn't contain her happiness while sipping on their glass of champagnes on their flight to Singapore. Astonished as she seemed, she nags Nick on why he can afford the First Class tickets to a country miles away from them while Nick uses her Netflix password. He admits that they are living "comfortably" which what exactly a member of a crazy rich family says.

As soon as they land in Singapore, Araminta and Colin, the soon-to-be wedded couple was there at the airport with balloons in their hands and joy in their auras. After introducing them to Rachel, they plan to eat Newton Food Centre, a place where they serve delicious street foods especially laksa curry and satay bowls from street food vendors which gained Michelin stars.

Right before the Nick's family welcome dinner, Rachel visits Peik Lin in her house which everything is brilliantly gold-plated and was inspired by the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. While catching up over their food for lunch, Peik Lin's mom interrogates her about her coming to Singapore. When she said that it's for the wedding of his boyfriend's bestfriend Colin, Peik Lin's family were shocked, they said that it is the wedding of the year and even them having that rich, they aren't invited to the wedding. It seems like Rachel didn't do a research at his boyfriend's family!

Peik Lin also warned Rachel that the Youngs are kind of snobbish that would belittle a commoner. She would not let Rachel wear that little red dress to the dinner so she gathered all of her fancy clothes and choose the best for Rachel to wear.

The Youngs - migrated in the 1800's to the small island of Singapore from their main land, China  with a vast amount of fortune. They started real-estates business until this family became most probably the landlords of Singapore.

Nick escorted Rachel and Peik Lin to his Ah-ma's house which is the largest, most beautiful house that Rachel didn't expect to see. A house that Nick and Astrid grew up in. A house that has lots of wings that you'll probably get lost once you enter the wrong one.

Finally, Nick introduces Rachel to all of his cousins. Nick's mom, Eleanor, is busy in the kitchen scrutinizing every detail of the food to serve to their guests. When the couple went down to the kitchen, Rachel thrillingly hugs Eleanor which made Eleanor uncomfortable around Rachel. That is why Rachel immediately concluded that Eleanor doesn't want her for his son.

In the middle of the garden, sits a fragrant Tan Hua flower which usually blooms fully once a year, a great opportunity for the guests to see this once in a year. While waiting for it to fully bloom, Nick introduced Rachel to his Ah-ma, surprisingly, she likes Rachel the moment they talked in Chinese. She said that Rachel should come back to the mansion when there are no more craining necks so that she can teach Rachel how to make their family's traditional dumpling recipe which was passed to generations.

The Bachelor and Bachelorette's  Party where Nick and Rachel's love was tested. The Bachelor's party is located literally in the middle of the ocean, filled the cargo-like ship with sexy girls and men that is enjoying the scenery. As they are talking about anything under the sun and with the influence of alcohol, some men questions Nick on Rachel's details. Though the men want to know more about Rachel, Nick went hot-headed as the men start to sexualize his girlfriend. He decides to leave the ship that day with Colin, the bachelor, to an island with a small wooden floating house and a raft.

On the other hand, Rachel met Nick's ex-girlfriend, Amanda, in Araminta's Bachelorette party at a private island. She did not know that Amanda wants to be friends with her so that she and her mean friends can pull off their plans and that Rachel would want to leave. Their plans succeeded, while crying Rachel went to her villa to get her things and leave, she bumped into Astrid. They two found that Rachel's bed was covered in tuna's blood with a tuna head at her headboard.

That incident led to them to the seashore talking about why Amanda is like that. Astrid also opened up to Rachel how she found out that her husband is not really busy going to business trips but rather he is busy having an affair with a woman she doesn't know. It seems like the two found comfort in each other.

Dumpling day comes and also another day to test their relationship. While making dumplings, Rachel found out that Ah-ma doesn't want Eleanor for Nick's father way back then and she doesn't have the heirloom engangement ring of the Youngs since Ah-ma didn't approve of her. Ah-ma arrived at the dining table exactly after Rachel knew the backstory of Eleanor and Nick's father. Ah-ma was pleased after seeing Rachel again. She adoringly expressed her interest in Rachel's face features which made Eleanor jealous of Rachel.

On her way to the toilet, Rachel's lost in the mansion and was shocked that Eleanor found her. Eleanor talked to Rachel and frankly told her that she will never be enough for her son.

(Rachel and Eleanor Scene)

The wedding of the year came, famous business elites and the royalties attended. Rachel wore a pretty blue elegant dress paid respects to Eleanor and Nick's aunties though Eleanor doesn't want her to sit with her.

Princess Inta, who demanded a whole row of the front seats to herself so she would not be bothered by anyone, approached by Rachel who doesn't have seats, she talked about the princess' book about economics and that they have the same stand. They immediately been comfortable with each other. Escorted by Astrid, Ah-ma came and everyone was shocked at her presence. They said that Ah-ma never came to such events.

Not long after Ah-ma arrived, the grand wedding started which left everyone in awe on how beautiful the oriental, Gothic-themed was.

After the ceremony, the program continued at the Gardens by the Bay, a reception for the wedding. It was filled with laughters, everyone is having a great time dancing and enjoying the beat. In contrast with this, stands Rachel and Nick called by Ah-ma and Eleanor for the truth behind Rachel's identity. They said that they cannot let Rachel join their family for the fact that she lied to them about his father after they hired a peivate investigator. Little did they know that Rachel only found out then that her mom's husband, which all throughout her life she believed wa sher father, isnt really her biological father. Rachel walked out for she is deeply hurt by their actions. Ah-ma later then gave Nick an ultimatum. Once he leave, he can't come back. Who will he choose? His family or Rachel?

After a few days of crying, Rachel's mom found her in Peik-Lin's house and not eating. Her mom admitted that she left her husband because she was impregnated by Rachel's father and that her husband was not kind after all. She flew all the way to America to start a new life with her baby, Rachel.

Before leaving Singapore, Rachel wanted to talk to two people; Nick and Eleanor. She ended her relationship with Nick and declined Nick's offer to marry her and start a new life in New York as he will cut his ties with his family.

Rachel meets Eleanor at a Mahjong Parlour where they had a mahjong game along with two deaf players. She told Eleanor everything that had happened before she met with her and that she knew that Nick loves his family so much that even though Nick decided to leave his family for her, she couldn't stand to see Nick away from them. He is the only son that would inherit their wealth. She decides to let him go.

Also broken-hearted with her cousin Nick, Astrid decides to leave his husband for she cannot be blinded by her husband's affair. She decides to take their son with her.

Rachel and her mom are boarding the aircraft when Nick chased her to fly to New York with her.   She don't want to listen to Nick at first but when she realized what Nick's doing, she decided to  clisten to him and is completely speechless when Nick get down on one knee. Her face brightened when she saw the small box with the emerald stone ring embedded in diamonds that Eleanor wore on their engagement with Nick's father is vividly shining right infront of her eyes. She said Yes!

Them three left the aircraft to celebrate their engagement with their friends at the top of Singapore's most popular hotel - Marina Bay Sands. Ended as Eleanor genuinely smiles at Rachel as Rachel shows her engagement ring.

This movie taught me that you can’t choose who you’ll love. If you're looking for someone with the same wealth level as yours or even the same race as yours, you may never find your true love. Given the circumstances of Rachel and Nick, they don’t want their wealth status to be a hindrance in their relationship.

Though family always comes first, if it's a matter of going through what your family wants for you or going through what you want for your future family, always choose the latter. I only get one chance to live and I don’t want any regrets, so for as long as possible, if my decisions don't violate a person's right, i’ll do everything and whatever it takes.

This part below, where Rachel met Eleanor at the Mahjong Place where they talked about why Eleanor didn’t want Rachel for Nick the second she arrived in Singapore. Eleanor said that there is a Hokkien phrase “Ka ki lang” which means “Our own kind of people.” This is why the Chinese people tend to want to marry the same ethnicity as them because they want to preserve their traditions and would want to keep it going for as long as possible, which Rachel is not. Not because she is not wealthy, but because she is a foreigner, an American, although the Chinese blood runs through her, she grew up in America and Eleanor doesn’t want that.

One of the Chinese’s cultures is that they are taught to build things that last and not to feed in what they want, but in what they need. I understand Eleanor in this part because as an Asian, we are taught by these things - to prioritize our needs and build connections that will benefit us in the future. But for me, we should give respect to other cultures and not close our circle entirely. We all have different perspectives regardless of our race, that is why we should not judge one’s personality based on their race.

Rachel said that Nick proposed to him the day before and she turned him down, though Nick stated that he will stay away from his family for good. She said that if Nick would choose Rachel, he would lose his family, and if Nick would choose his family, he might spend the rest of his life resenting Eleanor.

Eleanor shows her Mahjong tiles which she thought she won, but Rachel looks at her, sighs, and says,

“ I’m not leaving because I’m scared, or because I think I’m not enough, because maybe for the first time in my life, I know I am. I just love Nick so much. I don’t want him to lose his mom again, so I just wanted you to know that one day, when he marries another lucky girl, who is enough for you, and you’re playing with your grandkids, while the Tan Hua’s are blooming, and the birds are chirping, that is was because of me. A poor, low-class immigrant nobody.”

Then she showed her Mahjong tiles and she won to Eleanor. She left the table and fetched her mother with a smile at the other table to leave the place. What a queen! Powerful. That is the best scene ever. The feels, the script, the emotions, they are just so perfect.

Astrid, my favorite character, not just she is stunningly beautiful but among all the cousins, she has the purest heart. She doesn’t want the people around her to feel that they are left out when they are with her. She wanted everything to be perfect when it comes to her family. Though her shopping spree every time she’s going to Paris fashion week is a bit overwhelming to commoners, she deserves all of it.

Astrid and I have similarities in our personalities. I’m also calm when there are problems that are coming my way. I can remain composed and I buy my time until I can find solutions to it. I remember the time when the man I loved cheated on me just like when Michael (Astrid’s husband) cheated on Astrid.

I can relate to her when she said that she’s wrong when she’s turning down jobs because Michael might feel lesser than her. I used to lower myself when I’m with him because I worry that he might feel that I’m the superior one between the two of us. But when he cheated, I realized that it shouldn’t be like that. It will be his fault for being insecure in me. Just like what Astrid said,

“It’s not my job to make you feel like a man. I can’t make you something you’re not.”

[ericsonclan]

Bi Bros

Summary: Clementine and Aasim hang out at the mall and end up talking about their Disney crushes.

Word Count: 1550

Read on AO3:

Clementine munched on her slice of pepperoni pizza with a sort of absentminded gaze, her eyes focused on the arcade that stood by the food court of the Prescott mall. The sounds of the different arcade games and blinking lights made her continue watching. It would be fun to do a double date there sometime. She remembered that Mitch had flexed that he was the best at arcade fighting games; she’d like to prove him wrong. A competitive smile pulled on the corners of Clementine’s lips at the thought. She had to text Louis and share this idea.

“How’s your pizza?”

Aasim’s question snapped Clementine out of her thoughts and she looked over at him with a piece of pepperoni sticking out of her mouth. With a quick toss she threw it back in.

“Good, how's your Hawaiian pizza?” Clementine couldn’t fully hide her mild disagreement in that flavor choice.

“Sweet, hammy and delicious, thank you,” Aasim tossed the rest of the slice in his mouth then brushed his hands. After he had fully chewed and swallowed he spoke again. “Are you about ready to check out the bookstore?” “Yeah,” Clementine scarfed down the rest of the slice and started gathering up the trash. Aasim helped out, then the pair walked towards the nearest trash can, disposing of the wrappers and greasy napkins before placing the food trays on top of the trash can.

“Alright, onwards,” Clementine smiled and started to walk alongside Aasim who was rather giddy with excitement for a potential new book. “Any particular book you’re thinking of getting?”

“Hmm,” Aasim thought deeply on that question, his fingers scratching his goatee as he debated his answer. “I think a historical drama would be nice to add to the collection or another Sherlock Holmes book. Although I was planning on letting Prisha pick the next one,” Aasim continued to think, causing a happy smile to appear on Clementine’s lips. She always felt herself smile when a friend was talking about something they were passionate about. It was as if their excitement lit up her own. “I could also pick up Pride and Prejudice since Ruby wanted that to be our next bedtime book.”

“Bedtime book? I thought you two weren’t living together?” Clementine quirked an eyebrow at Aasim.

“We aren’t. We set up a voice call each evening and it's really nice, helps me sleep too,” Aasim scratched the back of his head with a shy smile. “Anyways, there are a lot of choices for what I can buy today,”

“All good ones for the sounds of it,” Clementine nodded along, letting the ice in her soda cup shake with the movement before she lifted it up and took a long sip. So long in fact that she had sucked all the soda completely out of the cup, leaving only the pile of ice.

“Yes, maybe I’ll spoil myself today and pick up a few,” Aasim smiled at the thought.

“Hell yeah! Treat yourself!” Clementine tossed the cup through the air and landed it in the trash can. A proud smile immediately radiated on her face as she walked forward, a bit more pep in her step.

“What about you?” Aasim glanced over at his friend who for some reason was surprised by the question.

“Shit, umm, I’m not sure. Sophie and Renata were gushing about this young adult adventure story where you get to pick choices that change the story as you go. They really want to see the ending I get and Louis was practically bouncing at the idea of that,” Clementine smiled fondly at the memory; her boyfriend was a massive dork and she loved him for it.

“Well, that does sound like fun,” Aasim nodded along before his eyes caught sight of the bookstore. “There it is!” Aasim’s face broke out into a smile and without thinking he grabbed Clementine’s hand, not being able to wait a second more. Clementine laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm as she tried to regain her footing.

“Aasim, hold up!”

Her words made Aasim realize what he was doing and he immediately let go. “Sorry about that,”

“It’s no big deal,” Clementine readjusted her baseball cap and denim jacket. “Alright, let's buy some books!” She pumped her fist in the air with a happy smile. “Yes!” Aasim mirrored her gesture then spun around and led the way. His excitement continued to grow as he looked at the shelves upon shelves of books, small, happy gasps leaving his lips when he saw the abundant choices he had the pleasure of perusing. His hands kept grasping at different books: hardcover and paperback, mystery novels and historical dramas, he wanted them all.

Clementine smiled at her friend, shaking her head good naturedly at the future outcome this would cause. Casually walking alongside him, Clementine peeked down the different aisles, taking out books that piqued her interest, but nothing stuck with her. Soon she found the adventure book that she was interested in and picked it up, tucking it under her arm. “Aasim, how long do you want to spend here?”

“Forever,” Aasim smiled behind his pile of books. “I’m joking. I only need about an hour more,”

“Okay,” Clementine nodded, then stretched her arms casually. She didn’t mind spending the afternoon in a bookstore. She enjoyed seeing how happy her friend was too as he kept picking up more and more books until they reached a section that drew Clementine’s attention.

“Holy shit,” Clementine stepped forward. Her sudden exclamation had Aasim looking up from his endless choices to see that Clementine was standing in front of the coloring book section.

“What's grabbed your attention?” Aasim toted his books over and peered over his friend’s shoulder to see A Princess and the Frog coloring book.

“Tiana is AJ’s favorite Disney princess,” Clementine explained as she picked up the coloring book. “He says she reminds him of me which is really sweet.” Her smile grew as pleasant memories bubbled forth.

“She is a pretty great princess but I don’t think she would be my favorite. Though I did have my fair share of favorite Disney princesses and princes,”

“Oh yeah?” Clementine wanted to hear all about this. “Gonna spill your Disney crushes? I’ll share mine if you share yours,”

Aasim thought about it for a moment then gave a smile. “Deal! Okay, I’ll start. So growing up I always loved The Little Mermaid for a lot of reasons but one of them was that I had a massive crush on Ariel,”

“Ooo, I see your thing for redheads started at an early age,” Clementine nudged his side with a teasing smile.

“I will have you know that I love Ariel for many reasons besides her looks, like how she was a scholar,”

“And wore a seashell bra, mmhmm,” Clementine continued her teasing. “I don’t blame you, good choice.”

“Thank you. I also had a crush on Eric - he was such a himbo: so hot, so stupid but with a big heart,” Aasim smiled then looked over at Clementine. “Alright, your turn. Tell your Disney secrets,”

“Okay, so I had a huge crush on Prince Phillip,” Clementine noticed the surprise on Aasim’s face. “What? He fought a dragon, he fucking threw his sword and pierced Maleficent’s heart! He was a total badass,”

“No arguments here. He was awesome, very handsome. Great choice. Okay, and for the princesses?”

“Well, I had a few, but Kida. That outfit, how badass and kind she was, that fight scene!” Clementine sighed. “Yep, she definitely helped me realize that I liked girls,”

“Ooo, I love Kida! She’s amazing. But y’know which Disney movie had a power couple who were both hot?”

“Yes!”

“It was Mulan ! Shang and Mulan were super hot!” Aasim and Clementine said at the same time. Their eyes grew large and they fist bumped.

“Right!” Clementine quieted down a bit when she saw one of the employees look her way. “They were both sooo hot,”

“Capable fighters, hearts of warriors, extremely hot,” Aasim nodded in agreement. “Plus Shang was totally bi,”

“Totally,” Clementine smiled up at her friend. The two continued to talk as they made their way to the cashier where Clementine bought the adventure novel and coloring book. Once her purchase was done Aasim stepped forward, quickly discarded the books he couldn’t afford, and slid forward a historical drama, Pride and Prejudice and a new journal.

“Oh, that's a nice journal,” Clementine admired the deep brown leather journal with a small, intricate design on its edges.

“Thanks, I’m excited to use it. Journaling is always so peaceful,”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll try it out,” Clementine saw the excitement in Aasim’s eyes at those words.

“Yes! I’m sure you’re going to love it,”

“Okay, then we can be journal bros and bi bros,” Clementine smiled up at Aasim.

He immediately returned it. “Sounds good to me.” Aasim strolled forward when suddenly he remembered something. “Oh yeah, I heard from Brody that there’s a good ice cream shop right by the food court. Wanna head there?”

Clementine’s eyes sparkled at those words. There was nothing better than grabbing some ice cream on a hot day. “Lead the way!” Aasim nodded then took the lead, excitedly starting up a new topic with Clementine as they headed toward sweet treats.

[moon-silvered]

Dancing in the Moonlight (All Chapters)

Pairing: Steven Grant x Telepath F!Reader

Wordcount: 21k

Tags/Warnings: Romantic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Telepathic Reader, Communication, Mature Content

Summary: A telepath senses an unworldly presence in loyal bookshop customer Steven Grant when he asks her out. Despite the presence, they proceed to get closer and closer together leading to the bedroom.   

Also Posted on: Ao3

You don’t think anything’s weird with him the first time you meet Steven Grant. He’s another customer with a special interest in Egypt given the books he buys. Not unusual, especially not when you find out he works at the British Museum near the Egyptian exhibition. Makes sense he’d buy the books he does from a little bookseller and rare book procurer. The amount of money he dishes out for them is a little worrying, and you briefly wonder how he can afford it but it’s not your business. You really do try to ignore the mental nattering that goes on in most people’s heads.  You had after all made an oath to not go snooping into stranger’s minds with your ability. 

The second time, that’s when you think there’s something off.  It was harder not to go eavesdropping with Steven Grant. It was like he was projecting his very thoughts. Or maybe, they were louder, it was difficult to really explain.  

But it’s the third time, when you focus on his thoughts and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, you know for sure there’s something off with him.  There’s something– someone else there. An undercurrent voice beneath his thoughts humming along. Not sinister, not benevolent, but wholly extraterrestrial and unhuman. It gave you a migraine to focus on it and you had to take your break early. 

You all but collapse onto the fountain’s ledge, hand to your temple as you try to rub the migraine away.  You’re shaking from the pain made worse by the cacophony of thoughts swirling in the square but it was better than the intensity of what-whomever you had bumped into in Steven Grant’s mind. 

You’re staring at the ground when the aural distortions pulse and intensify as a pair of shoes stop right in front of you.  You look up and he’s there.

“You alright? You look a bit...”

You’re trying very hard not to look, not to listen to what’s going on behind those eyes, behind that brow but it was like telling someone to stop feeling the temperature. Still, you grit your teeth and smile, imagining a coat on your mind to keep out the cold wind. 

“Yeah, ju-just a migraine.” You helplessly stutter and then close your eyes, hoping that would help. It won’t of course. You knew it wouldn’t because it never has. 

“Ah, I’m sorry. If you want, I c-can – I mean if you think you need it. I’ve got–” He fumbles as he pulls a Tesco bag from his other bag.  You watch as he pulls out at first caffeine tablets – the kind people take to stay awake. You used to take them in your university days because they were legal, as opposed to the pharmaceuticals your American mates did to achieve the same. Then Steven pulled out a nuromol bottle. 

“That’s convenient.” 

“Was just at Tescos, yeah.” He explains and holds out the bottle. 

You stare at it and decide it couldn’t hurt. Plus it might make him walk away faster and take whatever presence was in his head far from you. 

You struggle to open the bottle, so he does and hands you a single tablet but you hold out your palm for two. 

“Says to take one,” he explains in a sing song way, like he’s going to tattle, but he’s already tabbing one more out. You catch wind of a stray thought of his. One never works for me either, wish they’d give us the stronger stuff without a script. You get a mental image of him downing twice the recommended caffeine tablets to stave off his sleep. 

You don’t say anything about it, instead you down the tablets and chase em with water. “Cheers, mate.” You fully expected him to walk away after that, but he lingers. 

His fingers grip tight and loosen around his recent book purchases and his mouth moves silently as though he’s working himself up to say something. “I noticed you were reading– well I happened to glance at the book you put down when I came in, yeah? and see I work at the Museum near the Egypt exhibit-“

“I know.” You interrupt him.. 

