#board or anything. so she’s there by herself this one day; it’s a quiet day (because they’ve just opened and no one knows they’re there)

[smashing-teacups]

My very dear friend (who is so grumpy that J&C hijacked her brain again when she wanted a break 🤣) @theawkwardterrier tagged me in an invite to share a section of one of my WIPs. So hey, how about a peek at an upcoming chapter of Atonement? 👀

______

In the second month, they began their respective job searches in earnest.

On that particular front, Claire had an undeniable advantage: there was a terrible nursing shortage throughout the UK, and more job postings than she knew what to do with. She had enough experience to be accepted at practically every bedside position, and so she had the ability to be selective.

A very fortunate state to find herself in, she found out rather quickly, as there were a number of positions that… well, positions she wasn’t sure she would be best suited for anymore.

Wound care, for example, was definitely out. Just reading the vague clinical expectations under the first post made her snap her laptop shut, her skin chilled and mind numb. She held Jamie from behind later that night, tears soaking her pillow as she traced the scars that had once been open flesh. The memories were as vivid as if she were living them all over again; she could see the snake of saturated pink gauze she’d pulled out of his back by the meter, watch her gloved hand depress a syringe of morphine into his IV, hear her own murmurs of reassurance as she reached wrist-deep into the cavernous wounds to begin packing them again…

So, no. Nothing with wound care.

Anything on a neurology floor was likewise out of the question. The prospect of monitoring an EEG took her right back to the endless days and nights when those incomprehensible squiggling lines were burned into her retinas, watching for any change that might signify a seizure. The ICUs in general were out for that same reason. Just the sounds alone — the non-stop beeping of monitors and IVs, the whoosh of the ventilator and hiss of suction equipment—

She couldn’t.

Her damned glass face as she scrolled the job boards must have told her husband far more than she ever would have said aloud; it didn’t take long before she woke to find a folded newspaper on the kitchen table alongside her morning coffee. Circled once, with a question mark beside it, was an advertisement from a local primary care office in town, seeking a clinic nurse.

Claire looked over the top of the paper to find Jamie watching her apprehensively, as though unsure if he’d overstepped. The moment she caught his eye, he dropped his gaze and blew on his steaming coffee. “It’d be quieter than ye’re used to,” he said around a careful sip, “but somethin’ to consider, mebbe.”

Softening with tenderness, she reached for his hand across the table. “No, it’s—it’s a good thought. Thank you. Maybe I need the quiet, I don’t know.” With a sigh, she smoothed her free hand over her face and back into her hair. “That’s just it, I don’t… I don’t know what it is I want any more.” Peering up at her husband through her lashes, she admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “Suppose I’ve just been hoping I’ll know it when I see it.”

Returning the smile so that his soft morning eyes crinkled with it, Jamie brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sure you will. The right job’ll find ye when it’s meant to, Sassenach. I know it.”

[fingertipsmp3]

Just remembered another fucked up paint story (will put in tags because idk I like talking in tags more than actually in the post)

[caitlinbueckers]

baby daddy.

paige bueckers x reader

3.2k

like guys . I don’t even know what to say rn . this is PURE fucking filth like yas there is some exposition in the beginning and its dialogue heavy but like ✋✋ just know this is fucking porn . So sorry for anon if this isn’t up to par but the wormz took over my brain and this is all i have to show for it . Love u so much for the idea tho <3

ANYWAYZZZ !!!! you and paige buy a strap. filth ensues.

MAJOR 18+ WARNING!!!!

“babe.”

it’s deadpan, borderline exasperated as you turn your head, meeting a wildly unimpressed expression from paige that makes you snort out loud, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

in your girlfriends hand, dangling from her fingers, is a dildo of some sorts, shaped horrifically in the form of an anatomically incorrect fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your surprised laughter from bubbling out, taking a step closer with a look of awe.

“dude, you’re kidding,”

“babe, why are we even here? like, deadass i have two hands and ten fingers, this is so extra.”

to be fair, she had a point— those two hands and ten fingers had never done you wrong in the slightest, but this was simply an act of impulse, deciding just that morning after you guys had spent the time with each others hands down each others pants, you’d declared in a sudden rush of post-nut clarity, that you simply had to see paige in a strap.

which, was met with a bit of intrigue and then, obviously, because paige bueckers is competitive in anything she can consider herself good at, couldn’t help but interrogate you in outright disbelief.

‘so, what i’m hearing is that i’m not enough?” it was said in the tone she uses when her sarcasm is over the top, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, slapping her arm.

‘baby, stop being so dramatic, oh my god.”

you’d kissed her to silence her delusions as to why you’d even brought it up in the first place, before explaining ever so gently that it was never a matter of what paige couldn’t do, and more so about the capabilities of what she could do, and that you promised it would be fun.

truly, she was on board after you’d told her that for some girls it was hard to use, so that, ‘if she couldn’t handle it, she could give up’ — of course paige would never back down from a challenge.

“you do have two hands, and i love them just the same. i just wanna try it, okay? is that okay?” you say it in your quiet, softest voice, and maybe you’re kinda being a brat because you know paige could never say no to you when you talk like that, or when you walk up to her, tracing a thumb against her cheek before pulling her down to peck her nose.

it’s immediate the way she chases your lips, presses a quick one to your mouth before she’s rolling her eyes, “anything for my baby, i guess.” but, she’s smiling, and that feels like more progress than before.

in the end, you guys end up picking something pretty beginner level— it’s only six inches, has a dual ended pleasure vibrator nestled in the crotch for the one wearing it and due to paige’s prompt request, it is in fact purple, which only makes you laugh at the excited shimmy she does as you both walk out, hand in hand, the black privacy sack swinging between her fingers.

“thought you were so against the idea?” you couldn’t help but tease her once you guys are in the car, music already blasting— you know all her music without really knowing it, but it’s definitely something by brent faiyaz.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “until i thought about getting to fuck you with it.” she says coyly, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow before she’s pulling out of the lot, hand secured on your thigh.

you guys don’t really get to it that night, or the next day— instead settling for the slow, tired morning sex that you guys indulge in before her practice and then after, the languid, loving type of sex you both revel in for the evening when she’s back at the dorms.

no, for some reason, it isn’t until a week or so later that it suddenly comes up— and even then, you weren’t necessarily thinking about it too hard, not until the teams all at dinner. you, paige, KK, and aubrey all sit together, and it’s really in moments like these that you love to actually participate in conversations with the team— KK and aubrey had been one of the first to welcome you in with open arms after you and paige had begun dating, so you really felt most at ease with them, even if they could be complete idiots.

not like paige was any better.

it had started with someone making a tiktok, going around asking who they’d never let their son or daughter date— resoundingly, enough people said paige, which was both parts hilarious for you, and astounding for paige.

“bro! literally i’m like, the best girlfriend, that’s some bull.” she couldn’t help but scoff, even if she’s smiling just a little, “baby, i’m a good girlfriend, right?”

you purposely take a minute to answer, pretending to think about it until she grasps your thigh beneath the table, making you snicker as she squeezes, and suddenly, you know exactly the angle she’s playing.

“girl, i don’t trust you,“ KK snorts, making a face, “you’d probably get my kid pregnant or somethin’, like—“

KK’s words make paige snort, shrugging a bit, “shoot, i mean, no wonder they call me baby daddy.” she sticks her tongue out, entirely too immature for the setting of the restaurant, but it makes you warm all over anyway— you love her, even when she’s being childish, which is pretty much most of the time.

the conversation continues after that, and though you pay attention, laugh when it’s funny and answer when you need to, you can’t quite get that out of your head— baby daddy.

it makes you think.

it’s late by the time you guys get home, and true to paige’s fashion, the door is only shut and locked for a second before she’s behind you, pressing kisses to your neck and sliding hands up your shirt, humming quietly— “i’m a good girlfriend, yeah?”

it’s not often that paige asks for reassurance, mostly because she usually already knows, but it’s why it makes it extra special when she does.

“duh.” you whisper out, tilting your head back to grant her more access while she sneaks a hand into your jeans, forgoing the button entirely. her fingers are prodding against your clit when you let out a soft moan, your fluttering eyes only opening for half a second before they spot the black sack from across the room, your own hand gently grasping her wrist to still its movements.

“baby, why don’t we…?” your tilt your head in the direction, leaning your head sideways to try and capture her reaction.

surprisingly, she looks just as interested.

it’s comes out quietly, pressed to your temple, “get on the bed then.”

you don’t waste much time, stepping out of your jeans and your top until there’s nothing left but the black, simple thong that rests against your hips, crawling back against her purple sheets with an inquisitive look on your face while she pulled the thing from its plastic package.

“remember what you said earlier?” you say offhandedly as you watch paige’s muscles flex and tighten, looping the belt around her before she glances up at you, “which part?”

“baby daddy,” you can’t help but grin, tossing your head back against the bed, “just wanted to see how true that is.”

paige scoffs, and it’s obvious she likes that, plays into it even as she crawls onto the bed, looking down at you with a narrowed glance, “how true what is? that i could get you pregnant?”

it’s almost immediate the way your body flushes at that, the subconscious squeeze of your thighs together as you look up at her through lidded eyes, “mhm. is that bad?”

“i mean,” she’s smirking though, and her hand wraps around the strap on slowly, as if simulating it to be an extension of herself— it’s really fucking hot, “it’s sexy that you even thought about it like that,” she whispers, and you can practically see the confidence rising within her at the prospect, before her eyes flicker up at you. “wanna suck me off, ma?”

it makes something within you go haywire, and your mouth practically fills with saliva as if to prepare for it before you nod slowly, propping yourself up on your elbows before you stick your tongue out, paige’s blue orbs never leaving you for one second, before she’s sighing, hard under her breath, “fuuuck.”

she gets up on her knees, running her hands through your hair to gently guide your mouth down to the tip, her teeth teasing the bottom of her lip as you slowly slid the length into your mouth. it felt foreign, heavy on the tongue, but the texture was so lifelike, it almost felt like it was attached to paige.

“shit, baby,” she sounds out of breath as she thumbs your hair from your eyes, wanting to catch every dirty look you send up to her, mouth full and eyes watering, “god, you’re such… a slut.”

it must’ve been the strap or something, that had the endless string of dirty talk spilling from paige’s mouth, not entirely too uncommon and yet it had shifted the atmosphere completely. it felt lavacious, provocative, tantalizing even.

still, it makes the arousal pool between your legs, making you practically squeeze your thighs together again and again, chasing the feeling of some type of friction as paige pushed her hips up slightly, the tip only then touching the back of your throat and eliciting the first drop of a tear from your eye.

she notices, because she doesn’t miss a thing, and is slow as she pulls it from your mouth, eyes lingering on the string of saliva that connected your bottom lip from the tip of the strap.

she’s breathing heavy, blonde strands falling into her face, loose from the usual braid she kept her front pieces in as she grasps your jaw, “does that hurt?”

it doesn’t, but it makes you smirk that she even asks, shaking your head before you lean back now, head hitting the mattress as you open your thighs, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“you can make it hurt,” you suggest, and paige lets out a slow exhale, a teasing grin on her smile as she grasps it by the hilt, “you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know that?” the words are hissed down at you, spoken between her lips, chapped from how hard she’d been breathing as she rubs the tip of the now warmed, messily lubricated length against your cunt, eyes narrowed and focused as she drags it up, then down.

“you’re so wet,” it sighs out of paige as if she doesn’t even realize that she’d said it, a whine puffing past your lips involuntarily, ready to spit some type of urgency towards her, until she pushes in, finally, and you fucking gasp.

it was unlike what you’d really ever felt before— especially having never been with men or experimenting with penetration on this degree. it’s thicker than you expect, thicker than paige’s fingers combined, and your back arches upwards off the bed, right as paige grasps your hip to keep you right in place. “shh, shh— fuck, you’re so good, baby.”

“ohhh- oh fuck, paige—“ the words come out in a mess of noises, as you fling an arm over your face to try and focus on the comforting rub of paige’s thumb, the smell of her cologne, instead of the stretching, hot pressure that’s collected between your legs.

it only takes a couple moments before it doesn’t completely hurt, but the second that it does, you can finally blink your watery eyes open, letting out a soft moan at the furrowed eyebrows on paige’s face, her own lips parted as she carefully gives a shallow thrust into you, the subsequent friction of the dull, now audible buzzing of the vibrator on the other end of the dildo against her clit and it’s obvious.

it’s in the way she grunts, tongue darting out to seek attention to her bottom lip. “s’that feel good?” she’s panting already, and it makes your stomach swirl in arousal, nodding quickly as she gives another slow, but shallow thrust that sends immediate shivers up your spine, a rush of rampant pleasure up your stomach as you let out a groan, “more?”

it doesn’t take long for paige to find a rhythm— surprising considering her dancing abilities— and once she does, you can practically sense the confidence that radiates off of her. it’s in the way she wraps an arm around your thigh to hoist your leg up, higher, higher, until your cunt is on full display, and she’s leaning atop you, pressing wet kisses to your breasts as she drags her hips into you, each push making you both shudder out a moan.

“shit, baby— so fucking— so fucking wet. wan’me to fuck a baby into you, huh?” paige always has a habit of going on these fuck-drunk tangents, ones that usually send you careening over the edge in due time, but this— it makes you mewl into her ear, the thick, heavy weight of the strap punching into you, deeper than you or paige could ever reach, and it makes your hips jerk upwards, wanting more of it, all of it.

for half a second, you hoped, by some weird anatomical technique, she could get you pregnant.

“ohhh— fuck! paige, paige— pleasepleaseplease—“ what you’re begging for, even you can’t decipher, but it’s really just to make sure that she rocks into you like that again.

and she does— again and again, drool collecting in the corner of your mouth from how long your lips have been parted, and paige looks at you, delirious and flushed as she drags her thumb over your mouth, wipes away the spit and reaches between you two.

before you can figure it out, you feel her finger tracing the outside of your stretched cunt, the wetness that’s collected there as she lets out a wanton sigh, something more high pitched than what paige usually grunts out, “stretching you s’good, baby— fucking- take it, jus’ like that— fuck, wanna fuck you stupid, baby.”

it’s almost too much. your head presses hard against the comforter as paige’s hips push flush against your own, the final stab of the length being inside of you makes your head swim, your body acting upon it’s own accord as your thighs, shaking, squeeze around paige’s hips, your stomach flexing and jumping as paige gives up whatever bit of composure or control she has left, before she’s quick to fuck into you without a single strand of resistance.

it’s hot, heady, and the sweat that collects on the surface of your skin is almost like a sense of accomplishment as her face falls into your neck, your thighs pushed impossibly high to give her the best angle, as she ruts into you. the slight curve of the dildo somehow gives a direct angle to your g-spot, and it punches a shout out of you, one that’s followed with a crying whine that even you knew was bound to get you both caught.

“fffuck— shhh- shut the fuck up—“ her mouth is on your neck in an instant, other hand quick to clamp over your mouth, but the friction against paige’s clit has her bottom lip quivering, struggling to close as each of her gravelly, breathy moans launch right into your ear, and it’s clear that she’s being greedy, grinding the strap into your cunt for the effort of chasing her own high, and it’s fucking sexy.

this deep, you can almost feel the fucking vibrator, and it reduces you into nothing— fingers twine into paige’s hair, sweaty and sticky, as she fucks into you with reckless abandon, the bed frame squeaking in protest, your cunt wet enough that you can fucking hear it, can feel it drip onto the bed below, feel it coating the sheets and paige’s thighs and you think she’s about to orgasm with how quick her breath has gotten, how shaky her hips are with each incessant thrust, like an earthquake pulsing through your body and it makes you sob, because it feels so fucking good, and paige is so deep, you can feel her everywhere.

“wanna cum inside of’you— ohmyfuck- please, wanna fuck my babies into you— iloveyou, so, fucking- so fu-ucking sexy, baby, fuck.”

it’s all gibberish really, a promise that makes you turn into a pile of mush, because you can feel your cunt tighten around it— delusionally, you imagine paige can feel it too— because even her declaration of love is enough to send you flying over the edge as your legs tighten around her hips, the vibrator nestled deep against paige’s clit until she’s coming too, and it’s a glorious thing to hear— ripping from her throat in a cacophony of throaty groans and whines that mimic yours, only deeper, grittier.

she thrusts into you, sloppy and out of control until you can feel her release on your cunt, spread against your thighs, the dull vibration now pressing hot and wet against you, so much so that it makes your body flood in aftershock, pleasure wracking through you in earnest as your body twitches and jumps, every embarrassingly high pitched noise ripping from your throat, as paige’s go muddled and unintelligible against your neck.

it’s like a cathartic release of sorts, leaving you feeling boneless and jellied in the wake as you slowly return to your senses, fucked out and exhausted as you try to experimentally move your hips, but the soreness between your legs is almost unfathomable.

“shit—“ you hiss as paige finally lifts her head, her own hand slow to guide the strap from your abused cunt, and it’s clear by, not only the tired, almost loopy smirk on her face, but the redness in her eyes, the wetness coating her lashes, that she’d enjoyed herself as much as you had— and while sex between you had always been mutual, it wasn’t often you got to see her fully release like that.

“was that good, hm? did i do okay?” she’s always quick to look for approval, her hand coming up to brush the tears from your face, to pepper a light array of kisses against your lips, chapped and puffy, as you let out a tired laugh, “fucking duh, that shit was… so hot,” you trace her blonde strands, plastered to her forehead, away from her face, “don’t think i’ve ever heard you sound like that.”

it makes her cheeks red, eyes rolling with a scoff, as she lets out a quiet laugh, already trying to play it off as cocky instead of flushed, “well- yeah, ‘cause, i was watching you take my dick.” you slap her arm weakly with a snort, wincing at her usage of words, “ew, you’re so gross.”

“and you’re so pretty,” she counters, before pressing a quick kiss to your mouth.

you both don’t really try to address the fact that there was probably no way you’d both been quiet enough to not at least alert one of the girls, but you ignore it anyway.

besides, it’s only KK that ends up putting you both in a group message the next morning, sending a string of angry emojis and a text that says, ‘bye. im moving rooms’.

you both laugh, because you know she’s not, and more so, you all three know it wasn’t the first time and definitely not the last.

[if-whats-new]

Passings and Hiatus

Hi everyone!

Bex here. We have a very very sad message from the rest of the group which needed to shared.

Hi Everyone, This was not an easy post to write, but something that still should be communicated.

During the night of Sunday to Monday, Marjorie suffered an aneurysm. Unfortunately, she passed away before anything could be done.

Marjorie had been sick for a very long time, but her state deteriorated this year, and worsened during this summer. She had felt for a while she would probably not see many more milestones or even get to the end of the year, but she did her best to stay with us for as long as she could.

Marjorie strived to fill her days with happy moments and do things that made her happy, especially at the end. She wanted others to feel loved, appreciated, and seen, with her actions. In recent years, Interactive Fiction brought her a lot of joy (and sadness, and anger, etc...), and through it, she could connect with others - others who didn't see her in pain or sickly. IF had become her safe heaven when things were rough.

What's New in IF? would not have existed without Marjorie. Truly. She was the one who came up with the idea. She wanted to do something special, she told us, to bring some positive into the world, however she could. Marjorie was the one who hyped us up, and brought us on board. It was an electric time, and we stayed up deep into the night messing around to make... something with the idea. It wasn't well thought out, and we didn't realize what we were getting into, but she'd never been this excited about something in recent time.

So, she became the captain who steered this little ship of friends, connected through our appreciation of and love for the medium. But she wasn't just the idea person, she was down in the trenches, organizing it all, spearheading us on the right path, turned words into actions. When we needed some time, she would take over without a second's notice. She was always there, no matter what, at the ready.

She hoped, by her little idea and couple of hours of afflicting efforts, she was doing at least a little good for the community. She worried, often, that she wasn't doing enough, or doing it well enough, to give back the last of herself to the community who made those past years enjoyable for her. But not once did she want to pull that string publicly: she never wanted to take attention away from those who worked hard on their craft (her words). It mattered so much to her.

Through her and thanks to her, we learned so much. About ourselves and each other. And we shared with each other our appreciation for others, what we were passionate about, what we hoped for ourselves. She made us such better people, and we could never thank her enough for it.

Marjorie was first and foremost a loving daughter, a kind and attentive friend, and a passionate woman. Even with her failing health, she advocated for all who needed even a tiny bit support. She was a wonderful and compassionate soul, who always tried to see the best in people, but was never afraid to confront those who needed to face their mistakes. She forgave easily and loved even more.

Marjorie, you left behind a very quiet and empty space, and already are and always will be sorely missed.

- Noi, Axelle, and the rest of FMoDF Gang (Erika, Joss, Olive, Derek, Chaz)

As I'm sure you can all understand that this was a surprise for us and everyone who was close to Mrajorie, I think we can all say she was an amazing woman who invited me (Bex), Brij and Dion to help and create this wonderful Zine. We do wish to continue this on but we will be pausing this until at least the end of September until we can get our bearings and talk about future plans.

Let me assure you, this tumblr will stay and be available to keep a trace of her, the memories and support she gave everyone in the IF community.

If anyone is willing to help keep this zine and Marjorie's hard work alive please contact us here, COG, or in the comments

Until then RIP Marjorie, you were a shining star gone too soon.

[mazikeenhyde]

Less than a minute...

(Ive decided to be brave, I always wanted to try my hand at writing fan fiction so here we go! If i got anything wrong, like warnings for example please let me know so i can fix it! )

WARNING – 

A Poly!Judgment-Day fanfiction containing themes and mentions of DEPRESSION, LONLINESS, SOME SMUT, ANGST, SADNESS, ALCOHOL etc 

Overall, I’m just trying to make you all cry… 

READER X JUDGMENT DAY/POLY! – Rhea, Damien, Finn, Dominik x READER- Written in first person with Y/N (Reader Female)  

Italic font – flashback, speech or memories

Less than a minute 

The hotel room was quiet, the cheap TV fixed to the wall showing Monday night Raw on a low volume mixed in with the sounds of footsteps in the corridor, each sound filling the hot humid air. Outside the rain lashed down, heavy rainclouds hung low in the night sky blocking out the starlight, yet the full moon powered through, illuminating the streets, reflecting in the puddles that ran along the gutter line. 

 It was late, most of these anonymous guests rushing around just outside our door would be returning from busy work days to catch up on sleep or be heading out for a fun night on the town.  A blissful life for most, a chance to escape their homes and stay in a bed with room service, maids to clean up after you and a reception for any assistance required! I hated it though; it wasn’t my choice but when you are on the road traveling for what felt like 300 days of the year with your partners there isn’t much of an option. A different country every month, a different state every week, Christ a different town every night. I longed for those one-off days where we were all free to do nothing. Something many people take for granted is the ability to do nothing, and I missed it. 

Life felt far too chaotic, and despite being in a 5-way Polyamory relationship, I’d never felt so alone. I longed to go home, back to our own little house, we had been away for so long now. I could picture it, the front room shelves filled up high with my collection of books. My own little library I had spent a lifetime building now just collecting dust. The cabinets filled with Dominik’s board games that had bought about so many nights of endless laughter and equally some rather extreme arguments over winners, losers, cheaters and a half empty liquor cabinet that had been drained dry after a game of Scrabble. I still laugh now thinking back to when Rhea would demand the Alexa to define a word, we were sure Dominik had made up. Still, you could always rely on Finn to settle the score with a round of tequila shots and an accidental knock of the board. 

“Oh no!” Finn would laugh as he ‘accidently’ kicked the board off and onto the floor. 

“The board fell… guess we will have to play something else aye lass” he stated sarcastically, winking at me as he passed over one of the shot glasses. 

“I wouldn’t say No to a game of Twister” Damien suggested, raising his eyebrows as he took his shot and ran his fingers down my back. I swear that man would give me goosebumps from the top of my head to the center of my core with just a passing look and that fiendish glint in his eye! 

Rhea was quick to move herself over towards us resting her head in my lap, turning her view point to a more favored position. “I’ll second that” she smiled gently kissing the inner of my thigh, my breath was hitched, excited and on edge all at once. 

“Well I’m calling it!  I won..” Dominik stated with a huff as he began to pick the letter tiles up off the floor. Smirking over at him we each adorned a loveable gleam towards the boy. A little brat at the best and worst of times, but we wouldn’t have changed him for the world. 

Moving Rheas head onto Damien’s lap where the two of them began their own little make out session I crawled my way round to Dom, helping collect the remaining tiles off the floor and boxing his board game up. 

Smiling into his eye line I whispered ‘Never change who you are Dom Dom, We will always be here and we will always love you”

“What about when they break us up though?” he asked, I could hear the anxiety in his voice, his eyes. “I have to turn on Rhea and…and..” 

I held him close, his hands holding tightly to my back and I could hear his gentle muffled cries. 

“You’ll never be alone Dom, I love you so much. Even if I’m not always there to hold your hand, ill never be far away” I whispered in his ear. 

“Less than a minuite?” he smiled. 

-----

I couldn’t deny how much love I felt for each of them, work life had been tough for the four of them after the WWE had stated they would be splitting the group up to start a new storyline involving the likes of Liv Morgan, JD & Carlito. It didn’t stop the love we had for each other, but it certainly made traveling together difficult! I often reminded them that unlike myself none of them exactly blended into a crowd. 

Sitting in the middle of this king size bed I pulled my knees up to my chest, I had stolen Damien’s hoodie and a pair of rhea’s gym shorts in the hopes of being comfortable enough to focus while I studied my textbooks, but alas tonight my mind was elsewhere. I had been studying Law for some time, it had always been such a passion of mine and thankfully no matter where we slept I could bring my books and get my head down while my partners entertained the world. It also came in quite handy when certain members of the group had one too many drinks on a night out and needed some help in escaping the police without legal prosecution. Dominik can tell the world he did hard time in jail all he likes, but it was me that got the little brat released early after a dramatic night with Rhea at his parents’ house on thanksgiving. 

The WWE had offered me a position on their legal team once I had passed all my exams, yet that was over a year ago. I had deferred my exam date twice already, I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me but I didn’t feel the love, the passion or the joy I had done surrounding myself in plans for my future dream career, I was starting to worry I had wasted all these years for nothing.

Finn was always the voice of reason; he would often sit and help me revise while Rhea and Dom would shower together after the gym and Damien would take a nap. He was the voice of reason in the group, the glue that held us all together when things got tough. It was Finn that supported us all the most when our relationship went public, none of us had wanted to hide how we felt and the WWE were supportive, but that didn’t stop the online hate. The four of them were use to random strangers throwing insults due to the nature of their job, and thankfully I wasn’t of much interest to the fans. We had done our best to keep me away from the public eye, almost everyone just assumed I was part of the WWE teams supporting the group. There were a few fan speculation pages online who loved to play the guessing game but the majority saw me as nothing, as no one. 

Finn always knew when something was wrong, he hadn’t wanted to leave me this evening but I had persuaded them all to go on the promise when they returned we could order in and cuddle up to watch a new release on tv if we connected Damien’s laptop. 

“Chicken tenders! Ooh and nuggies?” Dom said, looking around the room in minor disbelief as we all looked at him with smiles. “What?” he asked. 

“Really Dom? Chicken tenders, I’d never have guessed that bro. There’s me thinking you’d want Sushi!” Damien stated sarcastically with a smirk as he zipped up his duffel bag. 

“Ew, raw fish? Bleugh! That’s gross!” Dom was genuinely disgusted at the idea. 

“Hey! Don’t knock Sushi you little squinnie! Just because the rest of us have some foodie culture, your mother should have had you expand your pallet better!” I replied as I walked over and flicked Dom on the head. He was quick to wrestle me up and onto his shoulder, spinning me round onto the bed where he climbed on to pin me down. 

“Uh Excuse me! I think you’ll find…Mami! has expanded my pallet just fine hermosa!” He stated, daring his lips closer to mine. 

“Oh I bet..” I whispered to him closing the gap between us, our lips aching to touch. “Your pallet has had its fair share of tasting sessions aye Dom Dom” 

Before he could respond Damien wrapped his arms around Dominik’s waste pulling him off me and planting him back down to earth, ruffling his hair upon release. 

“Alright you two, break it off!” Damien patted Dom on the chest as he tossed over his rucksack from the chair. I bought my chest up leaning back on my hands winking at Dom as he scowled at me with a mix of frustration and cheek. 

Rhea walked out from the bathroom with Finn following in tow, slapping Dom on the ass and wrapping her arm around his neck. 

“Behave yourself Dom Dom” Rhea said before looking over at me on the bed, “You too Bunny, Brats be warned there will always be consequences.” She laughed and pulled Dom towards the hotel door blowing me a kiss as the two of them headed out to work. Damien followed suit leaning down on the bed to kiss my forehead. 

“Te amo, Hermosa” he held the back of my neck touching foreheads before following Rhea and Dom. 

“Ill catch up with you three downstairs” Finn said and Damien gave him a thumbs up as he headed out the hotel room door and closed it behind them. 

Finn took a seat next to me on the bed as I sat up properly and moved to the edge, adorning one of those fake convincing smiles that had worked so many times before. 

“A night of studying then? We won’t be back too late I promise, you can pick the film tonight. I dread another of Rheas slasher films aye. We will be up all night watching the door” Finn said with a gentle nudge to my shoulder. I just nodded, unsure of how to respond. It was strange, I could hide myself in the love and laughter I felt for them all, the never ending flirting and sexual frustration that would build when we were in a room. But a reminder of the real world, of the real life we were living was enough to shatter my dreams back to reality. Every day was blending into one, the repetitive endeavors were tearing my soul apart. Tears began to fill the corners of my eyes as I was quick to stand and rub them away taking a sharp breath. I knew inside I was breaking, I was like a ticking time bomb and I needed to protect them all. Finn leapt up to his feet spin me around and face him.

