#honestly since the whole not married bombshell

[flowerflamestars]

the rolling in the graves snippet

Nesta’s voice emerged from the closet, breathless with anger in a way that piqued Lucien’s every interest, entire focusing concern. “It has to be the silk taffeta?” Word spit like a curse, coming around the corner half in a bodice she was quite actively falling out of, Nesta froze at the sight of Lucien in the middle of white rug she hated. Stopped, one arm crossed over her chest, and like it didn’t break him clean in half, smiled. That quick quirk, her real smile, sharp and small. “Lucien.” In daylight, in domesticity, her sister rattling around downstairs, Nesta saying his name. Lucien slid forward, mindful of the intimacy it truly was, brushing his palm down her bare arm. “Nesta.” She made a face, a quick-change of amusement, scowling gorgeous at the pause before she pulled him close. An exhale, the slow sloping sun of late afternoon picking up a brighter, bloodier metric across her walls, pink and gold across Nesta’s bare skin. Even Lucien’s magic wanted. “Nesta,” Lucien said again, heedless of half filling his mouth with her hair, “What’s wrong?” Shoulders low and teeth sharp against his collarbone, Nesta nuzzled as close as skin and bone would allow, before she sighed. “Fucking temple before dinner. Feyre wants us to match.” “Like children,” Elain said, sunnily, from the doorway, unbothered by their closeness or the hiss Nesta let out, pure temper in the sound. “Mother had better taste.” “Mother was a tyrant,” Nesta heaved out, tipped back in Lucien’s arms but not away, hand bunched in his shirt more than a small wonder. She turned in place, wordlessly offering him her half-bared back, pink-blotched neck curved down. “Vanserra’s good with knots.” His first, desperate urge, was to kiss her nape. To follow Nesta down, heady on the sheer acknowledgement of one true thing. His second was to start lighting things on fire. Lucien could see where she’d tried to get it herself. Where the boning, structuring sheer panels around her waist, had dug in so deep as to leave marks. “Gifts,” Nesta sighed, poisonous. “From the High Lord.”

[feroluce]

I've been in the mood lately for Ingo never making it back, and Emmet and Elesa grieving his disappearance together. They're essentially that one picture of two exhausted characters holding hands like "we have a lot of problems that making out won't solve, but won't make any worse" haha.

Elesa goes to Ingo and Emmet's apartment because it's another anniversary of The Isekai and she's feeling lonely, and she knows Emmet will be even lonelier, so hey, at least they can be lonely together. She just lets herself in because Emmet gave her a key years ago and she's not really expecting him to answer. Sure enough, poor Emmet is already facedown drunk on the living room couch.

"Good morning, Elesa."

"It's afternoon."

"It is the weekend. It is fine."

"Emmet, sweetie, it's Tuesday."

And Emmet decides that yeah, ok, it's time to get up and try to clean up a bit, that's pretty bad, even for him. Elesa follows him to the bathroom and stands behind him to wash his hair while Emmet sits in front of her in his boxers (because it's not like it's anything Elesa hasn't seen before). The subject of Ingo inevitably comes up, and Emmet reaches up behind him and wraps his hand around Elesa's thigh, slides it up and squeezes and then just stops and stays there, says he doesn't want to think about that yet. Or rather, he's BEEN thinking about him this whole time, and he doesn't want to talk about it right now, wants a break from thinking for a little bit. Elesa decides that yeah, ok, she doesn't want to do this yet either, she'd rather just be distracted for a bit and lets him carry her to the bedroom.

When she wakes up later, Emmet is gone and his pillow is cold, so Elesa helps herself to one of Ingo's giant old sleep shirts out of his drawer, because it's nice to have him just that little bit closer. She goes and finds Emmet smoking on his balcony and he apparently had the same idea, since all he's wearing are pajama pants that match her shirt with little Litwicks on them.

Elesa sits on the concrete next to him and they do finally talk about Ingo a little bit, staring out at Nimbasa. Emmet rambles a bit about inheriting everything Ingo left behind, and how there wasn't a lot of legal fuss about it. He and Ingo couldn't be officially married obviously, but at least Emmet was his next of kin. Because neither of them wanted ANYTHING of theirs to go to their good-for-nothing parents. But this presents a problem now, because Emmet had never honestly thought the universe would be so cruel as to leave him without Ingo. He never thought he'd have to worry about finding another next of kin.

Elesa sits there nodding along, listening, handling it all pretty well until Emmet wraps it up with "-which is why you and I should get married" and she nearly drops her cigarette right in her lap.

"Emmet."

"I am Emmet, yes."

"That's the least romantic proposal I've ever heard."

"Hah, it is probably the only proposal you have ever heard."

Elesa sits there and thinks about it a while because Emmet knows he just kinda dropped a bombshell and wasn't really expecting an immediate answer anyway. But marriage does have a lot of legal benefits. And if something does happen to Emmet, Elesa won't have any legal pull to even make sure his and Ingo's affairs are handled well. She doesn't want everything they made together to be ruined, especially with how hard she and Emmet had to work to keep everything running when Ingo disappeared so suddenly. Emmet is in the middle of telling her some goofy story about how he and Ingo once nearly got caught making out in their office and Ingo was so embarrassed he couldn't face any of their employees for like an entire week when Elesa blurts out of nowhere "OK, let's do it." Emmet cocks his head at her. "Get married I mean, not make out in your office." "Oh! Right."

Elesa agrees to it, but only if Emmet lets her finally move in like they've been kinda-sorta-maybe talking about for the past year or two now. Besides just wanting to be closer to Emmet (because no, they're not romantic, they're more besties with benefits but she does love him), she also wants to be somewhere filled with Ingo's presence, too. And he was here more than anywhere else. Emmet decides he's fine with that, because as it turns out he hates living alone anyway. It won't be the same without Ingo, but he wouldn't want it with anyone other than Elesa now.

They shake on it, declare themselves Spouses with Benefits, and then just go back to staring at Nimbasa while telling stories about Ingo doing stupid shit. It's not really Good, but it's Better, and that's as close as they can get right now, close enough.

[hacash]

ted lasso 2x09 thoughts

ARGH

those are it. those are my thoughts.

Ok, slightly more coherently…

Sam’s getting recognition! Sam has his own chant! I love that for him. Love it all. It’s obviously so good that Sam is becoming an in-universe hero when we’ve loved him from his first scene - however, that also comes with the caveat of not wanting him to move anywhere from Nelson Road. I’m curious to see where they take it though, because I obviously can’t see Toheeb Jimoh leaving the cast before the show finishes, but at the same time this offer is so good for him?? I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

(If, on the other hand, Toheeb is being written out because he’s going on to star as a lead in another show where we could see more of his beautiful face and stellar acting every week? I would find that acceptable.)

Screeners’ reactions for this episode had me thinking something cataclysmic and dreadful was going to happen between Sam and Rebecca with them reuniting and it hitting the papers - and it ended up being fine?? Of course she’s torn about him leaving. Even if they end up never being together again Sam clearly represents something wonderful to Rebecca - possibility and the sense of being treated right - and those feelings don’t just go away.

I expected a bit more reaction from Ted about the whole Sambecca thing, but that little look in his eyes after their conversation did have me curious - does he disapprove more than he lets on? is he secretly pining for Rebecca already? only time will tell. also I did notice Ted was once again basically saying whatever Rebecca wanted to hear and agreeing at every single line - he might be going to therapy but he’s not out of the people-pleaser woods yet.

Another bombshell next year? OH COME ON. If that’s not a prediction of some sort of confession of love I will go out and buy a hat just to eat it.

SHARON. How I am going to miss thee. But it was a lovely and understated farewell to a character that I’ve really come to love - Sexy Mother Fucker; he stole my move, yaas - showing how much she and Ted have helped each other grow and I just *tear*. Also I’m a Tedbecca shipper through and through, but Jason and Sarah do have such lovely chemistry together.

Also the pub regulars basically pleading for free therapy? Aww.

Higgins luring Ted back to read Sharon’s note with a well-chosen letter based pun? I love this man to the ends of the earth.

I FUCKING KNEW THAT HIGGINS KNEW EVERYONE’S BIRTHDAY. I PREDICTED THAT SHIT.

Roy and Keeley…I’m sorry, I’m emotional and anxious and hopeful and I do not think they’re going to break up. Relationships go through messy spots and people struggle, and the mark of a good, communicative, grown-up relationship is that you take time and discuss your issues and move past them. Keeley and Roy’s relationship has always been characterised by that maturity, and I just don’t see a couple of ill-timed romance confessions breaking that down.

(If anything, we might get a discussion from Roy about Keeley trusting him - I’m guessing there’s a fair bit of time lapsed between Jamie’s confession and her telling all to Roy, and I can see that being the sticking point that upsets Roy, that she hid this from him for some time. He clearly didn’t feel at all upset by what happened with Nate; it’s the - arguably fair - point that Keeley didn’t let him know that her ex confessed love for her that I think is going to be the issue.)

Also, the ‘are you married’ question - coupled with the fact that we keep seeing Roy on his knees in front of Keeley - makes me think we’re going to get a proposal next episode.

Also I love that we’re seeing more of Keeley’s psyche beyond the ‘cute and supports everyone’ façade - her mother’s experience with ambition and not being able to achieve it is a really interesting little snippet, not to mention the reason she bonds so much with Nate and is able to see how someone seemingly ‘undeserving’ should be able to realise their dreams.

also her and Rebecca’s ‘bleargggggh!’ competition! and Ted thinking he was going to be on the cover of Vanity Fair! return of Biscuits with the Boss!

ok, deep breaths now

NAAAAAATE

WHAT ARE YOU DOOIIIIIIING

Is it bad that I sort of liked the whole thing with Keeley? Not in a ‘yes I want this to happen’ sort of way, but because it makes so much sense that Nate (particularly Nate in his current state) might mistake that level of bonding and emotional support as something romantic. We know Nate is insecure and hasn’t had much of a social life in the past, and that he idealises Keeley for her basic kindness and decency: much like Jamie in 2x10, he’s mistaking Keeley’s kindness as something more…it’s absolutely gutting to watch, and also so human and real that I can’t help but take my hat off to the writers for it.

(Honestly, there’s been so many posts on tumblr about how toxic masculinity fucks men over to such an extent that when they receive kindness and friendship for a woman they immediately think romance - but yeah. this show does tick all the boxes.)

I did see the kiss moment coming a mile away and was really worried that Nate was going to be…uh, very entitled about it, given his current state, but the fact that he wasn’t - that he was immediately horrified and realised he’d fucked up and stumbles away muttering about how he ‘is worried about it’ and ends the scene spitting at himself in the mirror again and looking absolutely disgusted with himself - well, in a way that just hurt more. (I mean, I’m relieved Nate wasn’t all bolshy with it because his reaction does show there is still some of the old Nate still there…but still, owch.)

And then that text from Trent…

Next episode is going to hurt like hell, isn’t it? I absolutely cannot wait for the showdown between Nate and Ted, it’s been a long time coming…like I’ve said, while I think ultimately Nate is going to have a redemption arc, because thematically it makes sense and would send some pretty iffy messages if he doesn’t, I don’t think it’ll come until season three. Right now I just want to see Ted get angry after several seasons of suppressing his anger, I want a full-blown emotional hash-out between them both - basically I want Jason and Nick to have me sobbing before 9AM.

My one question is: are we going to see Nate realising what he’s done, or not? Was this a pragmatic, doing-this-for-the-sake-of-the-club betrayal or a blind, lashing-out-in-frustration betrayal? In short: is Nate Lando or Anakin in this scenario?

I’m very curious as to what show people who say this ‘came out of nowhere’ have been watching. Nate’s been heading for some sort of implosion since mid-season, and we all knew it was going to hurt some innocent bystanders.

I’m saving something light and cheery after all the angst, so let me just say: cinema has never surpassed, and will never surpass, the scene of the Richmond boys dancing along to Bye Bye Bye. Almost made up for the fact that they were criminally underused in the rest of the episode, and quite frankly this had better be redressed in the season finale.

and WE FINALLY SAW COLIN DRIVING THE LAMBO. I don’t know what I find funnier: the fact that it’s some neon lime green monstrosity that every fourteen-year old boy would have dreamt of owning growing up (should my new Colin tag be Colin ‘I Need To Rethink My Relationship With My Car’ Hughes, or Colin ‘More Money Than Sense’ Hughes? enquiring minds want to know…) or as was pointed out to me by @kamillahn, the look of absolute terror on Colin’s face as he begins to drive. Colin, hun, please just buy yourself a Fiat. It’s not worth it anymore.

[maliciouslycreative]

How I played damage control to an anti in a small anime fandom and may have led to her ultimate downfall

I know I had a really nice write up of this at one point but oh well. I’ll spill more of the tea in this one because honestly the tea was so hot.

There are a few things that I have to give context to first. Gaia online was like THE mega forum of the 2000s, you made a little avatar and through posting and doing other activities on the forum you made money to buy clothes for your avatar. There were forums for everything but the fannish portions were really what drew in most of the people. The anime I was into was Beyblade. It was a shonen anime about fighting with tops that were possessed by the spirits of magical creatures. The story was honestly pretty average but the characters were fantastic and the fandom is to this day still one of my favourites. The series had a primarily male cast and didn’t even have a female lead until the second season. This led to the fanfic for the English fandom being about 70% canon/OC, 10 % canon m/f, and 20% slash. The most popular character in the English fandom was by far Kai Hiwatari, the loner badboy of the team.

Also before we get started I would like to add that one of my best friends was neck deep in this and the two of us were more or less fandom married. This is the same friend that I fake dated, had feelings for, and she nearly got me into kpop in 2011 so like if you haven’t read that story please read it too because it will give you a good idea of how stupid I am and how much of a fanfic I have truly lived. 

To set the stage I was 16, soon to be 17 when I joined the fandom and it was 2004. In September of that year I wrote a humour longfic that became an absolute smash hit and I found myself somehow fandom famous. It was around this time that I joined Gaia online. I made my little avatar and immediately went looking for the beyblade thread so that I could make new friends. I found the main thread, made my little introduction and at the end of it mentioned that I was a slash writer but I supported all ships. This is where I met C. She had declared herself the authority on Beyblade in these parts and I had just committed the crime of mentioning slash which was very obviously not canon and we did not discuss in this thread because we only discussed canon things. I was like well that’s a bit severe but like sure whatever I just want to hang out and have fun. 

Oh boy did I have no idea what I was in for. 

C was a year older than me and unfortunately that made her older than the majority of the fans at the time. Her favourite character was Kai, and she was not shy about talking about this fact. She stanned Kai above all other characters, and often at their expense. She was also a fanfic writer of a popular canon/OC series. Actually, she was so full of herself that she didn’t even call herself a fanfic writer, no her stories were in fact novels and were apparently very good. I never read them. But more on that later. 

Eventually the slash fans got tired of her being rude to us in the general thread so we made a Beyblade slash thread. There was a core of like 8 or so of us and we honestly had sooo much fun. When C would be too unbearable in the main thread the people from there used to come over to our thread and we’d chat with them about non slash stuff because we were honestly all multishippers and just wanted to have fun. We’d get comments like “wow, I’ve had more pleasant canon het ship discussions in the slash thread than the regular thread”. We never worried about C coming over and getting upset about comments like this because she refused to be associated with anything related with slash lmao. 

I tried my best to keep the peace between C, myself, and the rest of the fandom because ultimately I hate being in fandom drama. I just want everyone to have a good time. I’m a people pleaser. Unfortunately my newfound fame put me in the awkward position of being the most fandom popular person in our small community aside from C. Virtually every fan that read fanfics that came into our thread knew one of us or the other by reputation and C HATED this. Especially because people would come in to the thread, recognise me and go “oh my goodness I love your fanfics!” and I’d be super sweet with them and it’d lead into “I can’t believe how nice you are, I love you” which would lead to us crying at each other. This was not the kind of fan interaction that C got, no her fans were more kind that were there to praise her and worship her like a deity that had blessed them with some gift. Rarely did they tell her how kind she was. 

Back in the mid 2000s there were really commonly those commercials (usually by Christian organisations) asking people to sponsor say children in Africa or to help build schools or provide drinking water. You all probably know the ones; know the language that they used in those commercials. My fandom wife, who I suppose I shall call wifey because yes we were THAT couple back then, once said that C described her fics like those people described donating money to save the lives of Children in Africa. So we used to joke that her fics were so good they’d save lives in Africa. Looking back at it all, she almost had a very fundamentalist Christian approach to bringing people into her fanfics. She of course tried to get all the slash people into reading it. None of us read canon/oc fic mostly due to our poor treatment at the hands of their fans and creators. Getting fed up I one day told her that if she would read any one of my fanfics that I would read the entirety of her novels. Yes, I was willing to commit to read a couple 100k of canon/oc fanfic that I’d never touch normally if she would even read one of my 1k 1 shots. Heck, I had a fic even that shipped 2 minor characters so she didn’t even have to sully herself reading about one of the main characters. It was honestly a good deal in her favour. I kept this up until the day we all left the fandom. Sometimes I do wonder if her fics were even ¼ as good as she claimed, but I will never know because she refused to read my fics. 

She wasn’t all bad and a tyrant all the time. As long as people kept the conversations on track and didn’t come in to the thread saying things like “KAI IS SO HOT ND T3H BEST N I AM GUN 2 MARRY HIM” she stayed mostly civil. It was always hilarious watching InuYahsa or Naruto fans try to come in and bad mouth Beyblade because they’d unleash the dragon and C was great at chasing off undesirables in the thread. 

The real apex of goings on though on Gaia was the guild drama. So guilds were like exclusive themed mini forums within Gaia. Anyone could buy one and run it however they want, as long as it still adhered to Gaia’s ToS. C of course was the owner of the only Beyblade guild. The fandom wasn’t really big enough to support 2 guilds so we just kind of let it go. Technically she allowed people to post slash fanfics but like everything had to be explicitly tagged and there was absolutely no slash RP. Wifey and I controlled a handful of minor characters together in the forum RP and definitely used to try to push the boundaries a little bit. Some ambiguous flirting here, a stray comment there. It was such a fragile balance though because C was heavy on the ban button. The active portion of the guild was just people that were in the cult of C and worshipped her writing. 

Understandably the other slash fans and myself were getting disheartened by this. So we pooled our funds together and decided that we’d open a second guild that though it was run by slash fans we would welcome anyone into our ranks. We just wanted to have a fun place for everyone to hang out, and to hopefully run a few events out of. In hindsight, we should have seen what would happen. When we opened the guild, with me as the guild leader, it was like somebody blew up the whole dam protecting the delicate ecosystem we had cultivated. Every single person in the Gaia fandom that was not a zealous follower of C applied to be in our guild and left her guild. We of course figured that we’d attract some of the gen population but we did not expect to accidentally poach all of it. All of the moderators were getting messages from people thanking us for giving them a place where they could say whatever they wanted without fear of getting their faces ripped off or banned. 

C lost her shit. She was so mad that we went behind her back to ruin her guild. We literally had to show her posts in the very public slash thread that we had been planning this in public and that it was not to ruin her life. We just wanted a place where we could freely post slash. The two of us had some spicy comments back and forth and then she dropped an absolute bombshell on me. Since Gaia’s mail system is terrible I unfortunately no longer have exactly what she said but it was something along the lines of “Ok, you win. I’m going to close my guild.”. Us slash fans had never been doing this to win anything. We had never been competing. We just wanted a safe space to be ourselves. 

C never joined our guild. The fandom slowly faded out within the next year anyway. We weren’t getting new content so naturally people just drifted into other fandoms. C kept up with the main Beyblade thread for a lot longer than most of us but eventually that eventually faded into obscurity too. 

I learned a lot about fandom bullies from those days. But honestly the thing that stuck with me the most out of everything was that if you provide a positive safe space for people they will flock to it. It may seem like there are so many hostile people out there, but there really aren't. They're the minority but they just make sure that their voice is the loudest. The best way is to ignore them and just do your own thing. The bullies just want attention and if you don’t give it to them and prove to them that their opinion doesn’t matter to you then they’ll move in and find something else to yell at. 

[ladylillianrose]

Thoughts on Episode 11 (take 2):

SPOILERS BELOW!!

Alright I’ll get this out there right now…OMG OMG OMG OMG!!! AHHHHHHHH!!! ASDFGHJKL!!!

I haven’t fangirl squeed like this since the Max/Zoey moments in Episode 12 (Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist)!!

*deep breaths* okay I’m calm….for the moment.

I’ll go into everything else before I touch on Serkan and Eda.

I really really really hate how Selin treats Ferit, he deserves better, someone who truly loves him. Honestly I’m kind of hoping he will decide to leave Selin at the altar. A man can only be ignored for another man so many times before he’s done!

Ayfer’s reaction to the contract is a bit over the top, granted she didn’t have all the facts, but still it’s not as though they eloped and are actually married. Especially because she is now deceiving Eda with the scholarship money, which we all know Eda will find out the truth about.

Aydan’s talk with Eda is not terribly surprising all things considered. Yes they’ve grown close and Eda has helped them all, but Aydan is not a woman who embraces change. Selin is the model wife for Serkan, she will listen to whatever Aydan says and wants (something Eda does not do), and because Serkan is not in love with Selin their marriage should ve “safe” from heartaches. Aydan wants to keep her only child close and to protect him from the world, even at the cost of losing the woman he loves.

I’m glad all the girls know the truth now, it was hard for Eda to deceive everyone, though in the end she wasn’t acting anymore, she does love Serkan. But it was causing a strain on the friendship so I’m pleased that they all made up.

I love Eda and Leyla’s relationship. Eda has helped Leyla grow and Leyla has gotten easier and I’m 100% here for sassy/snarky Leyla!

I really do love Engin, he’s just so sweet but clueless when it comes to the women in his life.

So I realized writing my last post that Engin is in a similar situation to Sekan with the two women in his life. On the one hand there is the woman who they’ve known, worked with a d been friends with for years, who has feelings for them (Piril/Selin). And on the other you have the newcomer who helps pull them out of their shell, gets to know the real them outside of work (Engin claims to have a life outside of work, but we have yet to see proof if it), and they are so different from the other women in their lives like a breath of fresh air (Ceren/Eda).

I hope that Engin forgives Ceren because I like them together, they’re adorable and sweet together.

Alptekin’s bombshell, wow, I mean WOW! It definitely sheds light onto why Eda doesn’t want her grandmother’s money. They say the money is Eda’s by right, which it would be since she lost both her parents. It would also explain why Eda and her grandmother do not speak, Eda would see taking the money as a betrayal to her parent’s memories. If Alptekin covered it all up, he would have paid an exorbitant amount of money to the family to keep it from being investigated or in the news (something neither family would want as it would be unseemly). Eda views the money as blood/hush money, gotten at the cost of her parent’s lives, so she wants no part of it. I think this will make the fact that Ayfer went to her mother for the money for Eda, a bigger issue for Eda, with Ayfer going behind her back against her wishes.

The way Ayfer insists that Eda have nothing to do with any of the Bolat’s makes me wonder if she knows that the holding is responsible for the death of Eda’s parents and that Alptekin is the one who arranged to have it covered up.

Now onto our favorite couple!!

The interlocked hands and cheek kiss in front of Selin and Ferit were just so natural, they both forgot that they were just playing parts.🥰🥰

Telling Serkan’s fortune with the song? Oh yes most assuredly, and of course now we have the reason for the show name (apparently it is also Piril’s actress doing the singing, which is lovely and awesome)

I love Ceren and Engin offering advice and the parallel shots/dialogue. Engin is really trying to get Serkan to realise that Eda does love him!

Ugh and the sleeping on “their” sides of the bed with the picture and guitar pick?😭😭😭 Also I love that the picture is from when they had to “make up” after a “fight” on the balcony while the girls listened in. You know Melo was the one to take the picture, print it out and give it to him (I love her and Serkan’s relationship!)

Lmao at the watch coming back! Always beeping around Eda, despite his claims that the watch is broken he still wears it 🤣🤣😉

The doctor’s rose house and story were so lovely and beautiful. That is totally going to be their home together, he had her designing the house and gardens to what she would want. She even said she would want to live in a house like that (so would I!). He could use it once it’s all fixed as the place to truly propose!🥰🥰🥰

Serkan desperately trying to keep Eda at his side in the office. He’s just so sure that she wants to get away from him because she doesn’t like him. 🥺🥺🥺

Bless Seyfi for always looking out for team Edser! He knows who and what Serkan needs! (If this was Shakespeare, Seyfi would be Robin Goodfellow/Puck bringingnour lovers together). And Eda dropping everything to be at his side.

Also Eda telling Selin she would stay with him, despite Selin saying that Serkan likes to be alone when he is sick. Selin may have known him for longer, but she only knows the facade that Serkan puts up to keep people at a distance. Eda knows the real Serkan, he trusts her and is open with her in a way he isn’t with anyone else.

Telling one another’s fortunes with pages from The Little Prince was so sweet (made me want to go back and read it again since it’s been at least 20 years since I last read it).

Serkan’s painful memories 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺. My heart aches for him so. I feel for the whole family, but he was so young and he needed love and support, but instead was sent away. It sheds light on why he’s so reserved with his emotions and trust, and I hope he will be able to share the whole story with Eda (and us) someday.

“Eda do not leave me.” “I’ll go too. Wherever you want.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰🥰 Serkan is so vulnerable here. And of course he doesn’t remember any of it until it’s almost too late!!!

Eda telling Selin the truth, ugh my heart 💔💔💔. And then looking like she might faint from the stress and heartbreak of it (though she’s fainted less and less with Serkan around to help with her anxiety/stress, though he has caused his fair share too!)

I was wondering when we would get to see Sirius again! Sweet boy just wants Mom and Dad to be happy together. And Serkan trying to use Sirius as an excuse to see Eda again😭😭😭

Serkan giving us a heart attack calling Selin to meet him. I don’t think he ever intended to say yes to Selin, he was just stalling for more time till he could come up with a different solution. I certainly hope Selin gets a bit of a backbone after this realizing that she needs to stop dropping everything for Serkan (even when it isn’t him doing the calling/asking).

Serkan making the taxi pullover, declaring that Eda is his bride, and taking charge!😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥 Serkan is always hot, but there is something about him taking control that is just 🔥🔥🔥🥵🥵🥵

Asking about packing flip flops in her suitcase because it is so light 🤣🤣🤣. Serkan mark my words she will get you in a pair of flip flops someday!

The confession🥰🥰🥰 so complete them, arguing, talking about how Serkan can’t get her out of his head! ❤❤

And finally a real kiss!!! All their other almost kisses (and the first kiss) are so charged with UST (which I love), but this one was so sweet, loving and romantic!😍😍😍😍

Now I’m off to watch the end of the episode and the fragman for 12 on repeat until next Wednesday!!

Alright I think that was everything I had written before. If not I’m sure I’ll add some random posts later lol.

[ashley-ghuleh]

Chapter 1: A Friend

(Little note, this is waaaay longer then I thought it would be. But I’m pretty happy with it, here’s to just writing to have fun~<3)

In which a Phoenix befriends a Crow. And the roaring Fire is to meet the Icy Sea.

High school for the rich, some think it would be nicer than a middle class school. Nice kids from prestigious families with good standing reputations. Those people are wrong, rich schools are just as bad if not worse than those of anything lower than them.

Rude kids who were living either spoiled lives with parents who gave them everything they’ve ever wanted.

Or kids coming from homes where they feel smothered by the ‘charitable acts’ their family was known for, or how controlling their parents could be.

