#a year ago today was gig number 1

[somethingsgottasaveyou]

can you believe it's almost a year since i screamed "i'm over getting older" at the top of my lungs with alex on my 25th birthday

[sweetbrier2908]

satan's random headcanons

• gives you kisses on knuckles and forehead because he's a charming prince who normally only exists in fantasy. but your fantasy turns out to be real life and now he's your prince charming.

• the most decent one in the family. the first time you realize he's actually a demon is when he talked about how he was going to tortune a lower demon.

• cat café date at least once a week. if there's a new cat? he goes there everyday for a week. friend with all the cat café owners in devildom, he also has share of some cat café since lucifer doesn't allow him to have his own cat.

• always says that he's gonna snitch to lucifer if his brothers do something wrong so he can trick them to tell him their secrets then blackmails them later. succeeds every time for 5000 years straight.

• actually the best cook in the house. from desserts to main courses. there is nothing that he can't cook, as long as he has his cook book with him. he learns recipes from every restaurant he goes, takes note of them, remembers what dish his brothers like and cook them later when he's on cooking duty (also remembers what dish lucifer dislikes and cook them later). if someone in the family says the dish he cooks today good, prepare to eat it for the rest of the year everytime satan's on cooking duty. yes, he LOVES to take care for his brothers though he never admits it.

• never organize his room unless lucifer angrily and strictly asks him to (which happened a very very long time ago since he casted a spell on his door to stop lucifer from entering his room). always says "it's messy in my own way", that's true, he knows where exactly to find this things. you need to borrow some books about devildom's history? shelf 1, row 2, number two from the right side. need some spicy romance book? on the floor, the whole stack at the left side of his armchair.

• knows some very good if not the best pick-up lines. first of all, he's closest with asmo. second, he reads romance books more than anyone in the three realms. always give you the most poetic love letters you've ever received.

• acquainted with all the high-status people in devildom. some random nobel? oh, he met they once in a art exhibition 1500 years ago, just grabbed a cup of coffee with them last month. some of the most famous corps in devildom or maybe human world? he's one of the shareholders. a businessman. literally a businessman. remember the chat where he said he introduced mammon to some perfume company so he could get 80% of the profit? yes, that's the businesman of the family.

• always befriends with people who benefit him and his family. mammon needs money? he can give his older brothers some modeling gigs. levi wants some limited merch? he knows someone in the company? beel wants to go to some restaurants? he can ask the chef to come to their house. no one knows how he expand his social network this much.

• loves to give you gifts. everything. from the most expensive scarf you can find in the whole world to a cat-shaped stone that he finds on the way home from RAD. gives you everything reminds him of you.

• always loves to try new thing with you. today you two goes to the drive-in cimema, the next day he will bring you to the ocean to go fishing. but if you want to go to the bookstore and then the cat café, he's happy to go with you, it's his most ideal date too! and if you don't want to go outside? he has some very interesting book you can try to read. he.will.never.bored.you.

• so insecure, always thinks of himself as the most avarage guy compared to his brothers, and compared to every guy you know. lucifer is always at the top, diavolo's right hand man and stuff; mammon is one of the most famous model in the three realms and known for his infamous reputation; levi is so passionate about his hobby; asmo is super popular and pretty and always the trend-setter; beel is the athlete, always loved by everyone; belphie is effortlessly smart, he's just straight-up the genius of the family and also a spoiled brat. and he, the middle child of the family, an avarage guy who will never be unique enough.

[made-ofmemories]

When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 16/18)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Steddie (mentioned), The rest of corroded coffin make an appearance, Gareth and Max are buddies.

Word count: 3064

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: There’s a supernatural reference hidden in here somewhere, let us know if you spot it!! And as always comments and kudos make our day, we love hearing from you guys :) Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3. Updates every Friday.

Series masterlist

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“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Max insists as if he hasn’t already explained this to her 5 times already, she’s persistent he’ll give her that.

“Because I am not taking a 15-year-old to a bar.”

He can’t see her, he’s in the back of his van loading up the supplies for the Corroded Coffin gig whilst she hovers around by the door. He doesn’t need to see her to be able to picture the glare he knows he’s getting from her, however.

“Almost 16.” She argues. He pops his head out of the side door of the van to throw an unamused scowl her way, “Gareth has been going with you since he was 15.”

“Gareth is part of the band.” He argues.

He doesn’t understand her persistence, it’s not like she’s never heard them play before. She’s constantly dropping by during practice, and Gareth has been teaching her how to play the drums, but she’s relentless. They’ve been having this argument on and off since he told her about the gig a week ago and today she’s been going at it since he picked her up from school more than an hour ago and she hasn’t let up, not once.

“So? I can help!”

“Child labor is generally frowned upon.”

“Eddie.”

“No.”

He thinks that’s the end of it, finally, when she doesn’t respond. Max is nowhere to be seen when he hops out of the van and slides the door shut. She must have given up and headed home to sulk, he assumes, until he opens the driver’s side door and sees her sitting there, seatbelt on, in the passenger seat smiling smugly. He pinches the bridge of his nose, he really should have seen that one coming.

“Alright. Fine.” He says, climbing into his seat and closing the door behind him, “2 rules. Number 1, you stay backstage. The entire time. No exceptions, got it?”

The gig is at a dingy little dive bar just outside of town. It’s a step up from the Hideout, where they previously played most of their gigs, they now get a crowd of maybe 10 drunks instead of 5 which Eddie counts as a win. There isn’t really much of a ‘backstage’ per se but there is a small corridor to the side of the stage with a tiny room Eddie suspects might have been a closet at one point but has since been refurbished into a makeshift dressing room. He should be able to keep an eye on her back there from the stage.

“Ok. Fine.” She agrees though she doesn’t look happy about it.

“2nd rule, do not tell Dustin about this.”

That one seems to confuse her a little, but she agrees anyway much less reluctantly than before. He really doesn’t want to have to deal with Dustin’s insufferable moaning if he finds out he’d taken Max along to a gig when he’s been begging to tag along for months and then he’d have to give in and take them both along to the next one. He is not going to be responsible for babysitting 2 teenagers at a bar they’re far too young to be at, especially not those 2 teenagers.

“Your mom is going to kill me.” He mutters as he starts the engine.

They meet the rest of the band out the back of the bar. Eddie parks his van in the usual spot and hops out to start unloading their equipment. Gareth, Jeff, and Carl are of very little help, much too busy excitedly conversing with Max who they hadn’t been expecting to tag along…

Neither had Eddie.

“Hey, Red.” He calls, interrupting their conversation, “You said you wanted to help right?”

She nods and makes her way over when he holds up one of the smaller amps from the back of the van. It’s much heavier than she’s expecting it to be and she almost drops it when he first hands it over until she adjusts to the weight of it. Eddie feels a little guilty for dumping it on her.

“You got it?” He asks, hands hovering near the amp ready to grab it if she needs him to.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Her voice is strained with the effort it takes to hold up the amp, and she shuffles off letting Gareth help her with it as they head inside and he shows her where to place it.

He does most of the heavy lifting after that, with some help from Jeff and Carl, and leaves Max to help Gareth setting up the drum kit. She’s been fascinated by the drums more than anything else ever since the first band practice she attended, much to his dismay. He’s tried countless times to convince her the guitar is clearly much cooler, but she won’t be persuaded.

Max finds him a few minutes before they’re due on stage. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, all excitement and nervous energy. He’s humming quietly in an attempt to calm his nerves. Eddie is by no means shy, he doesn’t think anyone could ever mistake him as such. He’s always been filled with confidence, maybe a little too much confidence at times, with a larger-than-life personality. But something about those final few moments before heading on stage to perform will always fill him with anxiety.

“Are you humming Metallica?” She asks, voice filled with mirth.

“Helps calm me down.” He explains. Their conversation is cut short when Jeff calls for Eddie a second later, “Alright, remember the rules. You stay right there. Do not move, ok?” He says hurriedly as he rushes to join the rest of his band.

“I know, I know!” She huffs, but her grumpiness is short-lived and quickly replaced by a wide smile, “Good luck!”

Eddie loves his job at the garage. He does. But this, being on stage and performing, this is everything.

They play mostly covers with the occasional original song thrown into the mix. He glances over to Max throughout, partially to make sure she’s ok and partially because he knows her and would not be surprised if she snuck off. She stays put and even seems to be getting into it, jumping along and banging her head to the music with a smile plastered onto her face the entire time.

The bar had been quiet, to begin with, but by the time they play the last song they’d gained quite a crowd. Max is right there when he steps off stage, talking so fast he can’t make out a word she’s saying. He’s never seen her like this, so… hyped up.

“Max.” He says, but she continues on anyway. He places his hands on her shoulders and tries again, “Max! Slow. Down.”

That snaps her back to reality and her smile gets impossibly wider as she grips his arms, “That was awesome!”

He laughs at her excitement and then the other 3 are surrounding them and he’s swept up in a mess of one-armed hugs, high fives, and more unintelligible excited chatter. Max fits right in.

Loading up the van again is the worst part. The only good part about it is the rush of the cool February air that hits them when they step outside. The air in the bar had been stale and sticky with heat and Eddie had spent the past hour jumping around the stage which hadn’t helped.

Despite his makeshift tank top (an old iron maiden t-shirt with the sleeves cut off), he was covered in a sheen of sweat, his curls damp and sticking to his forehead. Jeff, Gareth, and Carl don’t look much better off. Even Max looks like she’s suffering from it, a few stray hairs escaping from her twin braids and sticking to the side of her face and the apples of her cheeks glowing a rosy red.

“You hungry?” Eddie asks as Max helps him load up the last of their equipment.

“Starving.”

“Alright, I know a place near here.” It’s somewhat of a post-show tradition, greasy fast food is just what they all need after a performance.

Jeff and Carl don’t stay, they have to work early the next day and make their orders to go, both of them heading back to Jeff’s car after sharing their goodbyes. Gareth stays, insistent that he’ll be able to wedge himself into Eddie’s van alongside all of their equipment.

They take up a table in the corner of the room, there’s no one else around other than the staff who mostly remain behind the counter on the other side of the room, and the occasional customer who wanders in to pick up an order and then leaves just as quickly.

Eddie notices that Max squints her eyes a little while reading the menu much like how Steve does when he’s having trouble with his eyesight. It’s not the first time he’s noticed her doing it, but for now he’s been keeping it to himself. If bringing up his eyesight was a delicate topic for Steve, asking Max about her own is just asking for trouble. When it comes to Max, the best course of action more often than not is to let her reach out on her own.

Max excuses herself to use the restroom almost as soon as they’re seated with their food, leaving Eddie alone with Gareth.

“You’re just sad that loverboy couldn’t make it this week.” Gareth is saying, waving a fry around between them as he talks, right as Max returns.

“Wait.” She says, brow furrowed with confusion, and Gareth whips around to see her standing behind him. His face drops, he clearly hadn’t heard her approaching over the sound of the music playing through the speakers scattered around the room, “Steve comes to your gigs?”

Gareth's expression very quickly morphs into something much more mischievous and Eddie lowers his head to the table with a thud. Great, now there’s 2 of them.

“Oh yeah, all the time.” Gareth confirms, “Dude always sticks out like a sore thumb, he showed up in this bright yellow sweater last week. He said he liked one of our original songs and Eddie blushed about it for like 3 hours afterward.”

“Awww,” Max coos, and Eddie groans. His forehead is still plastered to the sticky table in front of him, it can’t be very hygienic, he doesn’t even want to think about the last time it was cleaned but he also can’t find it in him to care all that much at the moment, “He likes your songs!” She mocks, her tone is light and teasing, earning a laugh from Gareth.

“You’re both walking home,” Eddie announces, finally looking up long enough to throw a fry into his mouth.

“Steve wouldn’t be very happy about that.” Max quips back, trying to suppress a smile but failing miserably.

He narrows his eyes at her, twirling a fry around in his fingers as he contemplates throwing it at her.

“Yeah, Eddie, what would loverboy think of you if you make Max and your best friend walk back home in the middle of the night?”

“There’s going to be a vacancy for that best friend position very soon.” He informs Gareth, deciding to throw the fry at him instead.

“Bet you’d let Stevie fill it in a heartbeat.” Gareth continues, apparently unphased by the fry-turned projectile as he picks it out of his hair and tosses it onto the table.

“I don’t think that’s the title he’d like to give to Stevie.”

“God damn it, you two are insufferable! Why the hell did I introduce you to each other!?”

“Oh, come on, you love us.”

“Just not as much as Stevie right?” Max adds. She and Gareth are laughing so hard they can barely breathe, making Eddie regret the day they met, he should have known this would happen.

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

Max falls asleep on the ride back to the trailer park after dropping Gareth off at his house. It isn’t particularly late, but apparently, the excitement had taken its toll. He shakes her awake with a hand on her shoulder once they’re outside her trailer, careful not to startle her too much and she blinks herself awake groggily.

“Wha- whasup?” she asks, looking around trying to make sense of her surroundings. He is sure that if he doesn’t get her moving in the next couple of seconds she’ll fall asleep again.

“We’re back, come on, let’s get you home.” He holds her hands and tries to pull her up to no avail. “Come on Red, you have a perfectly comfortable bed waiting for you. You really don’t want to sleep in the van, believe me, it sucks.”

“Nooo, my legs don’t work.” She whines, closing her eyes again.

“They worked just fine before.”

“But they don’t work anymore.” She mumbles, letting her body slump further in the passenger seat. “You’ll have to leave me here or carry me home.”

“Jesus, Max. Are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie parks his van beside his trailer, that way he could make a beeline to his bed after taking Max home, she’s not the only one who’s exhausted. He gets out of the van and walks to Max’s side to open the passenger door.

“Come on, Red, hop on my back.” He says turning around.

“Can’t” Max grumbles.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He asks, turning to face her.

“Can’t get up.” She complains as she tries to push herself from the seat fighting the restraint of her seatbelt.

“Of course you can’t, Red. You haven’t taken the seatbelt off.” Eddie laughs in exasperation. He reaches over and unbuckles the seatbelt, guiding it back to the pillar loop making sure the tongue won’t hit her as it retracts back to its place. “There, done, now hop on.”

Max gets on his back, her arms in a very loose grip over his shoulders, head resting on one of them, for a moment he’s scared he’s going to drop her before he hoists her up and gets a more secure hold on her legs which are dangling limply at his sides. “I swear, Red. You constantly argue with me every time I call you a kid and then you go and pull this off. You’re lucky you’re my sister.”

“Daughterofanothermister?” He wouldn’t have understood what she just said if it wasn’t for her face being right beside his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, daughter of another mister and all that. Just don’t drool on me.” He closes the door of the van with his hip before beginning to walk towards her trailer. The lights are on and he really hopes that her mom is still awake, if not he’d leave a note and she’d have to crash at his place, there’s no way he’s going to try to get the spare key while carrying a half asleep teenager on his back.

He knocks on the door twice, making sure he still has a secure grip on Max before trying the second time. Thankfully Susan is still awake and lets him in. At first, she tries to take Max from him, but he brushes off her concern, “Don’t worry about it Susan, I got her. I’ll just leave her on her bed. And make my way out.”

“Alright, if you say so. How was your mini concert?" Now that's news, he didn't know that Susan was aware of his gigs, "Did you kids have fun?"

"You knew about it?" He asks with wide eyes.

"Of course, that's all Max has been talking about, she begged me to let her go with you." So the little rascal had permission and didn't tell him!

"It went well. We stopped for some food on the way back, so she’s eaten."

"I see, well thank you for bringing her home. I’m going to bed now that you two are home safely, be a dear and lock the door for me on your way out please?.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks, good night Eddie.” She closes the distance between them and presses a kiss to his right cheek and a gentle pat on the left before heading to her room.

“Good night Susan.” While not a rare occurrence by now, he’s still not used to Susan’s maternal affection being directed at him. Not that he dislikes it, it just brings back bittersweet memories.

Eddie takes Max to her bedroom. He pulls the sheets back, keeping Max balanced precariously on his back the entire time until he’s done and carefully sets her down. He has to coax her to lay down correctly with her head on her pillow instead of across her bed. He takes her sneakers off before covering her with the sheets. There’s a pair of glasses on her bedside table and he picks them up to get a closer look. They haven’t been worn in a while based on the thin sheen of dust covering the surface.

“These work a lot better when you actually wear them, you know that right?” He asks, but all he gets in return is a sleepy grumble. He’s about to leave when her hand darts out from under the covers and grabs onto his wrist.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Most metal concert ever.”

“That’s high praise there, Red. Good night.” He says with a big smile.

“Night, Eddie.”

He locks the front door with the spare key and places it back in its hiding spot. For a moment he contemplates unloading the van, but he’s too tired to be lugging around the amps. He just grabs his sweetheart and prays that the rest of the equipment will still be there in the morning.

He’s so tired. The adrenaline of the night from the performance, from doing what he loves, has long worn off, only leaving a kind of satisfied tiredness.

He takes his boots off, his belt and jeans follow next. While he knows he shouldn’t have taken Max with him tonight, he’s glad he did. He’s even more glad that she had actually asked her mom for permission. He’s happy he got to share this part of his life with her. And she was right, it was metal, her presence there really made it a great night.

Even if he now has to deal with her and Gareth teaming up against him. But that’s a problem for future Eddie to deal with.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Why are you at the wake?

AO3 link

THIS ISN’T ANGSTY, this title is just a product of the Taylor Swift-fication of my life. It’s a fluffy funeral fic you just have to trust me on this.

Fun fact: While I was writing this oneshot and after all the details had already been set, my real life weirdly well-off former math teacher was arrested by the federal police for drug trafficking and money laundering. What are the odds, right? Now I wish I had worked a little more on Arobynn, but this is already too long. I hope you like it!

Word count: 5,2k

TW: NSFW, mentions of death, swear words.

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Rowan was at the funeral of the most despicable man he had ever met when he saw his old high school friend bawling her eyes out. At first he thought it was a mirage. He hadn’t seen Aelin in four years and his brain had decided a small amount of psychosis would be the way to go. But after staring openly and receiving a polite nudge from his uncle, Rowan had decided it was probably Aedion with longer hair. Except that Aedion didn’t have boobs. And then Rowan’s face flushed. He shouldn’t be looking at his friend’s breasts, specially at a funeral. Were they friends still?

While everyone meant to leave for the wake, Rowan just realized he never even took his coat off. He shook hands, nodded, and stared at Aelin. That was it. When Aelin first saw him, at the beginning of the ceremony, her eyes were so wide it looked comical. But them she gave him a closed-lip smile and went back to mourning Arobynn Hamel.

As Rowan walked, following his uncle’s trail, he scrambled his mind trying to find a reasonable answer for the fourth time today.

Fact check number four: (1) Aelin was on his high school friend group; (2) he had a crush on her for the entirety of those four years and was very drawn to her sense of humor, which wouldn’t be important if; (3) they had bonded a lot over hating Mr. Hamel, their math teacher; (4) until Aelin left to Torre Cesme to become a doctor.

The only reason Rowan himself was there was because his uncle, the school principal, wanted the company. Maybe he should feel guilty about not feeling anything towards his very dead creepy old teacher who spent months at the hospital before dying, but he didn’t. The only thing he felt now was worry because Aelin was sobbing and fondness because her nose looked so cute when she cried, like a tiny cherry tomato.

Now that they were at the wake and there was no minister to pretend to pay attention to, Rowan went directly to his friend, crying alone in a corner.

“Long time no see,” he greeted with a small smile. But when she looked up, Aelin was beaming at him. All of a sudden, it was like her reaction to seeing him had disarranged all of Rowan’s organs at once. He felt like his insides were made of molten gold. He couldn’t believe he was used to see this on a daily basis four years ago.

“I’ve missed you.” And then she squeezed his hand, making his whole arm tingle.

“I didn’t know you were in town.”

Aelin blushed. “I’ve only told my family, but I’m moving back.” Rowan probably did a terrible job at hiding his shock, because she was quick to explain, “I’m not giving up on being a doctor, I’ll just continue everything here in Orynth.” He couldn’t muster much apart from his blinking, so she just grimaced and muttered, “I’ve been here the whole summer. I’m sorry I didn’t let you and the gang know. I’ve been busy.”

Rowan nodded. “How did you know about Mr. Hamel?”

“I got in a summer internship at Orynth General, I saw him there twice, I think.” Rowan didn’t know what to say, so she just elbowed him and asked, “How’s the Little Folk?”

That was a low blow, considering where they were at. Aelin insisted on making Little Folk jokes ever since he decided to become a forest engineer, and she knew he would always try not to smile at them and fail miserably. “Very cranky. Apparently, the new president is shit. They miss Brannon and Mala terribly,” he joked back with a straight face, but then they were both giggling in the middle of Arobynn Hamel’s wake. Their voices weren’t even loud, but it was enough to make them stick out above the quiet conversation and weeping in the room.

A few moments after they sobered up, Rowan’s uncle brought them a plate with snacks as a cover up to give him a reproaching look and stay by his side once again, now along with two other teachers, Deji Ytger and Clarisse DuVency.

When Mr. Ytger was telling them one of his stories about Arobynn Hamel, Aelin eyed the now half-eaten snack plate with watered eyes and placed a mini sausage on the palm on her hand, croaking, “Oh, Arobynn!” before starting to sob again. Oh God, did she and Mr. Hamel? No, it couldn’t be. While Rowan stared at her wide-eyed once again, Mr. Ytger had one hand covering his mouth and a shaking upper body, definitely trying not to laugh. When he couldn’t control it anymore, he started to fake coughing to at least pretend he wasn’t laughing at the wake. In the meanwhile, his uncle was fake-assisting Mr. Ytger with his sudden coughing fit, and Ms. DuVency was shooting daggers at Aelin. The only good explanation he had for that would be jealousy, but Rowan wouldn’t have it. There had to be another reason. The Aelin he knew wouldn’t. Right?

Felling a surge of protection towards his visibly shaken friend, Rowan put a hand on her shoulder, stroking it with his finger. “Come on, Fireheart. We’re leaving.” This environment was upsetting her too much. She needed fresh air. Chocolate hazelnut cake. Play with dogs. Aelin was biting her lip, probably debating an answer, when Clarisse DuVency decided to interfere.

“So soon?”

Aelin sniffed and answered, “This is too much, I need to leave.”

Clarisse rolled her eyes and turned to Rowan. “I don’t recall your name.”

“Rowan, I used to be one of his students.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Arobynn never mentioned yourself to me.” He wouldn’t mention or even remember every one of his students, but Rowan didn’t feel like pointing it out. The woman’s thoughts must be clouded with grief now. Thankfully, Aelin was quick to fix the misunderstanding.

“Don’t mind him. He’s accompanying Mr. Whitethorn.”

The older woman sighed. “I don’t care. Thanks for coming.” Aelin shook hands with Clarisse and tuck them back in her pockets, but let Rowan guide her towards the exit with a hand on her back. The middle part. Aelin was grieving, lower back touches would be borderline disrespectful. Rowan wasn’t even minding his now apparently eight-year-old minor crush on her. Aelin was upset, and Rowan’s job was to fix it. Just like he used to do back in high school.

Mr. Ytger offered to give uncle Ellys a ride home before anyone could even ask, and off they went.

Aelin had cheered up even before they got to her favorite patisserie, and Rowan was glad. She always had that lively, dazzling personality, it would be a shame losing it after this death. Arobynn fucking Hamel. He was still puzzled about it, but she didn’t need that kind of inquisition now. After buying two slices of chocolate hazelnut cake for Aelin, he took her to his house to pack a picnic bag and go to the park nearby.