“Y/N, listen to me lass, you know we all love you. No matter what, no matter how hard it all gets, whether you sit the exams and pass or fail.” Finn held his hands to my face cupping my cheeks. 

Finn had suspected something was wrong for a while, he and Rhea had sat down with me before to talk. They knew about my past, the scars I had whilst silver and faded now were a window into a past life I had battled for so long to break free from, always terrified it would find me again. I was like a rabbit in headlights when it all got to much, I would freeze in fear of my mind running away with my sanity. Hence the nickname Bunny. 

“I don’t know what is wrong with me..” My voice was fragile, broken. 

Finn held me in a close hug, his warm embrace relighting the fire inside my chest, a willing to keep going forward. The serenity was quickly broken by a car horn beeping outside followed by a text alert on Finns phone. 

BRAT NO.2  -

“Oi! Save some of her for the rest of us Finn >_< get your ass down here! We’re gonna be late!”  

Finn shook his head, “That boy tests my patience to its limit at the best of times, ive a good mind to put him over my knee’ 

I laughed wiping my eyes with my sleeves “Only if you let me watch” 

He smiled and held me close, “I can stay, if that’s what you need?” 

I shook my head and released him from the hug, “No. its okay, you go kick ass! I’m gonna jump in the shower and try to get in a quick nap before I crack on with those books, can’t defer the exam forever!” 

“We will be back before you know it” Finn said softly 

“Less than a minute?” I half smiled

“Less than a minute” He returned the all too familiar phrase. Finn kissed my forehead before getting his bag of the chair and reaching into his pocket to get his phone that had started to ring. He answered the call whilst slumping his bag over his shoulder and nodding his head goodbye to me before heading out the door. 

“Dominik, I am telling you now! I swear to god if you don’t…” Finns voice faded out as he continued down the hotel hallway, the door closing behind him. 

Taking a deep breath I shook off the heavy emotional cloak weighing me down and headed for the shower. 

4 HOURS LATER   - 

Looking around the rather large hotel room we had booked for the night I came to wonder; anyone would have thought we would have been used to this horrendous decor by now. No matter where we stayed every room felt much the same, whether it was the dismal wall art, low pressure shower heads or dull painted walls that felt like they were closing in. Though I knew the others were not fazed by it, they very rarely spent a lot of time in these rooms, aside from catching up on missed sleep or dancing the devils tango with any sparing energy the four of them would be in the gym or at the WWE training centers for live shows or TV. 

Sitting here I couldn’t steady my mind, I felt lost, lonely, empty even. It wasn’t their fault, they showered me in affection, I could want for nothing but more time with them. Yet it wasn’t that either, no amount of time in the arms of Rhea could fix the damage, she was the only woman I could love with the entirety of my heart, but as incredible as she was, even Rhea Bloody Ripley couldn’t fight off the demons inside me. 

The deeper I looked the more the world felt wrong. It all felt alien, uneasy, I wondered if it was just me, was I the problem? I checked the time, just after 10pm, they would be back soon enough, why did that bring about such panic, an anxiety drowning my heart, my breathe hitched and I felt it. You just know don’t you, it could have been years, weeks, days, hours or minutes that you had been fighting the voices in your head, the devil on your shoulder, but I was so lost in it all I just wanted to be alone. 

Slipping  off the bed I pulled on my socks and trainers and headed for the door. Pausing in the doorway I felt my heart sink a little, maybe this was it, maybe I wasn’t what I had promised I would be. 

A single tear fell down my cheek as I closed the hotel room door behind me, leaving my phone and keys on the nightstand. I needed to break free, only time would tell how long for, but I needed to feel. I needed to escape the War inside my head and the only way I knew how to do that, was to run. 

1 HOUR LATER   - 

Rhea and Dom walked through the carpark with his arm wrapped around her waist as they headed towards the rental car. It had been a hard night for them and all they wanted was to climb into bed with their girl and sleep. Damien followed just behind the both of them carrying the groups bags. Finn bringing up the rear of the group was locked into his phone, his face filled with concern for their girl who hadn’t responded to a single text all evening. They had received a message from the WWE management team that they could leave early to limit fan interaction ahead of SummerSlam. 

Climbing into the rental car Dom, Rhea and Damien waited for Finn. 

“Maybe she fell asleep studying?” Dom asked as Finn sat in the back passenger seat. 

Rhea had her phone up to her ear listening to a never ending ringing on the other end, Voicemail again. “Bunny? please call me back.” She ended the call and looked up to Damien in the drives seat. 

“Priest, Floor it!” 

--------

Reaching the hotel all four of them raced from the car inside, adrenaline fed through them as they reached the hotel room. 

Hands shaking Rhea swiped the card multiple times before holding it still long enough to enter. The realization. The Silence. It was deafening.

Damien rushed in to check the bathroom as Finn scrambled around the room with Dom, looking for something, for someone they knew wasn’t there. Rhea stood frozen in the doorway, in silence, her eyes locked in. 

“Rhea?” Dom hastily rushed over, hand on her shoulder as he turned to her eye line. There it was, on the bedside table. 

Finn edged his way over to the bedside as Damien came back into the room. Hands shaking nervously Finn reached down and picked up Y/N phone and hotel keycard. 

They all shared a look between each other, a look of fear and confusion. What were they meant to do now? Where did Y/N go? 

“I shouldn’t of left her…” Finn held the phone tightly pacing the same two steps over. “I could see it, I saw it, I shouldn’t of left her…” Finn repeated again. 

“Finn?” Dom hesitantly questioned his actions. 

Rheas demeanor quickly turned and she slammed her hand against the doorframe and rushed out followed by Finn and Damien desperate to find their girl. 

“Dom stay here! In case she comes back!” Damien yelled, he paused in the hall before rushing back to the room and holding Dominick’s face in his hands. “We will find her, I promise, we will all be back before you know it” Damien kissed his forehead before turning and running back out the door. 

Dom was frozen on the spot, he couldn’t move, he looked around the room at abandoned study books, half unpacked suitcases and clothing discarded on the floor. He felt smaller than ever before, his heartbeat felt cold, his chest filled with butterflies and his hands cold to touch. 

Walking over to the window that stood from floor to ceiling he held his hand to his chest tearing up at the rain lashing down outside . “Less than a minute?” 

[ameliablakesblog]

Let the Consequences Be Damned- Lando Norris

Happy Day 1 of Smutmas!!!!

Lando Norris x Fem! Reader Words: 2.3k Warnings: Swearing, SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), Masturbation (Male & Female), Semi-Public sex (if you squint) Summary: He shouldn't want her, she was his PR Manager, if anything happened there would be consequences. But what happens when she finds him in a compromising position? A.N: Here's day One! Hope you like it :) Make sure to follow along for the rest of the 12 Days of Smutmas!!

Lando couldn’t stop thinking about her.

His PR manager. The woman sent from the devil himself to make his life a misery.

Y/N was stunning. From the way she smiled to the way the room would literally light up the moment she stepped in. Lando was hooked.

And he couldn’t do anything about it.

Here he was, sat in the meeting room supposedly listening to the media planning for the upcoming month. Yet his eyes would naturally draw to her opposite him. She’d gone for her own clothing today rather than the papaya uniform, but to be honest even if she wore nothing but a cotton rag, she’d still be the most stunning woman on the planet in his eyes.

Today she had obviously decided to ruin Lando’s mind. Wearing a grey mini dress with some black heels, she looked like sex on legs. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He cursed McLaren for having glass tables as he was able to notice everything. He noticed the way she’d run her palms down her thighs when she was speaking, or the times her thighs would clench together as she repositioned herself into a more comfortable position. 

Every time she moved, her dress would ride up a little higher on her thigh and Lando had to restrain himself from leaning forward to get a peek. He wondered what underwear she was wearing. Was it a thong? Was she even wearing one?

God, he shouldn’t be thinking about this.

He was at work for Christ sake. And now he was hard as a rock. 

He shuffled in the chair to try and conceal his hard-on before dragging his eyes away from her to the meeting board. On the screen was statistics or something, numbers were never Lando’s strong suit. He let his mind wander, trying to think of subjects not related to his PR manager who was now biting a pen.

Fuck.

It wasn’t supposed to be seductive, but how come everything she did turned him on?

He decided to think about Twitch. Maybe he could stream tonight? But what game?

Suddenly, a thought of Y/N on her knees underneath his desk came to mind. He let his mind wander to the thought of her sucking him off while he played his games. He could practically see it. Her messing with her tits while she took him in her mouth all the way. The noises she’d make when she’d tug on her nipples and the way she’d let him cum on her tongue.

The noise he let out sounded agonising.

The room went quiet.

Fuck. Did he really moan out loud?

He looked up to all eyes on him, including Y/N’s. She stared at him; eyes wide- almost knowing?

He looked away and to the others in the meeting. He needed to leave. If he stayed in this room much longer, with the thoughts he’s having, he’d probably end up making a twat out of himself.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to-to leave, I’m not feeling good” He stood up abruptly and started to make his leave, it was an obvious lie, but he didn’t care. He needed to go jerk himself off- it was the only solution so he can get on with the rest of his evening. 

He started wandering the corridors, searching for a quiet place. It was fairly late at the MTC, so it was mostly quiet, which Lando appreciated. He couldn’t think of anything worse right now than talking to people, when whenever he closed his eyes, he could just keep seeing the image of Y/N sucking him off.

He stopped his walking and groaned. He’d thought about it again. His hard-on was throbbing underneath his jeans, and he had to give it a discreet squeeze to ease the pain. 

He couldn’t wait much longer, to his right was a seminar room which after knocking- he found empty. He shut the door and quickly made work of his trousers and boxers. His erection slapped his abdomen and he hissed at the feeling. He let his mind wander carelessly this time as his hand stroked his cock. He gave himself a harsh tug and whimpered at the thought of Y/N bent over the desk. Him fucking her over the desk and the noises she’d make. Would she moan loud?

He continued to fuck his hand faster, imagining it was her hand instead of him. His breathing erratic and head thrown back against the chair. He was in his own world, groaning at the filthy thoughts of his PR manager.

Unbeknown to him, Y/N had shortly left after Lando. She was concerned about him. She knew he hated meetings, yet he always endured them for her. But today with the way he left so quickly had her worried. Plus, the moan? What was that about? Did statistics really turn him on?

So she followed him down the hallways, he seemed fine- although very rushed. When he stopped suddenly you halted, maybe he didn’t want to speak to her? Even though she was his PR manager; it didn’t mean he needed to tell her how he was feeling. When he quickly darted into the room next to him and slammed the door, she let the worries slide. Something was wrong, maybe she could help?

She moved to the door and went to knock when she heard another moan. That was definitely a moan, right? She started questioning the noises she had heard from the driver this evening. The noise she had just heard sounded pleasurable; but the one earlier sounded almost in pain?

When she heard Lando moan her name she jumped back from the door.

Was that her name? she could feel the area between her legs start to pulse at the thought of what Lando could be doing in there.

It should be wrong, having a crush on Lando. She made the decision when she got the job that she’d never risk her job.

But then she just heard him moan her name again.

Consequences be damned, she needed to know what he was doing. Maybe she had read the situation wrong, maybe something bad had happened, maybe Lando was calling her name because he was in pain. 

She opened the door a crack to allow herself to see in. She gasped at the sight of Lando; sweaty and flushed as he jerked his cock while moaning. She could feel herself becoming wet and for a moment contemplated walking away- this was a private moment; she shouldn’t be spying on this.

But then he whimpered and rolled his thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting his precum before using as lubrication to fuck up into his hand. All those previous thoughts left her mind as she entered the room, closing the door and locking it. Lando hadn’t seen her enter and she bit her lip at how submissible he was. 

Time to have some fun.

Lando was in a world of his own. All he could think about was Y/N. His mind racing through images of him fucking her. He whimpered at the idea of her moaning his name. His eyes opened lazily to watch himself fuck his hand. But when he saw Y/N stood opposite him he jumped back in surprise. His hand paused his movements as he stared at her. She wasn’t directly looking at him per say, she was focused on the grip he had on his cock. He whimpered from her gaze. From the way she was looking at him all he could see was lust and he jerked slightly into his hand at the possibilities of what could happen now. 

Y/N lifted her gaze to match his and she bit her lip. Her glossed lip rolled between her teeth and Lando was so caught up in watching them he almost missed Y/N bending down slightly. He watched the way her hands crept under her dress and up towards her centre, fascinated on the way she pulled down her pink thong to the floor. She stepped out of it before picking it up. Her lip stayed between her teeth as she looked at her thong before looking over towards him. Lando couldn’t breathe. He had started to stroke his cock again without realising but now he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to. He watched Y/N walk over to him before situating herself between his legs. She placed her hands on his things before bringing them up towards his shaft, scratching her nails up his legs on the way. He jerked at the feeling, eager to feel her hands on the place he craved. When she stopped to look at him, silently asking for his permission- he could’ve finished right then. 

She smiled innocently before licking a strip up his shaft. He moaned at the feeling. Anyone could’ve heard him with how loud he was being, but he didn’t care. Y/N had just wrapped her glossy lips around his tip and started to push down, hollowing her mouth to take him further in her mouth. He threw his head back, trying to control himself. All he wanted to do was take control and fuck her mouth senseless, but she had the upper hand- he was completely in her mercy. She continued to bob her head, letting her hand stroke the area she couldn’t fit. He heard her moan and looked down, jaw going slack at the sight in front of him. She was looking up at him while sucking on his tip, but her free hand was between her legs. She was fucking herself while giving him head. He bucked his hips up at the thought, causing her to gag slightly. He should’ve felt bad, but the noise sent him closer to the edge. 

He could hear the noise of her wetness between her legs, the muffled moans she was making around his cock and the noise of her finger fucking herself was pushing him closer to his orgasm. He lifted his head, looking down at Y/N. She was always stunning, but like this, with her eyes closed from the pleasure and the way she took his cock almost greedily. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. 

“I’m close” He grabbed her hair, making a make-shift ponytail and pulling slightly. She opened her eyes but didn’t pull away. In fact, pulling her hair seemed to challenge her more, as she sucked harder before pushing him further into her throat. He groaned loudly, bucking his hips up. He felt himself hit the back of his throat and he felt himself cum. 

God it was amazing, his head slammed back against the chair, and he could feel himself panting. Mouth open while she continued to lick him threw his orgasm. He felt her stand on wobbly legs, so he acted fast; pulling her down to sit on top of him. He looked up and she was smiling at him cheekily. He could feel her wetness on his thighs as he came down from his high, his hands moving to rub circles on her ass underneath the dress.

“Was that- Lando!” She had started to ask something, but he wasn’t going to answer. She hadn’t finished, he realised. He was quick to stand them both and push her against the table, ass bare and legs split so her could see all of her. She didn’t even try to stop him, pushing herself back so she could lie comfortably. He got down on his knees, but she didn’t allow him the time to marvel at her. She grabbed his hair and pulled him closer to where she wanted him. He laughed slightly before going in for the kill. He had dreamt of this for so long, he wasn’t going to waste the chance he’d got.

He licked a strip up her cunt before focusing on her swollen clit. God she was soaked. All for him too. He sucked hard, loving the way she moved to put both her legs over his shoulder, trapping her against him. He pushed a finger inside her, groaning at how tight she was. She felt perfect, and the noises she was making- his cock was already growing hard again. She squirmed against his fingers while he continued to dominate her clit, clenching in need for more stimulation. He pushed another finger in, eliciting a cry from her stunning lips. He pulled away to gauge her reaction and groaned at the sight. She was playing with her tits, like he’d dreamt of. She was arching her back while playing with her nipples.

Not wanting to keep her waiting he dove in again, he curled his fingers inside her, feeling her grind against his face. She was close, he could feel it in the way she was clenching around him, her wetness dripping down her thighs onto the carpeted floor. He’d never be able to have a meeting in this room again without getting turned on.

“Please Lando, please” She was begging. God he loved the sound, he moaned in reply and bit her clit. It sent her over the edge and she cummed hard. His name falling from her lips in chants as she writhed on the table. He cleaned her up the best he could before standing, dropping her legs from his shoulder. She hadn’t moved, eyes lazily watching him. She went to pull her dress up back over her boobs but stopped when Lando stood between her legs. His once again, hard cock stood proud as he pushed it over her sensitive pussy. She jumped at the feeling but didn’t complain so he looked up. He moved to bend over her so they were face to face, his cock nestled comfortably against her folds, like a silent dare. 

He could feel her fast breathing against his lips, her nipples grazing against his clothed chest. They stared at each other, no one making a move.

They both knew the consequences of their actions, but they didn’t want to deal with them right now. For now, they had each other, and Lando certainly wasn’t going to allow them to think about the consequences.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

options for if vaggie and alastor found out about each other's dancing skills

Alastor better at dancing than Vaggie and everyone can see it - Boring. - Changes and challenges nothing. - A crime against Alastor simps and Vaggie simps alike.

Vaggie and Alastor both better than each other at dancing their specific preferred dance styles but no one else can tell - Better. - Both get a chance to show off and get shown up. - Unwillingly bonding over being the only ones at the hotel who can fully see the other's skill and being a little nauseous over it.

They're equally matched in everything and both know it. - Getting juicy. - Dance off of increasing frustration. - Everyone can tell they're hating every minute of it and are only trying to beat the other but also no one can get them to stop until Charlie literally steals her gf away.

Vaggie is slightly better but only Alastor notices - Yessss. - Vaggie can tell he's getting even more high strung and dramatic than usual but they're literally just dancing so what the fuck. - Alastor casually announcing that was the most unpleasant dance of his life and one he will NEVER be repeating again while Charlie steps in for the next dance with Vaggie very confused bc her gf is a great dancer??? What?

Vaggie is clearly better than him and everyone sees it - ITS A M-M-MENTAL BREAKDOWN!!! - He refuses to accept this outcome and keeps asking (challenging) her to another dance. - Great B-plot gag potential, Vaggie's exasperated, Alastor's cheering himself up by annoying her about it, by the end of the night Vaggie stalks out of the ballroom firmly telling the radio demon No! You stay! STAY! Don't follow me! while he trails after waving her forged dance card with his name rewritten all over it.

Vaggie is WAY better than him, sees how much that unsettles him, and is SMUG about it - A quiet Alastor is a Alastor who's going through it. - Husk is not quiet, Husk is CHEERING. - "viscerally disgusted at the thought of anyone actually being his superior in anything" Alastor meets "always the follower who rarely gets shown any damn respect even by herself" Vaggie - Vaggie switching between using Alastor like an inanimate prop and uno reverse guiding him into steps he has to stumble through, smirking the whole time. - Alastor says nothing until the very end, where he bows politely and askes who or what VAGGIE uses dancing to try to forgetting about. - Charlie doesn't hear that part but does see her gf hurry outside right afterwards and goes worriedly after her, which Alastor watches before going to sit quietly at the bar and get drunk while a now terrified Husk pretends not to exist. - Heading upstairs later with an extra few bottles Alastor passes by a partly open door and catches a glimpse of chaggie slow dancing inside in the dark, with Vaggie's exorcist wings out. - he leaves them one of the liquor bottles before moving on - Up in his radio tower Alastor puts on a record labeled mother's favorites and has it on repeat for the rest of the night. - Vaggie handles complaints the next day from demons banging on the hotel door screaming about being driven half out of their minds by the looping broadcast that affected every audio device for several several city blocks around the hotel last night. - She tells them all it was a hard night for some people and to get fucking lost. - Vaggie dropping an empty bottle off at Alastor's door with some black coffee and a note reading "thanks for the hangover asshole" - he puts the note in the bottle and keeps it. probably in the mouth a decapitated deer head. - Alastor and Vaggie and the horrifying idea they might have more than a love of dancing and multiple murders in common. - Charlie changes their official hotel status on the official hotel enemies / frienimes / alliances chart board to "FRIENDS!!!" afterwards and they both physically cringe back at seeing it.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 78)

That night the apartment was quiet, Uzi laying on her back, staring at the ceiling. The inside of her core feeling like a pinball machine. She idly realized that tonight marked the beginning of month three, and the code within was beginning to become independent.

If the sudden increase in movement was anything to go by.

“Mmh!” She winced, holding her core breifly as her core flickered brightly for a moment, before the movement died back down, she sighed deeply, before turning her attention to the doorway.

N was in the kitchen, leaning up against the wall with Tera in his arms, watching her down a bottle of oil that she was holding up by herself, draining it into nothing. A far away look painted on his visor.

It would take time for Khan to organize an event for the entire bunker, where he would attempt to get everyone on board with Uzi's plan, until then, all they had to do was wait.

But waiting felt so much different when they both knew they were on a time limit, every minute ticking past was another minute towards oblivion, neither knew how long the time limit was, but they could both hear the ticking of their internal clocks, knew it was creeping closer.

N sighed, taking the now empty bottle from his daughter, who giggled at him as he sat it on the counter. He touched his own visor, as if trying to make sure he still existed.

“Papa?” Tera cooed, gripping one of his fingers tightly, smiling up at him. At this point in her life, he and Uzi were her entire world. Her day to day was the two of them and it showed. She chirped, and nuzzled her cheek into the palm of his hand.

He began to tear up, he couldn't help it. This tiny little life trusted him so completly. Trusted them to get her though everything no matter what. And he wasn't sure anymore if he could, the only thing any of them could do was wait and see.

“Papa…?” Her little voice spoke again, her head tilted to the side as she reached up to touch his face, making him smile as he fought the tears back.

“I'm ‘right, Papa’s just tired.” He hummed, his voice a near whisper, he knew Uzi was trying to sleep in the next room.

He also knew she was probably wide awake, but it was still rude.

“Mama tiwred too.” She replied, and he winced, one of her first full sentences and it was of her noticing the less then stellar moods of her parents.

“Yeah, she is.” He nodded slowly, taking a glance toward the closed doorway that housed his sleeping girlfriend.

Life partner.

The second voice in his system corrected, sounding like his own only deeper, more protective. They were his thoughts, but they also weren't, at first he didn't realize it, but now it was fairly obvious.

“I think we're all tired, we've had a long day.” He leaned forward and nuzzled his daughters cheek, making her laugh and do it right back. “I think it's bed time.”

“Noooo…” She whined, gripping onto her dad's face, holding on even after he lifted his head back up, leaving her feet to dangle as she held his visor.

“Awww, why not Jellybean, sleep makes you feel better to play in the morning.” He hummed, letting her stay on his face even if the words were muffled, she laughed a little, but then gripped tighter.

“Bad.” She nearly whispered, her eyes looking too scared for his liking. He used his tail to wrap around her and pull her off his visor, placing her back in his arms.

“Bad?” Bad what?” Tera looked up at him, as if she was trying to think of a way to explain it to him with her limited vocabulary.

“See Bad.” N blinked, wracking his processors on what that could possibly mean, it probably didn't mean she needed glasses, he knew what that looked like, and she wasn't squinting at everything like V had done before she got her glasses.

“You see bad things when you sleep?” He asked, and Tera nodded against him glumly.

Oh…

“Those are called nightmares, they aren't real baby.” He hummed, rubbing a calming circle into her back, she whimpered as if she didn't quite believe him.

“You wanna sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight?” He asked softly, feeling his daughter nod rapidly into his chest, making him chuckle.

“Alright…” He hummed, making his way to the bedroom where Uzi was facing the ceiling, a hand on her chest and the other locked at her side, very much not asleep.

He looked down at her, her eyelights shifting on her visor to better look at him, he smiled the best he could. “Having trouble sleeping?”

She sighed, nodding slowly as he sat Tera down on the bed, where she immediately curled up next to Uzi, chirping once before purring loudly. N followed suit, tucking in under the covers and almost immediately turning to face her.

He liked looking at her, he always had (especially now, when she kept wearing loose fitting shirts that hung off her shoulders or exposed her core around the house) but right now she looked exhausted, downtrodden, and stressed. She held her head in a way that suggested pain. The answer was obvious, but he asked it anyway; “You Good?”

With that, it was her turn to face him. She didn’t answer verbally, but her expression told it all, being only a degree short of tearing up. He reached out to pull both of them closer, burying Uzi’s head into his chest and sandwiching Tera in between them.

“Waiting feels like torture… we should be trying to find a way to escape.” She murmured, and yet she gripped his back like a lifeline, he stroked down her own. Something now ingrained in his muscle memory.

“We are. We can’t do anything if we don’t sleep.” He replied, his tail wrapping around her leg and a gentle purr coming from deep in his core. He could almost feel her body try to relax in response. But she was simply too wound up. She huffed.

“Are you talking to yourself or me?” She bit sarcastically, releasing a tense laugh from N’s throat.

“Yes.” He hummed in return, his hand coming up to splay flat against the glass covering of her core, which was now solidly pink, it pulsed with energy, and he could feel a little core-beat within, thrumming away.

“Girl or Boy?” He asked, partly trying to distract her and partly himself from the deep feeling of dread that had fallen over both of them. They didn’t have to address it, they both knew it was there.

“Huh?” Uzi put her own hand over his, lifting an eyebrow before scoffing. “N, is now really the time?”

“Humor me. Girl or Boy? I personally think we’ll have another girl, and she’ll have your beautiful purple hair, and that lovely Doorman attitude.” He smirked, and she rolled her eyes before smiling, shaking her head.

“I think it’s a boy. And he won’t look like me, he’ll look like you, golden eyes, fluffy hair-“

“-Aww, but you’re so much prettier then me.” He interrupted, the suddenness of it making her blush and pushing his hand off her gently and turning away, crossing her arms and causing him to chuckle.

“Bite me. No I’m not.” She grumbled, but easily accepted defeat with she felt N give her a small kiss on the head, and she flipped back around, searching his eyes for something.

“We’ll figure it out-“

“- Together. Yeah, I know.” She finished for him, sleep finally taking hold and causing a soft purr to escape her lips, he curled around her protectively, keeping both girls safe pressed against his chassis.

He wouldn’t sleep a wink. His processors screaming;

Protect. Protect. Protect.

Next ->

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — it all falls down

jang wonyoung and kim jiwon's dorm. 3:47 pm.

WARNINGS; blood, graphic depictions of physical violence, slut shaming, threats, trust issues, implied mental breakdown, effects of gaslighting, victim blaming (towards self) (4.8k)

from an early age, naoi rei knew that love wasn't for her.

she saw the decorative hearts scattered all over her elementary school as her peers fawned over their crushes. the chocolates that hid behind heart-shaped boxes taunted the young naoi as she listened to her friends' relationship woes.

everywhere she turned, love seemed to consume all those who stood in its vicinity. her parents would mindlessly hum their wedding song under their breath. her music teacher's desk littered with all her students' drawings, except for a portrait of her husband.

love consumed everyone's time. everyone's effort.

it didn't consume rei, not directly.

rei knew her parents loved her. they would go out of their way to go to her recitals and take her shopping when she needed new clothes. they even funded all of rei's (very expensive) expenses when it came to art.

they were perfect on paper, and if rei was any other person, it would've been enough.

on her fifth birthday, they had spent one out of the twenty-four hours of the day with her. the one hour consisted of eating together, and a small, thirty-minute gift session where rei had opened about ten gifts or so.

later, they would leave to stay at a hotel on their one day off. they would drop the five-year-old at her grandma's flower shop, named after rei's mother.

on christmas when she was seven years old, rei woke up in a quiet house. the silence was deafening, and all the young naoi could remember that day was the pile of presents she opened by herself.

the seven-year-old would find out later that her parents had left her home to grab a christmas breakfast.

the day she had left to go to korea, rei had been asked one question during the entire car ride before her parents had rushed off. she then boarded the plane, first class, watching as her two check-in luggages were being brought onto the airplane.

she'd never tell them, but she wanted them to miss their reservation, just this once. just so they could hug her goodbye.

somehow, rei had become a side character in her own life, watching as everyone paid no attention to her. she knew that if she were to get erased from her own family, they wouldn't even notice. it hurt her that they wouldn't have cared.

(rei's family hadn't checked up on her since she landed.)

rei was bitter when it came to love.

she hated how she couldn't appreciate her parents' efforts because of it, and how she always questioned if she was alive out of coincidence and not want.

still, rei couldn't help but become fascinated with it.

she wondered why so many people would throw logic aside for someone who had the power to break them. she couldn't comprehend how love was able to blindside so many people.

love was an emotion. one that made her fade away.

her mind was made as soon as she stepped onto korean soil. she wouldn't bother with anything that came with the emotion, not even if her neighbor was clearly in love with one of her friends.

they weren't her friends anyway. why should she care?

"you're the girl my mom was talking about. the one that lives in the apartment across from us." rei could remember seeing the tall girl glare from behind her neighbor, almost trying to shoo her away. "i'm not sure if you saw me around before. i just staying here for the summer."

her hair was so long back then.

"my name's kim gaeul."

"i'm naoi rei."

rei had friends before.

they were all boy-crazy, hiding makeup in their drawers instead of pencils to impress their crush of the month. like her parents, they had never asked about her interests or hobbies, but rei knew almost everything about them. she could read them like the back of her hand.

she knew it was gonna be the same.

(it wasn't.)

