#but when i'm home and on my laptop it's way too easy to pop open a tab

[marshmellowtea]

idly thinking here but honestly i think if this blog went down then i'd just be done with tumblr forever. like.....that's it. this is the blog i've had for as long as i've had a tumblr account, i'm not built like the people who can start again and remake over and over again. it'd be a sign that i just need to be done with this website for good i think.

[lunarpanda]

So about Pokemon Sweet 2th.

I honestly had a good time playing it and seeing all the funny sprite edits the mod team did, there's some good shit in here and the fact they included Pancham in the game is really excellent to me<3 Finally got to use my most favorite little guy in a hot minute<3

But there's a couple things that really could've gone better.

Like the level scaling kinda sucks. It's kinda open world, depending on what starter you chose you go a different path between a forest/an island/a cave and all the Pokemon there are around level 5-6 until the first gym and the strongest Pokemon at the gym is like level 20. I think that might be a little too high especially for the first gym. I'm looking at a couple first gym leaders from the official games and most of their ace Pokemon were level 15 which seems more acceptable. In addition, when I went ahead to go train on higher level Pokemon there is an unskippable rival battle where both rivals have 3 level 20 or so Pokemon so I couldn't get some better grinding in so I had to keep grinding with level 5-6 Pokemon outside the cave entrance. I guess it's nitpicky but still like I shouldn't be struggling first thing in the game you know.

Also the game doesn't really scale with you either. Like you go to the two other towns you couldn't access with your starter and they're basically the same level as you would challenge them if you picked that particular starter. It might not be so bad when you can sweep them away and get some easy exp but still.

I wish the grass was a little more involved? If that makes sense. It feels like the only places that force you to have encounters are caves/oceans. I think a good game would make you go through a little more grass.

Also the type chart doesn't really make sense to me. AFAIK Vanilla/Chocolate/Strawberry seems to be a regular type triangle but the other types I got no clue on. I had to guess and remember... I wish the game was a little more intuitive on what beats what. I did see there is a type chart on here but still... At least have the gym guides say "hey this beats this, memorize that" (I found the type chart like way too late in the game so I guess that's my own fault for not looking it up... still...)

Oh and the game's like... pretty glitchy. When interacting with a couple things such as a letter one an NPC's table it gave me a pop up and I couldn't do anything else and had to restart from my last save. Same with a couple of Rock Smash boulders I found in the caves.

Another glitch I got was the fact that since I used a Musharna that had Magic Bounce a couple of moves locked me into an animation/ability loop so I had to restart whenever I got that. Particularly when Delcatty used Sing, the notes kept bouncing around in an endless loop with no end. Gave it a minute and nothing changed. Same thing when I tried to battle Jynx in the final area. The Trace against Magic Bounce ability can ruin the battle if it decides to use Sweet Kiss.

I think one time the game closed by itself when I wasn't paying attention but IDK if that was because of the game or if it's because I nudged my laptop track pad and it closed... Jury's still out on that one. (This shit finnicky)

And like the last thing. I was in a cave trying to catch a couple legendaries and I could not leave. Like at all. I try to enter the door, couldn't leave. Tried to use an escape rope and the entire Professor Oak message played so I'm trapped in that location forever unless I restart. So yeah... that's basically where I left my character off since she can't go back home. I don't think I can Fly back home since I'm in a cave.

Another nitpick I have. I know it's to make the game a little bit challenging and stuff but I don't think the gym trainers should be battling you on site after you leave the building. Like yeah it's good for grinding but there is one instance where you're in the gym with the invisible walls and if you get caught by the first trainer there he blocks your way and you can't progress into the gym unless you go out and come back in again. Like IDK if that was deliberate or not but it's a pain in the ass not to get caught by that guy...

And one more tiny little thing that doesn't really particularly impact story or progression or anything is the fact that the Dex isn't fully original. Most entries are just unedited and don't really make a lot of sense with the Pokemon presented. For example, Snivy's entire line is just Pichu's, Cleffa's and Igglybuff's entries rather than being anything new.

Other than a lot of that stuff I did have fun with the game don't get me wrong. I enjoyed what I played but there's just a lot that really could be better. IDK if like the devs would want to improve on the game since the last patch was 2017 but still. It's very much a play if you want to kinda game but I think it might be better to watch someone play through it unless you really really want to.

[strawberryhierophant]

On the Ceiling

It's amazing how almost nobody looks up. And why would they? Really. I mean, they're so wrapped up in their own bullshit.

I always see them come in, lugging books or bags, or both. First thing they do when they enter, all of them, is search the place with their eyes.

Is my favorite table taken? Is there a place with an outlet? I need my computer charged to 100% at all times. I want the window seat.

Most of them need it to be quiet. Students, mainly, but you get the occasional suit taking a break from the office, coming out to enjoy the crowd. But all of them, whoever they are, come to do work. So if it's too packed, too noisy, usually they'll leave without even bothering for a to-go coffee.

The rest stay. They claim real estate, spreading their belongings as widely as they can. In one chair, they'll drop their bag. In another, a jacket. They buy not just coffee but snacks, and they spread everything all over their tables just like you'd spread food on a blanket at a picnic, all over the damn place. I wonder how filthy their homes look, some of them, they leave behind such a god damn mess. I'm glad I don't have to clean it up. I just watch from up here.

Now, I said almost nobody looks up. Some do. But even then, you'd be surprised. They actually look away.

First time it happened I was new to it all. I'd just moved here. I'm sure you don't even notice it anymore, being from here and all, but to me, i thought it was funny. Everything's a repurposed warehouse, even the apartments. Maybe it's a city thing, I don't know. Either way, when I got here, the thing that got me was, why would you spend so much time renovating an old warehouse and just leave the ceiling like that? All beams and ductwork, iron and sheet metal, just hanging overhead. Looks dangerous, if you think about it, like the whole thing could collapse on you.

I mean, you clear out this big space, fill it with new furniture and redo all the brick. You install some new lights. Then you go and name the place some shit like Bodega Noir Coffee and Workspace to attract the hip clientele. But you never bother to change the old warehouse ceiling. You just slap a coat of black paint on the the overhang like you ran out of money at the last minute and you're hoping nobody looks up. Which, like I said, mostly they don't.

The first time someone noticed me, I was new, like I said. To be honest, I don't know what put the idea in my head. Mainly, I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it. I'd done some urbex before. I had some friends who'd done a little phrogging. You never heard of that? Look it up. It's wild. Anyway, I guess the idea just popped into my head thinking about all this stuff. I guess really I should tell you about how it happened the first time.

It was that big coffee shop by the railroad tracks. You know the big one with the small shops in the back? The one with the really high ceiling? Well I ended up there randomly. Turned out I'd shown up on a day when the shops were all closed. That whole back area was dark. Nobody around. I was about to head back to the counter and grab a cup of coffee when I realized how nobody was even looking up. Everyone had a laptop open looking so damned absorbed.

So I scaled the wall. Easy as shit. I had a little experience climbing. Like I said, urbex.

Anyway, I'm expecting someone to say something. I get all the way to the crossbeams and sit my happy ass down. Look down. Everyone's still got their faces in a computer screen. Not even the baristas noticed me. I sat there for a good while before I decided to hop down. Laughed it off. But the next day i went back and did it again. This time the shops were open. But the workers were all on their phones, or counting registers, or doing inventory. None of them noticed me.

Before long I realized that, so long as I found a good spot and didn't move too much, I could stay up in the ceiling pretty much all day, just sitting on the crossbeams, Indian Style as we used to say.

Now, I've always been quick. I saw the possibilities right away. I applied at a few of these coffee shops, stayed just long enough to learn the entry codes, or to make copies of the keys, then made up some excuse about a "big job" that I had to take, and split. From there, it was just a matter of showing up after everyone had left and I'd stay overnight in the place. In the morning, I'd watch the place fill up, then hop down and make friendly with the staff. I'm good with people. Most of them liked me. I got some free drinks out of that.

Anyway, the point is this: the first time someone actually saw me. That shit scared me, if I'm honest. But in a good way. Exhilarating, I guess, like skydiving. I've never been, but I can imagine.

So this place is like all the rest. Hip decor, big empty space, and those ugly warehouse ceilings with all the sheet metal ductwork and iron crossbeams. I'm up in the ceiling. I'm looking at this guy for some reason. He reminded me of someone. Suddenly, he looks up. We make eye contact. He sees me. I mean, no doubt in my mind he sees me. I freeze. I feel scared. Exhilarating. I think something's about to happen, right? He's gonna tell the baristas. Maybe he's gonna scream. Shit, maybe he'll pull out a gun, I don't know.

You know what he did? I mean I already spoiled it already, telling you earlier, but he didn't do anything. He just looked away. He pretended he didn't see me. I watched him first look out the window, then look back at his computer. He pretended to work for a few minutes. I didn't take my eyes off him. I couldn't. Finally, this guy looks around the shop. He gets up, stuffs his laptop into his bag, and gives me one last look. A quick one. Then he skedaddles. I mean, he knows I'm there and he doesn't even tell anyone.

What did I feel? Confused, yeah. But more, I was angry. I mean, that sorta person is just a liar, aren't they? He saw me, I know he did, and he told himself he didn't. He lied. I was so damn mad. I knew people were self-absorbed. But that shit really was another level.

Well, he never came back. I only ever saw him once more. And he saw me. And he couldn't pretend anymore. I made sure of it that time.

From then on, I found myself hoping that someone to look at me. I waited and waited for it to happen again. Sometimes I was sure someone was, but then I'd look and the person's eyes would be fixed on the computer screen. You can feel when someone's eyes touch you, you know. They've actually done studies. It's a real thing. I began to feel it, but I could never catch the person in the act. I realized after a while, that if I closed my eyes and paid real hard attention I could tell where the eyes were, the ones that were looking at me.

And so I began to pick them out, one by one. I'd wait for them to leave. They'd still be pretending not to see me. Just like I said before. Liars, all of them.

Most of them lived near the coffee shops they visited. They walked. I followed. I found where they lived. These old warehouses provide lots of cover. I came back after dark. You pick up a lot of little tricks for sneaking into places doing urbex.

And the rest you know. I plucked out the eyes. For lying. Because they looked right at me and looked away.

But what you want to know is where they are. You found the eyes. Where are the bodies? Haven't you been listening? God damn it. It's funny. People are a fucking joke.

Nobody ever looks up.

- Writing Practice 3/16

[pinkcherryblossomangel]

Away from home - chapter 4

Y/N is an actress, filming for her first lead role in the film adaptation of her favourite childhood book, produced by maximum effort.

She bonds with Ryan Reynolds over their share Love of the Korean pop band Stray Kids, and he has a surprise for her.

When she starts missing home and the darkness creeps upon her, her hotel neighbour comes to her rescue.

Trigger warnings- mentions of depression, self harm and anxiety

Stray kids fan fic

Mainly staring 3ratcha

But the other boys do make appearances it's just easy to keep to minimum of characters lol

Chan x oc

This is my first ever fan fiction so if it's shit soz.

He's gonna be here in like 20 minutes, so I'm cleaning up my room. Well shoving things into my wardrobe, but that's practically the same thing. I get dressed in some comfy clothes, and organise all my character work and script work on the table. I have a lot of thoughts about Tabby and her story. She's allowed me to tap into something more confident and almost powerful. I need to be more like her.

There's a knock at the door. He's five minutes early. I look through the peephole and there he is. Dressed all in black with his laptop and files. He looks so gorgeous. I hype myself up before opening the door. Don't fuck this up Y/N. You've got this!

"Hey!" I say it just a bit too loud, but he walks into my room ignoring that.

"Hey" He smiles. I lead him to the coffee table and sofa in my room. We sit down, our knees touching. That damned spark again.

"So ive had a read through the script and i think i understand most of the subtext theres a few places where id love your help!" He starts rifling through his copy of the script, hes marked places he thinks would be best paired with something unique. It looks like my script, all covered in highlighter and markings. I cant help but smile at how much he seems to be enjoying this job.

"Can i just ask why you took the job?". I ask, "not that youre not equipped for it, its just im sure you and the kids are always busy." He shifts in his seat to face me.

"I loved doing deadpool. And Ryan asked if we'd like to this film and we read the script and loved it. Unfortunately only the 3 of us could find the time to make it out here. Minho and seungmin have long-standing MCing jobs, I.Ns filming his acting debut," he leans in,"which you didn't hear from me. Hyunjin is creating a fashion line with versace, and Felix has gone back to Australia for a few months."

"Didn't you want to join him? Felix, I mean. Go back home and enjoy being with your family?" I ask

"A part of me did Yeah, but my sister Hannah's out here anyway and I've planned to see her a few times. She may even spend sometime on set with us if I can sort that out."

"Oh I'd love that!! Weirdly enough I actually found your guys music through Hannah's YouTube channel. People kept mentioning her brother so I checked out your music. Think Maniac may have been the first song I listened too." I admitted.

"I was gonna ask you about that actually. I heard you and Ryan bonded over your love of our music?"

"Yeah", I said shyly. "Kind of embarrassing, but yeah. During preproduction rehearsal for the dance scenes we'd blast your music for warm up. We actually almost used Thunderous for one of the dance routines!"

"You were really good before by the way. I forgot to say before. Me, Han and Changbin all thought you could give danceracha a run for their money." I blush. I don't know if this is him flirting but I bloody hope it is

"That's very sweet of you," for what feels like hours, but is merely seconds we hold eye contact. He then looks down at my lips and back to my eyes. I must be imagining that.

"You know what you want?" I break the gaze by pulling out the hotels room service menu.

The next few hours we spend talking about the script and characters. It feels like we've known each other for ages. He's so inspiring with his passion for his job, he's fueling the passion I have for my own. Everything we say in agreement, totally understanding the story in the same way. Dissecting the relationships and themes with such glee.

It's almost midnight by the time he leaves. I walk him to his door, a total of 4 steps from my own.

"Goodnight," i say, "I had a lot of fun!"

"Me too" He replies opening his door. "What time is your call time tomorrow?" He asks leaning against the door frame.

"Keith's picking me up at 9" I reply

"I'll message Sara to say I'm joining you, if that's cool with you?" He queries, running his hand through his slightly curly hair.

"I meet you out here at 8:50?"

"It's a date. Goodnight Y/N."

"Goodnight Christopher"

"I like that. You using my full name."

"I'll keep that in mind". We kind of just hang there in our respective door frames.

"Goodnight....I think that's the 3rd time I've said that." I laugh "ill see you in the morning" He nods and we close our doors.

I go to my bed and ring my mum to tell her about everything that's just happened. She answers but can't stay on the call for long, she's about to head off to work. I hate time differences.

[onlylovingstrangers]

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Tsukishima hates summer. The grass is too green and the days burn too long.

Around him, the world is too alive. Kids skirt their way around trees and convenience stores and beaches. Friends work in air conditioned cubicles, convening for drinks later at night. Partners return home in that luxurious and honey-drenched hour to happy lips.

Tsukishima knows, he used to be one of them. He remembers because he’ll never again taste a love that sweet.

+

“You need to eat, at least,” Hinata is hissing in his ear.

Tsukishima distantly recognizes that he’s been leading such a remote lifestyle that, due to the foreign quality of sound, his friend’s voice takes some amount of time to process. By the time he finds the right syllables to compose his response — “I am eating” — the orange-haired man is already recoiling in despair.

“You’ve given up on yourself,” he accuses. “Kageyama is worried about you too, you know. Even though he pretends not to give a shit. He sent you a care package yesterday using express mail and you know he never leaves his house unless it's for the gym.”

The brass quality of Hinata’s voice combined with the image of Kageyama sulkily lugging a carton to an Italian post office overwhelms Tsukishima for a moment and he has to close his eyes and rest his head against the doorframe of his bedroom.

By the time he opens his eyes, Hinata’s tone has switched to alarm mode. “—kishima? Tsukishima?”

“I’m here,” he grumbles into the receiver, but it comes out all waspish like he’s sick.

“Oh my god,” he can hear the other man mutter to himself, before moving onto more cheerful topics like describing how rowdy work is at the moment or what Yachi and Ennoshita’s new baby looks like. Tsukishima follows along as best as he can and hums into the little intervals that Hinata leaves open for response.

The call doesn’t go completely without incident. “Listen,” Hinata starts cautiously, but Tsukishima cuts it off at the root.

“Let’s not talk about her.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” Tsukishima says, and lets his hand fall so he won’t hear what Hinata says in response.

+

When Tsukishima awakens, it is to the gently discordant rush of running water.

This sound is easy enough to place in his memory. You laughing as he rinses blood off your finger. Kei, I'm fine! Let me get back to the soup! You calling him over for chores, only because you want to gossip, always claiming the easier job for yourself. Kei, you wash and I dry! You humming while watering your plants. Kei, this basil is growing bee-yoo-ti-fally. Bee-yoo-ti-fully, he had corrected, and you’d flicked water at him. And then thanked him.

For a minute, he forgets his bearings, and he bleats out your name sleepily. “Leave the dishes. Lie down with me.” He smiles when he registers footsteps coming his way…

No. Those aren’t your footsteps. Tsukishima’s eyes snap open and he clutches at the velvet material of the sofa. His gaze travels up a pair of socked feet, cargos, a t-shirt, and lands right on Yamaguchi’s freckled nose. It refuses to go any further. Tsukishima is afraid of what he’ll find in his best friend’s eyes.

A dry silence festers between the two still bodies until one suddenly snaps into motion. “Tsukki! I have the day off and nobody to hang out with so I thought I’d pop in, I brought my laptop so we can watch movies, I even ordered takeout! And you won't believe it—the guy running the store is—was one of the Miya twins! And get this—he recognized me from our match!”

Tsukishima gets the sensation that he’s just been pelted with a hundred pieces of hail.

By the time he manages to murmur: “That’s nice,” Yamaguchi has already made himself comfortable on the couch next to Tsukishima, leaning forward to place the laptop on the coffee table. The smell of rice permeates the living room. As the gaudy opening music of some American film pours out tinny speakers, Tsukishima is hit with a sudden lethargy, one that paralyzes him, preventing him from blinking or moving his head to a more comfortable angle. He searches deep within himself for his voice, but once he’s located it, he’s not sure how to use it, like a little boy holding a sword.

“Yamaguchi.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

A pause.

“Thank you for doing the dishes.”

+

He can tell it's going to storm by the way the humidity has gathered, curling the ends of napkins and pages, collecting in the hollows between bones. He decides to weather it the only way he knows how.

But somehow sleep evades him. A slow chill overtakes him.

Tsukishima hates storms.

There's leftover sleep medicine from when Akiteru visited months ago, and he swallows the 2 pills without a second thought. He recalls being really sleepy after taking flu meds, and downs a dusty tonic flavored with artificial cherries. He turns on the news, cracks open a book, hoping to be bored to sleep, but nothing works, and his mind and pulse are racing.

“Kei.”

He jolts — and there you are, nestling into the covers, dressed in his ratty old college t-shirt. He’s dreaming. He must say this out loud because you smile.

“Maybe.”

You are obnoxiously relaxed and cozy, while Tsukishima is afraid to move a finger in case you disappear again. “Where the hell have you been?” He demands.

Outside, a whip of thunder rolls across the sky. He flinches. You sigh contentedly.

“I love summer storms.”

This is a memory. He realizes. He remembers.

+

“I love summer storms.” You nestled into the covers.

“Of course you would,” he had scoffed, propping his head up on an elbow to look at you. And then, lovingly; “Freak.”

You pay his reaction no head. You're in a dreamy mood. Sometimes when you're like this Tsukishima gets a little jealous. In these moments you're not really here, you're not really his.

“They're magical,” you had said firmly. Then you sat straight up. An idea had just dropped into your lap. “Let's go for a drive.”

He didn't even need to glance out the window at the charcoal sky, the rain plastered streets, the wind blowing and shaking the world, to picture it. “No.”

“C’mon, Kei. Let's explore. Live a little for once.”

He sat up. You looked at him. You were serious and he saw that you were serious. “You're not being logical. Use your brain for once!”

He knew you hated when he said that. Why had he said it, then? He was hateful.

You looked at him again. Then you slipped out of bed. “Goddamn,” he had muttered, falling back into bed. She'll be back, he convinced himself.

She did not come back. She took the car out to explore. Three hours later, Tsukishima was at the hospital. Two days later, he came home alone. Since then, he had never really left.

+

Then, as soon as the storm lands, it blows over. Tsukishima holds his breath — but it’s over, it's really over, and he can breathe again.

He lies in bed, patiently waiting for the sleepless night to end. Outside his window the cicadas sing a mourning melody.

[sugadaily]

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music. How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible. How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities. How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery. You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

[niawritess]

The Lovestruck~ Chapter 32

( 28th October)

It's been two weeks to Ria's and Chanyeol's wedding and they both were off to their honeymoon trip to Paris where Ria always wanted to go and Chanyeol kept his promise of taking her to her dream place.

On the other hand, you and Baekhyun told your parents about your decision to get married. They were surprised by the sudden news but since they also wanted it, they went along with it. Both of your parents had been meeting occasionally and three days before, both families had a dinner together.

They discussed everything regarding the marriage and hence, came to the conclusion that you both were going to get married at the end of this month. You and Baekhyun were on cloud nine even though he wanted to get married sooner than the decided date but eventually he was satisfied.

Your friends got to know about the news and you got the blessings of them and at the same time they were clowning Baekhyun for you to take the decision again but you just laughed it off as to you, it was the best decision. Talking about your bestfriend, she was beyond shocked and happy where she almost had Chanyeol to get his ear checked because of her scream. Their honeymoon was coming to an end and told they would be back by this weekend.

Coming back to the present, you were currently at your work place, photocopying some papers where some of your co-workers were seated on their tables discussing something while looking at the laptop.

"He's so handsome!" A co-worker exclaimed loudly enough to gain your attention and you tried to peek at her laptop screen curiously only to raise your eyebrows amusingly.

"I know right! He's Byun Baekhyun, his games have been nothing but a hotshot these days!" Another lady commented making you smile proudly upon hearing praises for your fiancé.

"But too bad, he's married."

You frowned confusingly collecting the papers in your hands while giving them a glance to hear more.

"Really?"

"Yes. Apparently, he said this in an interview that he has a wife." She sighed and you smiled again before taking the papers and walked to your cabin feeling joyful as your coworkers eyed you strangely.

Your work hours were over and you walked down the lobby while on your way to hail a cab as your car was in a repair shop and you had asked your brother Jae to drop you off in the morning after whining for ten minutes.

As you exited the building, whispers and gasps could be heard loudly enough to get your attention and being a curious human being, you followed their gaze to get surprised to see your one and only fiancé.

There he stood with his crossed arms, leaning against the car, in a pair of blue jeans with white button down, tucked in and rolled up sleeves showing his Rolex watch wrapped around his wrist, whereas his jet black hair styled down which he kept flipping back as he was scrolling through his phone.

He couldn't careless about the stares but as soon as his eyes met yours, he quickly straightened himself as he shot his eye smile. As those people saw him looking at you and your co-workers who were talking about him earlier stared at you shook.

Getting uncomfortable by their stares, you let out a huff before narrowing your eyes at him as soon as you aproached. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pick up my soon to be wife, you got a problem with that?" He replied in a sassy tone as he opened the passenger's door and you bit your lip preventing yourself from smiling.

"Well, then you also know that your soon to be wife hates being the center of attention." You shot back standing between the passenger's door as you looked at him and him towering over you.

He gave you a confused look before roaming his eyes around, seeing people staring at him and a smirk formed on his lips as he looked at you.

"I can't just tell them to stop staring at my handsome face, can I?" He made a innocent face before a smug smile formed on his lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn't answered him as you sat in and looked at him. "So, are you gonna pick me up even after marriage?"

He crossed his arms around his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the car and looked down at you frowning. "Didn't you say you don't like being the center of attention?"