And then the kids who didn’t have it so rough who rebelled no matter, just wanting to cause trouble for fun, showing up for school properly dressed and disheveling themselves once in the building without a care if a teacher scolded them, though most teachers have given up on this type of student and their stubborness.

But not all students who acted or dressed this way came from a household that was normal or standard for a rich family. Some who did this came from a place like, The Kohle family.

When it came to higher power in a society of nothing but fake suits and dresses.

The Kohle’

A house made of a mother and father like most were, Elizabeth Grace Kohle Heiress to the original bloodline of Kohle, and James Kohle, formally James McKnight though when he married into the family he had taken the Kohle name in place for his given name as to gain further power from the title. This family on the outside looks picture perfect. Seven kids, six boys and one girl, blessed with many children to continue on the family name. Two loving parents to care for the kids and bring their family to greatness. But under the picture of a ‘perfect’ family portrait lies the full unedited truth. Seven kids, six boys and one girl, six prodigal children and one black sheep. It wasn’t easy being the disappointment, but it was a dirty job and somebody had to do it, and that somebody was Marcus Kohle, born fourth before the twins, his father’s only hated child and his mother’s favorite. 

Being babied and spoiled by his mother and disregarded or shunned by his father and other siblings his father has turned against him, happened to be what shaped this tiny rebel.

Marcus looked like any normal teenager going into school, but these students wouldn’t know this was his fifth transfer for fighting and being an all around troublemaker. 

He walked through the halls remembering the short tour, his school uniform tidy and neat, his hair nicely styled as his mother had done for him before he left that morning, everything in its place. 

Until he stepped through the doors, heading right to the locker rooms. Changing into black beat up combat boots and then ruffling up his hair so it hung perfectly a mess, while undoing the buttons on his uniform dress shirt and loosening his tie to hang lazily around his neck. Walking out he strolled with his bag to his locker ready to cause some chaos.

Those feeling suffocated by the bosom of their parent’s cloaked public affection were like Ashley Carter.

The Carter’

This home was built on a steady arranged marriage of two high school sweethearts, David Carter and Adela Guilani now Adela Guilani-Carter. She kept her maiden name so if things got ugly she could easily drop the hyphenated last name of her husband. Two ‘loving’ parents of course, who were blessed with a single gifted daughter. 

Being born with birth defects that stunned the two parents had been such a reputation concern, that they announced the birth of their daughter without showing her face. The doctor had said Ocular Albinism didn’t run in the family lineage as far as they could find, it just happened to be a rare occurrence.

Rare she was, Ashley Carter was an oddity in a world of normalcy that her parents tried to force upon her. Once she had hit 14 she didn’t care much anymore.

She was the family disappointment, a disgrace to the family name and she would never be what her parents wanted for an heir or a child.

This torn family dynamic wasn’t lost on most other families, some of them were sympathetic, giving the pale eyed girl a safe place to decompress and feel as though nothing or no one could do anything to her, they couldn’t touch her in these safe havens.

Walking into school, she was in her school uniform of course. Hair tied up in high ponytail and her uniform skirt pulled up some to show off her knees as well as her top two blouse buttons undone and her cherry red converse squeaked softly as she trudged to her locker, another day of torture was all she could think.

But she didn’t know that she was about to make the friend that would fight for her till the end.

Some of her friends met up with her to walk to the lockers, chatting softly as she would adjust her sunglasses, the indoor/outdoor lenses for these ones taking a little longer than usual to switch over.

Ashley looked the same as she did the year prior, but with this new year and being a year older, she had changed her looks a bit, having decided she was done hiding she no longer wore her colored contacts to hide her eyes and the most outrageous part of her new look was her new hair color.

Kids from other classes and her own watched her walk by, chest length hair that was now a bold fiery red, Ashley was tired of hiding, wanting to be seen for the girl she could and would be. This new color caused her ‘poor’ mother to faint and her father to demand her to “Wash it out! Now!” Only for the recently rebellious teen to reply with, “ It’s permanent. And no~”

The colors resembled the many hidden within a burning flame, reds, oranges and even some soft pinks, yellowy oranges, all laid out with the best strategies to make her unnatural hair color look.. Well natural. It made her skin seem paler but brought out the color of her freckles, her eyes though always milky crystal seemed to be brighter in a sense.

Closing in on their destination, Ashley and her friends slowed to see a new student being cornered by the lockers, the red haired girl’s happened to be the one this boy’s back was pressed to. “ Hey! I said to say something funny, you're the new foreign kid right? I bet you got a fucking hilarious voice and accent! Go on skinny, say something!” This teasing voice, that was oh so grating on Ashley’s ears made her groan, it belonged to a boy she hasn’t been able to stand since they met at the age of 10, “ Tommy. Fucking. Wilson.” She grumbled now standing before said boy, a born jock through and through. It was like in the dna for that family or something. He would’ve been handsome if he didn’t act so ugly.

“Ashley Carter~ Finally ready to submit to me and become my girlfriend.” The new student against the locker, snorted with a sharp inhale before snickering. “ She’s way out of your league.” His voice was soft, masculine for a 14 year old boy and oddly feminine in an angelic satisfying way. 

The two girls that had been walking with Ashley giggled at the remark and not so much the strange European accent he had and tried to fight around.

Tommy and his two friends looked confused and then shrugged it off. “ I changed my mind, totally thought that you would sound funny but you don’t and honestly..” He narrowed his eyes at the new boy. “ The sound of your voice makes me wanna punch you.” He brought his fist up and Ashley stepped in, smacking Tommy on the back of the head, while he reacted she spoke, glaring down at him. “ If you lay a finger on him, I’ll remind you of what I did when you messed with Cecilia’s lunch and fed her meat. Knowing full well she went vegetarian.” The young jock’s eyes widened at the idea and he straightened himself out and dusted his shirt off. “ Well.. I guess-” “ You're just going to let a girl scare you?” Came the squeaky voice of another boy in Tommy’s little friend group.

Ashley stepped forward putting more heat into her gaze while taking her sunglasses off to show fully the anger in her murky eyes. “ Test your luck punk.” She hissed before the small gaggle of boys and Tommy became legitimately scared and ran off down the hall pushing passed students as they went.

The new boy stood up and sighed, running his hand through his messy hair, “ They didn’t hurt you did they?” Came a sweet soft voice belonging to a beautiful girl only describable as looking like a picture of a blond bombshell girl, the little accessories she wore and her vintage looking makeup were perfect replicas of most early war propaganda posters from the 50s. “ I’m fine thanks..” He said softly trying to not talk too loud, any louder than he was his accent would slip.

“I’m Cecilia, you can call me Cici~” She held out her hand, cocking a brow. He took it and shook it weirdly, clearly uncomfortable.

A tall raven haired girl on Ashley’s other side grinned and gave a tiny two finger wave. “ I’m Lilith. Call me Lili or Li'l.” He nodded at her before looking at Ashley whole nodded at him. “ I’m Ashley. Also the girl who just saved your little tush. What’s your name, new kid?” She asked while getting into her locker and arranging her things and grabbing what she’d need for her class.

He grumbled something under his breath and then sighed through his nose. “ Marcus.. Kohle..” Cecilia jumped and gasped. “ Holy shit! Like the Kohle family from Germany that owns and operates a huge oil rig branch?!?” Groaning the new kid, Marcus, nodded and rubbed his forehead.

“Don’t remind me please.” He sighed, Lilith and Ashley both nudged Cici who shrugged and flailed a bit, “ S-sorry sugar.. Didn’t mean to upset you. So! You guys just moved here right? You're gonna need some friends!” She giggled, smiling brightly. Ashley nodded, “ Yea, and it might as well be us if you're gonna survive in this jungle. Especially if you want to avoid conflict with Tommy.” Marcus grinned and laughed coldly. “ I was doing my best.. Not to hit him.” Lilith nodded.

“Steer clear of him if you can kid, he packs a punch..” Ashley snorted and shut her locker, “ When he can land one. My depth perception is clinically off by birth and can aim a hit better. Tommy couldn’t hit the broad side of a cow with a banjo.” She quipped while looking down slightly at Marcus. “ What class do you have first?” The german boy looked at his curriculum list. “ English li-....” He frowned at the word he was obviously having a hard time with. Cecilia peeked over his shoulder and saw it, “ English literature.. Not to be rude, hun, but I’m guessing your English reading is..” She raised a worried brow and Marcus frowned deeper and flapped his hand back and forth, the three girls looked at each other and nodded. “ It's okay, we’re all in that class with you, so we’ll help you. We’re friends now! So we’re gonna do what friends do best and help each other~” Cecilia giggled, her giggles were infectious and Marcus smiled softly, Ashley looked down at him taking him in for a moment, small and thin as a whip. His hair was messy and was a rich, dark black, it was so dark it had a soft tint of an iridescent shine like crow feathers. His face was sharp, feminine. His skin was almost sickly pale, but his eyes were what stood out to her.

Deep, blue oceanic eyes. They looked tired, obvious by the deep set circles under them, but she found herself feeling like she was falling into a dark blue void, swirling through an angry whirlpool in the temperamental sea. Even with how emotionally exhausted he looked, his eyes held this intense energy to them.

Ripped from her thoughts by her friends, she looked to see if they noticed she had spaced out, Marcus didn’t notice, neither did the girls, Lilith was running her fingers through Marcus’ messy tresses. “ Your hair is so cool.. It reminds me of a crow~” She grinned, the foreign boy nodded his thanks softly. “Oh! Oh! Our little friend group is complete! We’ve got the sassy Italian’s,” She giggled, waving at herself and Lilith, “ I’m Italian too..” Ashley pouted, “ Yes, but now we also have.” She sang that ‘a’ to draw it out while shoving Marcus and Ashley shoulder to shoulder, “ The phoenix and the crow~” The blond bubbled and grinned brightly.

The two looked at each other and then shrugged, “ Works for me. Just don’t be calling me that around others.” He grumbled though wasn’t actually grumpy about it, Ashley nodded, “ I mean I like it but it's a little… Stage name-y? How about something more subtle for general use?”

Marcus looked up at her and immediately spoke before anyone else could. “ Ash.” He stated plainly. “ Phoenix's rise from ashes, reborn into the world. Becoming greater with every rebirth.” He said with a bored tone almost like it was so obvious before adding on, “ Plus it's her name but shortened.. I am foreign but not dumb.”

The girls all laughed and smiled at the boy’s antics, he was going to be a lot of fun to get to know and hang out with. Already each girl held special places in their hearts for this precious kid and wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

“Well gang.. We better get to class before Professor Davidson comes searching for us.” Groaning at the idea they made sure they all had everything including Marcus and went onto class.

Walking down the hallway were four new best friends, and two who would stand up for the other no matter the scenario. Beautiful bonds were made between the Phoenix, and the Crow. 

But the two thought, how would the intense Fire handle meeting the Freezing Sea, that’s been raging for centuries?

That’s something they’ll find out together. As they would do so, with many things to come.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Seven

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual situations, violence, abuse

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"Vivian, c'mon." Fred pleads, as I grip the headboard of the hotel bed as he tugs at my ankles. 

"I'm not talking to that freaking reporter." I protest.

"Vivian."

"Rolling Stone can suck my clit." I argue back, trying to maintain my grip.

"Vivian, you are acting like a crazy person." 

"I'm pretty sane compared to the other motherfuckers." I wince, my joint in my ankle popping. 

"It's not gonna be that bad, Viv--"

"--He's gonna ask about Vanity."

"So, let him, you and Nikki already know how to handle the Vanity questions." He insists. "We spent an hour going over it yesterday." 

"Fred, I can't."

"Viv, babe, c'mon, now. Please." He begs again. "For me, please." 

I think about it for a moment, before letting go of the head board, gaining a relieved sigh from him. 

"Thank you." He tells me as I pull my heels on and smooth my hair over. 

The nightmare of that freaking Rolling Stone journalist following us around for days, picking and prodding, was everything everybody thought it would be. Possibly the deepest question he asked, about the actual craft of Mötley Crüe's talent, was, "so how is the amount of chicks you guys fuck incorporated into the songs?"

As if they would even answer that honestly being that three of them were married and one of the three had a toddler at home with his wife.

And I was particularly annoyed because me and Nikki had to act like the most in love people in the world to debunk the Vanity bullshit.

I hold my breath the second the question leaves his lips, but nobody can trip up on the inevitable topic that we knew would come up at some point. 

Nikki's clearing his throat to cover the pause after "so, obviously there's buzz going on about the bombshell Vanity dropped on the Arsenio Hall Show" leaves Cal, our reporter's, lips.

"That whole thing was just...bullshit." Nikki tells him, laughing it off, looking at me.

I laugh along, too, although we both know it's the farthest thing from funny. 

"I heard it was a 'misunderstanding' or something like that." Cal adds. 

"It's not really hard to have misunderstandings with her, honestly." Nikki admits, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. 

"So, there was never an engagement?"

"I think she's let Hollywood get straight to her head." Nikki tells him. "I'm not trying to be an ass but that really put us," he motions between himself and I, "in a really fucked position for a couple days because obviously you hear one of your girlfriends say, you know, 'hey, I'm engaged to so-n-so', and you're married to 'so-n-so', and then have that added stigma about guys like your husband not being able to commit because all the girls around and everything…" He trails off. "And, look, I'm not upset that Vivian was thinking there could've been some truth to it, ya know? But even after Viv realized it was all shit, it was all out there and people were--and still probably are--thinking that it's true. So the media is constantly, wherever we go, asking about my 'alleged' engagement and if we're still even married or got divorced a while ago and so on. And I could give a fuck about public scrutiny, myself, because I knew what I was signing up for when I started a band. I took everything into consideration, but she didn't sign up for people calling her 'stupid' and looking at her to do something, when Vanity--who has no idea what the fuck she's saying or how heavy the allegations she's throwing around are--convinces people that she's engaged to me." Nikki goes on. 

"So, Vanity was lying?"

"Vanity was lying." Nikki shrugs. 

"You opened up a little bit earlier about your past struggles with heroin--you didn't accidentally propose to her when--"

"Write this down word for word, and put it as the fucking cover quote if you want to: I, Nikki Sixx, would have to be on a high dose of pure horse tranquilizer in order to be so fucked that I'd willingly propose, or agree to get married, to Vanity." Nikki says matter-of-fact. "And that's married or single." 

I felt horrible. I wasn't happy with Vanity, I was livid with her...but I knew what it felt like to feel crazy as a result of Nikki switching the story. The drugs were already taunting her sanity, and we just fucking added to it by saying something--that so obviously happened--never happened.

We were both so full of shit.

I let out a breath as I we get off the bus when we reach the venue, needing to get away from Cal and Nikki's lies for a couple minutes. 

I catch up to Mick and Emi, who're having a conversation, Emi's girlish giggling has me raising a brow, and I feel someone tap on my shoulder. 

Tansy. 

"Fuck off." I snap at her and she looks like she's going to cry. 

"Vi--"

"--You knew she was fucking him, and then protected them by keeping it from me. Fuck. Off." I clench through my teeth. 

This is enough to get her off my back as we head inside, as Emi let's out more laughter. 

Mick and Emi--who had a husband of 6 months back home--were growing closer and closer, oddly enough. I kind of knew something was up, but of course I never told anyone. I knew Nikki would give them hell for it, especially Mick, since he specifically told him, Tommy and Vince when they hired Donna and Emi, not to sleep with them/have a relationship with any of them because, "you don't shit in your own yard." 

So I kept my mouth shut, but Nikki and the guys eventually caught on to what was happening, anyway, and he and Tommy set loose a wrath on them any chance they felt like it.

I keep my expression neutral as the guys make their way by to go on once Doc tells them it's time. 

I avert my gaze from Nikki when he walks by,  being that Cal isn't even paying attention. 

But Nikki ensures the upkeep of our facade--his hand grasping my jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention, as he presses a solid, passionate, knee-weakening kiss on my lips. 

When he's pulling away, he looks like he wasn't quite expecting it to be that good, but he's brushing it off in no time, giving me a smirk and a wink before grabbing his bass from his tech and getting where he needs to be for set, leaving me stunned in my spot. 

Once I snap out of my little trance, I’m going to the bathroom to fix my smudged lipstick.

I let out a heavy breath as I look at myself in the mirror, taking deep breaths. “He cheated on you.” I tell myself. “He lied, he slept with one of your friends, and he cheated on  you.” I repeat, trying to hammer my level head back into place as opposed to letting it run wild with fantasies over stupid little kiss...which is easier said than done.

As I’m stepping out of the bathroom, I’m running smack-dab into Sparkie, and I roll my eyes at his mere presence.

“Sorry.” I mumble, stepping by him, only to hear him walking behind me. 

“So, I’ve been thinking…” He starts and I exhale deeply, ignoring him, until he’s grabbing at my wrist, stopping me. “...I was gonna offer you a belated anniversary present but I guess you aren’t interested.” He states, dead, sunken in eyes cutting at me. 

“I’m not interested. Fuck off.” I hiss.

“You weren’t whistling that note last night.” He echoes and I snap around, shushing him so the people around us won’t hear what else he’s about to say. He just gets this smug smile on his face.

“Oh, right, I forgot people would flip their shit if they knew Saint Vivian was interested in scoring.” He slyly smiles, his decaying teeth making me grimace. How the hell does Tansy kiss him?

“I wasn’t interested in scoring--”

“--Why the hell else would you show up to my room at three in the morning, Viv?” He cuts me short, and I let out a breath. “Unless you wanted to fuck or something…”

“You really are on drugs, huh?” I sarcastically shoot back in reference to him being so insane to think I would actually want to sleep with him. 

“I’ve seen pictures of some cute little tricks you can do.” He says again, his fingers grazing at my cheek.

“Want me to go tell Nikki that?” I ask him--knowing I honestly should because Nikki would probably kill him if Tommy, Vince, or Fred, didn’t beat him to it--and he smiles.

“Sure, why not. It’ll be the perfect conversation starter as to why his precious, purely clean wife was in my hotel room after everybody was passed out.” He whispers, his atrocious breath is purely smoke and alcohol, before he’s rubbing his hand down my stomach, nearly getting between my legs before I force him away from me, controlling my urge to hit him as I turn and walk away. 

There was no way to explain why I went to Sparkie in the middle of the night, without it sounding like I was up to no good--not just because Sparkie is the physical embodiment of “no good”, but because I actually was up to no good.

I wipe more of my tears, dotting cold water from the bathroom sink under my eyes to try to calm the puffiness before grabbing some toilet paper and blowing my nose. 

I can’t fucking sleep, once again.

I dig in my toiletry bag to see if I packed any benadryl to help me sleep...but all I see is my bottle of Nardil.

I roll my jaw and feel frustration fill me before I’m unscrewing the cap and throw the bottle at the mirror, the pills strewing all over the bathroom counter. My hand is swiping against the cold counter, knocking a majority of the pills into the toilet before I’m flushing them.

They’re just a fucking waste of money. I’m realizing now they quit working a while ago, I was just so bombarded with loving Nikki in our perfect little bubble, but now it’s been popped, and I’m crashing down from my codependent high--that was disguised as genuine happiness and the lie that my antidepressant was working--is now gone.

A deep breath leaves my lips and I wipe my tears, again, deciding to just get something to put me to sleep. 

One fucking ambien or quaalude won’t kill me. 

The last place I want to be is pacing in front of Sparkie and Tansy’s room door but here the hell I am. 

I knock on the door, quietly, hoping he isn’t completely smacked out or he won’t come answer.

When the door swings open, he’s in tattered underwear, his bloodshot eyes looking at me, confused.

The bitter smell of burning heroin and coke flows past him into the hallway, cutting at my nose, and I grimace.

“I can’t sleep.” I tell him, quietly. 

“And?”

“I need something to help me sleep.” I explain.

My skin crawls when his eyes snake up my bare legs, his tongue running on the inside of his lips.

“I might have something for you.” He grins. “What’re you willing to give for it, though?”

I’m repulsed by him, but I don’t show my disgust.

“Nikki’s got plenty of money.” I state. “I can pay you back later.” He thinks a moment, before smirking. 

“The satisfaction of giving you your first ‘big girl’ drug is enough.” He says, stepping aside, and I cross my arms and step into the room, seeing Tansy knocked out cold on the bed, her naked body looking like a skeleton.

He’s plopping his suitcase on the bed, opening it, and I feel a sick feeling in my stomach at the sight of insane amounts--in bulk--in coke, heroin--at least two different kinds, judging by what I've seen Nikki with the past few years--and a copious amount of pills. 

I'm eyeing the pills, but when he reaches for a lump of tar, and looks at me deviously, I have to hold back vomit. 

"If you want to hold up the Sixx reputation, I highly recommend this." He says as if it's a fucking joke my husband is strung out. 

My eyes dart from the heroin, to the needles in a ziplock stored in the zipper compartment of the luggage. 

"I just need a pill to help me sleep." I tell him and he holds back laughter before holding his hand up as if telling me to hold on for a second as he goes to Tansy's purse. 

I hear him open a bottle and the rustling of pills, before he's bringing me back a pill and handing it to me.

Seeing it in the light, I realize it's a tylenol. 

"Come back when you're actually fun enough to maybe keep Nikki's eyes from straying." He mocks me and I roll my jaw before throwing the pill across the room and storming out. 

I didn't get any sleep that night.

I shake away at the memory, a single, stray tear rolling down my cheek before I'm quickly swiping it away as "Dancing on Glass" booms from the stage. 

I was so fucking sad. I wish there was a way to describe it that didn't sound so mundane...but that's what it was. Just fucking sadness being suppressed constantly with makeup and a decent smile, knowing I wasn't good enough. I felt like I was living with my mom all over again.

After the show's over, we head back to the hotel with Cal in tow, shooting off questions left and right that have nothing to do with the show itself.

"I gotta go to the bathroom." Nikki mumbles, standing up and I know he's just going to get away from Cal, and decide I'd rather be trapped in a small bathroom with Nikki, than hear another question along the lines of "so what drug is your favorite?" 

As Nikki's shutting the door, I'm getting my foot in, stopping him and he looks at me confused, before reluctantly letting me in. 

We wait in awkward silence before I'm pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"Don't kiss me like that again." I tell him, sternly but politely, looking up at him and he pretends to be infatuated with the sink's water knobs. "Nikki."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Oh, right. We hate each other, how stupid of me to forget that." He hisses. 

"I don't hate you." I quietly say, and he lets out a breath. 

"Not yet, at least." He scoffs. 

"Nikki, you fucked up, that doesn't mean I hate you."

"But you're still filing for divorce the second Doc gives you the greenlight, right?" I don't say anything. "That's what I thought." 

He slips past me and leaves me to myself, causing me to close my eyes for a moment, and glance in the mirror before joining everybody else. 

He was right. I didn't hate him, yet.

The next day the guys are due to take the cover photo for their Rollingstone issue with Cal continuing to breathe down everybody's necks. 

"Are you not worried about stomach ulcers?" Cal asks me as I take a sip of Pepsi as we wait for the guys to get dressed for the shoot, and I raise my brows at him. "You have at least three of those a day and it's unhealthy, isn't it?" He adds, trying to sugarcoat it with laughter.

"I drink more water than I do soda...would you rather me be snorting rails of coke or smoking crack or shooting heroin?" I bite and his face falls. "If I want to drink three Pepsi's a day--if I wanna drink 300 Pepsi's a day--I will." Apparently I'm raising my voice, because Doc and Fred are turning their heads in my direction and I can see them slowly making their way to me. 

"Umm…" Cal says nervously as I show no sign of easing up on him. 

"I've earned the right to drink as much fucking Pepsi I want, Cal, sorry it's not as aesthetically pleasing as Jack or vodka, or chain smoking Marlboros, or isn't as romantically tragedized as junk--"

"--Vivian." Doc starts as I continue.

"But I like it, it's not the worst thing I could possibly drink on a daily basis, and if I want to fucking drink it, I will!" 

He looks like a scared weasel, backed into a corner, his eyes wide as he leans away from me slightly. 

I didn't realize how close to him I am right now, I'm practically in his face, bitching him out over a fucking Pepsi. 

"Vivian!" Doc's barking at me.

I'm backing off, with the help of Fred pulling me away from him.

I'm surprised Cal isn't pissing his pants currently, the look on his face says he's heavily considering it. 

"Get him the fuck out of here." I tell Doc, motioning to Cal. 

"Vivia--"

"--No, who the fuck does he think he is?" I argue with Fred when he tries to calm me down.

"What's going on?" Nikki and Tommy ask, coming over here.

"Nothing's going on, alright? Vivian's just--"

"--Vivian's just what?" I snap at Doc. 

"I'm so sorry, she gets neurotic." Doc ignores me as he tries to reassure Cal and I'm slinging my soda out of the bottle, onto him and Cal, as I yell, "oh, I'm fucking neurotic?!" 

"Viv!" Doc scolds me as I throw the bottle down and it breaks. 

"Viv," Tommy starts and I snap around to him. 

"Fucking say it, Tommy. I dare you." I grit out, the look in my eyes telling him, "say anything else, and I'll tell everything about Vanity and Nikki." 

"It was a misunderstanding, alright?" I hear Cal explain to Doc.

"No, no." Fred sighs as he's keeping me from hitting Cal, pulling me away as Cal flinches to get as far from me as possible, looking at me like I'm crazy. 

"Don't leave this out of your fucking article! It might just save the entire damn thing since your fucking journalism sucks more ball-pubes than your wife while you've been out here with your nose up our fucking asses!" I throw at him, and Doc closes his eyes and gives out a deep, disappointed sigh, while Fred's tugging me to the bathroom with Nikki on his heels. 

The second the door is closed, Nikki's snatching me away from Fred, his hand wrapping around my throat--not enough to hurt, but enough to catch my attention--and he pushes me against the wall roughly, seering down at me.

"The fuck is your problem?!" He demands.

"Hey, cut it out!" Fred cuts in, separating us, glaring at Nikki. "Don't fucking grab at her like that, I don't care how fucking pissed you are, Sixx, you got it?" He points at him. "And you," he looks at me now, "I don't know what the fucking hell you are tripping on, or if you're on the rag, or what the hell kind of demon possessed you recently but you're being fucking ridiculous." He snaps at me. 

My eyes are honing in on the rosary around Nikki's neck and I cut my eyes. 

"Is that one of mine?" I ask him and he looks down at it. 

"Maybe."

"For someone who hates God you really don't mind representing him."

"It's called a mockery, Vivian, get over yourself." 

"Give it back." I hold my hand out.

"Fuck off." He replies, going for the bathroom door. 

"I said, 'give it back!'" I scream.

"And I said, 'fuck off!'" He yells back. 

"It's a fucking string of beads with a fucking cross on it!" Fred outbursts louder than either of us and we look at him. "You have like four, Viv, what the fuck does it matter? He's always worn them." He points out next and I huff out a breath. 

I didn't mind when Nikki wore rosaries or crucifixes, I knew he was kind of mocking when he wore them, for the irony of a "devil worshiper" wearing one, but even when we got bad off I didn't mind...in fact as he got worse with his addiction, I hoped the spirituality that they represented would rub off on him and snap him out of his addiction. 

It was stupid and I know better now, but Charlette Kinston was my mother. I did have a small speck of her in me, even when I tried not to.

Later that night--more like the middle of the night--I'm still unable to sleep and end up tossing and turning for hours before getting a bath, hoping the warm water will relax me and calm my racing mind. 

Once I get out and get back into bed, I furrow my brows at the sound of something weird in my room, and I quickly realize what it is. 

The unsettling sound of the door knob twisting and turning throughout the dark hotel room, catches my attention and makes my spine prickle. 