“You do?”

“You told me.” You state but then quickly doubt yourself. Had he told you? Or was that a fact you picked out from thoughts he had in his head? You think it’s the latter now, especially as his face contorts into confusion. “I-mean I must have heard you mention it to my boss or something.” You wave your hand, trying to be dismissive.  It mollifies him far too much. Why?

You regret it instantly, but you loosen the mental coat a bit to hear.  Thought I lost time again. Your head swirls around that presence again and you wince away. 

“So. I was wondering, if you’re curious about Egyptian gods, I could- we could- if you’re not busy- meet for dinner - or lunch. Yeah, lunch?” He manages out, second guessing every other sentence. 

You stare at him, really stare and finally it clicks. You hadn’t even realized it, too preoccupied with the pain of hearing his thoughts and feeling the presence.  “Are you chatting me up?” It’s a rhetorical question because as soon as you say it, you get confirmation from his thoughts in the form of:  I should have practiced more. She’s probably already seeing someone. Along with those thoughts is a teeth chattering sinister breeze of that being – like it’s trying to push you away.

You would have gone fleeing, if not for the indignant rebellion that roared at whomever was in his mind that wanted you gone. And, though you’ll never admit this to anyone, the way Steven looked deflated like a kicked puppy.

“Sure.” 

The puppy analogy was too spot on, because his eyes brighten and widen in surprise. Even his smile is infectious and makes your lips lift to mirror his. And oddly enough some of the pain ebbs away, though it could be the nuromol. You’d swear it’s the latter to anyone who asks.

You set a time and place at a little restaurant, not too fancy but definitely not a place to show up in ratty jeans.  You do a bit of gloss and dab some eyeliner on for a smokey-eyed look but you wipe it away when you feel ridiculous with it on and say “Sod it” and go off. 

It’d been years since your last date, you were out of practice. Not that you wanted to be well versed in dating. It was tiresome when you could hear their disingenuous thoughts as they tried to flatter you. Not to mention it was difficult to talk about yourself without hearing every judgmental thought cross their mind for everything you said, wore, and did. At first it made you self conscious, like you had to please them on every thought, until you got fed up, angry, and at times indignant. 

For a time you used your ability to your advantage to get right into the sheets to scratch an itch, but that made you feel worse than when you took their passing thoughts to heart. So you didn’t do that again, at least not intentionally. 

Steven meets you in the courtyard outside the bookshop with a bouquet of flowers. He’s got an awkward nervous smile that suits him. And you can admit it’s kind of endearing, especially paired with the way those dark eyes are glued to you as you approach. His gaze doesn’t do a body check, and instead they remain respectfully – gentlemanly – on your face.  You smile brighter from that alone but all out swooned when the traces of his thoughts reach  you. She’s beautiful. How did I ever manage to ask her with that smile? Always loved her smile, greeting me every time. I’m so lucky. Don’t muck it up. Accompanied by a nervous gulp.

You wish you could assuage his nerves, but that would mean revealing your ability. You hadn’t had the best luck in that. People didn’t exactly find it comforting when they knew you knew every thought that passed their mind. 

You step up to him, mentally prepared for the pain of the foreign presence to try to push you away but surprisingly there was none. The presence was present; now that you knew to look for it. You weren’t sure how you never noticed it before whenever Steven came by. It was so obvious. Perhaps you never cared to look closer until he lingered longer than was prudent at your register.  

You grab the bouquet and glance over the carefully picked flowers. You notice your favorite as a center piece. You look up to his expectant look. “These are lovely. How did you know they’re my favorite?”

“I smelled your perfume.” A second too late he realized how bad that sounded and winced. “That is-I mean you always have them in the bookshop, by your counter. You’re always smiling when you come in with a fresh bouquet. Not that I watched- I mean I did but only- ah.”

Ever the skeptic, you take a look in his head – fighting the presence. Memories flit by of him walking into the bookstore, watching you as you run the till, aggravated over annoying customers only to smell the flowers you kept nearby to relax.  Then memories of Steven paging through flower books, to find the name of them, reading a book on flower language, then looking up and calling local flower shops. 

The entire time you looked, the presence makes a go at you. They’re a torrential gust of wind pushing you away and you almost stagger but hold on until it finally wrenches you away. 

You take a step back, breathless. 

“Sorry, I know, it’s weird. I swear I wasn’t stalking- though now that I say it makes it sound like I did. But I promise you, I only happened to notice and you really seemed to like them and I wanted to get you something you’d like.” He rambled. 

“Steven.” Your voice is soft and you step back toward him and place a hand on his arm over the sleeves of his jacket, in active rebellion against the presence. It roared, attempting to push you away again. And while it could from Steven’s mind, it had no bearing on your physical body. Except of course for the pain, but you could live through it tonight. Anything to spite the being.  “I love them.” You reassure Steven. If he really was a puppy his tail would be wagging quickly with how enthused and happy he looked.

You walk to the restaurant together under the afternoon sun.  Steven talks about the meaning of the flowers, which you already know from his mind but you let him go on as he explains the history and varying meanings and uses of the flowers he picked. Not in a showy mansplaining I-know-more-than-you way, but in a I’m-genuinely-excited-to-share-this-knowledge way. It was endearing. 

As he talks about the things he found interesting in reading and researching it – his mind is resolute, confident. Yet shatters when you get to the restaurant, and Steven ceases talking. 

“Oh my god. I’m an absolute git, I’ve been talking your ear off, not letting you get a word in.” He looks at you in horror. 

“I like listening to you talk.” You pat his arm with a genuine smile. He returns it and the presence in his mind seems to withdraw.  That was odd. 

The hostess takes you to a table for two. Steven is quiet as he pulls out the chair for you. It makes you chuckle and you sit opposite him. 

You order your drinks and platters. Steven orders from the vegan options, which you take note until you catch onto one of the ingredients.

“Oh that has peanuts.” You mutter, with a forced frown trying to hide a mischievous grin. 

Steven looks up and blanches. “I didn’t think to ask. Are you allergic? I can order something else.” He is about to call the waitress back but now you’re smiling. 

“Only mildly allergic. You can order it. Just means I definitely can’t kiss you later if I want to.” You’re joking of course. You definitely could kiss him later but you’d have to wash your mouth out. It was a joke that had the intended effect. 

Steven’s mouth opens and closes in shock as his cheeks darken, throat bobbing nervously. “So-sorry wha- no I can-“ his voices cracks. “I can change the order.” He rushes out and then raises his hand to call the waitress back. You laugh and grab it, intending on bringing it down to the table – completely forgetting a cardinal rule to your abilities. 

Never make skin to skin contact unless you’re ready. And you needed to be, especially with all the weirdness already with Steven. 

The presence is sentient, bearing down from behind Steven. It’s tall, with a floating bird skull as a head and body dressed in strips of floating cloth bandages with gold moon adornments while leaning against a staff. And the pressure, that same gust of wind in your mind is howling, rushing at you like a tornado and you let go of Steven’s hand the moment that thing looks at you with a skull tilt. 

Steven is looking behind him confused as you stare at the spot it had inhabited. “You alright?” 

Does he not know it’s there? 

You look at him and back to the spot, your breath heaving and you nod. “Yeah…um.” You grasp for an explanation. “Must’ve seen a spider.” It feels like a lame excuse, especially because you love spiders. But you do not want to have this conversation.  Not on the first date. 

Were you seriously going on with this date after seeing that? 

With the way Steven looks at you, worried and hopeful, and the nervous insecure chatter bleeding from inside his head? 

Yes you were.

The date gets better from there. He asks what interested you about Egyptian gods, and he’s flummoxed to learn it was him. There’s a moment where his mind spins about whether you did that intentionally to catch his interest. Sadly you reveal it was something you did to repeat customers, that if they were that invested in the topic – then it would make for good reading during down time. Which led to him asking what other books you read and which customers inspired it. Leading to a long list of stories. 

“I read about em, so I have something to say when they come in.” You explain with a shrug. “Gets boring being a cashier, even in a bookshop.”

“I know what you mean.” Steven sighs. 

You laugh. “You work in the museum as a tour guide! That doesn’t sound boring to me.”

Steven looks embarrassed now. “I…well, I auditioned for the tour guide.” She doesn’t know I work in the gift shop. His voice and mind has a sort of sound like wounded pride. 

“Oh. Sorry I just…I thought.” You’re left without words. You hadn’t expected that he could keep that sort of information from you, or from his thoughts.  Clearly he found it too embarrassing to even think about except when confronted with it. “You know what, your boss is a sodding fool for not taking you on then.” 

Steven gives you a half smile. 

You almost reach for his hand, but pause. “Just means we have a lot more in common. Both of us under appreciated and stuck on the till when we got so much more to offer.”

Steven huffs a laugh but nods. “More time to read, I suppose.”

“Or go on more dates.” You counter. Why did you say that?! You can’t take it back now. You couldn’t but want to see Steven in brighter spirits. And besides, he’s not bad. Friendly, knowledgeable, easy to fluster, and he was handsome too, in an insecure kind of way. It’s the way he holds himself, with hunched shoulders so he takes up as little room as possible with his gaze down and clothes that were high quality but clearly he felt uncomfortable in them. 

“S-sorry…dates? Plural?” Steven’s eyes are wide with that shimmer of hope. 

“Unless you don’t want to?”

Steven trips over his own tongue “I do! I mean I would love to go on anoth- more…dates.” He over emphasizes the s. You couldn’t help but laugh. It’s a boisterous sound, that has him grinning and then also laughing. And it’s like something is knocked loose in his shoulders. They aren’t so tense, they’re relaxed.  I didn’t mess it up, like usual. I’m not a failure. 

Your heart breaks a little for this beautiful man, to feel the relief in his thoughts. You decide far too quickly, you don’t ever want to make him tense up again. 

After Steven regaled you about Egyptian tales that you had yet to read about, and you commiserate over your shared experience working in customer support, he walks you back to the bookshop. There’s a moment, a hopeful one from him. You know it’s about a kiss. He did end up changing his order for something without peanuts. 

You hadn’t been kidding about giving him a kiss if it went well but you were faltering now. Kissing him would mean skin to skin contact.  And you hadn’t touched him for the rest of the night on purpose. And the presence was still there, but it wasn’t pushing or throwing waves of mental gusts to get you to leave. But the very feel of it so close was difficult to bear. 

If you kissed Steven, would you see it? You weren’t even sure what it was. 

Still, you step closer. He doesn’t have to look too far down to meet your gaze. 

“Thank you for lunch.” You murmur and he touches your hand.  It’s intimate, more so than a kiss with the way his fingers lace with yours. The warmth of his fingers

She doesn’t have to kiss me if she doesn’t want to.  You hear, clear as day from his mind before he says it softly. She was only having a laug-

You interrupt that thought by pressing your lips to his. His body is frigid in shock and then melts. It’s not a searing kiss, not the stuff of movies, and certainly not raunchy- they’re in a public square for goodness sake! Your noses bump against each other and he has to step closer to you aren’t craning your neck, but he’s smiling even with a close lipped kiss. It’s chaste, and sweet and he pulls away with an unintended promise and taste of more when he licks his lips and yours before. 

You’re the one who is flustered this time. 

“I-“ you’re swallowing and touching your lips with your fingertips, like you cannot believe you did that. “I had a lovely time, Steven.”

And then, he says your name. Only it’s different from all the other times he has this entire lunch date. It’s softer, vulnerable, and with yearning. You want nothing more than to hug him, but you don’t. 

Later when you’re home, you feel completely exhausted. A migraine had worked it’s way up to your temple from the strain of the presence around a Steven. Because even in the kiss, it had tried to push you away, not that you paid it any mind. But now that you’re home you don’t quite care as you’re floating from the euphoria. You hadn’t expected to enjoy the date as well you did.

You pick up your phone and start to text but stop several times before committing to a bit:

You: I would like to submit a review on my experience tonight. 

You watch the icon indicating he is texting start and stop repeatedly before stopping for a long time until an hour later.

Steven: Oh?

You roll your eyes, having a feeling he agonized over what to write back the entire time only to send a one syllabic response. 

You: yeah. a little thing I wrote up just now. 

Steven: Was there something wrong at the restaurant? Was it the spider?

You: nothing wrong with the restaurant. Want to read?

There’s a long pause in his reply, before a simply “Sure” came through.  With a grin, you hit enter. 

You: Went on a date with one Steven Grant, Pros: exceptional conversationalist, puppy dog eyes that make you melt, warm hands. Cons: not very food allergy conscious, kissing skill needs work.  7 out of 10. Would date again.  Does management have any thoughts? 

There’s a flurry of the icon indicating he’s typing popping up and disappearing repeatedly. Then he’s typing for a long time. Too long. You wonder if he’s writing a book or just editing his message over and over again. He seemed the type. 

Steven: Thank you for your input.  I will take it into consideration and review so I can better service you

Steven: ah, wait I hit send too fast!

You: service me huh? That’s some can do attitude. 

Steven: that’s not what I meant!!!

You: are you sure? Because I’m down. 

Steven: !!! You! Let me finish!

You laugh, imagining how warm his cheeks might be as you wait. 

Steven: I will take your input into consideration and review so I can PROVIDE better service to you. At your earliest convenience when might we offer you a more satisfying experience? 

You: I think a more satisfying experience isn’t necessary but a change in venue and activity might improve the rating. It is calculated in an aggregate, not average, manner. So how about a movie? Say this Thursday evening? 

There’s a long, long time before Steven answers but when he does, it’s adorable and you press your face into your pillow with a girlish giggle. 

Steven: If I sneak in the snacks, will I lose or gain points on my review?

You: gain, obviously. Sleight of hand means you’re likely good with your hands in other aspects. Or so I hear. 

Steven: agshekt

Steven: sorry! I dropped my phone. 

Steven: I will bring the snacks then. Meet at the bookshop after your shift?

You: keeping track of when my shifts are? Kind of suspicious there, Grant. Maybe you are a stalker after all. 

There’s no answer for a long time. Not even the typing icon lights up. Maybe you went too far there and he was panicking. So you decide to have mercy on him. 

Frowning, you type a few words, stop then decide to call him instead. He doesn’t pick up the first or second ring but he does on the third. 

“Hello?” There’s a tentativeness in Steven’s voice and you can hear it. 

“Hey. So we’re still on for the movies right?” You ignore your last message sent. You don’t even want to think of it. 

“We are?” Steven asks and then sighs. “I thought maybe I went too far…memorizing your shifts.”

“My shifts are incredibly predictable, being one of two employees in the shop.”

“Yeah.” Steven mutters. You hear him shuffling papers. 

“It’s kind of endearing you paid so close attention, though.”

“Is it?”

“Like the flowers. Which by the way are now in a vase right on my bedside table.”

“Bedside table? Why not the den? Or kitchen?” Steven asks. 

“Because it’ll be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning.” You say softly.

There’s a sharp intake of breath and release before he hums around a smile. “Now I’m jealous of the flowers.”

“For what?” You prod gently, until you track back to what you said right before. Now you’re the one with warm cheeks. “You-” you stutter and choke on your words. 

Steven’s muffled laugh comes through, like his hand is over his mouth.  “I cannot believe I said that.”

“Nor can I!” You grab a pillow to shove your face into, as if it could hide the blooming heat racing up your neck to your cheeks and ears. 

There’s a beat of silence before, “I-I think I need to hang up before I self combust.” 

“Me too.”

Neither of you hang up again. 

You grumble and catch the tail end of his laugh before you finally hang up first.

On Thursday, Steven arrived before the end of your shift. His mental mumbling rose above the cacophony of customers and passersby outside. You paused what you were doing to look toward the door as he entered, meeting his nervous gaze that quickly became surprised as he registered you were staring right at him. He gave a small wave.

“Hello.” Steven’s body was tight and rigid, shoulders hunched forward with nerves again. It bled into his thoughts. Second date. Second date! Can’t believe I made it this far. Remember to let her talk this time. Ask about her.

You smile at him. That seems to settle some of his nerves as you say, “I’m just finishing up. Give me a bit, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah yeah. I’ll just uh-I’ll…” he looked around the bookshop. “I’ll look through some books.” He stated it as though it was something new.

“What else are ya gonna do in a bookshop you plonker.” Your boss grumbled from the stacks. He’s a crotchety old man who used to do much traveling for book procurement, back before the digital age really took off and has caused the slow death of the print medium. “Mr. Grant, I don’t recall having a book on hold for you.” He pulls out his clipboard and rifles through several pages.

“Well no. Ya see I’m not here for a book.” Steven explains.

“The hell you come to a bookshop for then?” Your boss’s voice raises up, unknowingly yelling. His hearing was going. “Come to flirt with my cashier then? I’ll not have you harassing my staff.”

“I- what? No I’d never do- I wouldn’t.  I mean I haven’t.” Steven flounders as he was thrown off. He looks at you, mouthing have I?

You cannot help but snicker and shake your head. But choose very much not to help and instead watch.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you making moon eyes at her for months.” Your boss carries on over Steven.

Well that’s something you didn’t know and hadn’t realized.

Steven’s mouth flaps open and closed, embarrassed at being called out.

“Not that she couldn’t do worse than you.” Your boss stares Steven down.

“I mean. We are going on a date.” Steven blurts out.

“What?!” Your boss exclaims and then quickly looks at you over the top of his glasses. “That true?”

“Yes, actually.” You admit, barely keeping a straight face. Your boss winks at you.

“Well then, lucky you Mr. Grant. However, just because you’re one of my best customers, don’t mean I’m letting her go early.” Your boss’s tone turns severe. At least it would be perceived that way to anyone who didn’t really know him. You knew better.

“Oh no! No-no no I wasn’t going to ask. I wouldn’t presume-“ Steven tried to explain.

“You girl!” Your boss points at you and uses his thumb to gesture to a stack of books. “Put those books away..”

“But sir, it’s not even closing-“

“Don’t be making excuses. You work until your scheduled time and that’s it. No ifs ands or buts. Now get to it.” Your boss barks, his arms crossed.

“Yes sir.” You grab the stack and head to the back of the bookshop.

Steven follows after you, even more hunched forward and with a grimace. “I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have come early. I-I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”

You say nothing as you continue walking past bookshelves.

“I had no idea he could yell like that. He was always nice with me, but then again I’m a customer.  Usually. He doesn’t talk like that to you does he?” Steven asks and there’s a moment in his thoughts where he is indignantly angry.  I’ll have to have words with him. That’s no way to treat your staff. Oh who am I kidding, I can’t even stand up to Donna proper.

Setting the stack of books in the back wall cabinet and locking it you turn around to look at Steven. His thoughts swirling from apologetic to trying to psyche himself up to defend you. It’s making your cheeks hurt from holding in your smile.

“I hope you don’t have too stay long. I mean the movie’s not for at least half an hour. Again, I’m really sorry-“ Steven attempts to apologize again but you don’t let him finish. You grab his collar and drag him down to meet you. He offers no resistance and stumbles into you. Your back presses against the cabinet and you kiss him.

He freezes above you, his thoughts empty as you tease his lips with a lick. With that he had his arse kicked into gear and he responds to you. He sucks on your upper lip slowly. Which is fine for you because you’ve had your eye on his bottom lip, with the way he bites on it while nervous or in thought. Your noses still bump and your teeth clatter when Steven gets a little too enthusiastic. It's almost awkward like he’s never done it before.  You check his mind and your chest swells to know he really hasn’t done this before short of the kiss from your first date.

What do I do with my hands?! Where do I touch. Oh god…she’s so good at this.

“Oh Steven.” You moan and grab his hands, placing them at your waist.

That gets a very enthusiastic reaction from him and he pushes closer, grasping your waist tight against him. Then he bites your lip. Not hard but enough to rile you up - too much. You push him away.

“Oh god, I’m sorry that was too much. I shouldn’t have bit you.” He spills out instantly, eyes wide. You messed it up!

“If I didn’t push you away. We were going to end up doing a lot more than snogging in the back of a bookshop.” You hurry out, while fanning your cheeks.

Steven pauses to register that and a slow smile spreads across his face. Biting. Good to know. I’ll sear that to my memory forever now.  

“Besides. I’m done. We can go now.” You explain and start heading for the front.

Steven blinks and his brows furrow deeply. “What? But I thought-“

“My boss was having a go at you.” You explain. “We don’t put the on-holds in the back until we’re done with everything else first.”

Steven looks at the cabinet you locked and then back to you. You can hear the gears clicking, the disbelief, and then he laughs. Short at first and then his body shakes with it and he covers his face. “Oh thank goodness.”

“Let’s go.” You grasp his hand and head for the front where your boss has taken your spot behind the till. He was looking up toward the curved mirrors in the corner on the ceiling. At your approach, your boss clears his throat and makes a mess of the papers on the wooden counter. “Oy! you were watching!” You accuse him with a mock gasp.

“Someone had to keep an eye out.” Your boss harrumphs and wags his finger at you. “I have half a mind to close up and act as chaperone with how you two got on like teenagers.”

“Oh stop being a codger.” You huff and grab your purse from behind the till.

Steven looks between the two of you, amused and jealous of the comradery you have with your boss.

“Hush. I’ve earned it at my old age.” He grumbles and then turns a critical eye on Steven. “What have you got planned then?”

You grin and nudge Steven.

“Oh-oh yeah- uh we’re going to see a film.”

Your boss frowns. “Bit of a shite plan for a first date. No talking and all.”

“Second.” You correct him.

“Second?!” Your boss’s wispy brows raise briefly before he opens a drawer behind the till. “Well then, you might need these.”

You’re inwardly groaning as he sets a box down on the counter.