You gave him a perplexed look and before you could utter a word, he beat you. "But I don't mind. Being a good husband, I'll pick up my wife everyday."

Shooting you a wink, he closed the door and strolled towards his seat leaving you dumbfounded there. As you got what he meant, you made a grumpy face and squinted eyes at him as he sat in.

He felt your eyes at him but he didn't care as he kept the smirk on his lips which annoyed you even more and with a huff you buckled your seatbelt before facing ahead with a pout forming on your lips unconsciously causing him to smile at your adorable expression.

On the way, he played your favorite song in the car where you smiled forgetting about earlier scene as he knew how to make your mood better.

"Aren't you curious about where I'm taking you?" He took a quick glance at you before looking ahead as he was genuinely confused by you not asking him nonstop.

"I am. Actually very much curious." You looked at him, sighing. "But knowing my soon to be husband, who won't reveal it until the end, I'm going to save my energy for later."

He giggled as you emphasized the husband word before he poked your cheek softly. "Wow, it's a progress then."

After driving for a while with your sweet nonstop bickering, he pulled the car over a house which you instantly recognized as you let out a gasp with amazement.

"Is it finished?" You asked staring at him with your big eyes and he chuckled nodding before he got off causing you squeal as you also got out of the car.

This house was going to be your new home after marriage which you and Baekhyun had designed together with the help of Minseok and Jongdae who were in the business of Architecture.

Baekhyun stretched out his hand for you to hold it which you did as you both made your way inside the house. A gasp left your lips as you roamed your eyes around the house which looked exactly like how you both had designed but even more beautiful in real life.

"It's so beautiful." You beamed with your twinkling eyes and wide smile on your face before Baekhyun wrapped his arms around your neck leaning his head over yours. "It is. Our home."

You smiled at him nodding before you two walked to the bedroom and you frowned before throwing a question look to Baekhyun.

"I thought you didn't wanted a black themed room?"

He shrugged looking away. "My wife wanted it, so yeah."

You bit your lip, giggling as you approached him and cupped his cheek before planting a kiss on his cheek making him smile shyly. You turned around to stroll a little in the room before stopping infront of the glass window as you stared outside.

Baekhyun came behind and wrapped his arms around your waist as he leaned his cheek against your temple while you smiled leaning into his touch as put your hands over his.

He stroked the star of the bracelet he gave you as he smiled. "I'm finally kidnapping you."

You chuckled, before frowning. "You kidnapped me two years ago."

"Uh Uh. That was temporary, this time it's permanently." He trailed off as he kissed your temple. "I can't wait to get married and to see our little beans running around who'll look exactly like you."

You tilted your head to look at him frowning. "Why only me? They should look like you too."

Baekhyun looked up thinking and hummed nodding slowly before he looked at you smiling. "Let's do this then. They can have your beauty and my brains."

Your eyebrows knitted. "Wait- You mean to say, I don't have a brain?"

He let go of you as he knew what was coming before he walked backwards slowly and smiled. "Well, I didn't. You said it."

You sighed in annoyance before throwing him a glare. "I knew it! You-Come here!"

"Not that easy, Coffee bean!" He laughed running outside and you behind him chasing him with your giggles filling in your new home temporarily but soon permanently.

* * *

Later that day, after Baekhyun dropped you off to your home, you were in the living room working on your laptop with your mom doing something in the kitchen while your dad was sitting beside you watching TV. Jae was still not home while Daniel was outside having a group study with his friends. You sipped your tea and continued typing when the door bell rang. Your dad went to the door and opened it to see a delivery boy with a rectangle box in his hands packed with red sheet.

"Y/n, it's for you." He spoke as he signed the paper before closing the door and came to you with the box who was staring at it confusingly and curiously.

"What's this?" You took it from his hand and tried to shake it where you didn't hear anything from inside.

Your dad rolled his eyes at your question. "How would I know? I'm not inside the box."

You gave him a look before placing your laptop aside and ran upstairs to your room while your dad yelling behind to check it carefully if it's a time bomb or something.

"But why would someone want to kill us?" He asked your mom who was aproaching and she gave him a suspicious look. "Think carefully if you have nagged someone at your work."

He shot her a corner glare and she shrugged settling herself on the couch excited to watch her favorite Ji Chang Wook's drama.

Meanwhile, you carefully opened the red sheet and it was white box underneath before opening it and gasped to see a red dress lied inside. You smiled knowing who's doing it is but the reason was unknowin and before you could take it out, your phone buzzed.

Taking it, you saw a message from Baekhyun and you smiled reading it.

Baek- You must have got the present already. In an hour my driver would come to pick you up, so get ready. See you later, Coffee bean.

"What does this mean? Is he throwing me off somewhere?"

Before you could mutter any more nonsense, a message popped up again from him again.

Baek- Don't you dare think about that serial killer thing. I'm not going to murder you, rest assured. So dress beautifully in my favorite colored dress, even though you're already.

You smiled blushing and then giggled at how he knows you so well. Sighing, you grabbed the dress to look at it throughly, it was a off shoulder floral knee-length dress and immediately went to the washroom to change. Coming back, you stood in front of the mirror staring yourself and smiled at how perfectly it hugged your figure before letting your hair down behind and did your natural makeup.

"Is he taking me out on a dinner?" You muttered as you checked the time it was 8:45 before you heard your mom's voice calling you.

Going downstairs, you saw your parents smiling at you with their eyes getting teary causing you to look at them worringly. "What? What happened?"

Your mom chuckled shaking her head. "Nothing, you just look so beautiful."

You chuckled. "Do I?"

"Yes, more than your mom when she was young." Your dad said and got a punch on his arm by your mom making him groan and you laughed before going outside.

Baekhyun's driver who was middle-aged man was standing outside and he slightly bowed as you reciprocated before sitting in the backseat while he began to drive.

The drive was barely five minutes and it halted where you confusingly looked outside to see it was Rose's Café. You asked the driver if it was the right location and he replied that he was told to bring you here. Thanking him, you got out of the car as he drove away while you were staring the Café quizzically before looking at the glass window to see inside but all in vain as it was curtained.

"What is happening?" You muttered before talking slow steps towards the Café and opened the door which was unlocked before entering inside with a heavy heart.

As soon as you stepped inside, your steps halted as it was pitch black where the light from outside was coming through the door. Biting your lips nervously, you attempted to fish out your phone but to your dismay, you left your purse in your home thinking it was with you all this while.

You took a deep breath and gulped. "Baekhyun, where are you? If this is some kind of prank, I'm telling you-"

The dim lights suddenly turned on, causing your blabbing to stop as you let out a gasp seeing the place filling up with twinkling stars around you. Blinking at the sudden action confusingly, you couldn't even comprehend the scene properly when another light turned on around the counter.

You eyes enlarged seeing both of your pictures in different polaroids with each one of them were attached with a thin golden lights on the wall.

You let out a airy chuckle as your heart suddenly welled up with emotions causing your eyes to fill up with tears before you heard a sound of another light turning on where your head whipped towards the direction and you froze.

No way....

There he was, standing in your favorite colored black button down which you gifted him on his birthday and looking amazing as always. He glanced at you with a nervous smile before sitting down on the seat infront the piano which you didn't knew was there since you were lost staring at him.

"You said you love my voice, so listen to this because I have prepared this for you." He sighed before looking at you with a fake stern face. "Clap for me, even if you don't like it."

You unconsciously let out a low chuckle and before you could utter anything, he pressed the key. Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears with the same nervousness and excitement.

My feelings for you are always the same,

I’m always standing behind like this,

May my earnest prayer reach you,

Today I hope for that too,

Because you’re my everything,

I’m confessing these words now,

The melody for you,

The melody towards you,

My beautiful eternal feeling,

No matter who else asks,

My answer is you,

I love you with all my heart,

I’ll put you inside my heart...

You gripped the hem of your dress tightly as your tilted to look at him with nothing but love while your eyes brimming with tears.

And even if the seasons change,

I will be here,

Promise I won’t change,

When you’re about to get sad,

Close your eyes and think about it,

The melody for you,

The melody towards you,

My beautiful eternal feeling,

No matter who else asks,

My answer is you,

The only one in the world,

It’s only you...

Finishing the song, he placed his hands on his lap while his eyes were still closed as he took a breath before opening them again to lock with your teary ones. He stood up slowly and walked towards you smiling fondly and you watched his figure coming towards you with blurry eyes. You kept biting your lip preventing from crying and turning yourself into a ghost.

Baekhyun stopped infront of you and heaved a deep sigh feeling his heart thumping loudly out of nervousness and just prayed everything goes smooth as he has planned.

He licked his lips before looking into your teary eyes. "This is where we met first time. I still remember the day when I stepped inside and saw an innocent yet beautiful girl giving drink to a customer with a prettiest smile."

"And that smile made my heart skip a beat and I still remember your shocked face when you saw me and couldn't say anything but still smiled at me beautifully." He chuckled making you smile at the memory. "And now that smile is enough to make my bad day turn into a brightest one."

"We never talked too much and yet I was comfortable around you but when we did, that was it. I loved talking to you. I just started wanting to spend time with you and before I knew it, I was in love with you." He whispered enough to make your lips quiver and inched closer to you before taking your hand.

"That was the best thing ever happened to me. You are that best part of my life I always want to cherish. We have been through ups and downs and hard times together but that's what made us what we are now."

Taking off his hand away, a light gasp left your lips as he kneeled down and placed a ring infront of you.

"You are my favorite person and I'm so crazy in love with you. And I want my favorite person to be always by my side. So, Y/n, Will you marry me?"

Oh god..

You couldn't keep it in any longer and sobbed tears streaming down your cheeks while wondering, how could you be so lucky to have this man in your life.

"I don't have any option, we're getting married soon." You blurted out chuckling while wiping your tears.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes playfully. "Stop being a killjoy."

You giggled and made yourself kneeled down infront of him before wounding your arms around his neck tightly hugging him. "Of course, it's a yes."

Pulling away, he slide the finger in your other ring finger and kissed your hand before smiling while wiping the remaining tears from your face.

"When did you prepare all of this?"

"Now what kind of boyfriend I would be if I wouldn't propose my soon to be wife huh?" He raised his eyebrows smirking and your rolled your eyes smiling.

"Should we get up or my legs will get cramped."

You nodded, nonchalantly. "It's normal for an Ajjusshi."

"Right." He scoffed, standing up before helping you to get up but you just held his hand firmly and looked up at him smiling who was now confused.

"I..." You trailed off licking your lips."I'm not as expressive as you and I'm always being a whiny girlfriend to you. But I really want you to know this. Thank you for being by my side and bearing with this whiny girl."

Your eyes got blurry again and you took a deep breath."Whenever I have bad days or good days, I always find my way to you. Because you are my safest place. You are my home. The home which I always want to come back to."

"And that being said." You felt his grip got tightened around your hand and you rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. "Baekhyun, Be my home? And I'm not taking a no for an answer."

To say shocked and overwhelmed was an understandment as what was Baekhyun feeling. He wanted to surprise you with his proposal and he got a surprise but a beautiful one.

His teary eyes full of happiness was enough proof of it.

Getting down again, he pulled you in a tight hug. "Gosh, I'm so in love with you."

You chuckled, hugging him back."Feeling is mutual."

He pulled away cupping your face and leaned in for a kiss, before leaning his forehead against it.

"Where did you copy these words from?" He joked and you pulled away before slapping his arm.

"I put so much courage to say this and you're making fun of me!" You whined and he laughed pulling you back to him as he hugged you again.

Meanwhile..

"Jack, Why didn't you propose me like this?" Rose whispered to Jack standing beside her watching the couple outside from the Cafés kitchen door and he turned to her with a weird look. "Really? After two years of our marriage?"

Rose rolled her eyes before Ria giggled. "But I got the best proposal, at the beach. So romantic and kdrama like."

Ria's hand was resting on her husband's back who was looking outside but still smiled secretly hearing her words.

"I'm also going to propose like this." Mark intruded gaining both Rose's and Ria's attention as Ria raised her eyebrows. "You got a girlfriend?"

He instantly shook his head. "No, if I had one in the future."

"I didn't know Baekhyun Sunbae was this romantic." Sooyoung cooed staring the couple outside with adoration and admiration.

"Be prepared. Because I'm going to propose you like this." Sehun smiled and got a slap on the arm from her as he looked at her confusingly.

"Why are you ruining my surprise?" She glared at him and he giggled at her reaction.

"Seriously? Are you both really doing this in the kitchen?" Rowoon asked looking at the couple before looking outside standing behind Chanyeol.

"Are they done? Should we go outside?" Jongin spoke excitedly.

"No, not now!" Chanyeol whisper-yelled as Jongin was about to go outside but he tripped on Sehun's leg beside him causing both Jongin and Sehun to fall outside on the floor where they accidentally touched the light board causing it to turn on.

Baekhyun and you flinched at the noise from the kitchen and the lights suddenly turned on as you glanced towards the kitchen while Baekhyun rolled his eyes.

"What's going on?" You asked looking at your friends coming outside from the kitchen one by one. Baekhyun chuckled and you looked at him confusingly before he pulled you up with him dusting your knees.

"How.. Wait.. What are you two doing here?" You asked asked the newly wed couple who were coming by the end of the week but were standing together infront of you.

"Well, I asked them for help and to keep a secret from you." Baekhyun told and you nodded before Ria jogged towards you and engulfed you in a big hug congratulating you.

"Now I can't wait to see you get married." Ria commented and you smiled looking at Baekhyun who was already looking at you before raising his eyebrows teasingly.

Rose and Sooyoung also gave you a bone crushed hug together with Ria and you giggled but yelped as you couldn't breathe properly before you felt yourself getting detached from them then saw Baekhyun pulling you to him as his arms were around your waist.

"You'll kill her before I could marry her." He glared at those three ladies who reciprocated him with the same glare before all of your friends were congratulating you.

The sound of bell gained everyone's attention and saw Kyungsoo, Jongdae, Minseok, Junmyeon and Yixing entering inside before their eyes went wide.

"What? You already proposed?" Jongdae asked with a disbelief face before glaring at his friend. "You couldn't even wait for us!"

Minseok slapped Baekhyun's back. "I helped you with your house and this is what I get?"

"Hyung!" Baekhyun whined. "I gave you bunch of money!"

"Let him be." Kyungsoo interuppted. "We'll ask him after his marriage."

Everyone burst out laughing at his remark while you and Baekhyun gave him a glare as he went to sit on a table. Soon the tables were set again, with the food and drinks from Kyungsoo's restaurant.

"Are we that late?" You turned around to see your both brothers coming inside and you looked at them confused. "What are you two doing here?"

"We're not here for you." Jae spoke as he looked at Baekhyun. "We are here for our brother in law."

You rolled your eyes as he sat across you with Daniel who instantly sat beside Baekhyun. "I'm gonna be Baekhyun Hyung's Bestman."

You attempted to slap him but he hid behind Baekhyun making the latter laugh at you two brother and sister before he grabbed your hand to place it on his lap.

"Tell me one thing." You trailed off motioning him to come closer which he did before kissing your cheek. "How did you prepare the song?"

Baekhyun smiled gesturing towards Yixing and Chanyeol as they both locked eyes with you causing you smile at them which they reciprocated.

"Did you like it?" Baekhyun asked genuinely and you smiled nodding. "So much."

"Really?"

"Double really."

You both giggled before heard a fake coughing noise to see Jongin giving you a look. "Don't do this infront of me. Do this after your marriage!"

"Just get a girlfriend!" Junmyeon said getting annoyed with his constant whining and at the end, Jongin replied him with a whine.

You all laughed while enjoying your time of life with your friends, more like family to you who came like a blessing in your life with the person beside you who was blessing himself. The chatters of your friends was going on and you excused yourself to the washroom. Coming back, you stopped by the counter as you stared at the pictures on the wall reminiscing them as a smile crept on your lips.

Looking through the pictures, you wondered how far you both have come and how strong your bond have become in these years.

Your eyes got blurry thinking about it before you felt a warm hand grasping yours making you smile knowing who it was as you looked at Baekhyun with the same smile and emotion in his eyes as if he was thinking the same thing.

You wrapped your arms around his waist with your head in the crook of his neck where his arms wounded around you holding you securely in his safe place before he rested your head over yours while looking at your friends smiling.

You looked at him smiling and he looked down at you smiling back with the same love in his eyes before he kissed your forehead and you hugged him again while tightening your grip on eachother.

Everything started from this place. Your first meet. Your first day of dating. And now your proposal. That time it was a beginning of your new love and this time a beginning of your new journey together.

_________________

I hope you all like this chapter and the next update is gonna be the last chapter already🤧

___________

@wooya1224 @buttercupbbh @jddcfc-blog @usernameloaa @gominieni @shesdreaminginoverdose

[wind-becomes-lightning]

"They knock on your apartment door instead of your neighbor’s." For kksayu or sorayam c:

Cara, dear <3 Thank you for sending something!!

50 Meet cutes - send me some to get my mind of things!!

A day off, certainly not something Sayuri got every day with an incredibly annoying father who at any opportunity told her how harder work would lead to better opportunities in life (but not too many opportunities! because first and foremost, she was to be a mother someday). But today she was free, all alone in her little one room apartment, phone off, head off, Laptop and Netflix on her lap. She hadn't even bothered to put on real clothes besides sweatpants and a sweater that read "Girlboss" (a sarcastic gift from her friend Shinra). She wasn't going out tonight and certainly nobody was coming in.

Munching on the biggest bag of already popped popcorn she could find in the store, she focused on the newest season of her favourite trash tv series, the drama between Angie and Shane just heating up into spicy level, when it knocked on the door. Sayuri hit the spacebar and scratched her ear. She hadn't ordered anything, she wasn't expecting anyone. Probably just someone who was trying to sell her something. She hit the spacebar again and returned to Shane's yelling.

Another knock. Whoever was trying to sell something, they sure were persistent. Sayuri shifted a little from underneath her Laptop to get to the door. It knocked again. Jesus, what a rude person, clearly she wasn't home. Couldn't they just move on. She leaned forward to look through the spy hole in the door when the person in front of it suddenly stopped his knocking and spoke up instead. "Obito, it's me. Don't act like you don't know im here." She said nothing, frozen in place with one hand on the door. "Let me in," the male voice from outside whined. "I get it, I'm sorry you're broken up over Rin, but you could at least open the door for me. I didn't- didn't mean to get in the way of you two."

Sayuri opened the door slowly to the outside, leaving the man scrambling to shuffle back to give it space. He was tall, taller than her, hair coloured in a white silvery mix that she'd never seen on a man before. He wore a white surgeon style face mask over his mouth and nose, but what immediately caught her eye was the scar across his left one. As if he'd been sliced open from his eyebrow to his cheek. "Obito Uchiha..", she said and pointed away, "..lives one apartment down."

He blinked over her, gaze falling from her unmade hair to her baggy pants to the shirt and Sayuri felt red when she clearly heard him mouth "Girlboss". "Oh, apologies" he said and stepped back a little, swaying on one foot. "I guess I must have misremembered." Sayuri nodded mechanically, stunned at the way he looked. He was conventionally beautiful, stunning features and not bulky but broad shoulders. If only she'd looked a bit better. "Thats alright", she said equally as mechanically, trying to keep it together. "All though its not nice to go between him and his girlfriend."

"I- It does not matter" he looked away from Sayuri's face, now embarrassed himself and the emotion looked good on him too. "Anyway," he coughed a little "Sorry for disturbing you with..." He raised his eyebrows. "I was just ... watching netflix", she said. He nodded, a little amused "And eating popcorn I guess" To demonstrate, he picked a popcorn off that was stuck to Sayuri's sweater. He laughed. She wanted to die.

"A-at least I can keep two different numbers apart" she mocked, masking her own embarrassment. "Idiot." He raised his brows again and she could see his tongue move over his lips under his mask. "Well I know how to eat something as easy as popcorn without dirtying myself at least." He picked up another stuck popcorn from her sweater. "Idiot" he copied her and ate it. She could feel a new heat in her face, so unrelated to embarrassment.

"So what? You are the idiot, idiot", Sayuri was scrambling for things to say, nothing to mock him for on her mind quick enough. He laughed again, the sound rumbling at her core. "Fine, this idiot will go now. It was nice to meet you, uh-" he looked at her doorsign, " Sayuri, also Uchiha?" She nodded. "Related?" She shook her head. "Interesting" the man winked at her. "Anyway, see you around maybe." She waved like a robot and saw him walk over to the next door. Quickly she went inside to slam the door behind her, heart hammering against her chest.

She had forgotten to ask him for his name.

[strongsassysexysloane]

Eleventh Day of Twelve - A Tired but Treasured Day

A/N - Look at that! We are second from the end! Thank you to all the comments and love! Really appreciate it, it's been a long week!

. . . .

Read previous drabbles below.

. . . .

You walked into the office clinging to your cup of coffee. It felt like you were just here and you were, only five hours ago. This time however it was your own doing. You'd found a tiny shred of evidence to go on and had to follow it before the trail went cold. Then it lead to Gibbs and Nick finding the killer in a warehouse in town and bringing him in at just after 0100. You didn't finish interrogating until 0200 and it was now 0730. Coffee, coffee needed to be pumped into you to wake up this morning and a constant flow throughout the day would be required.

To your delight there was a hot cup sitting on your desk as you walked into the bullpen. No note so you assumed this time it wasn't from your gift giver. Day 11 and no one had spilled the beans or gone looking at the cameras like they wanted to on day one.

"Gibbs dropped it off about five minutes ago before he went down to get a report from Kasie who wasn't pleased to be called in so early." Ellie explained while leaning back in her chair and sipping her coffee. "He brought one for all of us."

"Christmas miracles do happen." Nick grinned, dropping his small cup in the trash. "Done."

"It's not a race. You just slugged all your energy for the next three hours."

"Oh please, I've stayed up later and come to work more tired before. Remember the November incident." He waved off.

"I still feel hungover from it." Ellie grumbled, scrunching her nose at the memory of Tequila.

"Please don't remind me." Tim groaned. "Plus I'm not allowed anymore Tequila, Delilah's orders."

"She may be on to something." You ran your hand through your hair, smirking at the banter. Turning on your computer for the day, you saw the next gift hanging from your desk lamp. It was beautiful, a little teddy bear carved out of marble with a shimmering purple and green crown sitting on its head.

"Day 11, the gift giver strikes again." You rolled your eyes at Nick's words while holding the Christmas decoration in your hand, running your thumb over the intricate detail.

It was sweet, a cute addition to your small Christmas tree at home. You'd put it up on December one. That was your tradition and some years it didn't seem worth it but you made the effort. Being alone on Christmas sucked, there was no way around it but this year you were making an effort to not sulk about it. The secret gift giver certainly lifted the spirit as well.

Your tree wasn't over the top but a nice addition to your home. This would fit perfectly front and centre and you made sure of it.

The day was relatively easy. The office banter keeping the spirits going with a good supply of caffeine. It was really just a lot of paper work and then you were set free around mid afternoon to try and have that weekend off. This time Vance made sure the team wouldn't be called in. There were other agents to take the call after all.

You'd missed Jack most of the day and didn't want to interrupt her as she was head deep in evals for the end of year. Instead you decided to shoot her a text when you got home.

- Just wanted to say have a good weekend. Didn't want to interrupt your head mojo.

You knew she'd get a kick out of it and you weren't mistaken.

- Head mojo hey? Smarty in the evening just like you said. Missed you today, didn't realise how many evals I still had to do before I went on my trip. Now I'm back logged and still at work.

It was just hitting 1830 which was a late one for Jack on a Friday. She was always hurrying along at the end of the week to make sure by the time 1700 hit she was out the door.

- I hope you are either finishing for the evening or planning on having dinner while you work. It's getting late, Jack.