“Fuck! This place is huge. I had no idea the Little Folk payed so well.” Rowan blushed. It certainly looked bigger because it was completely white and bare, but he wasn’t going to correct her.

���It was my parents’s. Uncle Ellys used to rent it for my college savings ever since they died. I just moved in.” Uncle Ellys had gifted him a fridge, and their cousins Sellene and Enda gave him a microwave. Apart from the mattress he had bought online, that was all the furniture he had. Aelin didn’t seem to mind it, though.

“Do you plan to rent these rooms to a fuckton of people?”

“Not if can help it, no.”

Aelin sighed. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re the first real grown up from our friend group.” Rowan didn’t feel like reminding her he didn’t own a couch. Or a stove. Instead, he grinned at her, teasing.

“Oh, you don’t know half of it.”

She looked radiant with a wide grin and sparkling eyes. “Tell me!”

He grinned back. “Lorcan has a ring.” Aelin’s mouth fell open, but she quickly put on her teasing smirk.

“Oh, you don’t know the other half of it.” Rowan raised his eyebrows and it was enough to make her continue, “Elide is ten weeks pregnant.”

Rowan just blinked at her, trying to think of something to say. Until he quietly beamed, “Wow.” He was surprised, but not so much. Rowan knew Elide had been Lorcan’s whole world since they were sixteen, this was just a matter of time. He was thrilled for his friends, but Rowan couldn’t help feeling a little bit of jealousy. Rowan was living on a four-bedroom house with no prying cousins, no chaotic dinners, no loud dogs. After spending years wishing he could have a quiet home to himself, he kind of missed all that mess. Every night, Rowan laid uncomfortably at night because he always forgot to buy himself anything capable of controlling his houses’s temperature, and when he looked at his empty room with a throat too thick and chest too heavy, at least one of his cousins were up to tell him about aunt Maeve’s current fights with the neighbors or what Sellene’s kids were up to. Rowan wasn’t prepared for a bride ready to fill his new house with children, but it would be nice to have prospects of a healthy romantic life. He even thought about asking Fenrys to come live with him for the company, but Rowan didn’t feel like staining his parent’s place with his friend’s orgies and parades of women. And men. Non-binary people too.

Aelin was watching him with rapt attention. When he gave her his attention back, her eyes had a certain glow as she muttered, “I know, right?”

Rowan swallowed and led her to the kitchen. “So, for park snacks we have cheese, fruit, a six-pack-“

Something made her cackle at him, and just the sound of her laughter warmed up Rowan’s whole body, making him wear a silly grin in return. “Buzzard, it’s pouring outside. I don’t think the park is our better option now.” He was so glad she still remembered his old nickname it took him a second to process the information. When he looked at the window, it was raining so much it was impossible to even look through it. And sounded like the roof would fall anytime soon too, but Rowan was so focused on Aelin’s laugh and sunshine-colored hair and lemon verbena scent that he didn’t notice it was pelting down outside. He sighed.

“Do you want me to drop you home or—“

“Absolutely not. I’m not giving up on our picnic date so easily,” she chimed. Wait. Did she say it was a date? Rowan’s mind was too fuzzy by her presence, he must’ve imagined it. She was crying on Arobynn Hamel’s funeral an hour ago, for Mala’s sake. Rowan needed to get a grip.

He didn’t have a basket, but Aelin helped him arrange a few plates with food. Then Rowan put a blanket in his living room and they sat against the wall. It was hard to ignore the tingling where Aelin’s shoulder bumped on his. For a moment he gave a mental heads up to teenage Rowan, he was so much better at ignoring his feelings.

“So. I guess you didn’t like Antica?”

She sighed. “I’d find it the perfect city to spend a few weeks, but I missed Terrasen. Terribly. The place and the people. When you go live on your own, there’s a lot of talk about the new things to do and places to see, but no one warns you about how lonely it can get. I made a few friends, but it didn’t ease much.” Rowan never lived abroad, but he could relate to it in his own way. He would never judge her for coming back. In fact, he was happy she had the guts to do it.

“That means you left the best medical program in the world to... the third best?” Aelin was completely obsessed with these rankings back in high school, he hoped he got it right.

She mock-groaned. “Fourth. Fenharrow got the 3rd spot last year. Can you believe it?”

He was so fucking proud of her. “Well, 4th won’t do. Your parents must be so disappointed in you.” She knew he knew Rhoe and Evalin would be elated even if she was studying at the last school in the ranking, so they just chuckled. “You’re amazing, Aelin.”

“I know,” she answered with a smirk. “What I don’t know,” she lazily continued, “Is what you do for a living.”

Rowan bit his lip. Making people fully understand what he did for a living within a few words was still a challenge to him. “I work for the police.” The tilt of her head and furrowed eyebrows wasn’t an unfamiliar response to this. “It works best if I give you an example. Last week some guy’s roof fell. But it turns out it was from illegal logging, so they called me and—“

“Fuck, you’re a tree cop!” This was exactly how Sellene explained it to her children, and he didn’t really like it, but Aelin’s mouth was ajar and her gorgeous turquoise eyes were enormous from excitement, so yes. He was a tree cop.

“That was just a common example, but yes. Kind of, actually.”

“Okay, then. Tell me what happened with illegal roof guy.” Rowan gazed at Aelin, doing a double take on her. Her body was tilted towards him, her eyes seemed to wait for him to continue. Rowan was completely conscious that he was probably the only person who found his job interesting, but he didn’t really mind it. He had planned to spare Aelin from the very exciting boring details, but she was the one asking for more, right?

And off he went on the case, Rowan telling her all about how his analysis were helping the police work on this. What surprised him was that she seemed really interested and even interrupted him to ask questions sometimes. A lot of times he felt her gaze on his mouth, but he didn’t want to read too much into it. His living room had no furniture or decorations, it wasn’t like she had much spots to look at. He’d just swallow or look at the white pillars and beams.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you talk this much at once. Tree anatomy is something else to you, isn’t it?” A comment like that would be enough to make Rowan self-conscious, but Aelin’s tone of voice was warm, and she had a smile so big it was reaching her eyes. But something shifted when she lifted her chin and he could do nothing but shiver when her lips parted and she licked them. Rowan felt all of the hair from the nape of his neck rise when her tentative hands landed on his cheeks, one before the other, but he couldn’t do this. It didn’t matter that he’d wanted to do this for eight years, he wouldn’t be the guy that picked a girl up at a funeral and took advantage of her grief. Teenage Rowan was pretty disgusting, but he’d agree with grown-up Rowan on this.

He gently cupped Aelin’s hands with his own, stopping her caresses. “Don’t touch me like that.”

“Oh.” Her hand dropped like they were on fire. Her face reddened like it too. “I’m sorry. Um. I didn’t mean—“

“It’s just the, you know, the funeral.” She wasn’t even looking him in the eye anymore. Rowan felt like shit. But something clicked in Aelin’s head and she snapped back to him, her eyes filled with worry.

“Fuck, I forgot about about that. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit on you while you’re grieving, that was a jerk move.”

So. Awkward. “No. I mean. I was just accompanying Uncle Ellys, but you were kind of a wreck over there. No offense. I’m worried, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Aelin bit her lip. “I see.” Her shoulders starting shaking. And then she started giggling and trying to suppress them. However, she gave that up real quick and started to crack up on him. He wanted to see it as a good sign, but he had no idea what was so funny, and Sellene had a habit of laughing a lot when she felt nervous. So Rowan just stared at Aelin, completely at loss, until she came down from the laughing fit. And then she started to compose herself again. “You see,” she said between deep breaths, “I was actually hired to attend that funeral.”

What the fuck? There was no reply, no thoughts on his head. Rowan froze both mentally and physically. If a fly entered his agape mouth at that moment, it’d probably just keep spinning there.

“God, you look cute when you’re shocked,” she beamed, “Anyway, remember I got the internship at the hospital? I’m at another wing, but I was asked to cover for someone, so I ran into him and he recognized me and told me he was dying and shit. The other time I went there, he told me he’d pay for my transportation expenses when I went to his funeral. He didn’t even invite me, just told me I’d be there.”

“So you cried at his funeral for a bus ticket?” He raised his eyebrow, but it just made her grin and prompted her further.

“That’s what I thought, but then he said Clarisse DuVency was going to pay me after, and the price he offered was enough for me to buy—“ She spent a few seconds looking at a spot on the floor with furrowed eyebrows. Aelin was never good at math. “Twenty-five slices of chocolate hazelnut cake! From Emrys’s.”

“No shit.” Emrys’s was one of the fanciest patisseries in town. Rowan was beyond shocked.

“Yes shit. And then he told me he’d double it if I cried.”

Like flipping a switch, Rowan unfroze and started laughing. A lot. What kind of person hires people to cry at their funeral? And Aelin followed him suit, both of them looking a tiny bit hysterical while sat on his white unfurnished room.

Aelin decided rest on the floor, lying on her side. “And the icing on the cake,” she wheezed, “Is that I saw two nurses crying there too.”

Rowan lay on his side as well, facing Aelin, and put a strand of her hair behind her ear. “For what it’s worth, I think you were a fantastic mourner. You earned those fifty slices of cake.”

“Thank you,” she said with closed eyes and a smile.

Rowan held her face, and his thumb wandered languidly through her cheeks and chin. But then Rowan inched closer to her and, with slightly shaky hands, gave a gentle stroke on her bottom lip. “Is this okay?”

When Aelin nodded, Rowan had a feeling he would have to go to the hospital if his heart started beating any faster. Still, he closed the space between them and kissed her. Soft at first, trying not to push his luck, but then she grabbed his chin and rolled herself on top of him, deepening the kiss. Her lips were so soft, and Rowan had never liked chocolate until he tasted it from Aelin’s mouth.

They kissed. So much. Aelin had her hands under his shirt and started to press herself against his cock until he couldn’t think anymore. So he decided to yank her hair and attack that soft spot below her ear that made her moan his name every time, and that’s when he realized he’d probably crave her lavender scent for the rest of his life. Aelin gave him a hurried kiss and stood up from the floor, extending him a hand.

“Shirt off. Now.” Rowan gave her a cocky smile and lifted his shirt. When the fabric of the shirt had allowed him to see again, Aelin’s face had gone from defiant to... Actually, he didn’t know what the fuck it was. She was blinking with her mouth opened. Did he disappoint her? He shouldn’t have skipped the gym all those days this month and—

“You didn’t look like this in high school.” It was easy to see the rise and fall of Aelin’s chest as she heavy breathed and still shamelessly stared at his abs.

“I’m not seventeen anymore, Aelin.”

“Good.” She jumped at him and the soft hands that started near his collarbones traveled down his whole torso. So did her mouth that, after kissing his, travelled south patiently, tasting his jaw, neck, chest, every inch of his six-pack. Rowan was so light-headed by then he was afraid he’d lose his mind entirely before she’d get where he wanted.

When Aelin was on her knees and undoing his buttons like the good girl she was, he gripped her chin and painstakingly said, “You don’t have to.”

However, she just finished taking his cock out of his clothes, licked her lips and grinned like fucking Hellas at what she saw. “Don’t you think your cock deserves to have its every inch licked off, Rowan?” Maintaining eye contact, she sinfully licked it from the base to the tip, swirling her tongue at the end. “I know it won’t fit in my mouth.” And she proved her fucking point, swallowing his length until he could feel it hitting somewhere, making him grip her hair harder. “Is that why you want to let me off? Because you want to fill me up all the way?” Aelin was jacking him off as she spoke, never letting him clear his hazy mind to focus on what she was saying. “Because if that’s the case, I’m sure my pussy can take it.”

Shit. He was in such deep, unending shit.

Without thinking much, Rowan yanked her off the floor and threw her over his shoulder, taking Aelin upstairs while hearing her laughs and mock complaints to put her down.

When Rowan reached his bedroom and indeed put her down, his stomach dropped as she started laughing. For Mala’s sake, he’d never bring a girl home—not any girl, Aelin Galathynius—if he’d remembered he didn’t own a bed. Unfazed, she started stripping on her way to his mattress, and he followed suit. Each one of her torturous movements sent the room on fire a little more. She was a goddess through and through, and if he didn’t kill himself for his lack of bed, he was sure Aelin herself would tease him to death later.

Aelin tried to continue what she started downstairs after laying on the mattress, but Rowan pinned her hands above her head and went directly to her breasts. He licked and sucked them while she moaned with her legs around his waist. She tightened her hold on him when he mentioned to keep trailing down, so Rowan set Aelin’s underwear aside and started to put some pressure above her clit with his thumb, flicking it in tandem with her nipple and making her arch underneath him.

Rowan was always short-circuiting when it came to Aelin, but right now his brain was surprisingly hyper-active. He was high on her smell and the way she reacted to his touches. He inserted a finger inside her, and she was so wet he decided she could take two more. Slowly, dragging this out as much as he could. It was a challenge to coordinate the tongue on her nipple with the thumb on her clit and the fingers inside her, but every touch, moan and scream from Aelin sent electric bolts through his body and made his brain high on her, wanting more.

With building intensity, Rowan’s fingers were hungrily stroking her G-spot, moving like they were calling her to him. He could feel it when her breath hitched and she gripped him like a lifeline. Aelin started making strangled noises and screaming his name, and he drew her orgasm out until he couldn’t feel her insides pulsing anymore.

She was completely limp on his mattress, but grabbed his hair and guided his mouth towards hers, lazily kissing him while she recovered.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Babe, I don’t even have a bed.” He was too aroused to feel ashamed by now.

She started chuckling on the crook of his neck. “That’s a terrible answer. I’m going to sit on your face for it.” Fuck. Yes.

“I’m yours to sit, Ma’am.”

So she kneeled on the mattress and began to positioned herself, but then she started turning and—

Bloody Hellas.

She was going to sixty-nine the hell out of him right here, right now.

That woman was going to be the death of him. In fact, as Aelin positioned herself on his face, Rowan decided that if he actually choked to death on that ass he’d die a happy man.

With a heart beating a mile a minute with anticipation, Rowan yanked Aelin’s hips with a bit more force than he should and started feasting on her before she could finish adjusting herself on him. Instead of protesting, she ground herself in his face and tipped her head back, moaning. So Rowan gave as much of a slap as he could on her ass as a reminder to do her part of the position, feeling her clench on his tongue before hearing her groan. He did a mental note to be in a more punishable position the next time she teased him with something and took too long to follow through.

When Aelin swallowed around his cock, sucking on it and applying pressure on the remaining part with her hand, Rowan felt like his whole body was ignited by her. The ecstasy she put him in sent him into a frenzy, he refused to let her wet mouth distract him from his part of the position, and judging from Aelin’s demeanor, she was thinking the same. So they gave as good as they got. Rowan would part her lips and flick his tongue over and over again on her clit, and when she’d moan, she did in on his cock, so he’d feel it reverberate on every inch of him. This felt like the most intimate game Rowan had ever played, and he was drowning in pleasure from it.

When Aelin’s knees started trembling too much, he already knew his release would come soon too. Rowan gripped Aelin’s hips tight to gave her more support, and she gripped his face with her thighs as she came, stimulating him with her hand only so she could scream his name. She got back to sucking him even before coming down completely, but Rowan was soon giving her gentle taps to warn her. But she didn’t listen, swallowing him whole as Rowan felt all the electricity tightening his body dissolve into pleasure.

Rowan didn’t move, but Aelin left her spot on his face to cuddle him on the mattress, limbs completely tangled.

“That was perfect.”

He nuzzled her hair with his nose. “You’re perfect.”

“I’ll confess something to you. If you find it creepy, I promise I’ll leave.”

“Spill.” He felt rather than saw Aelin take a deep breath, and it was all preparation she gave herself.

“Ihadacrushonyoubackinhighschool.”

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

Aelin sat on her spot, looking him in the eye. “I had a crush on you back in high school. Still do, apparently.”

No fucking way. There was absolutely no fuck—

“Rowan, please say something.” Her eyes her wide, and she had a death grip on the sheet above her chest, which was rising and falling swiftly.

Rowan smiled, tackled Aelin back on the mattress and kissed her throughly, the way she deserved to be kissed. “I had a crush on you too.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at him, but the fake-mourner with impressive acting skills was having trouble hiding her excitement. A few seconds later, she smiled at him, but still said, “I don’t believe you.”

Rowan smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “Lorcan knew, you can confirm with him.”

Her jaw fell. “You’re lying! Elide knew, and she would...” Aelin trailed down and stared blankly at the wall, processing something. But then she directed herself back to him, her posture relaxed once more, and started cracking up at this mess. And Rowan easily followed suit. Now he started to remember all the times they’d abandon them and come back later to glare at Fenrys. Poor Boyo, he probably had no clue. Elide was more subtle, but Rowan always thought Lorcan just didn’t like Fen. Or maybe it was true, and those occasions were just added to the list. Anyway, he didn’t care about that now.

Rowan and Aelin were staring at each other with silly grins when she decided to use his abs as a pillow. “This is when you get me food. Shitty microwave lasagna, preferably.”

“I can also take you to dinner and buy good restaurant lasagna.”

“Nope.” She popped the *p* while shaking her head and grinned at him. “We’re eating supermarket lasagna on the floor and then having sex with our supermarket condoms. It’s about the experience. And the fact that I don’t have the appropriate clothes now.” He’d be happy to follow through her plans, but her refusal made him feel uneasy. Did she not want to go on a serious date with him? Rowan realized with a huge knot on his stomach that just because she thought he was cute four years ago didn’t mean she’d want to be with him now and—

“Buzzard, you okay?” She was sitting in front of him now, biting her lip with furrowed eyebrows.

He cleared his throat. “Aelin, is this a one-night stand to you?”

Her whole face softened. “I don’t want it to be.“

“I’m glad,” he replied while cupping her face, looking Aelin deep into her eyes and kissing her lips once again. It was impossible to get tired of those.

“Perfect. Now that that’s settled, we’re buying an air conditioner tomorrow morning. I’m not giving you an option here.” Aelin’s earnest eyes told him she meant business, so Rowan just hugged her closer, feeling her smile on the crook of his neck. He’d buy all the heaters she wanted if it meant she’d continue to sleep by his side.

Just to tease her, Rowan insisted on his previous offer. “I was hoping to take you on a proper first date before grocery shopping and buying house stuff together.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes. “You’ll still buy me food, Rowan. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.” He laughed and they started to get dressed.

“Can I at least take you to lunch after buying the AC?” Rowan offered while they were descending the stairs.

She smiled at him. “That’s actually perfect. Is there a chance you can also buy a bed?”

Rowan laughed and brushed their lips together as he grabbed his keys. “Sure. I’ll buy us a bed.”

TAG LIST:

@elentiyawhitethorn

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Battle of the Bands - Chapter 1

chpt 1 / chpt 2 / chpt 3 / chpt 4 / chpt 5 / chpt 6 / chpt 7 / chpt 8 / chpt 9 / chpt 10 / chpt 11 / chpt 12 / chpt 13 / chpt 14

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Genre: nothing yet, but eventually fluff and smut, maybe a bit of enemies to lovers :)

Warnings: an au where Chrissy doesn’t die so obviously Eddie graduates high school :)), more of an intro chapter but it gets more interesting I promise

Word Count: 940

A/N: Based on a prompt that @calizmor posted awhile ago. I decided to go with prompt B! I hope you enjoy :)

———

Battle of the Bands, a haven for popstars, rockstars, and metalheads alike. Bands of all ages and genres, some traveling from across the country, some from even outside the country. A competition that rewards bragging rights, cash, free studio time, or gigs somewhere big in the local town. But you weren’t in it for the bragging rights, maybe a little bit of them money, but mostly for fun. Which was why you were lucky it was held in the Indiana’s capital, Indianapolis. Almost an hour away from your band’s hometown, New Castle, Indiana. So all six of you packed up into your chevy van, almost too small for all of you, and headed over to Indianapolis.

Your band, Shooting Arrows, had met in high school, your sophomore year. You all bonded quickly, due to having band together, a couple classes together, and lunch. Your lead singer, Jenny. A cute blonde with blue eyes, a stereotypical theatre prodigy in all the musical plays, playing the main character. She was pretty, long and slender. She practically had all the boys in your shared grade wrapped around her fingers. Your drummer, Patty. She had graduated with you and Jenny. Brown, short, curly hair. She was sweet. No one would ever put together the dots that she was the drummer for both the high school band and your town’s local girl band at first sight. Your keyboardist, a boy named Chris. He was a junior when you met him, graduating a year before you. He was quiet, little nerdy glasses on his face. But he was friendly all the same. Long, slender fingers, perfect for playing piano. Guitarist number one, Penny. The one who taught you guitar. And the perfect metalhead, listening to Metallica, Iron Maiden, a bit of Kiss, and other bands alike. She was a senior when you met. She took you under her wing and practically melded you into who you are today. She was never not seen with her guitar. Guitarist number two, Charlotte. A sweet girl, on the shorter side. She loved playing melodies against you or Penny. She was a freshman when you met her. She had one more year of high school. She was also taught by Penny. She was just the sweetest thing, more on the introverted side. And then you, the bassist and middle child of the group. Quiet and talkative with the right people. You were more of a parallel play kind of person, having fun in the middle but not necessarily being a part of the fun. It’s like feeding off the vibes of your band. Being the middle child has its perks. But you’re at your loudest when practicing with the band, or at gigs at the local bar. A never ending smile on your face as your fingers plucked along on your bass. You occasionally swapped guitars with Penny, more so for surprise for the crowd. Often, this earned your band more tips that usual and erupting cheers from the crowd. Most of you guys, the ones who graduated high school, had their drivers licenses, but you were the one that drove everyone around, having the van and all. It was big enough to fit all six of you and equipment. And it was like a tiny, small than studio, apartment for you guys. The back area completed with a bench seat, sat against the side doors, that could fold out into a bed, the small kitchenette opposite of it. The cabinets and storage space offering to pack food, clothes, and the smaller of equipment in the van. Also with your tons and tons of blankets. And the furthest back, empty part of the van, laid a mattress on the floor, pressed up against the back doors. There’s where the comfortable spot in the van was, pillows and blankets crowding the floor. You all played rock paper scissors nightly on the road to see who two would sleep on the mattress.

So that’s what you’ve been doing during your few first nights of Battle of the Bands, parked out in the parking lot where competing bands parked. You guys didn’t have access to the hotel that held the competing bands, not that you knew it was a practically free stay and that the people who were in charge of Battle of the Bands were paying for the housing in that hotel as long as the bands needed it.

With the unknowing free housing, you’d been hauling your equipment from your van to the stage. And you’d done that a few minutes ago, middle of your performance. Your opponent gone before you. You stayed on bass, plucking and pressing the strings. And before you knew it, the performance came to an end. Bowing as the cheers erupted, you turned off and unplugged your equipment, hauling it back to your van. Once settled and changed into cooler clothes, thanks to the Indiana summer, you all head back into the crowd.

You spot the new band. You eyed the bass drum on the drum set, it read Corroded Coffin. Interesting name, you hadn’t heard of them before. You couldn’t help but watch their leader, a electric guitarist with frizzy hair, bouncing around his shoulders as he threw his arm into strumming his strings. His voice had a nice tone to it, soft for a heavy metal band. But the metal and his clear voice melded nicely. It’s almost like you were entranced by the boy, he’s so pretty. His soft features, fluffy hair, and sleeveless shirt to fight off the senseless heat. You could only hope that you’d run into each other by chance.