I eye the walkie-talkie on my nightstand, and reach my hand out, turning it on. “2.” I say lowly.

“What, 6 and a half?” Fred’s exhausted voice replies.

“20.” I say, which is code for "where are you?"

“101." He grumbles back, "101" meaning the hotel. "In bed. Like you should be.” He says.

“There’s someone at my door.” I reply.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know what’s why I’m calling you.” 

“You want me to get outta bed just to come see who’s at your door, when you haven’t even checked?”

“...Good point.”

“Just look and see, and then let me know if I need to come, alright?”

“Got it.”

I get out of bed, hearing the door knob still rustling, and I tiptoe to the door, peeping out the peephole, to see Nikki, drunkenly fumbling with his room key, trying to put it in my door.

“It’s nobody, they’re gone. Goodnight.” I say to Fred.

“G’night, Vivian. Get some fucking sleep, you need it.” He adds and I roll my eyes.

“I would if I could.” I mumble, swinging the door open to face Nikki. He doesn’t say anything to me before stepping in, his bottle of wine sloshing onto the carpet.

“This key doesn’t fucking work.” He says, tossing it across the room. 

“Because it’s my room, not yours. Your key works for your room only...across the hall...where you should be.” I cross my arms as he takes another swig of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when some of it trails down his chin. 

“Are you strung out?” I blurt, wanting to know whether I should be ready to fight with Sikki or not.

“No, and I haven’t fucking shot up in a long time.” He points his finger in my face. “Just been chasing the Dragon.”

“I can tell.” I state.

“I’m not high, smartass. I came down an hour ago.” He sits the wine down on my nightstand and I raise my brows. 

There’s a silent pause and I wait awkwardly for him to explain why he’s here, but as soon as I open my mouth to ask him, he’s saying, “you wanna go swimming?” I furrow my brows, confused.

“W-What?” I ask.

“You wanna go swimming?” He repeats, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like hangout or something.”

“Nikki, we’re separated. We don’t ‘hangout or something’ anymore.”

“No, but I’m not thinking straight due to the wine and heroin smoke, and you’re not thinking clearly because you can’t fucking sleep, so let’s just not think straight together--bonding experience--and pretend we’re at least friends.” He vouches, and I raise my brows, thinking about it. 

“The pool’s closed. It’s nearly 4:00am.” I tell him and he scoffs.

“We’re Sixxes, Viv, we can do whatever the hell we want.” He says it as if it’s common sense. “And it’d be nice to practice being around each other without screaming each other’s heads off.”

I give it one last thought, before letting out a sigh.

“Fine.” I relent. 

I was worried his sick plan was to drown me, and finally kill me, but soon after we put swimsuits on, and broke into the pool’s patio, I realized he was genuine about just wanting to “hangout or something” and it made me feel a little better that he missed me as much as I was missing him, even if he played it off smoother than I did at times.

“Is it cold?” I ask him as he wades through the shallow end seamlessly.

“No.” He tells me.

“Are you sure?” I question and he looks at me as I dip my toe in. “Nikki, it’s cold.” “Quit being a pussy and get in the water.” He says. “It’s not that bad, Viv.”

I dip my foot in, up to my ankle, and wrinkle my nose.

“Vivian Estine Sixx, get in the water.” He tries to hold back a laugh, keeping his stern facade. 

“It’s not cold to you because you have more body heat.” I cross my arms. 

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m saying you’re thicker than me.” I correct him.

“You can always take your bikini off to get used to the water quicker.” He says and I raise my brows.

“That makes no sense.” I argue.

“No, but it’d sure make me happy.” He grins and I splash him with water. 

I quickly regret it as he’s getting out of the pool, about to come after me. 

“Nikki, stop!” I whisper yell and he catches up and wraps his arms around me before hurling the both of us into the deep end. 

My body is shocked with the cold water, and the second I get my head above water, I’m gasping and shivering.

The second his head pops up beside me, I’m hitting at him.

“Jackass!” I scold him, and he laughs, brushing his wet hair out of his face. “It’s not funny.” I snap, swimming to the shallow and he follows me, still laughing.

“It’s so fun to piss you off.” He chuckles, running his hand over his face to get the drops of water from his eyelashes and I raise my hand to smack at him again but he raises his brows at me. “Fuck it off, Sixx.” He stops me before I even start.

“You started it, Sixx.” I reply, mimicking his voice. 

“What's new…" He says with a small smirk, thinking about something before the corners of his mouth fall slowly. "...I've done a lot of shit." He starts and I look at him. "Shit I'm not proud of. I don't fucking know when to just do something a little bit. I can't have a bump, I've gotta go through an eight ball as fast as possible. I can't have a drink, I gotta drink the place dry. I can't have a serious girlfriend, I've gotta marry her." He says, and I glance at him and he shakes his head. "I can't just have a one-night stand, I gotta have a fucking affair." He finishes and I lick my lips, keeping my tears back. "This might be fucked up, but I've realized I don't feel like I shouldn't have had anything with her." He says in reference to Vanity and I furrow my brows. "I just feel like we shouldn't have gotten married to begin with."

It hurts like a bitch, but I know it's the truth, because I feel the same way. 

"Me too." I admit and he finally looks at me. 

"I wouldn't change it, though. I wouldn't go back and change it." He clarifies and I smile softly, my tears unable to keep at bay. 

"I wouldn't either." I assure him. 

He stares at me for a moment, looking from my eyes to my lips, standing up straight, before leaning down. 

It's a sweet, simple kiss, that only lasts a moment. 

It took me back to our first kiss. It was odd, because when we first kissed we couldn't stand each other very much, like we couldn't at that moment in our marriage, either. I don't know if that nostalgic feeling crossed the wires in our brains to convince us to chase one last high together, but one thing led to another and got out of hand like it always tended to do with anything a Sixx did.

I grin in the mirror at him as he mercilessly pounds into me to the hilt with each thrust, my right knee hiked up on the bathroom counter, my left foot standing on tip-toes as his right hand is around my throat, his left hand holding at my waist.

My original intent was to get a shower and leave the kiss at the pool, like it was: just a kiss. 

But when we came back to his room where I had left my room key when I went with him so he could get his swimsuit on, and now I'm bent over his sink, tears in my eyes from the pleasuring pressure building up in me, the feeling of my wetness running down my legs at Nikki's doing, is something I've missed.

"Do you really fuck yourself or did you tell me that to piss me off?" He asks me, his dark eyes staring at me, causing me to clench down tighter onto him. 

"I really do." I reply as he holds himself against my cervix, causing me to grab at the counter as the delicious pain causes a high pitched groan to leave my throat. 

"Do you pretend I'm fucking you?" He questions next, deliberately slowing his pace, the friction of his skin inside my slick pussy satiating the hunger I've been feeling the past several days.

"Yes." I whimper out, my eyes rolling back for a moment. 

"Who do you imagine playing with your pretty," his left hand snakes between my legs, calloused, rough, fingers rubbing at my slick flesh, and I back back into him, biting my lip, humming, "perfect clit?" He asks me and I let out a ragged breath. 

"You." I confess, my knuckles turning white with how tightly I'm gripping the side of the counter. 

"Whose cock do you imagine stretching your tight, hot, wet pussy out?" He asks next, and I'm almost considering trying to get away from him because I don't think I can handle this much ecstasy at one time.

"You." I say again, his hand holding my throat harder in his grip, making my breathing a little shallower, but it only makes me more turned on, another wave of my juices coating his length as he starts picking his pace back up, making me cover my mouth with my hand to keep from screaming. 

"Whose name do you scream out in your pillow when you come?" He asks finally, a couple more stray tears rolling down my cheeks as my body is overcome with my orgasm, his hand taking my hand from my mouth as I moan out, loudly, "Nikki", causing him to smile proudly at me in the mirror.

Within a couple more minutes he's finishing in me, and stumbling back a little, a dopey, satisfied smile on his face, while we both come down from our sexbuzz and catch our breath, before going another round.

Nikki's said before, "you know you're addicted when you start lying to yourself about how you're not addicted."

I couldn't agree more.

But the real kicker is waking up to your husband the next morning after having sex, and the both of you pretend like you're strangers, not exchanging a single word before you grab your shit and get the hell out of their as fast as possible before anyone else realizes what happened. 

For the first time in his career, Nikki Sixx treated me like a groupie. 

And you know what? 

It was better that way, because it left no room for, "Oh, well, we had sex which means we made up so we're good now." 

We woke up, didn't look each other in the eye, I got off the floor, put my swimsuit back on so I wouldn't be naked, grabbed my key, and left without a word or a second glance.

There was nothing more to say. 

We'd said "goodbye" to our relationship, the same way we had said "hello" to it in 1981: with sex that meant nothing, but meant everything, all at once.

We're back in L.A. a couple days later, and apparently Karen got some help cleaning mine and Nikki's room up where I completely trashed it, because when we get in the house, all of our photos are back up, his awards are nice and neat on the wall, and our room looks untouched. 

The only give away that something happened is the broken mirror on the ceilings, but he doesn't seem to pay them any mind.

I guess he knew I would inevitably break something. 

I keep my lips sealed tightly together as I hear our bedroom door open, initiating Nikki to walk by with a slight, hungover, stumble, as he makes his way to the kitchen, not saying a word to me, not that I expect him to. 

He's coming into the living room a moment later, my bag of gummy worms I bought yesterday, in hand, and I roll my jaw, not wanting to start a fight over fucking candy…

...But go big, or go the fuck home, right?

"Those are mine." I tell him, pretending to be reading the newspaper I was reading earlier, and he looks me directly in the eye, opening the bag, taking one out, and eating it. 

"My money, my groceries." He states, chewing it, and I exhale.

"I'm gonna go take a walk." Karen comments, sighing as she gets up and walks to the back yard, knowing this is going to get ugly. 

"You're right. It is your money." I tell him, not arguing the valid point. "And if you keep splurging on heroin, you won't have any of it left." I add and he death glares me. 

"I'm not on fucking smack." He argues sternly. 

"You only eat sweets when you're trying to cut back smack." I say and he looks away from me. "At least you're trying to cut it, though." I mumble. 

The bag of candy is suddenly colliding with my leg as he throws it at my lap, spitefully, standing up. 

"Nikki, you can hav--"

"--It's yours. You have it." He hisses, going back to our bedroom, slamming the door loud enough to sound almost like a gunshot, causing me to jump in my seat. 

Nikki: 1, Viv: 1

I decide to shower later on, opting for the guest bathroom to avoid having to see Nikki by walking through our bedroom to get to our bathroom. 

I'm only under the running water before I hear the locked door knob twist, before loud banging on the door. 

"Vivian!" He screams on the other side.

"Yes, dear?!" I call back, annoyed. 

"What the fuck happened to my fucking cars and bikes?!" 

I raise my brows, actually forgetting what I did to his precious vehicles until now. 

"Open the fucking door!" He demands and I roll my eyes. 

"Don't you have better things to do?! Like cleaning the fermented wine--that's been rotting in the hot heat of our garage--from the interior of your cars?!" 

I hear the door knob move some more, and I peek out the curtain to see the knob twist completely, the door opening, and I see the little key in his hand.

We both stare at each other for one good second before I'm screaming as he comes for me, but I'm ducking under his arm and trying not to trip and fall on my wet feet as I scurry out of the room. 

"I'm gonna kill you, Sixx!" He threatens and I panic a little.

"What the hell is going on?!" Karen asks us, keeping Nikki back when she steps out of the kitchen to stop him from chasing after me any further. 

"She completely vandalized my fucking cars and my bikes!" He points at me. 

"I didn't touch the Jeep." I argue and he nearly shoves Karen out of the way but she holds her ground.

"I'm about to call Doc if you two don't calm down." She threatens.

"I'm calling the cops and having her ass locked up." Nikki states. 

"Do it." I boldly snap. 

"No, no, no one's calling the cops." She says, letting out a breath. 

"Do you wanna go see what the fuck she did to my fucking stuff?!" He raises his voice at her, motioning in the direction of the garage. 

"Have you stopped to think that's a result of what you've done to her?" Karen questions him and he rolls his jaw. "I know you're not used to having repercussions and consequences to your actions, but it's a simple theory called 'cause and effect'." She states and he cuts his eyes at her, probably thinking she's full of shit. "The 'scorned wife effect.' You cheat, she destroys your belongings." She finishes, giving him a quick, sarcastic smile, before stepping out of his way. "If I hear either one of you screaming, again, I'm calling Doc."

He pushes past me, and I go back to my shower. 

When I get out, Nikki's nowhere to be seen and the Jeep is gone so I assume he got out of the house for a few minutes, and when I leave our room, going to the living room, I stop in my tracks. 

I see her from the corner of my eye, in the foyer, staring at me, and I turn to fully look at her.

She looks like she's been on a binge the past few days, her brown eyes wild and body slightly jittery, her hands gripping tightly to the sneakers I let her borrow a few months ago. 

All I could do was stare at her, just knowing Nikki was going to have to come home and clean up the mess that he made.

“Vanity.” I acknowledge her, but not for long before I’m walking into the kitchen, hearing an oncoming storm approach as thunder rattles in the distance. 

I grab a Pepsi from the fridge, hearing her slowly creep into the kitchen with me, and my eyes slowly find the knife block only an arms length away from me on the kitchen counter.

Sober Vanity wouldn’t think of hurting a fly. Coked out, crazy, reckless Vanity on the other hand…

“Do you have anything to say to me?” She asks me, shakily.

“Was it good, at least?” I reply, leaning against the counter, staring at her. “When you fucked my husband...knowing he was married...was it good?”

Apparently I’m striking a chord, because she’s got angry tears coming to her eyes, her jaw clenching.

“For someone who’s all about Jesus--”

“--He came to me.” She states, shakily, and I keep my face neutral, although I feel my heart tighten in my chest. “During your time apart last year, he saw me in a Vanity 6 video, and within two hours, I was getting a call from my manager telling me Nikki Sixx wanted a date night.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better about it?” I ask, raising my brows. “‘He came to me, I didn’t go to him’? Because at the end of the day, he’s married, and you knew he was married, and instead of turning him away, you welcomed him with open arms.” I point out. 

“Have you ever thought perhaps I’m your punishment for not appreciating him?” She asks me, a tear breaking past her lashes.

“Excuse me?”

“God punishes his children when they’re not obedient. You made a promise to God to be the best wife to Nikki you could be, and you broke that promise more than enough times.” She adds.

“So you’re saying God used you--having an affair with my husband--to punish me?” I ask her to clarify. She stays silent, looking at me with pure hatred, and I nod a little, calmly.

My glass bottle is hitting her square in the chest before I can even stop myself, a look of utter shock on her face as Pepsi splashes all over her, her hand holding at the inevitable severely bruised skin bound to form from where it made impact.

Technically, since she wanted to get biblical, I was supposed to stone her to death. Being I didn’t have any rocks, and God frowns upon such things, I opted for a one-time thing that still hurt her but not enough to kill her.

I guess Karen heard the Pepsi bottle shatter on the floor, because she's coming in, with a concerned look on her face...before her skin goes sheet white upon seeing Vanity. 

"W-What's going on?" She asks me.

"Vanity was just leaving." I state, rolling my jaw and Vanity looks at me like she's ready to attack.

"I'm not going anywhere until I talk to him." She hisses. 

I hear the front door open, and I smile at her. 

"Now's your chance." I smugly say, stepping past her, my shoes crackling on the glass as I take my sneakers from her hands, going to our room to put them up, saying, "I suggest you go to your room to avoid getting caught in the crossfire", to Karen as I pass by her. 

When I get in our room, that's when shit hits the fan. 

"You'd have to be on horse tranquilizer before marrying me?!" I hear her scream. "Huh?! You break up with me over the phone and then act like I'm crazy and embarrass me?!"

"You are crazy!" Nikki screams back. 

I hear her shriek, before the sound of skin violently smacking against skin, as Vanity barks out, "if you hate me, hit me! If you just fucking hate me so much!" 

I run in to see her hitting at Nikki while he tries to keep his patience.

"Vanity!" I scold, trying to pull her off of him. 

Her left hand is suddenly coming back in a fist, hitting me square in the eye. 

This does it. 

She's knocked to the floor, and her nose is bleeding, Nikki's fist is clenched and smattered with Vanity's blood, and his eyes have a look in them I haven't seen before. 

Vanity's now screaming and crying, kicking and clawing at him as he tries to grab her wrist to pull her up, so he instead grabs her hair and drags her out of the house.

"Nikki!" I protest, catching up to him when he's already got her down our front steps. 

He let's her go and glares at me, before he stomps back in, slamming the door, locking us both outside. 

Vanity's crying, a stream of blood running down her face, my own nose spilling red, but I can't help but crouch beside her and wipe the blood from her face and angle her head back as she sobs. 

"Just pinch your nose." I mumble, taking her hand, that's raw from slapping Nikki, and pinching it at her nose. 

I had never seen Nikki that angry. He later described his altercation with Vanity, as "hitting her like a man." 

I'm not sure if he actually hit her just because she attacked him, because I attacked him multiple times, and he never hit me--the most he did was push me, or grab my wrists or my throat, and even that wasn't enough to really hurt me, just enough to get my attention. 

I think everything was put into that single episode. 

Every time she made his life harder from the moment she stepped in to it, and even his own self-hate for letting things get the way they did between them, all the anger he had felt for himself and her were packed into that single punch. 

And none of it should have ever fucking happened.

[certifiedmoth]

Please Say Yes

Single Dad!Duncan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Duncan wants to propose to Y/N, but his son ruins the surprise.

Notes: Okay, I wrote this really fast and it probably isn’t the best thing ever, but my heart was literally going AWWW the whole time I wrote this, so enjoy!! (single dad!duncan owns me, y’all) gif credit to @spellman

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

___

“Do you understand, bub?”

The four-year-old sitting on Duncan’s lap scrunched up his face playfully while nodding his head enthusiastically.

“We can’t tell mama!”

“Mhm, yes. And why can’t we tell mama?” Duncan bobbed his leg up and down, sending his son into a fit of giggles.

“Because marrying mama is a secret, shhh,” he held his tiny finger up to his mouth and spoke in a whisper, making sure to be as quiet as his little voice would let him.

“Well, asking her to marry daddy is a secret. Mama can’t know at all, it’s a surprise, okay?” He looked his son right in his eyes, hoping he was listening carefully to what he was telling him. “Mama’s going to be really, really happy, as long as it’s a surprise and we don’t tell her before the right time, okay?”

“When’s the right time? Right now?” His son’s big, blue eyes went wide with curiosity.

Duncan let out a soft chuckle, “Well, not right now, bub. Daddy will know the right time; you don’t need to worry about that.” He kissed the top of his son’s hair, holding him close to his chest and savoring this blissful moment. “Just don’t tell mommy.”

~

You and Duncan had been together for three happy years now; something of a record for Mr. Shepherd. He had known from the very first moment he laid his eyes on you that you were meant to be in his life. Stolen glances at work led to steamy makeout sessions in his office which, then, (miraculously, he thought) led to a first date. Duncan had always known how special you were, but it was then, on that first date, as he stared at you smiling from across the table, illuminated by the soft moonlight and laughing at your own joke, that he truly realized that he selfishly wanted you all to himself and that he’d do everything in his power to make that a reality.

A year prior to meeting Y/N, Duncan had experienced one of the worst pains of his life when the mother of his son took off and left. They hadn’t been together long and the pregnancy was a complete surprise, but he had sworn right then and there, as he looked down at the positive pregnancy test, that he would be the best father to his child and the most supportive and loving partner to his girlfriend the world had ever seen. But she had other plans for her life, it seemed; she left shortly after the birth, leaving behind a heartbroken Duncan to solely take care of their child.

Even with the amazing gift that his son was, he truly believed that he would always be alone; destined to share this life with nobody but himself. But then you came along, and flipped a light switch on, suddenly changing his whole outlook on everything and bringing an immense amount of love and light into him and his son’s life that he had never imagined possible. You brightened everything for him.

From a cocky bachelor to a single dad, cherishing domesticity with his son and the love of his life, Duncan often reminisced on how he had gotten here in life. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve a life as amazing and meaningful as this one; it was something he would always cherish. He had his family – His family. His to hold and love. His to keep him warm at night and comfort him when troubled thoughts filled his head. You and his son were all he needed in his life. And all that was left to do was ask you to be his forever.

~

- Two weeks later -

The bubbly boy sitting next to you focused intently on the drawing before him, while he excitedly rambled on and on about the dog he had seen that morning.

“He tried to lick my nose,” he scrunched up his small nose as his addictive giggles filled the air; turning to you, he mimicked the dog with his tongue sticking out and continued laughing without a care in the world. Always such an expressive one, you thought, as you felt the corners of your own mouth lifting while you stared at the lively boy beside you.

“Why don’t you draw the doggie in your picture?” You smiled back at him, moving some of the loose strands of hair out of his face. He had his father’s hair and it soothed you to see so much of Duncan in him.

“No!” he yelled defiantly while a great, big smile appeared on his face as he got up and started dancing (or at least, what a toddler’s definition of dancing was). Okay… you knew what was going on here. He was clearly in one of his “silly moods”; something Duncan liked to call his random outbursts of excitement and giggling. He twirled around the room, singing and laughing as if he were the happiest person alive, before running back to you and plopping down on the ground next to you and his coloring station.

“Somebody’s being silly,” you scrunched up your nose at him, watching him as he dramatically laughed and got back to coloring his picture. “But bub, I have a question,” you frowned, exaggerating your sad tone. “Why no doggie?” you fake cried, hoping to bring even more laughter out of him.

“Because we don’t have one, you silly!!” He yelled, finding the whole situation quite hilarious. “This is our family,” he pointed to the picture. “And we don’t have a doggie, so he can’t go in here.”

“Oh, okay. I understand,” you nodded, enjoying the seriousness and accuracy he put into his art. Peeking over his head to see the masterpiece itself, you found a tall figure that must have been Duncan since a (very large) cellphone was placed in his hand. You silently made a note to tell Duncan about it later; you were sure he would think it was adorable funny. Then, there was your little one right in the middle with a big, gigantic smile plastered on his face; that part seemed quite accurate. Your eyes continued scanning the page, landing on the figure that must have been you, but you were wearing a long, white dress with something covering your face; a very odd sight that caused you to tilt your head in confusion, trying to understand what you were looking at. It was honestly very sweet and endearing, but also suspicious, to say the least.

“Hey bub, why am I wearing that?” you pointed to the cartoon version of yourself.

“Because that’s what people wear when they get married,” he replied softly and casually while focusing on coloring in the grass expertly.

Your heart stopped for a split second as you heard him speak those words so nonchalantly. Had Duncan said something to him? Or perhaps, maybe his preschool teacher had taught them about what a wedding was and he simply was a curious and intrigued child? It must be the latter, you thought. He must have seen a wedding in one of his cartoons, or saw it in a book.

You tried to rid your brain of dangerous, exciting thoughts and calm yourself of the possibility of something bigger taking place right now, but failed horribly after several minutes of a very anxious internal dialogue with yourself.

“Bub, why am I wearing it, though?”  you spoke up suddenly, the confusing thoughts in your head still running rampant as your heartbeat raced.

“Because daddy said he’s gonna marry you, so you have to wear white!! Daddy read this book to me and the girl in it got married and she wore white, so you have to wear white, silly.”

Your eyes went wide and it was as if the air had been knocked right out of your lungs; you were sure you would have looked paralyzed if anyone had walked in at that exact moment. You had thought of the possibility of Duncan proposing one day; you both had talked about it casually before, but you didn’t know that he was actually planning to ask you to be his wife.

You were shocked, confused, beyond ecstatic… You felt so many different things, all completely at the same time, and you didn’t exactly know how to process everything you were feeling; this was foreign territory. Your head swirled and buzzed while the little boy next to you sat unbothered by the bombshell he had just dropped, mindlessly coloring the sky a light blue color on the paper in font of him.

“When did daddy say all of this?”

His little head turned to you, about to answer your question with an excited smile on his face, when he suddenly remembered the day his dad had sat him on his lap and told him his great, big secret plan. But he had told him not to tell you. That’s what he had said: To not tell mama. That only daddy could tell her and only when it was the right time. This was not the right time. And daddy wasn’t even here. Slowly, his smile turned to a frown and glossy tears began to prick the corners of his bright blue eyes.

“Oh no, baby, what’s going on?” Your voice was laced with concern as you watched his face contort with sadness. In this moment, you forgot about the picture. You forgot about what he was about to say. You forgot about any future proposal. You only cared about why your sweet boy had become so incredibly distraught. His cheeks grew warm and he suddenly started wailing as tears began to flow freely down his face, his poor lungs struggling to draw in air from crying so hard.

The door to the home office slammed open and Duncan came running out, his eyes wide with worry and concern as he noticed you in the middle of the floor, cradling his little boy. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just started crying,” your looked up at Duncan hopelessly while you held your little one to your chest, rocking him back and forth and trying your best to comfort him and ease him of whatever pain he was feeling. It was just as painful for you as it was for Duncan to see him so uncontrollably distraught. You’d do anything to make him feel better, no matter the cost. And Duncan was right there with you; he’d do anything to protect his son from this world. Which is why it was so hard to see him like this right now. A very worried Duncan kneeled next to you and started gently stroking his son’s back in a calm and soothing manner.

“Bub, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Duncan whispered in his ear, hoping to god something wasn’t causing him physical pain.

Your little one hesitantly lifted his head from your chest and looked up at his dad with tears running down his red face, trying to speak but all that came out were more choked sobs. “I- I ruined the surprise,” you almost didn’t catch his timid voice amidst the strangled sobs. Duncan’s face twisted in confusion, not sure what his poor child was talking about.

“Bub, what surprise?” Duncan asked softly while continuing to rub his son’s back. You held him in your arms, swaying him back and forth and he finally started to calm down a bit. He sniffled and played with your hair, focusing on trying to tell his dad what he meant.

“Dada, I said you were gonna marry mama,” he let out another small sob, feeling overwhelmed with the whole situation. He was afraid Duncan would be mad at him and that he’d be in trouble for telling you, but most of all, he was just unbearably sad for letting down his dad.

Duncan’s breath hitched in his throat as he heard his son’s confession; his eyes instantly flickered to yours, which were already staring at him, wide and bright with curious wonder. There was so much vulnerability in his blue eyes; you’d never seen him like that before. It was almost startling to look at the love of your life and see a different side to him, one you’d never caught a glimpse of before. He had never felt so exposed and caught off guard in all his life; tears had started to prick the corners of his own eyes. It was beautiful and painful to watch, you thought.

This wasn’t how he had planned it. This wasn’t at all how he had planned it. He was going to wait for the perfect moment... The perfect dinner with a perfect bottle of champagne, under the same moonlight he had fallen in love with you, only to then, get down on one knee, take your hand in his, and ask you to be his and only his forever. Truth be told, that moment had come and gone. Or, at least half of it. He had taken you out to dinner the week before, but he had never gotten down on one knee and he had never asked you that one question that had been dancing across his mind every second of every day since he had finally decided to propose. Deep down, he was terrified. Terrified that you would reject him and he’d lose you forever. A part of him still felt he didn’t deserve you and that one day, you’d realize it.

But now, everything was out in the open. His wants, his feelings, his plans for the future: All of it. He was exposed. Duncan had no wall to hide behind now; his son had torn it down for him.