"you like hawaiian pizza, right?" jang wonyoung, whom gaeul had introduced a month ago (alongside ahn yujin), scrolled through her phone as the other two were off somewhere in the kim residence. "i ordered some, but just so you know, yujin-unnie's gonna make fun of you."

rei had mentioned it once, offhandedly a week or two ago. she didn't know how wonyoung cared enough to remember. yujin, on the other hand, would've been too busy with gaeul to care. sometimes, rei wondered if yujin even noticed her presence.

it wouldn't have been the first time someone had forgotten about her.

"what the hell?" yujin said as she dug through the boxes. the aroma of freshly baked pizza wafted the entire house. "rei ordered these, didn't she?"

"leave her alone, yujin."

yujin laughed at the younger girl with an arm wrapped around gaeul. her cheeks were bright red, teasing the japanese for liking something so obscure (in her mind, at least). rei watched the three koreans closely, wonyoung and gaeul trying to defend her from the onslaught of yujin's comments.

each comment was directed at her. each smug grin, each teasing look. yujin had remembered, and so had gaeul, and so had wonyoung.

they could see her. they wanted to see her, despite the love that they held for someone else.

love was an emotion, not a blindfold.

for once, naoi rei didn't mind being the side character, and she would do everything in her power to make them happy, to make her family happy. she knew that one day, when the time came, they wouldn't forget her.

rei hated it, being forgotten (yet somehow, she hated the thought of ripping two people apart).

rei didn't understand love, but she knew that she wished her friends would find it.

(but somehow, it also found her.)

"who's trying to break down the door?"

wonyoung looked at the shaking door, partially terrified that whoever (read: rei) would somehow knock it wide open with just her fist.

as much as she loved rei, wonyoung refused to let the japanese girl anywhere near or inside her dorm when jiwon was around. rei had yet to give the true happenings of what went down that night with jiwon, but she could tell it was bad.

finding the young kim crying in her bed was a weird role reverse at first, but wonyoung knew how it felt like. she knew how painful it was to love someone but not have them.

"it's no one."

the banging continued, somehow getting harsher and louder with every passing second.

if there was one thing that naoi rei was good at, it was persistence.

"maybe it's yuri-unnie." jiwon muttered, rubbing her now scabbed knuckles. "she did text me this morning asking if i was okay... i think she wanted me to help her jump minjeong-unnie."

jiwon had gotten a phone call earlier that morning. from what she could tell, the sun was just starting to rise, and from the way yuri's voice had sounded, the older girl had stayed up all night.

("we don't have to tell minju. i'm sure she wouldn't mind anyways.")

jiwon could only hope that yuri hadn't gone through with her ten-step plan.

"why would yuri-unnie want to jump minjeong-sunbaenim?"

the two stared at each other, blank faces as gears turned in their heads.

"i'm gonna open the door now." jiwon stated, moving towards the entrance. she needed any way out of the conversation, even if she ended up trying to talk someone out of a potential assault charge.

the door continued to rattle under rei's fist, and she prayed that whatever happened to jiwon was minor. she hoped that the girl she hurt wasn't in pain.

the door swung open, a sense of relief washing over the japanese girl as the kim stood in front of her.

love wasn't for rei.

she was the side character, the girl who set up her friends with their exes, the mastermind behind everything. she was the girl everyone ran to, and everyone forgot when the time came. she was a plot device.

"rei?"

naoi rei didn't want to be a plot device anymore. she wanted love to want her, just like she wanted her parents to love her.

the japanese girl looked at jiwon in front of her, the latter cradling her hand. her knuckles were a blush red, forming uneven marks around the peaks. rei could see the small scabs starting to form at the tips of her first two knuckles, and the swollen bump on the back of jiwon's hand.

it looked like it hurt, and somehow, in some way, it upset rei.

rei ushered the taller girl onto her bed, ignoring the questioning stares that came from the others. she'd deal with them later. jiwon was hurt, and that was rei's priority.

wonyoung stood at the doorway, eyeing the two.

"you'd think she's the one with the wrist brace and first aid kit," yujin snickered.

she wondered if rei knew what she was doing, what she was feeling. she should've by now. the glint in her eye was enough for anyone to know.

gaeul rolled her eyes at her girlfriend. "i think it's nice that she's worried."

she just hoped rei could deal with the heartbreak that came with it.

sighing, wonyoung gestured for the two older girls to come inside. she pushed aside a foreboding feeling in her chest, disregarding all the signs that something was wrong. it was just the thermostat, anyway. jiwon always liked to turn it up when she felt overwhelmed.

as the volleyball player began to shut the door, her eyes focused on the sliver of light that peaked into the hallway.

a gray sweater. y/n's gray sweater.

wonyoung swung the door open almost immediately.

"y/n."

with a small nod, y/n smiled.

something was wrong.

y/n's eyes were bloodshot red, the thin red veins popping against the whites of her eyes. her cheeks were red from crying, wonyoung deducted. if she looked any harder, wonyoung was sure to see the dried streaks of tears on the older girl's cheeks. it was a normal site of a sad y/n, at least from what wonyoung could remember.

but there was something in her eyes. something that unsettled wonyoung.

why did it seem so familiar?

"is jiwon okay?" y/n's voice cracked out, clearing her throat in embarrassment.

wonyoung nodded lightly, stepping aside for the actress to enter. with light, but sluggish steps, the taller girl watched y/n walk passed her. it was heavy with the burden of something.

wonyoung closed the door behind her. she watched the love of her life almost morph into someone that wasn't there before, a soft smile appearing on her face as she stared at jiwon.

it was her y/n (but who was the y/n before?).

"gaeul-sunbae," y/n spoke, her voice shaking slightly. she could feel jiwon's worried gaze. "can you check her hand?"

gaeul nodded, sitting beside jiwon.

y/n could feel the guilt wracking inside her body as she stared at jiwon's injured hand. every wince that the younger girl made seemed to cut her deeply, and all y/n could do was blame herself.

it was her fault for not seeing the signs, and her fault for not wanting to. all she wanted was a friend, but never at the cost of another.

"do you want to sit down?" wonyoung's voice sounded like a melody, pulling her out of her trance.

y/n stared at the taller girl. she couldn't help but wonder if the volleyball player had ever held some type of grudge against her, a vendetta to ruin her life. maybe it was something more simple, like a hatred fueled from putting her through everything that was yoo jimin.

y/n took a breath. her wonyoung wouldn't do that.

but then again, her minjeong did.

"it's okay."

y/n didn't know what was what anymore. for all she knew, she could've been letters on a screen, strung together from the most painful parts of human life.

all y/n knew was that jiwon, minju, yuri (and yena), and her parents were real. they had to be. they needed to be.

if they were, then she'd be okay. she knew she'd be okay.

wonyoung grabbed her hand gently, the pad of her thumb tugging her back to reality. back to wonyoung.

y/n was back to wonyoung, her wonyoung. the one with big, doe eyes that cried at the movie 'UP' and hid a box of random pieces of lego in her closet back when they were dating. her wonyoung who was hyunseo's older sister, who carried the jang name with a burden that only showed in the darkest of nights.

she wanted to be wonyoung's y/n again. not minjeong's, not jimin's. wonyoung's.

"please?"

y/n hoped that wonyoung was real. she hoped that this was all real.

quietly, y/n sat down, interlacing her hand with the taller girl's. she watched as wonyoung followed, a small blush on her face as she stared at her with love.

love was consuming y/n.

"what happened anyway?" yujin hummed, not noticing the tension forming in the air.

gaeul could only sigh. her girlfriend was as dense as she was pretty, and at times like these, it was unfortunate that yujin was insanely beautiful.

"did jiwon go ballistic?" yujin's eyes sparkled at the thought of wonyoung's roommate beating someone up. "minju-sunbaenim always gave me crazy vibes, especially when you and wonyoung broke up. i guess the apple doesn't fall far from the - ow!"

gaeul smiled at wonyoung, sitting innocently as if she didn't kick yujin at full force. if rei hadn't been so worried, a snicker would've slipped passed her lips.

right now was jiwon. she'd deal with idiots later.

"don't listen to her." wonyoung smiled, and y/n could feel herself floating. "unnie's just like that sometimes."

unnie.

wonyoung had never called y/n that. not before them, not during them, not after. she called gaeul unnie. same with yujin. she even called jimin unnie at one point.

y/n swallowed.

maybe she did something wrong. maybe wonyoung saw her as lesser than them. maybe this was a sign that her wonyoung had been someone else this entire time.

y/n looked at the taller girl, grinning at her with shiny eyes.

no. wonyoung wasn't jimin or minjeong.

(but what if she was?)

"jiwon-ssi..." gaeul looked at the extent of the bruises. "how hard did you punch them?"

y/n and jiwon looked at each other, both thinking of the deep cut that the younger kim had somehow administered to minjeong.

"not that hard..."

gaeul sighed. her wrist brace wasn't going to be much use against a boxer's fracture. "you need to go to the doctor for this. i'm ninety percent sure you broke it."

rei could feel her stomach drop. she had never felt more anxious in her life, and it wasn't even about her. at times like these, she wished she had her license, just to be there with the kim at the hospital. rei knew that minju wasn't gonna let her near her sister.

rei wished she was invisible, just this once.

jiwon nodded, looking at y/n who seemed deep in her thoughts once more. something was going on inside her head, jiwon just couldn't place it. all she knew was that minjeong was the cause.

a loud banging erupted throughout the room, y/n jumping back slightly. it was harder than last time, the knocking. it sounded as if someone was ramming the door open and if any of the girls listened closer, they would hear the doorknob shaking against the frame.

y/n wondered what would've happened if she didn't see minjeong last night. she understood why, but all at the cost of her friends well being. it might've not been her decision, but she had a say.

she always had a say.

y/n felt stupid.

wonyoung gave y/n's hand a light squeeze before letting go. she headed towards the door, the pounding never stopping. if she didn't open it soon, her ra would definitely get her in trouble, especially the one on duty.

as the volleyball player began to open the door, her eyes focused on the sliver of light that peaked into the hallway.

black. specifically jimin's black jacket.

wonyoung found herself stumbling backwards as the door rammed open. she closed her eyes, waiting for the fall but all she felt was the tightening of her collar, and the graze of someone's kuckles against her collarbone.

her eyes opened, and all she saw were jimin's dark irises.

"you."

jimin was angry. she was livid. everything she did ended up back to wonyoung. if it was volleyball, wonyoung was there. if it was school, wonyoung's 'fans' were in the vicinity. even when she ate, wonyoung's face would be plastered on her water bottle.

there were some upsides though.

"where's aeri?"

yujin tensed, nearly pouncing on jimin if not for gaeul's disapproving look. she wouldn't hold back, not with her friends.

gaeul knew that, and she prayed that somehow, the situation would get diffused before it escalated.

"what the-" wonyoung tried to pry jimin's grip off of her, only for it to tighten even more. "sunbaenim, are you insane?"

y/n had never felt rage consume her. she didn't know how it felt like, in all honesty. she was used to the sadness that jimin had provided her, but somehow, it tripled. it overwhelmed her, like the love that minjeong had confessed to her the day prior, or the pressure that weighed wonyoung down.

she was free from jimin, but not her effect.

"jimin." y/n stood up, her voice hoarse. "stop it."

it felt familiar to wonyoung, in a painful way.

"you're protecting her?" the veins on jimin's head popped, her face an angry red as she stared at y/n. "you're fucking kidding me. yizhuo was right?"

y/n sighed. she was getting tired of this. of everything.

"what are you talking about?"

"you're fucking wonyoung again." jimin would always be second to wonyoung, to everyone. it didn't matter how hard she loved or how much she tried. she was her father's daughter, and she was getting his punishment. "god, you just open your legs up for anyone."

y/n wanted to scream. she wanted to yell at jimin, at minjeong to leave her alone. she wanted them to get out of her mind, and to move some place else where she would never have to think about them ever again.

all y/n could feel was red.

"i could say the same for you, jimin."

wonyoung frowned. her y/n was never angry, at least not outwardly. even if she was, y/n never stooped as low as jimin.

something was wrong. something was broken.

(wonyoung hoped she was okay, whatever it was.)

jimin tightened her grip, her eyebrows furrowing. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means what you think it means." it was like lava, pooling out of her mouth like an unstoppable wave. "let. wonyoung. go."

the room fell silent, and wonyoung was sure that jimin loosened her grip for a split second. the ace scanned y/n's eyes, dark and angry before jimin balled up more of wonyoung's shirt.

she could feel jimin's knuckles pressing against her neck, and wonyoung fought back an urge to cough.

"is this about minjeong?" jimin rolled her eyes. she didn't understand why it was such a big deal, especially since she loved y/n, not minjeong. "is that why you're acting all bitchy all of a sudden?"

y/n flinched back, the overwhelming sadness suddenly rendering her speechless. anger helped her forget it, and although it seemed like a plus side, it felt gross.

y/n looked at wonyoung, and guilt love began to consume her once more.

"minjeong came onto me." y/n fought back tears. she was tired of trying to figure out who's side was real, and who was there for her and not her body. "everyone comes to me eventually."

yujin tensed once more. she was sick of jimin. her hot-headedness made the team walk eggshells around her, blaming everyone but herself for all her failures.

for once, she wanted to put jimin in her place.

"now..." jimin glared at wonyoung. "where's aeri, jang?"

wonyoung didn't know. she didn't even know about the whole minjeong-jimin thing until jimin had pounced on her, but if jimin didn't know where aeri was, that meant that she was safe.

wonyoung kept her mouth sealed shut, returning an angry glare.

"where the fuck is she?" wonyoung could feel jimin tightening her grip once more, her balled up fists pressing against her trachea. she had never wanted to punch someone in her life, but jimin was making it difficult.

"answer my question!" jimin's voice boomed, and wonyoung was sure everyone could hear it.

gaeul bit her tongue. she forgot how annoying yeji's jimin was.

quietly, gaeul spoke, not wanting to anger the ace any further. "she doesn't know."

"i wasn't talking to you, you slut." jimin snapped at gaeul. y/n could feel yujin tense from beside her, wonyoung shaking her head at her captain. jimin gripped wonyoung tighter, her knuckles turning white. "where is she, wonyoung? where's aeri?"

"i don't know."

"don't bullshit me." jimin grumbled, her voice low and her eyes angry. "i know you're useless, but you aren't this useless."

jimin was like wonyoung's mother in every sense. not only was she conventionally pretty, she was demanding and negligent to those around her. she used her words as a weapon, and her authority as leverage.

but wonyoung was a jang, and she knew how to get a rise out of someone.

"i said i don't know, jimin."

jimin didn't call her father dad anymore. not only had he failed as a husband, he had failed as a person. jimin didn't need to call someone that an honorific when they didn't deserve it.

but jimin wasn't her dad. she couldn't be.

"i'm your sunbae."

she was, in everyone's eyes but her own.

"then act like it."

jimin liked the pain of punching someone.

she liked the way her hand stung, akin to a spike. she liked her knuckles bright red, a physical sight that she was doing something right. jimin didn't like to think about the pain it inflicted on others, unless they deserved it.

jang wonyoung did, however. she deserved all the pain.

jimin winded her hand back, and wonyoung was ready to take the punch head on. she needed proof that jimin had hurt someone once more, a teammate. if getting rid of jimin for the rest of her school year meant a bruised cheek, then wonyoung would absolutely tank it.

wonyoung closed her eyes and a thud could be heard reverberating throughout the room.

she felt nothing.

the volleyball player opened her eyes, only to feel herself getting pulled back as she watched gaeul and rei scramble to stop yujin. she shook them off, ignoring jimin trying to push her head away.

ahn yujin, in all her glory, landed punch after punch on the ace. she was tired of all the pent up anger that she felt towards yeji jimin. she was tired of the older girl in every sense.

yujin wasn't gonna let another version of yeji hurt her friends.

the stinging of her hands got worse and worse as her anger rose. puffs of air released out of her mouth as each strike seemed stronger than the last. eventually, jimin was gonna let her guard down, and then yujin could strike the way she wanted to.

wonyoung needed to stop this, but she couldn't get physical. her father would kill her, and her mother would send her off to america if she got suspended.

she rushed back in, her eyes wide as she tried to pull yujin off. yujin was gonna get suspended, she knew it. the amount of damage she already left was enough to down a grown man.

anger was terrifying.

she saw specks of blood fly everywhere, the captain muttering curses under her breath before getting flipped over.

jimin's blooded face glistened against the light of wonyoung's room, swelling and full of cuts. her covered arms were filled with bruises, but she didn't care. right now, she wanted yujin to pay.

wrapping one hand around yujin's neck to steady her, jimin raised her fist, slamming it down onto the younger girl's face. she could feel something splatter against her skin, and it only fueled the ace further.

despite gaeul and rei's best efforts, jimin was stronger than yujin, and there was no way they could get her off, especially without wonyoung's help.

it didn't matter anymore. if wonyoung didn't do something, yujin might die.

frantically, wonyoung wrapped her arm around jimin's neck, choking her out as she pulled the older girl off yujin. she could feel jimin clawing against her arm, and wonyoung gritted her teeth, feeling blood seep out.

yujin sat up, the left side of her face tattered into shreds. gaeul rushed to her side, the captain watching as jimin struggled to get wonyoung off.

"bitch."

wonyoung looked at y/n, her eyes wide as the older girl kept jiwon behind her. she shook her head, signaling wonyoung to let go. the taller girl nodded, her arm dropping to her side as jimin fell forward, eyes red as she coughed.

she was definitely gonna get sent to america.

as the room fell quiet, jimin's coughing and yujin's heaving seemed to get louder. wonyoung could see the specks of blood littering the floor, and could feel the stinging of her arm.

a cough took their attention away from the bloodied volleyball players.

shit. the ra woke up.

"yuqi-sunbaenim."

"the cops are on their way." she shut her eyes tightly, looking at jimin. at least the girl got a good beating. too bad the others had to face a similar punishment. "don't try to talk your way out of this."

wonyoung nodded, her head hanging low.

"can we go...?" y/n asked, jiwon wincing behind her as her hand became more painful by the minute. "her hand-"

"if you two didn't get involved, then you can go."

y/n nodded, bowing slightly as jimin finally stopped coughing, a bruise on her neck.

"wonyoung?"

y/n looked at the girl in front of her, red running down her arm.

worry encapsulated her entire being, eyebrows furrowing at the sight. wonyoung was hurt, just like jiwon. yujin was hurt, just like jiwon. somehow, y/n hurt two people in one sitting, two people who didn't deserve it.

she could've done something. she should've done something.

"we're okay."

wonyoung could always see right through her.

it terrified her.

carefully, y/n lifted the volleyball player's arm. she could see the marks deep, and an angry red.

she just wanted the pain to go away, hers and wonyoung.

"i'm okay." wonyoung whispered. y/n always got worried about things she didn't need to worry about. "i'll live."

"okay." her wonyoung was real. she was sincere, and familiar. her wonyoung wouldn't hurt her.

y/n loved jang wonyoung, bleeding or not.

"text me how it goes, okay?"

wonyoung's eyes hid the stinging with a smile, quietly admiring the girl in front of her as y/n took jiwon's hand. "i will."

y/n nodded. she trusted wonyoung, just like she trusted jimin and minjeong. it couldn't backfire, not again. not with her wonyoung.

wonyoung moved aside, ignoring jimin glaring at her (she wanted to mock the other girl, powerless against the ra of the building, but that would just cause more problems).

y/n came to a halt, turning to face wonyoung.

"oh, and," a kiss on the cheek. "for... for your arm."

wonyoung didn't care. it was worth it.

"oh!" she bit her tongue, yujin cackling in the corner as gaeul scolded her not to move too much. rei gave her a thumbs up, before giving jiwon a worried gaze. "yeah, of course."

y/n nodded awkwardly, tugging jiwon's free hand.

"jiwon," y/n ignored her stare. "let's go."

the two exited the room, jiwon wincing with every swing of her arm. y/n would have to call minju once they got to the hospital.

god, minju was gonna kill everyone in that room and then her.

"did you just kiss her?"

y/n blushed as the elevator opened.

"on her cheek, ji." y/n shook her head. "you need to stop hanging out with yuri-unnie."

as jiwon entered the elevator, y/n followed her inside. the younger girl faced away from her, cradling her hand and trying to stabilize it.

for a moment, y/n relaxed. no one was looking at her. no one had to see the turmoil she had gone through. she sighed quietly, her face dropping, eyes a void of anger and frustration, of pain and hurt.

everything was consuming her.

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[skybluewritings]

Last Summer Part 4, Felix Catton x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

Note: Thank you so much for all the support! This chapter is going to be a good one so stick around!

Two weeks had passed by quickly at Saltburn. She was surprised by how normal it had begun to feel, well normal was maybe an exaggeration. After an extremely stressful final year of university it was rejuvenating to do absolutely nothing each and every day. To wake up and have no plan of how the day might go. She might find herself doing any activity from playing drunk tennis in a silk dress to messing around with Venetia’s Ouija board in the library. The latter was not preferred by certain people (Felix).

And yet her time at Saltburn according to Farleigh had been fairly tame compared some of their previous summers. She still wondered about what Felix meant when he had told her was excited to finally have “good memories of his home in the summer.”

 

They were sprawled across the floor of a lavish bedroom, everyone was in varying states of drunkenness. A game of truth or dare had been going for the past hour, with the dares becoming increasingly more risqué. Two of the guys playing were old friends of Felix and if she was being honest she despised them both. One was a ginger named Hugo and the other a blonde named R.J. Hugo was the worst of the two, it was his party which made him be able to get away with being extra obnoxious. (Name) was sat next to Venetia, and it was her turn to pick a truth or dare. Felix had temporarily left the room to find more alcohol which meant without him as a grounding force this could go in any direction.

 

“I pick truth.” Venetia decided.

 

R.J scoffed at her. “You have to pick dare at some point you can’t keep picking truth.”

 

Venetia glared back. “Fine then dare.”

 

“I dare you to flash your tits to everyone in the room.” RJ said elbowing Hugo.

 

Farleigh rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

 

(Name) noticed Venetia stiffen next to her. “I-I’m not doing that.”

 

Hugo spoke up. “Last summer you gave me a handy outside and now you’re getting all shy?”

 

“Right, you don’t speak to her like that okay?” Farleigh snapped at Hugo.

 

“I’m sorry but what is that noise coming out your mouth?” Hugo snorted both he and RJ snickering like little boys.

 

Venetia had become uncharacteristically quiet. (Name) grit her teeth she was not about to allow her friends especially Venetia to be humiliated.

 

“Hugo this party is very-decadent.” (Name) told him. "Tiki Torches what a bold choice.."

 

He smirked at her. “Thank you-“

 

She let out a laugh. “Actually, it wasn’t a compliment, which you would know if you were less concerned with the gel in your hair and the porn on your computer, and picked up a dictionary every once in awhile.”

 

A chorus of oooing sounds came from the rest of the circle. Hugo didn’t bother to reply choosing to sulk instead. She felt her hand being squeezed in thanks by Venetia.

 

“Whatever, Venetia still needs to do her dare.” RJ pointed out.

 

Everyone stared at Venetia who shrank even more into herself.

 

“She’s not doing it I’ll take her dare.” (Name) replied. “But I’m not showing anything to anyone.”

 

“We could come up with a new dare.” Farleigh suggested, she smiled gratefully at him and he returned the smile.

 

 “Fine. She has to strip off in front of the whole party-“ (Name) gave RJ a warning look. “Strip off to her underwear and jump in the pool.”

 

She let out a sigh. “If you get me a shot I’ll do it.”

 

*

The group made their way out to the pool, the alcohol from the shot was making her head fuzzy which was good because it would take away the sting of humiliation. She stood by the pool next to Venetia, everyone was momentarily in conversation whilst she worked up the confidence to do it.

 

“You really don’t have to do this you know.” Venetia told her finally speaking up.

 

She shrugged. “I’ve already accepted it, those are the rules of truth or dare. Also I might be quite drunk.”

 

Venetia was able to muster a small smile. “Thank you for doing this to take the attention off me.”

 

“It’s nothing really, I was just looking out for a fellow girl all be it I’m now about to show a bunch of strangers my new Victoria secret set.” She responded rubbing her face. “Oh god this is really stupid.”

 

Venetia gave her a supportive pat on the back.

 

Hugo cleared his throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen this young lady has an announcement for you all.” He was treating her like she was on a game show.

 

Most of the crowded patio look over at them. She really had no choice now. She slowly edged closer to the pool.

 

“Come on then!” Hugo called out from behind her making her want to throttle him.

 

“This is a dare by the way.” She awkwardly explained to the crowd.

 

The confused murmurs turned to cheers when she finally pulled her cami top over her head, there was less commotion at her graduation than this. She was left in denim shorts and a lacey bra. As she unbuttoned her shorts a voice stopped her.

 

Felix jogged over. “What the hell are you doing?!”

 

He put down the bottle of wine and moved to stand in front. He grasped her upper arms, blocking the view of her half naked body. He gazed at her chest for a second before looking back up at her bashfully.

 

“I leave you for five minutes and-where are your clothes?!" He asked her.

 

Having him stand this closely sent a shiver through her, although it could be the fact, she was shirtless.

 

"I was dared to jump in the pool in my underwear." She explained the confidence leaving her voice.

 

"Hurry up!" Hugo yelled, a few others egging him on.

 

"Fucking prick." Felix muttered under his breath. This made her smile.

 

"I should probably get on with it." She told him, the pool growing more and more omninous.

 

Felix exhaled heavily. "Before you do that."

 

He pulled off his own shirt making her jaw drop a little, no matter how many times she had seen him shirtless in the past two weeks it always caught her off guard. His act earned him a few wolf whistles.

 

She let out a shocked laugh. "You didn't have to do that."

 

He shook his head. "What kind of friend would I be if I let you do this alone."

 

"She needs to take off more!" RJ shouted.

 

"Nope no she doesn't!" Felix shouted back.

 

He held out his hand to her and she took it.

 

"Ready?" He asked with a smile.

 

"Ready." She said smiling back.

 

They ran towards the pool and plunged straight in. When they surfaced from the water other people had started to jump in some even fully clothed. They begun to laugh.

 

He moved some of the wet hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. His hand didn't completely leave her face, delicately tracing her cheek bone. She blinked up at him, noticing for the first time the flecks of green in his hazel eyes. She was so close to him she could feel the heat from his body.

 

 Both their heads tilted and inched closer. She gazed down to his lips which looked so plump and inviting.

 

"You know I never realised you had freckles on your nose." Felix told her, her eyes flickering back up to meet his.

 

She chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

 

He softly laughed. "Yeah, they're really pretty."

 

Suddenly someone crashed into the pool straight next to them, practically a wave of water hitting them. They moved apart from one another the moment gone.

 

The person who had interrupted them was of course Farleigh who grinned at them cheekily.

 

"Are you  gonna gaze into each other's eyes or are we gonna have some fun?" He asked making them both huff out in annoyance.

 

She would spin what had happened between them round and round in her mind later, for now her friend was right it was time to have some fun!

 

*

Several hours later they were sat in a cab on their way home. She was now fully dressed again but her hair was still damp from the pool. She had also drunken much more than she intended. Both Venetia and Farleigh were asleep one in the front seat the other in the back. Only her and Felix were awake.

 

She stared up at him giddily, leaning into him.

 

He looked at her in amusement. “Why are you just staring at me?”

 

She hiccupped. “I’m trying to work out how you’re so attractive.”

 

“Genetics? I don’t know.” He chuckled. “Why are you thinking about that anyway?”

 

She ignored his question. “Like tonight you looked incredible, and I hate that I didn’t tell you that.”

 

He grinned at her. “How did you get this drunk?”

 

She liked him so much it was suffocating, and it was frustrating that despite wanting to hide it he’d never been able to tell. With the alcohol lowering her inhibitions it was harder to suppress her true feelings.

 

She sighed and flopped back against her seat, head spinning. “You just don’t get it!”

 

“I don’t get what?”

 

“Just how much you effect me.”

 

“Effect you?”

 

“Yes.” She said matter of factly. “It drives me literally crazy.”

 

“What-what are you talking about, are you trying to tell me something?” He asked her his tone becoming more serious.

 

The spinning got worse, this would have to wait. She rested her head on Felix’s shoulder.

 

“Sorry do you mind? My head hurts.” She asked voice slurred.

 

He felt rigid against her but eventually relaxed. “No of course not. Why don’t you close your eyes.”

 

Once she closed her eyes in her hazy state, she could’ve sworn she felt him stroke her hair.

*

When the cab arrived back at Saltburn they all blearily woke up. They tipped the cab driver and went into the house. Venetia and Farleigh wished them goodnight and went in the direction of their respective bedrooms.

 

She swayed a little when she walked, the short nap not fully sobering her up. Felix put an arm around her helping to guide her up the stairs.

 

When they reached the landing she tripped on the carpet nearly losing her footing.

 

He let out a sigh. “This is killing me, come here.”

 

“What are you doing-“She was cut off by him picking her up and carrying her bridal style. She gripped onto his neck and giggled in disbelief, about how this gorgeous man was now carrying her through the halls of a grand house like she was some damsel in distress.

*

He carefully placed her back on her feet once she was in her bedroom.

 

“Stay here I’m getting you a glass of water.” He told her going into the bathroom.

 

She sat on the edge of the bed leaning back on her hands whilst she waited for him. He came back from the bathroom and passed her the glass of water. He sat down next to her, patiently waiting for her to finish it. She set the empty glass on the bedside table nearly dropping it.

 

“All good?” He said.

 

She kissed his shoulder. “Yeah, thank you.”