Steven stares at it in alarm. “That’s-ah. Yeap those are rubbers, innit?”

“Bit slow isn't he?” Your boss teases. “You better take it Mr. Grant, I know how quickly you young folk go about with your courting. And I’d rather have you not knock one up in her before you’re settled.”

“Y-Yeah, Right. Yeah.” Steven nodded while still staring at the box of rubbers. Do I pocket some? How many do I take? If I take one…isn’t that sad? But if I take too many? Would that be improper? He swallowed loudly.

“Oh for heavens sake.” You swear and reach to grab a handful and stuff them in your purse. “Happy?” You playfully glare at your boss.

“Very." He winks. "Better if the woman has them anyway. Could never concentrate on the damn instructions right. What with all the blood rushing to-”

“And we’re leaving!!” You talk over him and drag Steven out.

Steven clears his throat and follows you. Your hands are grasped tightly for a block or two until you let go.

“Why does a bookshop need a drawer full of rubbers at the counter?” Steven asks with genuine curiosity. His mind trying to work out why. “Far as I know you don’t sell…well skin mags. Unless you do and I’ve completely missed a section of bookshelves on purpose.”

“We don’t sell mags of any kind.” You snort and smile. “But you have no idea how many widows who sell their late husband’s collection are desperate for any kind of attention.” You explain. “Not to mention some of the subject matters of these books can be...inspiring for those widows.”

“Wait so you mean…your boss…with the customers?” Steven’s eyes widen, flabbergasted.

“Not. Not with the customers.” You clarify. “With his sources. He was quite popular back in the 50s, or so he says.” You explain with a shrug. “We actually have a back room in the shop, for his private negotiations.”

“No…” Steven whispers. “You’re having a laugh. There’s no way…” Steven looks behind him back toward the bookshop. “Wait is that what that door was by the cabinet?!”

You cannot hold your laughter in at Steven’s amazement and morbid curiosity swirling around in his head.

“I will never be able to look at him the same way.” Steven says with both horror and awe. You cackle and field a few questions about the sorts of books you’ve seen while waiting for the tube.

You lapse into a comfortable silence, for you. But for Steven, inspired by earlier conversations and actions, his mind replays the kiss over and over.  He mentally sighs, longing over doing it again and maybe even touching more of you. Your cheeks blazed hot having that constant reminder. Especially with what a simple kiss stirred in him.

It’s when you get on the tube, and stand by the doors, pressed close to Steven that you recognize there’s something missing.

The presence. It’s not there.

“Something wrong?” Steven asks you. He’s closer than normal so his breath tickles the tips of your ear and you huff and grab his hand, lacing your fingers tightly.  

“No, just coming down from…our earlier excitement.” You explain.

Steven laughs softly under his breath and again the heat of it tickles your skin. This time the back of your ear as you sway with the movement of the bus. You’re almost distracted from why you grabbed his hand but you close your eyes and lean against him.

There’s nothing. No unhuman and wholly extraterrestrial presence. From where you could see, no weird visual manifestation of towering bird skulled figures.

It’s just Steven being a little louder in his thoughts than others.

Being this close to him and touching his skin, drowned out everyone else’s thoughts on the bus. It’s really the only reason why you were okay going on the bus. It was like wearing noise canceling headphones. You only heard his thoughts.

You sighed. You couldn’t remember the last time it was this quiet.

Has she fallen asleep standing up? She looks so serene, so relaxed. Must be from getting off work. I’ll wake her when we get to our stop.

Oh how you wanted to tell him it was because of him you felt this relaxed. Maybe someday.

The ride is short and you find you don’t want to step out of Steven’s proximity yet, but circumstances call for it. So you step off the bus, lower back tight as the thoughts of the crowd assault you.

It is barely a few seconds when the rush dies as Steven steps up to you, hand on your waist where unbeknownst to you, your shirt had ridden up and the side of his thumb brushed against the lace work of your pants and onto skin. It’s enough to make you shiver.

“Do you need to sit down?” Steven asks softly.

“Huh?” You are genuinely confused until you catch up.

“You look knackered, is all. Show’s not for another ten and we’re early, you could rest for a bit if you need.” He explains and then points toward a bench, leading you there by pushing on your lower back.

You shiver when his thumb brushes over your skin again. Your senses sharply attuned to what he was doing in the absence of other thoughts to hear.

You sit down while grabbing his hand and there’s a bubble and flutter of happy thoughts from him, about you actively seeking his touch. It’s infectious and you’re about to act on it when a voice interrupts the reverie.

“Oi-oi! Scotty!”

Steven’s eye twitches as a man walks up. The tenseness in his shoulders is back as he gives a half disappointed smile toward the man. “JB, it’s Steven. Remember. With a v.”

You don’t have to go looking for info. With your hands still clasped in his you get everything you need to know on the man. JB is a coworker at the museum where he is security. He frequently (as in always) gets Steven’s name wrong and spends most of his day watching cute otter videos and chatting up random twits that don’t know shite about Egypt.

Steven has mixed feelings on the man. On one hand he’s annoying, especially with how he still hasn’t got his name right. The other, Steven counts him as one of his friends even if it isn’t mutual.

The fact that it’s not mutual makes you frown.

“Look at you, bruv. Where’d you find such a fit bird?” JB asks with a too wide smile. His gaze is the exact wrong kind of gaze you want looking at you. You frankly don’t want to let go of Steven’s hand to confirm any of the thoughts you’re sure he’s thinking.

Steven sends you an apologetic look as he introduces you and tells you JB is his coworker at the museum. “We met at a bookshop.” Steven answers. You silently thank him for not saying which bookshop or where.

“Course you’d be into the swots.” JB jokes and slaps Steven’s shoulder. “Never could pull one myself.”

“That’s not surprising.” You mutter lowly. Steven makes a choked noise and covers it by clearing his throat.

By JB’s expression indicates he had heard you and was squinting one eye at you. “Whatsat supposed to mean?”

Bracing yourself, you pull your hand out of Steven’s to rummage in your purse. The silence in your head no more. Instead it filled with everyone else’s thoughts as they stepped in and out of your psychic space. It was like your personal space, but for your telepathy.  

You focused on JB. “You don’t pull a swot. On the contrary it’s the other way around. You just didn’t notice.” You smiled sweetly.

Twat. JB thought with a glare.

How charming.

“Well how do you know if a swot is pulling?” Steven asked, trying to neutralize the silent animosity between you and JB. He was his coworker. You didn’t have to work with him.

“The easy way? They did something that specifically catered to your specific interests.” You say with a shrug. It took a beat for Steven to smile, an ‘aha! I got you’ look to his eyes.  I knew it! You’re about to correct yourself before he gets too far with that thought when JB snaps his fingers.

“Hang on! Scotty, d’ya suppose Dylan was chatting me up when she gave me that otter plush?” He looked at Steven.

A swirl of thoughts surrounded Steven over Dylan. A new hire as a tour guide as of a year ago, that Steven initially had been jealous of over her being hired for position over him. It developed into respect with her knowledge and then an on again off again crush.

“I dunno, maybe? Could be.” Steven shrugged.

JB looked off toward the distance with excitement. “Piss…shite!” He bounced in place on the soles of his feet, eager to go when he remembered his manners. “Right well, I got a call to make. You two have a-“ he made a gesture between them. “-whatever this is. Scotty, give me the deets in the morning, yeah?” JB gave Steven a chav like punch to the arm and then took off.

“Ow…” Steven mouthed and rubbed his arm.

“Nice friend of yours.”

“You think?” Steven asks. Really?

“He’s an absolute wanker. Can’t even get your name right.” You huff.

“Yeah, I keep correcting him and my boss, Donna, but it’s like it dun register ya know?” Steven explained with a shake of his head. “Well at least Donna gets it somewhat right. Calls me Stevie, but JB. No improvement. None.”

“Prolly a power move. Whitehall did a bit on that once.” You joke with a nudge.

“Come off it. No.” Steven squinted and then laughed. “What an arse.”

Giggling you stand up. “Movie is gonna start soon. We gotta find decent seats.”

“Yeah alright.”

You enter the theater. It’s not a proper one but a university one, showing an independent university film. There hadn’t been anything at the cinema to see, so over text you and Steven chose a film at the local University. The tickets were cheap but the snack prices were heavily inflated, as was the usual.

You heard Steven’s guilty thoughts about sneaking snacks in. You watch in real time as he hesitates and then buys a small popcorn. Matching him, you buy a medium drink and grab two straws.

The usher gives you the side eye, thinking you’re being tight. But you don’t care. Some people were on a budget.

“Good thinking.” You mutter to Steven as you walk to the theater.

“Sorry what? What did I do?” Steven asks.

“Buying something small so we’re less suspicious.” You whisper conspiratorially. “You did sneak some in, yeah?”

Steven shushed you as he looked around them, opened the door to their cinema. “Yeah, just a bit. Not a lot of options though. But I did make sure there weren’t any peanuts.”

“Expecting another kiss?” You tease into his ear before running up the steps.

“Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t say no to another.” Steven whispered loudly after you. You giggle at the memories flirting through his head of the kiss on the first date and the kiss just a half hour ago.  “You want to sit all the way up there?”

“Yeah, course!” You wait for him to catch up and turn to him, leaning toward his ear to whisper. “It’s more private.”

“Yeh right back row it is.” Steven clears his throat nodding and takes the stairs the rest of the way two steps at a time. You laugh to yourself. He looks back at you, eyes twinkling when the theater goes dark and he hunches forward. “Sorry.” He says with a wave to everyone he has to slide past in the back row to the pair of seats he mentally headed for.

You follow after and sit beside him, ignoring the rude grumbling thoughts of those you passed, focusing entirely on Steven.  The university’s theater department was well funded so the seats were the meagerly fancy sort where you could raise the armrest between seats. Which is exactly what you did without waiting and sat right beside Steven. He looked down at you amazed and amused.

“Look at you. Eager for that privacy, eh?”

“More like I want to know what candy you’ve got stuffed in your pants.” You breathe huskily to him.

Steven’s mouth dropped open in shock. His mind whirling in mild aroused panic. “I-i’m- that is. I don’t-” he choked.

“Snacks…Steven. Stop acting like I’m about to stuff my face in your crotch.” You poke his shoulder.  

“Right… yeah. Snacks.” He laughed a sort of nervous sound and pulled at his collar. The top button coming loose as he then reached into his inner jacket pocket to pull out two small bags and a box.

“Are those…” you squint at the bright green packaging. “Caterpillar sours?”

“Yeah, you want some?”

“Oh I could kiss you.” You salivate at the thought of sour candy.

“Promise?” Steven asks, his eyes widened in surprise that he actually said that out loud.

“Cheeky.” You whisper but lean forward. Steven takes a sharp intake of breath and closes his eyes, tilting his head. Only for you to divert and kiss his cheek softly. “Greedy bugger.” You giggle and snatch the sour candies from him as his lips pressed tight, trying to control his smile and mock offense.

“Oh you’ll pay for that one later.” Steven mutters in a play at being serious.

“What ya gonna do?” You stick out your tongue as you grab a caterpillar from the package.

“I’ll bite that tongue of yours.” Steven growls.  The sound of it and the confidence with which he said that surprises both of you.

The air is tense between you two and then you smirk. “I’d like to see you try.” You whisper and then are hushed as the movie starts up.

Steven shifts besides you once, getting comfortable. You try very hard not to listen to his thoughts about needing to readjust himself because of sudden tightness and try to focus on the movie.

The film is a historical based psychological horror. The students worked on the script well but were clearly limited by their equipment and production costs. Still, there was a good build up of tension that delivered with jump scares. Enough for you to instinctively reach out to grab Steven’s hand and notice that he was shaking. You turn and notice his eyes were closed, his mental chattering a mantra of: it’s not real. It’s not real.

Your heart broke.

“Oh Steven, why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like scary movies.” You turn to face him fully and pull him to face you.

“It’s alright.” His voice shudders a bit. “I hadn’t expected how…” a scream from the film has him flinching. “…realistic it’d be.” He smiled crookedly.

“Hey.” You press your hands to either side of his face, covering his ears and touching his temples at the same time.  “Look at me. Look at my eyes.”

He mutters protest but does what he’s told. Another delivered scare has him wincing and you focus your ability.  You haven’t done this in some years but you reach out psychically to his mind. You make it so the cinema fades away from his conscious senses. The sound distant, the light muted, and all that there is, is just you and him with your eyes as his focal point.

“Breathe with me, Steven.” You mouth but say in his head. He nods and follows your breathing movements. “Inhale.” you count and then release. “Exhale.” You do that until the tension in his shoulders releases and there’s a relaxed lift to his lips. His thoughts may be incoherent but at least they are pleasant. Soon his eyes droop closed and he starts to slump forward.  Keeping skin to skin contact consistent, you shift so he is leaning against your neck and shoulders and is comfortable. You’ve settled in when you notice it. The presence.

Only it’s not just a presence, it’s a full visual manifestation of it again. And it’s sitting right next to Steven on the other side of his seat, on the top of it. It’s leaning slightly forward against its staff and staring straight ahead at the film. Its bird skull head tilts this way and that, and finally when a scream from the film drifts in again, you hear it. 

A deep rumbling chuckle came from it. Such foolish beings. Do they not see the creature lurking. It gestures a hand at the screen and makes a noise, like a scoff before leaning back- languid and lounging.

You’re frozen in spot. You make no noise, no gesture. You don’t even try to change anything psychically anymore. But you stare at it and it’s talking. It was...watching the movie?

What was it? Why was it possessing Steven? You had so many questions and none of the courage to voice them. The only thing you did was keep Steven calm and sleeping. But eventually you’d need to stop, you’d get tired, or you’d need to get up off this chair.

You spent the rest of the movie starring as that thing watched the movie and reacted, commentated, and even criticized the intimidation technique like a critic - which was weird to say the least. When the movie ended, that thing sighed and looked at you once before disappearing.

While you’re no stranger to the supernatural, creatures of the night like vampires, werewolves, or even other enhanced humans like yourself, but this…this thing was nothing like that. Whatever it was, was far beyond anything you knew.

With it gone, you let go of your psychic link to Steven and released a shuddering breath.

You don’t know how long you sat there, but long enough Steven woke up.

“Oh my days I’m so sorry for falling asleep on you-wait...you’re shaking.” Steven touches you. “Guess the movie was scarier than we thought, yeah?”

You stare at Steven and nod mutely. He rubs your arms and offers his jacket when your teeth chatter.  Your lack of movement for the better part of an hour neglected your circulation and now you were cold. Steven chattered away, talking about the parts of the movie he did catch and you respond best you can as you walk from the theater.

The original plan was to go to get dinner after the movie but you don’t think you could stomach anything after that experience.

“So…” Steven pulls you from your musings.

“Hmm?” You glance up and start, immediately recognizing your surroundings. “How did we end up in my yard?” You look at the neighborhood and then at a digital clock on the side of a shop. “We’ve been walking for an hour?!” You rounded on Steven.

“You seemed a bit shook and on auto, so yeah.” Steven explains. “So I just let you lead us. Didn’t want to leave you alone, not at this time of night. Though…with what neighborhood we’re in - I’m a little concerned in general.” This place is dodgy.

You bite your lip and stare at your hands where you still clutched his. No wonder you hadn’t come out of it sooner. Skin to skin contact with Steven was going to be dangerous if you go out at night. You’d never be able to hear dangerous thoughts coming.

“Thank you for walking with me…I guess all the way to my home.  Not how I expected you to find out where I live though.” You laugh and wince up at the dodgy building that housed your flat.

“S’alright. Guess the movie was a bit much for both of us. Real sorry about that.”

“Hey now, no apologies. We both picked it. We just…”

“…seriously underestimated university students.” Steven finished with a puff of his cheeks. You had to admit? It did bring a little smile to your cheeks. “Will you be alright tonight?” He asked. Living in this neighborhood, how does she ever relax?

“Yeah, despite the movie, we did have a bit of fun.” You muse. “Next time though, no scary movies. Not even independent ones.”

“Next time?” Steven rose his brows up with hope and the corner of his lip pulled up.

“Well obviously. I mean, you drooled on me.” You shrug as though that was all the justification needed. ���You’ve got to make up for that.”

Steven sputtered with a laugh. His head tilted forward and his curls hanging over his forehead making his already dark eyes into pools of warmth.

“Gosh you’re beautiful when you laugh.” You sigh wistfully.

“What?” Steven started, thrown off balance.

“Nothing!” You spin and head for your door but Steven strode after you and in a fit of unparalleled confidence stopped you and leaned forward.

He hung halfway into a kiss. Kiss her. Kiss her! I want to kiss her but…it’s not right. Not after that fright.

Surprisingly, he steps back with a content smile and you don’t chase him for one.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah?” You say and he nods. “Good night.”

You climb up into your apartment. You don’t take your shoes off, or your jacket - which is Steven’s you realize too late. You sit at your desk and eye your phone.  Until finally you get his text.

Steven: made it! I’m knackered, so I’ll ask about my review tomorrow. Get some sleep, I think we both need it.

You: will do.

You frown at the simple response you gave and then add.

You: you left your jacket behind. Just so you know, I’ll be sleeping with it on, to help me fall asleep.

Steven: If it means you’ll have something to help chase off the nightmares, then I’m glad I left it. hope it helps.

You: it will.

You: also you didn’t bite my tongue like you said. So disappointed. ;P

Steven: look forward to it next time then, among other things.

Your face is blazing with heat as you stare at the message. It took him no time to send it. You set your phone down, then pick it up again, then down the finally you squeal into your arms with a blooming smile and your legs kicking the air.

You and Steven were on your sixth date. Not that you were counting and keeping track with mementos in a shoe box or anything. No never that .  

After your second date, you had two dinner dates. One to a new middle eastern restaurant with excellent vegan options you got a reservation at. And another to a Spanish seafood place, after you offhandedly mentioned you had a hankering for paella. You felt bad because there wasn’t much in the way of options for vegan, and so dragged him to a food stall for him to get a gyro because you could hear in his thoughts how hungry he still was. You then made the concentrated decision to only go to vegan restaurants whenever going out with Steven. You can have meat at home. 

Steven took you to high tea at Fortnum & Mason where there was an entire menu of plant based sandwiches and desserts. After one too many fluted glasses of their house Champagne, you spent entirely too long kissing - not snogging - outside your flat, playing with the idea of inviting him up. Ultimately he left, with the muttering about being under the influence. You had to agree, even if you didn’t want to. But you had very pleasant dreams that night and woke up to leftovers you carried out with. 

In between each date were a handful of kisses, most of them chaste, numerous texts, emails, and late night phone calls. Once you both stayed up all night on a phone call. 

But today, number six, you were having a picnic in the park. 

It was a lovely Sunday with uncharacteristically fantastic weather for the time of year. You sat opposite Steven on a blanket in the park. He leaned against a tree reading a book, as you expected Egypt, this time on Anubis. 

You had a sketch pad in your lap, attempting to draw a figure. Attempting to because the subject of your muse rarely stopped moving or vanished from your psychically enhanced sight when Steven’s touch lifted from you.  

See you had removed your shoes, and Steven was absently rubbing the skin of one of your ankles above your socks while reading. He only stopped when he turned a page, with a calm relaxed disposition. Aside from the touch occasionally being distracting and sending gooseflesh across your calves, it facilitated the psychic connection and allowed you to see the bird brained figure. 

You were calling it that because it seemed to move everywhere but where you wanted it to. Like a strutting pigeon ruining all your chess plans. 

You huff and closed the sketchpad, fed up with trying. The bird brained presence was off near a street musician busking. It was bobbing it’s floating skull head and moving around gracefully through the people. It looked like dancing. Yet no one else but you saw it. 

Apparently, it enjoyed horror movies and music. 

“Finished drawing?” Steven asked looking up from his book. 

You grumbled and threw the sketch pad toward your bags. 

“Barely started. Never was good at it.” You’d been hoping to catch the writing on the presence’s adornments to do some research on what they meant. They were Egyptian hieroglyphs for sure but it was always difficult to get a clear shot of them. And without at least the whole string of them, you’d never figure out who the presence was and why it was possessing Steven. 

Well you had a theory why it favored Steven, considering his enthusiasm for Egyptology. But you still wanted to understand what or who it was. And whether it meant Steven any harm. Which is sort of why you hadn’t told him. ThT and you’d look like a nutter unless you revealed your telepathy and you weren’t there yet. 

“Aw no. Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you just need practice, yeah?” Steven encouraged, sitting up to grab the sketch book. You grabbed his hand instead and leaned forward to sit next to him. 

“While I appreciate your confidence in my artistry. I barely managed stick figures.” You huffed, shifting and making yourself comfortable. Steven lifted one arm to wrap around you as you settled into his side.  “Still reading about Anubis?”

“Re-reading actually.” Steven explained and showed you the book was highlighted with notes in the margins. “Been a bit since I read it. Anubis being one of the big ones and all.”

“That’s the god of the underworld right?” You ask, and he hums. 

That’s oversimplifying it.

You pout. Maybe you should read up more on it. Perhaps being more familiar with it will help you translate whatever is on the pigeon’s adornments and get you closer to figuring it out. 

“You know, when I was a kid. I went through a horribly cringey ancient Egyptian phase.” You explained with a stretch of your legs. 

“Did you? I’m sure it couldn’t have been all that bad.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah it wasn’t inspired by anything in reality but by an anime.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me-“ he groaned. It’s got to be Yugioh

“Yeah…you probably guessed it.” He had. And you giggled as he covered his face. 

“Why not The Mummy or Kane Chronicles instead?”