“Baby, there’s no need to cry. You didn’t ruin anything,” your soft voice spoke to the little boy cradled in your arms, snapping Duncan out of his anxious thoughts. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy isn’t upset with you and mommy isn’t either. We love you so, so, so very much, okay?” You pulled back to look him in his tear-filled eyes. “It’s okay, my love,” you gave him a genuine smile, rubbing his back with small circles.

He was comforted by your words and nestled his head against your neck, feeling the worry start to leave his tiny body. Only small sniffles could be heard now as his eyes started to get heavy with sleep. You continued gently stroking his back as you helped to softly lull him to sleep.

“Plus, mommy wants to marry daddy, too.”

Duncan’s head snapped up, locking his wide eyes with yours as an incredulous look overcame his features. Had he heard you correctly? Had you really meant what you had just whispered? He’d never felt his heart beat this fast in all his life; it felt as though it was about to explode right out of his chest.

“She does?” Duncan spoke quietly and carefully, as you both realized the sweet boy in your arms was now fast asleep from wearing himself out so suddenly with his tears.

You nodded your head, looking at him with every single ounce of love and adoration you had felt for him the past three years of your beautiful relationship. He inched his way closer to you, closing the distance between yourselves while being careful not to wake his son.

He leaned in to place a feather light kiss to your lips, “You know, I had something planned…”

“Is that so?” you smiled against his lips, the small burn of his stubble rubbing against your skin and the warm scent of his cologne mixing to remind you of home.

“Mhm, but I guess this will have to do,” his voice was soft and playful as he reluctantly pulled away from you, reached into his pocket and retrieved a small plush box. You let out a sudden breath, you hadn’t known you’d been holding in, and felt tears begin to spill over your cheeks.

Duncan adjusted himself so he was on one knee and slowly opened the small box in his hands, revealing the most dazzling diamond ring you had ever seen; he had picked it because the sparkle it gave off was reminiscent of your beauty in the moonlight. He looked at you adoringly through crystal, blue eyes, letting a content sigh fall from his lips as he stared at his entire world right in front of him.

“I am so completely and insanely in love with you, Y/N,” he smiled softly as he whispered to you. “I cherish this life we’ve built together, and I can never thank you enough for being there for our son. You’re the best mother this world has ever had and the best partner I could ever ask for. Some days I wake up and I still can’t believe that you’re in my life,” he laughed lightly as his voice began to break; his own tears threatening to spill over now. “You came into my life and made every aspect of it better and, now, I only ask that you allow me the opportunity to do the same for you.”

You held your hand over your mouth to stifle your cries as you peered, through teary eyes, at the love of your life.

With one last exhale and smile, Duncan looked up at you and whispered, “Will you marry me?”

You let out a squeaking noise and nodded frantically while tears fell down your cheeks. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!” you tried your best to keep your voice quiet, so as not to disturb the sleeping child in your arms, but you were too overcome with excitement and love for this man.

Duncan’s face lit up and he gave you the brightest smile you had ever seen as he quickly enveloped you in his arms, placing gentle kisses to your face. You could feel his own tears on his cheeks now as he kissed you tenderly. You’d never felt so happy in all your life. This truly was all you needed: Duncan and your son. Your family.

He placed one last passionate kiss to your lips, deepening it while your hand ran through his soft hair. Reluctantly, he pulled away once again, brushing his lips against yours. “What do you say we put little bub down for his nap and then we go and celebrate in our own special way?”

You smiled against his lips, wanting nothing more than to show him just how much love you had for him. “Sounds good to me,” you whispered, placing one more kiss to his lips before feeling Duncan’s hand hold onto yours gently, pulling you up and leading you to the beginning of a new life.

Taglist: @xavierplympton, @lathraios, @no-need-for-rules, @ladynuwanda, @katiekitty261, @sojournmichael, @rosegoldrichie, @langdonsdemon, @hecohansen31, @blakewaterxx, @wroteclassicaly, @michaelsapostle, @kleineshaschen, @whydonthumansfly, @solitalangdon, @fckinsupreme, @olobersy, @femaleantichrist, @peachesandfern, @freak-war-hour, @tigers-pat, @gremlinkween, @donutt-fuck-with-me, @avesxtxnas, @lonely-cloud, @angelbabyscum, @langdondelrey

[doof-doofblog]

"Will You Marry Me?"

Tuesday 8th December 2020

Hello again folks! I'm back with another blog post following this week's drama. I wanted to do a blog yesterday but with the news of Dame Barbara Windsor's passing, it felt only right that I wrote a blog about her instead. However, I'm now back to review on this weeks episodes, there is so much to talk about.

There seemed to be a lot happening, the police are still searching high and low for Ian's attacker. There are about 4 or 5 main things I want to mention. Firstly, Tina - After not being able to sleep the night before, her day only gets worse by getting arrested for suspicion of attempted murder. As she's being arrested, she calls out her innocence to Shirley and Kathy. As being put into the police car, Kathy sees from across the Square and runs over to question why she did it, as she thought they were friends, why would Tina attempt to ruin their friendship by attacking her son?! While she's at the police station giving her statement, she informs them that she and Ian did have an altercation, but it was at the Beale household and not the pub. But the interesting thing she then happens to mention, that possibly the only person who would be able to give her alibi would be a pizza boy. She explains that when she returned to Gray's house, she was in the house alone, but a pizza boy called but he was delivering to the wrong house. If Tina or the police would be able to find this unknown pizza boy, that would potentially put a stop to her being a suspect. Personally, I don't think Tina was Ian's attacker, as a viewer I completely believe her story, it sounds reasonable, I believe she was no where near the Vic, yes she and Ian did have a row and a bit of punch up at the house, but Ian was alive and breathing when she left the household. I feel I can simply scratch Tina off the suspect list, it wasn't her.

The second thing I'd like to mention is Stuart. On the Square, he watches as Tina is arrested, but you can clearly see the fear in his eyes. I do feel he's hiding something, but what? What was he burning at the allotment? Blood-stained clothing maybe?! We know since Ian's attack, Rainie has gone missing. Stuart is completely worried sick about his wife. Where on Earth could she have gone? Stuart almost desperately seeking help, approaches Callum and informs him that he's going out of his mind as he can't get in touch with his wife. I feel for Stuart and Rainie, right now. I really do. Do I think that he or Rainie attacked Ian? Honestly, I do think Rainie is a person of interest - as the way she must be feeling, emotionally and mentally - initially, blaming Ian for ruining their chances of having a baby. She's basically grieving for the child that she may never have, and grief makes people do things without thinking. What if that grief turned to anger and she felt she just had to lash out to that one person who lost her the one thing she's always longed for. It's most definitely a motive. We saw her walking speedily through the Square on the night of the attack, what if she had left the Vic and was briskly walking to make her escape - what if she's gone on the run. She has gone missing and it would make sense, I think. Until we know where Rainie disappeared to, I feel she could be the one who attacked Ian.

Thirdly, after Stuart approaches Callum for asking help of finding his wife, interestingly he drops the bomb that Ben could've been the who attacked Ian. Of course, Callum is quick to defend his boyfriend. But I guess you could say that Stuart is doing the same thing for Rainie, they both want their partners to be the innocent party. Later on in the episode, it's clear that what Stuart said to Callum is playing on his mind. Ben is at home when Callum comes home and instantly he wants to know why Ben has been avoiding him over the past 2 days. Since Ian's attack, Callum informs Ben that he hasn't responded to any of his calls or texts and he keeps leaving the room when Callum walks in. Ben claims that he's had a lot on his mind as his brother has just been attacked, which is understandable. But deep down, Callum can't help but wonder whether his boyfriend had something to do with it, he asks him out straight. But Ben denies his involvement in the attack, he acknowledges that he was raging with his brother after finding out that he was the one who grassed him up to the police, he admits he wanted to hurt his brother, but never acted upon it. But however we did see Ben leaving the pub on the night in question, so the big question is - What was he doing there? Maybe having a confrontation with Ian? I do think that Ben could also be a suspect, until we know for sure what he was doing in the pub. I think he could also be the one who attacked Ian. Interestingly, before Callum even speaks to Stuart or Ben, his first visit is to question the Panesar family. He appears to be asking Suki of her movements of the night of Ian's attack. She informs Callum that she was at Ruby's club the whole night, but when she left and walked past the pub, she reveals she saw nothing and no one. However, was she at the pub whilst Kheerat went to the pub and help his Mum plan an attack on Ian? Who knows? Suki and Kheerat are both looking pretty shifty, even if he states that he was at a business meeting. I'm unsure about these two, what about you guys? Do you have an opinion on Suki and Kheerat?!

Fourth, the return of Kat and Kush. After a couple of days on the run, they return to the Square to grab a few belongings and finally get their money they're owed from Phil. Whilst Kat goes off to visit Phil, Kush looks after the children. Phil is alone in the house, it looks as if he's getting himself ready to go court regarding his divorce with Sharon. He's stunned to see Kat walk into his house, regardless of there being police dotted about the Square. Kat demands that enough is enough and he pays them their share of the money, Phil finally sees to reason and hands over a wad of cash from his safe, it's enough to get them away from the Square and start a new life. Meanwhile, back at the Slater household, Kush is looking after the children, after catching them unwrapping Arthur's birthday presents, he decides to give Tommy a very important job. Unfortunately we're not too sure what that job may be? Look after everybody maybe? As later on in the episode, we see Kush is hovering around the police station, as discreetly as possible. From a distance he sees Jack and calls him over, Jack is surprised to see him. Kush asks if he voluntarily gives himself up to the police, could there be a chance that he'll be released on bail? His only concern is being able to see his son, Arthur for his birthday and for Christmas. Jack urges Kush to do the right thing, and if he gives himself up, they might be able to sort something out for him. I'm surprised that Kush actually chose to go to the police, this may ruin Kat's plan of starting a new life together with the children in France. She's going to be devastated when she finds out what Kush has done! I do hope that he will be let off on bail and will be able to see Arthur.

Finally, during the police search, Bobby and Peter are at home. Bobby seems to be reliving the moment he found the blood on the living room floor, he feels as if he's slowly going back to the night Lucy passed away. He explains to his brother that he can't bare going back to the dark place he once was. Peter tries his absolute best to console his young brother, but suddenly the police turn up at the household, informing them and Kathy that they want to search the house, as due to Tina's statement, there could be traces of blood at the house. The brothers look surprised, however with Bobby scrubbing the blood he found, could he done for tampering with evidence? Or because he cleaned the blood, could the police look to him and question why he was so frantic to get rid of his Father's blood? Whilst all this is happening at home, Ian is lying in his hospital bed with Sharon sat by his side. He's convinced himself that due to the pain he's feeling, this will be the end for him, he claims he has nothing now his sons hate him. Sharon tries her absolute best to console her friend and inform him that what he's saying is absolute nonsense. She tells him that the boys do love him and would be lost without their Dad, but Ian can't seem to believe the words she's saying. As she leaves him to get some rest, Ash approaches Ian and he wants to know exactly what's happening to him, he wants to know whether he'll pull through or not - it's then that Ash informs him that CT scan showed that he has a bleed on the brain, which will be the cause of his head pains. However, they do need to do some more tests to see whether there's any lasting damage. This seems to really distraught Ian, he knows that it's not looking good. When Sharon finally returns, he informs her that he wants to make sure that she's looked after and provided for, he speaks about their friendship they've had through-out the years and how they've always been there for each other. Sharon states that her friend is talking stupid but he seems completely and utterly convinced that this will be the end for him. He then informs her that deep down, he has always loved her, regardless of her not feeling the same way about him. He states that he's going to give her the full ownership of the Vic and - here's the big bombshell, he wants to make sure that she and Albie are looked after and provided for, with that he asks the big question and asks for her hand in marriage!

I am a little surprised, but I can kind of understand why he'd ask her that. BUT can I just mention, is he allowed to marry Sharon? Did he ever properly divorce Jane? I simply cannot remember, can you guys?! Even though Jane hasn't been in the soap for a couple of years now, but did she and Ian ever have a divorce? Maybe it was done off-screen or something?! Something is telling me that Sharon is just as surprised as us. I'm really intrigued to find out what happens next! There appears to be so many twists and turns in this current storyline, some people are acting shifty and yet some are claiming their innocence. What do you guys think? Do you have a hunch as to who Ian's attacker could be? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Please feel free to leave me a comment or a message, leaving your thoughts and opinions, I'll always write back! Thanks again everyone! xXx

[devourer--of--books]

if you’re not the bride (deluxe version)

So you may be wondering why is it you're seeing this. Hello, it is I again. If you're here, maybe you're familiar with the original "if you're not the bride', which I posted about three years ago. In case you're not, then, hello, welcome, when I was 15 I wrote a story under this same title. Then forgot all about it. But every so often someone would come across this story and I was reminded of its existence. Then, back in september 2019, I decided to read it again, correct some grammar and call it a day, you know, just so I could rest assured I hadn't written something horrible. Turns out, it got a bit out of hand and I decided to rewrite the whole thing. However, due to the fact that college is the worst, I never finished it and, well, forgot about it, again. Now, as quarantine came around, I found my rewrite from 6 months ago and since I got the time why not, right? This is now more than double the size of the original and has a lot more of backstory than intended. You can still find the original with some corrections here on AO3 and , and the cursed unedited version somewhere on tumblr for the sake of nostalgia. Warnings: There's cursing, some drinking and good old make outs. July 2020 edit: here I am, re-edting this thing again. This all said, welcome folks, to the deluxe version:

"You're going to what?!" Agatha raised her voice, tightly holding her phone to her ear. Surely, she must have heard Sophie wrong. Her friend did have a reputation for being over the top, but this was beyond absurd.

When people said that being friends with Sophie was…an exotic experience, they weren't completely wrong, per say. Being friends with Sophie could be a lot like being friends with a hungry animal. She was ruthless, dangerous and not trustworthy about 60% of the time. Sophie would do most anything to get whatever she wanted and absolutely would step over you in the process (sometimes for no reason other than because it amused her to do so). It wasn't personal, mostly. It was simply her nature.

For her, there were two kinds of people: her friends and her enemies. It was very easy to go from one category to another and anything in between simply couldn't be processed by her brain.

Sophie was a difficult person.

Agatha could tell you in more detail, she would know. Being Sophie's best friend wasn't exactly a dream come true. It had its perks of course, and when all was said and done, Sophie was an okay-ish person and a mostly good friend, but you gotta give it up to Agatha; it was no task for the weak-hearted.

They had been friends since kindergarten and were as different from one another as it gets. Had they met later in life, Agatha is certain they would've never become friends at all. Sophie was a loud, gorgeous (and kinda mean) blonde bombshell and Agatha was a grumpy, average-looking mostly nice girl (she wouldn't call herself kind, really, her niceness was more of a subproduct of her aloofness than anything else). The two of them disagreed in most anything and had not that much in common. Yet, it somehow worked. They argued a lot, as in, a lot, but it was always fixed within a weeks' time, in a coffee shop, over a good old vanilla latte and some black tea.

An odd pair, to say the least.

Which was fine by them. Sophie… was a work in progress. She was trying.

Nevertheless, every once in a while, something like this would happen. Because Sophie was still Sophie and her head worked in mysterious ways.

"I'm getting married, Aggie," Agatha could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes on the other side of the device, "people do that all the time. It's, like, a thing."

"Sophie, you're not even done with college yet! Getting married with what money? As far as I know, your modeling barely pays your rent and don't even get me started on your student loan and credit card debt! And getting married to whom? Last time I checked, you weren't even going out with anyone!" She tried to cool her head, catching her breath while trying to recall any possible groom Sophie could have taken. "Unless… Are you marring Hort?"

A disgusted groan was heard.

"Ew, no. Not Hort, for God's sake. What do you think I am? Desperate?"

A bit, but Agatha didn't dare say it out loud.

Hort was a guy who lived at the apartment just below Sophie's, in a tiny complex downtown. They've known each other for quite a long time now. It was practically common knowledge that Hort acquired the biggest crush on her the moment he first laid eyes on her. It was all the old ladies from 1A and 2C ever talked about.

Over the years, he became quite easy on the eyes, even Sophie had to admit it. No longer the scrawny awkward kid that helped Agatha drag Sophie's couch upstairs (while Sophie flirted with the trucker, trying to get free shipping for her mattress, which, by the way, she got), but a fully formed man, completely jacked, and with a growing bank account to match, due to his fitness-program-thingy taking off. Agatha didn't really know the details of that, but she knew it was going well, mostly because Sophie told her so.

Anyway, he claimed to not want anything to do with her friend nowdays.

Yeah, right.

Agatha felt bad for him, she really did.

Loving Sophie was like loving a hurricane. Violent, brutal and downright painful.

She had initially assumed it would go away with time, that he would eventually see that they weren't compatible and let it go.

However, it was a bit more complicated than that, as most things in life tend to be.

She knew he and Sophie had hooked up, in fact, she knew that they did so often. Sophie hadn't told her, but she didn't need to. Agatha knew. The aftermath was never good, and for the sake of keeping things short and lighthearted, Agatha shall spare you the angst and just say that, as mentioned above, Sophie was fantastic at getting whatever she wanted and disregarding other people's feelings.

Honestly, Hort could say he wasn't into Sophie all he liked. At the end of the day, he was still living at that shitty apartment (even though he could probably have moved somewhere better a long time ago), hadn't seriously dated anyone since meeting her and was responsible for at least half of Sophie's modeling gigs, which were her friend's main source of income. Agatha had warned him, several times, mind you, but all you can do is all you can do. The heart wants what it wants, she presumes.

"If not Hort, who then?"

"Oh, you don't know him yet," She could practically see Sophie twirling a golden lock on her fingers, a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Clearly," Agatha rolled her eyes and put her phone on speaker to be able to look around for her keys more comfortably. Reaper, her cat, had a bad habit of hiding them in the weirdest places. "Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone last time we went out for coffee?"

"Because I wasn't seeing anyone at the time," the blonde-haired woman sounded a bit annoyed, seemingly not understanding why Agatha was having such a hard time believing her ludicrous story.

"Sophie."

"Yes, Aggie?"

"That was literally three weeks ago."

"It's true love, Agatha. I can feel it. This is my real-life fairytale. I found the perfect guy for me. He's so different from anyone I've ever met…" Agatha tuned her out, finally realizing what was going on.

For Sophie, everyone she dates is her one true love. She was intense like that. There were lots of "perfect guys" on the list, too many, and eventually Agatha grew tired of counting them. Neither did she remember their names. Why bother, when Sophie would grow tired of them soon enough?

Her friend's drug of choice just so happened to be was serial dating with lots of love-bombing on the side.

Parents got divorced? Look at this cute basketball player that will probably cheat on me.

Bad day at a shoot? Oh, that barista is so sexy, bet he'll hook up with me anyway.

I have no idea where my career is going and hate my major? Why not call Hort up, right?

But getting actually married? That's new.

Agatha sighed, picking up her keys from the pot of her balcony plant. Time to be the be the grown-up. Again.

"Sophie, are you 100% sure you want to get married to this guy? Can't you wait a few months at least? How about you guys move in with each other first?" If Sophie doesn't tire of him, that would terrify the poor thing into ending this madness. Again, Agatha would know. She had to stay at Sophie's for a few weeks once, back when she had split with a partner whom she had been living with; it was hell on earth.

"Weren't you hearing, Aggie? We. Are. Soulmates. He is very serious about me. He's so in love with me, he would never hurt me, and I need to tie him down before he runs away. Isn't this what people always say?" Her friend's voice was getting snappy. Oh, no, not good.

"Sophie, I just think you should be more careful and reasonable…" Agatha tried to pacify, tiredly.

Did she not own any clean jeans? Damn. Why does she keep forgetting to do her laundry? The blue skirt she wore to work would have to do.

"It's always reason, with you, Agatha! You never listen to your heart! I thought you would be happy for me! You're always telling me just how much potential I have! He brings out the best in me! What do you even know about relationships anyway, you always end up ru-"

"SOPHIE!" She interrupted, before her friend could say something she'd regret and crush whatever good mood was left in Agatha's body. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Tell me about this guy…?"

Fuck it, she decided. Agatha was in currently in a hurry and this could be solved later. She wasn't going to be able to win Sophie over the phone. Maybe she could sit her down on sunday, have one long talk about red flags in relationships, again. Convince her to stay engaged for a bit longer, just enough for her to get bored and then call it all off as soon as the new whats-his-face walks through the door.

Now was not the moment to be arguing, especially if she wanted to be on time.

"…And he's so great and wonderful, he's tall, has these hypnotizing eyes, they're so intense, it's like they suck you in, Aggie! His hair is just wow, it's a very uncommon shade of blonde, the undertone is beautiful, so expensive-looking... but it's natural, he swears. And his skin is so soft, you wouldn't believe, his name is…"

Agatha tried to listen. She really did. However, all she could hear was "bla, bla, bla, perfect, bla, bla, bla, handsome". Lord, not this again. Did it get worse every time...?

The brunette stuffed her wallet in a handbag, grappling to close it (it had been a present from Sophie, and as such, probably hardwired to annoy her and look good at the same time), and gave herself a look over in the mirror, before frowning. Oh, time for her limited make-up skills to be of use.

Damn, she looked rough. She left in hurry that morning, so her bare face stared back at her in its full sleepless-racoon glory.

It has been a long week of nothing but late nights trying to get her workload done. She couldn't believe she was saying this, but she missed college. At least back then she didn't have to worry about rent. Oh, to be young, broke, dead-inside and living on a dorm. The wonders, truly.

Concealer, blush, eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. There. Done.

Kinda?

"… So, are you up to it?"

What.

"… Hm, sure?" She responded, still trying to evaluate if her liner was acceptably symmetrical. It wasn't. It never was, but it wasn't always this bad. Really, not her best work. Maybe she could fix it, somehow?

"That's amazing, you'll look so pretty, the dress I picked is perfect for your undertone, you'll be the best maid-of-honor ever!"

Oh, god, no. No way. What has she done?

Should she do that red-flag-talk now?

"How… nice of you to say that," Agatha replied, barely contained horror coming across in her tone. Not that Sophie paid her any attention.

"I set the date for the engagement brunch-party for tomorrow around 10am. At the terrace. And speaking of dates, I must introduce you to someone, he's great, Aggie, and I think you guys could…"

No. No. No. Agatha is drawing the line here.

"Oh really, cool, hey I have to go, callyoulaterbye-"

Agatha throws her phone on the bed, groaning loudly. Reaper stirs in her pillow, but is otherwise unbothered by the conversation, unlike his owner.

Of all things… getting married. Agatha was now her bridesmaid. Engagement brunch…?

Sophie, why. Why?

Agatha was now an accomplice of this crime against good judgement, wasn't she? Should she call Sophie again…?

Ugh, you know what? She'll sort this out this later. Sophie could wait a few hours, Agatha earned this night out.

…This totally is going to come back to bite her, isn't it?

Well, too late, Agatha's leaving. Because, unlike Sophie, who clearly had too much free time in her hands, Agatha had things to do and couldn't just waste her precious friday nights on this kind of bullshit.

.

.

.

"You're late," is the first thing Hester says to Agatha, not even lifting her gaze from her phone as she approaches their table.

It was the usual one, right by the wall, perfectly placed so it was far enough from the dance floor but close enough to the bar, so it was still socially acceptable to be seated but not too "loser-zoned", in Hester's own words.

Hester herself looked the same as always. Dressed head-to-toe in black and showing off an impressive number of tattoos per square inch of skin, she made quite the intimidating sight. The only tip to her actual day job was the discarded white blazer and sleek suitcase lying on a chair beside her. Back in school, Agatha used to find it hard to picture Hester being anything but a witchy-biker or a badass-tattoo-artist, but she supposed scary-lawyer suited her friend just fine.

"Nice to see you too, Hester. I've been well, thanks for asking," Agatha sits down, annoyed. She knows she's late. She missed the "early-comers, free entrance" time, and damn if the isn't pissed that she's now 15 bucks broker then she already was. "Anadil, Dot, it's great to see you guys too"

Both women acknowledge her presence quietly: Anadil nods,before getting up from her spot and leaving to god-wishes-he-knew-where and Dot hugs her briefly, headed to the bar.

Hester rolls her eyes and repeats herself.

"You're late."

"Shut up, I'm here, aren't I?!" Agatha snaps, before she bit her lip and propped her elbows onto the table, head in her hands.

The gesture makes Hester lift her eyes from the phone, finally.

"Well, someone's had a bad day."

"Look, I'm sorry. It's been one looong horrid day. Have you ordered any drinks? Or are we going for beer tonight?" Agatha asks, going over the familiar menu, even though she has every beverage price there already memorized.

"Okay, slow down," Hester yanks the menu out of her hands. "Have you eaten? I'm not going to take care of you if you didn't."

Yes, she would, but that's not relevant.

"Yes, mom," Agatha rolled her eyes. "I'm tired, tomorrow is gonna suck, let's drink."

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow's saturday, loser, sleep to your hearts content," Hester reminds her, but at seeing Agatha stare back at her in misery it occurred to her what, or rather, who, this was about.

"Blondie has been texting me non-stop about brunch. At 10. What's up with that?" She lifts a brow, her judging eyes scanning Agatha's expression. Agatha in turn, lets her elbows drop and bangs her head onto the table, harder than originally planned, a whimper leaving her lips.

Hester sighs. She loves Agatha to the death, but when it comes to Sophie, she has always been way too forgiving. Agatha was not Sophie's mother, she shouldn't have to look out for her and bend over backyards to help her. Personally, Hester and Sophie didn't get along very well.

Which lead to: Sophie never invited Hester anywhere, unless she wanted to rub something in Hester's face.

"...Apparently, she's getting married in, like, two weeks?" Hester's brows lift in surprise. "...To some guy I don't know?" Higher. "...And I'm a bridesmaid?" Almost disappearing into her hairline by now.

Awkward pause.

"Okay," Hester breathes in and out, "what the actual hell?"

"My words exactly."

"She'll be over it in a week," the tattooed woman deadpans.

"No doubt," the other replies.

Three more seconds go by, and it's far too long for Agatha, whose leg starts to twitch under the table.

"You're doing it again," she states.

"Doing what?" Hester asks, crossing her arms, lying back at her chair.

"That thing."

"What thing?"

"You know," Agatha vaguely gestures at Hester's face, "that thing your eyebrows do when you're being judgy."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"I so need a drink right now," she tells her before leaving the table.

.

.

.

At the bar counter, Agatha sits down on a stool and waits for the bartender, Chaddick, to show up, ignoring Hester's glare on her back.

Now for some unnecessary backstory, in case you're interested: Agatha and Chaddick had a bit of history (read, beef) long before this club, The Woods, opened and even before Agatha and Hester started to have their monthly night-out there.

Chaddick was a jock whom Agatha went to school with, all the way from sixth grade to senior year of high school. To be brief, he was the worst ™. He made fun of her, tormented her days, spread rumors about her (including one that she was witch, which lasted for years) and even stole her stuff once. In senior year, he had even developed this habit of showing up with his friends at the tea place her mother owned, where she had worked a few shifts from time to time, ordering not a single drop of fucking tea, being loud and annoying for hours and only leaving when closing hour neared.

Agatha was sure that if you googled 'jackass', his picture would turn up. He'd been so full of himself, all because he had some cash, was athletic and was "cute", you know, in that white-upper-middle-class-way that most school-aged popular boys tended to be. But then, flash-forward: Chaddick now worked wednesday to saturday as a bartender at Agatha's favorite club. Apparently, his parents went bankrupt or something during college. Agatha felt kinda bad for him, but not really? She supposed he wasn't as terrible of a human being nowadays, but she was not about to go ahead and call him her friend, no matter how many times she had to make small talk with him for the sake of bar etiquette.