 

She had never even kissed him on the cheek before. He touched the spot she had kissed. He was looking at her in this way that was different, she couldn’t fully determine what it was yet. “You know earlier when you said about me effecting you? Well I didn’t really understand what you meant but maybe I can show you how you effect me.”

 

She didn’t reply confused about where he was going with this. He gently took her hand and placed it on his chest. His heartbeat pulsed beneath her palm, the longer her hand stayed the quicker it became.

 

"Your heart's beating really fast right now." She quietly said.

 

His breath hitched. "Yeah I know."

 

She removed her hand and clasped it with her other, she could still feel his heartbeat. He gnawed at his lip waiting for her to give some type of response. She had a suspicion as to what he was trying to tell her, but she was too out of it to fully comprehend it. She didn’t know how on earth to react.

 

“Maybe it’s too late for this.” He softly said rubbing at the back of his neck. “I should let you sleep.”

 

He got up from the bed and went to leave the room, he looked back at her. Her lips parted but no words came out, after waiting long enough he gave up and closed the door behind him. She lay back on her bed trying to work out what had just happened.

Tag List: @emitaylorsverson @twiceinabluemoon

[spinchip]

“I’m sorry about your hair.” Nya says from the comfort of the bathroom doorway. Not inside, close to the halo of hacked brown locks, but not entirely outside- close enough to reassure but with a quick escape would be easy, if this conversation was unwelcome.

Dot makes a soft humming noise as she trims the fringe framing her face, her eyes exhausted but resolved as she makes sure the sides are perfectly even, “hair grows back.”

“Still, though.” Nya fidgets with the doorknob just to do something with her hands, “You loved your hair. Was there really no saving it?”

“The matting was too severe.” Dot says lightly, “Besides, even if there was a way to save it… well, it’s a bit too late now.”  she sweeps chunks of her once long hair into the garbage bin by the toilet. The pixie cut is strange and foreign on her, to Nyas eyes. She’d only ever know Dot with hair long enough to brush her lower back.

Dot grabs her canes and makes her way towards the door. There’s still hair on the floor, but Nya wisely doesn’t comment on it. In all the years she’d now known Dakota, she was never one to leave a mess. She wasn’t okay, and Nya doubted that handing her a broom would do anything to help. She backs up so Dot can join her in the hallway, and she follows her as she heads to the kitchen.

“I’ve never seen your hair this short.” She says because she’s really not sure what to say, “Even in the pictures with you and Leo it was to your shoulders.” there’s a pause, “It looks nice!” She adds awkwardly, suddenly acutely aware she may not be making things better.

Though Dot doesn’t seem to mind. She grabs a water bottle and tucks it under her armpit as she leads Nya back out of the kitchen, “It was short most of my childhood.” She says conversationally, “Chemo started young so all my hair fell out, then after remission right as it started getting long I had a recurrence and had to go for another round. I kept it short out of habit for a while after that- not this short, maybe similar to how I had it cut in those old photos.”

Nya had long since stopped comparing Dot to Zane, but sometimes she’s still struck with just how different the two masters of ice were. When it came to difficult topics, you’d need a can opener to get Zane to cough up any details. Dot had no qualms discussing the traumas of her life, with only the great devourer attack being a sensitive subject- but even then, if you asked she was willing to discuss.

So why Nya thinks to herself am I so scared to ask about the Never Realm?

They go out to the garden along the side of the monastery, fresh flowers blooming and a sweet hanging screen hanging in the air. Dot settles down on the bench there, setting her crutches to the side and cracking her water bottle to take a sip. This had always been her favorite spot in the monastery, and doubly-so after the Never Realm. She sits out here in the sun for hours, soaking up the warmth and lost in thought. Nya sits down next to her, feeling only a little like she’s intruding.

“Are you okay?” she asks quickly, ripping off the bandaid.

Dot had her head back, basking in the sunlight when Nya asked. Her lips curl into a sad smile as she cracks her eye open to look at nya in her peripheral, “Of course not.”

And maybe this hesitation Nya was struggling through was rooted in that tiny little smile. That was the most emotion she’s shown in the days since she came back- a small, starved thing that struggled past the apathy settled like weights along her shoulders. That just wasn’t natural. Dot cried over spilt milk- she cooed at cute animals and pouted when she lost board games and laughed and smile so loud and so bright you knew she was happy two rooms away.everything Nya knows about her indicates the fall out should be an atomic bomb going off, but instead the monastery is quiet and still and Dot doesn’t do anything but sit out here in the sun.

“I’m sorry.” She offers again.

Dot sighs and Nyas never heard her sigh like that, either. A put-upon, tired thing. Exhausted, “I know you mean well, but i don’t really like to hear apologies when I’m having a rough day.”

Nya blinks. That was certainly news to her, “Oh, uh, I’ll try to stop then. Why haven't you said anything before?”

she closes her eyes again, “I heard it all the time as a kid. Started to really grate on my nerves, but I usually don’t say anything because I know it's largely a sign of sympathy. It feels rude to shoot someone's sympathy down like that… the truth is I just don’t like it.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Nya doesn’t know where to go from here, so they just enjoy the sunlight together.

A light breeze ruffles Nyas hair right before Dot speaks again, “I know everyone is worried about me.” she states plainly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be okay.” Dot reassures her gently.

Nya looks away, “After seeing you up on that throne-” Dot flinches, but Nya barrels on, “I just don’t know how anyone could bounce back from that alone. We’re here for you, all of us are.”

There’s another long silence.

Nya continues, “...if there’s one thing I've always thought I knew about you, it's that you feel your emotions very deeply and very openly. I haven’t seen you cry once since you got back.”

The breeze liberates a few flowers from the dogwood above their heads and the white flowers trickle to the ground like falling snow.

Dakota swallows thickly and sits up more, she hesitates for a moment before speaking, “...I have had a lot of bad experiences throughout my life, Nya. I don’t think I’ve gone ten years without a new tragedy.” She starts, looking down at her hands where she is twisting her fingers together as she strings together her words, “granted, this is much different than just another hospital stay… but after each of those events I just needed time. A lot happened here, most of it stuff that I feel a great deal of shame, pain, and guilt over. I’m working though my thoughts and emotions mostly internally right now, because I don’t think I could handle the fallout if I fully unbottled these feelings just yet.” She explains.

“I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to go through this alone.”

“I’m not. I actually do have someone I’ve been discussing things with-” Her eye slickers to air next to her, but Nya’s looking at the flowers drifting in the wind and doesn’t quite catch that, “and I've slowly been letting the pressure off. Think of it like cracking a coke a little and waiting for the carbonation to go down? That way it doesn’t go exploding out of the bottle.”

Nya chuckles a little at that, “I like that analogy.” The grin slides off her face as she thinks everything over and Dot notices.

“Listen, Nya… when bad things happen, sometimes the only thing you can do is accept that this is the way it is. I can’t change the past, I can’t stop what has already finished, but I can choose where to go from here.” Dot smiles weakly again.

Several long moments pass as Nya really absorbs what Dot says before she responds. With a small returned smile, Nya leans over and bumps Dots elbow with hers, “Well, please remember you don’t have to figure it out on your own. you’ve got plenty of people who are here to help, okay? We love you.”

“I love you guys too.” Dot smiles again, and it’s genuine this time.

[taesanluv3r]

art class

park sungho x reader

minimal dialogue (except for the end), lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors. warning: you will be kicking your feet and giggling, so read under your own discretion.

wc: 3,486

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

now playing...art class by beabadoobee.

the crack of light seeping in through her thin curtains and the sound of beeping coming from her bed-side alarm clock awakens the young girl up with a groan. yn ln gets up from bed, her hair in tangles and her eyes still closed shut as she stretches her arms out and yawns. finally allowing for sight, the girl looks over at her phone, sighing at the time before deciding to finally get ready for the thing she always dreaded the most, school. however, upon checking her time-table that was conveniently stuck onto the otherwise plain white wood of her closet, a small smile cracks against her lips, lifting up onto the apples of her cheeks. she had art that day. it was the girl's favourite subject. partially because she loved to get creative, but mostly because of the quiet boy that sits across from her in the classroom. a tall, broad-shouldered boy with the most perfect face. he goes by the name of park sungho.

she gets to class, taking a seat in front of her easel before spreading out her supplies beside her, letting out a sigh at the empty canvas that she was supposed to magically turn into her final project by the end of the week. the girl's attention is taken by the sound of the door creaking, a certain broad-shouldered boy walking right past her and over to his own seat. he looked good today, he always looks good, but something feels a little different. did he shave? the boy shoots her a shy smile when he catches her staring, the flustered girl hiding behind her empty canvas when he did so. in the three months they've been enrolled in this class together, sungho and yn had never properly interacted before, apart from the lingering gazes and awkward smiles, of course. three whole months they've sat across from each other in the classroom, she had managed to analyze every single one of his habits, like how he tucked his dark hair behind his ear, his tongue sticking out slightly as he brushed light strokes against his canvas, but did the boy she liked so much even know her name? yn longs for the day he'd come up to her, breaking away from both of their shyness and finally sharing a word, or two. she'd be pleased with just anything, even if he were to just ask her how she was. however, at least as of this moment right now, that remains a simple scenario inside of her rather imaginative brain.

she wished for it though, hoping one day it would come true. to be honest, this little crush she had developed was beginning to drive her insane. the way he sat there, focusing deeply on his artwork, leaving her to just stare, silently praying she'd be the one he gave all his attention to next. and then when he'd turn away for a moment, eyes lingering as they met with her own, his lips would turn into a smile. that stupid smile that had her so...distracted. that's what it was, that's what he was, a distraction.

as days go by, the girl began to lose sleep. she found herself skipping meals as she spent all her free time working on her project. the project that's deadline is starting to feel too real, the project that she should've been doing all those hours in the art room, but instead she spent daydreaming about the handsome guy across from her. yn's gaze drops onto her final art work, the theme was beauty in our surroundings. clichè, i know, she laughs as she recalls her teacher's face as he announced it, messily scribbling the title in cursive letters onto the white-board. what's an art class however without a little cheesy-ness? yn stares at the terrible excuse for a sketch on her canvas. when she heard the theme, the first thing she thought of was flowers- yes, an overused concept but please hear her out, she's got a perfectly reasonable explanation! the messy pencil markings formed the shape of lilacs, a beautiful light-violet plant that, at least according to the internet, describes the 'first pangs of love beginning a romantic journey'. was the girl aware of it's lovely meaning when she had drawn them? no. in fact, the pretty flowers just so happened to be in the classroom when she started the project, sitting silently on a shelf by the window. the window that allowed natural light to seep in, illuminating against the figure in front of her, illuminating against his face.

the next day rolls around rather quickly and the girl finds herself back in the art room once again. it was their final day to work on their pieces before having to present it to their peers and teacher so yn, even though she would love to just sit and stare at her crush all day, decides to lock in and actually finish painting her lilacs. she finds it a little difficult however, a sudden feeling of being watched tickling against her skin. yn caves, looking up from her canvas and to the guy across from her. and she swears, just for a moment, she had caught him staring at her. sungho's eyes darting away as fast as they could to focus onto his own project again. not wanting to be any more distracted than she had already been this past week, she shrugs it off, deciding that the delusions were getting the best of her and going back to her painting in silence. unbeknownst to her though, what she had seen was right, he was staring. and the minute she wasn't looking at him the boy's eyes went straight back to her. observing, as if he were analyzing each of her features in detail, painting a portrait in his brain.

the bell rings suddenly, sending the overly focused girl to jump a little at the sound. yn could hear him laugh faintly, a red tint staining her face as her eyes wandered off to the broad-shouldered guy that had begun packing away his paintbrushes. the girl does the same but faster, wanting to get out of there as quickly as she could before the blush on her cheeks could get any more visible. he beats her though, that same stupid smile that drove her crazy plastered onto his lips as he walked by her, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air around the love-sick yn. it was sweet and fresh, sungho's scent was not the same kind of male musk smell the other guys at school wore. and it stuck with her, the honey notes of his perfume remaining on her mind as she walked home, images of his perfect features and his perfect body paired with his perfect smell just flashing in her head for the rest of the day and all through the night.

the next morning yn starts her day in physics class, waiting impatiently as the clock moves in what felt like slow motion. art was next and the girl was just itching for it to come by faster. she was excited. for one, to show off her finished painting that she had grown to be insanely proud of. and also to see what the ever so handsome sungho had to present that day as well. when the loud ring of the school bell so much as touched the very surface of her eardrums, the girl got up from her seat, carelessly stuffing her belongings into her backpack and grabbing her large canvas before running out the door and over to the other end of the hallway and into the art room. to her surprise, she wasn't the first one there. instead, the boy she was oh, so fond of stood right before her. he looked particularly pretty that day, his hair neatly tucked behind his ear as usual and the pretty blue of his button-down shirt harmonious with his pale complexion. sungho's eyes widened a bit when she walked in, suddenly scrambling to keep his final piece hidden from her. weird, she thought, but figured he just wanted it to be a surprise for everyone to see later.

the atmosphere was awkward, much like all their other silent interactions, but it was he who looked flustered this time. a pink-ish colour decorating the high points of his face as he looked anywhere but at her for a moment. yn smiled softly at the rare sight of the usually composed boy, finding his shy demeanor just cute. their half-awkward-half-sweet moment was interrupted as the rest of the students entered the brightly lit classroom, their teacher following in shortly after. with a couple words from the old, artsy man who taught their class, it was finally time for them to present their final art pieces.

the first few people begin, leaving yn and sungho to be the last students to go, how convenient. "thank you, that was lovely! yn, you're next!" her teacher's voice knocked her out of the trance she didn't even realize she was in, the man's head tilted towards the front of the class where she was supposed to stand. finally, the girl walks up to the front, her canvas turned to face her, shielding her painting away from the eyes that were all fixed onto her. even his.

"so um...the theme for the project was the beauty in our surroundings, and to be real with you guys, i didn't really know what to do..." she starts, holding back the reveal of her piece. "but as i was coming up with ideas, i caught a glimpse of that plant over there" the girl lifts a hand out to point at the cluster of flowers near the window, the eyes of her peers following as they turned to look for themselves before averting their gazes back at her. "lilacs" yn says, finally turning the canvas around to reveal her detailed painting. the room is filled with a chorus of 'o's as she did so, "beautiful, tell us more!" her teacher butts in with a compliment. "well, when i first sketched this piece out, i kind of only did it because it was right in front of me. but after researching some more, i found out the true meaning that, in a way, really spoke to me" her eyes moved over to the boy in blue, his own ones meeting with hers as he listened carefully to her words, shooting her his signature smile that just always manages to send her flying. "it symbolizes the new and confusing feelings of first love. like you know, when you swear you don't like a guy and suddenly he smiles at you and that's all you can think about for days?" she pauses, as if waiting for her little audience to answer. "and so i think, even though these flowers meant barely a thing to me at first, the true meaning ended up being the most relatable thing ever. sort of like it was...fate" and with that her presentation comes to an end, her teacher shooting her a suggestive smirk as he walks closer to her. "so...care to share who you had in mind?" yn blushes, her cheeks and ears going bright red like a tomato. the man chuckles, patting her back lightly, "i'm just kidding. good job on the painting, go back to your seat please. and park sungho! you're up"

the girl walks back to her spot, making eye contact with her crush as he walks opposite to her to stand in front of the classroom for his turn. she watches as he stands up tall, back straight as he clears his throat, stroking a veiny hand through his hair. "so..." the boy starts, letting out a nervous breath before he speaks again. "when i heard the theme, beauty in our surroundings, i only had one thing in mind" sungho's tone is proud, and she swears he stopped to look directly at her for a moment. "and so my final art work is exactly that. a beauty, at least to me, that i have the privilege of sitting across from every single time i step foot in this very classroom" she can't process his words, not even when he makes proper eye contact with her. the girl's mind was blank, lost in her head as she stares lovingly at the handsome guy in front of her. "and the subject of my piece.." only then does she come back to life, a hand flying up to halt the quiet gasp that escaped her mouth. the boy's painting is revealed, a detailed portrait of none other that she herself.

"yn ln"

she's not the only one in shock, the whole batch of art students falling silent, leaving the tension to float over their heads and around the room. "wow" their teacher says, ruining the peace. sungho is left standing there, anxiously waiting for the girl to process her thoughts and say something, anything, to him. "so...thoughts?" he decides to ask, eyebrows quirking up in curiosity. "you..." she begins, now getting up to get closer to him.

"you know my name?"

sungho could only laugh at her choice of words, they had been the first words she'd ever spoken to him, you would think she'd say something else. "of course i do" he replies, looking down at her slightly shorter figure with a soft grin on his face. "how could i not? you're all i can ever think of!" this was the most expressive anyone had ever seen him, a rare hint of excitement in the way that he spoke. yn's eyes glistened, looking up to meet his as a stunned expression washed over her complexion. "and you?" he does all the talking, her mind still all over the place and the words not quite coming out right despite the fact that her mouth remained wide opened. "huh?" she questions, head tilting of to the side as she did so. he laughs again, beginning to pull at her hand that still held her own final painting. "who's this about?" another tense silence fell against the room, the pair had seemingly forgotten about the other students and their teacher who were watching the scene go down in front of them, as if the classroom were a theater and these two were the main characters of a film. "um..." she stutters while looking down, removing her gaze from him for a moment to look at her creation, like she needed to regain all the memories her mind had deleted to save space for all the thoughts of him. nodding softly, the girl meets his eyes once more, this time, she wore a pretty smile. taking a deep breath before her pink lips open to speak again.

"you"

sungho can't help but break into the world's brightest grin, his eyes disappearing into crescent shapes as he did so, failing to hide the giddy feeling in his stomach. yn does the same, finding the boy's reaction to be just so contagious. it seemed the rest of the class had gotten the ending they wanted, clapping happily at the pair's mutual confession. "how sweet" the old art teacher says, moving closer to pat both of the, now embarrassed, students on their backs. "and sungho, beautiful piece! i can tell you put extra care into the details, you studied your subject well" the art student boy nods gratefully at the praise, his ears turning into dark red splotches at the man's last few words. "and yn, you did great too! looks to me you will both be passing with flying colours! congratulations for that and for your new found love, as well" the man winks before sending his students off to their seats, announcing that the class was being dismissed early in the name of love.

"so..." sungho says from across her, watching intently as she unscrews her easel and puts her supplies away in her bag. he doesn't continue though, getting distracted by the way the sun shined against her freshly washed hair and forgetting all about the conversation he had just started. "hello? sungho?" her voice removes him from his trance. "hm?" he asked confused, wondering when she had made her way over to stand right in front him, just inches away from his face. "i said..." she trails off, boldly reaching out to sweep a strand of his dark hair behind his ear. "i'm free tomorrow, or you can pick a date and i'll be free" the boy's eyes get big, the words he wanted to speak coming out as a bunch of incoherent stutters. she giggles, "i'll see you tomorrow, okay?" the girl says, the pitch of her voice going up a little at the end as she did so, turning around to walk out the door.

"WAIT!" his sudden raise in his voice causes her to halt, turning back to be met with his handsome face just a breath away from hers. "you..." he stutters again, suddenly feeling a familiar awkwardness taking over him as he stares deeply into the pretty girl's eyes. "i don't have your number yet..." now it's her turn to widen her eyes, embarrassment sending a wave of goosebumps to go down her body. how could she forget? they've literally never spoke before this! of course, he didn't have her number! her sudden shyness makes his tummy tingle, he can't help but giggle. "right...sorry" she mumbles, and at this moment it took him every bone and muscle in his body to stop himself from just engulfing her into his arms and stealing her away from the rest of the world. "here..." she begins, grabbing a hold of his arm and pulling out a marker from her bag. he twitches slightly when the ink comes in contact with his skin, admiring her silently as she began to jot down her digits on his wrist, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to remember the order of numbers correctly. "there" yn says, letting go of him and looking away as she stuffs the marker back into her bag. the girl looks up at him once more, the awkwardness fully disappearing as they zoned out for a minute, once again finding themselves lost in each other.

the bell rings, signalling for them to leave fast before they were late for their next class, removing them from their short trip to la la land. "so um...call me? or text me, whatever you want" yn says, earning a nod in return before she runs out the door to get to her math lesson. sungho stands there for a minute, looking over at the empty spot she was just standing in a second ago before averting his gaze to the numbers messily scribbled on his otherwise clean wrist. that same smile he always had plastered sheepishly on his handsome face, laughing to himself at the thought of finally conversing with the girl he too, had liked for the past three months since he enrolled in this art class.

even though that was the last they saw of each other for the day, the newly established pair of...what would you even call them? lovers? two people who mutually liked each other yet know little to nothing about each other...whatever they were, they went home with happiness in their hearts. yn slumped onto her bed, landing on her belly as she kicks her feet up and down gleefully. her earphones falling out slightly as she did so, causing the music that played to quiet down just a little bit. just then, the ping of her phone straight into her ear makes her sit up right in a matter of seconds.

i like you a lot btw :) - sungho

the unknown number's text sends a cluster of butterflies no- doves, to swarm in her stomach. she smiles, beginning to type a response, humming along to the quiet tune of the final verse of the beabadoobee song playing through her wired earphones.

i like you too. like a lot <3

and with that their confessions come to an end, bringing forth a new chapter in their love life. yn sighs in content, rolling over to lay on her side and she glances at the calendar hung up on the wall beside her bed. she gets up, grabbing a pink marker from her desk before walking up to it. on that day's date she drew a large pink heart, leaving a mark to remember the moment her deepest wishes came to life. right there in that art class, where all dreams seem to come true.

all my days, been trying to find a reason to stay. say my name, and i'll go ahead and pick a date, i'm okay, if you understand that this is fate, art class, art class.

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

EEEEEEE i literally was blushing so hard writing this 🤒🤒🤒 PLS PLS PLS listen to art class by beabadoobee while/before/even after u read!!! each scene was loosely based on the song lyrics in order so ♡^^ anyways i hope u guys liked this, as usual reblogs n feedback is always appreciated <3 LOVE U GUYS AND LOVE ART CLASS SUNGHO 🙂‍↕️

[darlingchronicles]

Oh, Schroeder...

pairing: jj x fem!pianist!reader

summary: a piano prodigy had captured the eye of jj ever since they were young, but their friendship is constantly up and down. she claims she's interested in piano and piano only, but (un) fortunately the heart wants what it wants.

word count: 18.8k (tad of a slow burn)

content warnings: drinking & drug use, angst if you squint, cursing, crying, miscommunication-ish, reader being kinda cold, anxiety, "original songs" are mainly by Taylor Swift, all songs linked

loosely inspired by Charlie Brown's "Schroeder and Lucy" 

Enjoy!

"OH, SCHRODER!"

The girl had barely sat down. Her sheet music wasn't on the music desk. Her favorite ballpoint pen hadn't been laid in front of it, ensuring the AC didn't blow the pages. Her fingers hadn't been cracked or stretched out. Her iced matcha with almond milk hadn't even begun to condense.

She let out a sigh.

Beginning piano at just two years old had certainly captured much attention of the young girl and as she grew, she adapted to the name of "prodigy" that had been placed on her. With that name, she had gotten everything from people who wanted to see her "succeed" or at least appear to care about her in order to up their appearances. Everything from a brand new piano to music classes with composers and pianists from Juilliard and entry to every performance she wanted to see was given into the palm of her hand.

Everything.

Including two free periods at the beginning and at the end of her school day in the music room in order to practice. She had barely brought up the suggestion to the Board of Education of Kildare, the ones receiving paychecks from the government because of her interest in the arts and was the reason for funding in the school, and she already had a cleared out schedule in her hands.

The room was to be spotless and cleared out for her.

And only her.

And yet that didn't stop people from disturbing her.

"Yes, Maybank?" She said refraining from calling him "Lucy", but a minor laugh made its way to the end.

It wasn't even nine in the morning. She was surprised he was up that early as he spends most of his time in art sleeping in the back. Not that she takes notice or anything. She's at the table next to him and he snores a little. And it wasn't like she could ignore him - not like they were friends, but they weren't enemies.

Frenemies.

"Aw shucks, how'd you know it was me?" He jogged up the steps onto the miniature stage that was implemented in the music room.

"Well no one else bothers like you do in the morning. So," She slammed down her sheet music on the top of the piano, letting the sound echo before replying with a sarcastic smile, "lucky guess."

"Didn't know I was so important to you." JJ leaned against her piano, crossing his ankles and his arms. She wanted to whack his backwards hat off his head.

"Believe me, you aren't. And now you are just bothering." She huffed, placing everything in order before massaging her hands. When she noticed that he stayed put, like always, she rolled her eyes, "Don't you have algebra right now or something?"

"Something." He shrugged.

He always did this. He always came in, unannounced, and tried talking her up and distracting her. She'd understand if he was trying to get out of class or just wanted a quiet place to do his homework or escape a few teachers (she'd done the same herself) but he purposefully came in to talk to her. Sometimes she enjoyed the company to fill in the moments of isolation. Sometimes she was more annoyed at it when she needed to work. Such as that particular day.

And no pointed finger at the door, no retort or comment on how he was bothering her, and not even a threat to complain to the Principal about his intrusion scared him away. If anything, it only caused him to come around more often. If he wasn't there her first period, he was there her second. If he didn't show up in the morning, believe that he will be there in the afternoon for her final two periods. He'd chew gum loudly, blow on the trumpets to try and get her to mess up her piece or make paper airplanes of sheet music lying around and throw them around the room.

And she needed to work that day, so only God knew what he was going to do to distract her that day.

Once he'd even had the audacity to climb on the piano and lay on it. He had done it once and only once because that was the day that she actually coaxed him off the piano with a sweet smile and eyes before grabbing onto his shirt and dragging him out of the room and told him that if he did it again she'd personally see to it that he's stuffed into the piano and left there for the weekend before slamming the door in his face.

He still came back the next day, still bothering, but sitting on the floor this time.

She narrowed her eyes at him as he tapped the sleek black with his index figure. He took note of her silence before following her eyes to his finger and his posture against her instrument, silently chuckling before stepping away with his hands in the air.

"Don't shoot me."

"Believe me, I stop myself every single day." He winked at her, shiny eyes looking at her, and she could only roll her eyes and place her hands on the keys, "Don't bother me and I won't drag you out of here again. I need to actually practice today."

Oh she needed to practice. Her recital at the Kennedy Center was her top priority. She couldn't deviate from her plans to practice.

"Yes ma'am."

Another roll of her eyes (maybe the apples of her cheeks heated up, but she'd never admit or check that) and she began to play. Her warm up always consisted of three songs - one from a classical composer, another from a movie and the final is a popular song that she converted into a ballad. Every musician, athlete and gambler she knew had a system and this was hers - the number three. Three warm-ups to get her started for the day.

That particular day, she chose Beethoven's Piano Sonata No.14 in C-Sharp Minor, which she had claimed to be one of her favorite pieces to play. She found it soothing although the song did sound daunting to the common ear. The notes were smooth and crisp to her ears that she had played it nearly every time she had to perform. The music so raw and emotional.

"Why do you play depressing songs? I thought pianists were supposed to be lighthearted." His voice cut through her piece halfway through, making her miss a note. She continued, ignoring the blond boy, "Then again, you're uptight enough that I'm not surprised by your music selection. Do you ever play rock music on that thing? Maybe some Fleetwood Mac or Meta-"

She stopped playing abruptly and turned her head, noticing that he was laying on the floor near the edge of the stage, only a couple inches from her, "Beethoven is one of the greatest composers to ever exist." She hissed, not feeling friendly at the moment he insulted one of her favorite composers, "His music changed people's perception on what music can be. Unpredictable and emotional." She saw red for a moment, "Do you ever hear yourself and think "I should shut up" when you don't know something? Hmmm?"

He looked up at the ceiling in false thought before shaking his head, "So that's a no to both our questions."

She almost smiled, but only deadpanned, "I should lock you out."

"Oh you see, but you've tried that already." He threw up his hands in the air, "Just can't keep a jailbird out."

"Oh this is a cell?" She hummed. You would know what a cell is, don't you?

"For you, yeah." He shrugged, looking around for second before whistling lowly like he always did, "But hey, what a girl wants what a girl wants. I can't explain your mind to you."

"It's not a cell, now shut up." She snapped at him before turning back to her keys.

Taking it that she wasn't going to get far with Beethoven, she turned to her second soundtrack. She let her keys play the beginning notes to Mia and Sebastian's Theme, a song she had fallen in love with however heartbroken she had been at the end of the movie. She had seen the film with her best friend friend, Sarah, and hadn't noticed a tick she had until Sarah pointed it out. She had been pressing her fingers down on her knees as if she was playing the song in real time.

As the song came to its fast crescendo and decrescendo, a snap of fingers hit her ears.

"See now that's all lovey dovey and heartaching-y and I don't know if you're trying to foreshadow anything, but maybe don't play the ending to that."

"Do you even understand what foreshadowing means?"

"Not in the slightest sense." He smiled brightly before laying down on the floor with his arm as a pillow. "I'm bored with all this slow music."

"Oh, am I boring you?" She grumbled, pulling out her third set of sheet music, hoping to not get interrupted. He's usually tolerable when it came to his unwarranted visits, but today, she was neither interested in his jokes or his presence and he seemed to feed off of it. Her recital was in June.

It was nearing the end of May and the clock was only ticking.

"Oh you? Never. Maybe your depressing music, but never you. Your voice is music to my ears."

"Once more," She sighed, "Shut. Up."