- No need to worry about little old me. I need to get these done, I'll grab a bite later. Enjoy your night.

An idea popped to mind, you grabbed your coat and car keys and headed back out into the snowfall with your blue scarf still wrapped around your neck.

Thankfully, you weren't too far from the Navy yard and the Diner was just a five minute detour on the route. You called ahead so the food was ready when you got there and still warm when you knocked on her door.

"Come in, y/n."

You huffed, opening the door. "Now how could you possibly know it was me?"

Jack was sitting on her couch, shoes off, legs crossed and glasses tugging her hair back and sitting on her head. "You didn't reply, you always reply. And you care too much." She got up, placing her laptop on the coffee table and walking up to you.

Those were a lot of compliments you weren't entirely prepared for. You thought Jack was the one that cared a lot, but never too much. "I think I care just the right amount but I can eat this all by myself if you'd prefer?" You smirked, pretending to walk back out but Jack caught your arm.

"I didn't mean it like that. I lo-ike that you care so much." She ran her hand up and down your arm a few times before dropping it away. Her warm comforting smile turned into a cute frown. "And don't you dare walk out on me now that youve made all this effort to come here." She took a deep breath in. "Is that two cheeseburgers and fries?"

The frown and the way her nose twitched at the smell was completely adorable. "With a side of gravy. Wasn't sure if you liked it on your fries or not." You shrugged, missing the soft and loving look Jack gave, you walked past her and sat at one end of the couch, unpacking the bag of food. "Come, sit." You urged, patting the spot beside you as she just stood there and watched.

With a soft smile curving her lips, she came around after a beat and sat exactly where you said to. She took the small pot of gravy and poured it over her fries before pouring the rest over yours. "Thank you."

You bumped her shoulder lightly. "Anytime. Can't have Jack Sloane Hangry and loose in DC." That got you a slap on the knee but it was worth it as her hand soothed the spot she hit and stayed there for a while until it was time to eat.

"Didn't mean to ruin your Friday night plans either." She took a huge bite of the burger.

Between bites you managed an answer, "You mean my big watching The Holiday movie while eating a cup of noodles or the one where I go to sleep at 7pm because im living on about four hours sleep right now."

Skipping over how tired you were she jumped at the mention of the movie. "That's my favourite Christmas movie! It's got the best of both worlds! The sun of LA and the cold winter wonderland of the UK. God, I haven't watched that in years! My mum and I went to the movies to watch it and then every Christmas after we'd watch it together, some people had Love Actually, we had The Holiday. Guess I stopped watching when mum passed." She ate a few more fries. "Wow, Jack, way to ruin the good mood. Sorry. Got lost for a moment there."

You liked it when she rambled. She always would say so many interesting things and you just loved to hear her voice. You prayed the day never came when you wouldn't hear it anymore. "Don't apologize-" You held up your hand to stop her from butting in. "- And, no it's not because of Gibbs silly rule. I enjoy hearing about your past about things you love or did. The Holiday is a sweet movie, my must watch in December along with The Grinch, Home Alone and many more. I try my best to keep the holiday spirits up when I'm by myself for them which has been the last many."

"I enjoy hearing you talk too." She smiled, taking a massive bite of her burger and filling up her cheeks.

There was no silence after that. The evals were put to the side and you talked for what seemed like hours. Talking about childhood Christmas' and silly stories to cringe worthy dating moments over this time of year. It wasn't until you couldn't keep your mouth shut from yawning that you said good night around 2300.

"Sorry you didn't get your evals done." You sing over the roof of your car as Jack unlocked her Mini.

"Don't be. I'm happy to come in tomorrow because tonight was fun!" Her genuine smile told you that she wasn't lying. You could read people pretty well and most times Jack Sloane was an enigma to you but right now you knew she was telling the truth.

"Good night, Jack."

She opened her car door before adding. "Enjoy your movie!"

You yawned with a laugh. "You're kidding right? I'm going to sleep, I'll watch it tomorrow now."

"Fair, good night y/n. Sweet Dreams!"

. . . .

Who doesn't want this to end? Me. But I also maybe, slightly want a break from writing every day. It's been fun but tiring. I've enjoyed it a lot though! I love this time of year, if only I wasn't working in retail.

[fyeah-bangtan7]

SUGA “I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music”

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music.

How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible.

How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities.

How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery.

You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

[georgemackayhey]

More Than A Night Out

warning: Explicit content 18+ Only

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat behind the roped off a section of a smoke-filled bar in one of Vegas' most hectic hotels, sporting a fancy dress and feeling a bit anxious.

"I'm George. And you're who I'm supposed to be introducing myself to, right?" He stood leaning in close before you clad in a casual leather jacket with his hands shoved in his pockets. Reading body language had become a much more important part of this job than you'd once figured. But there was a difference between assessing and staring. And you had to catch yourself on the edge of openly gawking at the lean beauty who called himself George.

"Yes, yes, thanks for sparing some time for a chat." You smiled warmly, scooting to the corner of the curved red vinyl booth. George let his nervous grin flicker into a warmer expression as he slid in to meet the opposite corner of the table.

You were a writer for an independent magazine based out of New York. Your publisher had sent you all over America to interview all kinds of talented people of current pop culture. You were used to celebrities and their lingo, and you were used to the pseudo niceties these interviews came along with. After answering your questions with nothing but pride, your subjects would leave and go on being popular. It was your job to make them seem like normal human beings, with an overload of charm.  

In your lap, a hardback notebook held all your hastily scribbled questions that you thought up in preparation for this moment. You were meant to ask George MacKay how his latest film had changed his life and about his rise to fame. You were supposed to get him to gush about acting and tell you some beautiful antidote no other interview had managed to hear the likes of. Your job tonight was to focus on George's latest project, 1917. But George asked the first question.

"So you've been doing this a while, huh?" The man with sky blue eyes asked. A waiter had breezed by, sliding a list of drinks for you pair to choose from.

"I only ask because the bio in your email was like, really impressive. I don't know if I'm worthy." George laughed, gazing at the beer list as you shrugged. You had conducted conversations with the likes of many old, jaded stars. Tonight was different. A young, spirited man sat across from you and his eyes were shining right into yours. You were completely unworthy.

"Don't worry. I'll only write exactly what you say." You smiled, eyeing the mixed drinks, but only ordering water when the waiter came back by.

"What's been your craziest interview?" George wondered, propping his chin in his hand as he looked to you like a boy in school, and you were a fireman on career day. You laughed out loud, because yes. You laugh because you were supposed to be asking the questions.

"I made Axel Rose cry." You grinned, peeking behind a strand of your hair to ensure this wasn't something you went around telling everyone. "He was the guest during a benefit for our magazine. I asked about his family and he just sort of lost it."

George laughed out loud, beaming at you. So far, this felt more like riffing with an old friend of a friend. You nearly forgot about the list of questions in your lap. But even after you cracked open your notebook, George still had more to say.

"With the right questions, I bet you get a lot of dirt." He rose a pale brow as if there was something he was trying to get you to understand. A code he wished you would crack.

"You should let me ask you a few." You mused, leaning in a little closer to establish your longing to get this show on the road. Not that you wanted the night to end sooner. You could have basked in the glow of his blinding smile for all time. But you were on a clock...

George watched your mouth move as you asked him about 1917. He looked you in the eyes when he told you his favorite memories from set. You watched his hands move around as he explained the impact that acting out such a tumultuous time period had on his personal and professional life. In the lulls in between conversation, when he paused to sip his lager, your eyes met each others. It was by far one of the more enjoyable nights of your career. He was easy to listen to and very lovely to look at.

When the clock struck midnight, and your notebook was filled with more information than you'd even consider finalizing, the night ended. With smiles and genuine thanks, you parted from the grotty Vegas bar. But as you made your way through the casino, you turned back to see George lingering near the elevators, watching you disappear into the crowd.

___

Up in your luxurious room, too nice for someone to stay in all alone, you checked your phone. You had a flight to catch in the morning, travel that would put you home right in time for the weekend.

But a dark email loomed at the top of your notification bar. Your flight had been delayed due to weather, a wicked snow storm had taken residence in New York. Seriously, this late in February? The airline had given you a limited few options for later flights, and you slumped on the downy hotel bed, booking the soonest flight out of this trashy city.

Looked like you'd be spending another day hanging around the hotel that felt more like a small city of its own. Luckily, you had something, rather; someone to write that would keep you pleasantly distracted.

___

Last nights silky was totally worth sporting in front of your modern-day movie star crush, but you were glad to be more comfortable this morning. After a long scalding shower, you slipped into reasonable leggings and an old band shirt that was a few sizes too large. This could pass as sporty, right? With thoughts of fashion draining from your head, you grabbed your laptop and started a lazy shuffle toward the lobby of the hotel.

You usually wrote in coffee shops, back home, but the lobby swarmed with tourists was a little too hectic for your liking. Luckily, you wandered to the opposite wing of the lodge and found a relatively cozy nook outside of a casino. It was too early for the swarm of gamblers to distract you with drunken cheers, but the stead buzz of well-groomed patrons coming and going from the bar was white noise music to your ears.

You nestled into a chaise lounge chair by a window and ignored everything besides your laptop screen. There was nothing that could stop you from spending a little too long scrolling through George's fan tag on Instagram. When you finally started to outline the story based on his interview, you were one hundred words from your limit of one thousand, and you still hadn't said everything you wanted. You could have gushed over his polite and charming nature long enough to take up every page of the magazine you worked for.

But you reigned yourself in, reworded for a while, and started to finalize the article when a passer-by disrupted your work for the first time in a couple of hours.

"Is that about me?" It was him.

"Oh my God." You laughed, clutching onto your laptop like an instinct. You were shocked to see George again; dressed in a fine-looking sweater that made your heart buzz with a silly warmth. You cursed your leggings and wondered why you were stupid enough to wear your old thrift store Bowie tshirt in public.

"Can I read it?" George grew a wicked grin, moving to sit at the foot of the chaise you occupied. You scrambled to straighten your poster as your heart speed up in search of an excuse. You really shouldn't let him do that- but you couldn't say no to his sweet face, especially when he was smiling right at you.

"Uh..." You glanced between George and the laptop you'd been staring at for far too long. You realized that you were one spell check away from sending the damn thing in. You pressed the spellcheck button in a flash, so you wouldn't have to lie. But no errors were found, and you were left with zero choice.

"Just know I shouldn't be doing this." You warned, scooting your laptop away with a cringe. George, in all his charm, waggled his brow at you as he leaned in a little closer to read your story. You held your breath at his silly expression and ceased to breathe the entire time his eyes locked onto your laptop screen.

"This..." George spoke up after a very scary bout of silence. He shook his head as his eyes scanned the page on your laptop, and you felt your heart begin to stall.

"You actually, like... listened to what I had to say," George smirked in unmistakable disbelief. "It's so much more than a Q&A. You drew conclusions and made our conversation into a story. It's perfect." George glanced up to you for the first time in a while, and his eyes were searing into yours.

"Geez," You chuckled nervously, digging your nails into the stitching on the cushion below you. "Thank you, George. I never really get feedback like that from anyone I write for." You realized. Sure, you're articles we're promoted by the people featured in them, but they hardly ever had a direct comment on your work.

"When is it coming out?" George wondered, leaning on his elbow, looking up toward you. You leaned toward the laptop that was the barrier between you and the pretty man, but were closer to him than ever before.

"I just have to change the font..." You noted, pressing buttons as you spoke.  "open my email..." George's eyes eventually flickered from your face back to your screen. "and send it in."

"Would you like to do the honors?" You grinned, moving the cursor over the send button on the screen. George gazed back to you with a hearty chuckle but didn't waste much more time before clicking the send button for you.

"And now we wait." You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your waist as the handsome man smiled your way. Oh if you'd only put on a little lipstick...

"How should we pass the time, then?" George wondered in a curious lilt. "Oh, let's go drink one of those thirty-four-ounce margaritas to celebrate. It's the perfect occasion to day drink." Was he kidding? Because you weren't entirely sure if you were being punk'd or not, you tried to hide your wide-eyed reaction as you responded.

"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion." You grinned, shutting your laptop.

"If it's any consolation, that bar is empty right now, besides there's a lady asleep in the back in her clothes from last night." George pointed across the way. There we're people flooding the casino and taking their drinks to gamble. There was no way you were about to pass up this opportunity.

In the blink of an eye, you were sitting at a bar top, turned toward each other to share a ridiculously overpriced thirty-four-ounce strawberry margarita out of honest to God silly straws.

"This should actually be illegal."

"Do you remember the prohibition, George?" You laughed, watching the blended ice travel through the purple looped straw as you sipped.

"Of course not." George laughed incredulously. "Just because I lived through the war doesn't mean I'm that old."

"Ha ha." You mused, wondering why it was so easy to be around George. You'd just met him, but from the moment he opened his mouth, it was like you'd been chatting together for years. It was like he saw past the questions you were being paid to ask, and heard you asking them. Maybe just because you really did want to know his answers.

"I want to know what you've lived through," George demanded, taking a turn to drink out his straw from the margarita you'd been sharing. He'd been asking questions like that since you'd met him, and your chest blossomed with nerves as he peered up at you through his lashes. In your nervous scramble to give George an answer, your brain settled on a story about the first time you met Will Smith.

"Wait, wait, wait." George broke away from his green silly straw and held a dismissive hand out in front of you.

"We're off the record now, y/l/n. I want to know the real shit! Ya know, the last time you cried. Your Chipoltle order." George was waving his hands as if his questions were obvious. You laughed out loud, throwing your head back and relishing the moment you realized how lucky you were to be living in this moment.

So you reluctantly told him some things. You couldn't justify giving your best details away, but you liked the idea of a stranger knowing you the worst thing you did in second grade, and a silly trademark your family coined. George kept his brilliant gaze set on you, and you could almost see your own stories coming to life in his eyes. He was actually listening to you.

The focus on you was becoming a bit too overwhelming, so you shifted to ask George a few more questions, tipsy enough to pry for a few of the same antidotes George had asked you for. After laughing over a few fun facts about his hometown and the time he ran away from his mum in the supermarket, you both settled into silence. You were busy trying to compute how wild this afternoon had turned.

"How long are you staying?" He asked after a beat. When he caught your attention, you realized he'd never lost it and you'd been staring at him like you longed to do last night.

"Oh uh-"

"I was gifted tickets to one of those Cirque shows and my friend's flights got canceled.. So... I thought maybe... you'd wanna..."

"I... sure." You sit up straight, trying to bite back the cheesy grin on your face. You weren't sure how you ended up here in Vegas, sharing a drink with a stunning boy, but you thanked your lucky stars as George went one telling you the details he'd roped you into tonight.

___

The storm in New York had only gotten worse, as you scrolled through updates on your cities local website. Your flight was supposed to take off tomorrow morning, but the storm hadn't let up since the last flight got canceled. You decided now wasn't the time to worry, and went about tearing through your suitcase praying you'd find something nice enough to wear.

You exchanged room numbers, agreeing to meet up at George's tonight. You had more than enough time to get ready but still scrambled to present yourself as perfectly as possible. Agreeing to a night out with George was as lucky as you'd ever been.

After shimmying into a pretty outfit and fixing your makeup just right, your phone buzzed with a notification. Your editor had sent you the final edit of the story you'd written for George, praising you for a job well done. You couldn't help but giggled as you skipped down the hall on the way to George's room, three stories higher.

"Hello, love! You look wonderful." George smiled wide as he opened the door, gesturing for you to come in. His single room was much like yours, a living area and kitchen big enough to house a family, and a bedroom off down the hall. Vegas confounded you.

You rested your room key on a desk near the door and watched George slide into a sharp blue jacket, bringing out the shine of his matching eyes. God, how did he get better looking by the minute?

He escorted you from his suite with a coy grin as if your outing was scandalous.

"Your interview should be published next week. My editor loves it." You informed, walking in step with George to the elevators.

"Of course they do, you're an incredible writer." George pulled a face as if this were a fact everyone knew. You pushed the elevator button with a roll of your eyes, unsure how to handle his outlandish flattery.

"All because of the answers you gave me. You're an incredible subject." You fawned, feeling brave enough to in one fleeting moment.

"Then we make the perfect pair," George smirked at you, keeping his eyes on yours as you passed into the elevator doors. Your legs must have figured out how to move on their own because you felt a bit stunned still by the look in George's eye after his soft comment.

The Cirque show was just across the street in another hotel. But because Vegas was insane, it took you a solid fifteen minutes to cross between traffic and a packed hotel lobby to get to the venue inside. By the time you and George settled into your seats, you felt all too unworthy of what was happening.

"Thanks again for bringing me along. I don't know how I got so lucky." You huffed a nervous laugh, trying not to openly swoon over how close you were to the boy. His leg was just barely far enough away from brushing against yours, and you were meant to sit there like it was totally cool for the next hour.

"Trust me, I'm the lucky one." George nodded, turning his head toward the stage as the lights went dim. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and during the first few minutes of the show, all you could truly focus on was how close George was to you. You felt like a schoolgirl on her first date, and reprimanded yourself for letting your feelings get this way.

But halfway through the show, something astounding happened. It was more thrilling than all the acrobatics and dance numbers happening on stage before you. George let his fingers bloom across your palm before they fit perfectly between yours. He sat holding your hand with his eyes fixed on the show, while you tried to keep from melting off the seat into a puddle.

The show ended and you walked out of the theater together, quietly flooding out into the street that was somehow busier than before.

"Thanks for that. I've only been to Vegas for work and have never had time to do the cheesy trashy fun bits."

"Me either." George looked to you and you could tell he was brewing some idea behind his sparkling eyes. Just then, his full name was called out from somewhere beyond your shared gaze. That's when you realized you were still holding his hand. You took a step back, untangling your fingers when you realized a group of drunk college students were excitedly asking for George's photo. You watched from a few steps away and swallowed the silly blooming crush you couldn't shake. What happens in Vegas stayed, right? Maybe you were both just blinded by the ancient ideal.

But when the fans disbanded, George didn't waste a beat slipping his hand back into your grasp.

"Let's go have some fun." He waggled his brow the same as he had hours ago, smirking all the while.

You proceeded to drink and laugh and gamble and dance into the early morning. Your evening became a blur of flashing neon lights and booming bass notes. Even in your alcohol-fueled daze, you fully felt George's fingers linger on your shoulder as he led you to and from the dance floor. His touch was warm and steady and the only thing that made sense in the night full of fast-paced fun you had no time to process.

On the walk back to the hotel, reality threatened to seep in as your feet burned in your heels. When you realized you left your room key in George's room, you felt no shame in taking your heels off and walking the hotel carpet with a little more ease. "I'm all for a movie night in but that was so much fun."

"Me too. Let's have a movie night next." George grinned, wasted as you were.

"Yes!" You fawned in exhausted excitment.

He led you into his room where your room key sat waiting where you'd left it. But the thought of walking one more step made you want to cry. So you asked if George minded if you sat for a moment; settling on the tiny loveseat giving your feet a break and talking yourself into the last bit of walking toward your room.

Yeah, big mistake. Before you knew it, you were totally passed out there and slept soundly on the sofa in a room that wasn't yours. When you woke up and noticed your shoe's near George's by the door you felt so embarrassed for having crashed like that, your weak hangover trumped by shame.

"Shit." You mutter, quietly moving to sneak toward the door. Your cellphone rested on the counter next to your room key. But as you reach for your things, you hear George shuffle into the room. He's dressed for a new day in a plain button-up and suit jacket.

"Oof, I'm really sorry for falling asleep." You cringed, grabbing your room key, a little afraid to look right in George's eye.

"It's alright really." He nodded. "It was so late, I don't know how you slept on that little thing. But  I didn't want to move you and make it weird." George kind of grimaced, hoping his comment wasn't as equally unwelcome as he seemed to think the action might have been. "I'm sorry you don't have to leave just yet."

"I have a flight, actually." You frowned suddenly, wishing you didn't have to leave this place you hated a day ago. But as you unlocked your phone to make sure you weren't too late, there we're a slew of emails from your flight agency, canceling your morning commute again.

"And now I don't have a flight."

George's phone seemed to buzz to life at the same moment, it was a new day after all. He glanced at his notifications frowning the same as you just had.

"Well I was going to invite you to breakfast but I've got another meeting added to my list of a ridiculous amount of things to do today." George sighed.

You knew the fun would have to come to an end sooner rather than later, he was a busy guy, an increasingly important, beautiful, busy guy. And you were stuck in Vegas all over again, without much to keep you occupied from how much you'd grown to love it here, just a little.

"Maybe we can have that movie night if I get back early enough." George smiled, leaning over to retrieve his shoes from the doormat. You couldn't believe George had remembered your off the cuff remark from early this morning, but somehow his comment felt more like a raincheck, than an invite. And whether you were hungover or paranoid, you couldn't tell.

So you took the cue to gather your things, opting to carry your shoes and stood in the doorway.

"You know where to find me, then." You offered, too afraid of agreeing right off and seeming too desperate to spend more time with him. You wished George good luck with all his movie star duties for the day and sulked on the long walk back to your shitty matching room.

___

Your day was spent ordering room service, exhausted by the idea of going back out and about in all the madness that made up Vegas. You scrolled through a measly list of flights to take, opting to stay another night and hoping the storm would pass soon. Soon, the sun was setting and after a long bubble bath, you slipped into your favorite pair of pj's, planning to listen to some podcasts to make the most of this evening. But just as you finished cleaning up, a knock came at your door. You hadn't ordered more room service, and there was a sign dangling from your door handle warning away the maids.

You were surprised to find George on the other side of your door, looking happy to see you. You honestly hadn't expected to see him again, you thought your luck had run its course. And you spent the whole day trying not to reminisce over the way you'd grown more comfortable near each other as the night went on.

You greeted him with a smile, comfortable enough in your pj's when you noticed he was wearing joggers now, too.

"You shed the suit?" You laughed.

"I figured if we're having a movie night I better dress for the occasion," George smirked. You hung your head to hide your blush and opened the door wider for him to come in all the way.

Okay, so maybe you had failed to plan this far ahead, but you hardly cared what happened next. You and George floated to the sofa in front of the television, and he reached for the remote.

“Have you memorized the tv guide yet?” George prodded as you sat next to him, leaving a sliver of space for good measure.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been far too busy running around the city this weekend.” You smiled, turning your gaze toward the television, too skittish to meet George’s baby blue eyes this close up.

He clicked his tongue as if to say “what a shame” all while flipping through channels. He landed on Hallmark, tossing the remote down ceremoniously. You couldn’t help but laugh as the movie seemed to just begin.

“Is that Betty White?” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome.” George boasted over getting lucky finding this film queued up perfectly for the two of you on this spontaneous night. You spent a little bit laughing over the cheesy musical flares and dramatics that made up every great Hallmark film, this one included. But as the film played on, you couldn’t help but notice the bits of genuinely good storytelling peeking through.

George kept you laughing throughout the film, but near the end, both of you got quiet and watched in silence until the credits rolled.

“Damn. That was actually just a little bit good.” George spoke up, a little quiet. That’s when you noticed how close he’d gotten to you. The sliver of space you’d left at the beginning of the movie was now barely noticeable.

“Yeah.” You laughed, amazed by more than just the film. “This whole weekend has been surprisingly wonderful.” You spoke softly, daring to glance right at George, who had already fixed his eyes on you.

You couldn't tell who made the first move but the next thing you know, you're kissing him. You and George took turns sharing feather-light pecks, each of you chasing each other kiss after one ended. George was definitely the first to place both strong hands around the back of your head and kiss you like he meant it. You were nearly too stunned to kiss him back, but once you started the floodgates broke off their hinges and there was no turning back. You climbed into his lap and latched on for all it was worth because surely this was a dream and you weren't ready to wake up at all.