———

Taglist: @calizmor - as promised <3

[exosmutfactory]

I'm There 001

originally posted by exo-stentialism

Maybe—just maybe—saying yes to Baekhyun’s endearing confession 5 years ago was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made.

2022 Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Story Masterlist | Part 1✓

networks — @/superm-net @/bbh-net @/exowritersnet

pairing — Baekhyun x You

word count — 1.8k

genre — r&b singer! baekhyun, boyfriend! baekhyun, lovers!au, romance, angst, smut (in part 2), and fluff

[ This chapter contains: little angst, fluff, and romance 💞 ]

A/N: Fun fact: I was supposed to write and post this on Jan 1st 2021... Yeah, a whole year of procrastination 💀 let's go! 😄💗✨

⏰💋 I'm There Tag List: 💋⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @you-n-me-e-e @insta1010 @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome @marovekian1 @pearliejoy @loey0491 @jennxx3 @soonvivi @jairahxelle @geniusloey @pvtbbh @baekyeonoreo @you-n-me-e-e @bigbobohu @bubutaeyongie

You hate your job.

No, seriously, you hate it so much. The building, the atmosphere, the people. Oh god, the people are the absolute worst.

All your coworkers do is get into utter bullshitty situations that always end with your whole department being reprimanded by your Director. Especially during the first week of July when festive fireworks are in high demand. If you counted how many orders you have had to rearrange today alone, you would be a billionaire. That’s how stupid all of them are. Why did you have to work with incompetent idiots who don’t even know how to use—let alone access a spreadsheet despite the Excel certificate stated clearly in their resumes?

Yeah, you’re not one to hate anything, but with the emotional drain this warehouse subjects you to on a weekly basis, you’ve reached your inwardly coolheaded limit. The number of times you have sworn your boss’ name up and down these dark corridors during endless after-hours of cleaning up after the daydreaming workers in the cubicles next to you... Thankfully, mind readers don’t exist.

Well, except for him.

The man of your affection who has recently dyed his hair to a jaw-dropping orange hue. Trust him to make you change your mind about hating that god-awful color. There’s no room for hate when you’re tugging fiery locks between your legs.

That’s what he’s good at—switching your opinion on trivial matters. Except for that time you argued over which shade of blue was the best for the curtains in your shared apartment. You wanted bright colors, not ones that would remind you how much your weekdays suck every time you enter your home. Thankfully a store employee had suggested sky blue for a compromise. It made his contrasting locks of hair appear less like an eyesore and more of a balance against the flowing fabric. You’d take small bickers over house decorations than missing files at work any day.

“Baekhoney, I’m home!” You carefully close the front door behind you, locking the dead-bolt with furrowed brows, glancing around the dark house. Isn’t he home? He’d usually be all over you by now, living by his motto of greeting you with a, “welcome home,” kiss. Unless he has a gig tonight… but wouldn’t he have told you? You haven’t heard from him since your short phone call during your lunch break.

Just thinking about the reason why your break got cut short makes your blood boil. You have to put all your focus into not seeing red while tentatively setting your shoes aside. His indoor slippers are missing, so he must be around here somewhere. Probably wearing the sound-canceling headphones that you bought him last Christmas. Not a day goes by where you don’t regret buying him those.

“Baekhyun?” You flick on the light to the hallway, slowly making your way to the slightly ajar door to the left of the master bedroom. The flashing of bright lights and faint crash noises tells you all that you need to know.

You open the door all the way, switching on the room light. An amused smile quirks your lips at the sight of him jumping in his seat, his orange locks of hair fluffing up from the motion.

“Baby?” Baekhyun gasps, yanking the headphones off so quickly a few strands of hair are left around the ear-muffs as he spins around to face you. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” you murmur, leaning against the doorframe with a hand on your hip. “I called for you, but you never answered.”

“Ah…” You’d find his sheepish smile and oversized hoodie endearing if you hadn’t had three different people yell at you for being a minute late on resubmitting edited reports today. “I’m sorry, love. I thought you were working later today.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter, trying to keep your lips from twitching. Just because you had a bad day doesn’t mean you should take it out on him.

“What’s wrong?” Baekhyun’s voice softens, his brown eyes full of concern.

You reel in your emotions, shifting out of the doorway. “Nothing.”

“Hey.” His hand wraps around your wrist before you can leave, gently pulling you into his arms. “What is it? You know you can talk to me.”

“I-” you shake your head, relaxing against him. “It’s-”

“Tell me?” he looks at you with those deep, brown eyes, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“It’s so stupid.” You sigh, looking away from him.

“Baby, look at me.” He tucks his hand under your chin, urging you to face him again. “Your feelings?” he raises a brow, staring deep into your eyes with his serious ones, “are not stupid to me.”

“I…” you’re at a loss for words, your heart stuttering in your chest. He has told you this a million times over the course of your relationship, but it still hits you in your feelings. The emotions you have to keep bottled up just to make it through another day at that place. “Work was hell,” you mutter, your avoidant eyes drifting back to him when he brushes his thumb over your cheek every now and then. “You know how it is.”

“I do.” He agrees, but his eyebrows are furrowed when you lock eyes again. The worry in his brown eyes makes your own start to sting.

“I’ll go shower,” you rush, lowering your head. Hurrying out of the room while blinking rapidly to chase the moisture away.

Baekhyun wraps his arms around your waist before you can escape, hugging your back to his chest and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, resting his chin on your shoulder. It relaxes you instantly, making your heart race. He has always had this calming effect on you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I love you too,” you whisper when his kisses grow more daring, his lips covering your sensitive neck in a path of small, passionate flames. It takes a lot of willpower to gently push him away. You need to wash the smell of dust and the remainder of the day away before you can fall into his alluring arms again.

The walk to the bathroom in your shared bedroom feels endless. You grit your teeth as memories of today cross your mind, souring your mood all over again. If you could quit your job, you would in a heartbeat. That’s how bad it is to be there for you. Every day makes you feel like a ticking volcano waiting to erupt without a warning. But you support Baekhyun’s dreams even more.

Your lips quirk up when you remember how he came into your life 4 years ago. Barreling down the street with 3 excited husky pups in tow while you had just walked out of a coffee shop with 8 cups in your arms. Chaos ensued, but when you were laying within his arms while he apologized profusely for your ruined shirt, you couldn’t be mad at him for long. Not back then, and not here now.

You finish your shower and pull on one of his shirts, coming out of the bathroom feeling much better than you did going in. Finding Baekhyun lounging on your bed, flipping through channels as the smell of vanilla-scented candles hits your nose. Your smile softens and your aching heart soars when he looks up at you with those warm brown eyes. You love this man so much, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Hey,” he smiles at you when you climb into bed, instinctively wrapping his arm around you. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in his cinnamon scent. Hugging him close and throwing a leg over his waist. Baekhyun hums, pulling you closer and running his hand through your hair. The beat of his steady heart chases all of your bad thoughts away. You can face the world a million times over if you get to return home to him every day.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmurs into your hair, curling loose strands behind your ear. You take a while to answer. On one hand, you don’t want to ruin the tranquil bubble you are in, but on the other, you know how bad it gets when you hold everything in.

“Veronica messed up the dates on 40 reports,” you mutter, rolling your eyes when you remember the fake look of confusion on her face. “I had to edit them all and resend them, and had 3 different department directors screaming at me for being a minute late.”

“But that’s not your fault.”

“My job is to send them in.” You shrug, having already had a similar conversation with your boss a thousand times. “I didn’t ‘do my job’ correctly.”

“She didn’t do hers either.”

“I’m the one at the end of the process, B.” You sigh, resting your head on his chest. “If I don’t do my job right, all of it is for nothing.”

“But she messed up-”

“And the director has made it pretty clear that I have to pick up the pieces after her as well.” You don’t even try to suppress your passive-aggressive smile. At the end of the day, you get the blame for everything while doing the work for 1 to 3 people ahead of you in the process of sending in reports to the higher-ups. Your blood boils until Baekhyun’s thumb brushes over your hip. It calms you down in an instant.

“You’re stressed.” He points out.

“That I am,” you joke at your own expense. Baekhyun frowns nonetheless, worry swirling in his brown eyes again. Not even the light from the TV can hide the dimness in his irises. “You should quit, baby. If work has got you to this point, you don’t have to deal with it.”

If only things were that easy… Life is different now. Gone are the days of working on your Bachelor’s degree. You’re fending for yourself out in the real world now. You have your own place and bills to pay. Too many things are at stake for you to quit your job at the factory. The work is hell, but they pay you well enough to stay on top of things and help Baekhyun fulfill his dreams.

He’s a shining star, born to be out there on stage. Performing for hundreds and thousands of people who flock his way. He’s like a magnet; a tempting flame drawing all the moths in. He’s so close to securing a record deal, and you’d watch hell freeze over before taking that away from him.

“I’m fine,” you lift your head, smiling reassuringly at him. Knowing how happy he is and the way his whole face lights up after every performance is all the motivation you need to keep working hard for him. “As long as I have you by my side, I’ll be okay.” You steal his breath with a kiss and press him back into the pillows, melting under his hands caressing your exposed skin.

Part 2 | Part 3 |

A/N: Two more chapters to go~~ <3

[billdecker]

a life update...

i was meant to go to robbie williams’ homecoming gig at vale park this saturday gone. i made the decision a few weeks ago i wasn’t going to go because of covid anxiety and general health stuff. it sucked bc he was my childhood/teen absolute favourite and the last time i saw him i was 11 years old and it was his last tour with take that. i also wanted to go bc i’d be spending time with my mum. despite her living like 10mins away and my dad visiting almost every sunday she NEVER visits. it’s been since christmas 2018?? so i had this nice idea we’d spend some time seeing him and i could take her to see him like she took me to see take that. it sucked and it sucked even more she took my sister to see him when she said she was going to take my dad. 

anyway, she asked me if i wanted anything recording and i said no regrets (teen angst) and angels (my nan loved him too and it was her fav). and i was fine. a bit sad on saturday but i coped. then i was bombarded with videos and pics from her and my sis of different songs. the first i opened was he sang could it be magic. that song was/is my fav TT song. it means a lot. when TT were first around they were pure escapism for me when my dad got made redundant and things were absolute shit as a kid growing up in major’s britain. likeTT were the one thing that made me happy. and as soon as i saw the video i LOST it. i went from feeling like ‘this sucks’ to full blown breakdown where D almost called out family/medical help. 

it didn’t just felt like another thing i’ve lost in my life due to my agoraphobia. i’ve missed plenty of gigs. missed baynton do the play holes. i didn’t even get to visit my nan before she was fine. i’ve rationalised all of this fine. it’s not my fault. but this time i absolutely lost it. i haven’t been that bad in YEARS. like, i didn’t want to be here anymore. what’s the point of my life when i have no life at all? i can’t go out and enjoy things. i don’t see anything or anyone. my own mum won’t even come to see me. i just felt hopeless. 

but then i chatted to a very good friend and i felt better. watching the videos from within the crowd made me feel ill alone. i’m scared of open spaces but also packed crowds like that. the claustrophobia was choking me as i watched the videos. i realised i wouldn’t cope with how loud it is, the bright lights, all of the pissheads surrounding me (my sis said everyone was tanked up), and maybe it’s ok to accept my limitations. it’s difficult when people say you have no life and you’re small minded if you don’t travel or experience things, or that you see people flaunting their lives on social media and you’re just stuck in your flat. if i got some sort of diagnosis then at least i could begin to work towards coping mechanisms. i could live a small life but a happy one. 

i’m not depressed. i know what it’s like to be depressed. i’ve not been on any medication for 11 years now. but when it’s the outside and sensory stuff i just can’t cope. i’m not gonna get an nhs diagnosis any time soon (they’ll just go on about trying to get me to have a gastric band) so i’ve gotta sell most of my jewellery collection to get the money for a private one. but i’m also tentative to do that because 1) it’s a couple of grand and 2) what if i pay that money and they go lol no, you don’t have that diagnosis (we suspect autism from everything). i’ve been misdiagnosed constantly with various mental illnesses since the age of 15 and none of them fit me at all. i’m almost 39. i don’t know if i’d cope again. 

so now three/four days on i’m still completely drained. i’m spending my days zoned out. my drafts post saved is huge because i can’t bring myself to watch any dr who yet to make gifs to put in the queue (my martha gifs have nowhere near the numbers the rose ones did, surprise surprise). today is the first day i feel a bit more myself and i can write this. 

it just all sucks.  i wish i had something nice to tell you all about. 

at least love island is back 

[prettywordsyouleft]

Out Of The Shadows - Part 3

Summary: Singing was the only thing that kept you breathing. To Kihyun, you were too talented to step away from. And by a cruel twist of fate, because of him, you became a singer - except you only sang in the shadows.

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x female reader

Genre: idol au / angst / drama / romance

Warnings: Y/N has a serious injury, and ongoing implications from it that might trigger some people. In this part: showing of injury / past trauma from an accident

Word count: 2148

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | Final

“Y/N’s in her practice space,” Boah mentioned as she fixed the pile of paperwork on her desk after their session together finished.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to visit her today?”

“No, I can’t. I’m busy.”

“Sure seemed to have more than enough time for her beforehand,” she pointed out, and Kihyun reached for his bag, shouldering it and got up.

“Don’t now.”

“Alright,” Boah said with a loud sigh, getting up and stepping in front of the exit, folding her arms across her chest. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Yoo Kihyun, you are a horrible liar, you know. I’ve been helping you since pre-debut. Don’t give me these broody teenager vibes. I thought I was done with them years ago.”

“Ask Y/N then.”

“I did. And you know what? She’s completely shut down. Given her usual approach, I’m now not enjoying being left in the dark. Did you both have a singer’s spat?”

“It has nothing to do with our singing,” he admitted, and Boah’s shoulders relaxed.

Of course, she’d be worried about them both that way.

Kihyun was still reeling from the incident from last week. And since he hadn’t saved your number, he hadn’t been able to talk his feelings out with you either. It had been a long week stewing over it all. Even with Minhyuk’s prying nature into his evident mood, he hadn’t felt like talking about it to others.

Because there was a clear reason you were keeping Kihyun in the dark by getting defensive.

Looking up at his teacher finally, he searched Boah’s expression. She shook her head pre-emptively. “I’m not getting into this.”

“Here you were trying to find out details.”

“Only because out of the pair of you, I know you’re more likely to talk than she is.”

“I don’t want to get into it if you’re not going to tell me what you know.”

“Client confidentiality, Kihyun,” Boah muttered, and Kihyun grew resigned again. Groaning, Boah clasped a hand to her temples, rubbing them slowly before looking at him. “I’m not sure what you both argued about, but if Y/N’s being secretive to you, then there’s a big reason to that. Her life took an unexpected turn six years ago. She’s lucky to be here.”

“What do you mean. Did she get sick?!”

“No—I shouldn’t be telling you any of this!” she moaned, slumping back in her chair.

Sitting back down also, Kihyun leaned forward. “Tell me something so I can understand.”

“She was in an accident. That’s all I’m saying without her consent.”

“Does it still affect her?” he questioned, and Boah nodded. “Physically?”

“Daily, Kihyun.”

“That’s why she doesn’t want to be a singer,” he breathed, and Boah sat still for a moment.

“She desperately wants to be a singer. Every day she’s in here after work, trying to become the best singer she can ever be.”

“Then why did she turn me down?! I was—”

“She’s been rejected already, Kihyun.”

“How?!” he implored, getting agitated. “I don’t get how?! That voice is amazing. Even you say so, and for years, all you told me was that I was decent enough!”

“She physically cannot do what would be needed. The best she can get is paying gigs in restaurants or aged care facilities. And even then, depending on the outfit choice, she’s unable to,” Boah offered sadly, and Kihyun slammed his hand down on the desk in front of him, making Boah jump in fright.

“That’s not good enough!”

“Calm down.”

“Why are you so relaxed?! We could angle her as a ballad singer. Then she doesn’t need to dance.”

“Tried that route.”

“I’m really not seeing the obstacle here! I can’t stand this!”

“Because you haven’t seen it,” a new voice mentioned softly, and Kihyun spun around, his eyes growing wide at you standing there.

Boah edged towards you. “H-how much did you—”

“I guess you’ll be curious forever if I don’t shut you down right now, huh?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to put yourself into an uncomfortable situation to let Kihyun know why,” Boah told you, but you didn’t break eye contact with the man, Kihyun staring back at you just as intensely.

Shutting the door behind you, you swallowed roughly and then reached for the bottom of the hoodie you wore. Pulling it slowly over your head, you let it slip to the ground, watching Kihyun’s eyes round further, and his mouth dropped without knowing it.

You smiled bitterly. “So now you know.”

“Does it hurt?” he whispered, after following your sudden departure from the studio and into your practice space, getting inside before you could lock the door. His phone began to vibrate in his bag, and you both stared at it, Kihyun eventually reaching in and silencing it immediately.

You gasped. “Your manager will be looking for you.”

“I don’t care right now. I asked you something more important.”

Lowering your focus to your exposed arms, you nodded. “It hurts right now.”

“Does it hurt when you sing?”

“Sometimes. But it hurts more when I don’t,” you confessed, and Kihyun stepped closer, his hand lifting towards your fragile-looking skin, stopping just before he touched you.

“Here?”

“No. Here.” Pointing to your heart as tears welled in your eyes, Kihyun swallowed roughly, blinking back his rising emotions quickly.

He didn’t want you to think he pitied you.

“You’re so strong.”

“Am I? I hide away from everyone in this room. I hardly face anything these days.”

“You’re still trying your best,” he told you firmly, and you finally looked up at him, the moment supercharged between you.

You nodded distantly eventually. “That’s what the doctors said. Just to try and get through life as best as I can. You’re doing great, Y/N. Am I? It’s so infuriating.”

“Boah said you tried to audition. Was it before or after this?” he questioned cautiously, and you smiled sadly.

“You can say it properly, Kihyun. I was in a fire. My left side is worse than my right.”

“Your left side? You mean it’s more than just on your arms?” he asked, his gaze lowering to the rest of your body.

You reached for your pants’ waistband. “Should I take it all off?”

“No! No. I mean, no, it’s okay. Gosh. I just don’t know what to say.”

“That’s exactly why I hide it. I guess it’s a blessing from the shoulders up that I’m completely normal looking. When you didn’t know, you didn’t have any problems talking to me.”

“I’m not going to stop,” he reaffirmed, and you were taken aback, staring at him to decipher what he meant. Kihyun smiled softly. “You’re you. Okay, so I’m really overwhelmed right now. And feeling like an absolute asshole for how much I pushed you before—”

“You pushed me because you believe in me.”

“I still do.”

“Yeah but now you’re retracting that push because I’m scarred from the hottest flames I’ve ever experienced.”

He shook his head. “I’d push for you even knowing this.”

“Really?” you asked, unconvinced.

“I would. If you want it, I’d push for you to get there. No matter what it takes.”

You sighed. “A shame I’m never going to stop being damaged goods. I couldn’t handle that life. Most of my burns were only second-degree ones, but it hasn’t been easy to heal from. Some fabrics bother my skin, so I can’t wear whatever I’d have to as a singer, and I can’t really go around showing all this either. People just stare at my blotchy, discoloured skin. Every audition I went to, I was asked to take off my baggy clothes so they could get a feel for my body shape. Even if I was skinnier, no one would take on a burn’s victim. Unless they were cruel and wanted to use my story to propel me into the public eye using pity tactics for sales.”

“I couldn’t let anyone do that to you.”

You laughed. “What are you? My big bad protective idol bodyguard or something?”

Kihyun grinned. “I could be if you want me to be. And my members too. We’d show everyone what the monster part in our name really means.”

“Oh, God. The imagery,” you replied with a scrunch to your nose, shaking your head. “No thanks.”

“What did you think of?” he mused, and you leaned away from his close proximity and shook your head again. “Ah, damn Changkyun and that line he used about us in that interview.”

“You remember that? After countless interviews?”

Kihyun shrugged. “Best to keep tabs of what people might hold against you.”

“The fans like it, I’m sure.”

“Are you a fan?”

You stepped back again, your cheeks flaming. “Listen, you’re really all over the place right now.”

“Sue me for being overwhelmed.”

“Thank you for not acting like I’m a freak,” you suddenly stated, looking back at him, the amusement gone from your gaze. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re you, Y/N,” he told you again, gently reaching out to smooth down your hair and cup your head in his palm. “It’s hard for someone like me to meet people who get me. Whilst we’re still new friends, I value you a great deal.”

“Such a charmer with your words,” you muttered, and Kihyun chuckled.

“I am kind of good at it, huh?”

“Just a little,” you agreed with a smile.

“I’m probably going to be in heaps of trouble by now,” Kihyun said with a cringe, lowering his hand from your head. “I better go appease my manager and make up for stalling the schedule. But… are we good?”

“Good, how?”

“No longer arguing? We can go back to singing together next week?” he asked nervously, and you nodded.

“You better come prepared to belt out some notes with me. We need to catch up on the session we missed today.”

“You know me. Always ready to sing with you,” he offered, watching your smile grow shy. He liked that he could still do that to you.

“Go before I have an even guiltier conscience of ruining your schedule.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, Y/N. But before I go…” He trailed off, pulling his phone out and cleared all the messages and missed calls from his notifications. Opening up his contacts, he then held the device out to you. “Can we be like normal friends and exchange numbers? It kind of bothered me that I couldn’t contact you about how I left things last time.”

“Same,” you confessed, reaching out and punching in your number before handing it back. Kihyun pressed call, and your phone started to vibrate on the table.

He grinned. “I’ll message you later?”

“Tell me what your punishment is,” you mused, waving him off, and Kihyun stepped out of your practice room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Holding his phone over his heart for a moment, he regathered his emotions before walking calmly down to the waiting room.

He hadn’t seen Joonhyung thunderous often. At least, not because of him anyway. However, he had seen it before and didn’t like seeing it now. “I swear I have a genuine reason for why I broke every rule in the idol-manager handbook right now.”

“You better. And you need to explain to the others too. You’re holding up practice right now.”

I had to do 100 push-ups.

Watching as the read ticket appeared, Kihyun leaned towards his phone and lost focus on the mirrors he was cleaning.

Is that all? I thought they’d withhold dinner too.

Chuckling, Kihyun hurried to reply with that he hadn’t eaten yet because he was in charge of cleaning the studio too.

“She better be worth it,” a voice mentioned, and Kihyun frowned at Minhyuk’s comment. “What? All I’m saying is you’re never this late if you can help it. And you scold Hyungwon when he’s only ten minutes late.”

“I was on time today too,” the member in question stated from across the studio, and Kihyun groaned.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Do tell us what we’re thinking,” Hyunwoo offered with a smile, and Kihyun shook his head.

“She’s a singer.”

“Ohhh! How high does she make your falsetto go?” Jooheon teased, and Kihyun folded his arms across his chest in annoyance.

“You met her at vocal training?” Changkyun surmised, and Kihyun nodded.

“She’s a friend. A very talented friend.”

“What’s her name? I’ll look her up,” Minhyuk asked curiously, holding up his phone.

“You won’t find her like that,” Kihyun answered with a sigh, looking at his members. “Guys, what should I do? I envisioned being able to sing with Y/N on stage, at least just once. But it’s not going to be a reality.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he started with another sigh, looking at your cheerful response to his message, his mind thinking back to when you pulled off your hoodie earlier. “It will hurt her to.”