She didn't wait for a reply and began playing her final warm-up song. Her pop songs usually came from Sarah, who had challenged her to play something she usually wouldn't. Sarah had chosen Shawn Mendez's In My Blood, and surprisingly she enjoyed it. Especially the chorus. Her fingers flew back and forth, playing both the melody and the "lyrics" portion. She had almost made it to the end when the sound of a can opening brought her out of her trance. She accidentally hit the keys hard on her unfinished notes and whipped her head to the boy on the floor. He wasn't looking at her, only drinking from a can of Monster before glancing at her hardened state and her whiten knuckles.

"I didn't say anything."

◇ ◇ ◇

Many believed because she was a piano prodigy that she had nothing else she wanted to do. And you'd be right. There was nothing else for her that she wanted to do. Not a single thing as she grew up. Everything revolved around her talent - natural, God given, incredible and undeniable talent. If it were art or soccer or anything, but an instrument, she would have been treated equally with a bit more praise than others.

But piano was an instrument that took years to master and it didn't help that she was a girl. A girl with much smaller hands than those of grown men who played at the same level of her, if not lower. Piano was not kind to those with smaller hands and she learned it the hard way. She always had to reach and strain her fingers in order to play smoothly. Her skin tore, became sore and she had consistent nights with ice on her tan skin.

Because of it, every adult gave her special treatment. She was a one of a kind pianist. She picked up on notes perfectly - she had perfect pitch. She learned songs in only a few hours, even the most complex ones - she had a solid memory bank for music. She never complained about her hands being sore or being tired of playing - she was resilient. She was a young girl from the Cut with a talent that would bring her out of the depths of poverty - she was given a gift.

Praise came to her from every direction ever since she was young. And it worked to her advantage. From a young age, she was invited and paid to play at recitals on the main land, eventually growing to paid trips to play with a group of equally gifted children and orchestras. She got to know people and use their connections to make other connections in order to create opportunities for her and her family.

She loved piano and it loved her back as it created opportunities for her to grow. However, every gift has a cost and one has to be willing to pay it.

For her, it was the payment of isolation.

Through her traveling since she was five and her constant hyper fixation on what could bring her from the bottom to the top, she skipped out on what being a kid really means. Fooling around with friends never came. Going to the movies and watching back to back movies never arrived in time. Creating lifelong friendships never had it's destination called.

The piano prodigy never built friendships and soon decided she couldn't have them.

The few times that she did try and create them, she was met with peculiar stares and judgmental glares. No one truly knew her, so why should they let her get to know them? Those from the Cut became jealous that she had a one-way ticket to Figure Eight and those from Figure Eight only saw a girl from the Cut who got lucky enough to climb up the social ladder, but she'd always be from the other side of town. She had her foot in both worlds, but was rejected from both.

Too much of a pogue to belong on Figure Eight and too much of a rising-kook to belong on the Cut.

Sure she had a few people who she'd say hi to, share the homework with, sit in class with, text to see how they're doing and happy birthday to, but never anyone to truly fit in with.

That was until she met Sarah.

Sarah Cameron was a kook. She was one of the kookiest-kooks that the prodigy ever got to know, but she soon took the title as best friend. The day they met was when they were thirteen - around eight to nine years after she began performing on Figure Eight for charity events and some other events that could be related to Midsummers. She had just played and decided to go hide in the hallways of the country club so that no one would bombard her. Her mom was off chatting with some adult that would hire her to play for a private party. She was enjoying the new-found life that she was being provided by her thirteen year old daughter. The prodigy couldn't blame her - with the money she was earning and even with the amount taken to be put into her savings account, they were on track to move to Figure Eight by the time she's seventeen.

And just as she had sat down, there was the sound of footsteps hitting the floor. Hard. As if they were running. She turned her head and saw a girl, around her age, who came dashing down the hall, grabbing the prodigy's hand, pulling her down the hall with her. She had no clue what was going on, but she ran. As they dodged party goers in the lower level hallways and staircase, she found herself laughing with the dirty blonde girl.

Soon they were near the beach and laid flat on the sand. Their breaths were hard and rapid, but laughs soon came out. Her name was Sarah Cameron and she had been running from her older brother, Rafe, because she had messed with his hair one too many times that day. Thankfully, he stopped chasing the moment she had pulled the prodigy up from the floor and with her. After that, the two girls chatted on the beach. Although she didn't know much about gossip, people or fashion choices, Sarah was friendly, open and accepting of the piano prodigy.

She even wanted to know what it was like being a piano prodigy at such as young age. Sarah said it sounded lonely and for once, she brought herself to agree with her.

And after that Sarah decided that her new friend would never be alone again.

Skip three years later and the two sat together by the pool on a Saturday afternoon, the sun going down earlier than usual, and listened to each other. Unfortunately the money that had been and was being collected by her recitals wasn't enough for her to go to the Kook Academy, so she went to the general high school, away from Sarah. With their school work and outside hangouts and recitals, they only hung out in person every weekend and the occasional weekday, but they were always texting and facetiming.

And there was something constant in all of their calls since they began high school.

She huffed, kicking the water, "All the time. He always has be in that room, opening a can, commenting on my song selection, making paper airplanes and throwing them around the room or talking his ass off. I can't stand him sometimes."

"So I've heard." Sarah chuckled. "I can't believe he hasn't given up yet. It's what? Almost junior year?"

"Yeah." The pianist grumbled, "And nothing I do gets him to leave when I need him. Yesterday, he told me my song choice was depressing and boring. Beethoven is one of the greatest composers to ever exist. I should have thrown him out of the music room the moment he said that. Heck! My middle name is Elise, like Fur Elise. Beethoven's music is phenomenal. What does he know about classical music?"

Sarah almost laughed, "Nothing. Trust me. He listens to music with John B when they're fixing up the Druthers. It's all rock, rap and old school music like Fleetwood Mac or Billy Idol." She grabbed her cup of soda from her side, "Why don't you just tell on him or something?"

"Tried that." She admitted, "Freshman year. He got detention and came back with even more fervor than before. It's like it fueled him to be even more annoying. After that, I just decided to not add fuel to the flame." Part of that was true.

Maybe she liked him around sometimes.

"Well there is the other theory."

The girl's head whipped in the blonde's direction, "You're still on that?"

She shrugged, "Hey, it's classic textbook for boys. Annoy the person you like in order to get their attention. It may be unwarranted and may have undesirable outcomes, but hey, they get your eyes on them." She tapped her best friend's shoulder, "And JJ is a person who likes attention, especially from girls. You go against that. You focus on your work and work only."

"Yeah well," She grabbed Sarah's cup, taking a sip, "he's not gonna get it from me. That's for sure. I'll just lock the door again." She handed back the cup, "And on an unrelated note, I have my recital next month and I need you to RSV-"

"Done."

"Great. I'm still trying to decide on a few songs. I know I'm going to play a piece from Beethoven, but they've been telling me that original pieces would attract more of an audience. They're trying to get me more into originals than ever now. I have a few, but I'm not so sure. I'll send you some pieces for some feedback. I also need an outfit-"

Sarah listened to her best friend chatter about her recital. It would be on the mainland and it'd be one of her biggest yet. And while she was happy for her, her mind wandered back to JJ Maybank's constant desire for attention. Even if she didn't admit it, she knew that her friend liked the attention she got from the boy. If she really didn't want him around, she would have already found a way to keep him away. She would have gotten him suspended or had his schedule changed so that they never crossed paths again. Maybe the attention did annoy her at some moments, especially, when she needed to practice, but during their art and history classes (which they had together) she didn't seem to mind it, due to her lack of complaining. If Sarah knew it, she knew that JJ definitely knew it too. And maybe that was why he kept going. She never truly pushed him away, more so keeping him on a thin line that he couldn't push forward. Like a piece of music that she had written down, but never played.

If anything, Sarah suspected that it wasn't only JJ who had a crush.

But that was just her opinion.

And Sarah Cameron was usually right.

She may have been right this time.

◇ ◇ ◇

Another week, another tug of war game between the pianist and surfer boy. It was a beautiful spring, almost summer, morning - school was almost at its end and she was dying for school to end. No more distractions. More time to rehearse for her recital. It was the next month, as she had told Sarah, but she was getting more jittery as the days passed. According to her manager, Margie, this was going to be her highest paying recital yet. More of an audience. More expectations. And the more she got, the more popular she became. She was already being recognized nationwide and they wanted to extend it internationally. Margie was trying to get some British, French and Spanish reps to come and if they did, it could extend an invitation to come schools with scholarships - just as Juilliard did - and maybe paid trips to perform. Even if they didn't, people from California and New York were coming down to see her perform solo. It was only a fifteen minute time slot at the end, but her body was beginning to recognize how much she needed to succeed and she felt her anxiety levels beginning to rise.

And JJ Maybank interruptions were not helping. And his last comment on her music taste and his song suggestion (a song by Alt J?) actually had her consider throwing him out of the room. He wasn't particularly annoying at first, but then again it was JJ.

His attention be damned if she messed up her recital, her biggest paying one yet.

And although she could have rebutted, she didn't. There always was a pull that told her to fight, to reply and give him the reaction he wanted. It was as if they were magnets and she was either pushing and he was pulling or she was north and he was south. To forces fighting to land on top.

But she had to let it go for now.

Instead, she put away her stack of warm-up sheet music on her red folder. Red was for warm-ups, green was for classical, blue was for originals, orange for everything else and purple was for recital practice. She decided on blue because Margie kept telling her that originality sells along. That and classical music. Plus it was like writing whatever she wanted.

And a little secret of her own, she liked to sing. And she could actually do it too. But not in front of people. No way. She could play piano and let people focus on the music, while looking around the room or silently speaking, but if she sang, eyes would be on her immediately. So singing was off the table, but she found that writing lyrics that went along with music helped her write better and quicker. She'd sing in her head while playing.

She had multiple songs lined up, but she found herself focusing on one she had titled Champagne Problems. Her entire idea was based on the idea of a failed proposal and admittance that it was her fault - kind of reverse of what one would usually hear. No failed marriage. Just a failed proposal. She had some lyrics written down, but not a full song.

She played for a few moments before writing a few notes down and repeating the process for a full ten minutes. She hadn't noticed, but she had begun to hum and sing lightly under her breath. She especially liked the chorus, but she found it repetitive. Without lyrics, it wouldn't be as interesting.

Maybe I should cut it short. Just the chorus and the bridge. Short like a rejected proposal.

"What song was that?" Her ears perked up to JJ's voice, which was filled with curiosity.

Her response was instantaneous, "One you don't know."

"Nice." He quipped, turning towards her, pulling his knees into his chest, watching as she pushed a piece of hair behind her.

Surprisingly, JJ didn't speak anymore, but instead let the pianist write and mess around with her instrument. He didn't feel the need to interrupt nor did he want to interrupt. She was so concentrated. Her bottom lip was captured by her top teeth, signaling her fixation on what she doing.

"Damn it." She mumbled. It's definitely too repetitive. Maybe changin- but that wouldn't work. Would it?

"What?"

She glanced down to the boy, who was watching her, "Nothing. Just trying to figure out how to make my song less repetitive."

"You wrote a song?"

She paused her writing.

Okay, one thing to note about the pianist and JJ was that they actually talked a lot in person. Sometimes online whenever she posted on her story something about her recitals or she'd post herself playing the piano in some grand room or opera house and he'd comment or reply with some joke or quip about her getting famous or something of the sort that she'd reply back with a sarcastic or lighthearted joke. And they were frenemies (as she deemed it, she didn't know what JJ thought) but she didn't think she could trust him with something that personal, something so close to her that only few people knew. He'd probably just think it was stupid writing songs that she didn't even sing outloud.

"No." She mumbled and tried to swallow the fear that was beginning to form in her stomach.

"Huh."

"What?" She glared.

"Nothing." He shook his head, grabbing his phone and his backpack. He stood for a moment, the two of them staring at each other for a moment. Neither of them looked away and it was almost as if neither wanted to. She felt her heart quicken, mistaking it for a feeling she was all too common with, before the she looked away. "Nothing." He repeated, "Nothing, just...sounded good."

The pianist didn't say anything, only watched as he left the room, like he usually did around that time, but she felt something else biting her stomach. He was able to leave the room, glancing back at her only to see her eyes planted on him and not on the piano as she usually did.

He grinned, seeing her curiosity about his response. He winked and headed out the door.

And it was about ten minutes later when she looked back at the now closed door when she mumbled, "Thank you."

◇ ◇ ◇

As the weather turned from spring to summer, the heat came as strong as it could. The chill spring wind was being replaced with the humid Kildare summer air. Unfortunately, the Cut was victim to it as ACs didn't work, fans were old and opening windows wasn't an option most times. And you can't just go swimming in the marsh or driving to the beach at two in the morning because you're sweating in a tank top and shorts in your bed. Due to this revelation, the pianist tried to visit Sarah more often during these times - the rich loved their air conditioned homes and boats. And it was the day after her and JJ's strange moment that school was called out because t was unable to hold students due to the heatwave coming through.

Free day for the Kildare High School students.

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for Sarah as her school had enough funding to hold over fifty ACs in the school 24 hours a day, seven days a week. However, when she woke up drenched in sweat and in desperate need to practice in a comfortable area, Sarah offered her home. Neither she, her dad, Rose, Wheezie or Rafe, who was a Senior at the prep school, would be there, but Ward Cameron welcomed the pianist into their home constantly and agreed to let her come by that day and any day she needed.

The only issue was getting there in the first place.

She had to walk due to her mom taking the car to work and couldn't call her to come get her. While they had money due to her accomplishments, there was always something happening. Either the AC wasn't working, a light went out, or anything else that happened, they had to be prepared. Always vigilante. Always checking off boxes twice.

So she had to brave the elements.

She put on a blue sports bra and white button up over it (keeping it unbutton of course) and jean shorts that were loose enough that it wouldn't bother her while walking. She grabbed her bag, remembering putting extra clothes, knowing she'd get cold in the chilled house before running out.

She hadn't made it to the bridge that separated the Cut from Figure Eight and she was drenched in sweat. Her hair was up, water nearly gone and her white button up would have been thrown into the backpack if it wasn't her only protection from the sun's devious rays. She was melting.

"Someone save me, please." She choked out, trudging through the heat. "Only you, Kildare. Only you."

A high pitched whistle hit her ears with a bang. The girl jumped back, only to see her blond boy in a van and not some stranger ready to kidnap her, "I would ask if you're delusional, but I think I have my answer."

"Jeez!" She put a hand on her heart, "You scared the crap out of me. Don't do that!"

"I can see that." He chuckled, driving slowly on the abandoned road, "What I can't see is why the hell you're out here in this heat. We're in a heatwave." He took the hat he had off his head and plotted it on her head.

She would have hit him with some sarcastic retort and tore off his hat from her head that gave her much relief, but she had no energy for it, "I need to practice. My house is crap. Heading for the Cameron's." She wiped her forehead, feeling agitated by the sweaty hair sticking to the nape of her neck. "Why are you out?"

"It's hot, sunny and the waves are perfect according to the report." JJ looked forward for a second before saying, "Get in."

"What?" She choked out, but it was out of confusion, not suspicion as it would have been if she was cognate with her mind.

"Get in." He repeated, "I'll drop you off nearby. I'm getting John B from a house job anyways."

Once it registered in her mind, she didn't reject the offer. She ran to the other side and jumped into the passenger's seat of the van, "Thank you." She wheezed out, leaning back in the seat the moment she buckled up.

"No problem." She thinks she heard him chuckle, but she couldn't be so sure at the moment.

They drove with the windows down and the breeze did miracles with her pending state. Five minutes into the drive, she was wide awake and conscious. She finished up her water and leaned back as she watched the Cut pass by. She, then, turned to JJ, and immediately noticed that he was shirtless.

Glistening tan and freckled skin with muscles flexing with every breath and spark of movement.

She shouldn't have stared for as long as she did and if you asked her about it, she'd deny it. But hell, she couldn't deny that he was attractive. With or without a shirt, but at that moment, his shirtless state was definitely affecting her more at the moment. She'd hadn't denied it in her mind that her annoying fucker that liked to interrupt practice sessions was attractive - fuck it, he was hot - but now that she was face to face with one of his attractive aspects mixed with the delusion of the heat...all rational thought was gone.

"So I was thinking." He turned his head and she pulled her face together as if she wasn't ogling him.

She snapped back into her sarcastic tone, "You do that? Never would have guessed."

"And I was thinking you could expand your music taste." He ignored her tone, "There's a whole world out there that isn't classical music that could apply to your piano playing."

"Really? This again?" She groaned. "Sorry that I'm not into whatever the heck you listen to. Piano playing is delicate, but strong in its chords."

"I have no idea what that means, but you could totally change your mojo." He replied as if he believed in what he was saying.

"I play classical and the occasional movie score. Okay?" She quipped, rolling her eyes, "It's what people want to hear. Not Metallica or Red Hot Chili Peppers."

"Nah, people want to hear music. Something with soul and meaning behind it. Not just instruments." He explained, "Do you even like what you play?"

"Of course I like what I play." The half-truth slipped out with ease, "And even if I didn't, I don't get paid to play what I like."

"But you could." He pointed out.

"No, I couldn't. When you get hired for a job, you do the job or else you get fired. I'm pretty sure you understand that."

"You don't get it." He turned up the radio. An upbeat song was playing. Michael Jackson. "If you were able to convert songs like these onto the piano, you'd have a bigger audience. I promise you that and Papa J never fails in his assumptions."

She thought for a moment, ignoring the fact that he called himself "Papa J". If she was able to convert those songs into piano themes, she would have a bigger audience. But it's not easy. There's so much practice that goes into doing things like putting Beat It into piano formation. It's not impossible, but it'd be difficult. Out of his mind, but...he wasn't wrong.

"C'mon! What'd it take you to do it?"

"Answer a question for me."

"Shoot."

"Why do you keep come into the music room to bother me? You've been extra annoying lately." Bingo. He'd never give into the question. "You tell me that, truthfully, and I'll convert any song you want into a piano ballad or something."

His eyes narrowed. JJ wasn't a guy to open up about his feelings or about the reasons he did things. He usually just did it and then thought about it later if he even thought about it again. He's impulsive. Never has a reason for anything.

"Gets me out of homeroom."

"I said truthfully." Her voice took a playful tone, which caused JJ's eyebrow to lift up, "You skip either way."

"I don't know. I never really thought about it." He shrugged. "I guess..." He shifted again. He was uncomfortable. She could see it as clear as day, "You're easy to be around."

He didn't say more.

She blinked, not able to find the confident nature she had only moments ago. He didn't answer her question correctly, but it caught her attention. She was easy to be around? Lately, she constantly glared at him, told him to shut up, and dragged him out of the room once. She wouldn't consider herself "easy" to be around even when she wasn't doing any of those things. Especially in the music room. She was her most uptight in those moments. She didn't care who she hurt as long as she got her work done. Her target was mainly JJ - and now thinking about it, she felt bad. Yes, he annoyed her, but she felt shameful of her behavior.

"Easy?" She scoffed, "I wouldn't call myself easy."

He clicked his tongue, "That's my fault." He admitted, "You're easy to get to when you're working."

"So you admit that you do it on purpose?" They stopped at a stoplight and he turned to look at her. And she knew. She just knew that he did. She also knew by his expression that he was getting a kick out of her just figuring it out, "You little shit."

"Glad to know you just picked up on that." He teased and she almost had the decency to push him out of the car, "Now what song to pick."

"You don't get a song."

"What?"

"You lied to me first."

"Oh come on!" He complained, hitting the gas again when the light turned green. "You can't take that back. I get a song."

She couldn't get over the fact that he was whining about getting a song played by her. He looked kinda cute actually.

"Fine!" She rolled her eyes. "You get one song, any song, as long as you keep your bothering to a minimum and I'm talking the most JJ minimum you can give me. Deal?" She held out her pinkie.

"Really?" He asked, almost missing how she used his name for the first time, and she nodded with a confidence that should have been hilarious in any other situation. "Deal." He wrapped his pinkie around hers. "Original."

"What artist is that by?"

"You."

She paused and deadpanned, "I don't write songs."

"Look who's lying now. You said any song, therefore I get a song by you. I already have a name for it." He put his hand out in front and moved it across the air, " "The Ballad of JJ". Upbeat. Nothing fancy. Something like Bohemian Rhapsody."

She shook her head, "Do you even know what a ballad is?"

"Sounds cool. So, why not?"

This kid will actually kill me.

"Fine. You win. "The Ballad of JJ" it is." And he smiled like he won a million dollars.

He dropped her off at the front of the house, watching her disappear into the house with his hat still attached to her head. And while she did practice, she allowed herself to begin to write for the blond boy, who wasn't so annoying today.

Or really any day.

Not that it mattered.

Right?

◇ ◇ ◇

What JJ had said bothered her.

A new audience.

She scoffed.

Based on ratings and statistics, people enjoyed classical music over anything else. Covers of pop or rock songs didn't fit the mold nor did they get high ratings. Maybe on youtube they did, but not for live concerts.

And it was like he was challenging her. Challenging her to try something new. As if she was afraid to do it. She scoffed at the thought.

Afraid?

She wasn't afraid.

She'd show him.

◇ ◇ ◇

"That was excellent!" Margie Jones clapped her hands. "Truly wonderful. I have no words other than magnificent."

Her mother joined in, "I've never heard you play something that energetic before. It's mostly mellow. Is it original?"

She nodded proudly, "Yes, it is. Got some inspiration. It's not fully done, but it's getting there."

"What's it called?" Margie asked, pulling out some files, but still with a wide grin.

She opened her mouth to reply, but the words couldn't come out. Her one piece of music that was the light of her mother and Margie's life at the moment was orchestrated because a boy had her write it. Not just any boy. JJ Maybank. Her annoying (ex-annoying) music room bother. It wasn't exactly The Ballad of JJ, just an alternate verison of it (she felt like it was personal to the point that only the two of them could hear the original),but it was similar enough to be connected to the song titled in her blue folder with his name. However, she couldn't have it leave her mouth. Weird.

"Oh, I don't know yet. Like I said, it's just coming to me in pieces, so I'll figure it out in a bit. It's just one of my originals."

"Excellent." She nodded, "More originals open more doors for your solo career without any orchestra or becoming back up for a band. More money for us." She clapped her hands, "And this is good because I got news that the scouts from France and the United Kingdom are coming."

She gasped and stood up, "Really?"

"Yes and because of this, you'll be performing for a longer bracket. I talked to the managers and everyone I needed to and they agreed that instead of a fifteen minute time slot that you'll take on an hour time slot. Thirty minutes for the first half, a ten minute break, and then your final thirty minutes. With this you'll have to do a setlist that I'll need by next Friday. We only have three more weeks."

Her heart dropped.

Her mother clapped her hands, "Wonderful. How about the pay?"

"Because she's bringing in the scouts for the entire program, not just the orchestra part, I negotiated for her to get triple for her section plus her original fee for her part in the orchestra."

As Margie and her mother spoke, they hardly noticed the sixteen year old girl sitting on the seat by the piano, turning pale by the moment. She had never done anything more than twenty minutes straight of playing. Now she has to do an hour with a set list and most likely originals that she had never tested before. Plus the orchestra. That would be two hours of straight playing.

She didn't know if she wanted to do it.

She was a performer. She had played in front of a hundred people before, but this was a concert hall in Washington D.C. Hundreds of people and staff. Now scouts for her future in music. For more time than she had been used to. With original music she had never tested. She was performer, it was her job.

But they hadn't asked her if that was what she wanted.

Her breath felt heavy and her chest began to heave. Her body didn't feel in control of anything. She hardly said anything as she excused herself to the bathroom. She closed her eyes as she slid down the luxurious bathroom wall and tried to level her breathing. She flexed her hands back and forth, trying to stop the shaking.

She was a performer. She had to do this. She had to do more. She had to take the job. She couldn't say no. She was a performer. Performing was what she did. It was her job. Her future. She couldn't say no. She had to for the money. A better life. More for her mother. More for her. She couldn't say no.

But she really really wanted to.

◇ ◇ ◇

That weekend, she stayed as close to Sarah as she could. Distracting herself from the reality that she would have to do something that was holding her heart down. She didn't understand it. So she ignored it.

A tale as old as time.

Sarah sensed something wrong, but didn't say anything. She knew she'd come around eventually and she'd give her space until then. So, she suggested that they go to the beach and get acai bowls at the Playa Bowls nearby.

The two girls walked arm in arm and got their bowls and sat by the docks, watching early tourons and kooks and pogues alike spend their Saturday with their friends or family. From the docks, she watched people surf on the waves as if it was second nature.

She didn't know how to surf - another downside of piano being your life - but she liked watching it. She found it interesting how people were able to move their bodies in a way that allowed them to move with the ocean's ripples. She believed it was similar to how her fingers meshed with the keys of a piano and became one with the instrument. However, that was only one part of her body. Surfing was control over the entire body to not go flailing around. She admired the people who could do it.

Sarah chatted to her as she nodded along and allowed her to speak. She felt like she was in 2nd grade again when she hardly ever spoke. She only spoke when she had something she needed to say, but no coaxing would get her to open her mouth. It wasn't until around middle school that she started speaking full sentences to people. Even then, she was only chatty around people she was comfortable around such as Sarah Cameron or her mother. And she only wanted to listen that day anyways.

And as she watched the waves, she noticed one person surfing as if his life depended on it. Flips and turns and going through waves and making it to the end. She began to observe him up until he came up to the beach. That was when she noted who it was.

She turned her head before he could spot her, but she heard a classic high pitched whistle. She turned back and noticed JJ, staring right at her with his hand lifted in a hello. She couldn't help, but smile and wave. His friends, who she recognized as John B and Pope Heyward, turned to her as they began to nudge JJ around, teasing him. He swatted them away.

A nudged on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned to Sarah.

"What?" She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Oh Schroder." She teased, "Don't leave Lucy hanging by the piano all day."

"What are you on about?"

"Gonna play dumb? Okay, Schroder, I'll play Linus." She put her finger up, closing her eyes as if she were the comic character, "'No problem is so big or so complicated that you have to run away from it.'" She opened her eyes, "Running away isn't the answer even if you think it's yours. I should know. I do it a lot."

"I'm not running away." She took another bite from her bowl. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Okay." She hummed, "But don't be surprised when Lucy decides to stop waiting by the piano and goes out to become a psychiatrist that you meet in twenty years wondering "what if"."

"What in the actual hell are we talking about now?"

◇ ◇ ◇

She didn't hear her alarm. Two weeks had flown past her like sand falling out of her dry hand and she had been pushing herself everyday to practice playing nonstop. Finishing a handful of originals and practicing complex songs that made her hands cramp from how much she pushed. Staying up late nights was all too common for her. Missing her bus and a ride from her mom was not.

Everyone looked up at her when she entered the door. She feels like she came to school with no pants and mix and match shoes by the way everyone looks at her. Miss Prodigy is never late, never tardy, never disheveled, never not perfect. This was a sight: her hair was brushed, but was covered by a red hat, the bags under her eyes could carry bricks, her shirt collar was half up, her socks were different colors and her shoe laces were untied.

"Sorry." She mumbled to her history professor, handing the pass that the office lady had signed with the same amount of shock.

She walked to her seat and sat down, taking out her textbook and notebook. The shock had passed and whispers ensued as the class continued. She noticed the stares, but she just fixed her collar and payed attention to the lesson. It wasn't as if the other ten of them didn't come in late every other day in worse conditions.

From behind her, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned slightly to her left and saw JJ quickly passing a note to her. He sat in the next row but two seats behind her. She grabbed it and turned back around before opening it discreetly.

Didn't know prodigies came in late. Sounds like a crime. You look like crap also.

She scoffed lightly before grabbing her pen and scribbling down her response before tossing it over without so much as a whisper. And it just kept getting passed back and forth.

You sure do think of me a lot to know it's a crime. And yeah I know I look like crap. Thanks, Lucy Shit I didn't mean it like that. Like you look tired. You know like the little alien in Lilo and Stich? I have so many questions, but do you mean Stitch? I know I'm shorter than you, but you don't have to stoop to that level. You just called me Lucy from the fuckin Peanuts comics so I think it's fair game You've called me "Schroeder" since freshmen year. I think it's bound time I respond correctly. I've been scattered brained lately. Can't remember to hold my tongue. Oops Or wear your own clothes. Nice hat. Where'd you get it?

She touched her head, pulling down the hat that she had grabbed from her desk only to realize who's it was. She heard him chuckle behind her and she put up the bird in the air, waving it in his direction, not daring to look at him.

The bell rang within the next ten seconds, signaling for her next period, which she knew she was going to skip. She packed up her items and before she could head for the door, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Truly amazing fashion choice. You get it at a boutique or something?"

"Ha ha. Very funny." She rolled her eyes, "I would give it back to you, but my hair did not cooperate this morning so I will be keeping it at the moment."

"Looks good on you. Not better than me, but close enough." He said as they walked out of class together.

It was a stupid compliment, and he was teasing her, but she still felt the apples of her cheeks begin to burn and she rolled her eyes, shoving him slightly with her shoulder, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get to class."

"We both have art next." He pointed out with his thumb at the classroom door.

"Not me." She sang before heading down the hall to the stairs towards the first floor. The sound of hard boots followed her, "Class, Maybank."

"I'm good." He shrugged, "Where we going?"

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't command him away. In fact, she couldn't bring herself to even if she needed him gone. Something about his presence lately had been calming to her, even if he was as calm as a hurricane. She'd felt in the car the previous week, when she saw him at the beach that weekend and even now as her anxiety began to peak for being late.