“After what Anne Rice did to her fans, I’d sworn off all her books. And I was very much in university by the time Riordan released those. And too much of a twat who thought herself above reading teen books.”

“Hang on.” He closed the book and squinted at you suspiciously. “Didn’t you say you read Twilight?” Steven poked at your logic. 

“That is neither here nor there, Steven!”

“That was a teen book. Arguably far far far worse than Riordan’s. And you read it.”

“Steven!” You gasp. “It was a morbid sense of curiosity alright!”

“Then perhaps you should get a sense of morbid curiosity for the Kane Chronicles.” He shot back with a grin. 

“Oh you would just love that wouldn’t you.” You huffed and crossed your arms. “Watching me reading and going all fangirl over it, and- and excited.”

“I would enjoy you being excited.” Steven said softly with a wicked grin. 

“Steven!” Your mouth dropped open.

“Hush, you. We can’t have you screaming my name in the park. It’s indecent.” He tapped his lips to indicate you had to be quiet. 

“I’ll show you indecent.” You growl and pull him by his collar toward you and falling back against the blanket. 

He dropped the book to catch himself from falling flush against you and hovered over you, gazing longingly at you. 

“Where’s that mild-mannered man I met months ago?” You whisper. 

“S-Still here.” He gulped. 

“Remarkably devious of you to hide behind such cocksure lines.”

“I wasn’t hiding.” He murmurs and leans down to whisper over your lips. “You just bring out another side of me is all.”

“Are you suggesting it’s my fault?”

“A bit, yeah.” He grinned and pressed his forehead to yours to stare. 

“Well…” you sigh, angling your head to try to catch his lips. “Guess I should be flattered.”

Steven pulled away, denying you. “Say please.”

“Steven.” You warn. 

His lips stretched up to one side as he firmly spoke, “Say. Please.” 

“If you don’t kiss me right now I’ll-”

“You’ll what?”

You had no idea what you’d do. Because getting up and pushing him away was out of the question. You could say you’d just kiss him but he could easily pull back. 

He almost called your bluff if it weren’t for his thoughts n

Say please. Please say please. I want to kiss you so much. I want to do so much more than that but kissing would be really great right now. 

“Please.”

“Thought so.” He smirked. 

“You did not just-“

He pressed his lips to yours with a throaty chuckle, silencing your affront. You didn’t stop him either, but let him mentally gloat in his victory. 

He’d gotten better at kissing. He took it slower, and drank more of you in, melding against your lips, biting and teasing. His one free hand that wasn’t propping himself up cupped your jaw. 

You slipped your hands up to the base of his neck and lightly scraped your nails against his scalp up into his curls. 

Steven’s appreciative moan was music to your ears. 

You parted when you needed to breathe. You were lightheaded and panting. His eyes were half lidded, yet unable to hide those dark brown pools of want and a deep yearning that were mirrored in your eyes from a look in his mind. 

“Do you...” Steven began and then stopped. He hadn’t been thinking anything beforehand but now several ideas flitted past his mind. All of which involved his flat. Going back to his flat right then, then thoughts of his bed. No. No. Can’t do that. Gotta hide the restraint first. 

Restraints?

You’d developed a hell of a poker face with your ability through the years. But even that thought was honestly not expected. He was sweet and easily flustered and able to deliver some cocky one liners here and there. But you never would have expected he had restraints in his bed. What sort of play did he get into?

“Do I?” You verbally prod, now very curious where this would go. 

He swallowed and then pushed up and away. “Do you want to eat? And maybe sit more comfortably?” 

Alright then, you mentally agree. Put a pin on that for now. 

You sit up, looking at the odd angle you had ended up on. “Yeah, probably for the best.” You shift and scoot forward so you could lay down properly. While sat up you grabbed the basket, pulling out a bowl of cut fruits. 

You were going to offer some to him, when his hand came around to sneak the first kiwi. 

“Hey! I was going to eat that!”

“Too slow.” Steven taunted and stuffed the full piece into his mouth. 

“Oh really? You want to play like that?”

Steven batted his lashes, in an attempt at innocence. Which was negated by his cheeks puffed out from the large kiwi morsel. “I haven’t-“ he chewed. “Haven’t the slightest clue what you mean.” He swallowed and smiled. 

“Menace.” You hiss and then hunch your shoulders over the bowl to eat. But he reached over, trying to get at it. “Hey. No. Stop.”  You giggle while moving the bowl away from him. You stuff two pieces of fruit in your mouth when you feel Steven at your back. You glance and he’s on his knees and then lunges, arms slipping around your waist to grab at a fruit - any fruit. 

You wriggle, dodging his attempts with a titter of laughter. Steven whines and pushes his face against the back of your neck where he presses a messy kiss. 

“Don’t slobber all over me!” 

“I thought you liked my kisses.” He said between each peck. 

“I do, just not-“ your breath hitches when he grew bold and nipped your skin between his teeth. Not for long but enough you knew what he did. That stilled you long enough for him to sneak the bowl from you. “Oi!” Your cheeks burned. “That was dirty.” You raise a finger to him but mischief fills his gaze. 

“Guess what else is.” Steven whispered.

“Your mind?“ You breathe. 

“No yours.” Steven taunted and then pushed away, with the bowl of fruit held aloft triumphantly. 

“You tosser!” You lunge for him. He laughs and falls back with you on top, not that he minded a bit. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon like that. Kissing and feeding each other fruits. 

The seventh date wasn’t planned. You had finished up meeting an old Uni friend who needed a contact on an obscure book. You decided on getting some chips from Just Chips when you heard his thoughts over everyone else’s.  

Gus’ll love these new treats.  

Given what you remember about him needing to hide a restraint, the thought piqued your interest.  

Who was Gus? Was Gus a bird or a bloke? Was it weird that instead of being jealous of a potential playmate, you were more curious? Also, what was the treat? 

You looked around instinctively and spotted Steven holding a bag while walking

Only once a day though. Mustn't over do it. He’ll have trouble swimming again.

You lifted a brow up. That didn’t answer any question you had. Only made you more confused. You followed after him, footsteps hurried and intended on sneaking up to give him a hug when his pace increased. 

Am I being followed? No. don’t look. Keep going. Dun have anything in my pockets right? Shit my phone is in there. But if I reach for it, the pickpocket will go for it. 

Steven’s shoulders tensed and he held the bag of his purchase in front of him. 

Don’t go home. Try and lose them?  

Slowing down to give him space, he looked to the store fronts they passed. 

Reflection. Maybe I can see who it is. So I can report them. 

Smirking, you follow just far enough he couldn’t see you in a reflection unless he turned more. And if he did that he may as well look back fully. 

Stuffing another chip coated in curry ketchup in your mouth, you lick your fingers and then reach into your pocket. You’ll have to wipe it clean later but this will be worth the smudged screen. 

You: I never realized how good you look from behind. ;P

You looked up and heard the ringtone for a text received from his pocket. 

Shite . Grab everything. He fumbled and reached for his pocket to grab his phone. You watched in the reflection as he grabbed his keys and his wallet, which he plopped into the bag. He then opened his phone. His head jerked back, confused. 

“What is she on about?” He said out loud.

You text him again. 

You: turn around sexy. 

A beat and Steven turned, the worried brows melted from his face as he saw you.  You gave him a little wave. 

“Damn near gave me a panic attack, luv.” He released a breath and touched his chest. Shoulders loosened as you stepped up to him, pocketing your phone in your shirt. 

“Didn’t mean to. I just noticed you a few blocks back is all.”

“Why didn’t you call out to me then?”

“I was enjoying the view, thank you very much.” You defend. “And my mouth was stuffed with chips, so I couldn’t exactly call out.” You gesture at the cone in your hand. “Want some? It’s vegan, just so you know.”

“Are my habits rubbing off on you?.” He grinned and grabbed one. “Cheers.” 

“Hardly.” You roll your eyes. “I still have meat. You’ll never change that about me.” You explain. “I just do it in the privacy of my flat so I don’t offend.”

“I imagine most people do it in private.” Steven lowered his voice. “Unless you’re an exihibitionist.”

You’re coughing, almost choking after hearing that come from Steven Grant’s mouth. You have to stop walking to hack and up the chip that almost went down the wrong pipe. Steven’s eyes are wide with mischief, lips quirked into the naughtiest shite eating grin you ever did see. He pats your back.

His mind a titter of laughter. Her face! Oh piss she’s coughing bad. 

You heave breath in to catch up and stare open mouthed, gasping,“Steven Grant!” 

He smirks and grabs a chip and continues walking. 

“You coming?” It sounded innocuous but then he winked. 

“Oh you naughty rascal.” You mutter under your breath and follow after him. Begrudgingly letting him have the victory, even if your face and neck were filled with heat. While other parts of you were a bit more damp than before. 

There’s a few moments of silence as you walk alongside him, eating. 

Invite her up to the flat. 

You look up at him, and see he’s biting his lower lip. He catches you looking and smiles. 

Everything’s clean and tidy for once. 

You lick your lips as he watches. He’s gulping and then opens his mouth. 

“So what did you buy?” You ask hurriedly, and then face forward. Why did you go and do that?! 

“Huh? Oh! This is. This is for Gus.” He holds up the bag and you tilt your head to see the brand of an aquatic pets store. 

“Gus…is a fish?” Well now that made more sense. Rather than what your gutter dwelling brain went for. 

“My goldfish!” Steven beams. 

“You have a pet goldfish.”

“Yeah, he’s a great pet. A one finned wonder.”

“One fin? A disabled fish. Was it a rescue or was the pet store mistreating their fishies?”

Steven’s energy could not have gotten more excited. “The fact you know that’s a possibility,” He whispers in awe and all but hums with unbridled joy. “Do you want to meet him?”

“Right now?” You ask. 

“I was heading back to my flat before you were a sneaky tit and nearly scared me.” He goes on. 

“Hmm. Alright. Plus it would make us even.” You counter. 

Steven blinked with confusion. 

“Six dates and I still don’t know where you live but you know where I do.” You point at him with a chip. 

“Oh, yeah. That too.” He grins sheepishly. “I meant to bring you around before.” He starts but you wave him off as you catch reasons you already knew in his head. Dirty flat. Restraint in clear sight. Etc etc. then he throws you a curveball. “Six dates?” He smirks. “Are you counting?”

“I would love to meet Gus.” You interject pointedly. 

“Avoiding the question, luv.” He sing-songs with a smug chuckle. “But it’s back this way.” He says and slides an arm around your waist to turn you around back the way you were walking from. 

“Hang on! Did we already walk past?”

“I wanted to keep walking with you.” Steven admits sheepishly. 

You grin around a chip. “You’re too sweet.” Steven beams. 

Steven’s flat entrance is in a busy street with a broom vendor blocking his entrance from view on the street.  It's tucked away from view already and if you didn’t know where it was it would be impossible to find. 

As soon as he opens the door to the building you know the flat he has is going to be big. There’s a bleeding elevator in the building! Yours just has three flights of very narrow and very steep stairs you had to hike up and down every day. You’re folding the chips cone to throw out, fishing napkins from your pockets to clean your hands as the elevator goes up.  Steven talks about Gus, and how he was a rescue fish that he nursed back to health and even had a little fish-wheelchair for him to start to help him build strength. He’s got his phone out showing you the progress pictures of the color returning to little Gus. 

On the fifth floor, Steven takes you to his door. He pauses. 

Did I clear the desk? What about the kitchen counter? Shite, I think I left my pants on the bed!

“Steven?” You poke him and he looks at you. 

“Er…it might be a bit disorganized.” Not dirty, just a bit messy.  “Just…uh wait one moment.” He opens the door, slips inside, pausing very quickly to kiss the mezuzah in the doorway then he rushes inside leaving you out in the hall. You don’t mind, because you close your eyes and reach out with your mind to track him. You get some of his neighbors’ thoughts but you ignore those. 

Yep knew it. I left them. His feet pounded against the wood indicating his hurried movements around his flat. A plastic bag was opened, paper crumpled, and dishes clinked. “Almost done!” He frantically calls out. Start the kettle - start the kettle!! The tap turned on, water filling, then metal on metal clanked and he breathed. He took a moment to calm his breathing, rake his hair back and then he was walking back to the door. 

You opened your eyes and retracted your psychic reach as he opened the door fully. 

Still here. The breath he releases is relieved. “Come in.” He steps aside and you walk in with your hands clasped behind you. You don’t look at anything in his flat except for the back wall briefly. You were right, his flat is massive. It’s a studio but huge even for that. You snap your gaze back to him and spin slowly on tip toes to keep him in sight as he closes the door. 

“So.” Steven says. 

“So…” you pivot on your heels forward and back. “Where’s Gus?” You remind him. 

Delight fills him and he points to the fish tank behind you and leads you that way. You hunch forward to look at the goldfish swimming happily. Steven moves to the other side of the tank looking at you.

“Isn’t he magnificent?” Steven gushes. “You see how well he swims with just one fin?” Steven points. The goldfish swims slightly toward him and then starts ascending. 

“I do. Oh…look at how bright his scale colors are. Such a beautiful orange.” You coo and grin. This you didn’t need to pick from his thoughts. “No snails?”

She knows to look for that. Steven’s thoughts are swooning. 

“Sadly no. When I first got him I kept going back and forth on getting him a little friend. I wasn’t sure if he’d stay as small as he was due to only having one fin. There was a decent chance that he’d get bigger. And I didn’t want him to outgrow a snail buddy and then end up choking on it when he tried to eat it.” Steven explains tracking Gus’s movements. The goldfish reached the surface to gasp its mouth open and closed. 

Steven smiled, “Guess he wants a treat.” He stepped away from the tank to grab the bag he had dumped on the kitchen counter. You watch his reflection briefly then pressed one hand against the glass and focused on the goldfish. 

When you were a child, fleeing the thoughts of your family, school mates, and neighbors - you spent a lot of time with the family pets. They were quiet. You couldn’t hear their thoughts around them or when touching them. Naively you assumed they had none to listen in on; that they were pure instinct.  You were proved wrong on a visit to a zoo and encountered your first orangutan. You saw images of the orangutan's memories. You focused on it, far more than you would have had to for any human or humanoid without touching them. While the thoughts weren’t as coherent or interpretable to human language, you could get a sense of their life, their mood, their state of being.  How much detail you could glean depended on the intelligence of the animal and how close to human interpretable information you could get. 

Staring at Gus intently, you reached out psychically to it. You cut everything else off, even Steven, and made your whole world Gus’s.  You mirrored Gus’s mouth movements and swayed to and fro like you were swimming - enveloped in oxygen rich water that filled your lungs. 

Safe. Content. Fed. Clean. Healthy.  

Steven came back into view. 

Happy. Safe. Happy. Safe. Happy! Safe. Happy! Happy! 

Gus’s emotions spiked, overwhelmingly so. Not hunger, or desire for food. Just happiness at seeing Steven. It was so much, it overflowed into you. 

You broke the psychic connection with a small gasp. Bracing yourself on one of the wooden pillars framing the fish tank you avert your eyes from looking at Steven.

“I...once read…” your voice is soft.

“Hm?” Steven looked up as he opened the fish treats bottle. 

“…some goldfish do that motion with their mouth, when they see their owner and are happy to see them. Not just because they’re hungry.” You explain as you fought off the dizziness and pounding in your temples from the focused connection.

Steven stands up straighter to look at you. He knew that already but was surprised that anyone who wasn’t a fish owner would know that. He was about to ask if you have a pet fish, but it died in his throat as you turned away. 

“You alright, luv?”

You waved off his concern. You needed to sit down. You only meant to check on the fish’s well being. Not that you doubted Steven’s ability, but you were curious.  Still it was reckless of you to have connected like that to a non-human animal without preparation. With animals, there was always a chance of an overflow of strong emotions that could infect you. 

“Need to sit.” 

Steven was next to you in an instant, guiding you to his desk chair. 

“Here.” He murmured. “Let me get you some tea. The kettle is almost done.”

You hum and nod, not fighting him as he pushes you into the chair. 

He brings you a glass tea cup with a little bulb at the bottom. It unfurled with the heated water, blooming into a flower and flavoring the water and air sweetly. 

You stare in awe at Steven

Flowering teas - especially good ones - are difficult to find. Usually they’re a limited run and expensive for just four or five bulbs. And the kind you prefered you had to buy at Tea Palace and and were always a limited run. You mentioned it once in conversation. A warmth blooms in your chest. “You found a box of it?” 

Steven who pulls up another chair. “Yeah?” He looks at you over his own cup.  “You said you didn’t get to have it often. I thought- well I mean…If I ever had you over, it’d be nice to have something you’d like, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Seeing him look at you with genuine warmth and concern in his gaze, and hearing the consideration behind his actions again. After the flowers, after the dates, and this - it made your chest flutter. Like a heart palpitation. Or a skipped heart beat. 

Blood rushed into your ears. 

“Luv?” Steven got up, reaching for you.  

“Um…” you set the mug down as your hands were sweaty. “I uh…” you press a hand to your chest, where your heart pounded hard. “I…I need the wash.“

“It’s that way.” 

You close the door behind you once you’re in.  You covered your mouth panting into your palm and staring at your reflection. 

It’s because of the fish. You tell yourself. It’s a lie. 

You pace the short length of the washroom. When it doesn't help, you turn on the faucet and splash your face. Your cheeks are too warm, your throat parched. You drink some water, rake your hair back and stare at your reflection. 

It’s the overflow.  You try to convince yourself. It’s a lie. 

You sit on the tub’s lip and take deep breaths, trying to clear your head. 

It’s too soon! You’re breathing fast. 

You’ve had six dates. Have you ever made it to six dates? Well seven if you count right now. But had you? Without discovering something two-faced or horrible about a significant other in their thoughts?

“Oh.” You gulp air. Significant other. You didn’t even know what you were to Steven or what he was to you.  Were you a couple? Were you - involved? Should you ask? You should. 

But what if it is too soon? Hearing people’s thoughts had the unfortunate circumstance making you feel you got closer to people emotionally faster than they were with you.  It’s why you usually gave up after three, maybe four dates.  So were you and Steven at the same level of attachment? Were you in…

Hope she’s alright. Steven knocks on the door.  “If you need anything, the drawer’s got some over the counters.”  You open the drawer and see a bottle of nuromol.  

Heavens, he was so considerate it made your chest ache more.  

This would be so much easier if you could just calm down and think without the mess of your feelings, and hormones of your body.  

That’s it! You needed to be out of your body. 

You sit on the floor cross legged. 

In your gap year after you passed your A levels and before you went to Uni, you went backpacking in the middle east and South Asia.  You figured, you’re a Telepath, you’d be alright.  You weren’t. 

You learned the harsh lesson that there were other things that went bump in the night and minds. Enhanced humans, aliens, supernatural beings, and so many others. You were woefully unprepared to defend yourself physically, and even less so - astrally.  Six months in Kathmandu, Nepal fixed that. 

You slow your breathing down, place a hand on your chest, and turn your telepathy inward, into yourself.  And then you push .

Your body slumps backward but you - your soul floats as you project into the astral plane. 

You hadn’t even known you could astral project as an expansion of your telepathy. Well you did, but that wasn’t what you called it. You always thought it was just dreaming. That everyone experienced it. Seeing your own body in bed and exploring the night outside of yourself.  

The world is silent. There are no thoughts here. None but your own. Without influence. 

You float through the door and see Steven, somewhat frozen in time. 

It takes you no time at all to know for sure what you felt was real. It wasn’t just the fish. Gus’s emotions may have made you clear the fog away - but it was all you at the center. 

You float closer to Steven, press your astral palms to his cheeks and are about to kiss his forehead to leave a layer of telepathic protection for his dreams when the astral plane grows dark. The only light streams in from the windows, silver like moonlight. 

Cease your actions!

You get no warning when the pigeon skulled creature grips your astral form, yanking you from Steven. 

This one is under my protection.

It’s massive form towers over you as it puts itself protectively between you and Steven.

Return to your body.

It pushes you through the door and back into your body. 

You’re gasping awake, limbs flailing, and are assaulted with the panicked thoughts of Steve. He’s calling your name and says something about opening the door. 

“I’m alright!” You call out. And you mean it. Oh sure the presence gave you a scare. But you hadn’t gotten any malicious intent from it there.

Slowly, you get to your feet, brush off any dirt and then unlock the door.

Steven stares at you, his worry lines prominent from his furrowed brow, shoulders tensed and ready to spring into action. 

“You alright?” 

“Yes.” You breathe and step into him, your arms wrapping around his middle and burying your face into his chest. 

He does not hesitate and tucks you against him.  This is nice. So nice.  His arms tight around you, body sagging into the embrace and his heart thudding - skipping a beat in your ear.  “ Oh. ” 

Fits so perfectly in my arms. 

Steven kept you enveloped and pressed to his chest. He dipped his face into your hair and took a deep breath. The sound of his exhale was both loud and quiet, and all together comforting. 

Don’t let go. Not yet. Please. 

Not that you wanted to pull away. You gripped his shirt tightly when he rubbed your back. Slowly, unsure and then in full strokes. From your shoulder blades to your lower back, and up again. A steady hand with trailing fingers that applied pressure along your spine. If you could, you’d be arching your back into him when he did, but you were as close as you could get with clothes on. 

Stay here. Like this. Just a bit longer. 

You’re not sure whose thought that is. Yours or Steven’s. But you stand there with Steven, breathing him in as much as he does you. You look up and find he is staring back. 

“Hello.” He says in that sweetly shy tone you’ve heard him use for stray cats and dogs on the street, afraid they might run before he can pet them. 

“Hey you.” You mutter back. 

“Not that I…” he licks his lips. “Not that I want to stop holding you like this.”

“Hmm?” You hum. 