_________________

Part 4

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[MONSTA X Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[jiminrings]

Can I request a drabble, hobi is kinda like a band singer and Y/N is like his old time friend and they like had a falling out bc he got super successful but years after they're like together again? IS IT TOO SPECIFIC UHM :")

parallel

pairing: hoseok x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: hobi’s kind of an asshole and is vERY much emotionally repressed, y/n’s serotonin is dependent on wearing bridesmaid gowns, the dwindling one-sided pining anD the everlasting question of where the fuck was hoseok when you needed him :D // gif is from pinterest!

notes: this drabble really hits close to home and tysm for the request babe!! even if i’m a month late yeesh :O

you can’t believe yourself either when you say it

but holy shit — weddings are definitely your thing!

there’s something about the union of marriage that gets your head into overdrive but in a gOOD way

there’s just something so pulling about last-minute changes and family drama and awkward trips to the restroom that make your mind mHMMMM THIS IS IT CHIEF

yea granted that not every wedding you go and participate in isn’t exactly straight out of a rom-com

lmao sometimes it’s so obvious that the bride doesn’T love the groom but hey!!! who’s keeping tabs :D

you love wedding environments so much that here you are, two years out of uni and a couple of gigs later — couples are LITERALLY fighting over you

heh not to brag but uh

you weren’t recognized as best wedding planner for two years in a row and have your face in multiple covers of bridal magazines and such

time magazine recognized you as one of the most influential people in the scene last year but hey !!!!! no big deal lads

“i am asking you for just one minute, y/n!! stop being a wedding planner and start being my maid of honor!!”

nayeon exasperates and tugs you by your sleeve, having already noticed your second nature of taking charge the moment you entered the hall

after all, this is just cake tasting! that’s why she’s brought her maid of honor to help her out, nOT immediately go fishing for a clipboard

“well if the planner you hired wasn’t so sloppy-...” it’s a fact! he relies too much on his tablet and doesn’t even have any paper with him, and even if he’s already using a tablet, he doesn’t even use different colors to mark out!

apparently nayeon can’t handle the truth because she’s stamping her hand to your mouth that’s already a frown, about to suffocate you if only you didn’t bite it

>:|

y/n - 1 | jisoo’s hand - 0

you’re just a lil bit cranky alright

the last wedding you’ve catered to was just three days ago, and well you’re thankful for your job!!! really!!! bc not everyone is as booked as you nor sought-for

but there’s something about her wedding that puts you off :((

she’s very kindly yet firmly told you that no, you would absolutely not be her wedding planner and coordinator

“b-but i-“

“i want you to relax! and it’s-...”

“we said-“

“we said when we were kids that we’d plan each other’s wedding, but we didn’t swear on it! and i want you to-...”

“y-you told-“

“i told you that we didn’t have a wedding planner yet so you’d intentionally clear your schedule for me! and here we are-...”

“i’ll cry-“

“aww you big baby, save it for the wedding! i told you, just relax, m’kay? let yoongi handle the planning, and you do the unwinding.”

goddamn yoongi

yoongi who’s a wedding planner in his sPARE time could fuck right off

you don’t care if he’s very persuasive and firm and happened to book nayeon’s wedding even it was peak season :((

you don’t wanna admit it, but being a wedding planner has basically been your personality trait for the past years and it’s hard to cope when your job is to not.... plan and worry

anyways besides that

you’re a little iffy because nayeon’s wedding is your wake-up call

you’ve been planning weddings.... but uh when the FUCK is yours

u are so tempted to put a sock over your head and just yell gIVE ME A RING!!! PUT IT IN THE BAG

unfortunately, you don’t even have someone in your life to readily propose to you

you would have had someone, actually —

if only hoseok didn’t wake up one day and decide to remove you from his life

if only your childhood friend didn’t suddenly decide that you’re not worthy of his attention and time!!!

god he thinks he’s a bigshot

and well yea ok he IS a bigshot

who doesn’t know jung hoseok at this point :((

you’ve always figured that he’d be successful at whatever path he chooses and for a moment, you feel sorry for him that he’s stuck in such a state of mundaneness

he’s stuck between home and school and since he has no choice — you

your each other’s day one!!! the moment your mom went home from the hospital, her first instinct was to knock on hoseok’s mom’s door and then iMMEDIATELY present you to her

the two of them are absolute best friends and why not make our babies the same way ya know????

the two of you were apparently so close as babies that when one was crying, the other would comfort

and you weren’t even a year old then????

you’ve shared cribs and milk bottles and clothes and everything in between with hobi

so why is it that when you’re just almost at the peak of your life with graduation, he just suddenly decides to drop you?

he’s suddenly too cool for you as if he hasn’t spent countless nights crying on your shoulder for any inconveniece that gets brought up

he can’t even meet your eyes :(((

that’s why graduation is the blandest and emptiest day you could recall

hoseok is over there with his bandmates looking the absolute hAPPIEST and you’re there by the corner.,.,. alone by yourself feeling like your cap has the words dropped by jung hoseok :D all over it

he’s at his peak and at the top of his life performing and touring, whenever and wherever

he’s happy

but without you in it :(

the irrational (and probably rational) part in your head is beyond infuriated at him because atleast offer an explanation!!! if you did wrong at one point, then he should tell you!!!

not suddenly pretend that you were nEVER in his life

even his mom feels guilty and ashamed over his son’s actions so she orders flowers from the shop signed underneath your company, then send it back to you

for awhile she tried to pretend that it was hoseok but no :((( that man will physically convulse if he doesn’t add (atleast) three hearts after his name

you hate him so much that you still religiously visit his instagram and wonder if he could see your likes despite a couple other million liking the same posts

you hate him so much that he’s number one on every single thing in your spotify wrapped 

you hate him sO much that you wonder who’s behind the songs his band plays and how you’d wish that you’d be the one he’s writing about

“is the cake that... perfect?”

nayeon gently places a hand on your shoulder to which you flinch and she backs off because christ i’m nOT taking the cake away from you!!!

oh my god why are you tearing up

“yeah, yeah! it’s so good. you should try it nayeon!” you’re scrambling to scrape up your plate, almost shoving the fork into her mouth as she squeals with the sudden attack

yoongi has ???? hovering around his head but this is nOT about you my man

he sneaks a look to the bride’s plate and uh-huh... yup..... she has the same moist chocolate fudge cake with coffee ganache on her alright

the topic of hoseok that you bring up to yourself, one that no one knows (not even nayeon!!!), is just something that never seems to vacate your mind fully

it’s been two years and you’re still so touchy and you dON’T KNOW WHY

he probably doesn’t even think about you when he’s drunk and bored

“this champagne must be so... nice?”

nayeon thinks out loud as you’re once again crying into doing your maid of honor duties

she’s a lil worried if she’s being honest but you always whisk her away when she’s about to ask

like right now :D

“are you-...”

“i just can’t believe you’re getting married!! wow, you’re so cool. with the love of your life. then the two of you could be cool together after the wedding. you aren’t gonna forget me once you’re married, are you? nayeon do you think that i would ever be married-...”

you should just accept it now :((

you’re a little bit of a mess and a half underneath your pantsuits and walkie-talkies and the special pride you’d carry whenever the couple mentions you in their wedding speeches

absolutely WHY in the hell do you think about hoseok when it comes to weddings???

it’s almost a pavlovian response when you instruct the people to open the doors and the bride to start walking and your mind would iNSTANTLY think about him

it’s sometimes awkward when the couple would ask ah !!!! ms. y/n u are such a world-renowned wedding planner !!!! your own wedding must’ve been magnificent :D

aha actually about dat.,.,

you get tons of gifts of gratitude from just a single client alone and you don’t have hoseok and his stupidly powerful arms to help carry boxes back to your car

you don’t have him to give untouched and left-over flowers to

you don’t have him to remind you when you’re getting a little ahead of yourself over just talking to sponsors and trying to squeeze in as much as you could for an initial budge

you don’t have hoseok, in all his glory, to put his hand on the small of your back when you’re talking to how you need the fireworks to start the moment the band starts playing ice ice baby and the vendor does nOT need to know why it’s the song chosen by the couple

it’s what he’d do when you’re trying to fit two semesters’ worth of notes into a pricey A3 notebook that you’ve bought 

and just how many weddings do you plan and coordinate, even within just a span of two week?

:)

a lot.

often.

you think about hoseok a lot. often. oftenly a lot.

but aha nOT TODAY!!!

today’s nayeon’s wedding and you’re not gonna ruin it for her by projecting your yearning into your best friend’s wedding that clearly isn’t yours

10/10 she’d probably stop reciting her vows to ask you why you’re sniffling

your only source of distraction is your gown!!!

your maid of honor is the absolute pRETTIEST and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel gorgeous in it

it’s floor-length silk!!! fLOOR-LENGTH !! SILK !! GOWN

it’s in a deep mauve with an off-shoulder situation and a little risqué bit of cleavage!!! cinches right at the top of your waist and poofs a little and oh my god mayhaps you aRE pretty

god hoseok may have not written you a song, but sean kingston dEFINITELY did

nayeon knew you’d be catching everyone’s attention as much as her wedding dress would and she’s absolutely happy and fine with it!! 

in fact she’s strategically practiced her throws for her bouquet so you’d catch it and your gown would nOt go to waste

having a wedding happen right where you are, but being in it as a guest instead of a planner, is just so much... calmer

you’re not fixing the chaos but you’re just watching it!!! if you feel a little more bubbly then you’re gonna partake in it hee-hee

yoongi’s actually not so bad

he could just be a little too lax which ends up with him being lost and distraught 

you could see so much of you in him when you were just starting out and it’s endearing actually

(( nayeon’s told you in passing that she once told yoongi that you were her best friend and he looked both intimidated and awed at the same time ))

the only thing you help yoongi with is sending him a thumbs-up every now and then and he perks uP because that’s the signal that he’s doing a good job and not fucking up

nayeon looks so beautiful and you’re already tearing up fixing her veil :((

you know how wedding photographers and videographers LOVE people crying???? they r probably eating your shit up so quick that you won’t be surprised if you take up atleast half of the same-day edit of their wedding film

there’s something so serene about the hecticness everyone’s indulged themselves in

you’re grinning when you walk down the aisle because you realize that omg you haven’t doNE this in a long time!!! 

the last time you did was testing out the aisle for a client that wanted it ala crazy rich asians and you had to walk back and forth cOLD-ASS water with damp rolled-up pant cuffs before they got the temperature and the levels right

nah you should definitely know how it’d be because after all :D you aRE the consultant for that scene in crazy rich asians :D no biggie :D

it’s such a serene blast to see everyone happy and in their element

you’re sitting the reception out bc yoongi very kindly pleaded to please give him notes and promising that he’d never tell it to anyone else

the whole planning process for nayeon and not oNCE did he bring a notebook..,., but he just hAPPENS to have one when you’re telling him how to say no to your client

“listen, you have to tell them in the sincerest way possible, that you tried everything. it gets them going when you tell them that you even pleaded with the vendors, but don’t go too low on your knees, alright? and then after that, you say a strict no. no, because their choice of flowers is absolutely sHIT for their tie-dye theme they’re so adamant about!”

yoongi has never listened so intently

not even when his roommate lists out their grocery checklist

“mhmm. and if they still push, should i give them an ultimatum? or tell them about a wedding that totally happened that did exactly what they were planning, and how much the guests hated it?”

okay nOW he’s talking

“what you do is...”

the buzz of the reception never really dies down because it’s barely even starting!! the couple’s still finishing up on their pictorial which gives everyone time to get to the venue and freshen up or get last-minute gifts lmao

you know that it’s starting when the band or the dj starts doing polished mic checks

mic check! one, two, three! sKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRA

no, no 

there’s something definitely wrong

the rolling and the lull of routine words just seem so familiar

mic check! J-A-Y! H-O-P-E! J-HOPE! jung-...

oh

my

fucking

gOD

that’s hoseok.

that is most dEFINITELY hoseok

you turn your back to see the stage set-up and god...... fuck

it’s someone you haven’t seen in the flesh for two years yet spent the years of your life with before that 

he looks sickening in his black mandarin-collared suit with thick white lining on it wITH his hair styled up and parted to the site

it’s even more sickening for you because you don’t actually know if you can mANAGE to be here

you’re standing up abruptly and yoongi squawks at that because he is the furthesT thing from being finished about asking how to make the guests arrive on time without holding a field trip assembly-like type of line with the megaphone

the fastest way out was dashing through the front part and you must have forgotten that hoseok has a knack for catching things with his perfectly good eyesight

“y/n?” 

ok what now

he mumbles your name to the mic, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes trail the speed-walking speck of mauve from in front of him 

his little question to himself must have gotten people more than curious

they’re already mORE than curious because it’s his goddamn band that’s playing!!!! and the fees are not cheap and it’s practically impossible to book them!!!

but jungkook, their drummer, was a close friend of the groom’s and alright.,.,. okay maybe we CAN play at weddings now

ok hoseok’s mind is probably just playing tricks on him and he should finish setting up before the lights dim again for what they insist is the 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

but then he can’t help but look oNE last time

then he sees the watch he’s gifted you on his wrist — one that he was supposed to give you at graduation but later made his mom give it to you instead and not say that it was from him

...

....

whew he might need his inhaler for this one and he doesn’t even hAVE asthma

oh my god what the hELL is hoseok doing here????

you haven’t seen him for two years, and the moment you do, it’s in your best friend’s wedding with no date present??

you’re clearly panicking and the only form of caffeine you’ve gotten is the pre-game of getting a few bites from the coffee ganache in nayeon’s wedding cake that she was munching on while getting her makeup done

you know what!! it’s fine

it’s totally fine :D

hoseok is just hoseok and you’re not gonna be intimated by the man you’ve been loving in the sidelines from practically your whole life :D

it’s not a big deal!

besides, people are looking for you bc you’re supposed to give the opening toast to welcome nayeon and her groom in

you’re walking, you’re talking, aaaaaaaand-

yeah this is not nOT a big deal

you’re crumbling from the inside out because seeing hoseok is just too painful after two years of wondering where you could’ve went wrong and what could’ve happened if the two of you didn’t fall out

you feel especially bitter when hoseok starts singing their famous song about love and everything in between

everyone’s sWOONING and on their feet and you’re literally just there vibrating with how furious you are

you keep downing the good champagne as iF it’s gonna get you drunk

yoongi has a clue that the server must be a little dizzy having to go and back forth to your table so he just offers his portion to you

you’re so goddamn busy and absorbed with loathing him that you don’t even turn your back to notice that his eyes keep flickering to you

even at the cheesiest lyric, hobi expects that you’d atleast LOOK at him for that one but nOOOO your champagne flute and the blondie beside you is just much more interesting

you’re buzzing with anger that you aren’t enjoying this reception At All

you fail to even recognize that nayeon’s intentionally had your favorite food to be served!!! and you have an extra portion delivered to your table!!!

you just want your suffering to eND wow absolutely how much longer could this go

you’re so busy with cussing the whole ordeal in your head that you didn’t even notice how the band isn’t playing anymore and instead everyone’s swooning over the cake

it’s lost in you that hoseok’s shooed yoongi from his chair, sitting right beside you and even scooting closer until his knees bump to your own

and that’s when it sinks in

hobi doesn’t even have time to tell you how beautiful you look because you’ve gone straight to seething him

“for the record, i want you to know that i hate you.”

...

:O

okay hoseok didn’t expect that

for all he knows, the two of you even vOWED to never say the h word even if it’s meant jokingly!!

it’s a lethal word and the two of you collectively agreed to never play with it in regards to saying to one another

but well here you are

you’re saying it as if you’ve never been more sure of anything in your whole life

you feel actually relieved to say it to him right to his face, a miniscule weight lifted from your shoulders while your arms are crossed just by looking at him

hoseok does you one better with a timid chuckle, looking down on his rings that he’s fiddling with nervously

“yeah. i hate me too.”

.... oh

you’re perplexed at his reply so much so that you’re speechless

you’ve been keeping to yourself what you should say to him the moment you see him for two years and now that he agrees to what you’ve just said.,.,.,

oh fuck that

“i hate you so much, hoseok! i don’t even know what i did wrong and i asked even your own mother what’s wrong with me! did you know that you are, without a doubt, so fucking selfish???”

you exclaim as quietly as you could but that doesn’t stop people from glancing because the two most-known people in the room, besides the bride and groom, are having what seems to be an... intimate conversation with how close the two of you are??

“did you even try once to consider how painful it was for me to wonder why i just am the way that i am? or is that even too big of an inconveniece for you to think about because you’re so busy?”

“did you suddenly get too big for me, huh?” you ask straightly without malice, not even thinking about the double meaning because clearly, you’re too PRESSED lightly jabbing your finger to his chest

right he deserves that

hoseok’s fucked up big-time, that much he knows

his eyes are actually stinging right now and he would ask you for your handkerchief that you used to always carry for him but uH he thinks he doesn’t deserve any of that

“why couldn’t you just tell me what was in your mind? you know that nothing would change whatever it was that-”

“i love you, okay?”

hoseok interrupts you with his mumble before he sets his eyes down once again on your watch

you’re speechless for long this time

“..... w-what?”

okay maybe he fucked up even more

“listen i-...”

“if you love me, a single text wouldn’t have hurt, hobi!!”

your chest doesn’t hurt anymore but it iS constricting with the amount of emotions and scenarios you’re trying to process

he’s kinda lost because oh my god you aren’t mAD anymore!!

and you don’t look fazed that he just declared his love for you

“i dropped you because i-i — i don’t want the people i love seeing me fuck up, y’know? i finished uni for the sake of it, and i didn’t even know if the band thing would work out!!”

“but baby it dID work out!!!!”

jesus christ hoseok may be a fucking iDIOT

you’re shaking him by the shoulders and he actually has to stand up so he wouldn’t fall by your ministrations

you feel so happy because your processing was just about to be finished, equal parts relieved and happy and maybe a tiny bit confused still

“it did work out because look at you now!! hobi, you could’ve just called me and i would’ve accepted the call before it even rings!!” you’re happily frustrated with him that you push him until the two of you are in the dance floor, his mouth curving up both in disbelief and giddiness

“i didn’t because i thought-...”

he’s interrupted by a swift and tight hug to his middle, his arms moving on their own to envelope you in his warmth

the top of your head still smells the same :D

his purpose is lost before he gathers his bearings once again, freezing in his stance before weakly attempting to push you off

“... you were married.”

the harsh sQUINT of your eyes you’re giving him prompt him to explain

why is he so nervous

“i-i go to your instagram? and well you uh, you posted this pic of you in the middle of the aisle???? you had your back turned and your silhouette’s seen then you were holding a bouquet!!! then after that, i-i never opened your account. jesus christ, is your husband here with you, y/n? what am i supposed to-...”

the realization’s starting to sink into hoseok because it’s something he’s shoved to the back of his head and now he’s seeing it straight-on

you’re throwing your head back laughing at him :D

great

now he’s both heartbroken AND a fool

there’s a gentle kiss on his cheek, one he didn’t expect and one he doesn’t hate

“i’m a wedding planner.”

god now this is just so fucking funny

the two of you fell out and remained distanced because of just a series of unprecedented miscommunications!!! 

the whole thing is so ridiculous that it actually feels light and relieving to talk about

“you’re.... a wedding planner,” he mumbles once again for confirmation, his loose arms around your waist now tightening

oh my god

hoseok starts chuckling to himself out of delight, turning to full-on cackles with you at how much the two of you have just been beside each other like parallel lines

“i need to make up the past two years to you.”

he declares seriously as a promise, pressing a tender wet kiss to your cheek that gets you giggling

“only if you write me a song,” you do him one better, kissing him on the corner of his mouth 

“don’t you know that most of them are about you? anyways, you should plan our wedding once it happens,” he’s forward with his words, having waited long enough that he nuzzles his nose to yours

:D

you’re gonna do him one even better

you’re gonna go right for the kill, the truth spilling out of you before you kiss him longingly, for the first time that it feels that it’s been something you’ve always yearned for

“don’t you know that you’re in my mind for every single one?”

[kasienda]

Right Behind You - Chapter 1: Scandal

An Adrino Story - Friends to lovers Maybe the person you need is not the one you’ve had your eye on, but the one who’s been right behind you supporting you the whole time.  Chapter 1: Scandal Nino was awake.

Which was a crime.

His gig the previous evening hadn’t ended until well past four in the morning, and glancing at the glowing clock next to his bed it wasn’t even eight yet. He had managed maybe two hours of sleep.

And he could feel it everywhere in his body. The light peeking through the edges of his blackout curtains felt like an assault on his dry and irritated eyes. His left knee ached from a week-old injury caused by a bad landing during one of Carapace’s patrols. Even his thoughts felt like they were smothered in a thick cold fog.

He hated when the all night events hit on back to back days, but he needed the double pay at least a few times a month to afford his downtown Parisian apartment and without fail the requests for such events tended to land on the same weekend. No doubt, it would be worth it in a few hours. Once he had a cup or three of coffee. 

Or another five hours of sleep.

But his phone clearly had other plans as the blasted digital brick wouldn’t stop buzzing every few minutes. 

Nino left it in the other room every night to avoid this exact scenario, but he must have left it on some plastic container because the vibration was loud. And whoever this was, they were very insistent.

He sat up with a groan, very aware of the dull ache that stretched from one temple to the other. He let his head hang lifelessly to his chest.

The phone went off again. He glared through the open doorway. 

“I’ll make coffee.”

Nino tried to smile at the tiny green floating kwami, but it came out more like a grimace. “Thanks, Wayzz. You’re the best.”

He gave himself five minutes of just sitting with his blankets still wrapped luxuriously around him protecting against the chill of the morning. The phone had mockingly gone silent after almost ten minutes of near constant buzzing. He contemplated letting his head fall back to the pillows. But it was probably too late. Despite his fatigue, Nino was rarely able to go back to sleep.

He reached blindly to the small table beside his bed for his glasses, and then stumbled through his small apartment to the kitchen. Wayzz was already pouring black coffee into a cup.

Nino smiled at the ridiculous sight of the floating green creature handling an object twice its own size. It didn’t even look strange to him anymore. Really, Nino was unsure how he had ever gotten by without the constant support of the ancient kwami. 

He stepped forward to accept custody of the steaming beverage. He added a spoon of sugar and creamer. Before he could take his first sip, the blasted phone went off again.

Alya’s gleaming smile lit up his screen. He frowned at the device and immediately answered, even as he continued mixing his coffee. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“How do you do that?” her synthetic voice demanded from the other end of the line.

“Al, except for my birthday, you haven’t called me in two years,” he stated flatly. Why was she even asking? They texted quite often, and whenever she was back in Paris they usually would have lunch or hang out with their mutual friends. But ever since their break up, she had not called. 

Well, except for his birthday.

“And today is not my birthday. And it’s barely morning! You know that I’m never up before ten at the earliest and twelve is really a better bet. And you’ve been blowing up my phone clearly trying to get my ass out of bed. So I ask again, what is wrong?” he said slowly, emphasizing each word before he licked the spoon he was using to mix his coffee.

“Have you talked to Adrien lately?” 

His stomach dropped. This must be really bad news. Alya didn’t usually beat around the bush. She was more like a bulldozer that went straight through things. And if this was about Adrien… “Like three days ago. Why?”

His phone buzzed against his cheek immediately. He pulled it away to see the headline she sent him. 

Supermodel, Adrien Agreste, batting for the other team?

Keep Reading on Ao3

He already hated it, but that didn’t stop him from tapping on the link. Nino sucked in air at the sight of the picture. Nino has seen a lot of professional shots of Adrien over the years. This picture was gorgeous. Or, it would have been in absolutely any other context. 