He made her feel like everything would actually be alright. (It confused her for a moment before she shook it off).

"Music room. I need to practice." She said, taking a moment to yawn. She covered her mouth, "A lot of practice."

"You keep saying that. What the hell's got so much of your attention?" She noticed his tone, but kept her observation to herself.

"Recital. Big one."

"And?"

She sighed, "Recitals make me money. I get a lot from it. I play with the Virginia Orchestra and they have their annual recital event. Because I'm part of it, a lot of people come. Some from New York. Others from Los Angeles and other places. It's a big deal." She pulled the music room key out of her pocket, "I got news that some scouts from Europe are coming to see me. It's next week, so pressure's on."

"That's amazing." He complimented as she swung the door open.

"Thank you." She shrugged as she headed for the stage, "It's just that I have a bigger time slot now so-" She didn't finish her sentence as she dropped her bag and began to pull out her blue folder.

"You don't seem so happy about it." He grabbed a chair that was on the stage already and pulled it so it was right next to her. "Don't you like playing?"

She nodded, "I do. It's everything to me." She pulled out her pens, "I just never played for two hours straight before. It's new."

"Hours?" He blinked, whistling lowly at the thought of playing piano for hours.

"I play for an hour with the orchestra and then an hour solo." Candor began to spew from her mouth, "I've never played solo for an hour in front of scouts before."

He didn't speak for a moment and she glanced at him. He nodded slowly, as if he began to understand why she was killing herself the past month. Why she stopped joking more and more with him and began to be stricter and cold to him. She was nervous.

"No wonder you've been such a buzzkill." He laughed, "You're anxious."

"I guess," She fiddled with her hands, "I'm not nervous. It's more like a feeling that I can't do it and that I'll disappoint everyone if I'm not shiny enough." She couldn't control her mouth. It just came out. She had told some of it to Sarah, but nothing like she was now, "I'm the main income in my home and now this is paying triple for my set, which could get us closer to getting out of the Cut, but-" She laughed, but it was more pained, "And I would have done it either way, but they never asked me. Just threw it in my face and I think I sound like an ungrateful brat for saying that because these scouts could eventually be my ticket to some great music school or job in the future. I just...wanted to be asked for once." She looked up at JJ, who had gone quiet. She blinked and sat up straight, turning back to her music, "Sorry. I'm ranting."

JJ reached out, hesitantly, but put his hand on her shoulder, "It's okay to be anxious and like so much is on you. It is. You don't have to apologize. And you're the artist. They should have asked you."

She looked at him with appreciation. A thought sparked her mind and she turned to the folder, "Oh, um, I have your song. Well part of it."

"Oh?" He leaned forward, seeing lines and song notes both scribbled and written over. The Ballad of JJ was written at the top of it, "How's it coming?"

"Halfway done. I just need to figure out the ending."

"Play it. The muse needs to know what's being created." She rolled her eyes at him, but complied. She had been able to get through the entire half she had before he spoke again, "I like the whole crashing part."

"The what?"

"The way the playing gets loud and wild, I mean. I don't know how to speak music."

She laughed, "You're a wildcard, Maybank. If it was about you, might as well get loud." He paused, but she hadn't noticed, "Now I'm thinking for it to start off loud and maybe end loudly, but I'm not so sure. Maybe it can mellow out or-"

JJ only nodded, feeling a smile creep up his face. He reached out and pulled his hat, that was on her head, down so that it covered her face. She pushed it back up, shoving his shoulder before smiling and going back to writing music.

And there it was.

Air shifted.

Something was changing.

Maybe their frenemies ways were turning more friendly than they both expected.

◇ ◇ ◇

Within that week, whenever she could, the pianist would sneak off to the music room, hoping to pack more and more time into her playing. And more and more she did, JJ Maybank followed. He'd come in, less distracting than usual after she had told him about the important recital. and sit down next to her on a separate chair or lay on the floor. He would comment here or there, but he left her be for the most part. When she wasn't looking, she could feel him staring at her. She'd then hit him with her foot or glare at him and he'd just laugh and the cycle would repeat.

And then there were moments where she wasn't sure if she should be feeling the way she did.

The moments where time would stand still as they stared at each other. His blue eyes meeting hers and the small smile she'd give him as he brushed his hair out of his eyes and smirk. The moments where she'd take her eyes off her sheet music to stretch her hand and catch JJ's puppy-like eyes following her every move. The moments where she'd pack up and he'd hand her the sheet music and their fingers would touch ever so slightly, making her heart jump a few octaves.

There was one day that week when he brought her a Monster, saying that it'd give her energy like him. She didn't think he needed any energy drink to be the way he was. He was high off of life. She drank it and by the end, she was practically running around the room. The jitters left her and she was just left with the energy rush. She said out loud that it actually helped.

"If you think that's helping, just wait for weed. Bring you right up."

She hadn't been big on drugs or usage because she needed to focus, but she thought that maybe it would be a good idea to try for some creative juices. She held it off until after the recital though. She didn't need some sickness to hit her. She didn't know if weed even caused sickness, but she wasn't going to risk it. The two made plans to smoke together after her recital - weirdly enough she trusted JJ to be the person she smoked with for the first time.

JJ also helped with his ballad. He helped her navigate what he wanted in the song and she was nearing to finish it. (A part of herself was nervous if he would like it).

She didn't know if she should have done it, but had asked Margie was an extra pit ticket. She didn't know why. It was for a friend? She didn't tell JJ.

It was Friday when Sarah decided the pianist could use some fun. She would have rejected the offer, but the recital wasn't until that following Monday. And according to JJ, she deserved a break. So, she (surprisingly) said yes to the kegger that was being thrown on the beach. Sarah had personally taken care of the outfit - a white tube top and colorful skirt that fell to her knees. Sarah dressed similarly in order to have her more comfortable and also because it got desperately hot during the day.

The two girls made their way to the beach by foot and made it around sunset. The girls stayed together the entire night, drinking from cans instead of solo cups, and chatting on pieces of wood. Kooks and pogues alike were there - it wasn't touron season yet, so it was just Kildare kids. No trouble was stirring up, so it was calm as people drank and smoked whatever they had on them before passing it on to their friends. Girls and boys chatted each other up, some couples fought at the farther end of the beach, some made out near the fire that was starting up while others swam in the ocean or sat with their friends.

At some points, people would say hi and boys would come up and chat up the two of them. Sarah was more likely to entertain than the prodigy ever would. She didn't like their dark hair and dark eyes or the way they would try and shoot out jokes. She just watched the ocean, seemingly ignoring them. Soon enough, a kook from Sarah's school - his name was Topper which was weird as hell - and by the way he sat by Sarah, he was there to stay.

"I'm gonna get another drink." She said and Sarah nodded while the boy chatted her up. Sarah nodded and said if anything, she'd come running.

She walked to the coolers, where closed drinks were. She wasn't stupid enough to take from the "punch" bowl or 2 liter soda bottles that had been opened. She neared the coolers, noting that many of them had water in them.

"Hey!" Someone called out her name and she turned her head, seeing John B Routledge calling out to her. She walked over, "What's up, Miss Prodigy?"

Oh he was tipsy. Not fully drunk, but he was getting there based on his loud volume.

"Hey John B." She chuckled slightly. "I'm doing good. How's it going?"

"Not bad, not bad." He raised a tap he had in his hand, "Want one?"

It is closed, she thought. And one isn't bad. Right?

She nodded and John B filled up a red solo cup half way before tossing it over to her. It was mainly foam and however bitter it was, its coldness soothed her.

"So uh, how's you and J?"

"What do you mean?" She wiped her mouth with her wrist and looked at the boy. She gestured for more beer, the coolness had filled her dry throat and warmed her stomach.

"I mean, I'm surprised you were able to tie the man down. He talks nonstop about you as if his life depended on it." He said. She had a feeling that JJ didn't know that he was saying that, "So you two are like-" He put his hands together and before he could continue, she shook her hands.

"Oh, no. Me and J...we're not like that." She chuckled nervously, "J's a good friend, but he doesn'-he would never- I mean you know." She drank more, hoping it would help more. She wasn't stupid to the insinuation, so she looked up, "Umm, does it look like that?"

John B rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly growing nervous, "I mean, yeah. Especially with these last few days. You two are always together at school."

She thought for a second. Maybe...

"Well, I didn't mean to make it awkward or anythi-"

She waved her hand off, "Don't worry about it. Sarah's called him Lucy one too many times for me to not notice." She surprised herself with the candor.

"Lucy?"

"You know. Schroeder and Lucy? The Charlie Brown comics?"

John B laughed loudly, "I can't get that out of my head now. I have a new nickname for him. I can totally see him in the little blue dress, and waving his feet in the air and-" He kept laughing, "Thank you seriously. He won't get me to shut up."

"Glad to be of service. He's annoyed me one too many times." She finished the cup, "Is he here?"

"Uhhh yeah. He's somewhere over by the fire."

"Hmm." She placed the cup in the trash by the tables, "I'll pay Lucy a visit."

"Go get em', Tiger."

She threw a thumbs up and walked closer to the fire.

Okay, she wasn't dumb. She knew what John B was saying and what Sarah was saying with the Lucy comments. She knew how it looked and before it would have inconvenienced her, maybe made her mad, but it didn't. In fact, it excited her. Could it be that JJ liked her? Like really? A boy she may possible totally liked actually liked her back? I mean, she's had boys who liked her before, but they weren't anything like JJ. He was funny, charming, annoying and a total nuisance at times, but she always liked it.

At a kegger in the middle of the night, searching for the boy who had captured her heart, she came to terms with what she had been hiding for over a year.

With a mind that was not sober, in fact tipsy from her lack of consumption in the past, she decided that she'd tell JJ. She'd tell JJ that she was sorry if she ever made him feel unwanted in the music room because she wanted him there. She wanted him to come and annoy her and tell her what he thought of her playing, of her original pieces. She wanted to teach him about Beethoven, Chopin and Brahms and listen to his song recommendations. Maybe he'd teach her how to surf. Maybe he'd want to go to her recital. She had a ticket prepared for him like she had for Sarah. She could play his ballad. She'd tell him how she wanted to him that summer coming up because then she'd get to know more about him - filling her brain with more about him because he made her feel like she wasn't just a prodigy or someone who only played piano. He made her feel like she was human, like she was girl who had more. She'd tell him that she liked him more than just a friend. She'd tell him that she wanted to be with him if he'd have her.

And he had given her all the signs, so she wasn't saying it out of the blue. He had stared at her. Carried her bag. Didn't mind that she still had his hat. Was considerate of her. Made her laugh. It all pointed to one conclusion. Just like Sarah had said. There was one theory as to why he always bothered her and in the middle of the night, during a kegger, with people talking and a fire burning, she decided that it was one she'd consider.

Maybe JJ Maybank liked her. She wouldn't know unless she asked.

But she knew.

The piano prodigy liked JJ Maybank.

And maybe he'd like her too.

She had made it to the fire when she spotted a glimpse of blond hair. Her heart picked up a beat as she came closer, only for it to drop to her stomach when she saw what he was doing. Another girl, who she had known as a pogue and lived on the Southside, was touching his shoulder and he brushed his hand against her hair. He was staring at her like he had stared at her that morning. He leaned forward, saying something in her ear, causing her giggle and shove him a little

It was a tiny thing. Miniscule. She still could have gone up to him and told him and maybe the night's ending would have been different. But it made her blood boil. He had always given her attention, but she hadn't considered that he gave other girls the same attention as well. She had heard about JJ Maybank's notorious history with girls - his endless list of makeout sessions that girls swooned over, his mysterious hookups and his knack for making girls fall to his feet. She hadn't judged him because everyone had their "things" that they did, whether proud or not.

But if she wasn't the only one he was giving attention to, who else was there?

Yes, the green jealousy monster came to haunt her. Maybe it wasn't fair. She hadn't been interested before, but she had shown signs too. RIGHT? She had stared back and laughed and flirted a little without her knowing. She wrote him a song! But he was there, with another girl, touching her, laughing with her and he would probably kiss her by the end of the night.

JJ had said before that her music was sad and depressing and emotional. That's because the composers were. Artists, writers, composers, poets and the like were tied to emotions. It was how the most heart wrenching, beautiful and one of a kind art was made. How Shakespeare wrote about doomed romances. How Beethoven wrote Fur Elise. How Van Gogh painted with such originality. How Louisa Mae Alcott wrote a story about four sisters. How Taylor Swift wrote in a way that made poetry come to life through music. How she wrote songs.

And as a pianist, she agreed.

She was emotional.

She was strung by her emotions constantly. It was why she responded angrily when JJ bothered her. Why she cried in the bathroom when she felt used and ignored. Why she spiraled when she felt anxious. Why she tried to ignore her feelings in the first place because when she was emotionally attached, she hyper fixated.

Her emotions controlled her.

And it was why she turned around and let the tracks in the sand be the only proof that she was ever there.

Whatever confidence, whatever hope, whatever beautiful thing she had felt for the boy was shattered like a chandelier falling from a ten story building. The pieces, whatever was left, would be hidden in the back corners of her mind, collecting dust for the rest of eternity.

Her sober mind knew that it probably wasn't completely fair for her to get angry. It wasn't like they "talked" or flirted outright or kissed or anything of the sort. He had a right to go off and be with who he wanted. He wasn't tied to anyone.

But it didn't stop her from feeling the way she did.

She was angry. First at JJ for being with someone else. For making her feel like she had been led on. For making her distracted. For filling her up with hope. For giving her attention that she thought was only hers. For making her feel like she had a piece of him that no one else did.

She was angry. Secondly, at herself. For allowing herself to get distracted when her music was what she needed to focus on. For allowing her mind to be filled with teenage ideas of love and boys. For believing that someone actually liked her for her. For thinking that JJ may have been hers.

She was stupid to think those things. Irrational. Irresponsible.

She walked away from the party, walking down to the Cameron's home to get her bag that she had left. The streetlights were the only thing lighting her path and it was there that she felt the first tears of anger fall onto her cheeks.

It wasn't fair to him. For her to be angry for something he didn't know he did.

But she really wanted to believe that he liked her and her only.

So on the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, alone, the pianist cried out into the dark for a boy that she held close to her heart. She would allow herself to cry once and once only.

Before stuffing it in the farthest corner of her hardened heart, locking it away forever.

◇ ◇ ◇

He's liked her since they were in elementary school. Truthfully, he never looked at girls until he was in middle school. Boys thought girls were icky and girls thought boys were gross, but there was always something about her that intrigued him. She was the quiet one, sat in the back, never talked to anyone and usually ate lunch alone on the field they had. That was if she was there. Out of the 250-ish days of school, she had been there less than 100 of them.

Piano prodigy they called her. Girl with a gift. Marvelous. A wonder. A bunch of words that he knew a lot of his classmates got jealous of. Even him at one point. All because she could touch keys in order to make music.

She was hardly ever there - always on Figure Eight, on the mainland, in New York, Washington D.C or any other place that required her presence. But when she was there, it was as if she was a ghost. No one talked to her. If they ever looked at her, it was with jealous envy.

He didn't know why he liked her so much.

The one time she spoke to him, it was during the one rare moment when they had to work in pairs for music class. They got to choose their pairs and while he would usually pair with his new best friend of 2nd grade, John B. Routledge, he made a beeline to the pianist. She looked at him, tilting her head, as he asked if she wanted to be partners. She merely nodded his head and let him pull up a seat next to her desk. It was music class and anyone else, even John B who had paired with the new kid named Pope, thought he was in it for an easy 'A' as did anyone who was partners with her. The pairing up was to help each other with piano playing on the little keyboards.

She had been flawless with her rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star", but he had been a mess of a player. Wrong key every two notes and wrong note every key. He semi-expected her to laugh at him, but she didn't. Instead, she stood behind him and put his hands on the keys and guided him through the motions. She never said anything, only used her hands to help him. It took a whole class period, but he was able to do the lullaby as easily as she did by the end. He shyly thanked her, although he didn't know because he was never shy about anything as a kid. She nodded and while they waited in line to go to lunch, he kept on yapping.

He eventually figured out why he kept talking, but at that time, he was oblivious. He eventually said that he probably won't be a pianist like her when he's older since he's too hyperactive to be sitting down playing songs. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw her smile.

"You're a wildcard, JJ."

The class was led out of the room and before JJ could ask her what she meant by that, John B caught up with him and was pulling along the new kid with him.

A wildcard. Something with unpredictable behavior. Uncontrollable. Unkempt. Wild.

They never really talked after that incident, but he always watched her. In class. When they passed by in the halls. When she played at their 5th grade recital. The middle school play rehearsals. Their short interactions around Kildare. When she was on the news. She was always somewhere and anywhere she was, it caught his attention whether he wanted to pay attention or not. Always a thought in the back of his mind.

As he got older, he hated that she had some hold on him. She didn't do anything and neither did he, but he just liked her. Her. Her work ethic. How she found a way for herself. How she practiced day and night to get better and better. Her confidence in what she did. Her concentration. He liked her because she was just her and unapologetically so.

And when high school came around and she began to attend school more often, he found himself in the music room, escaping his pre-algebra class when found her there. The more he skipped some classes, he would escape to the otherwise empty music room. She was there for her first periods and her last periods. So he sometimes found himself in the room with one other person occupying it. The first time, he sat in the back as she practiced. If she saw him, she didn't say anything. The second and third time, he sat closer - seeing if she would say something. She merely glanced at him while fixing her sheet music and continued with her practice. Nothing moved her. Nothing shook her. She was still and commanded with everything she did.

And eventually he began to make some noise. Open a can of Monster. Take leftover sheet music and make paper airplanes that landed on or around her. He even blew a trumpet once. She never said anything, only glared and handed him the airplanes back, pointing her index finger to the back of the class. The more he seemed to bother, the more attention he got from her. The more she looked at him with her focused eyes, the more he wanted them on him.

And eventually, she became more vocal with her dislike and her annoyance. She'd tell him not to do something and he noted that when he began to push her, she pushed back. Soon their bickering became a common thing to do.

At first, he had to admit that he was trying to get her to dislike him, so that whatever little crush he had on her would disappear as her dislike grew. He wanted her to look at him with malice that maybe he'd grow some too. But instead, it had the opposite effect on him. Her dislike grew, but his crush only grew. Whether he bothered her or not, she never told on him (only that one time at the beginning of Freshman year) and used her words instead of her fists to tell him to stop bothering. And he did. Usually. By the time of the beginning of Sophomore year, he had accepted that he did like the pianist.

He liked her a lot.

He liked her hair and how she fiddled with it when she grew restless or anxious. How her short fingers moved across keys and flexed ever so delicately. How her eyes were as expressive as her face. Her shorter figure that always demanded she look up to him when she spoke. The smiles that told him that she enjoyed being with him. Her hands too. Delicate and soft.

Oh yeah, he liked her a lot.

But now her resentment had grown into a full grown hate and he didn't blame her for any of it. He didn't even have to speak for her to glare at him. So he toned it down. Only making playful remarks with some sarcastic crack at her and it seemed to work. She was less aggressive with him and he even caught her smirking a few times. He'd made the rare notion of messing with her outside of class, but he wasn't met with the harsh stare or tongue of malice, but instead with a similar joke or a narrow of playful eyes. He swore he even saw her look at him a few times during history and art.

But now came the interesting million dollar question.

What now?

He liked her. He was sure that maybe she felt the same way, but then the doubt sinked in. What would she have with him? She was future a pianist in some famous band or orchestra or would become a solo artist or whatever in New York or D.C or heck, even in the United Kingdom or France. She was destined for more.

And him?

Some punk from the Cut who never had more than fifty bucks in his pocket. Wasting his life away at keggers, fights, weed and barely passing his classes. He'd go out with almost every girl who caught his eye. He'd never been in a committed relationship. He didn't even know if he wanted that. He didn't go out with girls to forget her because he wasn't a boy waiting for a girl. But that wasn't the full truth. He couldn't forget her because she had made her mark. She had imprinted herself like a golden tan on his mind - forever a reminder that there was some amazing girl out there that liked Beethoven and Mozart, who enjoyed drinking iced matchas with almond milk and writing music, who could push back as much as you pushes her, who had a confidence that others would pay for, who shined like a bright star whenever she played. She was everything he wasn't.

So, what would she have with him?

Easy.

Nothing.

She would never look at him the way John B said he looked at her. She would never willingly want to hold his hand or spend every waking moment with him or go to the beach to watch him surf or spend time listening to him talk about fishing or surfing or rock music.

That was the thing of dreams.

So he went out with other girls. He continued on with his life as if she hadn't completely flipped it around.

But then things began to change within that last month. She was more playful, nicer even to him. She still had the ability to give him hell if she wanted to and if he decided to push, she'd push back. But their friendship grew and flourished. All because he finally let his guard down and allowed her to drop hers without judgment. She responded to him as much as he responded to her.

So, he knew that if he shook the boat too hard, she'd obliterate it.

They were similar that way.

But she wanted him around. She even complied with writing The Ballad of JJ. She called him "wildcard" as she had done before as a kid. She smiled at his with a kind of sparkle that almost made him kill her in order to feel it. And for once, he had hope, but what was hope if, again, she was destined for the stars and he was stuck on Kildare just like his old man and every man in his family beforehand?

If he tried hard enough, maybe he could deserve her.

Or maybe he would never and he would merely be a song that she wrote as she went off into the world.

Either way, he was done waiting.

He decided that at a kegger he went to. He was sitting with a girl he knew from school, flirting and talking, when he realized he didn't want to do that. The pianist was plaguing his mind and all he thought about as he flirted and touched the girl's hair is how much he wanted to be with her. Did she like keggers? He never saw her at them? What would she wear? Did she drink? Does she like dancing?

Questions that went round and round when he stopped and realized what he had to do.

He was done waiting.

Because it was stupid. Waiting. Hoping. He was a doer. If he got rejected, that was it. He would live. He would go on with his life. He wasn't going to keep pining. If he ruined a friendship, well, he's ruined worst things.

It was stupid to tell her how he felt. It was stupid to ask her out. It was stupid to believe that she would say yes.

However, he believed in his personal philosophy.

Stupid things have good outcomes all the time.

◇ ◇ ◇

He just hadn't realized how stupid he had been

◇ ◇ ◇

It was Sunday, the day before the recital and she's determined to avoid JJ at all costs after Friday night. She had told Sarah about what happened and she immediately told her to come over. She offered to pick her up, but she just wanted to walk. To think. To find closure within. She semi-regretted it as the June sun began to beat on her.

She believed the world hated her because she would have never believed that she would have run into the very boy she was trying to avoid on the day after he accidentally fractured her heart. She was walking, ten minutes away from the Camerons, when she heard her name being called followed by a short but hight pitched whistle.

Driving the same van as before (which she know knew as the "Twinkie" as John B called it) JJ Maybank slowed down his driving near the girl he had caught feelings for.

"Hey, what you doin'?" He asked with a cheeky smile.

"Walking," She replied, her tone mimicking the same unimpressed one she had at the beginning of May when JJ came around to the music room.

"I can see that. Very nice walking." When she didn't respond, he cleared his throat, "So uh, where you going?"

"Camerons."

"Cool." He cleared his throat awkwardly. The one word answers were not normal after their week of delight. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." She folded her arms and kept walking, never putting her eyes on him.

Shit, JJ thought. If she was pissed off, he couldn't ask her out. And if she was pissed off, there was something wrong. So, he made a risky move and quickly (and illegally) parked the car and ran up to her. His hand caught her arm and she turned around, pulling her arm out of his grasp as if he had burned her.

"What?" She asked.

"What's wrong? You can tell me if something is wrong." He reminded, "We're friends." He winced internally. Probably not the best phrase to say as he's about to ask her out, "Is it the recital?"

"Friends." She mocked and turned back around.

He didn't relent and decided to push, "What's wrong with you?"

"A lot of things. Thanks for the reminder." She chuckled dryly before digging her hand in her tote bag, "Oh and here." She tossed it to his hands.

He caught the item, noticing that it was his hat. He furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding.

"It's yours." He said, falling into pace with her, handing it back, but her hand pushed back.

"It's yours. I don't want it."

"Wait, wait, wait." He finally stood in front of her, blocking her path. "What's happening? Did I miss something?"

"Nothing. Just giving you your hat back." She tried to move to the side, but he blocked it with his body.

"No, no. You're doing something else."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No!"

"Yes!" He shouted back.

"Fine!" She relented. "I don't want to see you. I don't want you around. I don't want your hat. I don't want you in the music room. I don't want you near me. Okay? Okay." She shoved him to the side, but before she could even take a step, he grabbed her bicep and pulled her close, close enough that she could smell sea salt and smoke on him.

"What the hell are you saying?"

"I was stupid enough to actually believe that you liked me, but I guess you like every single girl on the damn island." She tried to pull out his grasp, but he held on tighter. It didn't hurt, but her heart did.

"I d-"

"If you did, you wouldn't have been with that girl at the kegger. If you did, you would have said something by now. You can go out and be with as many others as you want but you don't have enough interest to tell me?" She scoffed, "You've distracted me enough. You made me feel so stupid for thinking that you liked me and I was even more stupid for thinking I liked you back." She tugged at her arm, but JJ was like a statue, staring with his mouth parting. "I don't have time for you and I don't want to make time for you anymo-"

It happened quickly.

She almost didn't process what he was doing when he did it until she was doing it with him.

His mouth fell onto hers as his other hand pulled her in by her waist. His hand fell from her bicep and instead cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her. He tried to put every ounce of feeling into it - the passion and yearning he felt, the desire and burning. His mouth was soft, but demanding.

She felt all her anger and her malice fall as his mouth moved. The thoughts in her head flooded away as she pulled him in closer by his black button up. Her left hand held on tightly to his shirt while her right hand was flat on his chest, as if deciding whether to push him away or not.

His mouth almost pulled away, but she finally responded and allowed her mouth to open, allowing their kiss to deepen. They were breathing into each other's mouth, desperate to stay connected to one another. His teeth nibbled at her lip to which she pulled at his shirt even tighter. A chill ran down her spine as her body began to heat up more and more from their closeness. Not even the sun and its direct rays could have created the amount of heat between them.

JJ was in complete euphoria as their kiss went from soft and slow to burning and passionate as if they were speaking with their lips and lips only. His tongue teased her lips and her mouth opened slightly, allowing him to make his entrance. If they weren't in kook public, he would have pinned her up against a wall or a car in order to allow more room for movement.

And maybe it would have gone farther if her brain didn't zip back into rational thought and pulled away. Their breathing was rapid and heavy as they stared at each other, unsure how they got that far. She was silent, unsure how to respond to a sudden and stolen kiss.

JJ, not usually one to talk about his feelings, untangled himself from her, taking a step back before placing the hat that she had tried to return on her head.

"Keep it." He huffed out before walking back to the Twinkie and driving down the street.

The kiss had confirmed what both of them suspected and now knew.

Their feelings were real and reciprocated.

However, it didn't make anything else clear.

In fact, everything felt more complicated. She was angry at him for "leading her on" after she saw him with another girl. He was angry at her for not wanting to see him because of a miscommunication. She was angry at herself for not letting him speak and clear everything. He was angry at himself for being with another girl because now it fucked up everything with her.

But it didn't stop their minds from wandering to the same question.

What now?

◇ ◇ ◇

Sarah swore that she had never been friends with a dumber person. She may be a prodigy, but man, was she stupid sometimes. JJ had kissed the living daylights out of her, gave the hat back and she was doubting everything now. It was clear to Sarah - he was telling her that he liked her and that he was sorry.

But her best friend didn't see it that way.

In a way, she didn't blame her. She wasn't use to the dramas and the mind games of relationships, situationships or friendships that weren't friendships at all. And she knew that she was embarrassed by her outburst. So she allowed her best friend to wallow the day away.

The day of the recital, Sarah got an idea. It was risky and could backfire, but she knew that if she didn't do it, her little prodigy would never resolve this thing on her own. She was too focused on her recital that she couldn't take a break to think about the blond boy that had been pining for her.

The prodigy was near to leaving when Sarah snuck away from her, past her father and Rose who were speaking with the pianist's mother, and outside to the Druthers. She knew one person who could help and she was placing all her bets that he knew what was going on.

"John B." Sarah said, "We need to talk."

The boy put down the bucket and hose that he was using and wiped his hands with a cloth, "What about, Sarah Cameron?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Unless JJ didn't fill his very best friend in." John B shook his head and Sarah sighed, "Look, she's embarrassed. She didn't mean to blow up at him. She doesn't know how to apologize."

"Tell me about it. JJ doesn't know how to apologize either. And the fact that he wants to apologize is something you don't hear everyday."

"She likes him. A lot." She smiled softly, "She wouldn't be all frazzled and upset if she didn't. So," She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, "Let's give them hope."

"A ticket?" He asked.

"To her recital tonight in D.C." She sighed, "I don't know if he's gonna make it or want to go. It's a long five hour drive or train ride, but if he wants to go, it's there."

"I don't know." He shrugged. He'd never really seen JJ like that. Quiet. As if he thought too much that he couldn't even speak. "It could complicate things more."

"She was going to invite him on Friday." She admits, "She had the ticket in advance."

And with that he sighed, knowing that he couldn't take an opportunity away from his best friend, "No promises, Sarah Cameron."

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

◇ ◇ ◇

She pulled on her dress once more. It was a beautiful dress that had been bought by her mother, but she did feel kind of warm in it. The bow in her hair matched it and so did the shoes. She had been dressed in a simple black dress beforehand, but this one was made of velvet, and was longer in length than when she played in the orchestra and pockets.