“But are you alright?” He asks. “Last I heard was you fall in there-” he gestured with his chin toward the wash. “And next you were walking out-”

“Into your arms.” You finish.

“Yeah. That.” there’s a flash of a smile before he worries his lip. “Before that, you looked like you were about to have a fit.” 

“A bit yeah.” You admit softly. “But I think…I needed to be grounded.” You squeeze against him for emphasis. “I needed this.”

“You sure? Because if you need to talk, I’m here.” I’ll always be here. “You know that right? Anything you need.”

You smile and tuck your head against his chest again.  Your grip on him tighter as a spike of anxiety coiled around you. 

“I do.”

“Do…?”

“Need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“To you that is. Or rather.” You huff. “We need to talk.”

“Oh…” Oh no. Panic swirled in Steven’s mind. Nothing good ever comes from that specific phrase. 

“Nothing bad. Honest.” You assuage his concerns quickly. 

Steven takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Whatever you need.”

“I need some clarity. To make sure we’re on the same page. So to speak.”

“Alright. Okay. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, bracing himself and he pulls away. 

You’re cold without his body heat and you stumble a little from leaning against him and no longer having his physical support. “But first.” You start. 

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Can-” You bite your bottom lip. “May I touch you?”

Steven stares at you with a parted mouth for a long time. He is so still, you wonder if you’re back in the astral plane. But no. It appears StevenGrant.exe is unresponsive. You wonder how you would even begin to restart him because even his thoughts are hanging as if frozen in white noise. 

“Steven?” You wave your hand. 

That gets a reaction because his brows rise up high. “T-Touch me?” His voice cracks. Don’t look at the bed. Don’t look at the bed. Don’tLookAtTheBed!!! His gaze flicks to his bed and back to you a few times. Piss. Shit.  And not even just once.  Steven you knob. 

“Not- not that kind.” You bite your tongue and cover your mouth to keep from giggling. “But it could lead there, if we’re not careful.”

“Oh well if it could lead there, then yes.” Steven blurts out without filtering it in his thoughts first. He sputters. “I mean- I didn’t. Not that I’m hoping- well, I am hoping. But- But not that I expect it to. And only if you want as well and if you- if you- want to stop we will but if you don’t- I would- I would…like…to-” his voice died in his throat and he released a pitifully adorable sound as he stopped talking. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when he snapped his mouth closed. “Steven?”

“Hmm?” He hums, high pitched. “Oh, uh yeah…so ho-how do you want to t-t-” he doesn’t say it, clearly nervous. 

You step toward him and he holds his breath, watching you. He audibly swallows. You gesture to his bed. “Sit, please.”

He backs up, his steps small. You advance on him slowly, afraid you might spook him. Though as you do, you wonder if it’s more like you’re prowling. 

The back of his calves hit the bed and he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he lowers. You stop right in front of him. Standing in front of his knees. 

You drink up the sight of him, hair mussed from when he’d raked a hand through it. Eyes wide and filled with dark anticipation, lips freshly licked, and a dark tint to his cheeks - filling them with blood and heat. He was wearing a button up over an under shirt. The sleeves of which had been rolled up showing off his forearms. 

He was beautiful. You never really fully appreciated it before. You had the exact opposite problem as most people. Instead of judging someone on their looks first and slowly get to know what they are like on the inside, you formed your relationships from the inside out. So you didn’t know if you were physically attracted to Steven, and not just aesthetic appreciation. 

“Give me your hands.”

He hummed and lifted them to you. 

You grabbed them, hands you’ve held dozens of times now and had never fully examined. Too busy listening into his thoughts. But you were changing that now. 

Steven had calloused hands. They were familiar under your touch, steady warm but now that you were paying attention, you noticed the skin was thickened from years of rough work you knew nothing about. That didn’t make sense. 

You turned them over, and his knuckles told a further story, with thick knuckles and rough skin it was odd. Moving from his hands to his wrists and forearms, the skin had a smattering of scars. Small nicks, cuts, and scrapes that if you hadn’t been examining them closely, you never would have noticed. 

Another thing was how toned his forearms were. What did he do to get like this? Surely working as a gift shop clerk didn’t put him under that much physical stress? Maybe Gardening? But he didn’t have an allotment for his flat. Perhaps Boxing? Sparring? It would certainly explain things. 

You lined the palms of your hands with his and held them up. They were bigger than yours. You trailed your fingers down to his wrists, and down his forearms, studying the shape, thickness, each vein and dip all the way down to his elbows.

And he let you do this exploration, his gaze intensely on yours, breathing going haggard only once when you touched the inside of his elbows. 

You quirked a brow. 

Don’t press there again. Please. Please please. I’ll love it too much and then this will be a very short evening. 

An erogenous zone? Interesting. 

Manipulating his hands until his palms faced you, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to each. 

Steven held his breath as you then pressed your cheek against them, to feel their rough texture. 

He muttered your name softly, like a reverent moan and prayer. 

“Yes?” You ask. 

“May I touch you?” There’s a heat to the way he says it, and with the way his eyes darken and his thoughts swirl with what he wanted to do to you, you’re squirming, thinking you know what to expect. But there’s hearing and seeing the plan for what he wants to do, and there’s actually experiencing it. You nod and let go of his hands and lower yours. 

They don’t stay there. He begins to mirror everything you did to him, yet he adds more to it. He shifts both of his hands to holding one of yours.  He gives you one more glance before doing his own exploration with an intensity like he was memorizing the shape of you. 

He cupped your hand and pressed a thumb into your palm. Reflexively you wrap your fingers around it. He pushes your long sleeves up your forearm, leaving it bunched at your elbow.

Shivers run down your spine when he trails his fingers back to your wrist while humming. His nails scrape down the length of your inner arm, making your skin and body jump. You gasp. There’s a mischievous head tilt at that. Note to self. Ticklish here. 

He looks up at you from beneath his lashes as he presses his thumb at your pulse point. You spy a playful smile slowly stretching across his lips and he chuckles. 

“Your heart rate…” he whispers. “It’s as fast as mine.” He moves your hand and fingers so your thumb is pressed to his pulse point. 

He’s right. It’s elevated, pulsing quickly. Not matching beat with yours, but rather intensity and speed. 

“Oh.”

Steven takes pleasure in holding this moment, watching you. His breath came in quicker, matching you as you inhale and exhale. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re in sync, and somehow so are your hearts - briefly thudding away at the same tune. 

It makes you shiver with a pleasant thrilling quiver up your spine. 

Steven returns to his exploration. Lifting your arm up, flicking his gaze to make sure you’re watching as he presses a kiss first to your palm and then your pulse point. 

You inhale sharply when he sucks in the too sensitive skin there, teeth nipping and then his tongue soothes over the skin. 

“Oh.” 

Your knees are weak, your chest heaving and head light. You think there can’t possibly be more he could do, but then he parts his legs.  In a split second, he yanks you forward and your legs buckle, you have to grasp his shoulder with your free hand to remain upright.  

The moan is ripped from you when he follows up with pressing his lips to the inside of your elbow. He does the same there, nips the skin but lavishes it with his tongue to soothe the pleasurable pain he caused. 

“Steven…” you rasp. 

“I’m not finished,” he growls and then rubs his cheek up your arm until your palm is against the slow growing scruff of his chin.  He finishes with a kiss to your knuckles. 

Then he repeats everything for your other arm and hand. 

You’re a quivering squirming mess when he finishes. Your breath haggard, and you’re leaning heavily against Steven as he glances up at you. 

“Where-” his voice is thick with emotion. He swallows and licks his lips. “Where else did you want to touch?”

It’s an innocent enough question, and not at all innocent given the context of the heightened state of arousal you both were. 

“For that…” you start, shaking. “We- we’d have to- uh…”

“Yes?” Steven encourages. “Have to?”

“-start taking clothes off.” You explain. 

Steven’s pupils go wide, his nostrils flaring and he nods. “Where?” he asks hungrily. Tell me where. Please. I want you to touch me. I want to touch you more. So much more. So much.

You close your eyes, a deep silent whine as you look up. You wanted to. You really did, and you were so close to giving in.  

“Tell me, please-” he whines. 

You wanted to say everywhere, ensuring you both end up in the very bed he sat on, but you weren’t ready for that. You had only meant to touch him to be sure of your physical attraction to him. Admittedly you went a bit overboard and then he wanted to reciprocate. And now you were very very sure of a mutual physical attraction on top of everything else. 

It was quickly getting out of hand. And you still had questions and a conversation to have. 

“N-no.”

His gaze turns confused and then, hurt as you step back, cold air filling the space between the both of you. He still held your hands, but didn’t pull you back. Did I do something wrong?  He searched for what he could have done. 

“Not- not yet anyway.” You clarify. 

“Oh?”

“Steven.” You pull back a bit more. “We still need to talk.” You really hated the thought of being responsible right this second. You wanted to throw it all away and let Steven know exactly where you wanted to touch him, and where you wanted him to touch you. But you needed to have this conversation. 

“Alright,” he breathed. The hint of panic he’d had before when you said that phrase - was now gone. In its place there was cautious curiosity. “What- what do we need to talk about?” He asks and then adds, “At this very second?”

You stared at him. Cheeky for adding that last bit. But it was important. Maybe not to him, but to you it was. You added more distance between you and Steven and took a deep breath, “What are we?”

Steven’s stare is long and unblinking for a moment. A quivering mess of horniess. 

You bite your tongue at the thought, laughter in your chest. It cut some of the intensity down. 

“Uh…” Steven tilts his head, trying to guess what to answer, just so you return back to touching him. 

You’re flattered - really and you’re ready to accept any answer from him but he still needed to understand the question. You had to be articulate, and with no time to prepare because it was a split second decision in the wash to have this conversation, (for your sanity mostly, and maybe because you wanted to know) you start simply. 

“Are we…together?” 

Steven blinked. Oh. 

“Are we a couple?”

“Oh…” he breathes out heavily, hands against his thighs. “…that talk.”

“Yeah.” You’re a bundle of nerves. “Kind of an important one.”

“Right yeah.” Steven nods and then stands up. He takes a step toward you but decides against it. No-no, too close and I’ll just kiss her. And she’s right, this is important. “Uh well…d-do you want to be?”

“I do, if you do.” You spit out like you’re about to be sick. 

“Good.” He smiles and then frowns. “Wait no, that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Doesn’t it?” You feel very small suddenly. 

“No.” He shakes his head while looking down at his hands. “I want to be with you. I want us to be together. But if it’s not-” he breathes through his nose, bracing himself mentally, “…if it’s not something you also want, then don’t force yourself. I-” his expression is serious, searching for some kind of indication.  “I wouldn’t want to if you didn’t want to as well. Don’t just tell me things you think I want to hear. I want you to be honest.”

There is little difference between his words and his thoughts, barring the phrasing. It makes your eyes burn, but you indignantly try to stop what was happening. 

“Do you want to be with me?” Steven asks. 

“I do.” You whisper. 

Steven’s eyes soften and he takes a step in your direction. Adoration and overwhelmingly affectionate thoughts bled from him to you. 

“I’m-I thank you.” He reaches for your hand, and he brings it up to kiss your knuckles. 

Your smile is quivering. You had other questions to ask. “Do…do you-” you paused, fraught with nerves and stammering. 

Steven, bless him, waited. He didn’t rush you. 

“Do you want our relationship to be open or…?” You hope you don’t have to say it. 

Is she asking for an open relationship? “Just us?” Steven provides while considering his answer. 

“Yeah.” You take a breath. “I mean, I would understand if- if you wanted other partners as well as me.”

Steven let’s go your hand and steps back as if slapped.

You wait for the onslaught of his thoughts, ready for the reveal that he does. But there’s nothing. No thought. 

“You’ve done it again.” He breathes. 

“What?” 

He stutter stepped, hesitant. “I’m beginning to suspect, someone in your past mistreated you.” He seethes, fists clenched. 

“What do you mean?” You don’t confirm anything. 

“Because that’s twice now, you ask what I want?” Steven shakes his head.  “When it’s our relationship. It should matter what we both want. Not just me, or you. Both of us.” He explains firmly. “Of course I wouldn’t want any other partners. But if you do-” his gaze is fierce with conviction. “If we ever do, we can always talk about it. Unless you…have someone in mind now and that’s why you’re asking?”

“N-no!” The word leaps from your lips. “I don’t have anyone- I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then why?”

“I just wanted to make sure that you-” Steven gives you a dark look and you correct yourself. “That we understood. That we’re on the same page.” Your throat is tight after explaining, fighting a bubbling feeling that was ready to burst. 

“Then are we?” Steven searches your face. 

You nod, trying to keep the burning in your eyes under control. But as soon as you blink, a rebellious tear rolls down your cheek against your efforts. And where one escaped, the rest follows as you scrunch up your face. 

Steven takes a step toward you, his brows furrowed. Your name on his tongue with sorrow. 

You gasp and hold a hand up to stop him. “Don’t.” You warn. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No!” You manage out a choked laugh that turns into a sob. 

“But you’re crying!”

“I know!” You look up trying to blink away the rest of the tears, aggravated not at him but yourself. He says your name and steps up despite you backing away to keep the distance. 

What did I do? Steven is genuinely confused and deeply concerned. 

“You’re just-” you let out an annoyed sound. “You say all the right things and are honest and considerate and caring and you asked me what I wanted and no one’s ever done that before!” 

I knew it. 

The flat is silent until you take a shuddering breath. Steven watches you in awe for a moment and then holds out his hand to you. 

You don’t hesitate to take it. 

He folds you into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Is this okay?”

You laugh, and cry, and nod. “Yes. Yes it is.”

It’s a long time he holds you like this, nestled warmly and with your face pressed to his chest, listening to his steady heart beat. His hands are stroking your back again, calming you. The tears are long dried. 

Wanting to get closer, you snake your hands and arms up and wrap them around his neck. You look up at him and he down at you with a contented smile. 

“Steven?”

He hums. 

“Is…this okay?” You ask. 

One of his eyebrows quirk up in a question, and you stand on tip toes and pull him down gently. You don’t kiss him, but the intent is clear. You hover close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to press your forehead to his, to bump your noses together. 

“Oh yes very much.” Steven breathes and then kisses you. 

It starts off intended to be chaste but the contact reignites the fire in you both. A fire previously smothered that now burst into flames with a breeze.  

His hands are on your waist, lifting and pulling you closer. 

You suck on his bottom lip, nipping and moaning. 

“Can we resume touching?” Steven asks between kisses. 

“Please!”

“Thank heavens.” Steven pulls away long enough to grab you by your thighs and lift you. 

You squeal and cling to him as he carries you the short distance to the bed. You half expected him to throw you and clamber in after, but instead he gently lays you down. 

“Shoes,” he explains with a wink. 

“Oh. Right.” You’re about to kick them off but he stops you by grabbing your ankle. 

“No. Let me.” His eyes are dark, curls hanging over them making him look far more seductive than he clearly knew he was. 

“What-oh Oh. Oh.” 

He gets down on one knee, undoing the laces to your trainers. Pulling them off and setting them gently beside the bed, he does the same for your other foot and then removes your socks too. 

You scoot backward, expecting him to join you but he holds your foot, halting you. He looks at it intently, thumb pressed against the arc of your foot, sliding up to the length of your foot and then down to your heel with just enough pressure to make you squirm at first uncomfortably and then-

Your stomach jumped.  A gentler touch would have been ticklish but this…this wasn’t meant to be ticklish. He does the motion again and you fall backward, your hips squirm and you push your foot against Steven’s hand. 

“What are you doing?” You groan.

“I’m touching.”

And then you remember, he had asked to resume touching. 

“You…sneaky-” a moan is ripped from you when he does the motion again. 

“Is this okay?” He asks. There’s a dry tease in his voice, a smile even. 

“Yes!”

He chuckles, and then does it again until your toes curl. Only then does he stop. But he’s not done, not even remotely. He just focuses instead on running his fingers across your skin, over your ankles and to your calves. Back and forth he rubs your leg muscles, ending it as he did with your hands, with a kiss to the arc in your foot. He slides on the bed between your legs, still holding your leg and leans toward your knee. 

The position is provocative and you’ve stopped breathing to watch him as he presses a kiss to your knee and nips the skin as well. The skin there isn’t nearly as sensitive in that way, but you giggle and cover your face when he laughs with you. 

“Are you done?”

“No, I have to do the other leg too.” He grins. 

“You can leave the leg and just do me.” You bite out. 

Steven’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare with his breathing. He seriously contemplated it but shakes his head. “No…it’s only fair,” he whispers and then slides back down the bed to repeat it. 

“Steven!” You growl. 

“You can keep saying my name. It’s only practice for later,” he mutters as he presses his thumb in again. You catch his mischievous grin and glint in his eyes but you fall back on the bed and have to grip his bed sheets when he does the motion again. 

You’re quivering, body on fire by the time he slides back on the bed and hovers over you. 

“You are a menace.”

“But I’m your menace,” he whispers sweetly and then captures your lips with his. 

You have revenge in your mind, pulling him closer until he’s flush and then you wrap your legs around his waist, and roll him so you’re on top. 

Or you would be, if he didn’t continue the roll and now you’re on your back at the edge of the bed. He’s pinned you down with his hips, your legs parted with one leg hanging over the edge. He has your hands in his and tuts into your ear. “Not so fast, luv.”

“Don’t you luv me.” You spit back. 

His breath hitches and he stills, eyes wide like a puppy - reminding you of the first time you met. Not what you meant. But oh days please one day yes let me say it. 

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, as if it wasn’t enough before, he attacked your lips- swallowing any stuttering corrections you were about to try. Your cheeks are hot, your breath stolen. Your hands are trapped by his, so you’re unable to touch him like you wanted or he you - not that he didn’t have other means of lavishing you with attention. But you wanted more- needed more.  With your own arousal and his coming through his thoughts, you needed to do something or you’ll go mad.  So you roll your hips and increase the pressure to your centers and rubbing. 

Steven stops kissing you to groan, “Oh you Minx.” He closed his eyes, forehead to yours to catch his breath.  So close. Keep it together. Not yet. 

“I wouldn’t be, if you let my hands go.” You coo.

“Liar…” he chuckled. “You’d be worse.”

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” He admits. “I really would. Too much.” He groans again when you roll your hips again. This time he retaliates by sliding his hips up. It was just as pleasurably painful for him as it was for you. 

“Steven.” You whine. “There’s no need for this,”

“I think there’s every need.” He chuckles. 

“But…with my hands, I can do so much more. And fix something.” You explain. 

“I think I’m perfectly content right here-” he rubs against you for emphasis. “And what needs fixing, that I cannot do myself?”

“Oh but wouldn’t you prefer to be here-” you rub back, tightening your legs around his waist to trap him. “With a little less fabric between us?”

If his gaze was heated before, it was practically searing with fire as he looked between you. It couldn’t hurt.

You barely register his nod, but do notice when his hips relent and pull back and he’s sitting back on his legs. He lets your hands go. 

That’s it. Yes. Yes. You push yourself up and stare at him. 

“You’re still wearing your shoes.” You point out and slip off the bed as he looks back shocked. But it’s just the time you need to scuttle away from the bed, a destination not far in mind. 

“Hey!” He rasps and clambers off to follow you. “Get back here!” He stops to remove his shoes and set them by the bed next to yours. 

You’re giggling as you dash toward where you had absently dropped your purse. You bend down to grab it. 

His bare feet are slapping against the floor now and you turn to see he’s midway unbuttoning his shirt. 

You back up as he advances and end up against his desk with your purse between you like a shield. You stuff your hand in it as Steven traps you with his arms against the desk.  “Are you going to come back to bed or will I have to carry you?”

“While I would love to be carried, again. I had to grab something from my purse.”

“And what is that?” He asks. 

“This.” You wield the bundle of rubbers you still carried from your second date, provided by your boss. 

Steven looks at them and bursts into laughter remembering the circumstances from which they were obtained. “Remind me to thank him.”

“Will do-” you shriek and shudder when Steven lifts you up on the desk. 

“Hold onto me.” He breathes into your ear. 

“Yes sir.” You agree and do that. 

A spark thrills in his mind and you feel a wicked smile against you as he teases your ear tip between his teeth. “Yes, I like that.”

“What?“

“Sir.” 

Oh. 

“Say it again.” Steven asks gently. 

“Will do, sir.” You oblige with a grin. Steven is positively glowing as he presses his kisses to your cheek, jaw, down and down to your neck line and finally he nips the base of your neck as he lifts you. He sucks in the skin, using his tongue to soothe and then moves on to do it again but just slightly to the left, catching skin made sensitive by his affectionate nips. 

His back is hunched over you as he takes you back to the bed. You’re holding onto his shoulders, trying to lessen his load, but you’re weakened by his mouth. 

Steven lowers you into bed, this time in the center but doesn’t let up on kissing your skin.  He moves from one side to another, leaving a symmetrical pattern of lightly bruised skin. He pulled back long enough to admire his work and finish unbuttoning his shirt. 

You should have worked on your own clothes but you couldn’t look away from Steven as more and more of his chest was revealed to you.  

“Enjoying the show?” Steven asks as he peels off the first shirt, leaving the under one behind. 

“Very.” You quirk a brow as he meticulously folded the shirt before setting it aside on his bedside table. 

Too much. Calm. Relax. Breathe. His thoughts blur into a white noise. You notice there’s a tremor to his hands. He absently pulled at the fabric of his trousers by his crotch. Tight. Relax. Relax. Breathe. 

You give him the moment he needs. He removed his undershirt and did the same. He’s midway folding it when he realizes what he’s done and is about to apologize but you’re already distracted, not by his calming habits but his physicality. 