The picture captured three quarters of Adrien’s face, but only a bit of his partner. His hair caught the light and gleamed gold, not quite as perfectly in place as it would have been in the morning. Like he had run his hands through it just a few times. His normally peach cheeks were dusted with pink and his eyes were closed. He was pulling away from a kiss with a fair-skinned man wearing glasses. But Nino’s eyes focused on his friend’s mouth. Adrien’s lips were upturned in the slightest little smile - the dopey one he had whenever he was talking about the mystery girl he loved.

And that was the only difference between all the professional shots Nino had seen over the years and the front page tabloid. In this picture, Adrien looked… happy. Genuinely so.

And now, that beautiful private moment was now plastered all over every gossip rag from one side of France to the other. 

Likely without Adrien’s permission. 

How unfair that one little moment of indiscretion outed him to all of Paris. 

Nino’s gut twisted painfully. 

All of Paris included Gabriel. Adrien had never told his father about being bi, and it was no wonder as the uptight bastard was an ice statue of propriety with absolutely no feelings. 

“It wasn’t at an event, Nino,” Alya explained. “It’s around the corner from that pub we used to frequent after lycee, almost in an alley outside a club. But the photo’s too good for some random person to have just seen him walking by at this time of day. The lighting should have been terrible and the photo grainy.”

“So?”

“The photographer knew Adrien was going to be there and that there'd be something worth taking a picture of.”

“Shit,” he cursed, his free hand gripping his own shoulder. “I gotta go.” 

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thanks, Al, for calling. He never would.”

“I know. I might be terrible at keeping in touch, but maybe we could schedule a catch up?”

In spite of the circumstances, he found himself smiling. “I would like that. When are you back in Paris?”

“I’m here now actually. When else do I read trashy gossip rags?”

He laughed. “Fair. How long are you in town for?” 

“Just the long weekend, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone because I didn’t have a whole lot of time and I’m going to be back for like six months in just a few weeks. Then, I read this, and well…”

“Yeah, thanks for the head’s up.”

“Sorry for waking you up so early.”

“You already know this was worth it to me. Thank you.”

“Of course, Nino. Anytime. Now, go track down a certain unfairly attractive supermodel, and make sure he’s okay. I’ll start researching who this bastard is and see if I can ruin his day.”

Nino laughed. Alya was protective of her friends, and positively vindictive. It was a scary combination. But Nino had always loved that about her.

“Nino?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell him I love him, too. He’s not alone.”

He smiled again. “I’ll tell him. Thanks again, Al,” and then he ended the call.

He drained his coffee though it was still too hot. Because he definitely didn’t have time to nurse it, and he definitely was going to need the caffeine rush today. He then immediately called Adrien. 

His friend didn’t answer, so Nino called again because there was no way in hell Adrien wasn’t doom scrolling through feeds obsessing over this story.

And again.

On the fifth try Adrien finally answered.

“Did it ever occur to you that when someone doesn’t answer it might mean they don’t want to talk?”

Nino shook his head, put the call on speaker, and thudded back to his bedroom to find clothes he could wear in public. “Never in your case, dude! Where are you? I’m coming over.”

“You don’t have to,” Adrien objected. “What are you even doing up? Didn’t you have an event last night? I was counting on you sleeping until noon!” 

“It went late. I never went to sleep,” Nino lied. He didn’t want to mention Alya’s call or plan for revenge yet, or admit to a monster headache. If he did, Adrien wouldn’t let him come over. 

“You don’t have to come listen to my sob story,” Adrien insisted. “Get some sleep. This isn’t important. It was my own fault. I was stupid.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Where are you?” He pulled a white t-shirt over his head, and placed the phone back to his ear. 

Adrien remained silent on the other end. 

“Dude, if you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll call Chloé and Kagami for back up in tracking you down.”

There was a sigh over the phone. “I’m at the hotel.”

“Room number?”

“427.”

“Be there in fifteen,” Nino promised. He jumped into a pair of khakis, kissed the brim of his red hat before slipping it over his head, and went straight out the door.

“Fifteen minutes is cutting it a little close, young master,” Wayzz chided from his left shoulder.

Nino had long stopped trying to get Wayzz to drop the title. The creature was as stubborn as he was old.

“Not if we take the superhero express.”

Wayzz’s disapproving frown did nothing to dissuade Nino from his plans.

Adrien needed him.

…

The door whipped open barely a second after Nino’s knuckles had knocked. For a second, neither of them spoke. Nino studied Adrien’s face carefully for signs of upset. His friend’s eyes were bloodshot as if he’d been up all night, but they weren’t puffy, so he probably at least hadn’t been crying. And his lips were curled into a relieved smile.

Nino returned the expression before pulling Adrien into a hug.

“How did you get here so fast?” Adrien mumbled into Nino’s shoulder.

Nino pulled away, and followed Adrien into the small hotel room. “Trade secret,” he deflected, hoping the humor had Adrien rolling his eyes instead of insisting on an explanation.

Maybe Wayzz’s paranoia was somewhat justified. Not that Nino had any regrets. Adrien didn’t push, and instead immediately fell backwards on the pristinely made bed. His friend clearly hadn’t even attempted to get any sleep last night. His green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

Nino flopped on the bed next to him, lying perpendicular with their heads side by side. 

“So why the hotel?”

Adrien snorted. “The studio has paparazzi.”

“You could’ve crashed my place.”

“But you weren’t there.”

Nino’s head rolled towards his best friend. “So? You have a key.”

Adrien’s gaze remained glued to the ceiling. ”Maybe I’m just embarrassed and didn’t want to explain anything.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Nino said. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. But I’m here. And if you do want to talk, I’m here for that, too.”

And then Nino just waited, listening to Adrien’s uneven breathing. He suspected Adrien did want to talk. But it remained silent longer than Nino would have expected under the circumstances. And Nino was blissfully comfortable next to Adrien’s warmth and familiar presence and Nino’s caffeine boost was fading fast. He quickly found himself nodding off. 

“Promise you won’t judge?”

Nino started awake. 

“Nino?” Adrien rolled onto his side toward Nino.

“Yeah?” Nino responded, trying to disguise the crack in his voice. 

“You fell asleep, didn’t you?” Adrien observed dryly.

“No!” Nino denied for all he was worth.

Adrien sighed, returning to his back. “I told you that you didn’t have to come.” 

Nino shook his head. “Come on! Admit it. You wanted me to be here.” 

Adrien sat up on the bed. Nino met his green-eyed gaze easily. “Yeah…” Adrien admitted. “I did.”

Nino gave a slight nod. “So, I’m here.” 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… I hate being high maintenance.” 

“You’re not high maintenance,” Nino said gently for what had to be the millionth time over the last ten years. “Your asshole father just has you brainwashed into believing you have to handle it all yourself. But you don’t. And today, you’re having a bad day, so I’m here.”

“A horrible day!” Adrien agreed. “And it’s only just started.” 

Nino sat up, spun his legs to be at Adrien’s side, and then shoulder bumped his friend. “So, let me make the rest of it better.”

Adrien grinned. “Thank you. Thank you for being here.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, mec.”

“I know, but I want to.”

Nino scooted closer. “So, do you want to talk about what happened? Or do you want to be distracted?” 

“How about I tell you what happened, and then you can distract me?” 

“Sounds good, mec.”

“I met him at the university library,” Adrien began, his gaze on the far wall, and not on Nino. But Nino gave him his full attention anyway. “I was doing research for my thesis. And when he saw me fumbling with a stack of textbooks he just offered to help me put my reference books away. And he started talking about physics and when we were done, we just kept talking. We ended up downstairs in the student union just having coffee. It didn’t seem like he recognized me.” Adrien tugged at his blond locks. “I’m such an idiot! Of course, he recognized me. How can anyone not recognize me? My face is on every other billboard!” 

“It makes me feel like you’re always with me,” Nino joked.

Adrien responded with a flick from his middle finger to the brim of Nino’s hat, sending the red keepsake snapping off his head. 

“Hey!” Nino objected. “Anything but the hat.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, mec,” Nino soothed. If there was one person Nino actually trusted with his older brother’s hat, it was Adrien. “So, what happened over coffee?” 

“Nothing really. Like I said, we just talked. It was nice. Or… I thought it was. We almost split there, but then he whirled back around and asked me out. He seemed genuinely interested, and I had really enjoyed talking to him, I thought maybe it was worth a shot! Especially after…” he trailed off. And yeah, Nino knew Adrien was still pining after this mystery girl he worked with after years of her saying no. “It just felt nice to be wanted.” 

And god, if it wasn’t always the same story.

“We went to dinner at this little cafe. You know, even if he was acting the whole time, he really was a fantastic conversationalist. It was just so easy! And I thought… we had a connection? It was just one kiss. But apparently, the whole thing was a set up. I knew as soon as the flash went off. They had a screen for lighting and everything.”

He must have been good, Nino surmised. Adrien hadn’t been tricked by one of these looking for a moment of fame since they were seventeen.

“But I should have known better. Nathalie always says to never go out the same day they ask.”

“What?! You didn’t give Nathalie time to write a twenty page report on your potential suitor?” Nino asked mockingly.

Adrien barked a laugh. “Twenty? Try forty!” Then his mirth faded. “But I hate it, Nino. I hate being so suspicious and cynical.” 

Nino clamped his hand onto Adrien’s shoulder and squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. 

“And I hate it more when she’s right,” Adrien added in a whisper. 

At those words, Nino pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, dude. Wish the world was filled with more genuine people and less opportunists.”

“Yeah…”

It was silent again, and Nino was at a loss for how to fill it. But he definitely didn’t want Adrien spiraling in his thoughts for too long. 

“How’d your father take it?” It wasn’t the question Nino wanted to ask, but it was always best to get the Gabriel rant out of the way.

Adrien’s whole body went rigid in Nino’s arms. “I haven’t actually talked to him yet.”

Nino just hugged him harder. “How many times has Nathalie called?”

Adrien pulled away, and tossed him his phone. Nino unlocked it with practiced ease. Missed calls - three. Spaced exactly thirty minutes apart. Nino shook his head.

“That’s not that bad.”

“Bet she texts or calls you before she makes it to call number five,” Adrien countered.

Nino laughed. “You’re on. She’ll try you at least three more times. Anything in particular you want me to negotiate for?”

“I don’t want to talk to him today. Tomorrow is fine.” 

Nino waved his hand dismissively. “That one’s obvious, dude. I was thinking more like your working conditions in general?” 

“I would love it if we could move my fittings to early morning. Like super early. Five am? I’ve requested it before, but it costs extra to have a team there that early.”

Nino made a distasteful face. “I don’t know why you’d want to get up so blasted early.”

“I just want to get it over with so I have more time to study or hang out with my friends during the rest of the day. Is my company not worth a dawn wake up in your world?”

“This is my dawn! And here I am!”

Adrien’s grin faded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“None of that!” Nino waved his arms dramatically. “We already established that when you need me, I am here!”

Adrien’s lips curled up into a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“So, are you okay?” Nino finally asked the question he had been wanting to ask since he arrived. Adrien had just been outed publicly.

Adrien shrugged. “Just embarrassed… mostly. You know I am comfortable with my sexuality. I was really only keeping it under wraps for father and the company.”

“Are you really okay?”

Adrien chuckled darkly. “How do you do that?”

Nino shrugged, his body going limp. “It’s my superpower, clearly. So you’re not okay, I take it?”

Adrien sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I was ready to be out with my friends, and the important people already know, but being outed publicly is terrifying. I feel so exposed. Like more than normal.

“And apparently, I do care what people think. But I hate that I care!” Adrien bit out, the bitterness and self-reproach clear in his tone. “I thought I didn’t, but I definitely do,” he added, his voice softer. “I wish I was brave enough not to.”

“Dude!” Nino objected. “You’re being too hard on yourself. It’s normal to not want to be judged. I know I wouldn’t want to be. Not when it wasn’t by choice.” Nino was out only with his closest friends. He had never talked to his parents. They weren’t exactly traditional, but they grew up in a country where homosexuality was met with prison time. Nino didn’t think they would disown him or anything, but he didn’t expect them to be thrilled. And he didn’t want to risk it. Not unless it was necessary.

Noël didn’t know either. Nino didn’t think his little brother would care, but Nino wasn’t confident Noël would remain discreet either. 

“Know that I’m with you every step of the way,” Nino promised. 

“Thanks, dude.” Adrien didn’t say anything more, but his blond eyebrows scrunched together so he was clearly thinking about something. “I definitely fantasized about my public coming out at some charity or something. Some event that could help the LGBTQ cause and community. And now it just feels so… tawdry. Like it’s just another sex scandal. And I feel like that possibility was stolen from me.”

Nino was quiet. “I’m sorry, mec. This wasn’t cool.”

Adrien shrugged. “And I’m maybe a little heartbroken. But I’m used to that.”

Nino’s chest tightened. It wasn’t fair. If anyone on this earth deserved love, it was Adrien.

“Anything I can do?”

“You’re doing it!” Adrien looked up and genuinely smiled, his green eyes impossibly bright. “You always do.” 

Nino smiled. “That’s because I love you, dude. You know that right?” 

“Yeah, man. Of course I do. And I love you, too.”

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? Do you just want to hang out just the two of us? Or shall I invite the girls over?”

The girls meant Marinette, Kagami, and Chloé. But maybe Nino would include Alya as well since she was in town. 

“They will tear this guy to pieces.”

Nino nodded. “Exactly. He deserves it.”

“Do you think Marinette will actually come?” 

“I mean, I think if anything will bring her out of her cave of isolation to make you feel better, it would be that headline.” 

Adrien hesitated, another hand on his neck. “I don’t know… I don’t know if I want to face them. I’m so embarrassed. Chloé is going to give me hell for not seeing through this guy.”

Nino didn’t agree on that assessment. Chloé would definitely give him a hard time. But she’d do it at some point weeks or months in the future. She wouldn't tease him today. “If she does, remind her of the Antonia disaster!” 

Adrien laughed. Thank all the kwamis that that relationship had only lasted six months. Six long excruciating months. They had all hated Antonia, and not only because the feeling was mutual, but because she had torn Chloé’s sense of self worth into shreds. 

“Seriously mec, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’ve all had colossal misjudgements in relationships. Like all of us.” 

“When has Marinette screwed up?” 

Nino’s laugh exploded from his chest. “Mec, you have no idea. Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to say.”

“What?! No fair! Why do you get to know, and not me?” 

Nino just shrugged. He probably would have had no trouble gossiping about Marinette to Adrien if so many of her secrets didn’t involve the blond in question. “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”

“What about you?” Adrien asked. “When have you screwed up in a relationship?” 

“Does a drunk hook-up count?” Nino asked.

“Depends! Were they cute?” 

“Not as cute as you,” Nino snarked back. 

Adrien actually blushed, and then just threw his arms around Nino again. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“For?”

“For being here despite my protests, for making me feel better.” 

Nino squeezes Adrien tighter. “Always, mec.”

“You can invite the girls, but can we do it at my place?”

“I thought your place had paparazzi.” 

“Just a van.”

Nino winced. That was almost worse than a crowd. A team on stakeout would be more invasive and they’d stick around for longer. 

They rolled to their feet. Neither had anything in the way of belongings and exited into the hallway.

“Which room is the gorilla staying in?” 

Adrien jerked his thumb towards the adjacent room. 

Nino knocked with a complicated staccato rhythm. The door swung open a few seconds later. 

“Morning, Big G!” Nino greeted enthusiastically offering a fist, which Adrien’s protector reciprocated, though his expression remained devoid of feeling. 

“We’re heading out,” Nino explained. “Back to his place. I’m ordering breakfast on the way. What do you want from Tom and Sabine’s?” 

The stoic man nodded and signed animatedly. 

Nino nodded. “Sounds good! We’ll meet you out front in fifteen.” 

Adrien shook his head as the door closed. “How is it that you know how to talk to him better than I do?”

“Sign language isn’t that hard, man. And I had motivation to learn!” 

It was hard to bribe a man if you didn’t speak his language.

…

Chapter 2

[fleckcmscott]

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too. 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

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[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an Ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 2.7k

part 1 of 2

please scroll to the end to ��content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

---

Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.

You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head. 

Now you operated alone, picking up what seasonal jobs you could. The ones that payed more tended to be more dangerous—you had a good sense as to which jobs would require you to stash extra knives on your person and demand your own private tent. That demand would often eat into your wages, but it was worth the peace of mind.

You were coming up on the last of your income from last season, which is how you found yourself scouting shuttle stations for work. Most of the bulletins at the larger stations were already picked clean. Now, at one of the smallest stations in the Reach, you hoped against hope you’d find a decent job posting.

Mostly scrap haul jobs—one odd request for a live-in massage therapist, and you knew what that was code for—but when you were about to give up and move on, one last blip on the readout screen caught your eye.

seeking experienced miner for short-term contract work (one season). small-scale operation, compensation negotiable. food and board included. helmet must be supplied by employee, O2 freely available. radio callsign alpha-echo-six, will be monitoring channel 07:00 – 23:00 universal time.

It was contract work, not profit-share, but what the hell. It was the best you had come across in your search so far and you doubted you’d find anything better. Checking the screen, you noted it was nearly 23:00—but you pulled out your radio, entered the posted callsign, and gave it a shot.

“This is radio callsign alpha-sierra-two, inquiring about job posting on shuttle station R-Twelve,” you said into your device. “Is the position still open?”

You waited for a minute in dead silence before you heard the line crackle to life. “Hello, alpha-sierra-two,” a thick drawl replied. “Long as you can hold a pickaxe steady, the job’s as good as yours.”

---

When you met him, the first thing you noticed was the shock of blonde hair. Nobody out in the Reaches had much use for cosmetic hair products, so it must have been a natural occurrence of some sort. It struck you as profoundly odd—but also incredibly attractive. You took a deep breath and swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

The second thing you noticed—well. It was a little hard to miss.

“Name’s Ezra,” he said with a sly smile, extending his left—and only—hand.

You weren’t sure which hand you were supposed to shake his with. You decided on your left, to match his. It took some fumbling, but you managed a firm shake in the end. You introduced yourself and then let your hands drop.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you said, “I’m not used to shaking hands with my left.”

Ezra chuckled darkly. “Me neither, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Normally, you’d hate hearing that come from a man you’d just met. It would’ve felt like a belittlement. But not with this man—it just seemed to roll off his tongue without a second thought.

Then, you realized the implication of his statement. If he wasn’t used to shaking with his left, the loss of his right arm must not have been too long ago. In this line of work, any number of horrors could have caused it. You decided it was best not to dwell on the subject.

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters,” Ezra said, gesturing for you to follow.

He brought you to the only man-made structure within sight. He must have built it himself. He zipped the entryway door shut and clumsily removed his helmet with one hand. You swiftly removed yours, glad to get the sweaty thing off of you for the first time in hours.

The tent was sturdy and spacious enough to feel a little less like a hovel and a little more like a home. It was certainly nicer than most accommodations you’d been given on mining contract work before. There were two beds—well, just cushioned mats on the floor, but definitely an upgrade from a cot—separated by makeshift room divider in the form of a bedsheet tied between two of the tent supports.

“I can fashion a proper partition if you’d prefer,” he said, “the kid was prone to nightmares is all. Didn’t like feelin’ shut off. Took that tent wall down the next day, put the sheet up instead.”

“Kid?” You prompted.

“She’s livin’ in the Ephrate this season,” he said. “Got a scholarship to that fancy Academy an’ everything. Awful proud of her.” You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“That’s nice,” you said,  “she must have a good father.”

Ezra chuckled, the sound tinged with something bitter. “Unfortunately, I do not hold such a grand title,” he said. “Her parents are deceased. I am but her guardian.”

Oh.

“Well, get yourself settled and join me outside when you’re ready,” he said as he went to retrieve his helmet. “It’s not as complicated as aurelac, but it’s still a bitch to mine.”

---

After just a few days of harvesting starstone, you were inclined to agree with Ezra’s statement. It was an absolute bitch. If you so much as tapped it at the wrong angle it would completely lose its integrity. Then, as soon at was harvested, it had to be soaked in a complicated solution of enzymes so it would retain its color—if you waited too long to get it in the enzyme bath, it would turn pale and lose its shimmer. How the hell anyone managed to transport it without massive damages, you had no idea.

You voiced this to him. He simply shrugged. “Not my problem,” he said. “The buyer is arrangin’ her own transport. We just have to hand it off.”

“What is this stuff good for, anyway?” You asked.

“It’s pretty,” he said, “and if there’s one thing I’ve become privy to in all my years of prospectin’, it’s that all sorts of folk will pay a pretty penny for pretty things. ’Specially if those things are rare.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the bright green and orange whorls of glittery stone around the two of you. Ezra snickered at your comment, and the sound of the raspy, almost boyish laughter made your stomach do somersaults.

“I can assume you have no such affinity for pretty things, then,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” you started, looking into those pretty brown eyes of his, “now and I again I might.”

Ezra just arched an eyebrow before returning to sifting through rock.

---

You and Ezra fell into an easy rhythm. He would wake up early to prepare the enzyme solutions for the day’s mining. You both mined as long as it stayed light out, going back into the tent as needed for a ration bar or a toilet break or just to rest your weary head for a minute. After dark, it was your responsibility to prep the filters and O2 tanks. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself finally adjusting to the man’s odd manner of speech, and even found yourself laughing at his dry wit.

And if you were honest with yourself, you were harboring quite the crush.

But this was job, damnit, and even if it wasn’t profit-share, Ezra payed far more than any other boss you’d had for contract work. You weren’t going to compromise that. A sexual relationship with someone who was technically your superior was never a good idea—you didn’t want to get yourself kicked off this planet without a full season’s pay.

This dwarf planet’s climate wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the Green. The air wasn’t breathable, which is why oxygen tanks and helmets were necessary, but there was nothing like the deadly moon’s dust you remember from the rush days. The one complaint you had: the weather was always hot, some days painfully so, and today was one of those days. You had both decided to cut the workday short and stumbled back to the tent, sweaty and exhausted.

You wrenched your helmet off of your head and immediately planted yourself in front of one of the air circulators. You heard Ezra’s helmet fall to the floor with a clank and several frustrated grunts as he began to unzip his suit. You knew by now not to offer help—even though it took him a long time to dress and undress, it seemed to be a point of pride to him that he do it himself.

You shucked off your own suit, leaving yourself standing in a sleeveless top and shorts. Cooler now, but still utterly worn-out, you all but flung yourself on your cot. You rucked up your shirt so you left as much of your skin exposed to the air as possible without stripping down to your underwear.  “Too fucking hot,” you grumbled.

“Preachin’ to the choir, birdie,” Ezra replied, finally kicking his suit off and out of the way. “Pardon my selfishness, but I’m inclined to take the first shower.”

You groaned, but you had taken the first shower yesterday, so you didn’t protest. Ezra took long showers—you guessed it was because of his arm situation—so you’d have to wait to get all the sweat and grime off. But hey—at least you had a shower. In some of your past gigs you had to wipe yourself down from head to toe with a wet rag.

The shower was attached to the main tent on the east-facing wall: your side of the sheet. Ezra walked by you to access it—he was shirtless, clad only in the pair of black compression pants he wore under his suit. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at him from where you lay—you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach, and the dusting of dark hair that began below his bellybutton and traveled down beneath his waistband. He sighed and stretched before unzipping the partition and shuffling tiredly to the shower.