Pockets!

Her performance was more important, she guessed.

But her mind was anywhere, but her performance.

Through the ferry ride to the mainland to the five hour limo ride to the concert hall - the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts - her mind was occupied with JJ Maybank.

"Oh great!" Margie barged into her dressing room, "You're on in ten. Let's get going."

She nodded, sitting up from her vanity, glancing once at the hat that was sitting on it. It was like her was actually there, assuring he that she'd be okay. She reached her hands out for a moment, but hesitated.

Margie called out her name once more, impatient by the door.

She followed Margie out the room.

The concert hall was full and from her view from the stage when she played earlier, she could see a few people she knew. A few senators. A couple congress men and women. Directors of universities. A professor from Juilliard that she had studied under when she was nine. But there were some she hadn't known, but knew from their posture and the way they took notes that they were either scouts or people of importance.

She was prepped and ready, but began to breathe heavily. She could do it. She could do it. She knew she could. The anxiety told her she couldn't, but she tossed them aside. She couldn't do anything, but play now. Whether she had boy problems or not, whether she just had her first kiss less than 48 hours before, she was a pianist first. She put her first love first before anyone else. Her future first.

But having him there would have been better.

She stood at the corner of the stage, breathing more steadily as her announcement was made. A round of applause followed and she walked elegantly on the stage. Her shoes clicked against the clean and slick floor as she made her way to the sleek black piano. She moved her dress aside so she'd sit comfortably. Her sheet music was out for her as a guide, but she knew she wouldn't even have to look at it.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

She put her fingers on the keys and played her first piece. As written on the program handed out for her time slot specifically, she played it as tribute to herself. And down she went on the list for her first section - classical and somber.

Fur Elise - a tribute to her middle name and her favorite composer of all time. La Campanella - at only the age of eight, she played this piece during her first live performance in Lincoln Center. I Wanted to Leave - an spectacular original piece by our composer. the inspiration came during a late night practice session at her home when she decided to write her own music. it is one of her first original works. Mists - one of the most challenging parts of her journey was learning to be spontaneous with her music. much like Beethoven, Iannis Xenakis' work inspired her to try less regulated music and explore the chaos. Cardigan - this original song took over two years to write. her inspiration for this piece was the idea that when one is young many believe that they know nothing. her song explores the highs and lows of both the piano and life, showing that she does know more than others believe. She dedicates it to her five year old self. Gymnopedie no 1 - going back to her roots, she plays one of the first songs she's ever memorized. she dedicates it to her mother, who encouraged her to play from day one and to her father, who once told her she'd play for audiences around the world.

The first set of thirty minutes ended as soon as it started. She was given a loud applause and she gave a small curtsy, a spotlight on her, before the curtains enclosed the stage and the lights turned on for the audience. She let out a breath as Margie, her mother and others came towards her, catering to her. Someone gave her a water bottle, another brought her lotion for her hands and another with a small towel to dab her forehead.

"Beautifully done, honey." Her mother kissed her head. "Your last piece made me remember the first days when you kept playing it. Drove your father and I crazy."

"Thank you, ma." She smiled.

"Okay, okay. Costume change!" Margie sang. "I have to go check up on your audience."

Quickly, she was rushed to the back and put on another outfit. It was a dark blue dress made of tulle. It was airy and light compared with the black dress that had made her feel suffocated. It was off the shoulder with tulle frills. She was thankful as long sleeves combined with hot stage lights did not combine well. Her shoes were replaced with Mary Janes. It was relief to her sore ankle that kept rubbing on a sharp part of the heels she was thrown into.

She received a text from Sarah as her black bow was replaced with a gold hair pin that kept her hair back. She congratulated her on her performance, saying that there was a lot of positive feedback. The pianist smiled for a moment before, replying with a smiling emoji, before thanking her hair stylist. For a moment, she was left alone to give herself some room to breathe.

Alone was the damn hat.

She picked it up. It felt intimate now. Touching the hat from the boy she liked and who liked her back. The hat that he had told her to keep after he kissed her for the first time. She couldn't help, but smile.

That boy made her crazy.

She had been distracted and pissed before, but now, all she felt was acceptance.

When she got back to OBX, she'd make things right with him. Maybe he wouldn't forgive her and she'd accept it. Maybe he would decide that he didn't want to be with her and she'd accept his answer. Whatever the ending would be, she'd be thankful for the hours of attention he gave her and the feeling of being cared for. He deserved her explanation without yelling because he had been nothing but good to her.

Maybe she'd always like JJ Maybank. And she was okay with that thought.

A knock on the door came and so did a ding from her phone. Margie barged in, calling her for her last thirty minute set. She nodded before standing up. She glanced at the hat.

She followed Margie out of the room.

The same process repeated.

Deep breaths. A last sip of water. Another announcement and she was off onto the stage. She sat on the stool, but before she put her hands on the keys, she placed JJ's hat on the empty space to her left, hidden from the audience's view. She had hidden the hat in her black dress' pocket, but without any pockets, she put it to her side. She smiled for a second before placing her fingers on the keys.

"Why do you play depressing songs? I thought pianists were supposed to be lighthearted."

She paused.

"There's a whole world out there that isn't classical music that could apply to your piano playing."

Her mother and Margie would probably kill her later. It was stupid to deviate from the plan.

But if there was anything JJ Maybank taught her: stupid things have good outcomes all the time.

She turned in her seat, gesturing to the stagehands for a microphone. Margie and her mother stared from the sidelines, slightly freaking out. Realizing she wasn't going to play without a microphone, she was quickly handed one by a stagehand. She tapped it, making sure it was on before, turning to the audience.

This is so stupid, but here we go.

"Uh, hi, everyone. Thank you for being here today. I know you're probably wondering what I'm doing with a microphone if I'm a pianist." She chuckled, "Don't worry, I'm not going to sing. I'm not total singing potiental, I promise you," A round of laughter, "and it's not what you came here for. You came for piano and I promise I'll give you that, but I've changed my mind about something." She took a breath, "I will not be playing the complete set that is written on your programs. I've realized a common theme in my playing tonight and someone who I care about recently told me that, um, there's another world that doesn't contain classical or melancholy music that could be applied to my talent. And I didn't believe in it before, but I do now.

"I believe in it now because I experienced something I never have before and I am very grateful for it because it has expanded what I once believed. It has challenged me and brought me to what I now believe and want. I thank that person for telling me that. I...I wish he was here tonight" She let a beat pass before sitting up straighter, "Which is why I will be changing up the setlist tonight. In honor of changing my way of thinking and thanking the people that have impacted my life in many different ways. I hope you still enjoy it."

She turned back to the piano, sliding the microphone into the holder that was already on the piano.

"This first one is to my best friend, Sarah Cameron. She's in the audience. Hi, Sarah." The audience chuckled a little, "This one's for you. For being my best friend and for choosing me during our rocky years."

She didn't play the setlist chosen for her. She played her own. And in each song, she explained the meaning behind it. Something she had never done before, but felt right in doing so.

Later, when her performance went viral online for her unexpected change of plans, Margie would have her write up the reasons for the songs she chose to post online with a deeper thought process.

The Climb - a song for Sarah Cameron. my best friend. we watched the Hannah Montana movie a million times at her house and at mine and we always sang it together. we know the journey is tough, but with each other, we're never alone. i adore her. she helped my journey so much that i had to start with her. Viva La Vida - it was one of my favorite songs as a kid. i used to sing it all the time. i liked the history behind it. the fall of a famous king. i played it once for my mom and she recorded me without knowing. i think she still has the tape. Sweet Nothing - this song is original. i wrote it when i was struggling with being alone. it began when i was in elementary school and i finished it the summer before freshman year. i wrote it in order to convince myself that one day i'd have people in my life that would want nothing from me, but myself. i never played it because of how personal it was and i didn't think anyone wanted to hear something sweet and about me. thankfully, someone changed my mind. Don't Stop Me Now - the person who told me there was another world of music i hadn't tapped into was right. after that conversation, i decided to try it out. simple to see if he was right. i decided on this song by Queen because my dad loved the song. i know he was smiling when i played it. it was so upbeat and fun to play that i forgot i was on stage. Never Grow Up - okay, okay, i had to. yes, slow songs are my forte. at the time, i didn't really have other original upbeat songs, but i thought this was the sweetest to play. again, it was another song to myself. it was to my younger self, who didn't know where she'd end up. it was a apology to her, to tell her she still had time to be a kid. it's my apology to her for growing up too fast. i hope she can forgive me. Left Hand Free - so the same person who told me to explore other world told me randomly that a song by Alt J would be perfect for me. i rolled my eyes at the time, but i decided to play it. it was like a little inside joke as i'm pretty sure most people in the audience didn't know what i was playing. it's kind of like the theme song of OBX, where i'm from. my gift to you from paradise on earth.

By the end, she hadn't realized that her time was almost up when the stage manager gave her the five minute warning sign. she nodded and picked up the microphone again.

"So I don't have much time left, but if you're still here, then thank you for still being interested." She laughed, "But uh, for this last song, I want to play something that I actually wrote for someone else. It was my second time writing something for someone else in such fashion. It's called The Ballad of JJ No.2 . If it sounds weird, blame his parents for naming him JJ because that wasn't me." The audience laughed, "It's part two because the first part is for him and him only. This second part, however, I can share with the rest of you because I don't think it's much of a secret." She turned back to piano and put the mic back in it's slot before picking up the hat and placing it on her head, "And to JJ, thanks for being a wildcard."

The Ballad of JJ No. 2 - so JJ is actually the boy who told me the quotes that I mentioned during the recital. he was my friend at the time (more like frenemy) but during the second half of the recital, i just thought back to him and how he was right. the reason i wrote the song was because he answered a question for me and i had to write a song for him in return. he was the one who titled it "The Ballad of JJ". he actually helped me write the first part. i decided that since his name was in the title, it might as well be a song about him. the first part is up and down and all around. wild. just like him. and sorry to all who want to hear it, but it's for JJ's ears only. the second part i wrote as an "alternate" version and it was the one i shared with my manager, mom and best friend when i was testing out originals. it was unfinished at the time, but i completed it on the way to the recital actually. i didn't know i would perform it, but i'm glad i did. his second ballad was what i felt about him. wild. electric. passionate. enchanted, it was everything i felt for him in a song that i couldn't say in words at the time. if you're reading this, i know you're going to tease me, but thanks for challenging me, J. it's the best thing i've ever written (also know that you're never getting your hat back. it one hundred percent mine now and you're the only one to blame).

The last note rang and she let out a breath. It was done. It was out in the open. No denial. No pauses. No hesitation.

(Later on, that one specific part of the recital went viral for her "love confession". It was all anyone could talk about for a couple days. No one outside of the OBX knew who "JJ" was or how he got her to write not one, but two ballads about him. She found it funny how everyone thought "JJ" was her boyfriend, when in reality, they weren't even together. At the time, at least.)

Claps and shouts rang through the concert hall. She stood up and as she did, so did the audience. A standing ovation she received for her performance. She walked to the edge of the stage and gave a final curtsy. She stood for a moment, taking in the cheers and approval for her performance. She hadn't failed, but she didn't care for failure at the moment.

She did something new.

A whistle came from the audience.

She knew that high pitched whistle anywhere.

She scanned the audience, hoping she wasn't dreaming, but couldn't find the person anywhere.

In the first box on the right, Sarah Cameron was waving frantically. The pianist's attention was soon caught and she scrunched up her eyebrows as Sarah rapidly pointed downwards to below the box she was in. Her eyes followed and landed on a boy with messy blond hair, blue eyes and a dopey smile on his face.

He was there.

Before the curtains could close properly, she ran towards the side of the stage where she barreled through the stage crew, her mother and Margie as she made her way out of the backstage. Her shoes hit the ground hard as she ran with all her might. She didn't have to go far because as soon as she saw the door that led to the audience's front row, it swung open so hard that it hit the wall with a bang.

"JJ!" She shouted, catching hit attention. She stopped short once she made it in front of him, "How...why...I-" She had run so fast that she was out of breath, panting.

"Sarah gave me the ticket you saved for me." He said, "Well she gave John B the ticket, who gave it to me almost two hours before your performance. I had to take a train to get here and I didn't see everything, but I made it during the beginning of your second round."

"So you heard-"

"Everything? Yeah," He grinned, "Really ballsy changing your music at the last minute. Did not expect that."

She shook her head with a laugh, "I just knew.I had to. I have to like what I'm playing. Like you said." Her breathing had become more regulated, so she spoke clearer, "I'm sorry I blew up on you. I wasn't being fair to you. I was angry and jealous and a complete ass to you. I'm sorry." She confessed and it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders, "I really like your attention, but I really really like you."

JJ replied with, "I'm...sorry too. I should have told you earlier instead of fucking around and ignoring what I felt for...you." He cleared him throat, "When I'm around you it's like...it's like heavy and like," He moved his hands around his chest, "It's like my heart wants to implode and just like...just...wow! You know?"

JJ had never been good with communicating his feels. Especially to the girl he's liked since elementary school. He was never good with his words, but he was good with his actions. That's why he kissed her. Saying everything he couldn't in action. But even then, he tried his hardest to say what he felt. And she saw that fully. She had trouble saying it too. That's why she played it instead - it was a love note to him that she couldn't say out loud.

"It's like...fireworks or like the freaking butterlies. Ever since we were kids and now I just..." He took a breath, "I really really reall- I never thought that you would even look at me. You're you and I'm me. I'm a reck and you're just-."

And the more hand movement he had, the more he made her smile. A bright one that said everything he needed to know. He noticed and stopped speaking. He knew she knew. No words could say what he felt, but every action said it for him.

So, he reached forward and pulled his hat down so that it covered her face, "Nice hat. Where'd you get it?"

She pulled it up, meeting his eyes, "Some guy I wrote a second ballad for."

"Oh yeah?" He took a step forward.

"Yeah." She nodded nonchalantly, "Don't know what he thought of it though. He hasn't even heard the first one fully."

JJ looked amused, chuckling as he looked to the side, "Oh he liked it. So much so that you can play both of them on your first date with him."

"Oh really?" She tilted her head to the side, with a teasing smile, "He won't try and distract me, right? Throw a paper airplane. Blow a trumpet. Crack open a can of Mons-"

Her sentence didn't even get to finish as JJ only shook his head with a wide smile and pulled her into a kiss. She smiled, knowing that her rambling would caused that reaction. His body pressed up against hers, molding into each other as if they were made for one another. His strong arms eloped around her, one around her waist and the other around her neck. She put her hand onto his shirt, pulling him closer as her other hand ran through his hair.

Their first kiss was matches and gasoline being poured together. Their second was thunder and lightning. Same passion, different area. The first was destructive based on two opposite forces. The second were merely nature, two forces that worked together.

Both beautiful in their own categories.

Her hand tugged on his hair and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Their noises were drowned out by the clamor outside the door. Her fingers trailed his jaw and his throat. His stroked her waist, causing her stomach to erupt in butterflies.

More. More. More.

It was all they wanted.

More as everything ran through them. The wants. The desires. The love. The fire. The passion. The need. The unexplainable euphoria that ran through their bodies and into their souls - their souls that spoke to one another in this one moment.

He smelt like sea salt and smoke. He tasted like sugar. He felt like fire. His hands like water as they drowned her in sensations that she hadn't felt before, but would die to feel over and over if it was him causing it.

She smelt like old books and flowers. She tasted like sweet chamomile tea. She felt like velvet. Her presence, her entire being, was like the salty air of the beach - consuming every part of him until he desired nothing more than to stay in that moment forever.

"So that's a yes?" He pulled away abruptly, eyes sleepy and hands shaking.

"Shut up and kiss me."

And he did just that.

◇ ◇ ◇

thedarlinglore: you'd be dead if you took a shot every time i used the word "maybe". it should be illegal with how much i used that word. it took me three days to write this and one to edit. it took me out of my writing slump. might make a part 2. thank you mr.maybank ❤

[lumosandnoxwriting]

you saw the truth in me || George Weasley

Title: you saw the truth in me Pairing: George x Reader Warnings: Mentions of fighting/violence, mentions of blood.  Summary: George never thought he’d be back here again, heartbroken over the only girl he’s ever loved. But once again, he only has himself and his stupidity to blame. Hockey has always been his safe place, but even that isn’t enough to heal his broken heart. A man once at the height of his life, is now on the cusp of losing it all. It’s time for the lies and fakeness to end, and George can only hope it isn’t too late. A/N: here it is, the final part of hockey!george! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series and left lovely comments/sent messages - it truly means so much to me that you all love hockey!George as much as I do! As always, comments/feedback are always welcome and appreciated <3 Tags: @rk-ceres

-

George is purely operating on auto-pilot at this point. When Y/N walked out of his life she took all of his motivation and will to do anything with her. If hockey wasn’t all he had left George surely would have been happy rotting away in bed for the foreseeable future. But without Y/N around he has to focus on something, so hockey it is. 

He only gets out of bed because he has practice and training and film sessions to attend. He only gets in the shower so that he doesn’t scare away the few people he hasn’t managed to run off. Eating is purely for fuel, and something he only remembers to do when his body is on the verge of collapsing. 

Before she came back into his life George thought hockey was the only love he’d ever have. Hell, he even went back home and convinced his ex-girlfriend to pretend to be engaged to him so that he could further his career. But having Y/N in his home and in his heart taught him many things, one of them being that there is more in life than just hockey. It really made George reevaluate his outlook, made him think about what happens when he retires and what he wants his life to look like. 

Before Y/N he had convinced himself that he’d spend the rest of his days alone, spending time with his family and doting on his nieces and nephews between lavish vacations and golf trips. Maybe he’d coach a peewee league or two. Whatever he would do George had it in his head that he would be doing it alone. 

But once Y/N reappeared in his life all of those future plans changed. He saw a house in a quiet suburb with a golden retriever in the yard. He saw Y/N in the kitchen, humming to herself as she made dinner. There were kids too, at least three, a perfect combination of the two of them that would fill their house with love and laughter. 

It was a future that George didn’t just imagine - he yearned for it. And with one mistake it’s gone. 

Now he’s not really sure what the point of it all is. What’s the point of being at the height of his career when there’s no one in the stands cheering him on? What’s the point of making all of this money when he has no college funds or family vacations to spend it on? 

He knows everyone is worried about him, but he’s gone into pure survival mode. Ignoring everyone and everything that might make him feel something. Just like he did the last time he fucked up and lost Y/N.

-

George grunts as Ross slams him into the boards, his shoulder seizing up as his head bounces off the glass. He doesn’t even have the energy to hit back, he just lets him skate off with the puck. 

He’s been playing like absolute shit ever since he came back from spring break, but George can’t find it in himself to care. There’s a Y/N shaped hole in his heart, and there isn’t room in his mind for anything except the pain he feels without her. Sure he’s the one who broke them up, but he was doing what he thought was best for her - not for him. 

Even knowing that the Rebels will be drafting him next week isn’t enough to make him feel anything other than pain, which is ironic considering the fact that he told Y/N some bullshit about needing to focus on hockey was the reason why he was ending things. At this point George doesn’t even care if he makes it to the NHL, hell Coach could cut him tomorrow and he��d walk away from hockey forever. 

Without Y/N nothing really makes sense anymore. 

George is so out of it that he doesn’t even realize the game is still going on around him until Coach blows his whistle. 

“All right, that's enough for today, hit the locker room boys. Weasley - my office, now!”

He takes his time leaving the ice, not wanting to face the worried looks his teammates have been sending his way for days. George is almost thankful that Coach is about to tear him a new asshole, since the locker room will probably be empty by the time he gets back there and he doesn’t have to ignore all the questions the boys are sure to have. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Weasley?” Coach asks before George’s ass is even in the seat across from his desk. 

“Just got a lot on my mind,” George mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. 

Coach huffs, clearly torn between berating the boy in front of him or offering him a sympathetic shoulder. “Look, I can’t imagine the shit you’re going through, kid. But you gotta leave it in the locker room. Out on that ice the only thing that should be in your head is the game, you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, George. Fucking up out there isn’t just going to fuck things up for the team but for you as well. The Rebel’s are only offering you a provisional contract, there’s no guarantee they’ll actually call you up once you graduate. Then you’ll be stuck entering the draft as a free agent, and with the way you’ve been playing you’ll be lucky to make it onto a farm team. This is everything you’ve been working towards, Weasley and you are so fucking close, kid. Don’t let all that hard work go to waste. Hockey is the only thing you’ve got room for in your life, understand?”

George nods, and after a few moments of silence Coach dismisses him and he doesn’t hesitate to get the fuck out of there. 

But Coach is right. If he can’t have Y/N at least he still has hockey, and that will have to be enough.

-

Which is why he’s ignored every single one of Fred’s phone calls, and has made up an excuse every time Adam or Thomas invites him out to do something. He told them Y/N had to go back home for some kind of family emergency to explain his shitty mood, and George knows the second they get him alone they’ll be able to tell something bigger is going on; and that is not a conversation George is ready to have. 

They’ve got one more preseason game before Morris announces him as Captain, and George is just holding on until then. Once the announcement is made he’ll be able to get his shit back together and be the man everyone seems to think he is. 

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

-

“Hey, you okay?”

Y/N flinches at the sound of Fred’s voice, and she slowly spins around to face him. He’s standing just where George did all of those weeks ago when he came to ask for her help and it makes the hole in her chest throb. Because even though George hurt her again, Y/N wishes it was him standing there checking on her, not his twin. 

“Just peachy,” she lies, giving Fred her best fake grin. 

Fred snorts in laughter. “I think you’ve always been so focused on George that you forget I’ve known you just as long as he has, Y/N. So cut the crap, we both know you’re not okay.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders slump. Because Fred is right. She’s so far from being okay that word has lost all meaning. It’s been three days since she left Chicago, and even though she’d been desperate to get away Y/N finds herself wishing she was there, back at home with George. 

She’s not really sure when Chicago became home, but the second she touched down in Washington she knew this wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Everything just feels wrong. 

Her old apartment that she thought was so cozy feels like a prison cell, skating at the community center doesn’t bring her the same joy it used to - not when she knows what it’s like to skate at the arena with George by her side. Even seeing her friends leaves her with a longing to hang out with Olivia and Jenny. 

It’s like George finally showed her what it really means to live her life, and now she’s just floating along with no idea how to function anymore. So she plasters on her best fake smile and does what she does best: pretend.

“Look,” Fred starts, taking a few steps forward so he’s closer. “I have no idea what happened between you and George while you guys were in Chicago and I’m not going to pretend that I fully understand the relationship you two have. But there are a few things I do know for sure. For starters I know my brother is hurting, he’s refusing my calls and if the texts I’ve gotten from his teammates are true he’s shutting himself out from the world. And the only other time he did that was after he broke up with you and he was heartbroken.”

Y/N looks away from Fred, not wanting him to see how upset it makes her knowing George is hurting too. Even though she knows he brought that upon himself, she knows she played a role in that pain too. Instead of sticking around to hear what George had to say, she shut down and ran away, just like she did all those years ago. Just like she regrets doing all those years ago. 

Instead of staying and working things out together, she ran, and all that has accomplished is making them both feel like shit. 

“I also know that whatever the hell happened between you two was far from fake. Because you’re both hurt for real, and some stupid lie or argument between two people pretending to be in love wouldn’t cause this kind of heartbreak,” he continues when she doesn’t say anything. “Finally, I know whatever the hell happened was just a roadblock in your story, not the end. You still love George, and you’re holding out hope that he still loves you too.”

His voice is so strong and sure, and those feelings are reflected in Fred’s gaze once Y/N gets the courage to look at him. It almost takes her breath away, how confident Fred is that her and George will work things out. 

“How do you know?” she asks, unable to keep the question in. “How can you be so sure that everything is going to work out?”

The smile on Fred’s face could light the world as he gestures towards her left hand. “Because you’re still wearing the ring my brother gave you. If everything that happened was really fake, and you’re really done with him, why are you still wearing it?”

Y/N is at a loss for words, and with a final wink Fred turns on his heel and walks away. Once he’s disappeared she can’t help but look at the diamond sparkling on her finger, and even just the thought of taking it off makes her chest ache. Despite it being a painful reminder of what could have been, every time she’s tried to take it off Y/N was never quite able to go through with it. It’s the last claim George has over her, and taking it off means that they really are over. 

And if George is feeling just as heartbroken as she is, maybe there still is hope for a happily ever after. 

-

“Wow, Fred wasn’t lying. You really do look like shit.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at Angelina’s bluntness, but there’s a genuine smile on her face for the first time in days. 

“Please, come in and continue to insult me when I already feel like dog shit,” Y/N responds, opening her front door wider so she can come in. 

It’s been a few days since Fred confronted her at the rink, and Y/N isn’t totally surprised that Angelina is here to check up on her. She’d kind of been hoping that she would show up eventually, because Y/N has been dying to get a female perspective on the situation. If anyone is going to tell it to her straight with no regard for her feelings it’s going to be Angelina Johnson. 

Perhaps the best thing to come out of her relationship with George, besides all the love and whatever, is her relationship with Angelina. Dating one half of Fred and George is taxing, to say the least, and the two girls developed a kind of kinship over complaining about all the shit their boyfriends got into. 

Luckily Y/N got to keep Angelina in the breakup, because getting fake engaged to your ex boyfriend and then falling in love with him again is something only a girl who is dating a Weasley twin can understand. 

“You know I already nursed you through one George Weasley breakup,” Angelina teases as she plops down onto the couch. “I’m not really sure I have it in me to do it again.”

“You came over here on your own, you realize that, right?” Y/N sits down next to her, halfheartedly hitting the other girl with a throw pillow. “You’re the one who volunteered yourself for this position.”

“Semantics,” Angelina scoffs playfully. She bites her lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous as she clutches the pillow Y/N hit her with to her chest. “I mean it kind of is my fault that you’re in this situation, so it only makes sense that I help you come up with a plan to get out of it.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just because Fred got this hairbrained idea for George and I to get fake engaged because you read a bunch of romance novels does not make any of this your fault. I’m the one who went and fucked up the plan by actually getting real feelings. And you certainly didn’t make George lie to me. I’m the one who got myself into this mess.”

“Still, I feel bad and Fred has been fucking moping around the apartment since George refuses to pick up his calls and I needed a good reason to get the hell out of there.”

“So you’re here for purely selfish reasons,” Y/N laughs. “I see how it is.”

“So you really fell in love with George again, huh?” Angelina questions, nudging Y/N’s knee with her own. 

“Yeah, like a fucking idiot.”

Angelina huffs a laugh. “I don’t know how those boys ended up managing to get two of the hottest girls we went to school with. I swear it must be witchcraft.” That pulls another smile from Y/N, and she considers her next words carefully. “And you’re not an idiot, Y/N. If you fell back in love with George it’s because of who George is and the way he treated you. It’s not like you hated him and then woke up on a random morning madly in love again.”

Y/N shrugs, keeping her eyes focused on the rug to keep from looking at the other girl. “I don’t think I ever really hated George,” she admits quietly. “Was I pissed at him for breaking up with me? Of course, but I never hated him. I think deep down I’ve always loved him, but I refused to acknowledge those feelings to keep myself from getting hurt. That’s the only reason I agreed to this stupid thing in the first place, I told myself either this was George and I’s second chance at a future or it was the wake up call I needed to finally put that chapter of my life to rest and move on.”

“And which one was it?”

“Wake up call,” Y/N responds, her tone saying ‘duh, isn’t it obvious?’

Angelina gives her a grin that Y/N swears she’s seen on Fred’s face before. I guess it’s true that people in long term relationships start to mimic each other’s mannerisms.

“Then why haven’t you taken off the ring?”

Y/N groans, flopping back against the pillows. “You’re such a shithead, you know that? Fred asked me the same question at the rink the other day.”

“He did?” Angelina asks, even though the glint in her eyes tells Y/N that she already knew that. “You know I deserve an award for all the work I’ve put into that boy. He’s a different man than he was when we met, and it’s all thanks to me.”

“If anyone has changed during the course of your relationship it’s you,” Y/N teases. “You used to actually be tolerable and now you’re both insufferable idiots.”

Now Angelina is the one smacking Y/N with a pillow, hitting her softly a few times before they’re both dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

“So answer the question,” Angelina urges once they’ve calmed down. “If you and George really are over for good why are you still wearing your engagement ring?”

Y/N sighs, holding out her left hand to examine the piece of jewelry George slid onto her fourth finger. It’s everything she’s always wanted her engagement ring to be, a true reminder of how well George knows her and his dedication to do everything he can to make her happy. It’s a reminder of all the plans they’d made as teenagers, and even though it was supposed to be fake, she’d viewed it as a promise that George would make all of those other dreams come true too. 

“I guess because I don’t really want it to be over. Of course I’m pissed at George and I’m upset that he lied to me, but I want that second chance. Or maybe it’s our third chance, who the hell knows anymore. I just know that I’m not ready to say goodbye to George Weasley for good. I think he fell back in love with me too, I just don’t know how to fix this mess we’ve gotten ourselves in.”

That stupid Fred grin is back on Angelina’s face and Y/N already regrets the words that have just come out of her mouth. Fred really has rubbed off on Angelina too much, and while she doesn’t know what the plan is, the look on Angelina’s face tells Y/N that she already has one.

And she’s not really sure if that’s a good thing or not.

-

George had planned on ignoring it. 