Beneath the patterned dress shirts and layers of sweaters and jackets, is an expanse of well developed muscle beneath with a healthy layer of fat and hydration that gave him a soft appearance, right until he tensed his abdomen. 

“Wh-hat?” Steven asks. 

“Woah…”

Steven begins to physically retract, the confidence he’d been displaying retreated as he smiles nervously. His shoulders hunch. “I-is something wrong?”

“N-no. Just…wow. Where…how-what do you do in your spare time?”

Steven ducks his head down, curls hiding his gaze, and shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing special.” 

“Then you’ve got a seriously efficient metabolism…” you want to touch him but your hand hovers when you see him squirm uncomfortably. You pull your hand back. 

“I- well I-” Steven tries. Oh this is going to be embarrassing. 

“Yes?”

“I dance…”

“You dance?” You ask, bewildered. “What kind?”

Steven squirms again. “All? Or just about.”

“No… no way!” You gape at him. It explained so much! His callouses, the thickened skin on his knuckles, how he held himself to take up as little room as possible, and how he could carry you with little preparation. “I…” you bite your bottom lip and stare lovingly at him. “I kind of want to see you dance.”

Steven releases an exasperated sigh. “Right now?” 

“Heavens no. But later.” You wave off. 

“Good. Because I’m not going to pirouette on command.” He grins. 

“You- ballet?!” 

“Joking! It was a joke.” Steven hastily adds. Though I do know how to pirouette, just not the rest of it.

“Uh huh!” You lean forward. “It’s amazing though.” You kiss him. 

“Hmm. Maybe.” He kisses you back, slowly and pointedly adds, “You’re overdressed.” He fiddles with your sleeves. 

You don’t hesitate, leaning back so as not to hit him, you pull up your shirts.  It was meant to be seductive and sexy, but you got stuck toward the end and had to slip your arms out of the mess before wrenching it off and huffing, your hair a mess from the struggle. “That went better in my head.”

Steven bites his lower lip to keep from laughing. “Give me those.” He grabs your shirts, and then disentangles them and folds them with his. 

It's been a while since you’ve been in front of anyone without layers of clothing to protect yourself.  You’re scared to have that much skin exposed and accessible, not to mention the telepathic connection it will enable. So much skin on skin contact, and with Steven being as genuine as he is - it was intimidating. 

To take your mind off it, you reach a hand out to Steven’s chest. “Can I?”

Steven sets the last folded shirt down. “Can you?”

“Don’t be trite.” You roll your eyes. 

Steven smirks, but leans forward. “You may. But I’ll reciprocate, as intensely as before.”

Your hand hovers over his chest, hesitant. Steven gently holds your wrist and guides you to touch his shoulders and slide along to his neck and then down. Skin smooth, except where you pick up on faint scars again. Just like his hands. 

And like with his hands there wasn’t any memory of how he got those nicks and scars. Or none that were notable enough to trigger. His thoughts were focused on your touch. 

Your hands are cold, feels..ngh. Steven flutters his eyes closed. 

Encouraged, you take over and press both of your hands to his chest and run them up to the back of his neck and then into his hair. Fingers scraped and massaged his scalp. 

“So good.” Steven sighs.

“Steven…” you whisper, shifting forward. “Touch me.”

You were expecting his touch and yet still jumped when he pressed his thumbs to your lower back and glided his hands up. He pulls you to him. 

Your stomach twists with anxiety. You still wore your bra but you had enough exposed skin it was going to be overwhelming to get more than just surface thoughts without concentrating. But you wanted to. With Steven. 

When you’re flush you exhale a moan and close your eyes as his thoughts fill you. There was so much arousal but doubt and nervous energy. Want to but I don’t know if I can last. Want to make sure you come first but have to calm down, you’re so intoxicating. Just looking at you, breathing you, touching you. Oh your kisses are. I’m so close. 

“T-trousers…off now.” You mewl against his neck. 

“Right.” Steven gulps, but doesn’t move to do so. Instead his hands had stopped at your bra. His brows furrowed. 

“Clasp’s in the front, luv.” You murmur. He freezes and surreptitiously reaches between to undo. 

“Bloody bras, never consistent.” He mutters. 

You release a breath of relief as the girls were freed. Though the weight of gravity was a different kind of strain, but much better than the bra. Steven slips the straps down your arms and you’re surprised when he doesn’t fold it like everything else but chucks it at the pile of folded shirts

“Trousers next?” 

“Right…yeah…” he trails off and then swallows. “It’s just…” 

“What is it?” You lean back. There’s a moment where his eyes are drawn to your chest but they go back to your eyes. 

“I’m kind of” Steven starts and fumbles. “I’ve never…been with a woman before.” Here we go. 

“But you…” you squint at him. “You’re so good at…everything you’ve done.”

“Sorta the problem, innit.” Steven sighs and hunches his shoulders in on himself. 

“So how did you learn how to be so intuitive, so…thorough?”

Don’t mention the romance books. Steven’s eyes flicked in a direction directly behind you on the bookshelf headboard. “I’ve been with women. But I’ve not been with women, you understand?” I’m going to have to say it.

“I’m going to need more than that.” You ask. 

“It’s like, there’s a party and we’ve been invited, yeah. But then in the first ten minutes I do everything without even getting past the foyer. I don’t want you to…be disappointed.”

“Ah.” You smile. “So, the women you’ve ‘been’ with saw you come early and then just what…left?”

Steven grimaces. 

“Oh no…you left?” You cover your mouth in second hand embarrassment. 

“Bit of both.” First time was me. Second was her.  “Sorry, I can understand if you want to leave-“

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not going to leave you or this bed just because of that.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” You lick your lips. “No, instead I’m going to reassure you that even if you do….arrive a bit early to the destination. The journey is still very enjoyable, even if one party never arrives or if you even take two journeys.” Though it won’t ever be an issue for you. You know that if Steven arrives you will surely follow every time. The joys of your abilities. 

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No. But if you don’t believe me, let me show you.” You scoot backwards, wiggling out of your trousers and pants. 

Steven is frozen. His gaze raking up your legs to the apex between your thighs, over your chest and to your eyes. Movement yanks it away.  You cup one breast and then run your hands your abdomen to between your legs. You know what you like but this was for show, for Steven to watch. You maintain eye contact as you work yourself. You’d been tittering on the edge of it thanks to Steven so it doesn’t take you long until your leg quivers and you have to screw your eyes closed. 

The bed shifts and Steven has removed his trousers too, leaving them haphazardly hanging over the edge with yours. 

“That was so fast…” he whispers in awe. “But you know exactly what you like.”

You’re panting and nodding. “And now, you don’t need to worry about getting there before me.” You rasp. “So…”

“So?”

You hold up an open rubber. “Put one on, sir.”

Steven growls and obeys. Once he nestles between your thighs again, he pushes inside and your sight warbles as he breathes relief. He moans your name and chokes as his back tenses. 

When he moves, it’s slow at first and he breathes into your neck. His chest pressed to yours. 

Your hips meet his shallow thrusts, legs hiked up around his waist encouraging him. You have no thoughts, your mind is empty and is just pure feeling. Yours and his. 

Your vision goes white at the edges, lightning dancing further in. “Steven.” You moan. 

“Yes?” He stops. 

“Don’t- don’t stop please- I’m…”

“Already?!” Steven gasps, surprised. He moves a little faster, hesitantly but then you grip his shoulders and clench your thighs tightly. 

“Oh heavens don’t do that…” he rasps. “You’re- how are you doing that?!” He groans and kisses you, stopping his movements. 

You whine and buck up to his hips, yet enjoying his tongue raking against yours. He pulls away with a shudder and is thrown off guard when you roll him to the side. 

You ride him, quickly and with purpose. He becomes a stuttering mess under you as you roll your hips and push down. 

“Oh- I’m-“

“I know, just- Steven!” The scream is ripped from you. 

He’s exploding with a groan and throwing his head back against his pillows. But you, you’re a mess on top of him, riding not just your orgasm but his. Your back is arched, mouth open wide in a silent scream with your chest heaving. 

You’re not sure how much time passes as psychically you’re reeling. For a moment you’re floating, higher and higher - too high. And then you’re not in your body anymore.

You open your eyes and Steven is frozen in time under you in the midst of his orgasm. And you are floating above your body as it is falling forward. 

“Well…this is new.” You blink at your astral form. There’s an unfamiliar silvery quality to it now. It’s made more evident when the astral plane becomes flooded with moonlight. 

I hope you enjoyed yourself. 

You look toward the bird-skulled presence where it was crouched by the window. Had it been watching you and Steven? Voyeur!

“Did you?” You ask it with a snarky scowl. 

Its skull lifted and tilted with what you guessed was menacing intent. Return to your worm. It made a gesture as if dismissing you. 

“With pleasure-” you want to snark back but it comes stumbling out of your mouth in a moan as you’re back in your body and waking up on Steven’s chest. You look up bleary eyed and heavy. 

“You alright?” He’s panting, brushing your hair back and kissing the top of your head. “I never imagined,” he kisses your forehead, “I could- or that it could actually,” and kisses your nose. “Happen at the same time. That was…”

“Amazing.” You’re breathless. Your hormones are flooded with desire and your release but fear is working its way in from what you encountered. You’ve never orgasmed into the astral plane before. What was different? Why the heck was the bird skulled creature watching?! And how the bloody hell did it just push you out of the astral plane again?

“Yeah. And you…luv. You were…” Steven’s gaze is filled with reverence. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?!” You laugh, putting aside your questions for now and enjoying the afterglow. “You’re welcome, Steven.” You intended to push off his chest to get up, but his inner thoughts stopped you. 

Stay here. Just want to hold you. Please don’t go yet. 

“Steven…” you blow a stray lock of hair out of your face. “Can we cuddle?”

“Yes.” He answers too quickly and sheepishly smiles. 

“Softie.” You tease. “Good thing I love softies.” You sigh and lay back down. 

Love. Love?!  His thoughts swirl on the word, brimming with elation, it’s hard to think - feel anything else.  But for the first time in a long time, you don’t mind. 

[cloveroctobers]

NOAH SAMPATH —

IG info/bio: @/noahknowspat | 275k followers | “A True Renaissance-Man.” | (currently his page is on private, which he often does several months out of the year

25 (26) years of age

Born & raised in Kandy, Sri Lanka until his mother decided to uproot him & his sibs to the uk leaving his father behind

Both of his parents are from Nuwara Eliya

His parents decided it would be best for just his wife & children to live elsewhere while he continued his work in hotel & tourism

Which to him, is the best job he’s ever had—in a sense it felt like he loved his job a little more than his family but Noah knew that wasn’t completely true

Noah figured there was something secretly going on between his parents, he noticed how they would argue more over the years & how his father was fond of their homeland while his mother was not

She did not have much family left, most either leaving the country or dying from sickness

He’s used to living in a bungalow since that’s what he grew up in

Moved to Romford which didn’t take long for him to get adjusted to, he was quick to adapt to situations since that’s normally expected of him as the eldest...

Lived with an aunt? Who really wasn’t a aunt in a cramped 2 bedroom apartment with a child of her own (who was around Noah’s age and favored Richa Moorjani) for a couple of years

Has two younger sibs: a 17 year old brother, and a 11 year old sister

His mother was m*rdered just before his 18th birthday, therefore he’s grown not to celebrate his birthdays even tho he knows deep down that’s not how his mother would have wanted him to go on

She was wise and often stayed up with the moon having conversations with her eldest—if not with all her children

but as he looked back on their conversations he could tell that his mother knew she wouldn’t be on this earth for long

Which showed him a different way of living

His father hated Romford, didn’t think it was the best/ safest place ( I did some research and mostly saw that this town is kinda rough. Anybody from the uk reading & have experience with the town please confirm? Not attending to offend anyone plus every place has its rough areas) for his family & felt his point was proven once his wife was k*lled

He demanded for his children to come back home but Noah wasn’t having it once he realized his father had changed & became aggressive himself

He hated confrontation but he was of age now so he could do what he wanted but there was no bloody way his sibs were going back with this man

He was not the man they all once knew—shit, his sibs BARELY knew him

So Noah fought a lengthy battle with guardianship over his siblings

It only became easy once money was involved for the man to back off

It was v difficult to manage a household and two children at 18-19 all on his own but he was willing to do it, he felt like it was part of his purpose

Plus his “auntie” & “cousin” came around quite often which helped somewhat & even tho the woman was gritty in how she carried herself, anyone could see she cared for Noah’s mother & her children otherwise she wouldn’t have been around before & after his mother’s death

She became like a second mum but no one would ever replace his mother

It was tough going through his early twenties...he had became a parent figure instead of going to uni to study archaeology

He loved fossils & dinosaurs as a kid 

probably keeps up to date with any articles or shows that share their findings on prehistoric species in water or land (I find that shit so creepy yet interesting until I get too creeped out and leave lmao? especially dealing with the ocean!)

Enjoyed that American show called “siren”

He didn’t enjoy much of what usual twenty-something year olds would, he had to be home to take care of his siblings they became a major part of his life now

He is the type to bottle up his feelings. Ofc he jumped at the chance to raise his sibs without a question after seeing the state of his dad a week after his mum’s funeral but he knew he HAD feelings

He wasn’t a robot just because he tends to be quiet & observant

He had his low days too

But he would hide them in books, that was his safe haven, his escape

He loved working as a librarian even if he got shitted on for it

It never payed much even in his position but it brought him comfort that there were aisles of novels ready to tell him stories & found some relation to his own life

As if that wasn’t enough, he loved going to book shops as well. If he had enough $ leftover he would treat himself in a new book purchase

Will buy a new book even if he has piles of unread ones, which he does have a section of that in his room & in the corner of the living room

Has a kindle since it was the cheapest & can easily slip it into a bag if he can’t decide on what book to bring with him

Has glasses but prefers contacts, ‘i don’t want someone to think I’m that nerdy since I read out in public.’ He often thinks to himself—yet when he’s immerse in those pages the world goes silent around him

Collects vinyl toy figures and keeps them either on his mantle or built in shelves in his room

Loves coconut water & won’t drink any water unless it’s coconut

Got his gorgeous cheekbones from his dad

His father p*ssed during his 23rd year of life due to tsunami hitting the hotel he worked in

He took his sibs to their native land once it was safe and connected with their father’s side, which was bittersweet

I think I get Scorpio energy from noah? Idk but it’s in there somewhere

He likes cutting his food into smaller pieces no matter what it is, it’s just a habit since he did so for his younger sibs

Secretly it’s also easier for him since he feels like the dentist ruined one of his nerves once he got his wisdom teeth out

He hates the dentist

His baby sis is deaf & he absolutely took the time to learn sign language along with his brother

Chose buying her hearing aids over paying a monthly bill when $ got tight

His 17 year old brother now works a job & helps out the best way he can even if it took a bit of persuading from their cousin

They’re all extremely close and are aware what Noah’s done and continues to do for them

Probably enjoys painting even if he’s not the greatest at it, but there’s something about water color that is pleasing to his eyes

He’s had many jobs to keep food on the table and support his family but being a custodian paid him the most yet he couldn’t continue working overtime not when his sibs were as young as they once were. He had to let the job go, the money was great, his co-workers sucked since they never came to work leaving him with OT, but it was also a lot of gross work & the teenage girls were always hitting on him

Prone to taking on more than he can chew whether it’s in relationships or life situations

Has either one or two best friends outside of the villa & they’ve been tight since junior year

They didn’t approve of Noah stepping forward to take care of his sibs, knowing it would be a big responsibility & possibly put his life on hold

But they didn’t understand & came around to once they saw him in action & became supportive/proud

He knows they mean well?

Cannot dance

Owns a couple of blazers that he feels the most comfy in

Loves a good pin-striped dress shirt

Has soft thin wavy hair

Will sport a 5’oclock shadow if he’s stressed out, tired, or wants to show a more “mature” side of himself

Misses his mum’s Lamprais & kottu roti

He’s 5’11

Had 1-2 gfs before the villa & both of them were super lengthy relationships which there’s obviously nothing wrong with

Always trying to make it work even if there are signs of it failing

Is not the dominant one in relationships & usually wants to keep the peace—which falls back on him taking everything on his plate & bottling them up instead of addressing situations from the jump

Is observant but also likes to assume?

Tries to be honest & loyal

Once he’s in a relationship & it’s confirmed from the other, he is completely devoted & smitten

I think quality time is his love language

I also think he tried to play the violin growing up since he found that to be one of the instruments that holds so much passion

Likes period pieces minsus the racism :)

Has read Frankenstein countless of times over Shakespeare, he’s got good work, yeah? but it’s a bit overrated

Keeps in touch with rahim & feels he understands him on a level his mates of years do not

They go holiday together when Noah feels he can afford it, even if rahim says he can pay for it. It’s not a big deal

Yet it is. He feels insecure when someone feels like he can’t do something because of where he’s from & what he does for a living. It showed more in his relationship with hope

Sure she was constantly paying for things but when he silently took the initiative to do so it was automatically assume that he didn’t have it even with his wallet out to pay

There were plenty of flaws in his relationship with hope and it took forever for him to see the toxicity in it even if fans adored them together

I’ve decided that they won’t be endgame. Which breaks everyone’s hearts after he’s the one to surprisingly call it quits after 3 years. He thought it would get better once he realized they way the acted towards each other was not completely heathly but it got worse

So he did what he had to do with what was in the best interest of everyone & hope did not agree

It was heated, it was emotional, and there was a last moment of intimacy to seal the deal of their goodbyes

Then came the drama online, with interviews and people trying to bring Priya into the mix & Hope was always vocal so it became a bigger issue

Noah just wanted to heal on his own but he was never going to engage in the drama. If they were all back in the villa face to face he might have said something but he didn’t need his words twisted so he rose above it and knew the two would eventually along with the fans

To get over the breakup? He hung out a little later with his mates at CLUBS, visited rahim, spent more time with his sibs, read, and...reached out to...BLAKE

After almost two years with whoever (in my case it was henrik) she was freshly single herself & not really looking but knew Noah was trying to get underneath someone. A rebound? Since he couldn’t bring himself to do so with the girls around home

Blake knew what happened with hope. She along with mc & some fans saw it coming. She thought about it, really thought about it but decided that she wouldn’t be Noah’s rebound. She knew Noah just needed time and when he was ready, maybe she’d be around

Celeb crush: Gillian Anderson, Antonia Thomas, Tika Sumpter, Aja-Naomi King, Normani Kordei, & Sophie Turner

Who does Noah listen to? Hozier maybe? KWABS, Grace Carter, Seinabo Sey, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, Half Moon Run, Aisha Badru, Lianne La Havas, Dana Williams, Allan Rayman, Rationale, etc...

Anthem = Sid Sriram, “It isn’t true”

[firewoodfigs]

it’s Saturday (finally)! here’s my shoddy attempt at consistency and journaling, and a quick summary of my disorganised thoughts 💃 no, I’m lying. I read through it and it’s not all that quick because my tendency for verbosity knows no bounds

This week was a lot more hectic than the past two. I spent Monday to Wednesday doing research and compiling them together into a knowhow, but Thursday and Friday were the worst because I suddenly got swamped with emails. Both days I had to work till / beyond midnight, and I still have about 200 more pages of corporate documents to proofread... I wanna scream just thinking about it LOL. I’m grateful to have a job during an economic climate like this, but sometimes it feels like everything is addled with so much uncertainty that I just can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing with my life :’) 

I haven’t been using the computer as much, because a significant portion of my 24 hours is dedicated to using it, albeit for other less interesting purposes (also because my eyes are dying at the end of the day). And as a result, the rate at which I reply to messages and stuff have been slowing exponentially (I’m so, so sorry about this!!) but I’ll get to them soon <3 Just an update that your friendly chaotic online persona is still alive LMAO 

My creativity feels incredibly stifled this week. I haven’t been able to write anything without second-guessing myself, or without being overcome by lethargy or restlessness or self-doubt, or a regrettable mixture of all 3. :’) Hopefully the weekend will be a good time to recharge. I’m not planning to touch any work this weekend since it’s not as urgent as the other matters were, but this might mean that I have to work till midnight again on Monday and Tuesday LOL. But it’s fine. Priorities, ykwim!! (Weekends are a luxury and I’m not going to waste it like this LOL) 

Date nights on Thursdays are so much better than date nights on Fridays, although it does tend to make us both feel like the weekend is already here 😆 I mean, the fact that it’s so much less crowded is already a big plus to me. I know people call me out all the time for being a paranoid hen and whatnot, but I just freak out when people come too close to me in public in a blatant disregard of the concept of social distancing (one of my biggest pet peeves is also when people remove their masks to sneeze or cough in the open, which happens a lot here. I mean, you might as well not wear a mask, or you might as well just stay... at... home...). Also a lot of restaurants mark up prices on Friday nights and we got to escape that >:) 

I’m very thankful I got to squeeze in some time to spend with my bf and a couple of friends despite the sheer busyness of everyone’s week. The transition feels so surreal, and I know it’s been a lot harsher on some of my other friends too, than it has been for me. I’m glad that we at least have each other to vent to and struggle with, just like we did back in law school. Easier to struggle together than alone. :’)

On a related note, some thoughts I had about love and understanding last night - I think it’s easy to find love, if we just look hard enough and put aside the premium that society places on romantic love. Love comes in so many different forms - a simple gesture like a short text, an exchange of memes, an invitation to check out a new cafe together; from so many different sources - whether intrinsic or extrinsic, whether platonic or familial. But being understood has always felt like a privilege to me. A lot of times people just tend to think that I’m too “unexpectedly” deep or emotional or sensitive or intelligent, that I have a “surprising” amount of problems for someone who always seems so bubbly, or that I’m just downright eccentric (the last one is completely valid though LMAO). But I’m just so, so grateful to have people in my life who can understand me on an emotional, psychological and intellectual level, and that I don’t have to explain or justify myself for feeling a certain way because they just get it. It’s... validating. Different, in a good way. It’s so important to me because I truthfully don’t talk about my feelings a lot, although I’m trying to now because constant suppression is just a set-up for an inevitable explosion. :’) 

I got my pay check, and!!! The first thing I did was to set up a separate savings account and deposit a decent portion of my salary there so that I won’t touch it for the rest of the month (hopefully) :’) I also got to pay off a small bit of my current outstanding debts, which is great. I'm really looking forward to the day I finally clear all my liabilities. But yes, I think my 19-year-old self would’ve been very proud of myself for not spending it recklessly hahaha. I used to have terrible, and I mean really terrible, fiscal management skills. Like, when I was in first year and second year I was tutoring a ton of people, but somehow my funds were just always depleting uncontrollably. It only dawned upon me much later that I was not conscious or cautious when it came to my spending habits (s/o to my bf and friends for explaining this to me and for teaching me how to manage my finances!!! ilyall), and that I really didn’t have a habit of saving for rainy days or for the future, in general. I watched this documentary about how people from less privileged socioeconomic backgrounds tend to fall into this trap of ‘tunnel vision’, sans wanting to splurge on everything while they can because they never had the chance to do so in the past, or because they’re afraid that they won’t be able to do so in the future once the money’s gone. Being poor is also expensive because it means you might miss out on deals e.g. if buying 2 items is $2x-y, vs buying 1 which is $x, you might be more inclined to buy just 1 instead because it’s all you can afford at the moment. It definitely struck me hard, because I think when I first got all that money I didn’t think of saving it. I just wanted to buy a ridiculous amount of stuff (and real trashy stuff, because I used to think that quantity > quality especially when it came to clothes) and ~ treat myself ~ for roughing it out in law school, but hey, there are other ways to treat oneself apart from excessive splurging :^) 

My biggest treats this week were the arrival of my books (I ordered The Queen’s Gambit and Grapes of Wrath and I might just disappear from the face of this planet lmao), getting to spend quality time with my loved ones and getting to catch the sunset on my evening strolls! I’m gonna end this long ramble with a few pics of them ✨ stay safe and take care, everyone, and have a wonderful weekend!!! *hugs* 

[popculturebuffet]

Donald Duck: Christmas on Bear Mountain Review!