Seeing him half-naked had lit a spark in your belly. You swallowed thickly, your mind trailing into territory you usually reserved for late at night when Ezra was asleep. Yes, you were attracted to him—but it was more than just a baser instinct. Whenever you got yourself off in the past—or gotten someone else off—it had been quick and quiet and easily forgotten, something to take the edge off, to scratch an itch. You never really fantasized about romance or, Kevva forbid, love, but the longer you spent with Ezra, the more you caught yourself wondering what he would be like as a lover—if he’d hold you gently against his chest after, if he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, if he’d tell you that you were beautiful.

You scoffed at yourself. Fantasies like that were for naive girls, not for a grown woman, especially not a world-weary miner who knew that men in the Reaches weren’t like that.

But maybe Ezra was different. He was already far different than any man you had ever met.

And maybe you could allow yourself the fantasy.

As you listened to the hum of the shower running, confident in your assertion that Ezra wouldn’t be out for some time—you snaked one hand down under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, rubbing at yourself in the way you usually did—in the way that would make you orgasm quickly. If you drew things out, that just gave your brain time to strike up ridiculous fantasies of Ezra making love to you.

Making love. There you go again. Why can’t you just call it fucking? But what you were thinking of wasn’t fucking—would he gaze into your eyes as he filled you? Would he whisper to you how good you felt, call you sweetheart like he did the first day you met—and nearly every day since?

Damn it, you said you wouldn’t think about it, but here you were. You rubbed yourself faster, just hoping to get this over with and move the fuck on—

“Shower’s all yours,” you heard Ezra’s voice ring out, and you froze. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. How had you not heard the water turn off? How long were you daydreaming?

There was no way Ezra didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even have the plausible deniability of having a blanket over you. You were so fucked.

You moved your head a tiny fraction to look at Ezra. He had a threadbare towel around his waist, precariously held by a twist-and-tuck at his hip. He was staring at you, wide-eyed and stock-still, as droplets dripped down his forehead from his still-wet hair. You weren’t sure he was even breathing.

Neither of you moved.

Then, Ezra licked his lips, flicking his eyes from your face down to where your hand was still stuck in your shorts, then back to your eyes again. Slowly, deliberately. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You hitched your hips up a little under his gaze, almost involuntarily. He watched the movement with intensity.

Fuck. Was this really happening?

Ezra brought his hand up to his mouth, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. He looked to where your hand was trapped between your legs, and gestured with a nod.

With your heartbeat hammering against your chest, you began to move your hand again, eyes locked on Ezra. His breath hitched as he watched you touch yourself, his eyes intent on your body, pupils blown wide and dark.

You rubbed at your clit, your legs tensing as you brought your hips up to press into your hand. Unable to help it, a moan escaped your throat, and Ezra answered back with a low hum of his own.

Hearing him respond to you made your body light up like lightning. You closed your eyes and sucked in frantic bursts of air. The oppressive heat around you was unbearable, the pressure building in your core even more so. Your pulse roared against your eardrums as you frantically worked at your clit, almost sore now, needing to come now more than ever, needing that release—

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ezra said, and the sound of his voice had you coming hard, thighs shaking. You chased your high as long as you could, clit nearly rubbed raw, until you winced at the overstimulation, dropping your hips back to the bed and letting out a heaving sigh. Almost in a daze, you opened your eyes, chancing a glance at Ezra. He was staring down at you as if he’d seen Kevva’s gates open up before him. He was also visibly tenting his towel, holding onto where it was tied at his hip in a vise-like grip.

“I’m,” you started, catching your breath, “I could use a shower now.”

“As very well could I,” Ezra replied as he shifted his weight back and forth, voice strained, “an’ a cold one at that. But I’d be remiss to waste the water.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. About the shower or the impromptu peepshow, you weren’t sure.

“Quite alright. But don’t be alarmed if you emerge to find me in a similar position when you’re done in there,” he remarked, gesturing to the shower with a jerk of his head.

You planted your face in your pillow, mortified beyond belief, hot shame washing over you. Ezra simply chuckled.

“No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said. “Close quarters make for... sticky situations such as these.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you stood up, walking past Ezra to make your way to the shower.

What the fuck just happened?

---

a/n: this was supposed to be a quick smutty oneshot (oops) but it was getting long so I’ve split it into two parts! Part two should be out by the end of this week.

content: masturbation, voyeurism (but is it voyeurism if both parties are aware of the voyeur-ing?)

READ PART 2 HERE

[lost-in-the-80s]

It’s You pt. 1

Pairing: Duff McKagan x (fem) reader

Words: 2,002k.

Summary: You and Duff are best friends and you help him to impress a girl. You should be happy for him, but then why do you feel sad? You couldn’t like him, could you? (fluff + angst) 

A/N: 1- So, it got bigger than I expected, so I'll post the second part in the future.

         2- I didn't want to use a name for the girl, just in case it was someone's name, because it would be weird lol. Therefore, we are always calling her "She".

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car​ @ladieswttda​ add yourself to my tag list :)

Part 2

It was the year of 1983, Y/N was at The Rainbow with her friends, drinking and laughing about something, when he entered the place. He had blue hair and almost didn’t pass through the door due to his height. 

He looked so lost, checking booth after booth, trying to find something. He moved towards the bar, where he sat and asked for a beer. 

Y/N didn’t know why, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. So she decided to go and start a conversation. Draining the rest of her beer she stood up and moved towards the open seat beside him.

 “I’ve never seen you here.” He looked to the side and saw a tall girl with a kind smile on her face. “I’m Y/N, by the way!”. She extended her hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Duff.” He gave her a small smile and shook her hand, wishing he had put on a nicer jacket. “Funny name.” She said while asking for another beer. 

“So, where are you from?” She drank from the bottle and his eyes moved to her lips. He looked to her eyes and realized she was staring at him, waiting for his answer.

He cleared his throat. “Seattle” 

“Cool, I’m from Sitka.” He looked at her as if he was trying to think where the hell that city was. “It’s in Alaska.” She stated and saw his eyes light up a little with realization.

“So… What brings a Seattle boy to California?” He looked into her eyes and said firmly “I’m going to be in a band!” From hearing that Y/N had no doubt, he would be. The way he said it as if it was the only thing he was sure in his life, made her even more curious about him.

“What about you? California doesn't seem like something Alaskan people are into.” She laughed slightly and he thought that was a heavenly sound. “I got tired of nothing happening in my life. Wanted some change. So one day I decided I would come here.” 

“What do you do here?” He asked after he drank from his beer. “I'm a photographer!” He raised his brows. “Maybe when you find a band I can take the pictures for you!” 

He smiled at her. She was the first person to be nice to him in that town. Ever since he arrived the only human contacts he had were with the grumpy lady from the hotel he was staying at, and a man who he bumped into, on his way to the bar. 

“When did you get here? You still look kinda lost.” Duff looked at her and asked for another beer before answering. “Yesterday. I’m staying in a hotel down the street until I find somewhere to stay.” 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stay there. A friend of mine stayed and got one of his bags stolen. Nobody really checks to see if the rooms are safe and shit.” 

This made Duff worried. He had all his guitars there. “Where do you think I could stay?” 

“There is a nice place near the beach, but it’s kind of expensive.” He frowned worriedly. 

“I haven’t got a job yet, can’t stay in somewhere that costs too much.” 

She finished her beer and thought for a while. “You know what? Fuck it. You can stay at my place for a while.”

“Re-really?” She got him surprised, that’s for sure. She nodded her head and giggled at his expression. “But you don’t even know me.” He said.

“Yeah, but I know how it is to be new in somewhere you don’t know anyone.” She paused for a while. “Plus, you’re a nice guy. I can see it in your eyes.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck yeah, Duff!” He laughed at her exasperation. 

She stood up and took a ten-dollar bill out of her jeans pocket putting it on the counter. “Come on, let’s take your stuff from that place before it’s too late.” 

-------

Now it was 1986. They became best friends after that night. Duff stayed at Y/N’s place for about two weeks until he found someone to share an apartment with. She helped him find a job and went with him on his first rehearsal with Road Crew.

She saw Road Crew slowly fade as Duff was invited to this new band Guns n Roses. She saw how in doubt he was about leaving a punk band to be in a rock one. She also saw how happy he was after his first gig with them and from that day on, she knew they would make it big.

She was always there, helping them with everything and being their number one fan. 

It was a strangely cold night in March, she was at the hell house with the boys, watching a horror movie and eating pizza. That’s when Duff entered the house. He slammed the front door shut and went straight to his room. Something had happened.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N followed him, closing his door behind her. He was walking from one wall to another while mumbling something. “What’s going on Duff?” 

He looked at her for a while before he started to speak. “She said I’m nobody!” Y/N frowned. “Said my band is nothing.” He was so exasperated. “Said that I can call her when we are famous” He ran his hands through his hair.

Y/N knew who he was talking about. She was a secretary Duff met a couple of weeks ago at The Rainbow. He was head over hills for her since day one. Always trying to impress her, but she always dismissed him.

“Fucking bitch.” Y/N said. “Fuck her, you deserve better than someone who cares for this crap.” 

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t like it when Y/N talked like that about her. He knew she never really liked her, always saying that she wasn’t nice or that she didn’t like her personality, but still, he liked her.

It was true, Y/N didn’t like her at all. But it was because she was a bitch. Y/N didn’t like calling someone that, but it was true. Every time Duff was around, she would ask him if she was beautiful, touch his arm suggestively or call him “Duffy” and then, when he tried to start some sort of conversation, she would completely ignore him or answer in the rudest way. Y/N hated that because she knew how bad Duff got every time it happened.

“I’ll make it big Y/N! I’ll prove to her that I am somebody. And then we will finally be together!” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You never listen to me do you?” She said, exiting the bedroom and closing the door once again. 

Two weeks passed after that, and on March 26, Guns signed with Geffen Records. That was it. That contract said they were serious and said they were starting to make it big. 

She went out with the boys that night to celebrate, drinking until late. Around 3 am she helped Izzy and Axl drag the other three back to their house. She was so wasted that she ended up passing out on the couch. 

The next morning she woke up to someone talking excitedly. She looked to her side and saw Duff on the phone. “Probably telling his mom.” she thought to herself. Closing her eyes she decided to sleep a bit more. 

Before she could sleep again, she felt someone shaking her. “Y/N! Wake up!” It was Duff. 

“What?” She said. Her voice raspy due to her sleepiness. “I called Jane and…” Before he could finish she interjected. “Who the fuck is Jane?” 

“Her friend, the one with black hair.” Y/N thought for a while. “The nice one?”

“Yeah Y/N, the nice one. Continuing… I told her we got the label and said I wanted to make her a surprise, and Jane said they are going to the amusement park tomorrow, so I guess I’m going too.” He laughed a little. 

Y/N didn’t say anything, because she had nothing nice to say. She just wanted to roll her eyes and say that he was being stupid, but decided to remain silent. 

“Can you paint my hair today? I want to look nice.” He was smiling like a child. “Fine, but only if you let me sleep.” He nodded fastly and left the living room.

She didn’t know why, but she felt a tightness in her heart. She thought about Duff and her together and she started to feel a certain sadness fill her chest. She sighed and covered her head with a pillow, hoping that she could sleep soon, so she wouldn’t have to think about that anymore. 

The afternoon arrived and she was awakened by Slash, who slightly touched her shoulder, telling her they had made lunch. She got up stretching her body and moving towards the kitchen. 

After lunch, she went to the drug store with Duff. They bought all the necessary products to bleach his hair and she had to hear him talking about her the whole way. She wanted so bad to throw the plastic bag with the products on his head and tell him to shut up, but decided against it. 

Back at the house, duff grabbed a chair and sat in front of the bathroom mirror with a bag of Doritos in his lap, while Y/N worked on his hair. 

All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix started playing on the small radio they took along. Y/N lightened a cigarette taking a drag from it while dancing. She loved Hendrix. 

She moved with every guitar note she listened, and Duff could do nothing but to watch her from the mirror, almost as if she had hypnotized him. She was the coolest girl he knew, with so much attitude and sweetness at the same time, he didn’t even know why, but she fascinated him in every single way.

He laughed as she stopped moving and started to pretend she was playing guitar. She was horrible at playing, Slash, Izzy and even him had tried teaching her, but she always got frustrated after a few minutes and damned that to hell.  The music came to an end, and she started to focus on Duff’s hair again.

After a good 1 hour, Duff's hair was done. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror and high fived Y/N, thanking her. They exited the bathroom and went to the backyard, where the boys were. 

Duff grabbed a beer and sat beside Axl and Izzy on the bench while Y/N moved to the grass area and started playing with Izzy’s dog. 

“Feeling ready to impress her now?” Axl asked. “Fuck yeah!”

“I still think you’re making a mistake by going after her.” Axl said and Duff frowned. “If she didn’t want to be with you while you were growing, she doesn’t deserve to be with you now.” 

“Cut it, man, you don’t know her” He replied while drinking from his beer. “And do you?” It was Izzy. Duff rolled his eyes and watched Y/N. She giggled while playing with the dog’s ears. 

"You know… I always thought you and Y/N would end up together" Axl said.

"Why?"

"I don't know man, but there is a strong connection between the two of you." Hearing that Duff looked back to Y/N, he saw she was now fake fighting with Slash and a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Plus, friends don't look at each other like that!"

"What do you mean?" Duff frowned.

"Like, the way you look at each other, is as if you loved each other." 

"Just like you were looking at her now." Izzy added.

Duff didn't say anything, he drank from his beer and started to think. Could he love Y/N in a way that friends shouldn't love each other?

[no-disco]

Smash Hits, 9th-22nd July 1981. Photos by Jill Furmanovsky and Paul Slattery.

transcription under the cut

photos and transcription retrieved from sacreddm.net on the wayback machine

  ULTRAPOP THAT IS. DEPECHE MODE INVITE STEVE TAYLOR TO BASILDON FOR A SHORT COURSE IN ONE U.P.MANSHIP* [1]

  “When Simon Bates introduces us on Top Of The Pops”, Depeche Mode’s singer Dave Gahan is saying on the afternoon before their television debut, “he makes a special point about us coming from Basildon – why?” “Because nothing good ever comes out of here?” [2] suggests one of Gahan’s three synthesiser playing colleagues, Martin Gore. We all ponder for a minute or two, perched up here in a tacky plastic-lined pub above the concrete shopping mall. Silence. Next question.

  Basildon deserves special mention as one of those sprawling new-ish towns built to house London’s “overspill” population in the post-war period. Like Basingstoke, it stands in some people’s eyes as a cliché for soul-less suburban development around a boring – the word is “alienating” – centre where the entertainment is hard to find. The very stuff of Plays For Today. The very stuff, you might be forgiven for thinking, of classic Urban Synthesiser Gloom.

  Well, here’s the surprise; not that Depeche Mode come from somewhere like Basildon, but the fact that they play frothy adolescent pop – with a tinge of moodiness, sure, but nothing that would qualify them for the Throbbing Gristle award for making the listener feel more suicidal than ever before.

  Depeche Mode have a little joke about it. Vince Clark [sic] calls the other camp of synthesiser bands “B&I”, standing for “bleak and industrial”. Dave Gahan, swaggering and laughing more than usual after a pint and a half of lunchtime lager, gets the slogan wrong: “We’re P&U”, he proclaims. Everyone looks baffled. “You know,” says Gahan, “pop and up.” Vince puts him right. “The phrase is U.P. and it stands for Ultrapop!”.

  They have every reason to be cheerful right now, having achieved the enviable exposure of a Top Of The Pops slot – with an independent label single, mind – and having become one of the subjects of a forthcoming “Twentieth Century Box” on London Weekend Television within only a year of first playing together.

  Within the last few months they’ve all given up whatever stopped them being Depeche Mode full-time. Gahan was politely asked to leave college, where he was studying window dressing; Clark’s fellow synthesiser players Martin Gore and Andrew Fletcher gave up their jobs as bank clerk and insurance clerk. Vince – “I’m a Vince Clark” – with least to lose, signed off the dole. [3] With a cheap and portable stage set-up they now live solely on income from gigs – a fact which they’re justly proud of. [4]

  “We’ve got no transport costs really,” explains Gahan, “all our gear goes in the car. We don’t employ any roadies. So if we get paid £250 for a gig and £50 goes on hiring the PA, we can come out of it with a reasonable amount each. Everything about us is independent, even the promotion for the new record we hired ourselves.

  “Dreaming Of Me”, Depeche Mode’s last single on the Mute label, reached number fifty-seven in the singles charts and number one in the independent singles. “We’re going to be The Beatles of the indies,” crows Fletcher in a fit of bravado.

  This is all a long way from the scene less than a year ago when Gahan remembers he stood outside the venue for their first performance as a four-piece, Nicholas School where Fletcher and Gore had been pupils. “You spent half an hour outside trying to calm down,” says Fletcher. “You had about ten cans of lager.” All Gahan can remember is repeatedly saying to himself, “I don’t want to do it, I don’t want to do it.”

  The three instrumentalists were old hands at this, having played all of two gigs as a trio of bass and two synths – once at Scamps in Southend and another at “Deb Danahay’s party”. Vince isn’t going to let anyone ask a fool question like “What were they like?” “They weren’t even minor successes,” he says. Andrew puts Vince’s reassessment in context: “The crowd didn’t react so Vince lost his temper with them – plugs were kicked out.” “There were a lot of fourteen-year-olds,” adds Martin, “who’d never seen a synth before, so they were fiddling with the knobs going ‘What does this do?’.”

  Not that the three of them had been introduced to the synthesiser that long before. Vince and Andrew had their musical baptism in a gospel folk duo which played the local churches and clubs; Martin, who still goes to Methodist church once a month, was the guitarist in a middle-of-the-road West Coast orientated band which played “nice songs”.

  So, though they were too young to be early 1970s glitter kids and readily admit to not having been diehard punks, they were all musically involved enough to be touched by crucial innovations. As Clark says, “You appreciate things much more when they’re past.” Gahan describes the band’s tastes as running “from folk to P.I.L.”.

  “Punk,” says Clark, “wasn’t all good, but the enthusiasm…”

  Fletcher takes up the thread: “We’ve always liked groups like Roxy and people like Bowie who kept their respectability.”

  “Electronic music,” says Vince, “connected the two, Roxy and punk. We liked groups that used synthesisers – OMD, Human League, Gary Numan – that was what we were listening to at the time we got together. And,” he concludes with a grin, “synthesisers are very easy to get a good sound on.”

  With the arrival of Gahan, who they heard crooning Bowie’s “Heroes” at a jam session with another band, their distinctive style began to shape up and audiences reacted accordingly. Gahan recalls their four-piece debut at the Top Alex, a Southend pub that’s normally an R&B stronghold: “We went down really well – they were banging their heads to our pop.”

  Circulating an early demo tape got them a valuable few gigs, mostly at the Bridge House in London’s Canning Town – “Terry, the promoter there, was the only bloke who believed in us then” – and at Crocs in nearby Rayleigh. “We must have played at Crocs fifteen times,” says Fletcher, “and that gave us a lot of encouragement; we weren’t really nervous any more.” “Speak for yourself,” bounces back Gahan.

  Crocs was also the place where their audience first started dressing up in frills and makeup, though now Gahan says that’s toned down: “Everyone’s not trying so hard to be different from one another, it’s smarter.” The band have swopped their cute Romanticism for macho leathers at the moment, though Gahan says it’s not a policy decision, they just go for “anything that looks good.”

  The Bridge House, meanwhile, set them on the path for Top Of The Pops. They met Daniel Miller, the unassuming proprietor of Mute Records and an aficionado of electronic pop, there and were eventually invited to do a one-off single. After doing the dispiriting rounds of the major labels, Miller was “the first one we could trust; he said that if either party didn’t like the other, we’d call it a day.”

  The imminent success of “New Life” and the fact that the formerly indifferent majors have suddenly started “finding” Depeche Mode’s demo tape and ’phone number is a great confidence booster for both the band and Miller. “All the majors told him he wasn’t going to make it and he’s proved them wrong,” says Gahan. “And as for us, so far things have just happened – and at this rate we’re happy just to let them keep happening.”

[1] - The magazine's footnote at this point reads: "Hello, me again. Well, I took the pills like he said but I'm no better. I'm sure they only do it to get rid of you. Next time I shall demand to see the specialist. A person in my condition shouldn't be forced to sit here all day thinking up headlines..."

[duchessfics]

A Lasting Mark Part 4

(https://ahs-gif-imagines.tumblr.com/post/171798402006/ahs-30-day-challenge-1530-character-that-i-wish)

(https://alainashuffman.tumblr.com/post/66522632737/sarah-paulson-in-piggy-piggy)

Billie x Fem!Reader x Audrey

Requested by @shineestark: I’m not saying we need a bit of Billie x reader x Audrey angst, but that’s exactly what I’m saying. reader seeing some random hate comments about her when she’s seen out with Audrey and/or Billie? reader and Billie and Audrey missing each other when they have to travel for filming? them fighting? SO MUCH POTENTIAL.

Warning(s): Angst, Relationship tension (I don’t know if that’s a warning, but just in case), use of cigarettes, cursing 

Summary: You told Billie and Audrey that you didn’t mind them going on vacation without you, but as time progresses you begin to question that decision and your value in the relationship.

Word Count: 10,650

A/n: Vivi I hope I did this justice. I’m working on my angst, I promise. Although this ends resolved so... 😅 For some context Since this is in “The Lasting Mark Series” the reader is a stunt double and she has three older brothers with the oldest being a stunt double as well. I mentioned that in the first part, but if you’re confused that’s where the concept is from.

Here’s part 1, part 2 [NSFW], and part 3 [NSFW]

You watch Audrey and Billie rushing around your shared bedroom, throwing last minute items into their suitcases. However when you see the time on your phone you know that you need to go. So you hesitantly tell them, “We should have left five minutes ago…”

You hear Audrey curse in the bathroom, and something falls onto the floor. Meanwhile Billie throws the remaining clothes into their suitcases, no longer taking the time to neatly fold them. Then the actress dashes out with two stuffed toiletry bags and stuffs them in one of their checked bags. Both women zip up their respective suitcases as Audrey assures you, “That’s the last of it.”

So you take their two suitcases that are going to be checked and your girlfriends roll their carry-on suitcases in addition to their purses. It’s a good thing you’ve been weight training because both of these pieces of luggage have to be at least 60 pounds. 

While walking out to the car you go over their checklist asking: 

“You’ve got toothbrushes? Extra contacts? Sunglasses? Sunscreen? Chargers? Swimsuit?” 

They answer yes to each one and you hope they’re right. That being so, you load everything into the trunk and get in the driver’s side to take them to the airport.

On the way there, Billie puts down the passenger’s window and lights a cigarette, making sure the ashes go outside. In response you hear a groan from the backseat.

“Bill, do you really have to do that now? I’m right behind you.”

The medium smirks and lets out a puff of smoke, resting her arm on the window’s ledge so most of the smoke blows out of the car. Then she adjusts her oversized designer sunglasses and purrs, “Honey, this is my last one before our vacation. I just need a couple minutes. Once we're there, I’ll be able to occupy myself with other…how do I put this…activities.”

You bite your lower lip in an attempt to conceal your smile when Audrey huffs, “Honestly.” Before moving to sit behind you. Billie just chuckles before teasing, “You know you love me, baby.” 

The actress doesn’t respond, however when you take a glance in the rearview mirror, you see her cheeks have a pink flush to them that wasn’t there before.

Fortunately, you make up for running late by speeding along and you’re on time when you pull up to the drop off at the airport. Once you’ve parked the car you help Billie and Audrey unload all of their luggage. 

After you check the trunk to make sure it’s empty Billie comes close to peck your lips and murmurs, “Goodbye, babygirl.” Then Audrey pecks your lips before reassuring you, “We’ll be back before you know it and the next time we go on vacation it will certainly be all three of us.”