You savored the steady build of his fingers trailing down your arms while your kisses grew deeper, mouths pushing against each others like you’d been doing this for ages. Your hands had a mind of their own, creeping softly under the hem of George’s soft tshirt to his hot skin below.

"Hey," George gently broke your kiss and cupped your face in both hands. You practically held your breath as his shimmering eyes searched yours. "You okay with this?" George seemed to genuinely wonder. His voice was dripping with lust and his body was warm underneath yours. It didn't take a detective to read George like a book, but he still had the self-control and gentle heart to make sure you were comfortable. It only made you want him more. But you were still far too shy to say so, no matter your actions. So you bit your lip and hummed in sweet agreeance, wrapping your hands around George’s neck.

You watched George’s face stretch into a smile before he ducked his head to the crook of your neck where he let out a contented sigh before grazing his teeth along your skin. You squealed with delight when he swiftly pinned you down on the sofa to playfully pepper your face with kisses like something less heated was taking place.

"You know, now would be the perfect time to carry me from the couch to your bed." You rose an encouraging brow, reminding George of just this morning when he was too afraid of disturbing your sleep on his sofa that matched this one. George let out a laugh as he peeled himself off the top of you and picked you up bridal style in his impressively buff arms.

"Right this way, madame." George teased, carrying you through his bedroom door.

You had thrown the covers into place the best you could the last time you woke up here. George rested you gently on the bed, much like you were sleeping and he was afraid of waking you up. But your heart was beating fast enough to win a race, somehow increasing when George rested beside you, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“You’re very pretty, you know?” George blinked, whispering to you.

“I’m glad you think so.” You spoke back even quieter, reaching out to touch his face. He was so handsome it nearly stopped your heart. George leaned in for another kiss, this one slow and steady. You hadn’t felt so content in ages, you could have laid there kissing George forever and been happy. But then his fingers trailed down your side to grab your hip, and you swore you saw stars. George pulled your leg over his and now you were pressed against one another, kisses growing deeper still.

“This alright?” He asked almost timidly, as his fingers crept below your nightshirt.

“Yeah,” You breathed as George moved his kisses down your neck, and his hand to your chest. Your fingers splayed through his hair as he reached around your back to find the clasp on your bralette

“It’s in the front.” You giggled, feeling George smile against your skin.

“Very cute.” He hummed in your ear before kissing your jaw and finding the button. He shoved your shirt most of the way off, and you had to move out from under him to remove it all the way. Before settling back against the pillows, you pulled off George’s shirt so you could revel in the warmth of his skin.

You settled in his lap, each knee on either side of his hips throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him again, somehow still enjoying each brush of his tongue against yours like it was the first time. George signed into your mouth, each pleasant groan traveling straight down your spine. You rolled your hips against his, and George’s groans grew darker.

His fingers were lost in your hair and you found a steady pace to rock against him, drawing out longer whimpers from his lips with each new movement. Soon, his hand toyed with the drawstring of your shorts and he had to break away from your kiss to ask if he could take them off you could only muster an encourageable nod as your breath got caught in your throat. George laid you back, keeping those stunning blue eyes locked on yours all the while, only breaking away when he slid the last of your layers off. His fingers slid slowly between your legs as he laid next to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. How’d I get so lucky?” George spoke, you could feel his breath ghost across your lips while he went on building up the tension in your stomach. It didn’t take long for you to fill with fire, a contradictory chill shooting through your system. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“George,” You sighed, opening your eyes to look at him again, “need you.”

You watched his eyes go dark as he slowly moved away from you, slipping his joggers off and slotting himself between your legs.

“You’re sure?” He asked one final time.

“Please.” You groaned, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. With one last kiss on your lips, the Disney prince type, he pushed into you. If you thought the noises George had made before were beautiful, the ones he was making now could’ve moved you to tears. He found your hand and held it with one of his while the other slipped below your belly button.

Your heavy sighs and desperate moans synced up and you rode your highs on the edge of one another. George didn’t move off the top of you right away, instead, he stayed there with his face buried in your hair soaking up the quiet moment.

“That was wonderful, love.” George whispered in your ear as he fell to your side. You turned to face him, biting back a yawn.

“You’re wonderful.” You sleepily smiled. George pulled you against him then, and you rested your hand on his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. The steady rhythm puts you to sleep in no time.

___

The next morning came late, and the Vegas sun shone brightly through the space between the curtains you forgot to close.

George was still by your side, but you’d drifted apart in the night. So upon noticing his eyes were open and glued on you, you felt no shame curling up next to his side.

"This has been the longest one night stand of my life." You sighed dramatically, comfily resting your head on his broad shoulder. George was quiet for a beat and you were a bit worried you’d upset him. But then he spoke up, with a gentle voice saturated in sleep.

"Wanna see how long we can last? I don’t think I wanna stop waking up to you."

How could you say no? You’d spent the whole weekend saying yes to George, and look where it had gotten you. So you agreed to stay one more night in Vegas, hoping what happened there would last a lifetime.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Requests are open ♡

[the-dead-skwad]

Every Mom Ever X Damien Haas X Reader

Damien fluff 🥰 Had such an issue with my laptop getting this up but I hope you guys like it ❤

You looked down at the script laughing to yourself. At the top of the page it said in bold letters EVERY MOMS EVER. You only had a small part because obviously all the fans love to see the usual guys and normally you were on smosh games. Honestly it was the strangest/ best job you had ever had, getting paid to play games and be silly.

Scrolling down the script you noticed you were along side Damien which was perfect. You had been the closest friends for years now so it should be pretty easy. As you looked closer your heart started to pound harder and harder. "Oh jesus!" You said way louder than normal.

"Hey!" Shayne's head peeked round the door. "Whats up?"

Your eyes darted to him "Ermmmm.... have you seen Courtney?"

"Yeah she was just making a coffee" He pointed down the office.

You leapt out of your seat "Great!" you ran past him "Thanks!" shouting back to him just leaving him the most confused he's ever been.

Bursting through the canteen door Courtney nearly threw her coffee across the room. "Hey mannnnn.. Whats going on?"

"So..." you could litterally hear the panick in your voice "I'm in the next every blank ever right?"

"Yep!"

"And we all ricieved the script today right?"

"Yep!"

You took a huge sip off her coffee, like that was going to help you "Have you read it yet?"

"Nope!"

You sighed passing over your phone to her. Watching her face go through a journey of expressions would have been so funny if you weren't freaking out so hard. She placed your phone down gently on the table and turned to look at you "So, this maybe be the GREATEST DAY EVER!"

"No! Courtney this is the worst day ever!" You started to pace up and down the kitchen "I can feel my heart in my throat, my hands are sweating, I'm shaking."

She stood up and took both your hands in hers "Listen Y/N, your my best friend right?"

"Yeah..."

"And you trust me right?"

"Ermm yeah"

"And I've never steered you wrong?"

"Well there was that time you said we were getting pizza and instead sent me to a haunted house with Damien and Shayne."

She shook her head "That doesn't matter right now.. What I'm trying to say is, it's all going to be fine and you litterally have absolutely nothing to worry about, and besides I'll be there."

"Are you sure?" You squeezed her hands.

"Yes I'm sure."

A loud scream came from the office making you both jump. "Oh my god.... Shayne's read it."

--

It was the day of the shoot and you were super nervous. You hadn't let on how you were feeling to everyone except Courtney. She picked you up from your house, you sat in the car rambling on about something you and Damien had waatched the previous night.

"Soooooo...." she looked over at you smiling "Did anything happen?"

"No, I mean it was samazing as usual. We watched TV, ate shit, laughed and joked all night, but again nothing happened. I just don't think its going to happen mannn. If he liked me it would have by now."

"Maybe he just feels the exact same as you. Maybe he's too nervous to do anything."

"Yeah I don't think so... I'm just going to have to get used to the fact that we are just friends and even if my heart aches when I see him I'm just going to get over it."

Courtney squeaked a little "Dudeee! Your heart aches? Thats the cutest thing I've ever heard!" She beeped her horn as Shayne's car swerved infont of her "I promise you now I'm going to do all I can to help you."

"Thanks mann, I just need to get through this shoot first then we'll set a plan in action."

"Deal!"

You pulled into the work parking lot an got out. Shayne parked up next to you amd got out with a huge smile on his face "Good morning! I'm so ready for today."

"Hey Shayne." You smiled at him. Damien got out his passenger side and your heart nearly exploded "Morning Damien!"

"Hey you." He walked up to you and gave you a hug "It's been ages since I've seen you."

You looked down at your watch "Yeah! A whole 11 hours! How ever did you cope without me."

"Honestly if it wasn't for Shayne I probably wouldn't have."

"Yeah alright.. Lets get this shoot over and done with and then I need...."

Damien cut you off when he pulled a caramel iced latte from behind his back "This?"

"How in the fuck?"

Shayne's face popped up between the two of you "He literally made me stop to get that." You heard Courtneys happy squeak from behind you.

"Awhh thank you." You gave him a hug and turned to Courtney. Your eyes were nearly popping out your head.

--

You sat on a not so comfy bed on the set. The cheap black 'emo' wig stratched the top of your head, you rubbed your hands up and down your legs.

"Hey, you ok man?" Damien nudged you, he knew you far too well and clearly noticed you were nervous. "It'll be fine, we've been best buds for years."

"Yeah" you half smiled. The words 'best buds' was like a punch to the gut. You took a deep breath in through your nose and went to 'happy place' which ironically was sat at home with the smosh crew watch and eating shit.

"ACTION!" Gareth's voice made you jump.

"So.. this is your room?" Damiens teenage voice he put on would have made you laugh if you weren't in charecter.

"Yeahhh...." You both awkardly glanced at eachother "Sorry I can't close my door.. You know moms."

"DID YOU CALL SWEETIE!" Courtney burst through the door with her mom voice on.

"Ughhhh," You were trying your best teenage impression "God mommm! Leave us aloneeee!"

"Sure sweetie!" She slowly backed out the room "If you need anything I'll be out here."

You turned to look at him, your faces slowly got closer and closer. Your lips were literally inches away from eachother. Courtney reappeared "You sure you don't want a snack hunny?"

"Mooommmmmm!" You screamed at her.

"Cut!"

Your whole brain was fuzzy from almost kissing him. You knew you weren't going to as it wasn't scripted but thats the closest you have ever gotten to him even if you did spend nearly every waking minute together. Both of your eyes locked for a minute. You swear you saw something new in his eyes but you really didn't know what. "Ermm, I'm just going to talk to Court for a sec." You leapt out the bed.

She was getting changed out of the ridiculous Mom costume "See it wasn't that bad."

"NOT THAT BAD!" Breathing you calmed yourself down "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout but my entire insides are screaming. I don't know how much longer I can hold in these god damn feelings, its been years since I've felt like this, I know youv'e heard all this from me before but honestly I feel like I'm going to burst. How in the hell do you even tell one of your closest friends that you're head over heel inlove with them without destroying everything you have now. I mean if something was going to happen it would have by now. Jesus christ I feel like my heart is going to explode one day soon...." Your rant trailed off as you noticed courtneys face. Her eyebrows were raised so high they had nearly migrated off her forehead and her mouth was dropped wide open. "What?"

Someone behind you tapped you on the shoulder. Who ever it was has just heard everything you had said. You spun around to explain your self when you were met with those beautiful warm brown eyes. "Shit...." You breathed out "I..." Before you could even begin to apologise he placed his hands either side of you face and pressed his lips against yours. You kissed back instantly. It felt like your bodies just melted into one, like it was always supposed to be like this. You moved back and looked into his eyes and you saw it. Pure love.

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, both of you were smiling from ear to ear "Wonna grab some lunch?"

"That would be nice." You leaned in again for another kiss.

A very loud scream from the doorway broke you two apart. Shayne stood there with a bigger smile than the both of you put together. "Ian!" He screamed down towards the set "You owe me 20 dollars!"

　

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Panic! At the Floor || Morgan & Deirdre

@deathduty

TIMING: a couple of nights ago

LOCATION: Death Fam House

CONTAINS: Mentions/discussions of past abuse, detailed panic attack

Morgan rushes home after Deirdre abruptly logs-off on her.

"Where do emotions have their place?" The voice of Deirdre's mother echoed through the valleys of her mind. She could remember this question leveled to a young girl, perhaps ten or twelve, if the years mattered at all. She remembered the girl looked like her, had her name, but had grown so distant that she no longer felt like a piece of her. 

"Where do emotions have their place?" The voice of Deirdre's mother echoed through the valleys of her mind. She could remember this question leveled to a young girl, perhaps ten or twelve, if the years mattered at all. She remembered the girl looked like her, had her name, but had grown so distant that she no longer felt like a piece of her. And these memories, the ones she had, no longer felt like Deirdre's. She blubbered, a quivering grip on her knife. This was the second time she was asked to pick her favorite animal, and then watch as her mother tied the animal down ("Too tight! You're hurting him!" "It. I'm hurting it, and they're only animals." ). And the second time she raised her too-large knife against something, too small to summon a butcher's force but asked to anyway. "Not in a banshee," this girl answered. And then the animal was messily slaughtered. On her third time, she did not cry. Her mother said this was a great victory, she should be proud, she was learning the right lessons. On her fourth, she no longer had any favorite animals to pick, and so she took delight in counting them up and picking at random. The fifth time she learned how to make it quick. And by the sixth, she had grown accustomed to this ritual.

Deirdre now laid curled on the ground, clutching her throbbing chest, pounding with a pain she'd never felt before. It thumped with such force she thought it might rip through bones and flesh. And she heaved, spurred by her thoughts and these strange sensations. She sounded like those animals then, when she'd stuck her knife into their neck but not enough to kill, and their sounds turned from cries to whistled pain and heaved breaths. As if their lungs had forgotten how to take air. And Deirdre too, curled into herself, wheezing and failing to steady. Sometimes she took in too much air, other times she took in too little. Her laptop was shattered against the floor at her feet, a casualty of her scrambling to stop this onslaught of—what was it? Panic? She never knew what emotions were what, inside of her. But panic, at least, she had learned the feeling of a myriad of times since coming to White Crest. She recognized it just enough to know it was wrong, and bad, and she tried with great force to push it away lest Morgan find her in this state. Instead she heaved more, pain rippled worse from her chest and her legs refused to stand. She clawed at the tile, trying to find reprieve somewhere, beyond her, vaguely, she could hear the door creak open. The stairs were the other way, surely Morgan would see her if she crawled there. She tried for the patio, and she might have actually managed to move an inch or two before panic thrashed against her and possessed her body to curl into itself and remain immobile. In one last attempt, she covered her face with her hand, suffocating herself in the name of silence, hoping Morgan might simply pass her by.

Deirdre going offline was never a good sign. Maybe it was the context of their last message or maybe Morgan was beginning to trust her in a way she hadn’t before, but she knew with sharp-edged clarity that this wasn’t an ‘I don’t want you anymore’ kind of silence. She sped home, abandoned her stress purchases in the back, and ran inside the house. “Deirdre?” She called. Not in the foyer. Not in the front room. “Babe?” She called again. Not in the-- Morgan’s foot hovered over shattered glass as she heard it. A painful, whimpering sound, high and desperate. The kind of sound animals made when they’d been bitten, when they were suffering. Morgan edged around the island to follow the whining.

“Deirdre!” She couldn’t keep the worry out of her voice as she knelt to the ground. Her body was tight as a coil, trembling as if begging for collapse. She knew what this was. She had been here enough times herself, alone and begging her body for a mercy that always took a little too long to be granted. She hovered over her, searching for any injuries, any sign she’d hurt herself. “Hey,” she called, her voice soft and firm. “Hey, I’m here now, babe. You’re gonna be okay soon. I’m here.” Morgan reached out a tentative hand for her, squeezing her shoulder, trying to coax her into fighting the muscle spasms just a little harder, just enough to come into her arms. “Hey, can I hold you?” She covered Deridre’s hand with her own and pressed gently, hoping to give her something else to latch onto.

"Well if you're going to cry, don't do it in front of me. No one wants to see that." The disgust on her mother's face was clear. Deirdre opened her eyes, expecting to find the same expression across Morgan's face. For a beat, the confusion of finding concern and the wonder at seeing something so caring, halted the heaving and aching. But in a moment, the pain and panic rushed back with vengeance, coiled with guilt. She could not be quiet enough to hide, and she could not be strong enough to stop herself now. Deirdre tried to will her body to crawl away, but her arms reached for Morgan instead, wrapping herself tightly around her. It was her touch, she surmised, that hand on hers that reminded her that she wanted to hold Morgan—and keep holding her, for longer, as long as she could. At the thought of losing it, she heaved again. Her heart pounded in its cage, as if trying to throw itself against the wall of her bones. "I-I'm—" she croaked, stumbling through her apology. She hadn't expected Morgan to come home so quick, if this happened again, she'd know better—she'd be gone. She was sorry then, for not knowing better, for not doing better. Deirdre trembled against her, trembling more as she tried and failed to summon the power to move away. "—s-s-sorry."

Morgan welcomed Deirdre into her arms, catching her up tight, pressing her as hard and close as she dared with her new strength. She kissed her hair, her temple, anything she could reach without loosening her hold. “It’s okay,” she said, still even, still calm and soft. “You’re having a panic attack, but you’re going to be okay. I’m here with you, and there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’ve got you...” She squeezed her a moment, wishing it were as easy as willing Deirdre’s body to listen to her and be still. “Hey, can you breathe with me? I love it when I can match my lungs to yours at night. Can you do that, babe? Slowly, in for ten, hold for six, out for ten.” She tapped the rhythm on her back, whispering each number as she began. If Deirdre could hear her enough to climb into her arms, enough to apologize, she might be able to pull enough concentration together to breathe. There were other ways, other tricks she knew, but she hoped this one could be a start. “I’ve got you, my love,” she whispered, finishing her exhale. “It’s okay. Just try.” She started again. Tap, tap, tapping; one, two, three, four, five… In, hold, out.

A panic attack. Deirdre had heard those words before, but never imagined them to be used to describe her. We don't have those: seemed like something her family might say. That panic was of no concern to them, shouldn't have been. But she did feel like she was being attacked, so that part was fair at least. And she had no capacity to deny these claims now. Morgan's voice was gentle, urging, Deirdre obliged at first, wanting to give that to her. She drew her breath in time with Morgan—one, two, three, four, five—wasn't this what was done with children? This was how Deirdre learned to steady her breathing enough to pop bottles and rupture lungs. "I hate children," her mother reminded her. Deirdre heaved again, stubbornly trying to find her breathing away from Morgan. Yet, through foreign sensations and boiling panic, was tapping. Deirdre tried to count it; one, two, three, four, five...she could hear Morgan in her ear. Why was she breathing? She didn't need to breathe? Curious, her body met the strange pacing. She took in breath for ten seconds, held for six, expelled for ten again. She expected the tapping to stop, but it continued for another cycle, which—still curious—Deirdre followed again. Like an animal heralded by strange music, she hoped an answer would sit if she followed the rhythm enough. Eventually, she could count by herself, without the tapping. In. Hold. Out. Her thrumming heart dulled its ache, and her lungs remembered how breath was supposed to be taken in and pushed out. She trembled still, clinging to Morgan. But she finally had the sense to speak: "I'm sorry." I'll go, she wanted to add, but she knew her legs would not move. She leaned down, resting her head on Morgan's shoulder. "I'm sorry." She said again, weaker. "I'm sorry." And another time, even softer. "I'm sorry." Again and again until her voice cracked and she could say nothing more. She tried to find the breathing again, her trembling hand reached out to tap the rhythm against the tile. She couldn't remember it. "What is—" she swallowed painfully, finding her throat tight. "What is this?" Deirdre asked broadly, perhaps referring to the panic or the tapping or any number of the things happening to her now that she didn't understand.

“Hey…” Morgan twisted her head around to kiss Deirdre’s, firm and grounding. “Don’t be sorry,” she said. “You don’t have to be sorry, my love. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Without pulling away, she slid her arm up, high enough on her back to pull her hair away from her shoulders and work her fingers into the nape of her neck, scratching and combing gently. “You don’t have to be sorry.” If anything, Morgan was sorry for not thinking to bring some water down to the floor with them. Her bag was in the car, and even though the refrigerator was right behind them, she didn’t want to let go of Deirdre for anything. Her girlfriend’s grip around her was too frightened and stiff for Morgan to consider it.

“What’s what?” She asked gently. “You mean this?” she adjusted her grip on Deirdre’s back and resumed the rhythm again, steady as the seconds ticking by on the clock. “I learned it in therapy. Sometimes your body loses track of itself, and you have to help it find its way back. You find your way back home, you keep breathing the way you’re meant to, until the worst is over. Do you think you can breathe for longer, babe? A twelve count maybe? Or…” She knew what she wanted, but she had her doubts over Deirdre’s willingness. “Do you think you could tell me about it, at least a little…?”

Didn't she? There was so much Deirdre wanted to say and apologize for—Morgan said she had a hard week, that she wanted to be held, and now she had this, for starters—but the words were stuck in her throat. The first time she felt this level of panic, on Cece's porch, struck by how much she enjoyed Morgan's company, she assumed it would be a one time affair. And then it happened again. And again. And she understood it no better each time. Morgan soothed her, and in doing so, was rewarded with another mumbled apology from Deirdre. And the more she soothed, the more I'm sorry's bubbled quietly from Deirdre's mouth. When her voice couldn't sustain her whispering, her body began to flinch at every touch that was too kind, too gentle. The tapping made her go stiff, in the seconds in-between she feared the next would never come, or it would be the pressure of a fist against her or the stab of a knife instead. Morgan spoke of explanation, and Deirdre's body tensed again in the rejection of that idea. She had parsed it out in her head already: there was nothing that could be said, or done, to make her worries less. But she wanted to give to Morgan, all that she could, even explanations she found pointless. And so she tried. She focused on the tapping, she imagined that it was steady, and the next would come like clockwork. Then she imagined the words in her head: Mike had you killed, I don't like the idea of—"Humans will feel panicked or confused. We are better than them; banshees don't feel." Deirdre's breath hitched, she looked for the tapping again. "Who wants to hear someone talk about their feelings?" The tapping was steady, she listened to Morgan and extended the tens to tweleves in her breathing. "I feel bad," she mumbled, "inside. I feel bad inside. What is that?" She tried to list emotions in her head; guilt, panic, sadness, anger, confusion. Which one was it? She didn't know. She couldn't tell. She never could, she never was able to. But she knew every time Morgan led her through one of these strange episodes, she was plagued with insurmountable guilt. Of which Morgan said she had no need to be sorry. But then where did the guilt go? Stuffed away, like the others. "What else did you learn in therapy?"

“No, my love, shh. It’s really okay. I love you, it’s really okay, sshhh…” For every apology Deirdre insisted on giving, Morgan couldn’t help but answer with an assurance of her own. “You’re safe,” she went on, working into the continual cycle of words, balanced in perfect counterpoint to Deirdre’s. It was the saddest duet they’d ever had, but Morgan couldn’t stop. It seemed too much like giving in to the idea that she ought to be ashamed. She wanted to rub her taut muscles, to lay her out in the comfort of her bed and wrap her up fresh again, skin against skin, the blankets all but over their heads so they could hide from whatever was tormenting her. And she was being tormented, Morgan thought forlornly. Whatever thought, whatever memory, it must be something truly cruel to make her hurt this way. When Morgan kissed Deirdre’s face again, it was only a passing brush of her lips, a kiss of butterfly wings against her temple. Maybe if she was even softer, even quieter, Deirdre could rest easy against her and know every thing she said was true.