"So what's it gonna be today?" The bartender asked, not quite politely, but she lets it slide, for she could tell he was as thrilled about this conversation as her.

Chaddick, too, looks the same, to no one's surprise. He looked more tired, but still douchey enough that Agatha didn't feel too horrible of a person for not feeling as sorry for him as she probably should.

"Surprise me. I've had a very bad day."

"Is Sophie actually up to something then?" He asks while grabbing some bottles, "I hear there's going to be a brunch-party tomorrow…?"

"Who told you? Reena?" Chaddick dismisses the name casually with his hand. "Gisele?" 'no', he denies with his head. "Beatrix then?" he nods, uncharacteristically shy, and Agatha nearly felt pleased, before she remembered what they were talking about before. "Bingo. But yes, there's a brunch-party tomorrow. An engagement brunch-party."

He hands her a cup, wide-eyed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Engagement? Do I even wanna know w-"

"You don't. Trust me on this," Agatha cuts him off, taking a sip of the beverage. She doesn't recognize its taste, which makes her wary. She knows her alchool. "What did you even put here?"

"It's a secret, tonight's special," he winked mockingly, before hurrying on to the next client.

Agatha briefly wonders if she should drink the rest of it, eyeing the cup curiously. It didn't smell bad and she kind of liked the taste. Should she trust Chaddick? Probably not. Then again, Agatha needed a drink tonight.

It would be fine. She is no lightweight, Hester is here, tomorrow's saturday. Right?

Another thing that would probably bite her later. So, she braces herself and downs the cup in a few large sips, heading back to her table.

Bring it on.

.

.

.

Two other cups of who-knows-what and an hour later, Agatha was back at the bar, now sitting in different stool, as far from Chaddick as she possibly could be, when a body drops on the sit next to her.

It's Dot, giggling loudly like a high school girl on heavy drugs.

The giggling persists for quite some time.

... It's kinda creeping Agatha out.

"Penny for your thoughts…?" She tries, taking a sip of her drink.

No response.

Giggle.

More silence.

"Hm, Dot?"

She continues to stare at her joyfully, still smiling like a madwoman.

Agatha found Dot adorable and friendly, which was a surprise since she was one of Hester's best friends. The two of them weren't really that close themselves, but she did enjoy her company. Being friends with Dot was as easy as it was harmless.

"Don't look, but there's a really hot guy right by the pool table who hasn't been able to take his eyes off you for the last fifteen minutes."

Agatha's eyebrows shot up in Hester-like fashion and she fights the instinct to turn around and check if Dot isn't messing with her.

She knows she is not the most attractive female in the room. Agatha tends to think of herself as more of an acquired taste, truly. Yet, every blue moon someone would come over to try their luck with her. Sometimes they're cute, sometimes they're funny and sometimes they're just desperate. So far, "hot guys" haven't really been her target demographic.

"So what? What's the big deal?" She tries to keep her nerves out of her voice, mostly succeeding, but Dot's smile only grew more and more mischievous, as if seeing right through her.

"Turn around. I dare you not to remember him. Pretty sure Sophie told you about how she met him again a few weeks ago, at that event she went to? The one sponsored by Camelot International?"

…Okay, so Agatha might be a bit of a bad friend. She didn't listen to 90% of Sophie's rants about guys or modeling events, so most likely she had told her about him as Agatha did something else. Something important, really.

…Like playing games on her tablet.

She worked a lot, okay? Can't have people hogging all her free time. Even if it was Sophie. Her best friend.

Shit.

Agatha's face must have betrayed her because Dot laughed even louder than before.

"You seriously don't?" she managed to ask between giggles, as Agatha blushed, frowning.

"I should?"

"Most likely yes. Sometimes you're way too funny, you know?" Her smile was dangerous. Stop smiling at Agatha like that, woman.

It was at times like this she could see why Hester and Dot were such good friends.

"Thanks, I think?" Agatha eyes her companion carefully "How hot is this guy any…"

"Hot enough for you to talk to me, I hope," a male voice announced behind her, seemingly amused.

Not her day. Definitely not her day.

"He's right behind me?!"

Dot giggled loudly a final time before walking away to Hester's table. Very helpful. Forget what Agatha said about liking Dot. She didn't. Dot was a horrible person.

Agatha turned on her heels, facing the stranger with a sheepish smile. She was not ready for what was about to bite her.

Oh damn, please do.

…Figuratively, fuck. She meant in a figurative way.

Before we go on, Agatha would like to clarify that she blames any less than pure thoughts on Chaddick, because who knows what he put into her drink.

(Yeah, it's totally Chaddick's fault)

Amen, praise Jesus, okay?

Embarrassingly, her first instinct is to say that yes, he was totally hot enough to talk to her. Or come home with her. Or marry her (too soon for this joke, scratch that). That's not what she did, however. Oh, no, she stood there, in silence, and stared for quite a while before her brain rebooted and she finally gained control of her own body again.

Agatha is the first in line to advocate on why you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but she had eyes.

He was tall. As tall, if not taller than her, and Agatha was a tall woman. His jeans looked expensive and his light blue social shirt was tight on his chest, almost as if it were a size too small, the top buttons open, defined muscles visible to even the most casual observer. The shirt was paired with a grey-ish tie that hanged loosely around his neck, a bit too effortless-looking to be unintentional. His features were sharp, sculpted even, a certain California-sunny-surfer meets Adonis-next-door quality to them. Soft blond locks had an unnatural shine under the club's lights, as if they were made of gold.

And his eyes, my god, they were so blue Agatha felt like sinking and drowning in his arms right then and there. Unfortunately, she couldn't. Because you see, she is a grown woman and had a little thing called dignity.

Not that she didn't want to though.

Focus.

He did look kind of familiar. Had they met before? Agatha doesn't think so. This man looked like he just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad, and she sure as hell didn't know many people who look like that. One of Sophie's model friends? If so, she certainly hadn't introduced the two.

Yet, the way he was looking at her right now indicated the reality that she should probably know who he is. Maybe he was from her old gym, back when she let Sophie talk her into going for a few months? No, there were no hot guys there, just old ladies and teenagers.

Okay, so, plan B, say something smart.

"Hm…"

Say something.

"…So…"

Anything!

He doesn't look very impressed by her articulate conversation skills, but Agatha can't place where she had seen him before. Maybe they had been neighbors at some point? She moved quite a few times in these last years and keeping track of all of them was impossible. But that didn't seem quite right. A friend of one of her exes then? Did they meet at pride or something?

Seriously, who was this guy! Acting all smooth, as if she should know who he is! He's good looking enough to be memorable sure, but clearly not memorable enough.

Hell, did she sleep with him? He must have been the worst one night stand ever for Agatha to somehow forget him. Maybe he was so bad that she forgot about him completely...?

"I give up, I can't remember you."

He looked a bit offended. Maybe he was indeed a Calvin Klein model.

"The name's Tedros…?"

Tedros, Tedros… Tedros?

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell," she concludes, "but, I'm, hm, Agatha?"

"I know," he responds, curt and firm, nearly glaring at her.

"Neat."

"Nice."

"Good."

"Great."

"Awesome."

"Amazing."

"Extraordinary."

"Now, that's a big word," he mocks. Agatha suspects he just didn't know any bigger ones to keep up. Part of her wishes to strangle him with his own tie and part of her wants to call him out on his shit. He approached her, okay? She is under no obligation to recognize him.

Her eyes narrow and she sips on her fourth cup again.

"Do you need for me to tell you what it means?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine."

The passive-aggressive-ness of this conversation is starting to exhaust her and kill any buzz she had, but she can't just let Mr. everyone-knows-who-I-am-and-I-look-like-walking-sex win. He needed to go down (on her). What.

"Hm, Tedros, you're going to order something or what?"

Chaddick cuts the stare contest between brown and blue and Agatha makes a note to leave him a nicer tip tonight.

"What's the special of the day?" Tedros' tone is amused, as if he and Chaddick are old friends. Ugh, of course he would. He sounded douchey enough. Maybe he went to school with her? That sounded about right, she could picture it. Pretty-boy-Tedros, walking down the hall wearing a football jacket with a cheerleader or two on his arm.

"Nice little things I've put together," Chaddick wiggled his eyebrows. "Want some?"

"Is it safe?" Tedros asks him, cautiously.

"Well, Agatha here is still fine at four, I would say so."

Soon enough Tedros is downing his second cup, sitting on the stool next to hers.

.

.

.

Agatha wasn't sure how or why, but things went from point A to point B very, very quickly.

Point A being sitting beside Tedros at the bar and point B being heavily making out with him in a corner.

Agatha wishes she was joking. She wasn't. It just…somehow…happened?

Fuck.

It all started when Tedros eventually caught up to her and from there on they held a little amicable drinking competition.

("I bet you can't do more shots than me." "Oh, you're so on!" "You drink like a fourteen-year old, dude." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah.")

Then, they paid for their drinks. Well, Tedros did.

("Did you just... pay for me?" "It's called having manners." "Excuse you?")

After that, Chaddick kicked them out to the dance floor, something about the two of them 'grossing him out'. Agatha is not much of a dancer, so she tried to go back her table but Tedros said something (she can't quite remember what it was) that made her realize that she kind of didn't want to. Leave, she means.

They danced for a bit before she stepped on Tedros's foot, or maybe he stepped on hers first?

("Ouch." "Get out of my way!" "Make me.")

From there on it was incomprehensible screaming over loud music for a while and they somehow ended up being way too up in each other's personal space. Agatha eventually just lost it, and grabbed him by his collar, bringing him down to place a forceful peck on his lips, before backing away, partly horrified, partly proud.

It took two mortifyingly long seconds of silence and pure embarrassment for Tedros to grab her by the waist and kiss her roughly.

They stumbled to a more secluded corner, until Agatha's back hit a wall, but she was distracted from the pain of the impact by Tedros licking her bottom lip, seeking her tongue, a small sound escaping her once he found it. What the hell is she even doing, this should not be happening. And yet, she cannot bring herself to care.

This is a wild, passionate kiss and not at all Agatha's expertise. She always considered herself more of a slow-vanilla-soft kind of girl. But out the window with that, Tedros was nowhere near close enough, no matter that they were already flush against each other. Maybe this is why Sophie thinks every guy she meets is her soulmate. As cheesy as it sounds, she feels somehow connected to this stranger, almost as if they were meant to be or something.

Ha, as if.

Any thoughts, of soulmates or otherwise, are forgotten when Tedros' hands start to wander, one goes from her waist to her hip and the other moves to explore her tight, squeezing it deliciously. Agatha retaliates by pulling on his hair, not as lightly as she probably should've, but is rewarded with a husky groan and a bite on her bottom lip.

(She does it again because that might be her new favorite sound.)

What. Is. Going. On.

Her last braincells are on fire. She was on fire.

Okay, young lady, de-attach yourself from the handsome male slo…

Oh God.

She's pretty much breathless when he decides to break the kiss, her lips chasing after his for the slightest second as he pulls away. Her heartbeat has never been this loud and she has no time to overthink, as, suddenly, his lips are on her neck. Agatha lets out a quiet, but embarrassingly needy, whine (as quietly as she could, but it didn't really matter, he heard her anyway) when he nips on her ear and then trails down to suck at her pulse point. Her hands snake their way from his hair to under his shirt's collar and Tedros shivers once she drags her short nails lightly on his upper back and shoulders, but she can still feel his very attractive smug smirk against her skin.

She felt drunk. She doesn't feel like that often.

Not the completely-trashed-I-just-had-countless-drinks kind of drunk and certainly not this don't-care-keep-going-my-blood-is-on-fire kind of drunk either. Like she wanted to keep touching Tedros for the rest of her life (the idea doesn't sound half bad), as fireworks danced around them and… God, if Sophie knows this guy how she could not marry him on the spot, because fuck…

He's leaving quite a few love bites along her collarbone, teasing, attempting (and succeeding) at drawing tiny sounds from her and Agatha can't take it anymore. She drags him back up to her mouth and somehow pulls him even closer. She did not like feeling weak, but to her surprise, Tedros seemed to possess the superpower of turning her completely boneless in the best kind of way.

Wait.

Agatha is making out with Tedros.

Tedros is making out with her.

Agatha's eyes open in late realization and the two of them stare at each other for a few seconds.

So, this happened, huh?

"I… hm… have to go. Out of here. Home. Alone. Yeah, that," Agatha makes way around paralyzed Tedros, whom looks very confused and disoriented. His lips are tainted with coral lipstick, he's panting for air, his bright eyes dark with desire, clothes looking disrelished, pants looking a bit too tight, and he just looks throughfully kissed.

No, Agatha does not feel even a little tiny bit of pride by seeing him look like that because of her, what are you talking about, not sexy, not sexy at all.

… Maybe he could come along?

No. No, no, no.

She doesn't run away from him exactly, but she sure as hell wasn't walking. As she passes Hester and Anadil, the two of them raise eyebrows judgingly, but Agatha does her best to school her expression into neutrality.

If she waited a bit longer, she might have heard Tedros saying:

"Until tomorrow then."

.

.

.

Agatha regrets every single life choice that led her to this point.

She's sitting on a ridiculously shaped chair at Sophie's apartment building's terrace, brooding silently in the corner, with a big headache, while eating some diet cake that tasted like foam, listening to violin versions of bad pop songs, probably dying of heatstroke, and if that doesn't kill her soon enough, can someone please end her misery…

Hester and Anadil are not here after all. Agatha doesn't blame them. It might be for the best, because Agatha doesn't need to deal with Hester's judgy eyebrows right now. Dot is down in Sophie's apartment, at the kitchen, most likely trying to steal some wine and she is pretty much the only person here Agatha can stand.

She partly wonders if Hort will show up but decides she does not care. She's running on aspirin, her head feels like it was smashed against a wall multiple times, and it's too hot here, okay?

It's a hot sunny day and the limited shade would not be enough to cool Agatha down even if she wasn't wearing a scarf. Agatha hates this scarf. It was another one of Sophie's gifts, and Agatha hates it because it's an evil scarf that pinches her every five seconds. However it's the lightest scarf she owns, and she can't it take off.

Otherwise, someone might notice the dark mark on her neck, which her shirt could not hide, as was the case for the other ones, lower, in her collarbones.

Tedros freaking marked her. The nerve.

She's not nearly as pissed as she should be, because honestly she's kinda into it.

Taking off the scarf would lead to too much teasing and questions, she had no turtlenecks available (damn you, past-Agatha, for not doing your laundry) and if only she had the skills to cover it up with makeup. Not only was the scarf evil by itself, it made it impossible for her to not think of yesterday, therefore, making her even more irritable.

She is not the kind of person who kisses people at the club. She sure as hell wouldn't bring a guy she's just met, at the club of all places, home. What if he'd been a psycho? She doesn't know him. He'd know where she lived. She wouldn't go to his place either, that sounded even more irresponsible. But she wishes she had at least gotten his number, you know, instead of freaking out and running away. Well, he knew Chaddick, so maybe she could ask him?

No, that would be humiliating, and Agatha is trying to hang on to whatever dignity she had left.

Also, it had been almost an hour at this damned terrace party and she hasn't seen a single trace of Sophie's fiancé, but the blonde assured her he would be there soon. He's the late-type, hm.

Okay, so Agatha hates him already.

She has been to this terrace quite a few times, it was the one pro of Sophie's building, aside from cheap rent. But she was running out of both will and things to point out in small talk with all these models and small influencers. If she hears "Sophie has such a lovely terrace" one more time…

Suddenly, there was clank, signaling that someone pushed the terrace door open. As Sophie lit up and moved to greet the newcomer, Agatha felt the cake climb up her throat.

Holy hell, is that Tedros?

What is her life, really.

Agatha gets up from her chair quietly, observing the scene from behind a plant, trying not to be too obvious, just, ya know, casually chilling in the middle of the scorching sun. Sophie hugs him tightly, placing a kiss on his cheek, grinning as she laces their fingers together and starts walking in Agatha's general direction, pulling the handsome man behind her.

Hm, no.

Agatha resists the urge to pace in circles as she tries to gather her thoughts. It might be the hangover or the diet cake but seeing the two of them together made her wanna barf. Not because they didn't look good together. They did. In fact, maybe too good. Sophie's long soft hair was a shade or two lighter than Tedros', but other than that, they might as well have been made in the same Instagram-model-facility. Like a set, Barbie and Ken.

What is this feeling?

Oh no, she can see them approaching. Abort mission, leave, get out, hit the road…

"Aggie, darling!"

Agatha forces herself to fake a confident smile, as if she could always be found casually hanging out behind plants on saturday mornings. It turned out to be more of sheepish grin, especially when compared to her friend, whose pretty smile is almost too big for her too pretty face.

Sophie looked particularly gorgeous in her pastel green summer dress and peep-toe heels. Her tanned skin glows under the sun, the light catching in her green eyes on that special way that made photographers all around the industry want to work with her despite her inexperience, the grace within her movements creating an allure Agatha doesn't think she'd be able to recreate even if she were to be born again.

This is not good. Leave, abort mission, repeat, abort miss…

"Aggie, this is Tedros, you know, the one I was telling you about yesterday," she winked. "Teddy, this is my bestie, Agatha, you remember her, right?" Sophie nudges him lightly using her elbow.

Tedros looks even better now that she can see him in natural daylight. Which should be illegal, truly. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, his hair made of pure gold looked just messy enough to not look too try-hard, yet something about him looked weirdly… staged? Agatha couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I surely do," Tedros lets go of Sophie's hand, shoulders tensing, and Agatha thinks he might be blushing. Is he nervous? "We-"

"Nice to meet you," Agatha interrupts him, grasping his hand on a firm handshake and letting go just as fast, as if touching his skin would burn her. "Sophie told me a lot about you."

Play along, please. I beg you.

"Oh, hm, it's very nice to meet you too?" Tedros responds, confused, but not calling her out. "Nice scarf," he adds, his lips curling upwards, so very slightly she might have missed if she wasn't micro-analyzing his every movement. Smug bastard. She is all too aware of his gaze lingering on her neck, a hint of pride showing in his bright eyes, the teasing in his voice making her want to pull him down by the collar, whether to choke him or to kiss him she couldn't tell.

"Oh, isn't it cute? See, Aggie, I told you that color looked great on you!" Sophie cuts in, reaching to touch said scarf. Agatha steps back self-consciously, making an effort to not scratch the back of her neck as not to call more attention to it.

"Quite the bold fashion statement for the summer, may I add," Tedros continues as he casually leaned one elbow on Sophie's shoulder. Subtle enough that Sophie wouldn't read too much into it, but Agatha could see right through his shit. "But I like it. You look very pretty, Agatha"

How dare he, truly. No sham-

Wait.

"So, I need to get going, work emergency you see, but I'll make it up to you, Sophie," Agatha excuses herself, quickly. She tells herself it's just the heat that it's bothering her, but her brain is going 300 miles per hours and she needs to leave. Now.

"Aggie, tomorrow we'll be having lunch at the country club, don't be late!"

"Yeah, be there, alright."

Agatha sprints down the complex's stairs as discreetly as she can, which is not much. By the time she's at her car, the weight of her realization hits her full force.

.

.

.

"I'm getting married, Aggie"

"Not Hort"

"You don't know him yet"

.

.

.

"Aggie, this is Tedros, you know, the one I was telling you about yesterday."

.

.

.

"That was literally three weeks ago."

"I dare you not to remember him. Pretty sure Sophie told you about how she met him again a few weeks ago at that event she went to? The one sponsored by Camelot International?"

.

.

.

"…Oh he's so great and wonderful, he's tall, has these hypnotizing eyes, they're so intense, its like they suck you in, Aggie! His hair is just wow, it's a very uncommon shade of blonde, the undertone is beautiful, so expensive-looking, but it's natural, he swears, and his skin is so soft you wouldn't believe, his name is…"

"bla, bla, bla, perfect, bla, bla, bla, handsome"

.

.

.

"He's so different from anyone I've ever met…"

"She feels somehow connected to this stranger, almost as if they were meant to be or something."

.

.

.

"Acting all smooth, as if she should know who he is!"

"He looked a bit offended."

"The name's Tedros?"

.

.

.

"God, if Sophie knows this guy how could she not marry him on the spot…"

"Sophie hugs him tightly, placing a kiss on his cheek, grinning as she laces their fingers together and starts walking, pulling the handsome man behind her."

.

.

.

Agatha is a very bad friend, isn't she?

She bangs her head on the wheel.

Then, she regrets doing so, opening the car's door, so she could vomit some diet cake and last night's alcohol on the parking lot's floor before driving away.

.

.

.

By a miracle, Agatha survives the drive home and makes it back home in one piece.

As she walks into her own apartment, she does not feel half as guilty as she thought she would be. But she was very, very angry. Furious, actually.

At herself for being both a dumbass and a bad friend, at Tedros for being a player, at Chaddick for being a dick in general, at Sophie for being Sophie, at Dot for not warning her and even at Hester for not being at the party today so Agatha could at least not freak out by herself.

She can't do anything for the rest of the day, because trying to work, read or sleep is useless, since she can't focus with all the internal screeching her mind is doing. Her existence now doesn't make any sense and Agatha is about to tear her hair out, lying down in her bed, staring at the celling.

(There's a long crack on there and for whatever reason, it reminded her of a river. Probably because it didn't look like anything else.)

She contemplates calling Hester and telling her everything but ultimately decides against it. She can't bring herself to explain this out loud, least of all hear any possible lecture Hester might give her. Is this how Sophie feels when she decides hide things from her-

Oh my God, Sophie.

Tedros was engaged. To Sophie. He was Sophie's fiancé.

Agatha is not freaking out at all.

.

.

.

At last, ten long hours of sulking later, Agatha is feeling a lot guiltier, still very much pissed and just confused as a whole.

She made out with Sophie's fiancé. Should she tell her? Yes. Would she? To be decided.

Maybe they wouldn't even get married. Come on, a few weeks? There's no way Sophie will keep up this insanity. Telling her about the club incident would only hurt their life-long friendship over a guy who wasn't even gonna last two months. Years of companionship out the window. She had no intention of doing it again so, did it really matter? What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right?

She hadn't even known he was Sophie's fiancé!

But then again, Sophie had told her all about him. She didn't listen because she was a bad friend! Was she really gonna play the "I didn't know" card...?

It was the truth!

But no one would believe her. Fuck, if Agatha were Sophie, she wouldn't believe herself. Agatha was a smart grown woman, godamn it. What kind of dumb bitch even-

This wedding wasn't happening. No need to worry, right?

For now, Agatha has two long weeks of supposedly weeding-related bonding moments with Sophie to survive, without accidentally letting slip that, oh, talked, drank, danced and made out with Tedros.

Well, shit.

.

.

.

Even if one ignored the fact that the guilt was starting to eat Agatha alive from inside out, the next day would still have been a long, tortured journey of nothing but cringe and regrets. Yet she bore it, because she, even if accidentally, brought this on herself.

Agatha got up early on a sunday (name a bigger crime) to try and get something done, since she would probably have little time to work in the following weeks. Then, she went to have lunch with Sophie at a fancy country club (that Sophie couldn't afford by the way, which earned her a lecture on credit cards and personal finances) hoping to have that "red-flag" talk.

It did not go well.

Sophie had invited him along. Of course, she would. Apparently, since she was getting married soon, Agatha should be used to have him around. And, of course, Sophie would have decided to tell her he was coming the moment he walked in, headed to their table.

This is Sophie's fiancé. Do. Not. Stare.

What kind of cosmic karma is this? He isn't even her type.

WHY-

"Afternoon, ladies."

Sophie greeted the blonde with a smile and a hug, as Agatha merely nodded his way, scanning the room for the closest exit.

"Hi Teddy!"

"Tedros."

Lunch is awkward as hell and at this point Agatha is just waiting for a waiter to come and stab her. It ends up being both not so terrible and the worst lunch ever because she does talk quite a lot with Tedros, against her better judgment.

She learns that Tedros did go to her school, for three years. Sophie asks him if he remembers Agatha, and from Tedros' silence, Agatha assumes he doesn't want to admit to having been part of Chaddick's... shenanigans.

Her friend then talks astrology, and Agatha learns that he is a leo (because of course he would), is kinda proud of it but says he doesn't believe in astrology, prompting Sophie to start a discussion on why he wouldn't believe in astrology if he believed in tarot. The way he blushes and stammers is cute and makes Agatha feel horrible for thinking so, but she asks him about tarot anyway. She's just being polite, okay?

He mentions he'd turned 26 a while ago and recently moved back to the city, as he moved away to go to college in Avalon. She tells him she almost went there, but her scholarship did not include a dormroom and she knew no one there to share an apartment with. His answer is a blunt "I know", which both confuses and pisses her off.

Tedros offers her no further info on it, but they engage in conversation again after he mentions he is working at Camelot International.

("As one of the main executives on the board," Sophie adds, "it's one of the most powerful companies in the country.")

They quickly bond over their massive workloads (Agatha may not be a main executive of a huge corporate empire, but damn if being head finance director for SGE Enterprises didn't keep her busy enough), until Sophie slips that he must be very lucky to be the sole heir to the Pendragon Group.

Oh.

Tedros Pendragon. Are you kidding? Agatha remembers seeing his family's name being all over the news back in school and she feels dumb for not remembering that Tedros and 'that Pendragon boy' were the same person. Hadn't his parents had a huge cheating-divorce-scandal that caused the stock for the company to plummet a few years ago?

Tedros frowns at Sophie before saying that, "Yes, indeed, he's very lucky."

The blonde doesn't seem to notice the way his hands grip the fork tightly as he pronounces the last word, but Agatha does.

It adds on to the list of things that keep her awake later, after she does her damn laundry and stress-cleans her entire apartment. She curses as she turns and tosses on her bed, because it's 2 AM, work starts in a few hours and she needs to sleep.

.

.

.

The next four days are not much different, the routine is pretty much the same, except they have dinner plans instead of lunch. Work, eat, work, do bridesmaid shit with Sophie and Tedros somewhere, avoid his gaze, talk for a bit over something like choosing the best flower arrangements, and then hightail out of there, only to come home and be restless.

She was still very confused, because honestly, Tedros didn't seem bad at all. The more she talked to him, the least she wanted to stop talking to him. He definitely had some family issues and was doing some overcompensating, but nothing that made him, like, a total trash human.

And yet, he was still the guy who hit on her (fucking made out with her), knowing exactly who she was, while being engaged to her best friend.

She always thought herself a good judge of character.

Anyway, she did her best to act aloofly polite and if he ever seemed to hint at the night at The Woods, Agatha cut him off before he could. It was a good plan. Wait it out. And it really was working just fine.

Until the dress store.

For some reason she cannot wrap her head around, Tedros is there too.

(Isn't there a tradition against seeing the dress of your bride before the wedding or something?)

At some point, Sophie struggles to get into a particularly complicated dress at the dressing room, yelling at the poor employees like a harpy on a rampage and Agatha is about to intervene when he manages to pull her aside, his grip firm but with a certain gentleness that made her skin burn.

He semi-drags her across the store through a sea of sparkly white dresses and into this small nook between sections. Agatha does not want to admit that the main reason why he is able to do that is because she allows him to.

Things only go downhill from there.

He has her cornered, her back nearly merging with the wall as he stands close to her, his posture tense, moving slowly, like one would in presence of a startled animal. He doesn't look like he is trying to purposely intimidate her, and she doesn't feel particularly unsafe. No words are spoken between them and the silence allows Agatha's senses to pick up on a deliciously rich smell. Is that Tedros' cologne-

Agatha forces down the rash that is creeping up her neck and tries to focus on doing what she does best, aka, running away from her problems. She looks anywhere but his face, but he is not making ignoring him an easy job.