The thought makes you smile and you nod before telling them, “Love you both.” Your girlfriends smile back and simultaneously reply, “Love you too.” Then you watch them walk into the airport until you can’t see them anymore and drive home.

By the time you get back to the house it’s just past noon. So you eat a light lunch of leftovers and put on some workout clothes. Once you’re dressed you head to their personal gym and workout in preparation for your stunt gig tomorrow. 

Your training session ends up being a couple hours long and by the time you’re finished, both your body and your clothes are soaked with sweat. So you go to your bathroom to take a long shower.

At first, you turn the water cold to cool yourself down from all of the activity you did. After about 15 minutes, you warm up the water and finish washing yourself. The warmth soothes your sore muscles and your body feels jelly-like when you step out of the shower. It’s at that moment that your exhaustion catches up with you and since you have no other place to go, you throw on some sweatpants and a loose tee to lounge in.

Once you’re dressed you step out to the living room and lay out on the couch, halfway watching the tv show that’s on while checking your messages and Instagram to see if there’s anything from either of your girlfriends. But for the moment there’s nothing. They weren’t supposed to land in Hawaii until 7:00 your time and that’s just over an hour from now. So you continue to listen to your favorite tv show that you have seen plenty of times before while you cook dinner and meal prep for the coming week.

In the midst of cooking, your phone goes off and you see it’s your group text between you, Billie, and Audrey. After wiping your hands clean, you unlock your phone to see it’s a picture of Audrey laughing at a candlelit dinner. You can practically hear her giggles and smile at the fact that she isn’t worried about preventing her eyes from crinkling or the hint of a wrinkle on her forehead creasing. She looks truly happy and worry-free which is rare for her.

Then another photo appears and it’s at the same dinner. But this one is a selfie and Audrey looks at the camera with a grin and rosy cheeks while Billie’s face is turned to kiss Audrey’s cheek. Even though the medium doesn’t face the camera directly, you see the corner of her luscious lips curved up into a mischievous smirk. They look so happy together.

Like how they were before you came along…

But you stop yourself from going down that road. 

They set this up before you came along. And you have to work anyway. That will keep you occupied. Next time you’ll be there.

You’re able to talk yourself down and text back, 

You both look beautiful. ❤️ Was the flight ok?

Right away your message says read and Billie replies, 

Thank you, sweetie. We made it here without a hitch. Audrey wants me to tell you she is sure you look beautiful too. 😘 We both hope your work goes well this week. 

You text with them for a little longer and they tell you what it’s like there while you share some details about the job you have. After going back and forth for a half an hour, you tell them goodnight and go to bed soon after, feeling better than before texting them…

The next morning you are up before the sun rises and drive to the set for some action film. You know it involves spies and you’re standing in for one of the secondary characters to do some of the more intense fight scenes and stunts. But it’s nothing too strenuous compared to your usual gigs.

After checking in you head to the hair and makeup trailer to get in the same attire as the character. The sun is nearly rising when you step out and as you walk to the first set you’re filming at you hear a familiar voice from behind you say, 

“Hey squirt.”

That makes you whip around to see your oldest brother standing there. Your grin mirrors his and you run up, giving him a hug. In response he chuckles and warns, “Don’t mess up your makeup, y/n.” 

The reminder makes you backup and you give a soft apology, walking over to the filming area next to him. While walking, you ask, “How have you been? I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever. Have you talked to Mom and Dad at all? I haven’t gotten a chance to. How are Michael and Jared?”

Your brother ends your questions with a laugh and says, “Woah, one question at a time, kid.” You roll your eyes at the nickname, however the stunt director calls you both over ending any further conversation. 

You and Asher focus on your work because even a small mishap can be detrimental. It turns out that the character your brother is stepping in for is the antagonist and since you’re stepping in for the sidekick of the main character quite a few of your scenes are together.

Today consists of learning, rehearsing, and filming combat scenes multiple times with multiple shots to make sure the movement and technique doesn’t look sloppy. By the time you’re finished working, the sun is setting and you feel exhausted. The number of times your brother body-slammed you and yanked you into a harsh chokehold leaves you sore. Of course you beat him up too, but he effortlessly shakes it off. Both of you walk to the makeup and hair trailer after changing into your normal clothes and Asher comments,

“You seem quiet. You tired, squirt?”

You look to him and nod with slumped shoulders. Then you ask, “You?” 

He smiles and replies, “Of course. And there was this one stunt double, I think she played the sidekick,” You giggle at his teasing and he continues, “I don’t know her name, but I’ll tell you what she beat my ass today. I’m gonna need to recover a little.”

You shove him with your shoulder, both of you laughing as you say, “Shut up.” He opens the trailer door for you while saying, “Really though. You’ve gotten stronger. I knew you could beat up Jared, but now I bet you could whoop him and Michael.” 

Your brother is not one to just give compliments out, so it means a lot that he actually told you that. Being 14 years younger made it hard to connect with him as a kid, but when you work like this it feels much more natural to interact with each other, adult to adult.

“Thanks. I've been working out more the past couple months and I’m glad that my efforts are paying off.” You respond. 

Asher sits in one chair and you grab your phone from your bag before sitting down next to him. It’s only then that you see the 30 text messages from your group chat with your girlfriends.

While you get your makeup and wig removed you begin to read through their texts starting from the first one this morning. First is a selfie of Audrey on what looks to be a balcony in the morning light. And the words she sends with the image are 

Good morning, sweetheart. ❤️ 

The next text is Billie replying, 

Morning beautiful. 😘

 Then Audrey responds,

Did you seriously text me in the same room?

 to which Billie teases, 

Did you seriously do the same thing? 😉😘

Their banter over texts makes you let out a soft laugh and your brother leans towards you while asking, “What’s so funny?” 

Immediately you close your phone and clutch it to your chest, squeaking, “Nothing.” Your cheeks burn as he teases with a grin, “Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing.’” Then his eyes widen in realization and he says in a more serious tone, “Oh my god, do you have a boyfriend?”

That completely throws you off and your ears begin to warm up when you sputter, “What? No Ash. I—”

But he cuts you off with a deep laugh and says, “Oh you definitely do. Is that why you haven’t talked to Mom and Dad in the past couple months?” Your mind races to answer and to make matters worse, your phone buzzes and lights up with a text notification. He stands up barefaced and you try to explain, “It’s not what you think—”

“Sure, y/n. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He taunts with a grin. Then he grabs his duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder before saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” He walks out and you let out a huff of annoyance at the misunderstanding. The makeup artist shoots you a sympathetic glance and assures you, “If it helps, I have brothers just like that.” The reassurance helps you to shrug it off and less than fifteen minutes later you’re finished and heading home.

When you enter the house, the oven’s clock shows it’s nearly 10:30. So you eat a light dinner while reading through the rest of their texts and photos. Once you’ve reached their most recent texts, you type your own, saying, 

Sorry I haven’t responded at all today. I was busy working, but I’m glad you’re having a good time. ☺️ You both deserve that and more. Goodnight. 

Your body aches as you climb into bed and within seconds, you’re out cold, completely spent from the day’s activities…

The next day begins the same way, waking up before the sun rises, driving to set and getting ready to shoot. However, as the makeup artist and hairstylist fix you up you watch Audrey and Billie’s Instagram stories.

Audrey’s first picture is the selfie she sent you with her hair tousled from sleep. Next is a boomerang of her clinking a glass of mimosa with another and you can tell it’s Billie just from the glimpse of her acrylic nails. She chose a bold coral color in honor of their vacation.

Finally, it’s a video showing Audrey’s legs on a lounge chair that’s partially in the water on the sun shelf of the infinity pool with the perfect view of the beach. Billie stands towards the edge and the sun beams down on them both.

Then the actress calls out Billie’s name, making her twist to face Audrey. She looks gorgeous wearing a designer, floppy hat with a brim that’s wide enough to shade her upper half and looks to be made with straw. And even though she chose a classic black one piece, there’s a deep V-neck cut that nearly reaches her navel exposing a generous amount of her skin. Only she could pull it off so effortlessly. As per usual, her oversized designer glasses are on and she gives Audrey a smile before blowing a kiss.

Billie’s story starts off with the same boomerang of their mimosas. Next is a video that begins with a view of the private beach. She slowly turns around and you see Audrey lounging on the same partially submerged chair in the sun shelf section of the pool. Their private villa stands proudly in the background and looks perfect. Then you hear her purr from behind the camera, “Hey sugar.”

Audrey wears a maroon-colored bikini that you and Billie convinced her to get shortly after you first met them. The actress was nervous that it would reveal any signs of aging she has, but both of you assured her she would look beautiful and Audrey does. She definitely looks like a stunning model. The only other thing she wears is her own designer sunglasses with a cat-eye shape to them. 

She giggles at Billie’s words and playfully makes a small splash with her foot towards the woman filming. You hear Billie’s rich chuckle in the background and the next part of her story is a link to an Instagram post.

So you click on it and see it’s a photo of them kissing each other, perfectly lit by the sunset. Then you read the lengthy description alongside it:

“I’m not one to get too sentimental, but this lovely woman deserves this and more. So here you go, sweetheart: The first time we met I instantly knew you were special and ever since then I’ve realized how extraordinary you really are. You’ve been my rock, my number 1 cheerleader, a shoulder to cry on, someone to laugh with, and the best partner I’ve ever had. I love you to the moon and back and then some. I’m so glad we finally have the time to take a true vacation together. I am yours completely until the end of time.”

Your eyes smart with tears, causing the makeup artist to ask, “Is something irritating your eyes? I can remove it and start over.” You come back to reality and clear your throat before replying, “No, it’s just my allergies being difficult today. But thank you.” 

Honestly you wish you could have a moment to let out your emotions. But you have work to do. So you focus on channeling those emotions into your stunts.

However, when rehearsing one of your fights with your brother, you slam him down on the mat hard enough to knock the wind out of him. 

Right away you gasp and say, “I’m so sorry Asher. Are you ok?” He takes your extended hand and you help him up while he replies, “I’m good. But you may want to lighten up your Hulk smashes.”

Normally you would laugh or even smile at his teasing, but your eyes glaze over and you feel your bottom lip quivering to keep your emotions in check. That reaction makes him get serious and he asks in a lower voice, “Hey, what’s wrong, squirt?” You sniff back your tears and shake your head while replying, “It’s nothing.” He goes to say more, however the stunt director calls you back to your places.

Fortunately, you wrap up earlier than yesterday, but you feel even more worn down from both your physical activity and keeping your emotions in check. And to make matters worse, you see Billie texts you about calling tonight. 

The notification goes off at the same time you and your brother are walking out to your cars and he playfully nudges you while teasing, “Your boyfriend texting you?”

Normally you would tease back, but in your aggravation, you shove him back and snap, “Will you just leave that alone?!”

He holds up his hands and cautiously replies, “My bad.” Then he keeps a little further away from you. Right away you feel horrible and when he moves to go to his car you plead, “Wait.” 

He pauses, looking to you and you say with a thick voice, “I’m sorry, Ash. Today just hasn’t been the best for me. But I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He gives you a small smile and responds, “Hey, we all have shitty days. I just figured you were upset at everything and everyone.”

Then his smile widens, and he jokes, “Also I didn’t want to get my ass handed to me again.” That makes you giggle, and he joins in before telling you, “I’ll see you tomorrow, squirt.” You tell him goodbye and walk over to your own car.

Once you’re inside and seated in the driver’s seat you text Billie that you’re free to call. Less than a minute later you see her caller ID. So you take a deep breath to center yourself and answer, saying, “Hello?”

Billie’s warm voice responds, “Hey, babygirl. How are you holding up?”

Should you tell the truth? No. You don’t want to ruin their vacation. You said you would be fine and you’re going to sound fine. They deserve to have a break from the world and you’re going to grant them that.

“Darling?” Audrey says, drawing your attention. You clear your throat and reply, “Sorry. I’m just a little tired from work. But I’m doing alright. How is Hawaii? It looks beautiful from the pictures I’ve seen.”

Audrey is the first one to respond, chirping, “Oh it is beautiful. I mean, I don’t think it gets better than this. The weather is perfect, the villa is gorgeous, and the food—oh my god, It’s the best I’ve ever ate—”

Billie cuts in and says, “We would love to take you here sometime, honey.” Then the actress pipes up, “Oh yes! And we could show you the best restaurants, the cutest shops, and more. Everything's amazing.”

While you want to be the supportive girlfriend, tears sting at your eyes once again. So, you swallow the lump of emotions in your throat and try to say in a neutral voice, “I’m so happy for you both. You definitely deserve this vacation.”

Right away both women hear the tremor in your voice, but Billie shakes her head when Audrey silently gestures if she should ask about it. 

Then the medium tests the waters by asking, “Besides working, do you have any other plans, sweetheart?” You try to shove the tears that spill out back into your eyes with your fists while you answer, “Honestly I’ll need a day or two to recover from this job. Otherwise I’ll probably do stuff around the house.”

By now, you’ve got yourself composed enough to joke, “So if you have a honey-do list I’ll have time to take care of it.” But it doesn’t sound like your normal voice even to you. Audrey leans closer to the phone as if desiring to give you a hug and encourages, “Well make sure to take care of yourself, darling. Don’t push yourself too much.”

You wipe your nose with a leftover napkin from a fast food run you made at some point trying to not make a sound. Then you ask, “What about you both? What are your plans?” 

Both women make eye contact and hesitate for a moment. However, Billie slowly answers, “Tomorrow we’re taking a boat ride around the area. My friend owns a yacht and offered to take us. And the next day we’re planning to spend part of the day looking around at the local marketplace. The last two days are open to either just relax at the villa or go out and do something.”

You hold your head in your hand that doesn’t hold the phone and remind yourself that this week isn’t about you. 

You need to be supportive. 

Your forehead feels heavy against your palm as you tell them, “It sounds like a great time. I’m sure you’ll have so much fun. I-I think I’m going to say goodnight. I’ve had this massive headache all day and it’s flaring up right now. Sorry.” 

Immediately Audrey gasps and asks, “It’s not from the stunts, is it? Did you hurt yourself at all? Should you go to the doctor?”

You can’t help but smile at her concern for you and you realize you feel envious, but also you just miss having your girlfriends around. 

“No, I didn’t get hurt. I think it’s a caffeine headache or I’ve probably had too much sugar. But I just took medicine so I should be alright in an hour or so.”

Billie soothes, “Well we hope you get feeling better soon, babygirl. We’ll talk to you later.” You collect yourself enough to reply in your usual voice, “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” Then Audrey quickly says, “We love you, y/n.” That feels like a punch to your gut and you wonder how you can be so selfish. You quickly reply, “Love you too.” Hanging up before you start crying…

Audrey lets out a sigh and asks, “Did we do something wrong?” Billie looks to her phone as if hoping it will give her the answer before responding, “No…I think she’s just feeling a little lonely. I mean, if her and I took a vacation while you worked or if I was the one working it wouldn’t exactly be easy.” 

The actress runs her fingers through her short hair before muttering, “Shit. But what should we say? I mean we have been working hard and this was set up before we even met y/n—”

Billie comes over to sit beside Audrey and cuts her off with a kiss. She reflexively responds to the medium, melting against her chest and opening herself up completely. 

After a moment, Billie breaks the kiss and leans her forehead against Audrey’s before murmuring, “We’ll just give it some time. She’s tired from work. But I’m sure she’s doing alright.” Audrey softly replies, “Ok.” Then they get ready for their evening swim, electing to skip on wearing swimsuits…

After getting so emotional the day before, you choose to turn your phone off for your last day on set. Honestly you need to keep your full attention on the stunts today. 

Your first one is to jump off the top of a 15-story building while pulling a gun out of the holster on your hip to shoot up at the people on the roof. Between coordinating the jump, the fall, and you pulling out the gun, it takes at least 5 times of you doing the stunt.

Next you are shooting at people behind you as you run and jump off of the edge of the building to grab onto one of the landing skids of a helicopter before climbing into it. 

That’s a complicated maneuver in itself, but you also have to do the whole thing while people are shooting at you. You don’t keep track of how many times you do that one, but it’s enough to drain nearly all your energy. And you still have one stunt left.

For this one you have to climb out of the passenger side window to get to the dash of the car. Then you hop onto the back of the car in front of you. That’s not too difficult, but you have to do all of this while the cars are moving at 70 mph. And the car you were on explodes behind you so you need to have a good grip on the car’s roof. 

But you love every minute of doing these stunts. The challenge and adrenaline rush are incomparable to anything else you’ve experienced.

When the director calls a wrap for the day, both you and your brother stagger over to hair and makeup. Even though he wasn’t in every scene you were, he did some additional scenes that you weren’t in. So both of you let out a groan when you sit in the chairs making you laugh, but also groan at your sides being sore and you laugh even more at how pathetic you sound.

After recovering, your brother asks, “You got any plans for tomorrow? Maybe we can catch up without fighting each other or filming life-threatening stunts?” You let out another chuckle, but hiss at your soreness before answering, “I’m available” So you decide where to meet for lunch and say goodbye for the night…

That evening while you take an ice bath you look over the texts you missed from Billie and Audrey as well as their Instagram stories to distract you from the biting cold. 

You know it will help in the long run, but ice baths are the worst.

Both of them show off the private yacht with different selfies and videos on their stories. And one of the pictures shows them both standing next to the railing so you can see the beautiful scenery behind them. Audrey is tucked so perfectly into Billie’s side, resting a hand on the arm that isn’t wrapped around her waist to keep her close to the medium.

Billie faces Audrey and dips her head so the tips of their noses touch and both women unabashedly smile at each other. 

While your chest pangs because you’ve never seen them look that happy with you around, you’re still emotionally spent from the day before and you feel too sore to overthink it. 

They send you a text telling you goodnight and you tell them goodnight, but that’s basically all of the interaction you have. And you feel guilty for being relieved that more wasn’t said. And yet, you desire so much more…

When you see your brother dressed in casual clothes and cleaned up, he looks quite different. He must think the same thing because he teases, “Well, you clean up pretty nice, kid.” You roll your eyes and playfully retort, “You look…acceptable.” 

At that time the waiter comes to get your orders and after they’re gone, you decide to not beat around the bush, asking, 

“Ok…how upset is Mom about me not calling?” 

He grins and jokes, “On a scale of one to ten, you almost at Michael’s level.” That makes you snort and reply with a dramatically innocent tone, “No way. I’m her favorite.” 

This time he snorts and banters, “Yeah. Her favorite girl.” You mockingly laugh before sticking out your tongue.

After taking a sip of water, Asher says, “But really, I would call them. They’re used to Michael ignoring them. But you’ve never been this disconnected before.” 

You do feel guilty about neglecting your parents. But the past couple months you’ve spent every waking moment getting to know Billie and Audrey. Well…that and you didn’t know how to explain your relationship without causing panic.

You nod in understanding and assure him, “I’ll call them.” Then you smile a little as you inquire, “Speaking of Mike, have you heard anything from him? Is he still in law school?” 

Your brother lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose when he replies, “As far as I know. But I haven’t spoken with him for, hell, six months. So who knows”

The both of you continue to talk about Michael attending law school and Jared getting a master’s degree in business. At one point, your food comes, and you continue to converse about family and future gigs as you eat. However, when you finish off your meal, Asher says, “Don’t kill me, but do you really have a boyfriend? I won’t get upset or anything. I’m just curious.”

You would rather be truthful with him now than have him tell his assumptions to your parents. So you take a deep breath and reply, “I don’t have a boyfriend,” then you avert your eyes, wringing your hands under the table as you continue, 

“But I…I have a girlfriend. Well…technically two girlfriends.”

Your whole-body burns, and you keep quiet, bracing yourself for the worst. However, he calmly says, “Hey squirt,” You look up to see him smiling and he soothes, “I’m not mad at you. That’s not something that I would necessarily do. But it’s your life and as long as no one’s getting hurt you can do whatever the hell you want.” 

You’re both shocked and grateful he doesn’t harshly judge your decision and you let out a breath of relief before saying, “Oh thank god.” But you grow serious and plead, “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad—”

He chuckles and assures you, “My lips are sealed.” And you let yourself relax back into the chair, feeling like a weight is lifted off of your chest. Meanwhile your brother finishes off his water before asking, “What’s their names? I may know them.” 

You bite your lip, but slowly answer, “It’s Billie Dean Howard and Audrey Tindall.” His eyes widen and he asks, “Like…the celebrities Billie Dean Howard and Audrey Tindall?” 

You stiffen up again and slowly nod, nervous about where he’s going with this.

His next question is, “Weren’t they a couple already?” 

You look down to your fidgeting hands and defend, “But they’ve welcomed me in.” When you do look back up, your brother frowns and his eyes look like your mother’s when she is about to cry. Then he says in a softer tone, “Y/n. That’s a publicity stunt.”

Your heart drops to your stomach and you recoil away from him while saying, “No. They—They’ve said they love me. And they even let me move into their home.” His eyes soften even more, and he gently speaks as if not wanting to startle a feral animal, 

“When does their tv special premier with Audrey starring and Billie being the inspiration?” 

Your eyes well up with tears and you whimper, “Next week.”

He pauses a moment before saying, “Having you around will draw attention. And in Hollywood, any publicity is good publicity.” Tears being to slip down your cheeks as you shake your head and deny, “No Asher. You don’t understand. They’ve been so loving and supportive. They wouldn’t do that to me.” 

He holds out his hand and asks, “Aren’t they in Hawaii right now?”

You nod and say, “They had this planned 6 months ago before I met them. And I had work anyways.” He gestures for you to take his hand and your trembling hand does take his. 

Then he gives it a small squeeze and murmurs, “Both women have millions of dollars to their name and you’re telling me there’s no way they could find a way for you to join them? Y/n, they managed to convince their old friend that’s more like an acquaintance to take them out on her private yacht.”

You want to cry and scream along with a whole range of other emotions at one time. Your tears begin to fall faster when you whimper, “But they told me they love me. They’ve told me things they haven’t told anyone else. They’ve always treated me well.”

You brother gently shushes you and lets go of your hand to give you a napkin to wipe your eyes with. Then he soothes, “I could be wrong. But this kind of thing happens all the time. It’s nothing personal and they probably did enjoy your company.”

 A hiccup of a sob escapes you and you feel like you’re going to throw up as you can’t help but wonder if he really is right. You settle yourself before making too much of a scene in the restaurant and he murmurs, “I’m sorry, squirt. I didn’t mean to upset you like that. Maybe you should go to the source and ask.”

By now you’re filled with numbness and rejection as you dumbly nod. 

Your brother pays the bill and when you get to your cars, he pulls you into a bearhug, murmuring, “I’m sorry, kid. But if you need anything at all and I mean anything, I’m just a text or phone call away.” 

By now you feel on autopilot from shock and flatly answer, “Thanks.” Then you head to their home and the whole car ride you feel unnaturally calm as everything begins to make sense now.

You know you shouldn’t, but you do look at their Instagram stories partially out of curiosity and partially to hate-watch when you get home. 

Billie’s comes up first and it’s a picture of Audrey asleep and cuddled under the covers. The medium added the text “My sleeping beauty” and Audrey does look beautiful with her hair tousled just right and her face perfectly relaxed.

The next segment is a boomerang showing the busyness of the marketplace. 

Then she has a video that begins with her front facing camera as she takes a sip from a colorful cocktail. After she flips the camera so you can see Audrey sitting across from her. Billie slides the drink towards the middle of the table while saying, “Try this.”