Happy Birthday Uncle Scrooge! Yes it was 73 years ago that everyone’s favorite stingy adventurous billionaire entered this world. And I only NARROWLY missed it as I only found out this was coming up when looking up various character birthdays during the writing of my review of “The Three Cablleros”. I now have a word document with all the various important duck characters birthdays so this doesn’t happen again, but i’m glad I did my homework as I can celebrate one of my faviorite character’s birthdays.  And Scrooge is one of my favorites. While I relate to donald’s everyman slacker spendthrift was a tad more, I still love this old bastard. He’s badass, quick witted, and earned every bit of his fortune square outside of one moment of weakness. But he has his flaws: He’s horribly cheap, quick to anger, and very dismissive and distrustful of people for good reasons and bad. He’s a complicated, interesting character and one that still works today in the reboot.. if with some slight tweaks to make him less of a greedy monster by modern standards. He’s one of my favorite comic book characters, and one of Disney’s finest, so it only felt right to honor him by going back to his roots with his very first appearance and a story that like him is 73 years old today. It’s also one I had never read until today’s review. So does this storied tale still hold up? How diffrent was Scrooge? and are there any actual bears in the story? Well come along with me as we take a trip up to Bear Mountain and find out.  This story, if you didn’t know, is by Disney Legend and Scrooge Creator Carl Barks, easily the most influential and well known duck artist.. felt like it was worth mentioning since without Carl none of this would be possible and as usual his art is gorgeous and unique to him. On with the show. 

We open with Donald and the Boys depressed, as Christmas looks to be pretty drab. While the boys are sad they don’t have a winter Cabin like everyone else...

Donald is even more bummed he can’t afford dinner or presents as he mentions this to the boys, being flat broke. It’s also a nice character beat that Donald, despite his usual hedonism.. would be just fine, with his depression coming from the fact he can’t even give his boys a proper Christmas let alone presents. It’s a stark adult fear and something that really hits as I find the money to buy Christmas presents for all my friends and family during my current unemployment, though commissions, have been helping. 

But yes i’m doing my first Christmas review before thanksgiving’s even come in. But given the serendipity of Scrooge’s birthday and the fact I wanted to read it at some point before covering the last chapter of life and times anyway, since said story takes place DURING this one. I’ll explain how in a moment. Plus frankly with me already having to do my christmas shopping while I have money, I still feel the spirit of the holiday, so I honestly figure why not. 

But all that aside, the Nephews muse things might be better if their rich Uncle Scrooge would remember them, but probably not. We’ll meet scrooge, if you care to continue, after the cut. 

We then cut to Scrooge’s mansion. Two things to note. The first is that he has a mansion here. Now for us Ducktales fans, it’s not unusual, he lives in one in both series. But being even MORE frugal in the comics meant after this he mostly lived in the money bin to save .. well money. So he dosen’t have the mansion after this and Don Rosa explained it, as he did really most aspects of scrooge’s life, in life and times, having him decide to sell the place after also deciding to reopen the bin. Just a neat fun fact. The other fun fact is that his angry pose and expersion here were later homage in “Last Crash of the Sunchaser!”, in one of Ducktales 2017′s easily most heart pulling moments: the ending of the episode showing Scrooge truly alone once again. It’s also a nice refrence to Life and Times as at this point scrooge was just as miserable and alone according to Rosa’s masterwork, with the boys and Donald coming into his life being the thing that revitalized him. So let’s get on that shall we?  Scrooge is wallowing in his misery, having never had any fun according to himself and thinking maybe giving a present could be fun.. and decides on his Nephew as the one to give it to. But in typical Scrooge fashion instead of just giving his Grandson a gift, he’s going to have to earn it. He sends a letter to the Boys and Donald offering up his cabin, fully stocked with goodies and presents. A bit pricey for who Scrooge would become, and a bit odd to see him not complain.. but it still sets up his character as someone who wants people to WORK for what they get, but can genuinely get behind someone who shows good character, in this case he’s hoping, but Doubting, Donald will end up showing himself to be brave. And it’s STILL more plausible he’d buy luxury items to prove a point to himself, than it was in that one Ducktales comic I reviewed where he spent presumably millions to teach a ten year old a lesson about getting everything you want. Which yes really happened. 

Still not over that one, what the actual hell, let’s move on. Basically if Donald passes the test, he’ll get a real true present and if he doesn’t, well Scrooge will have fun anyway. It is easy to see the difference in character here: While parts that would later become bedrock, his code of honor and his wanting people to EARN things instead of just having them handed to them, as well as him sometimes being a huge dick about that are there, he comes off more as a golden age villain cackling in his lair than the awesome but flawed adventurer we’d all come to know and love. I mean while he’d be no less kind to the Boys and Donald about their poverty later, this time he’s especailly bad tempting them with a nice christmas they couldn’t afford and planning to scare the bejeezus out of them. But I do like seeeing where Scrooge came from, STARTING as a decrepit old bastard and transitioning into the adventurous old bastard we all know and love. I have come to realize I do have a soft spot for characters earlier appearances, seeing what changed, what was there all along, and what was tweaked. It can be a mixed bag: with Marvel for instance sometimes you get Spider-Man, who was starkly anti-social and on the verge of understandably lashing out at the world a LOT in the first few issues, and prone to issues you wouldn’t see in a superhero comic back then. Hulk started out much smarter, greyer and meaner, eventually leading to the Joe Fixit persona being created as a result of this decades later. 

On the other hand some examples are less enjoyable like Sue and Reed Richards, who back at the start were a sexist “panicky female” stereotype and a sexist mentally distant jackass, while Hank Pym and Wasp were again, a sexist mentally distant jackass, and another stereotype this time thinking almost entirely about fashion and boys. All four would go on to be MUCH better characters with age, with the occasional slip up. I bring this up because Scrooge... is still a good character even here. While he’d become even BETTER, he’s not bad at all here, just a bit different is all. 

Back at the plot Scrooge reveals his plan by scaring the shit out of his butler: To dress up as a bear, head up the mountain and scare his nephews to see if any of them have any bravery. While Donald whimpers over the thought of bears and we get an okay gag of him thinking a squireel was one, Scrooge is forced to turn around due to the weather and gives a villain monologue about never having given anyone nothing in his entire life. I swear to god he’s basically Mr. Burns in this one. 

Then again I would also FULLY expect Scrooge to do this to Donald in the barks stories, just maybe not have it be lethal. MAYBE. 

While Scrooge harumphs over his bad luck the boys and Donald enjoy a wonderful sleep. Despite Donald’s fear of bears, which the boys insist are hibernating, accurate, the boys force him to go out and get a Christmas tree by the age old tradition of whining until he does so. After going out back to find a tree to chop down Donald finds dead, ugly looking tree that’s weirdly heavy. To no one’s suprise, and to Donald’s natural luck, there’s a baby bear inside and as Donald gets a nice Christmas eve dinner ready for the boys, though after hearing some rustling he assumes a bear is present.. which it is. A baby bear. Awww. The little guy toddles around, and we get af ew pages of antics, with the boys chasing the bear, donald being a coward, and the bear getting into things and ending up on a rollerskate, which is referenced in life and times. However while the boys eventually find the baby.. it’s MOTHER, angry it’s cub is missing finds them and once Donald finds her, the four naturally hightale it out of there. The bears then eat all their food.. though the boys assume “there goes our presents”. Uh guys.. the presents aren’t gone you just don’t have them right this second. They aren’t showed destroying them or anything just leaning on them slightly. I mean the well stocked pantry and any candy in the presents are toast but there’s still a pretty sweet saxaphone there. Take a look. 

See the most their doing is likely wrinkling some clothes, at worst flattening that skateboard.. or whatever that  Mama Bear is sitting on. I mean I get in the larger sense they can’t get them because bears, but still. Once they pass out the boys send in Donald to get ripped apart by a bear.. er to tie up Mama Bear so they can get the house back, rightly pointing out that they’ll freeze to death anyways.. even though they you know have a car and could just leave. Then again knowing Donald’s luck i’td probably jsut lead to this. 

The boys aren’t slacking though and are going after the cub while Donald passes out in fear next to the bear. Scrooge arrives, but is spooked by the cub and is proud to see his young nephews valiantly chase the bebe, and is impressed by Donald’s seeming bravery, decides, after fleeing in terror which is funny. Not in line with what he’d become but STILL really funny. But anyways he decides to throw them a proper christmas as a reward.  So the next day and, thanks to Don Rosa one part of life and times later, we end on Christmas Day as for the first time in decades, Scrooge basks in the warm glow of family, and is happy probably for the first time in years. He gifts Donald a bear skin, he faints, haw haw haw the end. 

FINAL THOUGHTS: This story holds up extrodinarly well. While some aspects like Scrooge being generous or cowardly don’t jibe with his later character, it’s forgivable since, again, first appearance, and it’s an entertaining story. Granted his plan hasn’t aged well, but it’s still a fun Christmas set story with some good gags and an entertaining villian. While not Scrooge or Donald or Barks finest hour, it’s still a good bit of hollday fun that gave us one of the best characters of all time. And for that, ill be forever greatful.  If you liked this review, you can comission one of your own via my ask box, direct message or discord (technicolormuk#6550), if your more comfortable not doing buisness on here. UPCOMING REVIEWS TO KEEP AN EYE ON THIS SPACE FOR Loud House Coverage: Band Together/ The Other One Ducktales: The First Adventure! Ride of the Three Cablleros: The Three Cablleros Ride Again! 

Until then you can check my backlog on my various pages and remember, there’s always another rainbow. 

[searchingwardrobes]

Self Promo Sunday

I have honestly really enjoyed going back to my older fics and making picsets for them to post here on tumblr. This one is a cute little one shot that came to me because I did a brief stint in direct sales and was HORRIBLE at it! (I sold - or tried to sell - scrapbooking supplies). I know Killian is good at charming his way out of trouble and using his charm to steal things, but I imagined that being a salesman wouldn’t be as easy for him. You see, I was horrible at sales because I don’t like talking people into buying something when they clearly don’t want to. Killian Jones is very passionate about choice and free will, so I imagined the following story!

Words: 2k and some change

Rating: G for silly, sweet fluff

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Emma Swan really hopes Killian Jones has a second job. Because she’s never seen a worse salesman. The first time he comes into the diner, the last thing she would have pegged him as is a salesman. All mussed hair and black leather with piercings and a tattoo. The heavy black vinyl bag leaning against the booth next to him that says Buy the Book: Direct Sales is out of place.

He’s so bad at it that it takes him forever that first day to give her his sales pitch. Until his second cup of coffee, to be exact. That’s when he hems and haws as he gives her his business card. She stares at it, wondering how she can politely decline as he scratches behind his ear and slides a glossy catalogue across the table. She normally wouldn’t have any qualms at turning down either a sales pitch or a pick up line with a gruff not interested, but he’s so adorably nervous. He starts pulling sample inventory out of his bag, and that’s when she’s in trouble because Henry sniffs out the books like a bloodhound. Her son hops from his stool at the counter where he’s been doing his homework, and eagerly starts looking through the books.

“Look at this one, mom!” Henry exclaims, holding up a pirate sticker and activity book. “It’s not for babies. It’s got cool facts about the history of real pirates.”

Yes. Emma Swan’s son is not your typical ten year old. He’s both a bookworm and a history nut. And she loves him for it. Which is why she buys it. Not because salesman Killian Jones has killer blue eyes.

She pulls a twenty from her apron pocket, hands it to him (because there’s no way she’s giving a guy she just met her credit card information), and tries not to swoon when he smiles. It’s killer, too. She’s his first customer, he tells her, and she can’t help smiling back. He frowns, though, when he realizes he doesn’t have change for a twenty, and then Emma rolls her eyes because, really? It’s just a nickel. He smiles again at that and, well, crap. That smile!

She rolls her eyes later when she sees the ten he left for a tip along with a note telling her she’s “bloody amazing.” The fool went and gave the majority of his profit right back to her. Yeah, he really sucks at this.

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

The second time he comes into the diner, he wisely comes in the afternoon again, ensuring Henry is there doing his homework. But this time, he tries (and fails) to chat up fellow customers to get a few sales. They seem skeptical of a salesman who looks more like a biker/rock star than someone who peddles used cars. Emma almost laughs when the only single woman in the diner’s face instantly falls when Killian Jones produces his business card and a catalogue. Seems his blue eyes and his smile are powerless against a woman scorned. She huffs as she tosses her tip on the table and exits the diner post haste, leaving a clearly baffled Killian behind.

When Emma approaches his table, he smiles half-heartedly and she feels sorry for him. Once again, he doesn’t try to sell her anything until she fills his coffee mug a second time. That’s when he pulls out a book he thinks Henry might like, all about knights and castles of the Middle Ages. Henry eagerly peruses it, and Emma is a sucker once again. She buys it because Henry loves history so much he’s the only ten year old Emma has ever heard of who was pumped about a weekend trip to Gettysburg. It’s not because of the way Killian Jones swipes his tongue over his lower lip when he’s nervous.

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

The next time Killian comes into the diner, Christmas music is playing and a garland of evergreen hangs in loops over the counter. It’s mid-morning, so Henry’s at school. After his second cup of coffee, Killian admits he came when he knew Henry would be at school because he was hoping . . . and then he’s hemming and hawing again, rubbing at his neck and scratching behind his ear. Emma thinks for a split second that he’s trying to ask her out until he pulls his company’s Christmas catalogue out of his bag. She tries to ignore her disappointment when he asks if she’s finished her Christmas shopping yet.

She ends up buying a “Daily Inspirations for Teachers” desk calendar for Mary Margaret and Nicholas Spark’s newest bestseller for David (a guilty pleasure she loves to tease him about). For Granny she gets a book of knitting patterns. Killian pulls out a book he thinks Henry would like: a leather bound book of fairy tales with the title Once Upon a Time embossed in elegant script across the front. Emma knows Henry would love it, but gasps at the price. A forty dollar book is way over her budget, and like the horrible salesman he is, Killian doesn’t push it. She orders two graphic novels for Henry instead, and when she places the order she slides her credit card across the table.

Killian tells her it’s his biggest order to date and smiles so wide Emma is able to confirm her suspicions. There are dimples underneath that scruff. She begins to second guess her assertion that he’s a bad salesman. Because she’s pretty sure he could sell beachfront property in Kansas with those dimples.

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

In January, Emma is alarmed when a dejected Killian Jones enters the diner and slumps in his usual booth, his head in his hands. Emma decides to stop the charade when she approaches his table.

“You don’t have to wait till your second cup of coffee.”

Killian lifts his face to hers and quirks an eyebrow in confusion, “I’m sorry, love?”

“You know,” Emma says, gesturing with her order pad, “selling me books. What do you have for Henry this time?”

Killian sighs and leans back in the booth, “Alas, Swan, I am no longer in the business. I’m pretty much the worst salesman in the world.”

Emma hates that she chuckles, but she can’t help it, “Yeah, you pretty much sucked.” Killian, thankfully, laughs as well. “I’m glad I was your best customer, then. While it lasted.”

Killian winces, “Actually, love, you were my only customer.”

Emma’s jaw drops at that and her sympathy grows exponentially. She never bought that much, really. She glances around for Granny as she slides into the booth across from him. Although, based on Granny’s reaction to the knitting book (Why don’t you kiss the man already instead of buying all his books?), she doesn’t think she’ll mind.

“Are you okay? I mean, you don’t seem like you’re starving and destitute, so I’m assuming you have another job.”

“Several, actually,” Killian says, drumming his fingers on the table. “My brother and I do seasonal work on the Cape with a boat charter we own.”

“Cape Cod?”

“Aye. The Cape is beautiful in the spring and summer, but in the winter it’s downright depressing. So I like to come here to Boston once we winter the boat. The hustle and bustle is a nice change of pace, and I love city life during the holidays. Plus, like your boy, I’m a bit of a history buff. I work seasonally at the bookstore down the street.”

“So why the direct sales?”

Killian sighs, “A foolish notion. The bookstore only hires me through the end of December. I thought with this second job I could stay in the city until spring,” he shrugs. “Turns out convincing a customer in a bookstore to buy J.M. Barrie’s original Peter Pan instead of the abridged illustrated version is a mite different from selling books all on your lonesome.”

Emma’s heart drops at the implication of what he’s saying. “So what will you do now?”

“Slink back to the Cape with my tail between my legs and help my sister in law at the ice cream shop, as usual.”

So he’s leaving Boston. He’s leaving, and Emma is surprised at how much it disappoints her. “An ice cream place on the cape can make it through the winter?” She almost face palms. Can she sound any more desperate to convince him to stay?

Killian doesn’t seem to pick up on any subtext, thank goodness. “Elsa inherited the place from her aunt. She and her sister helped out there since they were kids. They know how to make it through the lean months. Dull as tombs, though. Yet, as they say, spring will come again!”

Emma tries to smile, but she knows it’s half-hearted. Killian reaches into his bag and pulls out the leather bound book of fairy tales she couldn’t afford at Christmas. Emma arches an eyebrow, “Still trying to make a sale?”

“Oh no, Swan, this is a gift. To thank you.”

“Killian, I can’t accept that. You need to sell off your inventory, or you’ll lose everything you invested.”

Killian chuckles sardonically at that, “Too late for that, Swan. Besides, you’re the only one who ever bought anything, and you know it wasn’t for the books. You felt sorry for me.”

Emma’s face flushes, and she wishes she could tell him that wasn’t it. She’s always despised pity and vowed she’d never doll it out. But how can she explain that while still guarding her heart? Instead, she accepts the leather book and hugs it to her chest, mumbling a soft “thank you.” Killian smiles in return and exits the diner without ever ordering a thing. And she hates the finality of his departure and the possibility that there could have been a them, but now she’ll never know.

She looks down at the book in her hands and notices a little rectangle of cardstock poking out of its pages. She pulls it out, expecting it to be Killian’s Buy the Book business card. Instead, it says Jewel of the Realm Charters with the names Liam and Killian Jones and a phone number. Emma’s heart flips in her chest when she sees that Killian has jotted a note on the back.

I owe you and Henry a free day of sailing. – Killian

The fool still knows nothing about making a profit.

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

In February, Emma Swan walks into Any Given Sundae along the shores of Cape Cod. She convinced herself there was nothing stalker-ish about her showing up here, but now that the bell is jingling above the door and the blonde woman behind the counter is smiling at her, she’s having second thoughts. Killian had mentioned his sister-in-law’s name, so it’s not like she had to be a private detective or anything to find the place. Still, who drives all the way from Boston to Cape Cod just to visit an ice cream shop? In February?

“May I help you?” asks the blonde, and Emma fiddles with the end of her scarf. She was kind of hoping Killian would just be there when she walked through the door.

“Um . . . I . . .” and she almost laughs thinking of the way Killian would hem and haw when selling her books. She glances around the store. It’s one of those tiny places that beach goers walk in and out of on hot summer days. There are no tables or chairs anywhere in the place. But in the corner a display table has been set up. A display table of books. Emma walks towards it. “You sell books?”

“Oh,” says the blonde – Elsa, she assumes – with a dismissive wave of her hand, “that’s a failed business venture of my brother-in-law’s. Please buy one. I need to get those out of here before tourist season.”