"I don't get you."

What.

"Excuse me?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Agatha scoffs, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"I truly don't."

Her response seems to annoy him, which she counts as a win, but Agatha might have declared victory just a bit too soon. Tedros, who was a couple of feet away has managed to get way too close (yet again). His hand raises her chin and forces her to look into his eyes. Her resolution to run away falters and she's scared he might hear her heartbeat speed up.

"Playing dumb doesn't suit you, Agatha. One second you don't like me, then you do like me, then you don't again… I don't understand the game you're playing here… So, I'll make this simple, you won, congratulations, now stop playing games, now you know I'm interested."

Agatha blinks. This is… not the conversation she thought she was going to have.

Of course, during her nightly overthinking sessions she thought about what she'd say if he confronted her about the previous friday, even if she didn't think he'd have the balls to actually do it. But she seems to have been reduced to this dumpster fire nonsense. Tedros never did what she thought he was going to do and it was short-circuiting her braincells.

She's way too aware of the hold he has on her, the compromising situation they're in. One of his hands cages Agatha in, placed on the wall behind her head, while the other keeps her from adverting her gaze from his. Tedros is too close, he smells too good and his mouth looks too inviting.

She hears him, but she doesn't really hear him, his presence fogging up her senses.

Agatha briefly entertains the idea of giving into temptation and kissing him. How nice it would be to grab his collar, invert their positions, slam him against the wall and kiss him senseless, so he could feel just how helpless she felt having him corner her like this. Kiss him and just leave him there, wanting, begging, and…

What. Wow, fuck. Stop.

A new thought hits her like a ton bricks.

This guy is an asshole.

Tedros looks irritated and Agatha wants to punch him.

So she does.

She's strong enough to give him a black eye, but she (unintentionally, Agatha swears) holds backs and aims for his chest. However, she can tell it hurt a lot by the way his eyes water and he backs away several steps. She hears Sophie yelling their names across the store and giving Tedros one last glare, she turns around and walks away.

The nerve.

Why would anyone marry him?

Sophie needed a wakeup call. And fast. Because while Sophie could be a nightmare, she did not deserve to be played like that.

.

.

.

Agatha was not a superstitious person.

If she forgot her umbrella at home and it started raining when she left the dress shop (Tedros and Sophie both offered her a ride but she would rather choke, honestly, and said no, forgetting that she rode here with Sophie in the first place), it's not fate, it's bad luck. If she gets sick and loses her voice (and therefore can't go do neither her work or her bridesmaid duty), it's not conspiracy, it's simply a coincidence.

Well, call it fate, call it bad luck, call it conspiracy, call it coincidence. The case is that Agatha has lost her voice and has both a running nose and a fever. She considers texting the whole story to Sophie but changes her mind when she imagines the blonde woman's reaction.

Agatha, you're such a slut.

She is going to tell Sophie about this… this… this individual. Yeah, she was going to come clean and expose Tedros. No wedding.

Why was Tedros marrying Sophie anyway? She could understand why Sophie would go for Tedros. He did seem like her type. Young, rich, successful and handsome.

(Not really what she herself looked for. Agatha tended to go for witty, responsible people and who did not mind her blunt nature. Never in the history of ever, had Sophie and Agatha been interested on the same person.)

Anyway, he would give her lots of exposure, would look great on her Instagram feed, would be able to save her from her terrible apartment, student loan and infinite credit card debt, and would open up the world of fancy designer shoes and pretty gowns Sophie always dreamed of.

But why would he do that?

Tedros was, again, young, rich, successful and handsome. He hardly expressed any special affection towards Sophie or had the usual lovesick look most of Sophie's victims sported when they found themselves bewitched by her. They didn't really agree on much, from what Agatha gathered on their conversations, had no shared interests, lived completely different lifestyles, had different moral values and overall didn't seem to have the grandiose connection Sophie spoke of at all. Maybe he was with her because she was pretty? But again, why. There werw thousands of pretty girls willing to date young rich men, why Sophie in particular?

Something about this seemed off. She needs to talk to Sophie.

…When she recovered.

.

.

.

Alright, maybe it was conspiracy. The wedding was in two days.

Two days.

She supposes time does go by quickly when you're procrastinating something you really, really don't want to do. Nearly two weeks gone by in a flash. And, as she should, Agatha finally gets herself together. She is going to tell Sophie.

Well, she was going to tell Sophie. The blonde and a few of her friends were at The Woods for a last girl's night out. Meaning:

Sophie was currently drunk.

But maybe she wasn't?

She probably was though. Sophie was the most lightweight person Agatha knew, likely because she was so skinny. Girl could not hold her alcohol and drunk-Sophie was messy-Sophie. Unwilling, untamable and unimaginably difficult to have a coherent conversation with.

But, maybe she wasn't drunk? Agatha was not going to risk it.

She forces herself to hurry. She doesn't change out of her work outfit (merely discarding the suit's jacket), stopping by her house to feed Reaper and leave some important documents. Agatha even nearly forgets to lock her front door, calling a car to the club, hoping it might not be too late to come clean. But she was late anyway, as proven not only by the 15 bucks that left her wallet (for the second time this month) but by-

"Aggieeeee! You're better! Have you taaaasted this? It's amaziiiing!"

Agatha glares at Chaddick, who has the decency to look away. He knew the amount of alcohol Sophie was capable of processing, namely: none.

"Yeah, I have…"

"You should have seen, Sophie; the other night Agatha was so wasted she ma…"

"Chaddick, don't you have somewhere to be? As in, not here?"

The ex-jock walks away with a smirk, knowing he had some nice blackmailing material on her. Could this get any more horrible?

Now what? Should she just take Sophie home? Sober her up, tell her everything then beg for forgiveness? She couldn't. Then what to do, what to do…

"Sophie, I have to tell you something, it's really important, you see…"

"Oh Aggie, I'm sure you can tell me laaaaaatteerrrr! I've been so stressed lately! Time to let it goooo! Come on, I'll even pay your first drinkkkk!"

Her friend lifted a glass of what looked and smelled like a vodka and gin disaster waiting to happen.

"Sophie, what is even that?"

"Not sure…but Chaddick told me it was good."

Agatha sighs. She should tell the truth, right here, right now, shouldn't she?

"… Alright."

And she would have if she were a better person. But to her shame, she downs five more after the first and suddenly she can't remember why she came here on the first place. Something about a guy?

(Lies, Agatha knows exactly what she is doing, but for a few more hours she gives herself the benefit of the doubt.)

Whatever, she'll just deal with it later. She hasn't said anything for the past few days, surely it can wait some more, right?

.

.

.

Said and done, five hours later Agatha concludes she is a horrible human being. She should just quit. Leave the job of human being for people who will not mess up. Like Hester. Hester never messes up shit. Yeah, great plan.

Sophie is knocked out cold, sleeping with her face in a table, drooling, besides said Hester, who has her usual judgy face on, glaring at the blonde woman, like she was some kind of disgusting creature.

Agatha doesn't think she could feel worse.

She should have just told Sophie the truth right away. The moment she found out Tedros was, well, Tedros. Instead she had gone along with a wedding that was sure to be a fiasco, because not only was the groom a liar and a player, but Agatha was therefore his accomplice, and her silence was probably the greatest betrayal of their entire friendship.

She picks up her phone to call a car, so she could at the very least wallow in misery at home, but before the app even loads someone snatches her phone.

Turns out she can indeed feel worse.

"We need to talk."

His voice sounds as it always does whenever she's around, half-annoyed and half-something else Agatha doesn't dare name. As usual, he looks nice. His tight shirt and tie are still in perfect place, unlike the last time she saw him here, signaling he too probably came straight from work.

"This is girl's night; you're not allowed here."

"Oh, I'm not?" Tedros mocks her, but she can tell his heart isn't truly in it. "Then please do tell me the circumstances in which I can talk to you, because you sure don't make it easy."

She is so tired. Trying to avoid him is hard enough, trying to avoid him knowing that she doesn't really want to is impossible. She has always read people so well, and he always seems so genuine. It makes her wanna believe he is not the bad person she knows he is.

"…I've been… avoiding you. It's not that I don't want to talk to you. Is just… that I shouldn't," she hesitates but ends up answering honestly.

Tedros' expression softens at her candor, peering at her with concern.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. Maybe."

He sighs, then digs his car keys from his pocket, still holding her phone hostage on his other hand.

"Look, I'll give you a ride home. I really just wanna talk. We have…unfinished business."

Agatha considers. All this wedding-baloney made her poor, Tedros is so pretty, he looks so wholesome and honest, and she just wants to sulk at home for the next few hours. Maybe he could stay for a day or two. That shirt of his would look great on her floor…

No, bad idea.

"I don't wanna get into a stranger's car," she blurts out the first excuse her mind can manage. In retrospect, that was some obvious bullshit, seeing as they had talked for hours last week and he had already given her a ride before. Granted, it had been Sophie's car and Sophie had been there, but still, that didn't make much sense.

"Oh truly?" he holds up her phone, the ride app now open, "You're gonna pull that one on me?"

It's Agatha's turn to sigh.

"Okay don't go using logic on me, mister. For all I know, you could be planning on kidnapping me and selling my organs on the black market," or worse, actually talking to her.

"Can never be too careful, can we?" he looks partly amused and partly annoyed. "Look, I'm serious here, okay? I'm not going to do anything to you, we can talk to Hester on our way out, I'm sure she'll hunt me and string me up upside down at her soundproofed basement in case I even dream of harming you. Alright?" Tedros's eyes never leave her face in the twenty seconds she takes to decide, and it's really distracting, but she manages to answer:

"Okay, fine."

They talk to Hester, rather, Tedros talks to Hester while Agatha avoids her gaze shamefully. Why does Tedros know Hester? Did they ever talk during school?

Agatha doesn't know and she doesn't ask. Her gaze lingers on Sophie's drooling face and she feels her chest tighten.

The two of them walk into the parking lot awkwardly, in mortifying silence, and enter a silver Porsche. Agatha notes that it looks very out of place, since most cars belonged to employees and looked rather humble next to the silver beauty. Why was Tedros here? He came in his car, so he was not here to drink. Did Sophie tell him to pick her up? Or was he here to see Agatha?

Her heart skips at beat at the thought and she doesn't ask him any of this either.

"Nice ride," she offers instead.

"Thanks."

Tedros drives in silence, with Agatha occasionally telling him to turn on certain streets. She keeps her gaze on the empty roads, but she does catch quite a stunning sight of his profile when she forgets she's not supposed to look at him at all.

To avoid getting too in her head, she decides to turn on the radio. The song that starts playing is familiar and she guesses the radio must be on CD mode. The letters in bold red on the visor tell her she is correct, and this is indeed the song she thinks it is.

"You're into this kind of stuff?"

Tedros grips the wheel, almost defensively.

"They're really good, okay? I've been listening to them for a few years and so far, they're my favorite band. I know their sound isn't for everyone and-"

"I know."

"…It's not what most mainstream artists are doi- you what?"

Agatha blushes when she feels his incredulous gaze on her face, and it occurs her that this is the first time he looks directly at her since they got into his car. She hopes he'll attribute the redness on her cheeks to the red light they're currently stuck at and hesitates before answering, in a quiet voice, meeting his stare:

"They're my favorite band too."

"Oh."

The rest of the drive is less awkward, one would even say comfortable if not for the leftover tension. They sing along quietly to the vocalist and Agatha is sure Tedros stopped himself from doing the guitar once. Not cute, not cute, not cute.

Eventually, they get to her apartment building. She reaches over and turns off the radio, the deafening silence almost too much to bear.

Agatha tries reaching for the car door, but it's locked.

"I did tell you we needed to talk."

Usually, she'd be scared if a guy trapped her in his car in the middle of the night, but Agatha's frustration just comes back at full force and topples over anything else.

"What's to talk, you're clearly into someone else."

Tedros' eyes go big, and Agatha can't help but think he must be the world's greatest actor. Oscar nomination performance. The academy is shook-

"What? Did you, like, not hear anything I sa-"

"I'm not that kind of girl, Tedros," Agatha interrupts him firmly, "I don't hook up with anyone who's in a relationship, especially in a relationship with my best friend, no matter how stupidly short said relationship may be."

"I… Did Sophie tell you-"

"She didn't need to? You guys are engaged, and I am not going to get caught in between, okay? Please, please leave me alone. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Don't give me rides when I'm drunk."

Suddenly, Tedros' confused expression is gone and his eyes are gleaming with what looks like joy. He looks like he might kiss her and Agatha is not sure how well her defenses will hold in case he does.

"Agatha, I think you got this all wrong, I'm not-"

"What, you have amnesia? Or, let me guess, it's your twin brother who's engaged to her?"

Tedros burst out laughing and he sounds like an angel, throwing his head back, and Agatha forgets for a second that she's mad at him. But eventually reality brings her back and she pushes him, with just enough force to get his attention.

"Leave me the fuck alone, dude."

…Asshole.

This time when she reaches for the door, it's unlocked.

She glares at him from the sidewalk one more time, before entering the building.

.

.

.

Agatha doesn't hear a word from him after that.

It's for the best, she tells herself. Agatha spent so much time wishing he would just go away and take these weird feelings he gives her with him that she didn't even consider that once he did go away for real, new, stronger, and even more angsty feelings would appear. She only knew him for two weeks. He wasn't even hers. She has no grieving rights.

She goes out with Sophie one more time, and now it's just the two of them. It would be the perfect time to tell her. She has no excuses. No drinking, no sickness, no Tedros-

Agatha doesn't.

.

.

.

Today is the day.

It's a clear summer night, which is unfair with how angsty and conflicted Agatha feels. Hollywood lied to us all, hasn't it?

Agatha is dressed in a silky blue dress Sophie chose for her. It suits her and she thinks she looks quite pretty. Someone who actually knew what they were doing did her make-up, and for once she managed to tame her hair into submission, putting it into a fancy-looking up-do youtube taught her how to do. She's wearing her best shoes and her fanciest earrings. Agatha is looking and smelling like a daydream outside the main room of the church, but her hands are shaking and she's terrified.

She's not ready. Far from it really.

The rules were simple. If you're not the bride you don't wear white, you don't overdrink, and you never, ever, under any circumstances, fall in love with the groom.

No matter if they were hot, if they smelled good, if their eyes made you feel weak at the knees, if they shared common interests with you, if their taste was impossible to forget, if they went out of their way to get your attention or if they felt like they just might be the one.

You just didn't okay?

Shit, this was messed up. Still, Agatha brought herself to breathe deeply, trying to contain her anxiety.

The ceremonialist tells her it's her cue and she's soon walking down the aisle, clutching a small bouquet of pink carnations like a lifeline, looking around the church.

The place is crowded. Their entire social circle and their grandmother seem to be here. People from their childhood neighborhood, people from school, both of Sophie's parents, her stepmother and step siblings, quite a few models and influencers and a bunch of people she had never seen, probably Tedros' friends, family and co-workers.

The flowers and decorations look as amazing and beautiful as she would have expected from Sophie and she might have seen Hester, Anadil and Dot on a row somewhere, but that's not what made her almost freeze, nearly stumbling on the red carpet.

The groom.

He's wearing an expensive-looking white tuxedo, his hair is an unnatural platinum blonde and his eyes are disturbingly intense. He's tall, sharp and everything about him screams fancy. He's attractive in the way some snakes are attractive, beautiful and deadly, but the big deal is:

Agatha has never seen that man in her entire life.

She goes to her spot standing by the side, her brain running a marathon, tons of data just being tossed aimlessly on her mind as she tries to wrap her head around what the actual fuck is going on when her eyes meet someone else's.

Seating on the third row on the left, Tedros' blue eyes are shinning in complete and absolute amusement, his hand is over his mouth in a barely controlled laugh. The music seems to be on his side, because no one hears him. Agatha schools her expression into anything other than the overbearing wrath she feels, but she's not sure if she's doing a good job.

She's somewhat aware of the chaos that seems to be unfolding around her; the ceremonialist's screeching, the groom's rage, the crowd's confused mumbling and Sophie's absence. But it does not matter.

Agatha really wants to choke Tedros with his tie.

.

.

.

Turns out, Sophie's groom was named Rafal. Not that Agatha would remember his name a few days from now.

He is the current CEO of Two Brothers, a huge company, often associated with the mafia for fucks sake. Known playboy and womanizer, with a criminal record for drug dealing, as well as physical and sexual assault. Also, partially involved on the illegal leaks of information that caused the media scandal around Tedros' parents' divorce all those years ago, she later learns.

Great guy, Sophie. 10/10. Husband material right there.

At least she didn't follow through, Agatha argues to try and calm herself down. Oh yeah, Sophie ran away from her own wedding. No one was surprised honestly. Maybe Rafal. He looked very, very angry. Agatha didn't really blame him, after knowing that he was the one paying for the wedding, after party and honeymoon, no matter how horrible of a person he seems to be.

By now, Sophie should be in Paris, enjoying her honeymoon tickets and reservations. Through text, she tells Agatha how lonely and sad she is and how she'll tell her everything that happened in complete details on their next café meeting in a about month and a half. Agatha suspects she is not as lonely as she claims to be because Hort's Instagram stories tell her he is currently in Europe as well, if not in Paris. But then again, she will not concern herself over this matter. "No wedding" was good news enough to keep her in a great mood for any of Sophie's shenanigans for the next following weeks.

And since the reception was already paid for, everyone just decided to come enjoy it.

Yes, when she says everyone, she means everyone.

"Hey, you."

Oh, Lord, no.

Agatha doesn't lift her head to look at him, continuing to type a half-assed reply to Sophie's whiny texts. She won't give him the satisfaction. Instead she downs whatever is left of her whisky, because that's what one does when courage lacks.

She's sitting at the main table of the ballroom, by herself, mostly because it's where she's been assigned to sit, but also because she's not up for the questions the other guests will probably feel entitled to ask if she were to sit with them. Hester is nowhere in sight, but Agatha is sure she's making herself scarce on purpose. She saw Chaddick back at the church but they politely ignored each other and Dot had been missing for quite a while.

"Not speaking to me?"

"No."

"Come on, it was pretty funny."

"No, it wasn't," she finally looks up at him and he must have sensed true resentment in her perfectly lined brown eyes, because his smug, perfect façade crumbled, and he looked very awkward suddenly. Tedros pulls up the chair beside her and she notices it has his name on it. Sophie was not being subtle on her matchmaking at all, was she?

God, Agatha was so dumb.

"Well, it wasn't very funny to me either then, but I do laugh quite a bit now," he offers, sipping on champagne, trying to keep busy.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you," she's quiet for few seconds, considering what she's going to say. "Tedros?"

"Yeah?" he looks up from his flute of champagne, hopeful blue eyes shining in the half light of the candlelit ballroom and keeping her from saying what she was actually going to say, so instead she blurts:

"I'm not sorry for punching you."

"I didn't expect you to be," his smile is friendly and contagious. He downs the last of his champagne and extends a hand to her. "Okay, let's start again. I'm Tedros, I'm so single it hurts, and when we were in high school, I had a crush on you."

The way he says this so openly, his voice so even and clear nearly drowns out the vulnerable look on his face. Agatha herself can barely register his expression because she's pretty sure her brain has short-circuited. Again.

"No, you did not."

"But I did."

Tedros proceeds to tell her all sorts of things.

He tells her about how he first saw her as a rival because of her grades (she never really paid any attention to the scoreboard, she thought it was bullshit, but in retrospect she does remembers his name was always under hers), and about how sorry he was that he laughed and partook at Chaddick's antics during junior year, mostly because he the felt like 'the new guy with a big name and no friends' and felt she was a threat.

"That's some real introspection and self-awareness right there, hm"

"I'm just fortunate enough to have had a really good therapist," Tedros responds, "Merlin is like a psychology-wizard. He was the one who kinda sorted out that maybe part of my teen angst was repressed attraction to someone who fed the cats behind the library"

"Oh, then you've been my stalker for quite some time then."

Tedros blushes and Agatha is both flattered and embarrassed at the same time.

He then explains about how shit blew up on his face during his parents' divorce, how his grades dropped, how he got kicked out of the football team and how he started to spend a long ass time sulking at the library. Which just so happened to be Agatha's favorite hangout spot at the time. Tedros tells her how he thought she was cute, how she was one of the people who hadn't changed with him (even if unintentionally) and how he wanted to get to know her.

What.

"I just… wasn't sure how to approach you? I always dragged Chaddick to your tea shop when I didn't see you at the library but then chickened out and-"

"...I take neither of you were huge tea fans?"

"Yeah?"

"That does explain a lot," Agatha mumbles.

"I was going to talk to you about Avalon when I heard you were going there, but… Since you didn't tell me that, I kinda found out when Chaddick took your math notebook to be my 'wingman', I didn't think you would have…appreciated.

"Wait, that was Chaddick playing your wingman?" Agatha burst out laughing.

"The plan was that I was supposed to casually hand back to you something you forgot, but he kinda grew tired of waiting for you to actually forget something," Tedros chuckled. "If you thought Chaddick was bad then what big word is Miss-best-in-class going to use to describe Sophie's take on playing wingwoman?"

"Horrendous," Agatha deadpans and now it's Tedros turn to laugh.

Silence sits between the two. It's not uncomfortable and kinda welcome. Agatha digests the last forty minutes of enlighting conversation as they eat the main course of the night. A waiter comes to pick up both of their plates and she decides she still has some questions.

"Well, do you still do?"

"Do I still what?" Tedros questions, his head slightly inclined, like a confused puppy.

"Have a crush on me," Agatha mumbles, her cheeks burning.

Tedros' expression goes from 'confused' back to that mischievous look he had back at the church, leaning towards her ever so slightly.

"Maybe."

"Good," she offers her hand, as he had before, "I'm Agatha, I jump to conclusions, but I am very interested in getting to know you."

Tedros however, doesn't shake her hand as she had his. Instead, he takes it to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, relishing in the shocked look on her face before she can school her expression back to unaffected aloofness.

"Are you free at six next friday?"

"Late meeting, but I'm good at seven. Pick me up?" she asks, an unspoken challenge laced in her words.

"As the lady wishes." Challenge accepted. "Any preferences?"

"Anywhere but 'The Woods'. But make sure to text me first if it's somewhere fancy," she smiles. "You know what? I still don't have your number."

Tedros confidently stands up, his hand yet to release hers.

"A number for a dance?"

Agatha told him that night at 'The Woods' that she isn't a very good dancer but again, he insists. It's fine, because they don't dance for long anyway. By the time Tedros gives up, fumbling with his phone to call a car, his hair is already a mess, Agatha's broke free from her up-do and there is lipstick everywhere.

I'm not sorry This was so much fun to revisit. I forgot how fun SGE was. I kinda fell out of touch with the series. I did read QFG, I just can't remember what happens in it? Idk. I felt the series should have concluded on TLEA. If possible before the whole Agatha and Sophie baloney stunt, because I never bought that. Please leave me comment and share your thoughts with me! Hope you are all safe during this quarantine, friends

[portals-to-a-new-world]

Tired of Love Songs

Who?: Tony Stark x Reader

What?: Tony Stark thought he was tired of love, but maybe he was wrong.

Word Count: 1409

A/N: This is a repost/me moving my works to tumblr for convenience :) In my mind this is set somewhere after Iron Man 3 and Pepper left him a while ago.(P/d) Preferred Drink

The party was as cliché as it could be, music blasting, people dancing, and the last place you wanted to be. Tony had insisted you come; after all, it was another Avenger’s victory party, and as part of the team you had every right to celebrate. You finally relented when he used those big puppy eyes of his, and even managed to convince yourself that you were gonna have a good time and maybe even meet someone new; right up until you were left alone at the bar when that song came on. You sigh deeply, motioning the bartender for another shot of (p/d). No matter how many shots you took, you still felt entirely too clear-minded. At least, until you tried to get up to leave and your foot got caught on the stool, and you stumbled straight into someone’s arms.

“Woaaah, easy there (y/n/n),” you looked up to see Tony grinning down at you. You mumbled a thank you and tried to extricate yourself from his arms, but his grip tightened. “Wait. Are you drunk?”

“I’m moderately functional,”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m fine, Tony. Just tired and wanna go home,”

“Tired of what? The party’s only been going on for like an hour and a half,” The next words to come out of your mouth left confusion on both of your faces.

“I’m tired of love songs, honestly,” You said. After the initial shock at your honesty subsided, Tony nodded his head.

“I know the feeling. Tell you what. Give me a few minutes to wrap some things up, and I’ll take you home,” You started to interrupt, but he cut you off “No, I insist. I was the one who asked you to come tonight, and it’s the least I can do. Besides, as good as you look in that dress, you’d almost certainly be kidnapped by whatever ride service driver picked you up. Can’t have your kidnapping on my conscience. Wait here,” He said sternly. You nodded, hoping it would satisfy him enough to leave you alone. He searched your face and then shook his head. “I’m serious. Don’t make me sic Happy on you,”

“Fiine.” He grins and walks away. You pulled out your phone and texted the group chat (Tony got kicked out after he spammed gifs for 30 minutes straight) letting them know you were leaving early.

Huh. Funny. Tony just said he’s leaving too. You got something to tell us? ;) -Nat

He offered to drive me home Nat, nothing more. -You

Be safe and text us if he tries anything. I’ll kick his ass -Steve

Thanks Steve, but I can kick his ass myself -You

Yeah Steve, you’re like fourth in line to kick his ass. -Nat

You shook your head and put your phone back in your bag as you scanned the room for Tony. Nat was the only one who knew about your minor major crush on the genius billionaire, and she was the one who told you not to get your hopes up. After Pepper had left, Tony had apparently given up on love; not that you could blame him. Everyone around the two knew they were either going to have a nuclear fallout or get married. Personally, you thought that Pepper never deserved Tony, but that could have just been jealousy talking. Still, no one could blame the man for giving up on love. Your own last relationship had been great, everyone thought the two of you were going to get married, and it was just a bombshell to them when your ex decided to end it. It had been a little over a year since then, and while you weren’t heartbroken anymore, you still felt bitter every time a love song came on the radio. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Tony had returned.

“(Y/n)? Hello?” You shook your head to clear your thoughts as Tony’s voice sounded beside you. He looked at you with concern etched into his face. You offered a small smile, and he relaxed slightly. “Ready to go?” He asked, offering you his arm. You nod and loop your arm through his.

“Lead the way, Mr. Stark,”

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

The ride home lightened your mood considerably, as Tony insisted on blasting classic rock and belting out the lyrics at top volume. By the time you pulled up to your apartment building, your face was sore from laughing so much. As you got out of the car, you couldn’t help but smile even more. These were the moments you treasured; the times Tony let his guard down and just enjoyed himself. You glanced up at him only to find him looking at you strangely; almost as if he was having an internal debate.

“What’s with the face?” You asked jokingly, hoping to defuse the sudden tension in the atmosphere. He offered you a grin and stepped forward. “Tony-“

“Listen I don’t know who hurt you, or what happened, but whoever they were? They’re an idiot,” He raised a hand to stop you from cutting him off “No just hear me out for a second, okay? They’re an idiot for losing you because you are the most amazing person I have ever met. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, and that includes yourself. After Pepper, I thought I was done. I was never good at the whole relationship thing, and I always end up hurting those around me so I thought that would be it, but with you I-“ He stopped himself out of nowhere, and you can see the fear in his eyes before his defenses go up. He flashed his ‘press grin’ and leaned over to place a feather-light kiss on your cheek. “Goodnight (y/n),”

“Tony, wait!” You grabbed him by the wrist, and he turned to look at you with a smile trying to hide the sadness in his eyes. “With me, you what?” He shook his head and tried to pull out of your grip, but you held on even tighter. He grimaced and sighed.