“It could be a lot of things,” Morgan replied, still tapping the steady rhythm on her back. “You might be dehydrated for one thing,” she gave this possibility lightly, brightening her voice the way Deirdre did for her so often. “I would cry myself sick a lot. It can hurt all the way down to your stomach sometimes. I’d get you water, but I’d hate nothing more than letting you go. You’ll have to come up with me if we do that.” Another kiss, slow and so careful. This couldn’t be one of the times her love left a mark. If there was anything monstrous inside her like Remmy seemed to think, it would have to stay locked at the bottom of her. She would not be something that hurt Deirdre, not even a little. “You might be tired-sad, if you’ve been down here for awhile. You might be scared, still, of whatever idea is hurting you. I’ve been sick with fear too before, and it’s just the worst. Depending on what’s bothering you, you might be mad, or worried. You might be all of these at once, or something else. I don’t know unless you tell me more.” She kissed her again and combed her fingers through the hair at the back of her neck, hoping to prove she wasn’t angry. She could hold out longer for Deirdre to say, to trust her. “I would like for you to. I want that very much. But even so I do know, my love, that you feel guilty for being this way. And I know my forgiveness counts for so little, because it comes so easy. Because I already know you're not doing anything wrong. So can you forgive yourself for me? Can you say you forgive yourself, Deirdre? I think it would help. You could be surprised by how much less it weighs, if you’d forgive yourself like I already have.”

She let that linger a moment, knowing how much easier it would be said than done. How impossible was it, really, from the darkness of the pit, from the clutches of her mother’s shadow? Morgan could hardly bear to imagine. “I learned other things to do. Like counting things, believe it or not. Five different things you can see, four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste.” It was a little cruel, a little useless now for a zombie, but perhaps she could give it to Deirdre.

All Deirdre could think to do was apologize. Would a different woman know better, love better, be less confused about the simplest of things? Should she apologize for that too? But Morgan was trying to assure her and explain that this display was okay. Yet, it didn’t feel like it was. “They cry because they’re weak.” But Morgan cried, often, and Deirdre had never regarded it as weakness. “No one wants insecure drivel.” And yet, Morgan was asking to hear her thoughts, as if they weren’t too heinous to share. Could it be okay, she wondered, to be like this? She kissed her like the brush of grass against skin, in the gentle morning before the dry heat turned the blades sharp. And for each touch, each gentle kiss, Deirdre’s body could not maintain its stubborn resolve to shield itself. She could remember, even in her state, that it was safe to surrender to Morgan. Deirdre listened to Morgan’s explanation, hoping her answer might be in the words and pauses. I don’t know unless you tell me. Deirdre swallowed, closing her eyes. She wished, with whatever part of her that still believed in a world that answered her wishes, that it was as simple as opening her mouth and letting the right words tumble out. “Only things with purpose have value.” Where was the value in explaining how worried she was, how afraid of losing Morgan, and how not knowing wracked her mind more than she could let on. If she explained her concern, Morgan’s mind would not change, and without a result, there was no purpose to a conversation. And how could she ask Morgan not to go off with Rebecca and rescue a knife? To not venture out to forests with hunters or talk to apathetic vampires? And what good did worrying do but distress Morgan? Her feelings carried no value.

What purpose could there be in explaining this? “I don’t,” she said. “I shouldn’t be---I’m sorry I’m--” Would it be easier with someone else? Would this be better? Would they no longer have to share these terrible moments? She listened again, surely Morgan would have an answer for her somewhere.

“That sounds---” pointless. “....does it work?” She tried it in her head. She opened her eyes: she could see the swirl of gray in their tiles, the fluff of Morgan’s brown hair (which had grown out considerably since her death, and was its own wonder to watch--she could never have imagined knowing someone long enough to notice when their hair grew) in the corner of her eye, the shattered laptop over there, that glass she’d left out thinking she’d pour herself some wine and then forgot, the ticking ornate clock on their wall (was it really that late already?). Then what she could touch: the cool tile she was tapping her finger on, Morgan’s steady tapping on her back. If she reached her hand up, she could feel the fabric of Morgan’s shirt, and so she rolled it under her fingertips. And, of course, the ever present pull to Morgan that coated her skin. She could hear the ticking clock beyond them, the faint humm of the night behind them, and the distinct buzz of the fridge in front of them. She could smell Morgan’s lavender, and the garlic remnants of the pasta she cooked and promptly left on the stove. She licked her lips: she could taste cherry (she had a slice of pie earlier). “I wish I was better,” she confessed, “at something. I’m not much of a banshee anymore, and I can’t manage these feelings. If I could just...do one, instead of so little of either, maybe…” Deirdre trailed off, she closed her eyes as tears streamed down. Perhaps, she imagined, if she was better at explaining her thoughts, Morgan wouldn’t have to do this anymore. “I don’t know what to do anymore, about anything. I don’t think it’s possible for me to---” Know better, be better. “Would you be happier with--” Someone who could? “I don’t---” Like the idea of you spending time with the person who released the ghost who killed you, but I know you won’t listen to me, and I know you shouldn’t. I won’t ask it. And, so, “in what place do my feelings matter?” If they couldn’t be resolved, if they were unpleasant? “Would you be happier if---” these feelings could be hidden better? “Do you remember that it’s Mike’s fault Constance was able to kill you?” Did that matter at all to her, or had Morgan also forgiven Rebecca for something that shouldn’t have been?

Morgan smiled sadly at Deirdre and extracted a hand to wipe away her tears, smoothing out the tight wrinkles of worry on her face as she did. “No one knows how to manage their feelings all the time. And you’ve never even had much of a chance to try,” she said. “I think you’re doing pretty good. You just need to be a little kinder to yourself. Maybe give yourself more time to get the hang of it.” She was better at it than fucking Miriam, that was for sure. “And, while I think you are a very good banshee, I know I--” Am, or was, part of the problem. Human entanglements. Human love. And yet Deirdre had chosen her, kept choosing her, kept insisting that she would stay and be constant for her, and do it happily. Morgan trailed her fingers gently down the side of her face, concentrating intently on being soft, the way she wished the world would be for Deirdre. “I’m happy with you, Deirdre,” she said solemnly. “You’re the one that makes me happy. My whole mortal life, I was never happier than when I was with you. And maybe I haven’t been happy much since then, but you’ve had something to do with it, when I have. Don’t doubt that, Deirdre. I don’t want to do any of this without you.” She touched their heads together briefly and listened to Deirdre’s slowing breaths. She could just remember how it used to tickle her skin, make her squirm into a different position if it fell too close to her neck. She missed that, those traces of Deirdre that she would never fully recover. It was still enough to make her cry with aching.

“I do remember,” Morgan replied, giving Deirdre a firm squeeze before settling back into her gentle rhythms of touch. “Is that what this is about? Because Mike surprised us at the ritual, and he let Constance loose?” It was a fair point. In her place, Morgan would be on edge too. “What if I promised you something? I know, you always say no, but maybe something specific, like, ‘if Mike comes out to ruin everything, I’ll leave him behind,’ or I will do everything in my power to accomplish this task and come back safely to you, and if I reach a point where i think in my heart I have to choose one, I will pick coming home first.’ Something that will help you worry less. Something that will help you know this isn’t over yet. Because the place where your feelings matter is right here, Deirdre. It’s anywhere we’re together. And even when we’re not it’s right here.” She took Deirdre’s hand on her shirt and moved it down to her cold, still heart. “You always matter to me. So let me promise. Let me be with you. Let me see you even when you’re scared.”

What did being kinder to herself look like, Deirdre wondered. She thought to ask, then thought better of it. She was kind enough to herself, she figured. Kind enough to have allowed herself to listen to her feelings in the first place, she didn’t need anymore kindness. “So...it’s fine? It’s okay that I’m---this is okay? It’s not---” She swallowed. Where had her confidence gone away? How could Morgan be okay with seeing her like this, so far from the woman that she was supposed to be. “But would you be happier if---” If it could be someone who maintained their charisma at all hours, who never faltered like this? Who could be just as good---better, even? If that magical person existed, would Morgan be happier with her? She tried to tell her it was okay, that she understood. That all she wanted was to see Morgan happy, no matter if she was in her life or not. “I know that can’t be true, entirely, I know being this--not knowing how to handle my---I hurt you. With all the not talking, and I know it’s---” Bad. Wrong. And it had been months since then, and in that time she was given, she had gotten no better at it. “I know.” And for that, she could not accept forgiveness. If she could no longer be a banshee like she was meant to, and if she could not be faultless for Morgan, then where exactly did she fit? Is that what this is about? Deirdre did not answer. She knew the truth would ask for an explanation she could not provide. She knew less of explaining her emotion than she knew of understanding what they were. She let her hand rest against Morgan’s chest, then she curled her fingers around the fabric of her shirt, bunching it up in her weak grip. Did she still fit there, in her heart? Should she?  The words, though she knew them well--about mattering to Morgan--held no meaning in her mind. She mattered to her mother, and her showing of it was so different. “No promise,” Deirdre grumbled, releasing the bunched fabric, trying to smooth out the wrinkles she made--trying to make it better, as if she’d never touched it. “Please don’t. I trust---aren’t those things you’d do anyway? I don’t want a---I don’t want---then all I’d think about are the loops and shortcomings and I couldn’t---please don’t give me that. I trust you more than I do any promise. Do you see why it---there’s nothing that can be done, do you see why it hurts to--” She gulped. And now Morgan knew, and now she would share that burden of helplessness. “I shouldn’t have brought this up. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have---” Her breathing slowly climbed back into something erratic, her heart sped up.

A tear rolled down Morgan’s cheek, unbidden, to hear Deirdre talk like this. It was so painfully familiar, from their past, from the pit inside her, it was so horribly, unfairly familiar. Then another fell. Another. “It’s more than fine,” she said. “It is okay, it’s always going to be okay. Deirdre--” She slid her arms around her tight, binding her against her chest. “All I’ve ever wanted is the real you, as much of you as I’m allowed. I want you when you’re scared, and I want you when you’re sad, and when you’re lost, and anxious, even angry.  I want you, Deirdre. I love you and I want you so badly, even the parts you try to hide. I want to have them too. That hasn’t changed, I don’t think it ever will. I promise you I want you like this too. I promise it’s okay to be messy with your feelings. It’s kind of our thing, right? And I don’t want some fake happy all the time anything, I don’t even think if I’d know what to do with something like that, much less want it. I want to be with you however you are, for as long as you want me too.” She was beginning to babble, struggling with the urge to blame herself, or at least to ask why Deirdre wasn’t certain of this already. But she was in the pit, or something like it. She couldn’t see half of what was around her. She didn’t know. And not once in all her reassurances had she ever chided Morgan for wondering. How could she give anything less, however much her dead nerves fluttered with concern? How could she be any less kind, any less gentle with her love?

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--

“Ssshh, I’m glad you did,” Morgan said. Moving her hand to rest over Deirdre’s heart now. “I want to know. I wouldn’t have been so flippant about it in the first place if I’d known. I don’t want you to hurt needlessly, but I do want to know. And I’ll try harder, I’ll be more careful, I’ll come back to you.” She pressed her palm into her chest. “Breathe again, babe. Hold onto me tight and breathe again.” She began to tap again, fingertips now on her chest, just over the space where her heart was climbing higher with distress. “You don’t want me to promise so I’ll just tell you: I’ll come back to you. I love you and I won’t let anything stop me from coming back. I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep this. I’ll come back. Now breathe…”

"Why are you crying? Why are—Did I—" Deirdre brought her hands up, cupping Morgan's face and wiping tears away with her thumb. Her anguish slipped away easily for concern, and she might have given up her attempts at explaining her feelings to focus on Morgan if her words didn't strike her still. "It's okay?" She asked, awed, then confused. "But that's—I just don't understand why—" She swallowed, vaguely aware then that she couldn't understand why she mattered to Morgan, still. Blind to any value that she had left herself, her imagination struggled to imagine the meaning to Morgan's assertions—but she trusted them, and was sure that could be enough. She opened her mouth to apologize again, but had just enough sense to stop herself. "I don't know why—I don't know what any of that means, for me, really. Like when you say I'm kind, and I don't understand how or why or what that means and I'm sorry because I know it's true, I know you believe it and it's important to you but I just don't understand. And I've never understood it. And I keep trying to and I can't and I—" Wanted to understand things. Wanted to know. And each moment she couldn't, she felt like the same little girl that begged for the world to be explained to her; why the humans cried and why they were so cruel and where she fit. And then she had her answer, and her mother explained it and then—then there was this. And her mother's teachings failed her here and the world was strange again. "My mother said they don't matter and it—if it matters to you then she was—" Wrong. And then what did Deirdre have left to cling to? What had she spent all that time learning? What purpose did her life have? It was too cruel, too selfish, to weigh these questions on Morgan. And so, she did not. Instead, she failed to breathe. Failed to stop her heart from kicking back up into a pace that was unnatural for her. She clasped her hand over Morgan's on her chest, her fingers curled into her palm to let her fingers tap their strange, magical rhythm. She obliged, holding tighter and breathing in time. As soon as her body relaxed enough for words, she tried them. "Don't be. More careful; don't be. I won't ask that. I can't—you can't ruin your life like that, by making it careful. Not like—you had so much of that, and I won't—I don't want you to do it again. I want you to live exactly how you want, as reckless or free or—" she swallowed, turning back to the breathing as her voice cracked too much to be coherent. When it was steady again, she went back. "I know I'm wrong. I know it's pointless to be so—it's just that—I won't know if something—and I can't stand not knowing. I need to know, I need to—" Deirdre heaved, she figured she'd spoken enough and slipped back to focusing on the tapping and the breathing. She tried to remember what she could see and touch and hear, instead of how panic and pain coiled around her.

Morgan’s eyes fluttered shut at Deirdre’s touch. She lifted a hand to press Deirdre’s closer, harder to her cheek. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just wish I knew how to tell you better, how I see you. How amazing you are, how much goodness you have in one hand, much less all of you. You know me and my feelings.” She gave a watery smile. “And you don’t really mind me, do you? You don’t think it’s bad, right?” She didn’t. Deirdre would never. But for some reason that gift was too difficult to extend to herself. “You don’t like to see me hurt, but you wouldn’t make me hide them from you. Why would I want you to do it either?” She turned her face inward to kiss Deirdre’s palm. “I could try to explain. If you want? Would you like me to? I could list all the things you’ve ever done that showed me how kind you are, or all the things you’ve said to me that show it, or all the people that would agree with me. I could show you the letters and gifts in my Deirdre box. I can do that, if it will help.” She brought her fingers down to her lips to kiss. “Your mother has been wrong about a lot of things before. And she is wrong, about your feelings. They are so precious to me, Deirdre. Aren’t mine to you? And if you were in your mother’s place, if you had a banshee daughter, you wouldn’t make the same choices, would you?”

Morgan held her as she breathed, making her lungs follow the rhythm, bringing Deirdre into synch with calm. “I am sorry that I can’t give you anything to make it better. I don’t know what it’s like to have that security, to ever be able to know. I just worry for you when you go, and I trust you. I’ve never had the chance of doing it any other way. I wish I could give you something more. Because I would. I love you and I would...” She pulled her close again, still tapping, still breathing, just and only for Deirdre.

"No, no, of course I don't!" Deirdre's response tumbled out instantly, her eyes wide at the idea she could ever have a problem with Morgan. "But that—" she tried to rationalize, swallowing thickly. "—isn't the same. I love you. I don't love—" Herself, though admitting it felt strangely terrible. "You don't—it's not your fault, Morgan. You've done so much for me, and you're great at...everything, really. Just knowing you love me is more than enough; it's strange and wonderful, and I don't understand that either but it makes more sense to me now than it did weeks ago." She relaxed into Morgan's touch, content enough to simply fall asleep. Half-hoping, in some perverse way, that she'd wake up and find this moment just a dream, and the pain of being rendered raw and vulnerable again would stop her from any such display in reality. "You don't have to say anything, Morgan. Prove anything to me; you shouldn't have to. You say it enough, it's just—it's my fault I don't understand it. And I'll figure it out." Deirdre said softly, sighing. She leaned in, ready to kiss Morgan and be done with the conversation. But she paused, hovering her lips just shy of Morgan. "What?" She breathed, then pulled back—eyes wide and brows furrowed in confusion. She leaned further away, betrayal claiming her features. With a short burst of energy, Deirdre pushed away from Morgan, tumbling back a few feet away. The betrayal, the hurt and anguish that played through her, though pointed at Morgan, wasn't for her. Directed inwards, she tried to parse Morgan's words to no avail. "Why would you say that?" Inside her, something was chipped at. If you had a banshee daughter… "That—" The answer sat plainly at the edge of her tongue, though she dared not to bring it into existence. "You shouldn't—it wasn't—she's not wrong. My mother isn't—she's not—" Her goal was to raise a remorseless killer, and she would have succeeded perfectly had her daughter not...gone off. Had her daughter not been sitting on the floor, confused and terrified like some child. Her shortcomings were her fault, not her mother's. But she knew, without doubt, that she could never raise a child the way she had been. To subject anyone to the senseless slaughter of animals, to break their bones and spirit, seemed wrong in a way Deirdre couldn't explain. Her great-great-grandmother tried to teach her with glass bottles, but the process was slow—her mother made mastery quick, with Deirdre spurred to individual study by the pressure she placed. It was vital a banshee learn quick, and more so for Deirdre to control her screams before adulthood. She was not wrong. And yet, "that's not—it's—" And yet, she could not speak to defend her, or refute the claim. So she sat there, tormented by thought.

“It’s not your fault either, Deirdre,” Morgan said, “You’re just learning. It takes time. And maybe even some practice. Isn’t that the way with everything important?” Morgan continued to hold her, smiling, nuzzling her as she relaxed. If Deirdre fell asleep like this, she fell asleep. Morgan would carry her to bed and hope she didn’t knock her legs into the stairwell on the way up. She was beginning to relax herself when Deirdre pulled back, her face no longer content but--betrayed, hurt.

Oh no. No. No, she’d done it again. She scrambled backwards in time to find the spot where she’d gone off course. How had she fucked it? She was telling Deirdre she was a better person than she realized, how had she fucked it? Morgan’s grip slackened and suddenly Deirdre couldn’t get far enough away from her. She was panicking, and she didn’t want-- Morgan’s hands fell to her sides. She watched, slack jawed and stiff with fear and tried to understand. “I--Deirdre--Please, I--”

My mother-- that’s not--it’s--

Oh. Oh.

She’d trapped them both. Deirdre wasn’t ready to understand how badly she’d been mistreated, how completely, unfairly wrong-headed her formative years had been. Morgan had sprung it on her recklessly, without even thinking, because to her it was simply true: Deirdre would never hurt a child the way she’d been hurt. She was too kind and understood too much of love, even now, to go through with something so cruel. If Morgan took her words back, she was siding with all of that hurt. If she pushed--stars, she didn’t even know what, but it didn’t seem good.

“Come back,” she whispered. “We don’t have to do this right now. We can just go to bed, and hold each other, a-and table this for another night. Come back…” Was she being selfish? Was it wrong to suppose that Deirdre couldn’t swallow the truth on her own right now, or that it was even possible to set it aside once it was staring her dead in the face? What if she had opened something they had no choice but to ride out, or break trying? “Talk to me,” she tried again. “Tell me what you need…”

There was only so much time her body would allow being apart from Morgan, especially having to watch fear on her face too. Deirdre moved back to the only place she knew true comfort, eager to work that panic off of Morgan. “Do what?” She asked softly. She could feel something hung in the air---something she could not name or see. Yet, somehow, something Morgan was privy to. Morgan always was wise to things Deirdre could not fathom, and so the banshee reached for her, asking to be taught how to see them too---if she could share in that world too, or simply know it. She searched for Morgan’s hand, groping along the floor blindly to avoid having to tear her eyes away from Morgan. “What is it---what are you saying? Can you tell me---I want to hear what you’re thinking.” And Deirdre was curious to know what conclusions Morgan had pulled that she struggled to see. Like that time in bed, she could feel there was something Morgan wasn’t saying. Deirdre had just enough sense to feel it was held back for her sake, but she could think of nothing she needed to be protected from. And so, she asked--begged--to be told. “What is it? I just---” She deflated, “I just want to understand. I don’t want to ask you to do this, if you can’t say it but I...I need you to explain it, please. I want to know. I think I--I think I have to know.”

Morgan latched her arms around Deirdre as soon as she came close again. She felt guilty for being this relieved, for not knowing if she was pressing Deirdre against her chest for her sake or for her own. She knew the last thing she wanted was for either of them to be alone tonight. And yet as Deirdre spoke, as she asked her so quietly, so desperately for answers, she knew she couldn’t deny her. How could she? She so rarely asked anything of Morgan outright. What else was there to do? Even if she tore herself out of Morgan’s arms again, even if she broke, Deirdre had asked. Morgan went stiff as she searched for some kind of resolve to pull upon. She hugged Deirdre tight, burying her face in her hair and shoulders, pressed hard so she could feel even some of it herself. She pulled back, pressing a parting kiss to Deirdre’s temple, and did her best to meet her eyes. “Okay,” she said softly. “Okay....” She wasn’t good at putting things gently. When she knew the answer to something, she blurted it out. But how did you blurt something out like this? How did she say without being callous, without taking part in that cruelty? “What I was thinking was…” She swallowed thickly. “That you wouldn’t. You would never make the same choices your mother did with you. You would be gentle to a child. You are--you already are gentle with children and they aren’t even yours. If you had a daughter, you would be kind to her, and you would teach her in a way that hurt as little as possible. Because you...you’re a good person. And I think some part of you knows that the things your mother did to you were wrong. And they were. They were so wrong. She shouldn’t have done any of that to you, even to teach you. And knowing that...knowing that even a little must be terrifying. What I wish you knew is that you didn’t ever deserve it, not once. You never deserved to be treated that way. No child deserves to be treated the way you were. Not you, not any of them. I can’t imagine how lonely it must have been. How lonely it must still be. And I...I don’t want you to stay that lonely, I want everything for you…” She swallowed, watching Deirdre carefully. “That’s, um, that’s what I was thinking…”

Deirdre listened, and when Morgan was done explaining, she leaned in and kissed her--plainly, just as she would any other time, as if nothing in particular had been said. In parting, she lingered, shifting her arms to hold Morgan close too. “Thank you,” she said first, and then let silence sit over them. Morgan was right; she wouldn’t. And part of her had come to question the validity of her mother’s teachings, Morgan was right about that too, as she was with so many things. But she needed to hear it clearly, that there was something wrong, before she could start to believe it, and there was no opinion she trusted better than Morgan’s. But there were things irrefutable: she wouldn’t have learned control so quickly without her mother, she wouldn’t have been half the effective killer without her, and she wouldn’t be here, with Morgan, without her. For these simple reasons, Deirdre could not condemn her, knowing Siobhan had done her job just as she was raised to. In the end, she wondered if there was something wrong with the legacy her family upheld. The one woman who might have given her the gift of an honest answer, despite its difficulty, just as Morgan had now, was dead. The question remained with her. “I like hearing your thoughts,” she said softly, choosing to make no explicit comment on if she agreed--she knew the pained smile on her face was proof enough. “Your childhood wasn’t easy either. How did you...get so wise about it?” And why  hadn’t she figured it out? Deirdre lifted her hand, brushing back strands of hair away from Morgan’s face, kissing the space she cleared. “I’ve been looking for the answer to that for so long. It was---thank you. It was all I needed to hear. I just wanted to know, for certain.” She pulled back, the pain on her face had given way to affection and gratitude. “I want everything for you too; I love you, Morgan.”