Audrey’s eyes narrow a little, but she slowly slides the drink towards her and takes a cautious sip. Right away her eyes widen, and she takes another sip before saying, “This is delicious!” making Billie laugh. 

The last thing in her story is a picture of their hands intertwined with each other on the beach.

Audrey’s story is next and begins with a video of her in front of a large mirror. You can see Billie’s reflection in the mirror as she finishes applying her lipstick. And when she straightens up Audrey looks to her and they share a brief kiss. The text with the video says, “A makeup tutorial for that freshly kissed look on your lips.”

The second thing is a photo of Audrey holding Billie’s hand from behind as the medium guides her through the bustling market. 

Finally, there is a boomerang of her kissing Billie’s cheek while Billie’s designer sunglasses reflect the gorgeous sunset and her lips sport a proud smirk.

Your heart aches at seeing them so happy without you. And you get mad at yourself for taking some pleasure in seeing their faces. That’s when you see Audrey posted a photo.

The pair stands in front of the same mirror as the one in her video. But in this one, Audrey stands in the center and Billie is behind her, wrapping both of her arms around the actress’s waist to land on her middle. Audrey grins at their reflection while Billie looks to where she places a kiss in the crook of Audrey’s neck.

You look to the photo’s caption and read,

“After my darling girlfriend posted something so nice and thoughtful, I figured I would return the favor. Billie I’ve never met someone like you. I knew the moment we talked that we shared a special connection. And we still do. I’m so honored to portray you in your upcoming tv special. You’ve made me a better person and the connection we have is unmatched. I love you more than words can express, but I thought I would try to give you a glimpse of my adoration with these words. I love you, Billie Dean Howard.”

She’s never met someone like Billie…their connection is unmatched…oh god Asher was right. You are just a pawn in their game of chess to use when it’s convenient. You’re expendable.

A broken sob escapes your throat and you crumble to the kitchen floor wondering how you could be so stupid. Your phone lights up in your hand, so you pick it up and see in between tears it’s a text from Audrey. Just seeing her name makes you cry harder while also getting infuriated at being so used.

You open your messages to see she texted, 

How’s LA holding up? Still smoggy? The sky is so clear here I swear we can see every star out there. It’s crazy to think we’re both under the same stars. 💖 

You laugh as you continue to weep, thinking about Audrey texting you about the stars while you’re leaning against cabinet doors as support while you break down on the kitchen floor. Then you text back, 

That is crazy. LA is still standing and covered in smog as usual.

After sending that you lean back against the cabinet doors, overwhelmed with small sobs and hiccups as the implications of their “love” settle over you.

Where would you even go? Your brother could help, but still. And what if they’re upset when you end things? They could ruin your career before it even begins. 

Your fists roughly rub your eyes while you angrily mutter, “How could I be so stupid? I’m such an idiot. Two A-list celebrities interested in me? Get real.”

Your tearful monologue that’s broken up by sporadic sobs is interrupted by your phone lighting up. Against your better judgement you unlock your phone to see Billie texted this time asking, 

Have you been keeping up with us on Instagram? There’s some pictures on there we didn’t text you.

This time your choked laugh turns into an anguished cry. You’re beyond words so you yell at the world, banging your fist into the cabinet door while you cry. But all that does is make your hand hurt and your throat sore. So you take a shuddering breath and shakily text back, 

Of course. 😘  I’m glad to see you two so happy. It makes my heart happy. ❤️

By now you’ve made it back down to small hiccups and see Billie’s texted back, 

You’re always so supportive. 🥰 We were talking about going out sometime next week to wherever you want. There may be paparazzi, but we’ll make sure to have security.

You can’t help but chuckle at how accurate your brother’s prediction really was. Then you mindlessly text back, 

Sounds good. I hope you have a good rest of your vacation.

Audrey is the one who replies this time with 

Thank you, darling. We’ll wish you a goodnight. Love you. 💕

You recoil at those last two words and your emotions rush back to the surface. So you quickly text back, 

Love you too.

Even if it will compromise your future career you need to get out of here. 

So you call your one life-line. Your brother answers in a groggy voice, “Hello?” You whimper, “Sorry for waking you up Ash. But I wondered if—”

However, your throat catches and you start to cry. You say between sniffs, “You were right about them. C-Could I stay with you for a couple nights?” 

Your crying wakes him up and he calmly replies, “Of course. Y/n take a couple deep breaths. You’re hyperventilating.” It’s only then that you realize it. You take a couple deep,shuddering breaths and he says, “How about you pack up what you can and come over tonight?” You sniff and answer, “O-ok.” So he says he’ll see you in a little bit.

After saying goodbye, you pull out your suitcase and stuff your clothes and knickknacks scattered throughout the house. Then you put any remaining items into your duffle bag and backpack. 

As you pass through the house and take specific clothing items of theirs out of your own wardrobe, you continue to cry and feel like your heart is being ripped apart. 

Walking out of the door makes you feel a painful finality, but you don’t go back, loading up your car with all of your belongings and driving to your brother’s apartment…

You manage to bring everything in one trip and when you knock on the door, your brother opens to see your eyes that are swollen from crying and broken expression. Immediately he says, “Oh, y/n.” and you crumble into his outstretched arms, whimpering into his shirt, “I’m such an idiot.” 

Asher rubs your back and soothes, “You’re not an idiot. I’ve made mistakes too. How about we get your stuff in here.”

Your brother helps you carry your stuff into the darkened apartment before leading you to sit on the couch. You were nervous that your brother would reprimand you or chastise you for acting so rash. But he holds you in his familiar bear hug and soothes, “It’s ok, kid. This isn’t your fault.” By the time you’re settled to small sniffles, you can’t hardly keep your eyes open.

He seems to notice and says, “I’ll tuck you in and we can talk about it later.” You’re shocked at his kindness once again as he pulls a blanket over you. Then he murmurs a soft goodnight and you fall asleep within seconds, too exhausted to care anymore about everything that’s happened…

The next day you’re awakened by the door shutting and your eyes feel raw and sensitive from yesterday when you open them to see it’s daylight out. The beaming sun makes you sit up to see your brother kicking off his shoes with a couple grocery bags and a case of your favorite soda. 

When he turns to see you up, he gives you a smile and says, “Morning, squirt.” Your voice is hoarse from crying when you ask, “What time is it?”

He slides the case of soda into the fridge while answering, “Just past 11:00.” That makes your eyes widen and you admonish, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Your brother closes the fridge and looks at you from the kitchen answering, “Y/n, you called me at 12 in the morning and by the time you actually were laid out on the couch it was nearly 2. And who knows how long you had been crying.”

Then he walks over with the grocery bags and tells you, “I got your favorite chips and cookies. Also, I thought I remembered you liking this candy and homemade popcorn.” As he sets the items down, your lip trembles so you bite down on it, overwhelmed at his kindness. 

After calming down enough to speak you rasp, “Why are you doing all of this? I wouldn’t be upset if you left me alone. You don’t have to pamper me.”

He sits next to you and drapes and arm over your shoulders before tugging you close so your head leans on his shoulder as he replies, “Because you’re my little sis and you just had your heart broken.” 

Then he pauses for a beat before teasing, “Also it was this or killing them and I can’t afford the plane ticket.”

That makes you exclaim his name and shrug his arm off of you before giving it a punch. Your brother holds up his hands in mock surrender and defends, “Kidding!” Then he rubs the place you punched him while grumbling, “You didn’t have to go all beast mode on me, Hulk. I’m still recovering from being practically body slammed into another dimension.”

You smirk in satisfaction but get distracted by the throbbing in your hand and look down to see your knuckles are swollen and have gnarly darkened bruises covering them. Asher looks too and comments, “Now I know that didn’t come from one punch. What did you do, Beat someone up?” 

Your face burns at the memory and you mumble, “No. Last night, when I was crying…I punched a cabinet door…multiple times.”

Your brother tries to stifle his laughter but fails miserably and jokes, “If your hand looks this rough, I’d hate to see how beat up the door is.” You turn away to hide your grin and retort, “Shut up.” He continues to laugh when he stands up and tells you, “I’ll get an icepack. You pick out something to watch.”

While he’s rummaging around in the kitchen you turn on the tv and scroll through one of his streaming subscriptions. However, your search halts when you see your phone light up.

Before you can think your phone is in your hand and you see your group chat has 15 messages. So you open it to see they sent you some pictures before asking about you. 

Maybe…Maybe they do ca—

Your brother cuts off your thoughts, asking, “Is that them?” You whip around in surprise and admit, “Yeah. They asked about my day.” 

He comes around to the front of the couch and hands you the ice pack before sitting beside you and advising, “I wouldn’t respond.”

You must look skeptical because he explains, “Breakups are kind of like taking off band aids. While it’s painful to just rip it off in one go, the pain is gone much faster than trying to slowly peel it off.” It breaks your heart, but you know it’s the truth. So you set your phone to the side and pick out a movie, icing your hand while eating your favorite snacks…

“Billie, she still hasn’t answered any of our texts or calls.” 

If the medium had a cigarette she would be smoking it. Hell, she’d probably be through most of the pack by now. Instead she chomps on multiple pieces of mint flavored gum while pacing the room. 

Audrey’s words make her pause and she theorizes, “Maybe she’s just really busy.” The actress half-heartedly agrees, but both women don’t believe that’s the case.

As a last-ditch effort, Audrey picks up her phone and says, “I’ll call her one more time.” As expected, it goes to your voicemail so she pleads, “Y/n, darling, if you could give us a call, we would appreciate it. Billie and I are worried about you not responding. So, if you could call or text either one of us that would be great. Love you.”

Those last words make you whimper when you hear them on your voicemail. Asher had gone to bed an hour ago and while you had promised you would ignore their call, you made the mistake of listening to their voicemails. 

After listening to Audrey’s, you tap on Billie’s voicemail from earlier and hear her say, “Babygirl, I don’t know if you’ve been busy, but Audrey and I are concerned about you. If you get a chance to call us that would put our minds at ease. We love you and miss you so much.”

Maybe you were wrong…Your heart feels torn between your girlfriends’ words and your brother’s words. You just need some time to think. You’re already moved out anyways.

The next day your brother convinces you to spend the afternoon at Venice Beach for a little distraction. So you eat a late lunch and casually browse the local shops before ending up at the beach to watch the sunset.

On the other hand, Billie and Audrey have to take a taxi from the airport to their home and feel flabbergasted at your behavior. You seemed so happy earlier this week. Now it’s like you’ve dropped off the face of the world. 

But the women go into a full-blown panic when they don’t see you or any of your personal items. This time Billie does have a cigarette to smoke and Audrey weeps while texting you, 

Y/n please text us. All of your stuff is gone, and we have no idea why. We just want to talk so we can understand what changed.

You read the message to your brother and he admits, “I mean, it is true. But do you feel in a healthy place to talk to them?” You know you probably shouldn’t, but in your heart, you do want to talk to them. 

So you nod and mutter, “I’m sorry.” Asher shakes his head and assures you, “Don’t be, squirt. This may bring more closure to the whole thing.” So you take a deep breath before texting back, “Ok. What time should I come over?”

Audrey lets out a sob of relief and exclaims, “Bill! She said she’ll come over!” The medium rushes over to read the text to confirm it’s real and not just a figment of their desperation. Then she takes the cigarette out of her mouth and suggests, “Say noon and we can have lunch together.” 

So they ask you over for lunch and you agree, feeling a little excited to see them. At the same time, you feel nervous about confronting them, but you know they deserve an explanation…

The next morning you fix your hair in the mirror, trying to conceal your trembling hands from your brother. Fortunately, he’s occupied with the video game he plays. So you pick up your purse while stating, “I’m heading out.” 

That makes him pause the game and he looks over to you when he encourages, “You’ve got this, y/n. And if you need me, I’m a phone call away.” You thank him with a small smile and walk to your car, getting in and starting to drive before you talk yourself out of going.

By the time you pull into their driveway, you feel physically ill. There is no way you can eat anything. Your whole-body trembles as you walk up to the door and you want to run away more than anything. But you press the doorbell and know you need to deal with this in order to move on.

Billie is the one to answer and if there is a perfect type of suntan, Billie has it in addition to the natural highlights in her hair from vacation. She gives you a polite smile and says, “Hello, honey.”

Right away you want to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness. But you make yourself keep standing and stutter, “H-hi.” 

The medium lets you in and murmurs, “Audrey’s in the kitchen.” You cross your arms over your chest, feeling like the space you had gotten used to living in is foreign. Billie leads you to the kitchen where you see Audrey sitting at the table.

The actress is decent enough to give you a half smile, but the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. You try to be amiable and say, “Hello.” 

Her eyes are shadowed when she replies, “Hi.” In the higher tone she uses when she’s annoyed but has to keep face.

You flinch at the tone and look to the floor, your shoulders slumping forward and you cross your arms even tighter. Billie attempts to smooth things over when suggesting, “Well lunch is ready to eat—”

But you cut her off by saying, “Can we talk? I mean…I don’t think I can make myself eat right now and I-I think I should explain things.”

Audrey scoffs and Billie walks over to her while gently warning, “Audrey,”

But the actress looks at you with her bottom lip trembling as she says, “Maybe you could enlighten us as to why you just stopped responding to our texts and calls. Or how you left us stranded at the airport. Do you even realize how much we care about you? The whole time we were worried if something happened to you. And you couldn’t just respond to us once?”

By now your fists are clenched by your sides and your nostrils flare as you fire back, “Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t at your beck and call us usual. Maybe I realized what I really am to you both.”

Billie’s brows furrow and she asks, “What are you talking about?”

That makes your body steam with anger and you let out a humorless laugh before retorting, “You don’t need to keep up the act anymore. My brother told me all about what this is. All I am is some publicity stunt to promote your own careers and I was stupid enough to fall for it hook, line, and sinker!”

Audrey goes to speak, but now you are heated, and tears begin to fall out of your eyes as you yell, “I loved you! I trusted you and gave my heart to you entirely! And what do I get? Seeing my girlfriends living it up on some private beach. I saw your Instagram posts. Every single one.”

Then you look to Billie and continue, “I saw your post about Audrey being the best partner you’ve ever had!” 

Then you look to Audrey and have to lower your voice so it’s less hoarse, but keep aggressive when you say, “I saw your post too. Including the description of your connection being unmatched. I saw every fucking thing.”

“I wanted to be the chill girlfriend who couldn’t be bothered. But it turns out I’m a dumb ass who would never even have a chance to be your girlfriend in the first place!”

The room goes quiet except for Audrey’s sniffing and your own from crying. Billie wipes away a stray tear with her thumb as the actress whimpers, “Y/n, others may do different things for publicity. But I swear on everything that’s not what you are to us. We love you so much.” 

Then Billie says, “We regret not bringing you with us. That was unfair to put you in that position and I’m sorry your brother saw the problem with that before we did. Audrey is right though. We love you so much. If you could give us a second chance, I know we could learn from this and have an even closer relationship. But if you don’t want to, we’ll understand too.”

You have never, ever seen them this emotional and there’s no way this reaction could be ingenuine. You may not know all about them, but you do know those are expressions of heartbreak. And if this really was a publicity stunt, surely they would have let you walk out by now. But you need to make sure. 

Your eyes brim with tears and you rasp, “Y-you promise this isn’t a publicity thing? I’m not being used?”

Immediately Audrey shakes her head and assures you, “No. We would never ever do that to you, y/n. Everything we have said or done with you is always genuine.” Your lips tremble as you look between them and you pause for a moment. 

But you know what your heart wants. So you run over to them.

Immediately both women wrap their arms around you to hug you close and you cry, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Both women shush your apologies and one of them presses a comforting kiss to your temple while the other keeps you from collapsing in their arms. Then Billie soothes, “You don’t need to apologize, babygirl.” 

Just being in their embrace provides a comfort that you have pined for since they left. The sense of safety and comfort flows through their touch and permeates to your core.

They hold you close and murmur soothing words of their own apologies while you calm back down. After waiting a couple minutes from the time you only make small sniffles, Audrey slowly asks, “Does this mean we can have a group cuddle session on the couch now?” 

Her suggestion makes you smile against Billie’s blouse which feels wonderfully smooth against your face and you nod in agreement. So each woman moves to take one of your hands and you walk to the living room.

Once there, Billie pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Audrey gives her a look, but Billie puts one in her mouth, so she sounds funny keeping the cigarette in between her teeth while saying, “Listen. I’ve earned this cigarette.”

The actress can’t deny that, so she keeps quiet as Billie lights up the cigarette.

After taking a long drag, the medium lets out a sigh and visibly relaxes, rolling her shoulders back and stretching her neck. Then she brings over an ashtray and places it on the side table closest to her. Meanwhile Audrey sits towards the middle of the couch.

You sit next to her and Billie sits on your other side and the end of the couch. Once all 3 of you are seated, Billie takes the cigarette out of her mouth and purrs with a warm smile, “Come here you two.” 

You snuggle up into her side so you practically sit on her lap, not bothered by the smoky scent. Then Audrey scoots close to you and wraps her arms around your middle to get even closer before burying her nose into the soft juncture between your head and shoulder to inhale your distinct scent. 

The medium chuckles at how close you are when you have a whole couch to spread out on while letting out a puff of smoke. But she loves it, asking, “Feel cozy, darling?” 

You nod and answer, “Yeah.” Honestly you forgot how nice this is, but your body has the muscle memory and like riding a bike you easily adjust and melt into them.

After a moment, Audrey cautiously asks, “Would you be upset if we watched some tv, love?” 

It sounds nice to be distracted from your rollercoaster of emotions for a little bit, so you tell her it’s okay and she turns it to some home improvement show. Before long, she’s providing a running commentary about the design choices and things begin to feel like before.

You didn’t know this was possible, but you manage to melt into them even more, practically purring at being so cozy between their warm, inviting bodies. After she finishes off her cigarette, Billie uses her free hand to gently scratch the base of your neck, taking care to not get her fingers tangled in your hair. The sensation makes you feel all warm and tingly and you look to the medium’s honey eyes, hoping she can see how good you feel.

The medium gives you a knowing smile and softly asks, “Do you feel better, sweetheart?” You nod, looking down to conceal your demure smile while Audrey scoffs and mutters, “I can’t believe they went with a galley kitchen when they have plenty of room for an open concept. That would have looked so much better.” 

Billie shares a smile with you about Audrey’s reactions. Meanwhile the actress has her feet propped up on the plush ottoman in front of the couch and leans against you, mindlessly brushing her fingers up and down the top of your thigh.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, so you move to pull it out to see it’s your brother. His text message says, “You ok, squirt?” 

Billie takes the opportunity to lightly nibble on your earlobe. You let out a giggle at the feeling and duck away, but don’t go too far. The medium chuckles and asks, “Do you feel ok, babygirl?” You look over her face and don’t feel any of the earlier insecurities you had earlier. So you answer, “I do.”

Then you bite your lip unsure how to phrase it. But you try to, starting, “I want to apologize about earlier. I was being insecure and didn’t consider you both—”

“If you start apologizing one more time, I will give you something to occupy your mouth.” Audrey warns, cutting you off. That makes you turn to see the actress’s attempt at a serious expression although her lips twitch in an attempt to keep from smiling. 

You decide to play along, raising your eyebrows when you tease, “You honestly think you could top me again?”

That makes her eyes widen and she replies more as a question, “Yes?” 

Billie chuckles from the other side and murmurs, “Oh Audrey, I think we’ve got ourselves a switch.” Her cheeks turn bright red and she bites her lip.

You grin and look down to your phone, texting back, “I’m good. We talked and worked things out. I’ll come over tomorrow to explain. Thank you for everything.” Then you tuck your phone back into your pocket and look to Audrey again. 

Once you look down at her face you joke, “It’s ok, honey. You’ll only have to submit to both of us sometimes.”

Her mouth gapes while Billie laughs and murmurs, “I like this idea. What about you, Audrey? You think you can handle submitting to 2 women?” The actress lets out a small whimper and nods, clearly turned on by the idea. You smile at her reaction while Billie purrs, “I missed you so much, babygirl. And I think these next couple weeks will be a good time for us to become…reacquainted.”

Now your cheeks warm and you can’t help but smile when you look between their beaming faces. Then Audrey says, “Listen, I hate to ruin the mood, but I am absolutely famished. So could we order some pizza? I desperately need some greasy, American comfort food.”

The comment causes you to snort while the medium assures her, “I’ll order some pizza.” Before you can even think about it, you blurt out, 

“I love you both.”

For a moment, all 3 of you go quiet and you wonder if you made a mistake. However, Audrey comes up to your face and gives you a kiss before murmuring, “I love you too, darling.” 

Then Billie places one of her fingers under your chin to guide you to face her so she can kiss you. After lingering for a couple seconds, Billie parts and whispers, “I love you too. We love you so much, y/n.”

You bite your lower lip and it is nice to feel your cheeks tight from smiling instead of so many shed tears. The medium shifts so she can see both you and Audrey when she tells you, “Just give me a minute and I’ll have two pizzas on the way with your favorite toppings for my special girls.”

Without planning it, you and Audrey say thank you at the same time, making you both laugh. Billie lets out a sound of amusement while she scrolls through her phone. Once she finds the number, the medium stands up and says, “I’ll be back.” Then she steps into the kitchen to call for the pizza. 

You hear her talking smoothly to the person taking your order. However after she hangs up, Billie peeks her head out and asks, “Hypothetically of course…if salad was left out for, say, nearly 5 hours would that still be good?”

You both laugh, only now remembering the intention to eat lunch and you reply, “Unfortunately, the salad is at the point of no return. Hypothetically of course.” 

Billie grins and says, “Well the pizza is on the way, so we won’t be without food.” Then she disappears and you hear something being thrown away. Audrey giggles next to you, making you grin and while things aren’t perfect, there is no other place you would rather be.

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

[ladyinshiningarmor]

tagged by @shimmering-balance-act several days ago 💛

1. nickname: i've had many but nowadays bree, breezy, and often times my name is said "breh" v aggressively when i'm being trolled by my bf and his friends so that too i guess

2. zodiac: libra 💀

3. height: 5'3" >:(

4. hogwarts house: oh we still do these? gryffindor. great, now i'm the laughingstock of gen z. also fuck terfs

5. last thing i googled: copper iud reviews lol

6. song stuck in my head: happy to be here by julien baker

7. followers: 400-something but only like ten of you interact with me lmao

8. amount of sleep: i refuse to get less than 8 now since recovering years ago from being a sleep-deprived dumb undergrad

9. lucky number: 7 or 17

10. dream job: old-timey doctor who could do house calls in their small town but like, with modern medicine and no commentary about being a woman. but that's not an option anymore so being a PA is actually pretty close to my dream gig

11. wearing: scrubs bc i'm at work, rip

12. favorite author: uhh i genuinely don't know, it depends on for what quality of their writing we're talking about y'know?

13. favorite instrument: big thumping drums currently. just like the deepest bass possible, i wanna feel it vibrating the floor

14. aesthetic: armor and swords and ridiculously ornate buildings with lots of sunlight

15. favorite song: lol i could never choose, but my number ones for the last two years have been "night shift" by lucy dacus and "your best american girl" by mitski so

16. favorite animal: cats, but only mine specifically

17. random: i've had a coffee and two bang energy drinks today and i'm still going to sleep like a baby bc i'm so tired. pls pray that 7:08 comes quickly so i can clock tf out

tagging @indifferentomens @thisbrilliantsky @hummingbirdsaltimolockia @libraryofjoy and, as usual, any mutual who hasn't already been tagged in the mutual tag meme infinity loop