The knocking started over twenty minutes ago, and he figured whichever of his teammates decided to try and talk some sense into him would eventually get tired and give up. But now it’s gone from simple knocking to pounding, and as much as George doesn’t want to see anyone he does have neighbors and the last thing he needs is a noise complaint to make him feel shittier than he already does. 

So he stomps to the front door, fully intent on opening it just long enough to tell whoever it is to fuck right off so he can go back to wallowing in peace. But all of that fades away, since the second he yanks the door open Olivia and Jenny are pushing their way through, forcing George to the side as they storm into his apartment. 

Adam and Thomas follow their girlfriends, but they at least have the decency to look a little ashamed of their ambush. Forcing himself to get his shit together, George takes a few deep breaths before he shuts the door and follows everyone into the living room. 

Olivia and Jenny have matching stern expressions on their faces, hands on their hips as they glare at George. 

“Sit,” Olivia commands, gesturing towards the couch. 

 It’s then that George notices no one else is sitting down, in fact the four of them have formed a half circle facing the couch where Olivia just demanded he sit. 

“What the fuck is this?” George questions as he does as he was told. “An intervention?”

“So you admit that you did something that requires intervention?”

George frowns and Jenny’s question, silently kicking himself for playing into their hand. He was ready to just spout out some bullshit to get them out of his apartment, but clearly they know something is going on and they don’t plan on leaving until they get it out of him. 

“Maybe,” he admits, the same feelings of shame and guilt creeping in when he thinks of Y/N and what happened between them. He knows he royally fucked everything up, but he’s at a loss for what to do to try and fix things between them. Y/N was clear that she regretted not fighting for their relationship last time, and George isn’t going to let himself make the same mistake. He just doesn’t know where to go from here.

All he knows is that his plan to keep his head down and focus on hockey has been a complete and utter failure. His skating has been sloppy, his puck control has gone out the window and every time he steps on the ice he’s counting down the minutes until he can go home and crawl into his sheets that still smell like Y/N. 

“Spill, now,” Olivia demands. 

And so he does. Because these people are his family, and he knows they’ve come to care about Y/N too, and if he has any shred of hope for getting Y/N back he’ll take all the help he can get. Even if it means letting everyone know what an utter idiot he’s been over the last few months. 

He starts all the way at the beginning, back when he let his insecurities get the better of him and he broke things off with Y/N. George tells them about the pain, and how he buried himself into hockey to ignore all of it, and his promise to never love another woman again. When he gets to the conversation he had Morris had in the off season and the scheme he cooked up with Fred George’s eyes drop to the floor, not wanting to see the things the others are feeling. 

George tells them about how somewhere along the way he fell in love with Y/N for real, and his sole focus became making sure she felt the same way too. He made sure to emphasize how little he cared about being named Captain, that he would have happily been benched for the rest of his career if it meant he had the girl of his dreams by his side. 

Leading them all the way up to now, how he had lied to Y/N about being named Captain so he had enough time to really be sure she’d want to make their arrangement something real. And how on the very day he planned on coming clean, his brother had accidentally spilled the beans and she discovered his lie and betrayal. He tells them all about how hurt Y/N looked that day, and how he just let her walk away. 

He keeps his eyes downcast as he finishes his story, and they all just stand there in silence. 

Until Adam laughing breaks through. 

“You’re something else, Weasel, holy shit.”

The grunt he makes when Jenny slaps his stomach makes George finally look up, and he’s surprised and relieved to see that no one looks mad at him. 

“You guys aren’t mad?”

“Oh I’m pissed that you lied to us,” Olivia starts, but there isn’t any malice in her voice. “And I’m pissed that you screwed things up with Y/N. But clearly you regret your actions and you’re hurting, so I can be pissed at you after.”

“After?”

“After we help you fix things with Y/N,” Jenny responds as if the answer is obvious. “Making you get on your knees and beg for our forgiveness is only satisfying if you don’t look like an abused puppy while you do it.”

“Gee thanks,” George huffs, rolling his eyes. But for the first time since Y/N walked out on him George feels something other than despair. 

He feels hope.

-

The first step of her new plan involves watching the final Rebel’s preseason game, even though Y/N isn’t totally sure she’s ready to see George again. Even if it is through the TV. 

But if what Fred said is true and George has isolated himself from the people around him she needs to make sure that he’s okay. That his heart is still beating and he’s still breathing. Confirmation of life, if you will. 

Again, she’s got to quit watching so much Criminal Minds. 

From the moment George steps out onto the ice it’s clear he isn’t himself. The one place George has always been sure of himself is the rink, but the man wearing his jersey is far from the confident man Y/N expected to see. As she watches him warm up it’s clear there’s no passion behind his movements, like he’s out there playing because he has to be and not because he wants to be. 

It’s the last preseason game and they’re on their own turf, George should be flying high. But from the looks of it he’d rather be anywhere but the stadium. It makes her sick, knowing that even the sport he loves isn’t enough to bring him comfort, and Y/N wishes she could make all that pain go away. 

She’s tempted to turn the TV off, she got a glimpse of him to confirm he is still in fact alive, and now can go about her evening doing just about anything else. But she can’t find it in herself to grab the remote and change the station. Despite his clear lack of enthusiasm George looks beautiful out on the ice, and she can’t look away. Y/N decides to at least watch the first period, figuring George will shake off his funk and show up for his teammates. 

Unfortunately Y/N has never been more wrong in her life. 

George misses passes that he should be able to capture in his sleep, and the few attempts he makes on goal are sloppy and miss the mark by a mile. Clearly his mind is elsewhere, and Y/N feels consumed with guilt, knowing that she’s the reason why George is acting this way. This was supposed to be their season, but how are the Rebel’s supposed to take it all the way with a Captain who’s barely holding it together. 

Luckily the Rebels manage to keep it held together until they’re halfway through the second period. Despite George’s shitty playing they’ve scored two goals, keeping them tied with New York. And as Geore skates out for his next shift he almost looks like his old self. Each of his movements are sharp and sure, and even though the camera isn’t zoomed in on his face Y/N can tell there’s a look of determination painted on it. 

She’s actually feeling hopeful that he’s managed to pull it together as George faces off against the opposing center for the puck drop. From the angle of the camera it’s apparent that New York’s center is chirping at George for the hundredth time tonight, though Y/N can’t really tell what’s being said. Luckily George is used to it, and he’s always good about ignoring the bullshit and letting their defensemen take care of it. 

Except George clearly isn’t himself, because the second the Ref blows the whistle George is dropping his gloves and taking a swing at the player across from him. Y/N gasps as blood sprays from the other player’s nose, a weird mixture of shock and arousal thrumming through her veins. 

New York’s center drops his own gloves then, and their fight is in full swing. George grabs onto his opponent’s jersey, yanking him closer so he can land another hit to his face. The Ref’s let them exchange some blows, but as their teammates start to get involved whistles start to blow, and Y/N is on the edge of her seat as George disappears under a pile of fighting hockey players. 

It takes several moments for the Refs to pull everyone apart, but since George and New York’s center were the catalysts they are the only two who receive a penalty. He only receives five minutes, and her stomach turns as a Ref leads George to the sin bin. There’s blood dripping down the corner of his mouth, and she can’t help but notice how swollen and bloody his knuckles are as he wipes it away. 

Even once his penalty is up, George doesn’t get back on the ice until the game is almost over. Luckily he’s kept his hands to himself, and that same determined glare still graces his features as he nabs the puck at the face off. The game is tied up still, and Y/N doesn’t even breathe as the Rebel’s take the puck down the ice towards New York’s goal. The clock is swiftly ticking down, and they have the opportunity to go into the regular season undefeated. 

There were about a dozen different times that Y/N considered switching the game off as she watched, too nervous to keep watching the absolute shit show going on but still feeling the need to support George, even if it’s from her couch and not the stands. But as the clock ticks down and George slaps the puck into the back of the net, scoring both his first point and the game winning point, her heart swells and she’s thankful that she stuck it out.

Because instead of joining his team in celebrating, George raises his stick towards the camera pointed at him, mouthing the words she’s gotten used to seeing again. 

“That was for you.”

Y/N doesn’t even realize she’s crying until the tears drip off of her chin and land on her lap. Despite having no idea that she’s watching, and playing the worst game of his career, George dedicated his goal to her. 

If that wasn’t enough to prove to her that what she and George had was anything but fake, the post game interview he gives leaves no room for doubt.

“You certainly weren’t playing like yourself out there, George, care to comment on what was going on tonight?”

George grunts, and Y/N can tell that the question pisses him off. “My head just wasn’t in it, but I think New York’s center knocked it back into place,” he jokes, trying to make light of the situation.

“Does it have anything to do with the mystery woman you’ve been spotted with recently? Who is this woman who managed to capture your heart and has you dedicating all of your goals to her?” Another reporter asks once called on. 

Y/N figured George is going to deflect the question just like he always does, so she’s surprised when a genuine smile takes over his scowl. 

“That mystery woman would be, Y/N. She’s the woman who always pushes me to be the best version of myself, the only voice I hear in my head when I’m out on the ice. The woman that I love.” 

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat at his honest answer, and her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest as George looks dead into the camera and continues. 

“Baby if you’re watching, and God I really hope you are or I’m about to make a fool of myself on national television, I’m so sorry. I messed up, and I plan on spending every day of the rest of my life making it up to me if you’ll let me. I love you, please come home.”

Suddenly there isn’t a doubt in her mind: George Weasley is completely and irrevocably in love with her and Y/N isn’t going to stop until he knows that she feels the same. 

-

George feels like he might pass out. 

It’s been a little over a week since he confessed his love for Y/N on national television and he hasn’t heard a peep from her. He figures it’s because she wasn’t watching the game, because he can’t bear to think that her silence is because she doesn’t feel the same. That’s a depressive spiral he doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with. 

Instead he’s focused on the plan he, Olivia and Jenny came up with. He plans on saying the exact same thing during his post game interview tonight, win or lose, and if that doesn’t work he’ll be on a flight to Washington next week in between games to make his love declaration in person. 

George may have joked last week that fighting with New York’s Center knocked his head back on right, but there was some actual truth to that statement. Because he had been playing like shit, and after the fight the only thing he could think of is how upset Y/N would be if she were watching the game. Not only was he playing like shit, but he was acting like an asshole and letting his whole team down, and that version of George he wants her to see. Olivia and Jenny had helped him get his priorities straight and figure out how he needed to start mending things with Y/N, but it was up to him to actually put that plan into place. And playing like shit and getting into fights was not the way to do that.

Y/N truly is constantly pushing George to be the best version of himself, because he wants to be the guy who deserves to be loved by someone as amazing as her. And it really is her voice in his head out there on the ice, because succeeding in his career is going to allow him to give Y/N the life she deserves. And he really does love her, more than he’s ever loved anything. 

He’s done feeling sorry for himself, he knows what he wants and he’s not going to stop until he gets it. 

The first part of that involved a huge apology to his team, and a promise that he’s done being a fuckhead and he’ll be on the top of his game when they skate out onto that ice tonight. It’s the first game of the season and it’s at home: a lethal combination and anything other than a crushing defeat of the other team is not an option. 

Especially when Coach comes into the locker room before warmups, getting ready to make the big announcement that they’ve all been waiting for. 

“Alright, settle down, settle down.” Morris’ voice booms out, causing everyone to instantly quiet. “Now after Crawford retired I know there’s been lots of whispers about who would take his place as Captain. And a lot of time and effort has gone into this decision, it’s not something anyone has taken lightly, especially the man who we’ve chosen for the job. I’ve watched this man work endlessly to be the best player out on the ice for years, and recently I’ve seen him work just as hard to be the best man off of the ice too. Which is why I’m honored to announce the next Captain of the Rebels, number thirteen, George Weasley.”

The team whoops and cheers as George makes his way over to where Morris is standing, a brand new jersey with a capital C in his hands. The guys slap his back and ruffle his hair as he goes, and he feels overwhelmed with how much the team cares and supports him. He shakes Morris’ hand before taking the jersey from him, holding it up for all of the guys to see. 

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Thomas starts chanting, with Adam joining in. Pretty soon half the team is shouting, and George waves his hand to quiet them down. 

“Jesus, fuck you guys are annoying,” he teases as they start to settle down. “I just wanna start by thanking Coach and everyone who made this decision, it honestly was an honor just to even be considered. This team is my family, and I’m ready to fight alongside all of you this season to bring that Cup home. So let’s get out there on that ice and show them what it means to be a Rebel!”

The team gets rowdy again as George takes off his old jersey, slipping the new one over his gear. It’s gametime then, and as they all line up to exit the tunnel George feels more ready than he ever has. This is going to be their season, and he’ll have Y/N fighting right alongside him if he has anything to say about it. 

The announcer’s booming voice echoes through the tunnel as he announces Texas’ team, and the boys start to bounce around as it gets closer and closer to being their turn out onto the ice. One by one as their names are called the guys flood out onto the ice, ramped up by the loud cheers radiating throughout the stadium. 

Like usual George is last in line, and as he gets closer and closer to stepping out onto the ice he takes a deep breath, silently praying that Y/N is watching. 

“And you’re starting Center and new team Captain number thirteen George Weasley!”

The screams are deafening as George steps out onto the ice, joining the team in their starting lap around the ice. He lets his eyes scan out over the crowd, just taking a moment to let everything sink in. Everything he’s worked for has been leading up to this, and he wants to commit it all to memory. The only thing that would make this night better is knowing that Y/N is there in the crowd to cheer him on too. 

Which is why he has to do a double take as they make their way past home bench, because even though he’s sure about what he saw it may have just been a trick of the lights he needs to be sure. And sure enough when he looks again, three rows back sandwiched between Olivia and Jenny is Y/N, a huge grin on her face as their eyes lock. 

George stops in his tracks at the sight of her, barely able to comprehend how she’s here. 

“Hey Captain!” Y/N shouts, though George reads it from her lips. His mouth drops open as Y/N stands up and turns around, showing off the jersey she has on. Because embroidered above the large number thirteen on the center of her back are the words, Mrs. Weasley. 

He can barely believe his eyes, and just as he’s about to throw himself over the boards to get to her Thomas is grabbing the back of his jersey, pulling him towards center ice so they can line up for the national anthem. 

“Chill your shit, lover boy! You can make up with your woman later, we’ve got a game to win!”

George spares Y/N one last look before he follows behind Thomas, slipping into a state of complete and utter focus. Because with his girl in the stands, wearing their last name, winning is the only option. 

-

George has never hated all the bullshit that comes with being a professional athlete more than he does right now. Usually he doesn’t mind all the media and the post game discussions, but knowing that Y/N is somewhere in this arena waiting for him makes George want to crawl out of his skin to get to her. 

Luckily, after what feels like an eternity he’s storming out of the locker room, his dress shirt barely buttoned up and soaking wet from his hair that he didn’t take the time to dry. He doesn’t care that he probably looks like a crazed animal, all he cares about is getting to her. Which is why he doesn’t realize how familiar the voice that’s calling his name is, and he doesn’t notice the person running full speed at him is Y/N until she’s practically right there in front of him.

He barely has time to drop the hockey bag slung over his shoulder and open his arms before Y/N is barrelling into him so hard it takes all of his strength and balance to keep them upright. Her face presses into the juncture of his neck while her arms twine around it, and George immediately wraps his own around her middle. He grips her tightly as Y/N hooks her legs around his hips, letting her warmth seep into his chest. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, nose pressed to her hair as he takes a deep breath in. His knees start to quiver from how good she smells, and George squeezes her even tighter. “You’re here, I can’t believe it.”

Y/N pulls away so she can look at George, the huge smile on her face reflected back at her on his. “How could I not be? Not after you asked me to come back home on national television.”

George chuckles, his cheeks flushing. “So you did see that, huh? When I didn’t hear from you afterwards I thought maybe you missed it. Or you saw it and it didn’t change anything for you.”

“I did see it, and it didn’t change anything for me.” The look that takes over George’s face makes her stomach sink, and Y/N twists her fingers in the damp hair at the back of his head. “Because I was already planning on coming back home to you, George. George Weasley I have loved you since I was six years old and you let me drag you down to the ice every time I stumbled and fell down. Even the time we spent apart did nothing to squash how much I love you. The whole reason I agreed to be your fake fiancé is because I hoped this could be our second chance at a future together. And the second I walked out of that door I wanted to turn around and run right back to you. I let you get away from me once and I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake twice.”

“Baby,” George breathes, tipping his head down so their foreheads are pressed together. “I am “so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you that night about what Coach and I talked about. I was scared that I was running out of time, and you’d be back on a plane to Washington before I could tell you the truth. I love you, Y/N, and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too.”

She squeals as George suddenly spins them in a circle, not stopping until her back is pressed against the wall and she’s pinned beneath him. George leans in, just barely letting their lips touch. 

“Say it again.”

Y/N grins. “I love you, George.”

Finally George leans in and kisses her, their mouths fitting together so perfectly it’s as if they were made to match. Some of his teammates have started to filter out, but neither of them cares about the whoops and hollers that start to surround them. George’s kiss is possessive and claiming, and Y/N finds herself whining as he breaks them apart. 

“We better head down to the courthouse tomorrow,” George murmurs, earning him a shocked giggle. 

“And why is that?”

“Well according to that jersey you’re wearing, you’re Mrs. Weasley,” George teases, nudging their noses together. “And I’m done with all of the faking and the lies, aren’t you?”

Y/N nods, sighing in relief when George kisses her again. “Yeah, I am.”

[possibilistfanfiction]

More surgeon suffering pls! Maybe bea learning more about Ava’s injury?

[definitely sooo gentle & no present-day suffering lol but here u go]

//

‘you can ask.’

beatrice’s gentle, callused, careful fingers still along your back, their patterns you can’t quite decipher gone quiet. ‘i would never do that.’

her voice is so soft and so relaxed, it’s not at all a reprimand; you can’t say it aloud, not yet, but you love her. you roll over so that you can see the gentle planes of her face through the silvery-blue light from the moon and the night outside her big windows, the blinds not yet drawn. she looks at you openly, patiently, like there’s nothing she wants to take from you; everything she wants to give. you know — in your heart and through your friends and your family and your therapist telling you over and over again — that you have so much to offer: you’re beautiful and funny and very smart, and you love the world more than anyone you know. you also know that beatrice is sometimes less sure of herself than she seems: she clams up every time her parents call, unable to tell them to, unequivocally if it was up to you, fuck off; she loves to be lazy and sleep in and wants no one to know; she still is in the habit of downplaying accomplishments, anything from a surgery she mastered (impressive in that you know how hard it is) to a new route she climbed at the gym (you have no idea but lilith was jealous and you can imagine it’s hot); she’s a horrible cook.

‘i know,’ you say, and you do. you let a finger drift down the bridge of her nose, count her freckles, feel the chapped bow of her lips beneath your thumb. she has a scar, small, through her left brow, and you trace it. ‘what’s this from?’

she smiles, always so quick to understand, always so generous. it makes you feel like you could light up the entire world sometimes. ‘i was five; my brothers were trying to teach me how to rollerblade.’

you think about it: beatrice’s gap-toothed grin and the delightfully terrible bob haircut she had for so much of her early childhood, the photos making you laugh when, unprompted, lilith showed you a few weeks ago when you’d all had dinner at a good oyster place near bea’s house. ‘can you rollerblade now?’

‘no, it frightened me. i never learned.’

‘putting that on the short list of things that scare you. good to know.’

she holds up her right arm so you can see the small scar on her elbow, the skin darker than before. ‘at university, i was drunk and my crush dared me to climb a tree.’

you can’t help the laugh it pulls out of you. ‘oh my.’

she nods. ‘yes, quite. needless to say, amelia and i went our separate ways fairly soon after.’

‘well, her loss. i’d have paid to see you fall out of a tree.’

‘i didn’t fall,’ she says. ‘i scraped my elbow on the way up, but i did continue.’

‘of course you did.’

she shrugs. you trace the scars across her chest, ones you love. 

‘camila told me you tried to go back to classes a week after your surgery. like, the day after you got your drains out.’

bea laughs. ‘yes, and promptly fell fast asleep about three minutes in.’

‘front row?’

‘well, the second.’

‘knew it.’

‘i can keep going, if you like. i have a good story about a scraped knee during field hockey at boarding school.’

‘homoerotic, i hope.’

she rolls her eyes, but based on her silence you know you’re right.

she lets you sit in it, easily, and her house is beautiful and warm and, you’re beginning to think — to hope — it might be full of your things one day, too. it’s easier to be brave here, but your words, the worst of them, still get stuck in your throat. ‘well, what do my scars tell you?’

she weighs it. ‘you know i’m more interested in cardio.’

‘you’re the smartest person i’ve ever met.’

‘well, you favor your left hand when you’re practicing sutures, and i know your left foot gets numb often. you have trouble with temperature regulation and walking long distances, but an easier time standing for the most part; your neck aches, i think all the time.’ she pauses. ‘your handwriting is abysmal, although i suspect that has nothing to do with your injuries.’

you’re about to start crying, but she makes things lighter, even now.

‘all i care about, ava,’ she says, soft and sure, a hand tangled in your hair and then gentle on your cheek, ‘is that you get the care you need, that you tell someone — me or anyone else who can help. and you can tell me whatever you like, if ever you feel ready.’

‘i can’t — i want to.’

she kisses your forehead. ‘like i said. it’ll always be up to you. i’m here.’

you take a deep breath. ‘my mom had a garden,’ you say. ‘she died, uh —‘ you get a little caught, stuck on the way her eyes looked when she wasn’t alive anymore, when you couldn’t move, when you were stuck for so long, screaming and so, so scared — ‘she grew all kinds of vegetables.’ your voice shakes but beatrice only nods. ‘and flowers. we were going to —‘ you sniffle and beatrice just wipes your tears — ‘i think she wanted to keep bees. i don’t even know if that was possible; we had a little yard. but everything grew.’

‘that sounds wonderful.’

‘it was, even though i hated eating my vegetables.’

beatrice laughs softly, admonishing in a way that’s harmless, fond. ‘you’ve grown so much since then.’

‘hey, i’ll have you know just today i ate, like, seven bites of a salad.’

‘very impressive.’

‘can i — not right now, because i think i’ll just cry too much, but — can i tell you more about her? i wish you could’ve met her.’ i wish i could remember her more; i can’t forget.

‘i would love that. and, if she was anything like you, i’m sure she would’ve lit up an entire room. it would’ve been an honor.’

‘bea, i really don’t want to cry again,’ you whine.

‘you should know,’ she tells you, a little firm, so there’s no argument. ‘she would be so proud of you. i know it; who wouldn’t be?’

‘that’s —‘ you bury your face in her neck, just for a moment, soft and warm and safe. 

‘would you like to plant a garden?’

‘in my tiny ass apartment?’

‘no,’ she says, and you can’t see her but you can practically feel her rolling her eyes. ‘here. i have the whole back yard and, frankly, no real interest in a lawn.’

‘i —‘ you back up so you can look at her, and her eyes are clear. ‘really?’

‘of course. i’m actually quite interested in self-sustaining agriculture, and the pacific northwest has great growing conditions for so much wonderful flora and fauna.’

‘wow. okay, but — it’s your house.’

she pauses. ‘ava.’

‘i just — you’re sure?’

‘i would really enjoy it, if you’d like. also, my friend marco, from the climbing gym, runs the community garden in their neighborhood and has been pestering me to meet you.’

‘you talk about me?’

‘of course.’

‘well, if marco will do all the heavy lifting, and preferably both of you not have shirts on, i’m so in.’

‘it’s february.’

you shrug. ‘you’re tough.’

beatrice laughs, and you sink into it, delight in it. you could light up the whole world, ava, she told you after two glasses of wine and half an edible the other night, entirely serious, crammed onto the small couch in your small apartment, your life expanding far beyond, past any walls you knew. 

‘next weekend, when we’re both off,’ she says, ‘we can go to the nursery nearby and get started.’

‘you’re —‘ the love of my life sits right on the tip of your tongue, but you kiss her instead. ‘thank you.’

‘thank you for telling me about your garden, and your mother.’

all you can do is nod, and then hold her after she turns over and falls asleep.

[mytheoristavenue]

GOTG Yandere!Rocket Raccoon x Reader - The Things I'd Do

Summary: After a mission goes ary, ending with you badly injured, you become hyper aware of Rocket's violent tendencies.

Warnings: mentions of violence, character death, revenge killing, one sided love, yandere!Rocket, overprotective!Rocket, heavy angst, not proof read

God, did your head hurt. Actually, you hadn't had a migrane this bad in a long time, certainly not since you stopped drinking so much. This was no hangover, though. Your vision was blurry, and you were tired and light headed. This was a concussion, and a pretty severe one at that. Trying to crane your neck, you took in your surroundings; the ship's infirmary. How did you get here? You could hardly remember anything, other than going on a simple mission.

"(Y/N)..." a timid voice called from the entrance to the room. "You're awake..."

"M-Mantis...?" you croaked, straining to fully sit up, only to have her rush over and worriedly push you back down.

"No, no, please stay lying down!" she fretted in a hushed tone. "You are very hurt, you have to rest."

Reluctantly, you laid your head back down fully. "Can't be that bad," you joked weakly, eyes suddenly flickering to the machinery all around you. You weren't sure how you hadn't caught on until now, but there were needles supplying various things straight to your veins, wires monitoring your vitals, and your breathing was assisted by a mask. "I-It's not that bad, right?" The woamn stood quiet, somberly gazing at her feet. "Right, Mantis?"

"You are on life supposrt." she finally confessed, glancing up at you through her lashes for a second before looking away again. "We weren't sure you would make it..."

"How long has it been?" you finally asked, facing dead ahead, too stunned to even train your sight on her anymore.

"Two weeks and four days." she replied, still stiff as a board. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just came to check on you..."

"Don't be sorry," you finally said, cracking a sad smile. "I'm glad you're here, come here me get outta all this stuff, will ya?"

For a split second, her face lit up with the same joy it usually had and she made a motion towards you, before reaching out, only to fall short. Her expression suddenly morphed into panic and she back away from you at the sound of light footsteps. When the door opened to reveal what she must've been so affraid of, you were left with more questions than answers.

"Mantis," he barked, inhaling an irritated breath. "What did I say about this room?"

"N-No one in or out but you..." she stuttered, crumpling herself up in a corner, far away from both you and him.

"So you do understand, you just choose to go behind my back? Is that it?" Rocket's fur stoof on end with aggitation, which grew taller by the second.

"N-No, Peter asked me to-"

"I don't give a fuck what Quill said, get the fuck outta here before I-" his blood suddenly ran could, robbing him of all his anger and harsh words, giving her time to escape weeping. "You're awake." With that, you held his full attention as he padded closer to you, a weak grin splitting his face as he reached your hedside, hoping up on a stool to be closer toy our level.

You on the other hand were not as overjoyed to see him as he was you. You had shot up to sit, hugginy our knees during his outburst, having never heard him that upset. You'd seen Rocket angry- furious even- tons of times, but this was...malice and it was so unlike him. "Rocket...why did you yell at Mantis like that..." you asked in a cautous whsiper.

"I'm sorry ya had to see that, doll," he started, reaching both hands out to cup your cheeks. "I just been in here takin' care of ya and I didn't want anybody to screw anything up." he explained, taking on a gentle tone as one of his thumbs stroked your cheek. "I keep tellin' 'em to stay outta here but nobody ever listens to me."

"Rocket, you were really mean to her...you really should apologize." You pressed, wiggling away form his touch. "She was just worried and checking up on me."

Rocket sighed, sctraching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, doll, when you're right, you're right. I'll find her later." he relented, hoping down and scurrying over to a nearby table to pick up the tablet that had been collecting all the data on your condition. "So, how ya feelin'?"

"Not great," you admitted. "I have a really bad headache and..." It suddenly occoured to you to try and get more information about what had happened from him. "Hey, since you've been the one taking care of me, why am I on life support?"

"Well, i couldn't just let you die, could I?" he asked rhetorically with a laugh. "Honestly, you should be thanking you for bringing you back."

"Back from where." you muttered, more as a command than a question. He chuckled nonchalantly in responce, mimicking you while shaking his head. "Rocket." you warned sternly, making him halt, rolling his eyes as he turned to face you. "Where did you bring me back from?"

"Well..." he shifted awkwardly in place, rubbing the back of his neck. "You were dead." he finally confesed, blowing right past the revellation into more gruesome detail. "You had to fuck around and get your head beat in so I had to go in and..." His voice trailed off as your focus pulled away, horror washing over you. You had never been relgious, but you knew now that this was wrong. Your skin felt like it wasn't in place and your heart begin to feel like it didn't belong to you.

Rocket- someone you trusted- had gone and dragged you back from the dead, played God, who knows what else? You began to fold in on yourself, pulling your knees back to your chest in discomfort as your stare seems miles away. He could recognize the symmtoms of your oncoming panic attack before you could and he reached out to you, scurrying closer.

"Hey, Hey, don't go and freak out on me ok?" he urged, hopping up on the bed with you. "Try not to think about it too much, you're alive after all." He continued to talk while you mentally checked out, your mind entirely broken as you studied the skin on your hand. "And this is just the half of it." he said. "You shoulda seen how many of those knuckleheads I took out for you."

It was at this moment, while Rocket began to curl up in the crevice of your side that you noticed: In the reflective surface of a nearby tool tray, one of your eyes had changed color and the was nopciable scarring covering the largest portion of your face.

"Killin, takin' care of you. You got no idea the things I'd do for you, doll face."