Morgan had braced herself for any number of things after telling Deirdre the truth, but she hadn’t considered that Deirdre would kiss her. She let her, lips parted, too stupefied to give much in return. She brought her hands up to press her close again. Was the earth shattering feeling going to come later? Was Deirdre locking this away or controlling the fallout somehow? Morgan didn’t know, but the thing to do seemed to be to trust Deirdre and follow her lead. “I-I...I’ve been in and out of therapy since I was eighteen. If a licenced professional insists on using the word ‘traumatic’ to describe your childhood, you kind of have to listen.” She swallowed, meeting Deirdre’s pained smile with one of her own. “I could never be totally...I always had to leave things out, but eventually…” she shrugged. Eventually, there was no way around it. The only question she had left, that would always be left, was why. Why do this to her? Of all ways to ‘protect’ against the curse, why this? “And before all that I would visit other kids. And I’d see their moms, and their families. And I’d wonder...why other moms were...different than mine. Someone else’s mom tries to give you a nice dress or an extra snack because they feel sorry for you...wonder about it. You see them look at their kids in a way you don’t get, you wonder about that too. So the question was there, it was in me for a while. But it took time. You need to be kind enough to yourself, to give yourself that.” She looked at Deirdre carefully, daring to lift her hand to her face, to brush her fingers over the soft swell of her cheek, the line of her jaw. She still couldn’t imagine how anyone could touch her with violence or anger. Not when she was so soft, when she made herself so strong in spite of what she’d had to suffer. She met her gaze, searching and solemn. Was she really okay? Was there even such a thing as an ‘okay’ way to take any of this? “And I love you, Deirdre,” she murmured. “So very much. I do…” She pressed a kiss to her cheek and drew her into her arms again. “Is there anything else? Something I can do for you right now? Anything?” Deirdre wasn’t speaking about her mother outright, and Morgan didn’t dare press. She wanted her like this, in her arms, loving her, close to her, where Morgan could at least imagine that she was capable of comforting her. “Whatever you need, or want...”

“I don’t know what other families are like. And banshees are so rare that…I was told they’re all like mine. Or that they should be. My mother says--” Deirdre swallowed and cut herself off. Her mother said a lot of things, that there was only one right way to raise a banshee and this was it, that she didn’t need to bond with other people when she had her family, that all fae should be like them. If there were clues that could have helped a conclusion be made, she wasn’t allowed to find them. It must have been true, in a way, her mother was incapable of lying...or so she said. But this revelation weighed heavily on her, and she leaned easily into Morgan’s touch, tired from it. “No, I--I’m good. I don’t need anything. You have---you have no idea how much this helps me, Morgan.” And there were things she needed to do now, a conversation she was due to give her mother. But for now, all she wanted was to be with Morgan. “I’m sorry about yours, Morgan…” Deirdre’s soft smile turned lopsided, her eyes glinting with amusement as she continued, “though do you often think of me with a daughter or…” She grinned, her best effort to cover what was heavy and hard with something to give Morgan, even if it was the smallest moment of a joke. “I’m kidding,” she leaned in and kissed her quickly, before pushing off the floor and pulling Morgan up to her feet with her. “Bed? You said you wanted to be held, right? I can do that, I’d like to do that. And, well, I’d rather not think about our mothers while we’re there.” Deirdre smiled, holding Morgan’s words in her head. She must have given her a hard time, hadn’t she? With her own stubbornness to avoid being helped or comforted---she could explain with her words that this alone was great help, was more comfort than she’d ever known. And that Morgan helped her more than she could say in words. How hard was it to see how much she’d grown and changed and was led through the aching parts of her life all for the better? She offered her explanation the best way she knew how, a transparent gesture. “Will you carry me there?”

It was so insidious, how Deirdre’s mother insulated her child from anything that might help her. But she was trying. She knew now, and she was trying. She could get out from under it, and if there really was a force that gave a single damn about balance, it would make it so that Deirdre loved herself. Loved herself at least half as much as Morgan loved her. But Stars, how long until then? Another 32 years? Even if it was a blip in a 500 year lifespan, it was hardly fair. If Morgan could simply put her hand on her heart and carry her off to the finish line she would. But looking at her now, tired in her arms, quiet and weighted down as this revelation sank in. Morgan had to remind herself that Deirdre couldn’t lie to her when she said this helped. And so she let the touch of relief enter her. “Okay. Okay…” she said, smiling back. “And, uh, yeah. Me too.”

She went still with embarrassment at Deirdre’s joke, would have blushed even, if there was any fresh blood to rush to her face. She stammered wordlessly. She didn’t not think about it. How could she avoid it with Ariana coming by? Or Blanche? Or even how good she was to their friends? And then with the neighbor kids coming by the yard, seeing a screeching girl in pigtails and a princess costume launch herself at the squidward bounce house, how could she not? But it wasn’t serious. It wasn’t the future. She wasn’t planning a hostile takeover of the family estate in Ireland or counting the pros and cons of banshee siblings or picking out names. She couldn’t even imagine herself being brought along for something like that. She still struggled to imagine being held and kept with this much love more than a year later. (But Deirdre had trusted her, she’d listened to her over the sound of her mother and everything else she’d been taught. And she was so solid and firm in her arms. Could she have really meant it, when she talked about their lives being spent together? Could Morgan really be--?) Morgan beamed, sheepish, as Deirdre kissed her, and let herself be pulled up to her feet.

At the sound of her request, Morgan’s questions melted away and her smile turned bright. She asked, more often that was necessary, to carry Deirdre. The only time her banshee had considered it, she’d been zonked out with sleep already. “Yes. Bed, no more mom-talk for tonight, carrying you, yes!” She crouched low enough to sweep her off her feet in a bridal carry--that, thanks to Morgan’s size, left her a lot closer to the ground than she normally stood. Her legs dangled comically over to one side, all but grazing the island. Morgan tried to hold back her laugh behind her smile and failed. Deirdre was doing this for her, all for her benefit. And maybe she didn’t understand how much she gave already and labored under some awful premise of needing to offer ‘enough’, or maybe it was compulsive, as Morgan’s own affection often was. Whatever the case, Morgan couldn’t bring herself to turn it away. She walked them as far as the stairs, wincing as Deirdre’s shins knocked into the railing. “Um...maybe we should...put your legs around my waist instead,” she offered, easing her grip on her long limbs accordingly. “You know, we could do this more often,” she said, fumbling to adjust herself. “I really don’t get to appreciate your legs for days normally, but right now?” She smiled, running her hand along one of them, “I’m kind of smitten.”

Being carried by Morgan was...an experience, to say the least, though the grin of delight on Deirdre’s face did not falter. Instead it grew as she cackled when her legs grazed walls and tables, and finally when she hit the railing. She couldn’t remember the last time being this fun, but she had been more or less asleep then. “How am I going to do that?” She laughed, offering out a pleased humm as Morgan finally gave her legs the attention they were due. She hadn’t been dangling them over chairs and propping them up on tables to have them be passed over. “Are you? And to think, they’ve been so neglected. They’re almost mad at you about it.” Deirdre adjusted herself, following Morgan’s suggestion. “Now--” she grunted, gripping the railing to hoist herself up as she wrapped her legs around Morgan’s waist---like some strange koala-wrestler hybrid. “So is this what you meant? Because---” She was still taller than Morgan, and choosing--deliberately--to hold on to Morgan from the front, her body covered her face.  “How’s your vision? Great view, I bet.” She used her hand on the railing to stop from toppling Morgan over as she pressed herself closer. “No, you’re right, this is much better. Carry me like this.” And, just as deliberately, she refused to let Morgan lean out to look at the stairs, wiggling and twisting to make sure she covered her sight. “Don’t drop me, Morgan, I am but a frail maiden. My bones are glass, my skin paper, my dietary habits...pie-centric. Oh, what pain to be dropped from…” she turned her head to try and calculate her distance from the floor. “...two feet.”

“Aww, well, I’ll be sure to apologize to your legs sometime soon. Don’t want them to think they aren’t as great as the rest of you.” Morgan said. She paused, steadying herself on the rail while she supported Deirdre, fighting back a bigger smile. Deirdre glowed with mischief in a way that made the angle of her eyes stand out and her cheeks flush. It was so fae, so her, Morgan nearly toppled them over with distraction by staring.

“Hey!” protested. “You are like...at least three feet off the ground. Almost four! You might actually bump something on the way down…” She wrinkled her face with mock upset. “Besides, there is one thing you’ve forgotten, besides our incredible physical proximity. It’s that I’ve been up and down these stairs a lot of times. And--” After one wobbly, not that confident step up, and one hand on the rail— She looked at Deirdre, gaping smugly. “Would you look at that?” She took another. “Guess this zombie doesn’t need to see to make do. I’m a one woman undead powerhouse! I bet you I don’t even need—” She made it three more steps before her foot slipped and she stumbled, almost crashing them both into the stairs with a yelp. Morgan straightened them and gave Deirdre a sheepish grimace. “We can write this off as ‘romantic gesture accomplished’ if you just wanna, you know...get to bed faster. As long as you actually let me help you with things later?”

“Mhm, you’re quite the wonder, my love.” Deirdre tightened her grip on the railing as Morgan wobbled, snickering as carrying someone blindly upstairs was as challenging as she imagined it would be. And though Morgan’s body wouldn’t break if she fell (Deirdre never would have dared anything like this otherwise, she didn’t think Morgan would even be capable of carrying her if not for the zombism), she could do without them tumbling down. “Or…” she tried, leaning out of Morgan’s face and curling her body around her side. “Or I make it easier for you. You’ve been up these stairs a lot of times, right?” Deirdre smiled softly, miraculously filled with more affection than she had been---though Morgan could not see her face. “It’s not so bad, letting you carry me.” She hummed, “wouldn’t want to stop now, would we? Seems like it might be a shame.” Her hand remained on the railing, steadying them through the impractical trek up the stairs. “I’ve just gotten so comfortable up here.” She paused, glancing up. It would be awhile before they made it to their bed, at the pace Morgan was going. But they had time, and Deirdre treasured moments like these just as much as she did the gentle ones shared in their bed. “I don’t see why we can’t have both,” she tried to press her lips to Morgan’s face, laughing as she nearly fell out of her arms with the gesture. “But it wouldn’t be so bad if you hurried.”

With actually being able to see where she was going, Morgan was able to do a lot less guesswork and a lot more hauling ass up the stairs. “And why’s that? Because I skip leg day or because this is just so much fun for you?” She teased. She smirked, almost glad she couldn’t flush anymore, and powered up the last bunch, fast as she could (which was not very, almost a slow trot) and spun them around triumphantly when she reached the top. “How’s that for the walking dead?”

It was only a few more strides down the hall before she kicked open their door and launched them with a jogging start into the bed, declaring, “Incoming!” Before they crashed onto the mattress hard enough to send throw pillows flying. Morgan smirked, a quiet laugh bubbling up in her throat, and propped herself up, arms folded, on her girlfriend’s chest, pinning her down. “You know, I think you’re onto something, this is a lot more fun,” she teased. “We should just stay like this all night. I definitely can’t think of anything else we could be doing.” She was getting better at holding a straight face, but one look at Deirdre, her hair splayed all around the sheets, the distress banished from her features, her smile wide, Morgan lost all hold of the pretense and kissed her, gentle and deep. The touch was still just a whisper of touch, half desire, half dream, and perhaps just a touch of everyday magic. But that had always been how they fit together, hadn’t it? Morgan pressed closer, harder, until the sensation clicked into place and her skin felt as though it had found somewhere to belong. She grinned against her girlfriend’s cheek. “Well, maybe I can think of one thing…”

"Walking is generou—Oh!" Deirdre gripped Morgan tighter as she charged, laughing with surprise—only mildly terrifying from the odd angle she'd latched on to Morgan—as they landed on their bed. So, that was what that felt like. Well, now she knew. "You're a dork," she chuckled softly, turning her head to look at Morgan, pleased as a cat, to be propped up on her chest. This was a delight rare and precious, and once thought taken away from her by death—yet, here it was. And it was coming back with shocking regularity. What else was she to want but to share in that happiness? But to see it last, to spread it out under her fingertips and play it out? Deirdre reached her hand up, pulling Morgan's hair out of the way as they kissed, happy enough to leave it there even as they parted. She felt like a fool. She always did, in some small way, in the face of the enormity of their love—but more so now, hearing the lift of Morgan's voice, the slight accent that hung around certain words. The crescendo of its drops and rises, seductive or teasing. To see her face taken with a smile, wide enough to crinkle her eyes, still in that cool shade of blue Deirdre had looked into countless times before. How obvious it was then that love could be like this, and how clear that her mother had been wrong about a hundred things. How could this be something she wasn't allowed to share in? How could Morgan be anything but the beautiful creature that she was? And like a fool she felt, realizing the answer was so obvious. Deirdre smirked, "does it happen to be same thing I'm thinking of?" And then she kissed her, long and deep, and again and again and until it was impossible to keep count and the desire to was replaced with another.

And like that, well into the night and cresting into the next day, she knew there was a lot of work to be done, or undone. But for the first time in her life, she was happy being exactly where she was.

[angellesword]

Silver Dust

Summary: Yoongi proposed to you and you're contemplating whether to say yes or no.

Pairing: Songwriter Yoongi x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff, and fluff.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings/ author's note: I wrote like a whole ass song using Cypher pt.4 beat lmaooo, kissing, minor smut, mention of rape, abuse, killings, and corruption.

<<< The first meeting >>>

The first time you met Yoongi's eyes wasn't really that special.

There was no sign of your heart skipping a single beat, if there was, you're 100% sure he's not the reason behind it because 1) you pretty much believed it's just the effect of drinking three shots of espresso in one sitting. 2) You were damn nervous since your prelim grades were already out.

You didn't even feel any butterfly in your stomach, nor did your world light up—and this, to be honest, was understandable, especially when Yoongi's eyes were dead as fuck. You figured that if it wasn't for your shared seven am class, he would probably still be lying in bed.

"The professor said you're my partner for this project." Even the first time you heard his voice wasn't special.

If there's one thing that made Yoongi Yoongi, it's his monotonous voice. At first, you thought he just didn't like the idea that you two were stuck together to work on a project. (Again, it's understandable) You also found it ridiculous that your professor actually paired you with a stranger.

Well, it's not like you knew Yoongi. Unless knowing his full name counted. But really, it's inevitable since the two of you went to the same classes since freshman year (you're a senior now) apart from that, almost all your professors never failed to voice out their adoration for him.

You first heard his name when your history instructor made it very clear that Min Yoongi's works would be his "standard" when it came to grading your individual projects. In short, if Yoongi got an A, you and your classmates should also either get an A or an A+ or else, you're considered 'failed.'

It’s kind of fucked up, really. Most of you knew that Min Yoongi was a monster when it came to collecting As. Unfair. All he did during class lectures was sleep and yet, he still managed to be number one.

Huh. It must be awesome to be God's favorite.

There was also this one time when one of your professors, Mr. Bang, cried when he asked Yoongi to read his essay in front. The smart boy was reluctant at first. He despised exposure, that's for sure. However, the professor's so persistent that Yoongi obliged just to make the annoying instructor shut up.

You're actually glad Mr. Bang managed to persuade Yoongi. His speech about finding yourself and being happy made Mr. Bang and almost everyone in your class cry. Yoongi transformed into a completely different person the moment he started his speech. Monotonous Voice? Gone.

You figured that yes, your heart didn't skip a beat when you first caught his eyes, but boy did your heart hurt when those simple words leaving his mouth turned into a piece of art.

<<< Your one brain cell >>>>

The second time you met Yoongi's eyes was in front of his house. The two of you decided to work on your project at the school's library, however the place was loaded with students cramming their paper works and you just couldn't bear to hear another person aggressively typing on their laptop anymore. You were sick of it.

"Uh, hi?" you awkwardly smiled at the blond man in front of you.

You weren't quite sure how to react when he was just staring at you blankly. Yoongi's lips were pursed together and that alone made you uncomfortable.

"We were supposed to meet at the library..." He raised his brow as if he wanted to know how the hell did you know where he lives? And were you a fucking stalker?

"I..." You instantly trailed off when he narrowed his brow more. Man, he sure was intimidating. The lack of spark in his eyes made you wince. The man in front of you had thick, low set brows—making them appear almost completely straight. (Poker face alert)

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat before trying to form a coherent sentence.

"There...people. I mean, the library is packed with uh, people."

"So you just decided to show up in my house?"

His question made you quiver. This was such a wrong move. Of course you couldn’t just knock on his door like this; you two were not even friends!

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know any other place and I..." You heaved a deep sigh. "I saw your friend Jeongguk and he told me where you live—“

"Right." He cut you off by opening the door wide. Of course it had to be Jeongguk. That little shit really knew how to annoy Yoongi.

"Holly peed on the couch so there's no way we can work there. Is my room okay to you?" Despite not seeing his face, you instantly knew that Yoongi's question was directed at you. He was leading the way inside his house and you're behind him, quietly following where he's going.

Yoongi's house was not that big, but it's a lovely and comfortable place. Unlike your dorm, you felt at home here. It's probably the indoor plants that made the place more alive. You suddenly wondered if he's living with someone. Did the love of his life stay here? Or did he have a roommate? You're adamant that he lived alone; otherwise all these plants would probably be dead.

You weren't really a judgmental person, you're rather logical. Yoongi slept during class hours; he couldn't be bothered by moving a single inch, too. You guessed that he hated any form of activity and maybe, that included watering plants.

You were about to ask him if he lived alone when your voice had been overpowered by loud, boisterous bark.

"Oh! Hello there, little guy..." A giggle escaped from your lips when a small dog went your way to lick your exposed legs.

You squatted in front of the puppy so you could pet his furry head.

"Holly, no!" Yoongi called the attention of the brown poodle, but it couldn't care less. The dog named Holly still continued to ask for your affection.

"Holly!"

You almost whined when Yoongi took Holly away from you. You're sure the puppy hated it too. But Yoongi told you that his pet needed to learn his lesson first. The naughty dog really peed on the couch right after his bathroom training. Yikes!

Yoongi let you inside his room after your little encounter with Holly. The vibe of his room contradicted the overall theme of the house, but you had expected it to be this way nonetheless.

His bedroom walls were painted dark blue, too dark it's almost close to black. There's nothing much in his room except a single bed, a study area with lots of technical devices, and oh!

Amusement danced in your eyes when you noticed different manga books on his shelf. You didn't think that Yoongi was the type of person who would dwell on such things, but what really caught your attention was his album collection.

"You like Epik High!?" you couldn't help your enthusiasm when your eyes found the band's album called Shoebox resting on the black metallic shelf near his bed. Damn. Shoebox was your best-loved album of all time! You liked all songs by Epik High, however nothing could ever top the said album for you. Your ultimate favorite song had to be Amor Fatti. That song slapped, though its meaning was often misunderstood by many.

Yoongi only spared you a few glances from the moment you showed into his house, this time, however, he was looking at you intently and for the first time, you saw him smile, a shy one at that.

"Yeah...they're the reason why I write songs..." He whispered, too soft you barely heard it.

You even blinked. Did you hear him right?

"Oh, you're a songwriter?" You flashed a loop-sided smile that made Yoongi's cheeks red.

"Uh, well...it's just what I like to do during my free time."

You nodded and hummed, your eyes were still busy roaming around his room when an idea popped in your mind.

"So why don't we make use of your talent and write a song for this project?" You caught Yoongi's eyes again, but this time, it didn't look dead, truthfully, his pupils dilated when he heard what you just said.

You instantly defended your suggestion.

"I mean, we don't really have a plan, and now we have. I think you're pretty good at it so it'll make our jobs easier. I can sing, don't worry..."

You hated saying that, though you didn't have a choice. You needed to convince him that producing a song would be such a good idea.

Your professor said you needed to make something, anything that would elicit a reaction from him and your classmates. This was a psychology class and your topic for midterm was all about emotions. Mr. Kim Seokjin, your professor, was tired of doing all the talking, especially because your class was unresponsive, so to save his voice (and brain cells probably) he told the whole class that the remaining meeting for midterm would be about his students showcasing their talents that wold, like what you had said, gain extreme emotions from your classmates. It's actually easy except that you're paired with someone you were not close with. On top of that, the presentation of the project shouldn't exceed ten minutes, and lastly, it should be personal.

You spent days thinking about what you and your partner could do, but your brain cells weren't cooperating since you only had two of it, the first one was sleeping and the other only knew the words "Nothing, bitch."

And so now that your former brain cell decided to wake up and save you from your misery of being stupid (even if it's just for good three minutes) you're willing to take it.

Before your 180 seconds ran out, you immediately started blabbing words to convince Yoongi to produce a song with you.

And guess what? Your convincing power must be really good (or maybe you're just as annoying as Mr. Bang and Yoongi just wanted you to shut up too) but hey, at least Yoongi agreed!

<<< Weirdo >>>

The third time you met Yoongi's eyes—well, it's not really the third time. You had actually lost count on how many times your eyes locked with each other. Sometimes, it's a conscious act, but most of the time, it's not. You guys would just find yourselves staring into each other's eyes when you didn't know what lyrics to write next.

Producing a song was not as easy as what you thought it would be. It had been three weeks since the two of you started this project. Yoongi's room had been your workplace ever since. He had the equipment you needed plus it's easier to meet here since your dorm was just meters away from his house.

"My damn throat hurts like hell!" You groaned before collapsing on top of Yoongi's bed.

The past three weeks you spent with Yoongi made the two of you start a beautiful friendship. Admittedly, it's not really beautiful since most of the time; you're bickering at each other. You and Yoongi were so different from each other. He liked starting his work early because he wanted to finish it early. You, on the other hand, were his exact opposite. You're the play now, work later type of person and Yoongi hated it so much. While he practiced delayed gratification, you sat there and ruined everything.

You were always on his bed, cuddling his pet Holly. That's most likely the reason why it's only been two days since you two finished the song. It took almost three weeks because of your procrastinating ass, and now, you suffered. The two of you only had a week before you performed this in front of your class. Yoongi was pissed off at you for the reason that you still hadn't finished memorizing the lyrics and your voice was already strained.

“If I ever see you drinking cold water again, I will fucking drown your ass on that water as I behead you, and then I will freeze your head." Yoongi warned as he joined you in bed.

"Ohhh, morbid. I like that..." You shrugged your shoulders and then you buried your face on his chest—making him groan in irritation.

"You weirdo, get away from me!"

"No..." You laughed because Yoongi was the weird one here. He told you not to touch him or stay close to him, but at the same time, he's wrapping his arm on your waist.

You wondered if this was okay, it's just been three weeks since the two of you had been formally introduced, and yet, you found comfort here. On his bed. In his arms.

You smiled to yourself, yes, Yoongi was a weirdo, but so were you.

<<< Namjoon’s Party >>>>

What you considered as the fourth time you met Yoongi’s eyes was also the first time he called you by your given name.

“You feel so good…” He moaned your name on your neck, his hands were tightly wrapped around your waist—enjoying your body heat.

You suddenly thought if dragging Yoongi into this party was the best idea. Right now, you had no freaking clue how to act. You’re drunk, but not too drunk to not think about the consequences of this night. But damn, you’re just a human. A horny human! How could you possibly stop Yoongi when he’s using his soft lips to paint bruises on your neck!?

You could just push him away and you knew that, though you were also aware that your mind and heart wouldn’t want that, not when you liked what he’s doing to you.

“Namjoon’s party sucks.”

“Just not your crowd, weirdo...” You chuckled. Oh, thank heavens for Namjoon. He was one of your childhood friends and frankly, the song you and Yoongi produced wouldn’t be finished without the help of Namjoon. So when that friend of yours texted you to come to his birthday party, you immediately agreed. Fortunately, you didn’t have to force your one brain cell to wake up just so you could convince Yoongi to go with you.

This wasn’t what Yoongi likesd he hated parties because he didn’t want to talk to stupid people and drunken people were stupid people. Perhaps the only reason why Yoongi was here was because he couldn’t turn down Namjoon—not after all your friend’s genius advice.

“I hate this place.” Yoongi added, he’s now looking at you with sparks in his eyes—or maybe you’re just drunk. Too intoxicated to feel and see anything other than the fact that Yoongi’s already grinding at you.

You huffed; suddenly offended by the clothes you’re wearing. Were you supposed to wear this when all you wanted was to feel Yoongi’s touch on your bare skin?