“It’s easy to forget you’re so strong. You can let go. I’m not going to run,” He said with a small smile. Slowly you release your grip on him, and he rubbed his wrist for a moment before reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. He doesn’t pull his hand back right away, instead stroking the side of your face. “With you, I feel like a different man. And sometimes when you smile I catch myself thinking how much I want to see that smile every day, and God help me if I’m following you up the stairs-“ You smacked him playfully on the chest and he grins so wide you’re vaguely worried his face will split in two. You’re both suddenly aware of how close together you had become, but neither of you moved to step away. “With you, I forget all the things that could go wrong and think that maybe there’s a chance for us,” The pure vulnerability in his face made your heart skip a beat, and you found your hand reaching up to cradle his face. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes for a moment.

“I think there’s a chance too,” You say, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes snap open, searching your face for any hint of a lie.

“You do?” He asks, and you nodded slowly. “Is that something you want?” His voice is shaking, and you pulled him down to place a kiss on his forehead.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” You say. You couldn’t tell who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours, and the world around you ceased to exist. The kiss was both soft and rough, gentle and desperate, and only broken when you were both dizzy from the lack of air. He rested his forehead against yours, and you couldn’t stop yourself from whispering “Wow,” He laughed softly, and you pulled back to grin at him. You’re certain your heart is going to burst from the flood of warmth you get when you see his face completely empty of all fear, that breathtaking smile of his reflected on your own lips. “So, Mr. Stark. After training tomorrow, would you like to do dinner and movie?”

“Miss (y/l/n), I would absolutely love to,”

[owlways-and-forever]

Some mistakes get made That’s alright, that’s okay You can think that you’re in love When you’re really just in pain

Mary looked around the dreary old house, noting the way the light from the sun outside didn’t manage to filter through the heavy brocade curtains. She supposed it had always been dim inside, but in the early days of her marriage, when they lived here, it hadn’t seemed to matter quite so much. They had been quite content, back then, to stay shuttered up in their bedroom, and the darkness had seemed rather cozy and intoxicating. Of course, they had hardly used Grimmauld Place since the coronation and moving into the palace. She picked up an old photograph, running her finger through the dust that coated it. Underneath was a smiling image of herself, blissfully happy, her arms wrapped tightly around Sirius’ waist. He was laughing at something, one hand mussing his curls to disarray while the other sat comfortably on her shoulder. Mary couldn’t believe how happy they looked. Why did it seem like this photograph was of another girl in another lifetime?

They had married for love, all those years ago. Against the advice of her family, she had married Sirius because her heart had sung out for him, and she believed that his had done likewise. They’d been happy for a while too, or at least she thought they had. But then there had been the children, and her father’s death, and now life was so very different from what it had been before. Mary tried to pinpoint when it had all changed, when they had stopped being happy, but she wasn’t sure she could. Truthfully, she suspected that the moment was quite different for herself and for Sirius. She had been quite content until the bombshell revelation that had upended her world the week before. But it seemed that Sirius had been struggling in their marriage for much longer than she.

. - . - .

“Where’s my husband?” the Queen asked her private secretary, arching an eyebrow imperiously. She was not this commanding person by nature, and often found that the best way to get through it was to pretend as if she were someone more imposing.

Remus shuffled uncomfortably and looked very much as if he would rather sink into the carpet than answer her question.

“Remus?” she prompted.

“I believe he’s out riding, ma’am,” he answered at last, although his expression was most peculiar as he spoke.

“No he’s not,” she refuted, offering Remus a quizzical look. She didn’t understand why the man would lie to her - they had always got on so well. “I was out riding myself not twenty minutes ago. All the other horses were in the stable.”

“Perhaps you just missed him?”

“Remus, really, what is going on?” Queen Mary huffed, impatient and confused by her private secretary’s actions. ‘This is absurd. I need… I need to speak with my husband, so would you kindly tell me where he is?”

“Riding is the term with which I am most comfortable, Your Majesty,” Remus answered, closing his eyes as though the words he were about to say caused him physical pain. “I don’t believe I specified that he was riding horses though, ma’am.”

“Then what on earth is he riding?” she said, not at all following.

“Not a what, ma’am,” he admitted, his eyes fixed on the carpet.

“Oh,” the Queen said, the single syllable all she was able to manage as reality crashed down around her ears.

. - . - .

Mary wasn’t entirely sure that she could honestly say she was surprised by it. Sirius had always been popular, and in a way it had been one of the things that had drawn her to him. She had loved his confidence, his bravado. It thrilled her, and made her feel more daring. He was so comfortable diving into new situations - an adventurer at heart - and he pulled her along with him.

But she had never really thought he would hurt her. Never thought that he would let go of her hand and keep adventuring without her - or worse still, with someone else. Mary had so many questions now. Did he love her, this other woman? How long had it been going on? Did everyone know? She felt foolish and idiotic for not seeing this affair unfolding before her very nose.

Shaking her head, Mary turned to leave. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find in the house after all. Further proof of her husband’s infidelity? Unlikely. As she set the photograph back in it’s spot on the corner cabinet, she heard the front door open.

“Gideon?” she called out softly, stepping out into the hallway. Normally, her bodyguard would be content to wait outside at a location like this, unless there were some threat of imminent danger from which he needed to remove her. Her blood ran cold for a moment as she considered what it might mean.

But it was not Gideon who stood by the door. Looking over his shoulder in surprise was a stranger, and rather a handsome one at that.

“Your Majesty,” he addressed her, recovering quickly enough. “Forgive me, I had no idea you were here.”

“Clearly,” she replied, trying to decide whether to be frightened, curious, or amused. “Who exactly are you, may I ask?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” the stranger answered, looking quite abashed, and Mary decided then that he was no danger to her. “Antonin Dolohov, I’m your neighbor. I’ve been looking after plants around the house and in the back garden. Well, what there is of a garden. These townhomes really just have more of a patio.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said, smiling. “And Mary is fine, or ma’am if you really must. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you. Did you live here before the coronation?”

“No, Your - no, ma’am,” Mr. Dolohov replied. “I just moved here about a year and a half ago. From Manchester.”

“And you’ve been looking after my plants the whole time?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed.

“That’s very kind of you,” Mary said, smiling again. “Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Dolohov?”

“I would love one,” he agreed. “And Antonin will do, ma’am, if you don’t mind.”

“Well if I’m to call you Antonin, you should certainly call me Mary,” she teased, leading the way to the dingy kitchen.

“If you like.”

Mary made the tea in a comfortable silence as Antonin examined the photographs that hung on her wall. Scenes from her travels with Sirius mostly, though there were a few that predated her. It was a very domestic scene, the likes of which she did not often see at the palace. She tried to discreetly sneak a few glances at her companion, noting the way the muscles in his shoulders tensed as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

“May I ask what brought you back to Grimmauld Place?” Antonin asked, turning away from the photographs. “I don’t remember you stopping in once since I’ve lived next door.”

“I’m not really sure why,” Mary admitted, sitting down at the heavy wooden table and placing two cups of tea in front of them. “I suppose I thought I might find something in the way of answers or explanation here. It’s been rather a trying few days.”

“He’s having an affair, isn’t he?” Antonin asked, though his knowing tone suggested it was more of a statement than a question. “Your husband, that is.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said, shocked by his insight.

“You said it with your eyes,” he replied, his gaze locking on her with an intensity that made her want to squirm.

Mary was quiet for a minute, trying to decide what to say. This man was a complete stranger, and yet she felt an odd attraction to him. He seemed trustworthy and something about him just made her want to tell him all her secrets and let her emotions flow freely.

“Yes, he is,” she admitted, looking down at the table in embarrassment. Somehow, she felt as though she were admitting a failure of her own, rather than an offense of Sirius’. “I don’t know the particulars - who, how long. I don’t even know if it’s common knowledge. Evidently my private secretary knew, but then again it is his job to manage the calendar, so perhaps it isn’t entirely surprising that he would be in the loop.”

“And how are you faring, Mary?” Antonin asked, his warm, gentle gaze still searching her expression for any sign of her feelings.

“Truthfully?” she said, and he nodded his encouragement. “Half the time I pretend that I’m fine. I assume that the phrase ‘fake it til you make it’ exists for a reason.”

“And the other half the time?”

“I don’t even bother,” Mary said, sadness colouring her voice.

“That’s terrible,” he replied and she hummed in agreement.

“Have you ever experienced a partner being unfaithful?” she asked, aware that the question was likely impertinent and far too personal to ask a near perfect stranger, and yet she didn’t let that stop her. However formal they were being with each other, she was still the Queen, and people never told her to butt out of their business, even if they wished it.

“Once,” he said, his eyes glazing over as he remembered that time in his life. “It was awful, but at least I didn’t have the whole country watching my relationship fall apart.”

“You know, I really thought Sirius would be the right man for the job,” Mary mused, her eyes drifting to the photographs on the wall. “It’s not easy being married to a queen, but I thought he would be up to the task. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would fall so abysmally short of the mark. But if truth be told, I think my marriage broke the day I put on the crown. And now I’m starting to think that maybe the weight of the crown is just so great that it would crack even the best of marriages, and send imperfect ones crumbling into dust.”

“The right man would be able to take it,” Antonin said, his words sounding something like a pledge. “A good man, a strong man, can withstand any pressure in the world in order to stand by the side of the woman he loves.”

“That’s quite a romantic view of the world,” she replied, privately wondering how someone who had been through the same kind of betrayal as she had could possibly have such a naive and idealistic belief.

“You think I’m foolish,” he stated, smiling gently in amusement.

“In this case, I think foolishness is not the worst trait to have,” she said peaceably. “Although it might leave you rather more apt to heartbreak.”

“I think I would rather be heartbroken a hundred times than close myself off.”

“Certainly something to ponder,” Mary answered, his words striking accord. “Now I think I ought to leave you to your work. I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

“It seems odd to invite you to your own house,” Antonin replied, standing up as she did, “but if you would ever like to have tea again - or perhaps even a full meal - I would be happy to oblige you any time you like. Just send word to number 13.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind, Antonin,” she said.

On her way out of the kitchen, Mary turned back once more for a final look at Antonin. He  was standing by the kitchen table, looking perfectly at home in her husband’s house. Something about him made her heart flutter and squeeze, and the feeling frightened her a little bit. She had only ever felt it once before - with Sirius - and the idea that history could be repeating was positively terrifying. And yet, so enticing. She was tempted to run back to him, to wrap her arms around his neck and feel the weight of him against her.

“I very much hope we will meet again, Mary,” he said, his voice low and quiet. But she didn’t miss the words, or the significant look that he gave her with them. A look that quite plainly seemed to say that her rather confusing feelings were entirely mutual.

o . o . o . o . o

Lunches at Grimmauld Place became a semi-weekly occurrence. Nearly every Thursday, Mary made her way to number 12, entering discreetly through the back gate. Whenever he was able, Antonin would join her, and the two would sit down to a simple lunch in the small kitchen. When they began, they would take turns bringing lunch with them. Mary often brought leftovers of whatever fancy meal the palace chef had made the night before (he always cooked far too much), while Antonin picked up sandwiches from the best deli in London. He preferred anything on Jewish rye, but mostly roast beef, while Mary’s favourite was a classic caprese panini on focaccia. After a while, they began to stock the little kitchen, and occasionally added cooking lunch themselves to the rotation.

They talked about everything - Antonin’s childhood in the Czech Republic, Mary’s engagements and charity, his relationship with his parents, her relationship with Sirius, even Princess Alexandra’s apprehension about starting school. The two strangers became fast friends, and though they both denied it adamantly, there was something else beginning to bloom in these two individuals who were both so alone and neglected.

Nearly three months after their first meeting, as October was settling its autumnal grip into every leaf and breathing a cool crispness into the air, Antonin surprised Mary with a small gift during their weekly lunch. The rose coloured box stood out in sharp contrast against the deep brown mahogany of the table. Mary looked at it with surprise and some apprehension. Why on earth was he giving her a gift?

“It’s not actually for you,” Antonin said, as if reading her thoughts. “It’s for Alexandra.”

“May I see what it is?” Mary asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

“Of course.”

Mary gently lifted the lid off the box, gasping as she saw what was inside. A small round box with ornate blue and gold scrollwork across the pale porcelain sat inside, a positively stunning work of craftsmanship.

“It’s a music box,” Antonin explained unnecessarily. “I had it made specially to play a Czech lullaby. I thought the Princess could use something soothing and calming, a gift from a friend.”

Mary felt gratitude flood her heart, so touched was she by the little gesture. Why should he take such a special interest in her daughter, a child he had never met? But it was a show of the depth of his feelings for her, that he would embrace her daughter with affection and without question. Mary felt herself returning those feelings, discovering for the first time what she had been denying for weeks - just how attached she had become to Antonin.

Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were impossibly soft against hers, and he immediately gave way beneath her, embracing her as if he had only been waiting for a sign that he might do so. Everything about the kiss felt perfect and right, even though a voice in the back of their minds told them that it wasn’t that easy. Mary was still married, with a child, and moreover she was still the Queen and that made things untenably complicated. Pulling away, these thoughts all flooded back to Mary, reminding her of her station and situation.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her fingertips ghosting over her lips as she uttered the words, as if she were trying to seal the feeling of the kiss onto her skin. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just -”

Antonin cut off her words for another kiss, less innocent this time as his fingers wound their way into her long hair. Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself onto her tiptoes and pressing her torso against his. She could feel the heat building between them, and though she longed to give in to it, she pushed away, turning her back to him so she could try to breathe normally.

“Antonin, we can’t,” she said, practically choking on the words that she wished she didn’t have to say.

“Why not?” he challenged, taking a step forward and tentatively placing his hand on her elbow to turn her to face him. “Sirius does? He’s your husband in name only, essentially just for show, so why shouldn’t you find love somewhere else?”

“Is that what this is - love?”

“Isn’t it?” His hazel eyes found her blue ones, locking on. Mary could see the sincerity that was there, all his feelings laid bare in that one glance.

“I…”

“Mary, we can do this,” Antonin assured her. “Nobody would ever have to know. We’re entirely alone during these lunches, not even your guards would know. Just keep coming here every Thursday and be with me.”

“It can’t be that easy,” Mary protested, a war raging between her mind and her heart.

“Why not?”

“Because at some point you’ll want more than just lunches on Thursdays!” she exclaimed. “And so will I. And we can’t have it. There’s no way for us to have a life together, Antonin, so what would be the point of an affair? We would only get hurt in the end.”

“I would get hurt a thousand times over for you,” his whispered, pulling her close again, and his words melted every last bit of Mary’s resolve.

She reached up to kiss him again, slow and steady and trying to convey a certainty in her decision that she didn’t feel. But regardless, there was no going back now.

o . o . o . o . o

“Remind me why you can’t leave him again?” Antonin asked, peppering kisses along Mary’s shoulder.

She was lounging languidly across his lap as music played on the record players, stomach full after a sizeable lunch.

“Because as Queen, I am also the head of the Church, and the Church does not recognize divorce,” Mary recited. “It would create a constitutional crisis if the Church could no longer recognize its leader, don’t you think?”

“I suppose it would,” he sighed heavily. “Can’t have another Henry VIII now can we?”

“That is exactly what we cannot have.”

She gave him a very serious and significant look that only made him dissolve into laughter. He found her positively adorable when she was anxious about a constitutional crisis.

“Do you wish that you could?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair. She didn’t have any engagements, so it was loose for once.

“Leave Sirius? Every day.” She paused, worrying her lip for a minute. “I don’t want to be a cliche. The royal couple who hates each other and only puts up with each other in public. My parents and grandparents both had such happy marriages, and I always wanted to have that too. I just… I don’t want to be miserable.”

“You sound like you’re thinking of giving him another chance?” Antonin said, a hint of anxiety colouring his voice.

Mary was quiet for a long time, trying to decide how best to answer his question.

. - . - .

“Sweetheart, can I speak with you for a moment?”

Mary turned around to find the Queen Mother standing in the doorway to her office. She was dressed up, so Mary assumed she must have been out on an engagement that morning.

“Of course, Mummy, what can I do for you?”

She stood and crossed the room to the two armchairs on the other side, and her mother followed her.

“How are things with Sirius?” the Queen Mother asked as Mary quickly rang for tea.

“Oh, um,” Mary stalled, surprised by the question. “They’ve been better, I suppose. We’ve been a little distant lately.”

“Are you concerned that he’s with someone else?”

“I’m not concerned, Mummy, I know he is,” she admitted, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. It was embarrassing that her husband was involved with someone else, it made her feel like a failure.

“That’s not good,” her mother mused, tutting quietly.

Mary snorted, earning her a glare from her mother.

“Sweetheart, there are numerous problems with this situation, not least of all the optics of it,” the Queen Mother continued. “But more importantly, the issue of heirs.”

Mary opened her mouth to reply, but her mother steamrolled past her. In some ways, it would never matter that she was Queen. She would always be her mother’s daughter.

“You and Sirius have only produced one child thus far,” she said, the practicality of someone bred to be a consort shining through her words, “and Alexandra is nearly five now. People are beginning to wonder why. And of course it's important that you have more than one heir. What if something should happen to Alexandra? Then what?”

“Well I suppose Annie would be in luck,” Mary sighed, rolling her eyes as she referenced her younger sister. “And please don’t talk about something happening to my daughter. She’s young and healthy and nothing is going to happen to her.”

“I know it’s unpleasant to think about, but that’s the reality,” her mother pressed.

“She’s my daughter.”

“No, she’s your heir,” her mother countered sternly. “If you want a daughter, you better have another baby.”

Mary glared back at her mother, hating the words that she had said. She didn’t want it to be true, didn’t want to live in that world, but she knew her mother had a point. Eventually, Alexandra would stop being a little kid and start being her successor, and Mary knew from centuries of history that monarchs had very difficult relationships with their heirs. How do you fully love someone whose life only starts when you die?

. - . - .

“Mary?” Antonin prompted, looking at her expectantly.

“It has nothing to do with Sirius, but…” she paused, searching for the right words. “My mother thinks that I need to have another child. Obviously that could only be with Sirius.”

“And do you want another kid?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m not sure - we always planned on having multiple children. That was the expectation, after all,” Mary answered. “But then my father got sick, and then the coronation, and now…”

“And now you’re both involved with other people.”

“Yes.” Mary was quiet for a moment before she continued. “My mother reminded me that a queen can be a mother in the true sense of it with a second child, in a way that she can’t with the first.”

“But you love your daughter,” he said, clearly confused.

“Of course I do! But… it’s different. It’s hard to explain.”

“Is there no way you could have a baby with me?” Antonin asked, his expression filled with desperation to give her everything she wanted.

“I… don’t think so,” she answered, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked at the disappointment on her lover’s face. “Not this baby, at least. I need at least one more child in line for the throne. After that, maybe...if Sirius were to agree...but then things would get too complicated again, Antonin. I told you this in the beginning. It can never be more than this.”

“If that’s what you want,” he replied, smiling sadly.

“It’s not what I want, but it’s how things are.” Mary reached up to caress his cheek lovingly. “Let’s not think about this anymore, alright? It doesn’t matter right now, Sirius hasn’t shown any interest in being with me in months.”

She snuggled against his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily away. It was reassuring, but also alarming. Mary was becoming far too accustomed to the feel of his body against hers, and soon she might start to feel his absence more than she was ready for.

o . o . o . o . o

Mary was lying in the bed upstairs - not the bed she had once shared with Sirius, that was too far and she refused - with the sheets swirled luxuriously against her bare skin, while Antonin prepared lunch in the kitchen. She was musing idly on the thorough satisfaction she felt, and how happy she was in that moment, when she heard the front door slam.

She bolted upright, her heart racing as she grabbed her dress and pulled it on, forgoing all undergarments in her haste. Antonin would never jeopardize their privacy by creating such a racket, which meant that someone else had arrived. Mary raced down the stairs, bare feet flying on ancient carpeting, until she reached the bottom and nearly collided with her husband.

“Sirius!” she exclaimed in surprise, her heart hammering against her ribs. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he roared, his temper already flaring. “And in my house no less! There is very little that I possess that isn’t yours, but this house… this house is mine!”

“Sirius, what -?” Mary began, even though she knew that it was worthless to feign innocence. They both knew exactly what they were talking about.

“I know!” he shouted. “I know about the affair!”

At that moment, Antonin appeared at the top of the steps that lead down to the kitchen, standing quietly, but imposingly, in the background.

“Look who’s talking,” Mary hissed, irritated by his anger. “I know that you’ve been with other women for months now. Heavens knows how many.”

“Just one,” he replied, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. “It’s just Marlene, no one else, I swear.”

“You love her,” Mary stated, his feelings obvious in the way he said her name.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said sincerely. He was sorry for hurting her, sorry for the affair, sorry for falling out of love with her and in love with someone else.

“It’s okay,” she replied.

An air of forgiveness passed between them. Mary suddenly felt that she understood Sirius, and that the anger she had been harboring toward him for months had dissipated. She understood him, and she knew that his actions had never been malicious. She was in the same boat, and neither of them really could have helped where they ended up.

“We were just about to have lunch,” she said, smiling welcomingly. “Why don’t you join us, there are some things I think we should discuss.”

Sirius squinted at her, not sure what needed discussion but sure that he didn’t like the sound of it. Any conversation about their present situation was bound to get complicated. Nevertheless, he followed her and Antonin down to the kitchen and watching as his wife’s beau hastily set another place using his china and tried not to let it irritate him.

“So, what is it you want to talk about?” Sirius asked, once they were all seated at the wood table.

“I’m not sure what to do.”

“About what?” he pressed.

“I want another child,” Mary blurted out, not quite as eloquently as she had planned. She could see the surprise on Sirius’ face and it was almost comical. “And we need another heir. I know it’s not ideal, for anyone really, but…”

“So you want me to what - be a stud horse?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“Not a horse, no, just yourself,” Mary scoffed.

“Well that bit I can’t help,” he replied salaciously, unable to resist the innuendo.

Mary rolled her eyes at his lewd joke, but she didn’t miss the way Antonin’s grip tightened on his fork.

“Don’t be a prat,” she warned. “I’m being perfectly serious here.”

“What does loverboy think about all this?” Sirius said, leaning his chair back on two legs and interlacing his fingers behind his head.

“It’s not going to be easy, but I didn’t fall in love with her blindly,” Antonin answered, having taken the time to think about their situation since Mary first brought the subject up to him. “I knew exactly who she was, and what the complications could be.”

“Let’s face it: none of us are ever gonna have a happy, normal relationship,” Sirius mused, half amused and half disappointed. “So we have a baby and then what?”

“Then we stay together publicly, but in private we live separate lives,” Mary stated, trying to sound more confident in this plan than she felt. “We’ll be friends - parent as friends, but we’ll each be free to live our lives with the people we love.”

“And what if people find out?” Sirius asked. “Don’t you think it’ll cause a scandal?”

“I think that we can be… openly private about the whole thing?” Mary said thoughtfully, biting her lip as she chose her words. “We don’t exactly try to hide it, but we don’t acknowledge it either. I think it could work if we’re discreet. There’ll be some surprise and a bit of talk at the start, but eventually things will quiet down.”

“You’re sure about this?” Antonin asked, the concern for Mary that was evident in his features softening Sirius’ opinion of him slightly.

“It’s the only way,” she shrugged, far more nonchalant than she really felt. But Antonin knew that when they were alone again she would show him more of how she felt and let him comfort her in all the confusion.

“So, are we all agreed then?” Sirius said. “Because I should probably go talk to Marlene about all of this. I doubt she’d be pleased if she found out about this plan from a pregnancy announcement in the papers.”

“Go, Sirius, we’ll be fine.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he added, sincerity enveloping his words for a brief moment. “This is going to be much harder for the two of you.”

“I’ll see you at the palace,” Mary said dismissively. “Don’t forget that tomorrow is your turn to drop Alexandra off at school.”

Sirius saluted in acknowledgement before bounding up the stairs, and a minute later they heard the door shut loudly. Mary sagged a little, letting Antonin see her worry.

“Do you think he’s right?” she asked tentatively, leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder.

“That this will be harder for us?” he clarified. “Well, I don’t think it’ll be a walk in the park to watch you carry another man’s child. And there will be plenty of… restrictions on what we can do until the whole this is over, while Sirius can go back to Marlene at the end of every day. So yeah, I think that until the baby is born, it’s going to be much harder on us.”

Mary swallowed, tears pricking her eyes, desperately wishing she didn’t want this.

“Hey, it’ll only be a few months though,” Antonin reassured her, whispering the words against her skin as he peppered her with kisses. “And you know what, after the baby is here, we get the best part. We get to be together and have a family, and sure Sirius might be involved but we’ll be the principle caregivers. It’ll be our family, all the time.”

Mary smiled, picturing Antonin living in her palace apartment, two little children running around, a normal little family. There was a way for this all to work out, she had to believe it. They might not have normal relationships, but she refused to give up on the idea of being happy.

[ukulelewrites]

thank u, next

A/N: am i whipped for one (1) kangaroo leader???????? maybe lol but i’m on break rn for cranberry season and i whipped up this fic after listening to this song on repeat for a kajibillion hours. i’m thinking of making this a two part series? or should i keep the ending as is? or do y’all want more of this dynamic???? lmk what yall think!!! Also if anyone can tell what the song skz is singing hmu

Pairing: Stray Kids’ Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Pop Star!Reader x Rock Star!Chan/Exes AU

Word Count: 5.4k 

Thought I’d end up with Han / But he wasn’t a match,

Wrote some songs about Hyunjin / Now I listen and laugh,

These words flowed through the car stereo late at night as Chan found himself kissing some random girl he met at the nightclub. She kept her hands clutching tightly to his leather jacket, and he smirked as she let out another sigh.

Even almost got married / And for Chan I’m so thankful,

Wish I could say “thank you” to Felix / Cause he was an angel,

Chan froze once he heard his name coming from the stereo. “What’s wrong, babe?” the girl, who’s name had slipped his mind, asked.

He dropped his shocked expression and slipped back into his normal cocky facade. “Nothing, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he reassured her, leaning down to ghost his lips against hers, Now, where were we?”

One taught me love / One taught me regret

One taught me pain / Now, I just can’t forget

You had not expected such an explosive reaction to your newest single, but here you were, scrolling down your Twitter feed to the endless tweets gushing over “thank u, next.”

“Darling! You’ve done it once again!” your manager exclaimed as she burst into your dressing room, “I’m getting calls after calls asking you to come onto talk shows, radio shows, award shows, the whole shebang!”

“I’m glad to see you’re so excited about this, Melissa,” you teased, “I haven’t seen you this happy since you’ve met Chris Evans.”

“Now, as much as I love that man, I love you much more, my little songbird,” she sang as she booped your nose. “Did you hear what they’re calling this? ‘Pop Princess turned Pop Queen!’ God how I love the press! They’re eating this whole thing up!”

“I guess they didn’t expect me to release such an honest song,” you replied, still scrolling through your feed.

“Of course they didn’t! Who knew innocent ‘Somni’ would pull a Taylor Swift and drop a song about her exes? And name them too? No other artist has done that before!”

“I’m pretty sure I wrote that song about my self-growth, Melissa, not just to highlight I dated those guys.”