Emma reaches out and runs her fingers along the edges of the books.

“Swan?”

Emma turns to see Killian standing behind the counter with a large tub of ice cream in each arm. He deposits them quickly into their slots behind the glass then comes around to face her. They stand there staring at each other for a few moments, grinning like a couple of idiots.

“Wh-what are you doing here, Swan?” he stutters, and she swears he sounds more nervous than he did when he was trying to sell books.

“Guess it’s too early for that day of sailing, huh?” she teases with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he teases back, “there’s a foot of snow on the ground, Swan.”

Emma bites her lip and fiddles with her scarf again, “Actually, I came to tell you thank you. For Henry’s book. He loves it.”

Killian raises his eyebrows, “You drove all the way out to Cape Cod to tell me that?”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes Emma blush, and they just stare at each other again like goofballs. She sees Elsa laugh and shake her head out of the corner of her eye, and she thinks that she couldn’t possibly embarrass herself any more than she already has. So with a roll of her eyes and a screw this, she grabs him by the shirt collar and kisses the living daylights out of him.

He dives back in for more when she finally pulls away, and when Elsa tells them, “Easy there, tigers, you’re gonna melt all the ice cream,” they laugh against each others’ lips.

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

Two months later, Henry brings his book along when Killian takes them sailing. He reads parts of it out loud to them when Killian lays anchor, and Emma finds that it’s modern versions of classic fairy tales. Snow White is a bandit with a bow and arrows, Red Riding Hood is a werewolf, and Captain Hook is a hero who falls in love with a princess. And Emma thinks that she really likes this story. A pirate and a princess.

But she likes theirs better.

A salesman and a waitress.

Make that a horrible salesman and a waitress.

[el-pintor]

Thoughts about the Christmas special

This will be a long, long, long post...

First, I write about ZhanYi and then about Tianshan.

ZhanYi:

Jian Yi's comment about his strength:

— Jian Yi mentions that he is so strong that he could pull trees out. This is pretty interesting information. Because this could indicate the time during the kidnapping, depending on how seriously you can interpret the statements. Did he continue to train or drill? Is it the result of training with He Cheng?

- In addition, this drunk talking could also refer to earlier chapters. Jian Yi has a desire to become stronger because he felt helpless against Mo. Incidentally, it is the first appearance of Mo.

The apartment:

— Whose apartment is this? Probably Zhen Xis, since Jian Yi is only at Xi's apartment in the future chapters. In contrast to earlier insights, the apartment is also pretty tidy.

– However, the interior differs massively from the previous chapters. I don't expect Zhen Xi and Jian Yi to be living together at this point. Old Xian just may not have used the previous references.

— So the connection between the two seems to be as strong as ever since Xi possibly brings him home to his flat instead to Jian Yi's.

- And another proof of how much Xi's character has changed. Because in the beginning, he didn't want anything more than kicking out Yi as soon as he showed up.

- He also apparently abandoned the violent nature. Instead of beating him up, he sits down on the couch with him in an embrace and falls asleep. He doesn't even take off his jacket, but lets Jian Yi willingly hug him.

- Somehow cute. Nevertheless, I hope that he will soon no longer keep Jian Yi friendzoned and return his feelings.

- Just as home furnishings have changed, Zheng Xi's character has changed.

— But maybe that's Jian Yi's apartment after all. No one knows about his living condition.

- Does he live alone? Or with his mother? Maybe he's back in He Cheng's care? Does Zheng Xi even know Jian Yi's address?

I hope we can find out more soon.

Tianshan

I think there are a lot of inconsistencies and you don't really get their behavior.

First of all a few trivial comments.

Rings:

- He Tian wears the ring he took himself as a gift. Coincidentally, it also fits like a glove. Either it would be too big for Mo anyway, or you can adjust the ring.

- In the first panel, it seems that Mo is also wearing a ring.

He Tian flirting:

- He Tian goes straight to the attack and leaves no unnecessary time and doubts about his intentions: After flirting, he just takes off his jacket and throws himself and Mo on the bed.

- He is hopelessly in love and love everything about Mo.

- That Mo has a newfound interest on studying turns he even more on.

- I think despite the fact that the room is too small for him, he will develop a secret preference for the bed. Because it's narrow and there is no place to escape and to keep a certain distance. So perfectly made for  cuddling and sticking close together.

The apartment, Room, whatever you can call it:

- I immediately noticed the rule with books (if they were books).

- The guitar on his bed plus other books.

- At first I thought that the "apartment" consists of only one room, but the kitchen and at least the bathroom are missing.

- it's quite empty and reminds of He Tian's empty apartment.

- Still, it's pretty run down and seems so cold. I hope Mo doesn't freeze.

Living condition:

- The question, of course, would be why Mo lives under this condition, although he would have it better in his mother's old apartment.

- Did he want to become independent as quickly as possible and therefore moved out so as not to further burden his mother?

- However, I hardly think that his mother would have been satisfied with the condition of the apartment, because the condition is worrying. I don't think he invites his mother over to his house.

-I don't know if that is standard in China when you don't have money. In addition, 19 is still quite young. Many people still live with their parents at this age.

- Did something happen to the mother? Hopefully not.

But maybe Mo is just rebellious and proud that he could afford something of his own.

Indications of Mos' current activity.

- As I said, I immediately noticed the rule with books (if they were books). Which of course is totally untypical for Mo, since he was never interested in books and learning.

- Are these cook and music books?

- Can someone tell me what's written on this book?

- The book in He Tian's hand has an unusual book form. So I suspect that this is a music book with notes or tabs. It seems to be at least a book for studying.

- So does Mo study anything with music and do his part-time jobs to finance it?

- Does he study anything else?

- Does he go to university at all?

- Or does he really earn his money only with part-time jobs? Obviously he won't make much money with it, so they could only be an interim solution if Mo didn't want to keep this lifestyle for life.

- For the university in China you need a lot of money, which you couldn't pay on your own. But there is the possibility of scholarships (I just assume that there is also something like that in China). Maybe he got a music scholarship?

- Mo doesn't seem to have many things. Of course, the books and the guitar are striking.

The guitar

- At first glance, the guitar is reminiscent of He Tian's guitar, which he would like to give to Mo.

- If you take a closer look, they are identical in shape and color, but they are two completely different guitars.

- He Tian's guitar is an acoustic (or concert) guitar and Mo's is an electric guitar.

- Could it be a little mistake from Old Xian?

- Perhaps this is also a later gift from He Tian after Mo learned to play guitar with the acoustic guitar and get advanced. A lot of people start with an acoustic guitar before playing electric guitar.

- Maybe the guitar is from the same serial production.

- Maybe He Tian owns the acoustic guitar and buys an electric guitar for Mo from the same series after Mo's interest for learning guitar has been completely awakened.

- By the way, you need a guitar amplifier for full fun with an electric guitar. I didn't see it in his room.

- Unless this could be an amp. Does anyone know what this thing could be? For me this could be organizers.

- It's s also extremely inconvenient in an apartment to turn it up fully. (Do more people actually live there? The apartment looks more like an old rehearsal room or a garage. My rehearsal room looked something like this, that's why the associations).

- You can also play the electric guitar on headphones, but that's pretty impractical because of the sound (it differs, if you use headphones ir not) and you still need an amp.

- By the way, music it's a costly pleasure. So, it is all the more interesting what exactly Mo does and how he finances everything.

- But I think those are little things that Old Xian probably doesn't think about (something that you easily can forget) .

- I wonder if Mo is in a band. Maybe with Zhen Xi together.

So now to the most complicated point:

Hey Tian, ​​his disappearance and the relationship with Mo.

- One learns that He Tian was not in China for a while.

Many questions arise from this:

- When was he gone?

- How long was he gone?

- Has he been away for a long period of time or is it a coming and going? A lot of it is pretty unclear, so you could guess both.

- The fact that He Tian was away for a long time speaks for the fact that he has never been to Mo's apartment. Has Mo just recently moved there?

- What is also new for him is that Mo reads books or even studies. You should actually know that if you were in regular contact. So is this a recent Mo hobby? That is rather unlikely. So how much did they really have to do with each other in the 4 years?

— However, there are some arguments against staying longer:

- He Tian knows where Mo works. If He Tian had been away for years, how would he know where Mo works? From Jian Yi or Zahn Xi? Maybe from Mo himself? Mo would most likely not give it away. So He Tian should at least stop by for visits.

- The second thing that speaks against it, is that Mo knows where He Tian lives. He Tian probably didn't change his apartment, but could have been if you weren't in the country for a long period of time. At least that doesn't indicate radio silence.

The relationship with Mo:

- After the chapters and all the hints, it was thought that the penny had finally fallen between the two, but no.

- Their relationship to each other has not really changed.

- Mo is still dismissive to He Tian.

There are several reasons about this matter:

— 1. Mo feels hurt and probably betrayed too.

- He Tian asked Mo in middle school not to abandom him. Now HE was the one who left and left Mo behind. Depending on the point in time at which this occurred, it is logical to first react in a negative manner.

— Nevertheless, He Tian seems to be a part of Mo's life, which he does not really want to give up and maybe also gives evidence that he might misses him.

The following aspect indicate

- He lit a cigarette, reminiscent of He Tian.

- He is still wearing his earrings.

- In addition, the design of his electric guitar is similar to He Tian's.

— 2. Mo couldn't build a closer bond with He Tian because He Tian left the country right after middle school.

- How can you build a relationship if you hardly see or not see each other?

- Mo has problems with trust. So I can imagine, that this could be extremely bitter for him and he is angry. Especially if he had open up to He Tian and then his gone.

— 3. Mo is just too stubborn to admit his feelings and get involved with He Tian and is a tsundere, so he have to act this way.

- Definition of a tsundere: "A tsundere is a character, most often female and in anime, who switches from being tough and cold towards a love interest into being soft and sweet"

- Well, I'm not so keen on these whole tsundere explanations. Of course his character is like a tsundere but it would be to simple to explain his character so one sided.

- Even tsundere characters can make progress and that's what I missing. The reationship between those two is going back and forth mostly two steps back and one forth. It's like they are stuck in this, just like ZhanYi are stuck in their relationship. But in this matter you know that Jian was gone for three years. Still I hoped Zhan Xi would finally admit his feelings, but he rather go with the safety zone. The case of Tianshan is way more complicated: You don't know what happened between them in these years. But He Tian seems to be in love more than ever and Mo seems to that he still hasn't figured out his feelings and doesn’t give the attention that He Tian wants. Mo is 18 or 19, not 15 anymore and I wish he would act more mature. But on the other hand, He Tian is really pushy again and is testing his limits. It's understandable that Mo acts irritated.

- So I think they are still don't there where you can call this a mutual relationship.

- They will eventually in the future, but this will take a lot more time obviously and they have a long road ahead.

Of course there is progress:

- Mo seems to have grown used to He Tian's approach.

- He is less aggressive, can even be touched, and he doesn't immediately panic. In the other special he even voluntarily shares a room with He Tian.

- On the other hand, He Tian seems to have become more courageous, so you thought, they really started out with a physical relationship.

- He gives away condoms, hugs him profusely, and tries to get to his butt (other special).

- Maybe they really did have an on-off thing.

- Old Xian indicated that He Tian was allowed to stay the night. So Mo doesn't throw him out. The only question is whether he is allowed to sleep in bed or whether the floor has to suffice.

- So yeah, for me this is really confusing.

Other abnormalities:

- Where's the dog?

- Did Xi stays true to the music? So far there has not been a hint of a musical instrument at his flat.

- What about Yi? Does he continue to play the guitar?

- And He Tian?

- When and why did Mo get his second piercing?

- He Tian doesn't seem to wear the chain with ring. Maybe he get it later?

[shesclearlya3]

Dancing With a Stranger P.1

@iits-mikha asked: n a recent interview they asked Cody if he could have the opportunity to play another character he would had chosen to be the Countess, So my request is this: an AU where old!Michael where he’s not the antichrist but is the owner of the Hotel Cortez, please!! 

I’m really nervous about this since it’s my first time writing for our boi Michael. I hope I delivered! I decided to make Michael 34 as, I am not too familiar with the Older!tag, but this seemed like a popular range.

pairing: Older!Michael x Reader

word count: 1,973

warnings: au!, language, seductive-boi, there will be a 2nd part!

part 2

October 29th, 2019

You stood next to your best friend, Winter Anderson, as you both stared up at the Hotel Cortez. You two were going to spend the next few days at Halloween Horror Nights, and this was the only hotel you two could afford. Universal was expensive, plus you knew you'd only be here to sleep, that's it.

"Are you ready, you seem kind of nervous," Winter asked, raising a manicured eyebrow at you. You smiled, nodding while tightening your grip on your suitcase.

"I'm fine, we can go inside," you said. You followed Winter into the hotel, gaping at the wonderous exterior. You had never seen so much red in your life. The lobby was huge, and you were slightly taken aback at how empty it was. 

You stopped at the front desk, peering around it. An older, slightly plump woman sat in the chair, a worn-out romance novel in her hands. She was so entranced in the book that she didn't notice your arrival. 

"Excuse me?" Winter piped up.

"OH!" she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. It startled you, but you managed to contain the laugh that bubbled in your throat. "I apologize, I didn't- yeah," she laughed, standing up. "I'm Iris, can I have the name for your reservation?" 

"Anderson. Winter Anderson," 

Iris flipped open a folder, running a finger down the names before stopping. "There you are," she whispered. You frowned, wondering why they didn't just use computers like other hotels did. Iris reached behind her, grabbing a key from the shelf behind her. She handed it to you.

"Let me show you to your room," she said, smiling. You liked to see the good in people, but there was something off about the look in her eyes. Winter seemed to have gotten the same vibe because she kept pace with you instead. 

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was claustrophobic. You tugged at the neck of your shirt, praying for the moment you and Winter were alone. Maybe you'd spend the night out instead of catching up on sleep, you had to be up early for your flight here from Michigan. 

The doors slowly opened, before Iris led you down just a few doors. "Room 537," she said, before unlocking the door. She gestured for you guys to go first, and you smiled and thanked her.

The room was nothing too special, but you get what you paid for. Since you and Winter wanted to stretch your money as much as possible, you settled on sharing a bed. Winter set her stuff down, as Iris mentioned some of the things the hotel offered, including a bar downstairs.

"What brings you two lovely ladies to Los Angeles?" Iris asked kindly, and you felt your nerves from earlier slowly disapparate. 

"We're going to Universal Studios, we're ready to get our asses scared, right, y/n?" Winter looked at you eagerly. 

"Of course! Have you been there, by chance?" you asked Iris. 

"Oh, years ago, I took my son Donovan," Iris exclaimed, seeming to be truly happy for the short length of time you knew her. "I'm sure lots have changed since then..." 

Awkward silence.

"Well, I must get back to the front desk. If there's anything you two need, give us a call," Iris said, already turning towards the door. She set your room keys on the table, then she was gone. 

You and Winter spent the next hour organizing your stuff. You usually left your things in your suitcase while staying in a hotel, but since you'd be here until November 2nd, you didn't want your clothes to be wrinkled. 

"I think we should go down and get a drink, those seats on the plane were not comfortable," Winter complained as you organized your toiletries. 

You glanced at your phone, seeing it wasn't too late. You and Winter planned on getting to the park first thing in the morning. "Who is buying? NOSE-"

"-GOES!" Winter said, whirling at you with a finger to her nose. You squinted at her before you spent the next few minutes trying to touch your nose before Winter. 

Finally, you humored her and said you'd pay for drinks the first night. 

Since you both had dressed comfortably for the flight, you changed into more acceptable clothes. Your favorite jeans and an off-shoulder top. Winter tied her blonde hair up into a half-down, half-up bun, and you set on your way. 

There was only one other patron at the bar, and he didn't seem to pay you much attention. At least at first. 

A tall woman with a shaved head and makeup talked to him, her eyes lightening up at everything he said. You and Winter took the seats farthest away, not wanting to seem like you were eavesdropping. 

"Hilarious, Tristan," she gently scolded. "Hang on, my services are needed elsewhere," she laughed another time before approaching the two of you. "And who do we have here?"

"My name is Winter, and this is y/n," Winter said proudly. 

"Welcome to the Cortez, I'm Liz. Liz Taylor," she offered her hand to the both of you, and you shook it with a smile. "Now, you seem to be old enough to drink, but I need to see your ID's. I am a woman of responsibility-"

The guy named Tristan laughed aloud at the end of the table.

"Ignore him, he drinks," Liz smiled as you and Winter laid your ID's out. "Perfect, what can I get for you?" 

The last thing you wanted was to wake up with a hangover, so you kept it simple. Winter didn't have the same concern since she ordered a Screwdriver. 

Liz was very enjoyable to talk too, and eventually, Tristan felt left out. He sat at the stool next to him, and you found out they had been dating a few months now. They were totally in love, and it showed whenever they looked at each other.

"I wish somebody loved me like that," Winter sighed.

"You will find someone, love. The both of you will." Liz smiled. 

The energy in the room suddenly changed. 

Everyone else kept talking and laughing, but you could feel it. You knew it wasn't the alcohol, this drink was more juice than anything. The sound of the elevator beeping, and the doors sliding open finally piqued their interest.

"Oh boy," Liz said flatly. Tristan chugged the rest of his whiskey before looking at you. You smiled briefly, wondering why they both seemed so on edge. 

You and Winter seemed to be in a trance as a man slowly stepped out, his lean figure in perfect posture. He kept his hands behind his back, and you wondered if it was really comfortable walking like that. His hair was close to being strawberry blonde, and it reached his shoulders. This mysterious man kept his focus ahead, his gait elegant and intimidating. 

"Who is that?" Winter asked.

"That's Michael- uh, the Count?" Tristan said, stuttering when Liz shot him a warning glance. 

"What is this, Seasame Street?" Winter snorted. You couldn't help but laugh a little too loudly, but immediately stopped when Michael- the Count, turned his head in your direction. 

From the side, you could see his excellent bone structure, but it didn't prepare you for getting a good look at him. His cheekbones, his jawline, his eyes immediately drew you in. Michael stared at you for what seemed like an eternity before he broke your gaze. He continued on his way, a smirk now prominent on his lips. 

"Ooooooooh, he was looking at you," Winter teased, bringing her glass to her painted lips.

"Hush," you whispered. Tristan and Liz were still staring at each other, almost like they were having a conversation entirely in their heads. 

"Who is he again?" you questioned.

"He owns the hotel," Liz sighed. "He can be nice when he wants to be, but for the most part, he is a pain in my ass," she continued. "I can't talk shit for long, he saved my life, and Tristan's here."

"For sure, babe," Tristan hiccuped, patting the hand Liz had on the countertop. "I used to be a model, but that environment was so fucking toxic, Michael- shit! COUNT got me out of it, got me help, and here I am," he giggled, before leaning his head on your arm.

"I think that's enough for you, mister," Liz said, taking the empty glass and replacing it with water. Tristan pouted, taking a dainty sip. You and Winter watched with amusement, and you could smell his cologne. It was quite nice. 

"Do you think he'd talk to y/n?" Winter continued with her teasing, and you couldn't hide the blush on your cheeks. "I'd totally tap that if his hair was a bit shorter-"

Liz laughed, "Oh honey, he hasn't had short hair since ninety-nine, and he was a kid back then," 

You looked at her with a confused look, "Wait, how old is he?" 

"I'm thirty-four," you froze at the sound of a velvety voice. "Don't you know it's not polite to ask a man his age?" 

You and Winter shared a quick look, before slowly turning in your stools to face him. Tristan cleared his throat, taking a deep sip of water this time. 

Michael smirked at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. You tried to laugh with him but found you couldn't make a sound. Winter was still gazing at you with a sense of excitement and an "oh shit, you're in for it now," look. 

"I uh, I'm sorry, Mr...?" 

"Langdon," he finished for you. A smirk still plastered on his face, "However, I do find it rather endearing that two complete strangers seem to fret so much about my life," he said, his eyes now sliding towards Winter, who looked away in embarrassment.

Liz had made you another drink while Michael occupied your time, making this one stronger than the first. You'd need it after this. 

"You have such great eyeshadow," Winter said randomly, "It's perfect, really compliments your face,"

Michael's lips curled at this, but he found his eyes still trained on you. You were uncomfortable under his gaze. Like most of the human population, you hated being stared at. 

"How long are you two ladies staying?" he asked. 

"We leave Saturday morning," you answered without hesitation. Michael raised his eyebrow at your confidence. He assumed you were a bit of a hermit. 

"Interesting... I'm going to extend an invitation to you, y/n," he said. You didn't bother to ask how he knew your name. "Halloween night, You're going to join me for dinner. I don't do this often, as you know," he said, directing this part to Liz.

Liz didn't say anything until he widened his eyes at her, and that's when it clicked. "Oh, yes, never does this, never," she shook her head. Michael rolled his eyes before bringing a hand to his head. You noticed the large rings adorning his fingers, wondering if you could pay off your bills with those things. 

"I dislike when people talk about me, especially strangers," he smirked at you, "I find it rather rude, wouldn't you agree?" Michael pressed, waiting for a chorus of agreements.

And of course, he got them.

"Good. I'll have Iris keep you updated, y/n," Michael's eyes ran over you before he nodded towards the others. "And don't break anything, the other ones learned the hard way."

Michael walked off, still poised as if he were meeting royalty. You remained quiet as you swirled back in your seat, taking your new drink and chugging it. Winter grinned at you. 

"Is he always like that?" you asked the couple beside you, who continued to stare at you.

"Weirdly arousing and complex? Always." Liz replied before taking a shot of Vodka. 

*if you want to be added to this taglist, you know the drill.*