“We’re here for Namjoon—”

“God, can’t you take the hint?” Yoongi cut you off by pouting.

You blinked. Did this weirdo just pout? And oh, his lips…his lips were hot….hot against your own mouth.

“Yoongi….” You breathed, your eyes were too hazy to see his gummy smile.

“Let’s get the hell out of this place…”

That night, you once again lost count as to how many times you met his eyes. You also figured out that his eyes looked best the most when he’s down on his knees, facing your hips.

<<< The Performance >>>

You were expecting to meet Yoongi’s eyes as soon as you opened your very own one; however panic and fear consumed your whole being that you immediately ran out of Yoongi’s room. You’re too frightened to let him see you that you hurriedly put your clothes on and left his house.

It’s not like it was going to change the fact that you slept with your classmate in Psychology, however, you were scared. Scared to see his eyes back to being dead when just last night, the moon and the stars were there, staring at you like you’re not just a dust in this universe, but the whole universe.

Besides, you had one logical reason: you needed to pick up your costume for your upcoming performance with Yoongi. Taehyung, your designer friend was only available till nine in the morning, so you literally had to run like a lunatic right after you woke up from your cozy sleep on Yoongi’s bed.

Your outfit was perfect. Damn, Taehyung really had a talent when it came to this. Your confidence level was boosted just by wearing the clothes your great friend designed. You thought you’re finally ready to perform the song you and Yoongi produced for one month.

You were so ready, but your heart was not…

Just…where the hell was Yoongi? It had been two days since you last saw him. You hadn’t heard any news from him since you left his apartment the day after Namjoon’s party. Was he mad at you for leaving? Or did he even care?

You had fifteen minutes left before Mr. Kim Seokjin, your psychology professor, marked your grades zero.

“Fucking Min Yoongi, where the hell are you?” You grimaced when your call was directed on his phone’s voicemail.

You had two options: fake death so you wouldn’t have to perform, or kill Mr. Kim Seokjin. (They wouldn’t probably notice if you stabbed your professor on his side since most of them were busy preparing for their own presentations.)

But just as you’re about to resort to your latter option, Yoongi’s familiar scent immediately attacked your nose. You looked back only for you to cancel killing Mr. Kim Seokjin and just choose your former option.

God, how could it be possible for you to still want to stay alive when Min Yoongi was killing you with his looks? Gone was his light blond hair, but you’re not complaining since his now black curly hair was much much better than the previous one.

“Sorry I’m late. Holly peed on the couch again…” His multiple earrings looked too damn good on him. You’re silly; you’re fucking silly because you worried for nothing. Yoongi was still Yoongi, and the sparks in his eyes were still visible.

“It’s okay, we still have time…” You smiled as if the thought of murdering your professor didn’t just cross your mind. Oh well, nothing else mattered when Yoongi was here, right?

Mr. Kim Seokjin said that you and Yoongi would be the last performers for this day, which meant you still had at least half an hour left to stare at Yoongi like a vampire wanting to drink blood. But time flies fast when you’re busy with something. Thirty minutes ago, you were just ogling at your partner, right now, you were in front of the class, spitting fire with your partner.

The first verse of your produced song was rapped by Yoongi. Scratch that, Agust D was in front of you and not Yoongi. Your partner told you that he preferred to be called Agust D whenever he was performing his rap song.

Robber! Robber!

Sorry bae

Killer! Killer!

Sorry bae

Addiction—diction--diction

Sorry bae

“Oh! The court’s case you got away?”

Your partner smirked before proceeding to the next verse. You, on the other hand, stood there to hype the crowd.

You always get away

I’m sorry bae

You smoke cocaine but get away

Justice won’t be served

I’m sorry bae

Everything, everything, everything

Unfair

You were nervous. The next verse was assigned to you. The plan was that you only had to sing the chorus part, though Yoongi had another idea. He wanted you to go out of your comfort zone and try something new. So here you were, rapping.

You commit the same sin

Sorry bae

Your silence they love it

Sorry bae

I see same pigs on the senate

Boring bae

Your vote they bought and they’re not

Sorry bae

Nothing’s new but rich people’s car are

Brand new

Sorry bae

You can’t be illiterate coz they take advantage

Before you know it, you’re one of the reasons

Why innocents are salvage

Politicians know your name

But after the election they act like they don’t know your name!

You and Yoongi both performed the chorus part. It looked like the crowd was enjoying your presentation because they also started shouting and hyping you up.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

Youth wake up, stand up, we should fight the state! Brr!

The following verse was rapped by Yoongi again. You took your time to feel yourself as you discreetly watched the reaction of the people in front of you. A whole month of stress and worry seemed to pay off. You even locked eyes with Park Jimin, one of your most-respected classmates; he cheered for you and that was enough for you to successfully perform the next verse.

I wanna get job (job, job, job)

But I can’t get on the spotlight

Yeah I wanna have a good life!

But my parent’s wings are cozy

I just wanna hide

It’s okay I have time

My trust fund won’t end

So I can still live

And breathe while I finish this game

Called being “dependent”

All night, all day

All night, all day

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care!

The next verse was easy to execute since you and Yoongi both rapped it. You were facing each other and suddenly, you forgot that there were eyes watching you. Min Yoongi caressed your cheeks once. You smiled as you sensually rolled your body.

Who plays by the rule?

No one!

Who wants to grab a woman's hair?

Husband!

Yoongi slightly pulled your hair this time. You grimaced, but you still continued rapping.

He has mistress so the wife’s depressed

He forgot about their kids but that’s okay

She can cover up for him like how

She can cover her bruise and play cool

As she says “I love him, anyway.”

You moved away from your partner. Your mood instantly changed as you approached the next verse. This one’s challenging to write. Your heart was breaking as you sang.

The other woman on the street has been pulled

By the stranger claiming she’s wet like a pool

She should be thankful since this will feel like

a dream come true

Lick it lick it right, you can take it, right?

She cried and cried and cried, that should be a sign

But “High five!” he told the other man

As the woman cried, her voice is too loud

So they killed her that night.

You let out your frustration by growling and jumping. Min Yoongi was also lost in his own world as he rapped—raising his middle finger from time to time.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

You’re horny, you fucked up! Go on and hate yourself! Brr!

It’s Yoongi’s own verse again. His mood shifted too. If you weren’t part of this performance, you would probably just stare at him. Goddamn, Min Yoongi had his own way of expressing himself.

Back back to the killings!

Your guns check

Call me when you need a gunman I can kill

Even for a dollar

Hashtag no conscience

I don’t believe in God so hell sounds okay

I’ll be with my gang gang

So hell won’t be boring!

The demon you summon

so money won’t be your worry

Payday, paycheck so I can have that rolex

He pointed the rolex on his wrist. It’s not an authentic one, but that’s not the point. Clearly, he just wanted everyone to see that there were other ways to “look cool.” However, many people still chose to listen and be their own demons.

Click clack to the bang bang

Your time has run out.

Click clack here’s my gun

I’m so high on drugs

I see you as a rat

They can control me with money

So you take these four shots

Your life is like a fruit fly

“I can’t understand. Why is it so easy for them?” This was Min Yoongi’s question to you. He asked this while you two were writing the following verse. He hated a lot of things, though he could forgive and tolerate some of it easily. However, he clearly told you that he could never treat someone right if that person used violence.

Click clack to the bang, you and you

Wait your turn

Shit! You little boy

Come here look at the blood

How? You’re asking me?

I don’t know, you’re a man you should know how

He also told you how much he hated this unfair world. He respected women more than ever, but Yoongi was an advocate of both equality and equity. Why can’t boys cry? Are we robots? These were some of his questions too.

If this is the kind of world we live in

I don't wanna live at all

If I exist for your pleasure

then I refuse to accept this call

You joined Yoongi singing the last verse of the song.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

Yo’ human, are you human? If yes then help us save this place!

By the time you finish the song, everyone’s clapping their hands and cheering for you and your partner. You swore you even saw Mr. Kim Seokjin wrote “100” on your paper.

You smiled. The performance was over, contrarily, the attraction you felt for your partner was only starting.

<<< Kimchi and Other Sauces >>>>

The first time you met Yoongi’s pleading eyes was during dinner time. After your performance in Mr. Kim Seokjin’s class, your partner said that the two of you should celebrate this success. Of course you immediately agreed, but that did not mean you were willing to spend money.

“I swear to God, Yoongi…if you ever bring me to a fine-dining restaurant, I will fucking kill you.”

You were not joking. You had student loans to pay so you couldn’t afford to spend a hundred dollar for a fucking spaghetti and sparkling water.

“Chill, you weirdo. We can just—” He stopped mid-sentence because a brilliant idea just popped into his mind.

“What? You’re not planning a yacht dinner date, are you!?” You started freaking out and the uneasiness you felt only intensified when Yoongi smirked.

“Actually, I was planning to…you know…maybe…make you eat my cum.” He simply shrugged his shoulders.

He said it so casually that you just stared at him. Was he serious or were you supposed to be laughing now? You could feel your blood rushing. You were so confused. Excited. Worried.

After what it felt like forever, the staring contest with Yoongi finally ended. He offered his hands and of course, you immediately took it. The both of you rushed toward his big, black motorbike. Yoongi only brought one helmet so he told you to just wear it. The ride to his house wasn’t that far, anyway.

The both of you were in a hurry. Countless profanities were thrown at him for driving hastily; Yoongi even parked his motorbike in a reckless way. Still, you two couldn’t care less, especially Yoongi. How could he? Huh, definitely not after you stroked his cock while driving. That’s really not a smart move, at least not when Yoongi’s mother welcomed the both of you just as Yoongi opened his apartment’s door.

“Eomma! What are you doing here?!” Clearly, your partner wasn’t expecting to see his own mother. It’s pretty obvious since Yoongi’s jaw dropped and his neck was slowly turning red.

“You brat! Why wouldn’t I be here? This is my house!” You knew you weren’t supposed to laugh, however it’s hard to control yourself when Yoongi’s being hit by his own mother while he was trying to cover the bulge on his pants.

“Eommoni! Please! I have a guest!” Yoongi got away from his own mother by hiding himself behind your small frame.

“What—oh!” His mother’s eyes widened when she saw you. She seemed surprised to see Yoongi bring someone. Of course, Yoongi had never brought his friends home. Not even once. At this point, his mother was actually convinced that her son was allergic to human beings.

“I didn’t know that Yoongi is friends with someone as charming as you…” The frightening aura of his mother was completely gone. The older woman engulfed you into a tight, warm hug as she asked your name. You answered her with a smile on your lips.

Yoongi’s mom led you in the kitchen. Actually, you tagged along with her. She wanted to prepare a meal for you and her son, but of course, you couldn’t just sit still and look pretty. As a sign of respect, you needed to help her. Besides, you loved kitchen works, though you’re pretty sure cooking hated every fiber of your being.

The older woman just asked you to set up the table because according to her, she was always in charge of cooking. She also told you to be prepared because you’d surely forget your name once you tasted her award-winning Sam Gae Tang or that chicken soup with ginseng. Hoseok, one of your best friends, made the best chicken soup so your standard was kind of high. For you, nothing could beat Hoseok, but we’ll just have to see.

“Please be kind to my mother…”

Yoongi’s voice and eyes were pleading as he sat beside you. The food was already prepared and the two of you were ready to eat. You were just waiting for Yoongi’s mom to finish washing her hands.

You just raised your brows at the man beside you, clearly not understanding why he’s pleading because really, you knew how to respect elders.

Yoongi sighed.

“My mom is a terrible cook. Her soup tastes like shit, man…” Yoongi shook his head like a traumatized kid. He even bit his lower lip.

You’re about to say something, but you heard his mother’s footsteps, meaning, if you spoke, she might hear you, and so you just kept your mouth shut. You’re expecting Yoongi to do the same, though he just leaned on your shoulders—his eyes were still begging.

“Please, baby? Just put a lot of kimchi and other sauces on your soup to get rid of the awful taste. Can you do that for me?”

You simply nodded. That night, you realized that Yoongi was willing to do everything just to make someone he loved happy. Days, weeks, months, and years passed and you still admired how every time you had dinner with him and his mother, Yoongi would urge you to put kimchi and other sauces on your chicken soup.

At this point, you were convinced you loved Min Yoongi. You had always loved cooking, hell, you were willing to lose your bachelor’s degree if that meant you would be good at cooking, because…

You, just like Yoongi’s mom, were a terrible cook. But Yoongi never complained nor did he ever put kimchi and other sauces on the food you cooked just for him.

<<< Silver Dust>>>>

The first time you asked Yoongi why he liked looking into your eyes was when the both of you were having a staring contest.

The wind was unbelievably cold tonight, clearly, you weren’t expecting to freeze in the middle of a summer night. The annoying weather led you into thinking if climbing on top of your boyfriend’s house’s roof was a good idea. Sure the stars were pretty, but you felt cold. Too cold.

“Do you know the story about the Window and the Mirror?” Yoongi asked out of the blue. He also pulled your body closer to him—making you grimace. The texture of the roof was hard on your back. You shook your head, why did you choose to lay on the roof without any blanket again? Sometimes, your choices in life were really questionable.

“Nah, what happened?” You’re never a fan of stories.

Yoongi sighed. He pulled you closer to him until your face was buried on his neck. Damn. He smelled like smoke and sex.

“Well, for starters, my father left us…”

Yoongi’s words monetarily made you stop breathing. You had known him for years now, but not once did you ever talk about his father. You were aware that his father left him and his mom, though you didn’t know the story behind it.

“My father was a good man and he always tells me he loves my mother more than ever. For the longest time of my life, I believed him. He never looked into anyone’s wife. He never had a mistress, but my father is selfish.”

You just hummed to let him know that you were listening.

He cleared his throat.

“Mom just wants a simple life and that’s why we never left Daegu. This is my home. Our home.” Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder tightened, he looked up in the sky—the stars were prettier when you were in Daegu.

“My father doesn’t like to be here, though. He loves the city. He craves city life. Ever since I was young, he kept telling my mom that they should move to Seoul. Abeonim hates farming. He calls our strawberry farm disgusting. Said he should become a CEO and not a stupid farmer.” Yoongi laughed bitterly. He could still remember the way his father said those words.

“And guess what? He fucking did. Min Hyun Sik, chief executive officer of Bighit Company…” Yoongi cackled and you gasped.

Min Hyun Sik was his father? That guy was like the richest man in South Korea! You wanted to confirm this news that he just dropped, however, you couldn’t move because Yoongi’s grip on your shoulders was so tight.

“He became someone with power by leaving my mother and I.” Yoongi repeated as his eyes darkened. He no longer found the stars pretty. For him they were just lights—shining to hurt his eyes.

“He just left a note like that was going to be enough. He didn’t even say sorry. The only words written on those notes are him telling me to go to University using the money he left.”

You bit your lower lip. His grip was really, really tight…

“He wants me to go to college so I can follow him in the city, and so I went to college. But it’s not because I want to follow him. I enrolled just so I can fucking drop out during my last year.”

You furrowed your brow. If that was Yoongi’s original plan, then how…how come he’s a college graduate now?

“That was the plan before I met you…” Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder loosens, giving you the opportunity to look into his eyes.

He smiled at you.

“So, the story of the Window and the Mirror?” He offered and you just nodded.

“There’s this rich man—”

“Richer than your dad?” You asked. He laughed.

“Fucking richer than my dad…” He left a chaste kiss on your mouth. You giggled. “Anyway, the man went to see a rabbi, some sort of Jewish teacher. Of course the rabbi asked him what he wanted and the rich man said he doesn’t know what to do with his life anymore.”

“Uh, duh? He should give us money!” You butted in again. Yoongi kissed you once more just to make you shut up.

“Unfortunately, the teacher didn’t tell the rich man to give you money, weirdo. The Rabbi just led him over to the window and asked him this.” Yoongi cleared his throat. “What can you see through the glass?”

“And what’s the response of the rich man, Mr. Min?”

“I can see men coming and going and a blind man begging for alms in the street.” Yoongi answered you. “The rabbi seemed content with his answers, so this time, the teacher led him into a large mirror to ask him another question...”

“What is the other question?” You pressed.

“The rabbi asked him this, baby…” Yoongi pressed his lips on your mouth before proceeding to the story. “When you look in this mirror, can you tell me what you see?”

“And?!” You pressed again.

“I can see myself…”

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes. You just wanted to know the sense of this story.

“And you can’t see the others. Notice that the window and the mirror are both made of the same basic material, glass. You should compare yourself to these two kinds of glass. Poor, you saw other people and felt compassion for them. Rich — covered in silver — you see yourself.”

“Oh,” was all you could say.

Your boyfriend smiled at you.

“My father chose to look in the mirror and I almost did the same. I almost dropped out of college just because I want my father to see that having a degree is useless. But, baby, if I actually chose to drop out, I wouldn’t have met you. I wouldn’t be able to give my mother a better life. I wouldn’t be able to afford to hire a cook and who knows? If I drop out of college, I would probably still be eating my mom’s shitty chicken soup.” You laughed at that.

“I am just saying, I like to look into your eyes because it reminds me of a window. It made me see a lot of things—new opportunities. Because of you, I stopped being selfish. You removed the silver in the mirror; you turned the silver into dust.”

“I fucking love you!” This time, you initiated the kiss.

You kissed Min Yoongi so hard that when you pulled away, he’s desperately gasping for air.

“I fucking love you too.”

<<< The Proposal >>>>

After reminiscing some of your unforgettable moments with Min Yoongi, you finally looked into his eyes.

Yoongi proposed to you and you’re contemplating whether to say yes or no. Your boyfriend despised the crowd, but here he was, down on his knees—shakily holding a ring on his hand.

You examined his face. His lips were quivering, for the first time; you saw how vulnerable he looked. It’s as if his whole life depended on this, and to be honest, it did. Yoongi couldn’t imagine life without you.

“Baby, are you gonna say yes or no?” Yoongi knitted his brows together.

You chuckled. Typical, Yoongi.

“Please stand up…”

Your boyfriend looked at you with confused eyes. His heart started beating so fast he’s very sure it would explode.

“B-But why? Don’t you want to—“ He stammered.

“Just stand up, Yoongi.”

With a heavy heart, Yoongi followed what you wanted. Deep inside, Yoongi was already murdering his friend, Jeon Jeongguk. He just told Yoongi that proposing in a strange, busy city would win your heart.

You two were currently in New York, New York. Strangers were watching you, and Brooklyn Bridge served as your backdrop. Jeongguk said that if Yoongi proposed in a place where no one knew you, then it was a sure win because your mother wouldn’t be able to stop Yoongi. Your childhood crush or ex wouldn't be in the picture too so it was another win for Yoongi. But your boyfriend was starting to regret his decision. He shouldn’t have listened to Jeongguk. What did that dipshit even know about love?

“Yoongi, are you listening?”

“Huh?” Your boyfriend’s train of thoughts were suddenly halted when you spoke.

“I can’t believe you. I just said yes!” You shake Yoongi’s shoulder. It looked like he was still out of his mind and that made you anxious. What if…what if he decided you’re not worth it anymore? What if he didn’t want to marry you anymore?

“Baby, I can’t believe you too. Please give me your hands!” Yoongi exclaimed.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as well. What the hell! You were so apprehensive that you zoned out too!

“We’re both weirdos, do you know that?” Yoongi shook his head after putting the sparkling ring on your finger.

You laughed.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly.”

[bapyess1r]

Amphetamine

WARNINGS: cursing, age difference, fluff, angst

CHAPTER 9

Talia’s POV

“Tali… look at me.” He said as I spun around in the passenger seat of his boat. I avoided his gaze when he approached me. He stood between my legs and cupped my face with his large hands. “Baby, I-”

“I know… And I understand…. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.” I replied. I stared at the water a while before getting the courage to look him in the eyes. They shone rather brightly from the sun. He shot me a smile so handsome it made my heart wrench.

“You have so much here to keep yourself busy until I get back. You have the band at your disposal, you have classes to teach, you’ll have the keys to the house so you can use the punching bag in the backyard if you ever want to hit something…” he began to list all of the things to keep me busy and I took a deep breath to keep myself from crying. “I’ll be back before you know it. It’ll be like I never even left.” He said. I sighed, resting my hands on his wrists as he pulled my head to his.

“How long is this one?” I asked, nonchalantly.

“Two weeks at best. And if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know. Okay, sweetheart?” He said slowly, kissing my lips and then my temple. “Now let’s enjoy the rest of the day, hm?”

I remembered that day. Sam had gotten a call from his pal Chloe. I never met her but I remembered her from his stories. They were on a job in India. He agreed to do some recon and be her decoy for her in her search for Ganesh’s Tusk. When he told me about it, I couldn’t even imagine how a journey like that would go. I figured it had to be the most adrenaline fueling thing. I couldn’t wait until Sam would tell me I was ready to accompany him but I also didn’t want to die so I would stay behind and train my hardest until that day.

I had woken up earlier than usual. It was 7:00 am. We would usually jog around this time. The sun had barely come up yet so I put on my jogging gear and threw my hair up in a ponytail. I readied my iPod for running music when I noticed my Godfather sitting at the kitchen table, tapping away at his laptop. He smiled at me and I approached him with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re up early, Goddaughter.” He said placing his warm hand over mine.

“Usually am. Sam and I go running around this time. Just because he’s gone that doesn’t stop me.” I said with a slight frown, patting his shoulder. I leaned on the side of the table as we continued to chat.

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately.” He said, continuing to write his report. I hadn’t really told my Godparents I had been seeing Sam in the romantic way. Not that I didn’t want to, it just never crossed my mind to tell when things got serious.

“Uh… yeah.” Was all I could muster.

“I hope he’s treating you right.” He said suddenly, surprising me. “I’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

“You knew?” I laughed nervously.

“I’m on the force for a reason, Talia Alyssa. Just like I know you’re trying to train to go with him on his next job.” He told me, his eyes never leaving the screen. “I can’t say I’m too happy about it.”

“Well it’s not for you to decide. Matter of fact, I don’t think it’s any of your business-” I mumbled, fidgeting with the tangled earbuds in my hands.

“So what do you expect me to tell Dave and Delores if anything happens to you?” He said, glancing at me a moment. I flinched at the mention of my parents. “‘Oh uh hey Dave, your daughter- my Goddaughter is out traipsing the globe with an ex-convict, want me to tell her to send you a postcard?!’-”

“It’s too early for this bullshit…” I chuckled, shaking my head in an annoyed fashion as he tried to pick a fight. He was always like this. I was the apple of his eye until I did something he didn’t approve of. Then he’d berate me into years. He always knew just what to say to blow my mood. I tucked my earbuds and started to head for the door.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this some time, Talia!” He said running his fingers through his short sandy blonde hair.

“Yeah- well it doesn’t have to be now.” I said numbly, raising the volume on my music as I walked out the door. With that, I began to run.

I pushed myself during my morning workout, all the way to the hill where Sam and I would stop to watch the sunset. My Godfather had found a way to work my nerves again and I laid out on the grass to call the one who could soothe my restless mind. My mother. The phone rang and rang for a while. It was still early so she could’ve been sleeping still. But when she finally answered, I almost wanted to cry. “Mommy…” I choked. Hot tears ran down the sides of my face, mixing in with the sweat. I sobbed softly on my end.

“He did it again, huh?” I heard her sigh in annoyance. “I’m gonna have a talk with him because he’s been doing this far too often and I'm not okay with that.” She rambled. “What did he get all pissy about this time?”

“I fell for an older man and now I’m suddenly training to travel the world.” I blurted. I was afraid of how she’d react.

“How old is he?”

“42…” I mumbled.

“That’s not… awful. It’s a little older than I’d like but you’re approaching 30 in a few short years-”

“My thoughts exactly. And he’s ridiculously handsome and funny. And he’s so smart… he’s a historian slash….collector of antiquities….” I began to gush about him to her.

“A historian? Wow! Your tastes have certainly changed.”

“He’s not like the stuffy kind though. He’s… different… And I’m learning a lot really! He specializes in Pirates...”

“Well that’s good! And you’re traveling the world now?” She asked, sounding impressed.

“Not yet but I’m training for it…”

“You have to train to get on a airplane?” She asked and I chuckled. My mom was adorable.

“No, mama. His work requires a lot of scaling and… hiking…” I lied. I knew if I told her about the guns and such she’d disapprove. And I’d never hear the end of it. “I like to say I’m dating Indiana Jones.” I smirked. Just as I stood up to go home, the sun rose above the clouds, painting the skies orange and pink as I heard her positive laughter on the other end.

“Oh lord… When do you get to go?”

“When he declares me ready enough. He’s away on a job right now so I’m doing solo training in the meantime…” I began to start down hill.

“Where do you think you’ll go?” She asked me as I decided to walk home instead of run, to spend time on the phone with my mom. I told her everything about him. Laid it all out on the table. Even about his jail time. The short brief version that Sam had given me so she knew it wasn’t his fault.

I concluded my conversation with my mother at the docks where I had my morning smoke. “You’ll talk to dad about it right? I don’t want Godfather James to go blabbing to him about me dating an ex-convict half my age.” I said rolling my eyes.

“I’ll talk to him. We all know he’s been prone to spinning the truth a little…”

“Thank you!” I sighed in relief.

“So other than this situation… you’re okay?” As she spoke, I noticed The Morgan rocking gently on the waves as it was docked and smiled to myself.

“I can honestly tell you that I’ve never been happier.”

“Good. I’m glad. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Yeah it has… Well I gotta go now. I’ve got a lot to do today…”

“Alright, monkey. You need to call me more often. I don’t know what’s goin’ on down there, yknow? I love you.” She said in her motherly voice.

“I know. I love you too, ma. Talk to you later.”

With that, I hung up and started on my fresh pack of cigarettes. As I placed one between my lips and lit it, I received a voicemail from an unknown number. I furrowed my brows as I hit play and pressed and let it play out in my earphones.

“Hey, darlin’, it’s me…” it began and I ceased all movement. I could hear Sam’s raspy Boston accented voice loud and clear. “I miss you so so much and I wish you were here with me. You’d love it. The grass is green, the water is the clearest blue, and the flowers are...small and purple but uh… vibrant nonetheless.” His voice almost brought me to tears. I missed him so much. He’d only been gone a week but it felt like forever. “The job is going as planned. Might’ve hit a snag for a second but we pulled through.” He sounded tired. I hoped he was getting enough rest. “Now, just because I’m not there right now, I hope you’ve been training and taking care of yourself. Um….” I heard him blow a raspberry on the other end and I chuckled, finally taking a drag of my cigarette that had just been burning this whole time. I could just hear him smiling on the other end, wherever he was. “I can’t wait to get back to you… I’m gonna video call you tonight so be near your laptop, mmkay? I gotta go now. Um… take it easy, be safe driving if you go anywhere, have a good class if you’re teaching today, have a successful rehearsal….. aaand I’ll talk to you soon, sweetheart. Drake out!” I smiled to myself, cringing at the last bit. He could try so hard to be “cool” sometimes when he didn’t need to be. But I liked it. It made me laugh.

My day was dreary to say the least. I taught a kids ballet class and a teens hip hop class scheduled for this morning and this evening. It was hard to pay attention all day and it made classes a little rough today. I wasn’t on the ball. When I came home, I sat in my car to roll a blunt and smoke for a little bit. I stared at Sam’s empty house and sighed. I wanted him back home, that’s for sure. I missed his hugs, his voice, the corny jokes, and the way he smelled. Whilst I sat there, stoned out of my mind, I had a thought. I quickly tapped out the blunt and grabbed my dance bag before running to Sam’s. I let myself inside and I fought back a sob. Feeling embarrassed about it I made my way to his fridge and stole the bottle of scotch he was always drinking. I never saw the appeal in it but he always looked damn good drinking it. I popped the top off and took a sip before sealing it and placing it in my bag. Then I made my way to his room. It smelled like him. Cologne, cigarettes, and beer. I opened up his closet to browse his range of tee shirts and bold Hawaiian prints before my eyes landed on a black crew neck sweater and a dark plaid button down shirt. Immediately I snatched them and a random blue graphic tee off the hangers. “Well shit, hun. Maybe you do have some taste.” I said to myself. On my way out, I grabbed the blanket we used to wrap up in when we watched TV and one of his books from his shelf. The one I always tried to read when I came over but he would always scoop me in his arms and tell me how good I looked reading. Almost always ending up in sex so I could never continue. Smirking, I tucked the thick book under my arm and turned to leave.

That night after my shower, the first thing I put on was Sam’s plaid shirt. As I sat on my bed, I turned the TV on and dried my hair, setting up my laptop for Sam to call. I went downstairs to ask my Godmother if she needed any help with the kids but she told me she was fine so with a disappointed look I said my “okay” and returned upstairs with snacks to keep watching TV. I changed the channels a few times when I didn’t like what came on. That’s when I stopped on a channel playing Raiders of the Lost Ark. I chuckled as I grabbed my snacks from my mini fridge and the bottle of scotch. I was actually enjoying myself and for once didn’t feel like shit. That’s when I heard a ping from my laptop. It was a message from Sam.

Cap’nDrake: You awake, Princess?

I cackled at his username for a moment before responding.

Tali_Sc0res: Your username is ridiculous.

Cap’nDrake: Well I’m not changing it.

My laptop let out a little twitter as he requested a video call. Immediately, I got up to close my door and mute my TV. I adjusted my hair and let his shirt hang off my shoulder a bit before answering. Suddenly, he appeared on screen from his desk, his upper body covered by a thin white tank, reading glasses perched at the bridge of his nose, cigarette smoke exiting his nostrils as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. The scar above his eyebrow that always seemed to get reopened was covered by a bandage but other than that, he seemed fine. I smiled brightly as I watched him put away some maps and close up some books. “Heya, sweetheart!” He grinned warmly as he pulled the glasses from his face. I pouted a bit as he did so as he bit his lip, taking in my entire appearance. “My god, you look delicious- is that my shirt?!” He asked, narrowing his eyes to get a better look at me.

“Maybe.” I replied as I scrunch my face and take a large sip of scotch.

“You raided my house?” He chuckled, rubbing his hand across the stubble on his face. “That miserable, huh?” He could read me very well.

“Honestly… I think I’m handling you being gone pretty well. Today I just… My Godfather pissed me off early as hell in the morning and I really just wanted to be with you.” I sighed, thinking about the conversation I had with him this morning.

“What’s little Jimmy bitchin’ about now?” He didn’t sound worried one bit as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“He found out about us and he didn’t hesitate to tell me how much he didn’t like it.” I said, taking a long sip of scotch, the burn feeling much better than my current emotions.

“Aye aye! Take it easy, sister. That stuff’s not cheap.” He nagged through the screen. I chuckled through the bottle and put the cork back in it, sitting it on my nightstand next to me. “As for James,” he made a face acknowledging the pettiness of my Godfather. “Don’t let him get to you. He has a tendency to lash out when things don’t go his way. He’s a little bitch like that.” He said in an unconcerned tone.

“Trust me I know. We’ve butted heads almost all my life. He’d get mad if I was on the phone too long or if I wasn’t interested in something he was talking about…”

“Listen, I’m sure he means well.” He reached offscreen and brought a beer to his lips before placing it back down.

“He called you an ex-convict.” I told him and he burst into laughter. Literally loud and boisterous, slapping his knees and clapping. I chuckled to myself as he found amusement in my Godfather’s comment. He spoke when he finally calmed himself down enough.

“Jesus, James! Tell me how you really feel.” He giggled.

We continued to talk for a few and he told me all about what he’d seen in India. The landmarks, that statue work, the puzzles they found all over the place. He spoke of how he was leading Chloe’s competitor on a wild goose chase by lying that he was a Hoysala expert. Only he could get away with something like that. The mouth on that man was talented in more ways than one. Then he asked me how things were going on my side of the world. “I have a dance recital comin’ up. The kids get to show what they’ve learned then the other teachers and myself do a dance too.”

“Now we’re talkin’!” He beamed at me. “When?!”

“Would you even be back in time?” I sulked.

“Hey, now. Pick your head up, sweetheart.” He said. I lifted my head but took my gaze to a random corner of my room, giving an annoyed huff. “Look at me.” I tilted my head and brought my eyes to the screen. “I’m gonna be there.” He stated. “I’ll be sittin’ right in the front row so save my seat, sister!” He grinned. That made me feel good. That meant he might be home soon.

“I will.”

“Now, I can’t stay up with you for too much longer but would you do me the honor of granting this… poor old man a favor?” He said dramatically clutching his heart through his shirt. I gave a flirty smirk and adjusted myself to sitting back on my heels.

“What do you need?” I mewed.

“Would you sing for me?” He asked. It was such a pure request from him that I blushed, covering my cheeks with the long sleeves of the shirt.

“Really? You want me to sing?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, doll.” he looked at me longingly and I couldn’t stop myself from becoming a blushing mess. “Now I know it’s not selling out a stadium or anything but it’s one fan who’s really missed hearing your voice… Song of your choice of course.”

I rolled my eyes with a laugh as I reached next to my bed to pull my acoustic guitar from its case. Sitting the guitar in my lap, I thought long and hard about what to sing for him, briefly checking the tuning of the strings. Without much preparation, I began strumming the chords and plucking the strings to Strange Land by Niki. He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, lighting another cigarette and taking his beer in hand to relax as my voice carried through the laptop.

Here for the nosedive

Whatever you need

And I'm savin' all the bold lines

I'll say 'em while you sleep

You're sleepin' on the wrong side

And I'm turnin' endlessly

Screamin' for my lifeline, lifeline, life

Ooh, continental drifter

Still, I'm the hero of my hometown

Now I'm all laid up with you, sentimental trickster

Maybe in another lifetime, lifetime, life (oh)...

“Wow… it’s almost like I’m hearing you sing for the first time all over again.” He said with a sentimental tone. He gave me a genuine smile.

“Goodnight, Sam…” I sang softly. He reached out to touch the screen for a moment and gave a small smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll be home soon…. I love you.” He said before terming the connection. My heart skipped as I stared at the black screen. ‘Did he really just say that to me?’ I thought with a smile as I put my guitar away. I spent the rest of watching Indiana Jones with a goofy look on my face.

[niawritess]

The Lovestruck~Chapter 10

(4 December Saturday)

10:23 am

"So how was your date?"

You glanced at your bestfriend confused by her sudden question. "Date?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yesterday, you and Baekhyun Sunbae went to date, right?"

You brows knitted. "That wasn't a date."

"Why? It was only you and Baekhyun Sunbae tho." She smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"Shut up, that's because Rose couldn't come. Now stop with your nonsense and look ahead." You pointed your chin towards the stage where the rehearsal was going on.

Ria groaned rolling her eyes. "I don't want to look at her! She's showing off her boyfriend more than acting."

You laughed. "Then get a boyfriend for yourself."

"Ha ha! So funny!" She scoffed. "Like it's so easy but you're gonna get it soon."

"What?" Your frowned confusingly as you looked at her to see her smiling mischievously before you realized what was she talking about.

You slapped her arm and glared at her. "I told you not have any weird thoughts about it!"

"What? I didn't even said anything!" She shrugged her shoulders and you shook your head ahead before she giggled at your flustered state.

Later, as you were about to walk out of your campus, you got a call from your brother's school, informing you that daniel has got injured during his basketball game practice and asked to pick him up.

You panicked at first but fortunately he didn't got injured badly and you got relieved before making your way to his school while texting Ria about it.

***

12:56 pm

Arriving at his school, you went straight to the infirmary and saw your brother sitting on the bed with his foot bandaged talking to her classmate which you assumed.

"Good afternoon." You greeted the doctor who was typing on her laptop looked up at you before giving you a polite smile and Daniel did the same.

"You must be Daniel's sister whom i talked to earlier?" She asked and you nodded before she stood up from her chair making her way to Daniel's bed while you following her.

"Is he okay? Is it bad?" You questioned worringly eyeing his bandaged foot and the doctor chuckled.

"Don't worry, he sprained his foot but it will be fine within two or three days after giving it a rest." She explained and you nodded relieved.

"Then can I take him with me now?"

"Yes, I have gave him the pain killer so you can take him."

"Okay, Thank you." You smiled at her and she nodded going back to her desk before you helped Daniel standing up and led him outside.

"Daniel! Your bag!" A girl shouted from the back as you both were walking down the hallway before she approached you and handed him the bag.

"Hello. I'm Daniel's friend, Kim jieun." She grinned and you smiled back before glancing at your brother who's cheeks were a little red as he stared at her making your jaw dropped internally.

She quickly bid her goodbye as she got called by the teacher and you both walked out of the school then back to your home.

Reaching home, you helped Daniel into his room and giving him time to change his uniform before something popped into your mind.

You fished out your phone and opened your contacts searching Baekhyun's number but then you realized that you don't have his number and texted rose instead, asking her if you could take a day off while telling her the reason.

After receiving her text saying yes, you smiled but then you tilted your head to the side confused as why Baekhyun popped up in your head when you don't even have his number. You thoughts got interrupted when your brother called you from his room loudly enough to make you startle and you groaned walking into his room with a thud.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun entered the Cafés as usual before a frown crept on his face as he didn't see you but then shrugged it off thinking you would come later.

Thirty minutes passed, but you still were not here causing him get confused and at last he asked Rose about it then got to know the reason behind your absence.

When she told him about Daniel, he got worried as he has gotten close to him but was also a little bit sad that you didn't tell him, he knows he shouldn't be feeling like this but he couldn't help it.

His day was passing slowly that's what he thought and was feeling lonely too since you were not here beside him so he could talk to you which got him confused as it wasn't the first time you took a day off but it was the first time he was feeling this way.

***

Next day (5 December)

2:24 pm

Time flew by fast with all the hectic day you had in college and now were on your way to the café. Entering the Café, you spotted Rose and Baekhyun behind the counter before smiling as you approached them.

"Good afternoon, Rose!" You greeted her as you stood by the counter causing Baekhyun's head jolted towards you and his face lit up but he immediately masked it with his normal facial expression.

"Hey! You're here and how is Daniel?" She asked.

"He is alright. His foot is getting better now." You replied, walking inside the kitchen to wear your apron and came back before standing behind the counter.

"Hey." You smiled at Baekhyun and he smiled back which didn't reached his eyes like how he always smile which got you frowned wondering if he's in a bad mood and shrugged it off.

However, the whole day he was being the same, giving you a nod or hum if you were asking something. He didn't really talked which led you think if he is mad at you but you haven't done anything wrong which you could think about.

You wouldn't admit it but you got a little bit sad with his sudden cold behavior but didn't let it get to you, thinking he's just in a bad mood and without you even realizing it was already closing time.

Rose closed the café and drove off to her home before bidding goodbye to both of you. Now Baekhyun and you were standing beside eachother in silence which you were hating and hence decided to break it.

"Sunbae?" You called him out and he looked at you as he was facing ahead. "Are you upset with me or something?"

"What?"

"I don't know what happened but you didn't talked to me like you do today, have I done something wrong?"

Baekhyun looked at you with wistful eyes and bit his lips before looking away while letting out a exhasperated sigh. He doesn't even know why he is feeling like this and now he's feeling apologetic towards you by his behavior.

"I'm sorry, it's just today I was kind of in a bad mood." He explained and you nodded in understanding while feeling relieved.

"Honestly," He started making you look at him. "When you didn't called me, I mean about Daniel like we have gotten close you know, I kind of got a little sad as I thought we became friends or is it just me who thinks that?"

"No! We are." You immediately replied and his eyes lit up before you scratched the side of your neck. "The thing is, I also wanted to tell you but then I realized I don't have your number."

Realization hit Baekhyun and he closed his eyes turning his head opposite direction of you, feeling embarrassed before looking back at you and you both stared at each other before chuckling.

He suddenly held out his palm towards you and you stared at it perplexed before glancing back at him then at his hand and high-fived it.

He looked at you incredulously before shaking his head. "I meant your phone."

"Oh." You bit your lip smiling sheepishly before fishing out your phone and gave him.

He typed something and gave it back before his phone started ringing and picking it up he saved your contact.

"Baekhyun."You mused looking at the name as he has saved his number as in your phone and he smiled at how his name rolled off your tongue.

"Yes, Baekhyun. I know you would have saved it as Baekhyun Sunbae and its too formal to save a friend's name like that." He explained and you smiled as he was right.

"Then what did you saved my name as?"

He held up his phone showing your contact info with your name written as 'Coffee bean'.

"Seriously? Coffee bean?" You frowned and he giggled causing you smile automatically before a thought crossed your mind.

"Wait, so were you sulking about it the whole day?" You looked at him amused and he blinked feeling heat rushing to his ear.

"No, I wasn't." He looked away feeling embarrassed and you smiled finding him cute before looking at your watch.

"I have to go now, Daniel must be waiting for me."

"Okay, i'll walk you home today since Daniel won't be coming."

"No, it's okay. I can go by myself." You refused not wanting to bother him and he looked unsure to send you alone which you noticed.

"I have been coming back and forth alone for a while so, it's fine." You assured him hoping he wouldn't insist anymore and he he didn't.

"Alright, but text me when you get home." He ordered and you almost laughed feeling as your dad was ordering you before nodding.

"You too, go home safely."

He nodded still hesitating before you walked away from him while he was still standing there watching your figure disappearing in the street.

Not long before, he walked over his car and got in before starting the engine while on the way his phone buzzed and taking his phone out, he checked the caller ID showing 'Coffee bean' which made his lips stretched in a smile.

However, his smiley face turned into a frown as it hasn't been even five minutes since you both parted ways and you couldn't have reached home in that short time.

As he answered the call, he couldn't even utter a word when he heard your shaky voice. "Someone is following me."

He immediately pressed the brake vigorously bringing his car come to halt with a jerk before comprehending your words. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

You bit your lip feeling scared as you can hear the footsteps behind you getting closer causing you walk more faster and heart beat increasing rapidly before you pressed your phone more close to your ear.

"Um, I'm close to my home but he- he is still following me." You stuttered breathing heavly making Baekhyun more worried and scared as he was already, before he started the engine coming over to you.

You brought your hand to your bagback which was hanging on your shoulder before reaching out and took out the paper spray while ready to kick the stalker.

"Y/n!"

You heard a familiar voice calling you out and tilted your head to see Jenna coming out of the convenience store walking towards you making you relieved as you rushed towards her.

"I'm safe now." You told Baekhyun who was about to make a U turn but sighed in relief before stopping his engine.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm with my neighborhood aunt."

"Okay, text me when you reach home."

After hearing your reply, he hung up and leaned his head against his seat while closing his eyes before exhaling deeply making his heart steady which was beating fast till now.

Never in the dreams, he imagined that his heart would be at the verge of jumping out because of a girl. He has never got this scared and this relieved before you entered his life. What were you doing to him? That was the thing he wondered before driving off to his home.

On the other hand, the man which you thought was stalker turned out Jenna's husband Alaric who was coming back from the walk.

"Seriously! Alaric, you scared me!" You complained calming your heart and Jenna slapped his arm before side hugging you while he scratched his back apologetically.

"Did I scared you? I'm sorry." He patted your head and you sighed.

"I was about to spray the paper spray on you." You told him making both of their eyes widen before you three walked towards your house as their house is opposite of yours.

Reaching home, you bid goodnight to them before walking inside and saw your brother in the living room playing video game. You rushed towards him and threw your arms around him and he flinched with your sudden act before you pulled away sitting straight.

"Did something happen?" He asked pausing his game before staring at you concerned and you shook your head not wanting him to worry.

"Nothing, I just miss mum." You replied honestly what you were feeling right now and he nodded sighing.

"Then call her."

"Eung, i'll wash up first and will make dinner." You stood up and ran upstairs to your room.

You entered your room before throwing your bag on the bed with yourself with a deep sigh swinging your legs side slowly before you grabbed your phone and texted Baekhyun.

You: I've reached home and sorry for troubling you.

Not getting a reply, you assumed he's busy so you got up and walked towards your bathroom to change and freshen up.

Baekhyun got out of his washroom in his pajamas after washing up and hung his towel around his neck before walking towards his bed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

Unlocking it, he saw your message on the notification bar and checked it before replying.

Baekhyun: No you didn't. You sure you are okay?

He was waiting for your reply but getting a voice from downstairs calling his name, he placed his phone on the bed and walked out of his room.

***

11:48 pm

You were lying on your bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about earlier which made you shiver. Although it wasn't a stalker but the scary feeling you had that time was still there, not letting you sleep as it kept appearing in your mind.

"Should I watch something to distract myself?" You muttered before grabbing your phone from nightstand and was about to play a drama but got interrupted as you got a text from Baekhyun.

Baekhyun: Are you asleep?

You: No, why?

Baekhyun: I texted you but you didn't replied so I was worried.

You frowned before scrolling up a little to see his message and immediately replied him.

You: I'm sorry I was busy so couldn't check it.

Baekhyun: I texted you but you didn't replied so I was worried.

You frowned before scrolling up a little to see his message and immediately replied him.

You: I'm sorry I was busy so couldn't check it.

Baekhyun: No problem, but do you often sleep late?

You: No, I sleep early but I can't right now.

He didn't reply making you frown and you almost assumed that he fell asleep or something but then his text appeared.

Baekhyun: Can I call you?

You blinked immediately sitting up before leaning against the headboard while contemplating what to reply as you're more of a text person.

On the other hand, Baekhyun bit his lip tapping his phone with his fingers wondering if he scared you or something before you texted back.

Coffee bean: Sure.

A smile made his way to his lips before you instantly got a call from him making you jump as you cleared your throat and answered the call while placing your phone to your ear but didn't said anything.

[Hello? Y/n, Are you there?]

[Uh, yeah sorry.]

[If you're not feeling comfortable, we can just text.]

You smiled. [No, it's okay.]

Baekhyun hummed leaning against the headboard. [Are you feeling better? You must have been scared.]

[Yes, I was and whenever I'm scared or something I always talk to mum but she isn't here.]

["Oh, I'm sorry.]

You frowned as his voice sounded a little sad before your eyes widened.

[What are you thinking? She's in scotland with my dad.]

Baekhyun sat up feeling embarrassed. [I'm so sorry, i thought-]

You chuckled. [It's alright.]

He smiled. [Well, at least you laughed, but you have to be careful now and did you told Daniel?]

You sighed. [No, he would feel guilty then and don't worry I carry pepper spray with me which I almost sprayed it on a innocent person.]

[Innocent person?]

[He wasn't stalker but my neighbor and I can't believe this happened second time.]

You mumbled the last sentence which was loud enough for him to hear.

[The stalker thing?] Baekhyun asked worringly.

[No, no. Actually I was on a family trip and there I felt someone following me and I sprayed the pepper spray on him but turns out he was the manager of the guest house we were staying in.]

You heard his laughter on the other side causing you roll your eyes before you lay down comfortably.

[Then what happened?]

[I got scolded by my parents and apologized to him but the whole week he stayed away from me.]

He chuckled. [Well that's how you are.]

[What do you mean?]

[Don't you remember that man at the Café? You totally scared him away.]

You bit your lip feeling embarrassed and heard his chuckle making you automatically smile. You both talked for minutes without even knowing and felt yourself getting sleepy as you let out a yawn while feeling your eyelids heavy.

["Y/n?]

Baekhyun called you but didn't got response but instead heard your soft snores from other side causing his lips stretched in a smile and cut the call before whispering softly.

"Good night, Coffee bean."

_____________

@wooya1224 @buttercupbbh