“Of course, darling. Now, why don’t we get you all dolled up for the red carpet? It’s your first public appearance as the ‘new’ you!” She let out a squeal before running out to grab your stylist and make-up artist.

You giggled at her newfound excitement and looked back down at your phone only to freeze at the headline glaring back you: CHAN CONQUESTS AGAIN? You swallowed down the uneasiness that crept upon you and placed your phone face down. “Get a grip, Y/N. You’re no longer ‘little Ms. Pop Princess,’” you said to yourself, training your eyes firmly on your reflection in the mirror, “and some boy isn’t going to make you revert to that.”

“Now, Somni, how does it feel to be all grown up now?” Amber asked. You laughed at her formality, considering the two of you were close friends, and pretended to ponder upon the answer.

“Honestly, I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you answered, giggling a bit at the eye roll she gives you and the disappointed looks you get from the audience members.

“I can’t believe you’re playing coy with me right now!” she jokingly complained, “I expect answers during my interviews, Y/N, answers!” The audience ooh’d when she used your real name.

“Sorry, Amber, I just don’t get your question! I’ve been a grown up since I turned 18, and that was a while ago.”

“Nuh uh! Somni was not grown up two years ago when she released ‘Wonderland.” Iconic album, but definitely the cookie cutter pop album we’d expected it to be. But this? ‘thank u, next’ completely defies what we expected coming from you! What caused the shift?”

You could practically feel the audience members leaning forward with bated breath. Ever since the song dropped a month ago, the internet had been ablazed with speculation over your music’s sudden shift.

“Well, I guess I was done writing a narrative where I was always the person getting saved,” you said, referring to the long list of love songs you had written in the past, “and I wanted to be the person that saved myself. ‘Monochrome’ is definitely going to show more of that self-love theme that I teased in ‘thank u, next,’ and I’m so happy that everyone has been so supportive of the change!” You gestured towards the audience members, earning a cheer from them, and even acknowledged the camera, knowing many of your fans were also watching at home.

“Amazing. I’m so proud of you for taking that next step in your career,” Amber gushed, earning an ‘awww’ from the audience, “Now, we can’t just ignore what everyone here actually wants to know about.”

You looked at her and quirked a brow. “And what is that?”

“The boys of course! You can’t just name drop them without spilling some tea, sis,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop,” you whined, “why would you even bring them up?” You exaggerated bashfulness by covering your face with your hands.

“C’mon, you name dropped a few big names in that song. Han? The biggest name in the up and coming rap scene right now! Hyunjin? He’s the highest paid male model in the world! Felix? Before his retreatment from the scene, he was the most well-known actor of his time!”

“Well, they helped build me into the person I am today. I didn’t think anything more of it,” you replied diplomatically.

“And we cannot leave out the biggest bombshell from that song: Chan, the lead guitarist of SKZ, which is, by the way to anyone watching who have been living under a rock for the past year, the biggest rock band on the scene right now! Who knew you were into the bad boy type, Somni? And you almost married the guy too!”

You let out an airy chuckle, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yeah, we were young and in love. A risky combination if you ask me,” you joked, eliciting laughter from your audience.

“C’mon, Somni, you gotta give us something!” Amber pleaded.

“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” you jested, “especially not to the thousands of people who watch your show!” The audience whined at your statement, and you only flashed them an apologetic smile.

“But seriously, how did the bright-eyed, princess of the pop world end up almost married to the biggest playboy rock star on the scene right now?” Amber goaded.

“We were different at the time, Ambs. Life just happened to end up this way,” you replied cryptically. She tsked at your unwillingness to spill everything, but she retreated from the topic.

“Anyways, focusing back on you, I heard you’ll be performing at the American Music Awards, and you’re premiering your new single’s music video during it? That’s huge!”

“Yeah, ‘Without Me’ is getting a music video. Stan Twitter, this one’s for y’all!” you exclaimed, shooting finger guns towards the camera.

“And you’re album is dropping tonight right?”

“Exactly at midnight! I hope everyone can listen to it. I know it’s my favorite and most intimate album to date, and I hope everyone enjoys it to!”

“Well that looks like all the time we have with Somni tonight, folks. Check out her new album, ‘Monochrome,’ dropping tonight at midnight!”

You were back in your New York City penthouse, finally away from the hustle and bustle that came with album promotions. A small sigh escapes past your lips as you submerged yourself into the warm, bubbly bath water. You rested your head against the tub and looked up at the ceiling, finding yourself slipping away into your memories.

“What do you think about this chord, songbird?” Chan asked, strumming a jumbled mess of notes on his guitar. He got a scrunched up nose and a ball of sheet music thrown at his face as an answer. “Just teasing you,” he pouted, scooting over on the couch to look over your shoulder.

“I know you are, but I’m trying to focus right now,” you grumbled, pushing your glasses back up your nose and scrunching your eyebrows together. Your pencil was still flying across the page, putting down notes and rests and lyrics.

“Why don’t you take a break,” he asked sweetly, “focus on,” he leaned his head down to nip at the sensitive skin on your neck, “something else?” You stilled your hand for a split second, and Chan thought he had finally broken through, but you just shrugged him off and went straight back to work.

“This is my first album after debuting, Chan. I can’t just put it off. I need to come back with good music,” you sighed. He looked on worriedly as you ran your fingers through your hair once again and let out another huff of air.

“Songbird.” His hands found themselves on your waist, and he hoisted you onto his lap. You didn’t struggle and leaned back into his arms. “Sometimes you just,” he pressed feather-light kisses against your neck after each word, “need a little distraction,” once he found your sweet spot, you knew you were gone, “or some inspiration,” you let out a soft groan when he lightly bit down on your flesh, “like how well I’m going to-”

BRRRING! BBBRRRIING!

“Sorry, babe,” you mumbled, leaning down to scoop your phone off the floor. “Let me take this, and I promise you we’ll get back to where we left off.” Chan just waved you off, but you had missed how his eyes trailed after your retreating frame lovingly. If only you had seen that.

You knew you were over your past relationships. Each one ended, relatively resolved, and tucked away in your memory box. You and Han ended things after six months due to busy schedules. Hyunjin was dropped after 4 months when you realized you needed someone to fulfill a deeper, emotional need. Felix disappeared from the scene a year into your relationship, and you just assumed it was over when he stopped replying to your texts. And Chan — your eyebrows furrowed at the thought of him.

You could never really pinpoint where things went wrong with him. It was a flurry of you falling too fast for someone who never really reciprocated back and diving right in when he proposed to you 2 years into the relationship. A wry smile graced your lips when you recalled the realization that had dawned on you two months into the engagement. “He never said ‘I love you’ sober,” you mused as you continued to soak in the bath. You knew that he was tucked in a box just like the other boys, but a small voice in the back of your head continued to pull at the ribbon that kept his box shut.

“Somni, you are absolutely stunning tonight!” the interviewer gushed as she gestured towards your fitted maroon suit jacket and tight cream pants outfit.

“Why thank you so much!” you beamed.

“I must say, this is probably a huge night for you,” she said, “How does it feel to be one of the main focuses of the night?”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘main focuses,’ but I am so excited to perform tonight and reveal the music video for the new single, ‘Without You!’”

“Speaking of ‘Without You,’ it is easily my favorite song from ‘Monochrome!’”

“Stop! You’re just being polite,” you teased.

“No! I seriously love how raw you sounded in the song. I honestly felt the pain in your voice,” she said. “Plus, it was quite fun trying to figure out which of the exes this one was about.” She gave you an over exaggerated wink, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

“Well, I hope you don’t expect me to tell you who,” you retorted, “It was lovely talking to you!”

After you bid her goodbye, you continued walking down the red carpet, stopping every now and then to pose for the camera and wave towards your fans. You also stopped every now and then to talk to some other artists and congratulate them for their nominations. In the midst of your conversation with Jaime, a deafening cheer from the hoard of fangirls came crashing into your ears. You looked behind you and saw SKZ getting out of their limo and beginning to walk down the red carpet. It was a blatant understatement to say Chan looked good. Even after accepting your failed relationship as it is, you were still capable of addressing that the guy looked fine. You dared not to stare for too long, since there were cameras everywhere focused on you, but you took a mental snapshot of Chan with his, newly dyed, blond hair swept up to reveal his forehead, adorned with a leather jacket thrown over a, teasingly, tight white button up and torn black skinnies, and the trademark devil may care attitude that seemed to wash off of him in waves.  A flash of light followed by a click pulled you out of your trance, and you refocused your attention back on Jaime. “Where did we leave off?” you asked sweetly, planting back on your trademarked smile.

The stage lights were pulsing, and the roar of the crowd became almost deafening around you. It had been a long night of dancing, singing along to the performers on stage, and afflicting yourself to pain whenever you had to trek onto the stage in your heels to present or accept an award. The camera seemed to love you as it continued to film you and Jaime as the two of you bounced up and down, both of you ditching your heels at that point, to the artists on stage and lip-syncing like your lives depended on it. However, you noticed the camera lingering on you longer than usual, and you sent the cameraman a playful quirk of the eyebrow. That was when Jaime pointed towards the main stage.

“SKZ is about to perform,” she explained, keeping a hand on your arm comfortingly.

“Awesome! I heard they’re performing a never heard before single,” you said back, trying to keep your expression upbeat for the camera.

The brief break ended, and all cameras trained their focus onto the side stage where the host stood. “Revealing a brand new single for the first time, here are the heartthrobs of SKZ with ‘Moving Along!’” they exclaimed.

Chan began to strum a steady rhythm, and a lump formed in your throat when you noticed the songbird sticker still stuck to the bright, red body of his guitar. The song was definitely more chill compared to their older, “edgier” releases, but you liked the lazy feel of the bass, the driving force of the rhythmic guitar, and the lax attitude the guys took on as they sang into the mics.

Been thinking bout you lots lately / Have you been feeling empty beds just like me?

I’ve been thinking bout you lots, lately / Or are you moving along?

You couldn’t help but chant along to the chorus, ignoring the weird feeling you got from the lyrics.

Is it wrong if I ask you to come over? / Is it wrong if I told you that I love ya?

Even though I never do it when I’m sober / Is it wrong? So wrong

That lyric struck a chord in you, but you continued to plaster on your smile and dance along to the song, keeping up a show for the camera. “If I wrote a break-up song, I guess he can too,” you mused.

The neon lights flashed to the bass that vibrated throughout the entire nightclub. You found yourself retreated to one of the side booths, scrolling on your phone to look at all the feedback you got back for the “Without Me” music video. It was amusing to see the internet freak out over, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of commentary on the music video’s aesthetic, which you had painstakingly curated, instead the buzz seemed to be around who the music video alluded to. Was the song about Chan? Definitely. You wrote it shortly after your split with him, and it sat in your drafts for a good year before your management pulled it out, dusted it off, and polished it up to be the second single for “Monochrome.” Was the purpose of the song to demonize Chan? Hell no. It was just to help you heal, help you get over such a harsh fall from cloud 9. You disappeared from the music scene for a good year to recuperate because being with him was like a firework. It built up and heated up and kept you enthralled, but it ended so quickly and left messes behind. It just happened to be that you were the mess that was left behind.

“Where were you?” you asked, too tired to put any emotion in your words anymore.

Chan looked at your sitting frame on the couch in shock. Well, as much shock as a drunk man could muster. “What’re you doing still up?” he slurred.

“Where. Were. You?”

“Out with the guys. Celebrating the new album’s release, the usual.” Chan’s brows furrowed. The tone of your voice took a complete 180 from what he was used to. “What’s wrong, songbird?” He walked up to you to try and get some shred of the usual warmth you emitted, but he was abruptly stopped when you stood up and held up a hand in between the two of you.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You had no clue where your iciness came from, but it wasn’t hard to assume it accumulated over the past two months of your engagement. The past two months where you were planning the wedding alone in your apartment’s kitchen with the company of a glass of wine while Chan is out every night getting shit-faced with who knows who?

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” he pleaded, trailing behind you to the shared bedroom. You replied with silence, keeping your pace steady and your face still. You knew if you spoke, your voice would’ve wavered. “Y/N?”

God, he sounded so broken and confused. It took your all not to spin around and wrap your arms around him like everything was okay. But it had been months of his lack of attention, affection (unless he was absolutely desperate), and affirmation. Your revelation had been when you were sitting on the living room floor, writing a song about him as a surprise present for him during the wedding. However, in your fit of brainstorming, it came to your realization he hasn’t told you he loved you since the engagement. He hasn’t sat down with you and helped with the planning. He hasn’t been home most nights to hold you in his arms at night. The sudden distant behaviour led you to thinking: maybe he didn’t want this at all. Maybe he didn’t want you at all.

You were in the bedroom now, and you grabbed the giant duffel bag you had packed earlier and spun around to leave as quickly as you could.

“You’re leaving me?” he asked, “Why are you leaving?” You pushed past him without a word, but he grabbed your arm and spun you around to face him. “Y/N, talk to me.”

“Let me go, Chan.” God, you were too tired to drag this out any longer.

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!” Chan spat back.

“I’m leaving you! That’s what’s ‘going on!’ I’m finally doing what’s right for me and leaving your sorry ass behind!” you screamed.

“What the hell did I do?” He was getting angrier now. “I just got home, and you’re already being a pissy little bitch!”

Your glare hardened at his last word. “Really now? You’re calling me a ‘bitch?’ Maybe I have a reason to be one,” you got right up into his face, “considering you’ve been an awful fiance for the past two months! You haven’t helped with any of the planning! You have barely been home at all lately! And we haven’t had a proper conversation in ages! I’m so tired of being strung along and left out to dry!”

“Maybe if you weren’t nagging me all the damn time, I’d stay home! Don’t you know how annoying it gets when I get home from the studio and the first thing I hear is your fucking voice telling me to pick out a goddamn flower arrangement?” he seethed, “If I knew you were this annoying, I would’ve never proposed.”

You had kept your indignant stare trained on his face the entire time, but at that last sentence you tore your gaze away and pulled your arm out of his grasp. “Would’ve never proposed, huh?” you parroted humorlessly, trying to smother down the lump forming in your throat and the tears swelling in your eyes. “Yeah, I wish you never did too.” You turned away to hide the tears slowly streaming down your cheeks and just started walking away.

“Wait, Y/N, songbird, I didn’t mean that,” Chan said, following after you, “You know that I love you.”

You spun around quickly and sent him a spurned look. “Do I? When was the last time you told me you loved me? When was the last time you held me? When was the last time you helped me? You don’t love me. You probably,” you choked up, “never did.”

“No, Y/N, I swear, I swear to God, I love you. I promise you I’ll be better,” he begged.

“Can you tell me that tomorrow when you’re sober?” you asked wryly. Chan just looked at you pleadingly, practically begging you to stay. “I’m done being another body that keeps you warm at night. Goodbye, Chan.” And just like that, you were out of his life.

You blinked back the tears that crept up and began putting back on your “Somni” mask, smiling brightly and cheerfully at everyone. Jaime and some of your other artist friends were lost to the beat, dancing away the night in the middle of the room. You were a solid two steps away from joining them before halting when you made eye contact with Chan. He was still dressed in that ridiculously fitted white button-up, and his hair had become messier, with strands falling down to grace his face. He was dancing with some girl; his hands on her waist as she kept her back firmly pressed against his chest, but his eyes were trained on you. If it was past-you in present-you’s position, you would’ve probably ran out of the room trying not to let tears spring from your eyes. But this is present-you, the one who spent a year healing and coming out of the wreckage stronger. You gave him a brief smile before turning away and walking towards the exit. “I think I’m done for the night,” you thought to yourself, “That’s enough excitement for a day.”

Chan woke up again to a cold bed. He groggily turned onto his side and glared at the bright red numbers that told him he was, once again, late to a meeting with management. “Great,” he said, falling back onto his back, “I couldn’t get any last night. I ran into my ex. And now I’m fucking late to a meeting.” The day hasn’t even started yet, and it’s already the worst day of his life. He grumbled and groaned some more before getting out of bed and stumbling to the drawer to find a clean shirt and pair of jeans. “When the fuck were you so soft, Chan?” he asked himself while digging around for socks. He would’ve usually never be affected like shit like this, but ever since you released that song he hasn’t been able to think of anyone but you. Every single girl he tried to bring back to his place ended in absolutely nothing because you keep plaguing his mind. Every single radio station he goes to ends up playing your song. And now his band’s highest selling single is the song he wrote about you. It was like he could never escape, and he was so fucking tired of it.

“Glad you could join us, Chan,” his manager said sarcastically.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “long night.” His bandmates looked at him sympathetically; almost everyone could tell Somni’s latest album was affecting him more than he’d want to let on.

“Anyways, we’ve generated such a good buzz around the upcoming album with all this ‘ex-lovers’ gossip, the company thought it’d be good to accept an offer for a special interview on Amber’s talk show,” the manager started cautiously.

“What kind of interview?” Chan asked.

“With you and Somni.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chan seethed. “We’re ancient history! The public wouldn’t have cared this much if she didn’t release that stupid song and name-drop me.”

“But they care now, and bottom line, everyone knows you wrote ‘Moving Along’ about her. Do this interview and you boys are projected to break the Top 10 of album sales for 2018.”

“So we’re exploiting me for album sales?” Chan sneered.

“You signed up for this life, rock star. Don’t tell me you’re backing down because of some girl? Thought the two of you were ancient history?”

Chan studied his manager hard before gruffly agreeing to the interview, “If it gets you off my case.”

“So this isn’t awkward at all right?” Amber asked midway through the interview. You politely waved off her worry even though you could practically cut the tension between you and Chan with a knife. “Awesome,” she exclaimed, “Now let’s get to the juicy stuff. How did the two of you meet? Considering both of you are so freaking famous, how did no one know about this relationship???”

“Simple,” Chan plastered on his “rock star” persona quickly, leaning into the leather couch and easily placing his arm behind your head, “We figured out how to avoid the press after all of our years in the spotlight. Plus, it wasn’t hard for me to approach her; she was this bright-eyed, newly debuted pop princess completely left alone at an after party bar. I figured I might as well grace her with my company and from there it’s history.”

If he can put on his persona, I can too.

“If I remember correctly, I told you to buzz off when you offered to buy me a drink,” you said with a quirked eyebrow. The audience ooh’d at that, completely drinking up your newfound HBIC attitude.

“Looks like our pop princess is gone,” Amber joked, riling up the audience a bit more.

“But then you took a complete 180 when you ran into me tipsy into the alleyway outside the club,” Chan retorted, a playful smirk gracing his features.

Before you could stop yourself, you softly smiled at the memory and agreed. Chan was 100% taken aback by your change in demeanor. The queen-esque Somni facade was replaced by the Y/N he remembered waking up to every morning. If he wasn’t on camera right now, he would’ve definitely melted.

The moment was interrupted by Amber. “Wait, what happened? Y’all can’t leave us hanging like that!”

The soft expression left your face as quickly as it came and you settled back into your camera-self. “You know I don’t kiss and tell, Ambs,” you teased, “And I hope Chan here knows better and doesn’t either!” The audience laughed at your jest.

“Fine, but you can’t spend this entire time not giving us anything!”

“I can’t believe you told them the kitten story!” Chan exclaimed as the two of you lounged in the break room.

“What? They wanted some sort of tea, so I gave them an adorable story about the time you tried to ‘save’ a ‘stray,’ and it turned out you catnapped our neighbour’s cat!” You broke out into giggles at the memory of it all. All the tension between the two of you eased away somehow throughout the interview, and here you were now, sitting on the break room couch waiting for your ride while sharing memories with your ex-fiance.

“Okay, how was I supposed to know Benjamin already had an owner? He didn’t have a collar on him!”

“You can’t call the kitten Benjamin, Chan. It’s name was Spot, and we ran into it every day when Mr. Jameson went outside to collect the mail with the kitten trailing behind him.”

“Fine! I admit I just wanted a pet,” he said with a pout. Laughter fills the air, and it seemed like the clock had been turned back, like it was you and Chan on your couch at 3am sharing stories with each other. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of you.

“Do you miss this sometimes?” he asked out of the blue. You were taken aback by how serious he sounded.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I miss this.” He said it so nonchalantly that you almost missed it.

“Why would you?” you teased, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Because I love you.”

You didn’t know how to process that confession. You didn’t know how to respond to that confession. Hell, you didn’t even know he had it in him to drop that confession. You awkwardly chuckled, trying to diffuse the sudden surge of emotions running in your mind, “C’mon, you never really loved me, Chan. It’s all the media stuff getting to your head.” You tried waving it off while also trying to ward off the sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

“No, Y/N, I do love you. I loved you then, and I was an asshat for never telling you. But I was an idiot then who had no idea what love was. I hopped from girl to girl every single night until I met you. I dropped on one knee so fast and you said yes, and that’s when I realized that I was in no way shape or form good enough for you, and instead of facing it and trying to become better for you, I ran away and drove away the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me. And I’m so fucking sorry for what my drunkass self said to you that night because it never said what I really wanted to say, ‘Stay. I’m sorry. I love you. Forgive me.’’

The air was getting heavier and you found it getting difficult to breath.

“But I swear, Y/N, on my heart, on my guitar, on my band, I love you, and I’m so sorry for not being the man you deserved.”

And that was when the dam opened. You just started bawling. It was like every single ounce of pain and sadness you bottled up after that break up, every ounce you poured into your music so you could pretend to be strong and move on, came rushing out. In your tears, you didn’t notice when Chan wrapped his arms around you. Taken over by muscle memory, you burrowed your face into his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso. He ran his fingers through your hair and rubbed your back reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m sorry for always making you cry, but I’ll be here for you now. I swear.”

Even then, with him comforting you and speaking so genuinely to you, you didn’t know what to make of the situation. Should you shut this down now or risk crushing your heart again just to give him a second chance? Chan took notice of your sudden stillness.

“Y/N? You alright?” He pulled himself away from you to study your face. “Y/N?”

“Chan,” you whispered, “I-” With a surge of stupid impulse, you grabbed Chan by the shirt and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips harshly against his. Like many times before, Chan’s hands find themselves gripping onto your waist before pulling you onto his lap. All caution was thrown to the wind when your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging at the strand slightly whenever you found him pulling back. “Babe, give me more,” you mumbled, pressing yourself even closer to him.

“Wait, Y/N, maybe we should-”

“Please, Chan? Please?” you begged, peppering kissing down his neck, “Just this once?”

At the sound of your whine, Chan flips you onto the couch, so he’s hovering above you. “Who said anything about ‘once?’”

asjdfkl so yeah, thoughts on a part 2??????? I kinda wanted to flesh out more of their backstory and maybe see what happens next?? and kinda wanted to delve in further into the other exes but then i realized it would’ve been wayyyyyyy too much and i apologize for all the freakishly long fics i write OTL also lmk if you know what skz in this fic sings bc yall a real one if yall do !!!

[i-breathe-therefore-i-read]

Beautiful Bastard Series by Christina Lauren

An ambitious intern. A perfectionist executive. And a whole lot of name calling. Whip-smart, hardworking, and on her way to an MBA, Chloe Mills has only one problem: her boss, Bennett Ryan. He's exacting, blunt, inconsiderate—and completely irresistible. A Beautiful Bastard. Bennett has returned to Chicago from France to take a vital role in his family's massive media business. He never expected that the assistant who'd been helping him from abroad was the gorgeous, innocently provocative—completely infuriating—creature he now has to see every day. Despite the rumors, he's never been one for a workplace hookup. But Chloe's so tempting he's willing to bend the rules—or outright smash them—if it means he can have her. All over the office. As their appetites for one another increase to a breaking point, Bennett and Chloe must decide exactly what they're willing to lose in order to win each other.

*What I thought: 4 out of 5 stars

read: 6/19

It’s so trashy and a bad representation of how a relationship works but I couldn’t stop reading it. I was addicted to it. lol

There was definitely some things Bennett did, I was not okay with. He’s the type  of man I want to stay far away from. Chloe doesn’t put up with his BS so I guess that’s why they work. It’a such a weird relationship. I mean there was cute moments between them but mostly it was just mainly panty ripping sex. What’s up with that fetish anyway? Cute underwear is expensive and I would be pissed if someone kept doing that!

I liked how it ended. Their relationship was a lot better than how it started. 

Just when Chloe’s career starts to take off, Bennett wishes it would all slow down long enough to spend a wild night alone with his girlfriend. But after he refuses to take no for an answer, Chloe and Bennett find themselves with two plane tickets, one French Villa, and a surprising conversation that, predictably, leaves them wrestling under the covers. 

*What I thought: 3 out of 5 stars

read: 7/19

I thought this was just okay. Honestly I wished I didn't buy it or read it because I don't think it added more to the characters. I did like it showed a glimpse of Max.

Escaping a cheating ex, finance whiz Sara Dillon’s moved to New York City and is looking for excitement and passion without a lot of strings attached. So meeting the irresistible, sexy Brit at a dance club should have meant nothing more than a night’s fun. But the manner—and speed—with which he melts her inhibitions turns him from a one-time hookup and into her Beautiful Stranger. The whole city knows that Max Stella loves women, not that he’s ever found one he particularly wants to keep around. Despite pulling in plenty with his Wall Street bad boy charm, it’s not until Sara—and the wild photos she lets him take of her—that he starts wondering if there’s someone for him outside of the bedroom. Hooking up in places where anybody could catch them, the only thing scarier for Sara than getting caught in public is having Max get too close in private.

*What I thought: 4 out of 5 stars

read: 7/19

I didn’t think anybody could top an underwear fetish but boy was I wrong! Max and Sara were some exhibitionists! I liked Sara’s whole mentality of just having fun because her ex-fiancee was a douche canoe. I loved the moment when Sara realized that he wasn’t a stranger that’ll she’ll never see again. lol

I really liked Max. He was a perfect match for her kinkiness. lol I like that it was Max that was pursuing for more unlike most stories it’s the girl. 

Overall I like the growth of both the characters and their relationship. The only thing that I didn't like was how come password protection was not put on devices?!? Private things wouldn’t have gotten out!! Gah the embarrassment! lol

When Max, Henry, and Will steal Bennett away for a weekend of shenanigans and strippers in Vegas, the first stop of the night doesn’t go at all as planned. With their scheme for a Guys Weekend completely derailed anyway, Max and Bennett begin to play a wild game of stealth and secrecy in order to have their bombshells all over Sin City.

*What I thought: 4.5 out of 5 stars

read: 7/19

I really liked reading their shenanigans in Vegas. Bennett and Max were hilarious with trying to sneak out to find their ladies to have some fun. ;)

A bombshell bookworm. A chronic Casanova. And a lesson in chemistry too scandalous for school. When Hanna Bergstrom receives a lecture from her overprotective brother about neglecting her social life and burying herself in grad school, she’s determined to tackle his implied assignment: get out, make friends, start dating. And who better to turn her into the sultry siren every man wants than her brother’s gorgeous best friend, Will Sumner, venture capitalist and unapologetic playboy? Will takes risks for a living, but he’s skeptical about this challenge of Hanna’s…until the wild night his innocently seductive pupil tempts him into bed- and teaches him a thing or two about being with a woman he can’t forget. Now that Hanna’s discovered the power of her own sex appeal, it’s up to Will to prove he’s the only man she’ll ever need.

*What I thought: 5 out of 5 stars

read: 7/19

So far this is my favorite one! I absolutely loved Hanna and Will. I loved Hanna’s blunt, no filter personality. There was so many things she just spouted out that had my eyes bugging out. I laughed so much at what came out of her mouth lol. I loved how much she tried to do things she normally wouldn’t have.

I couldn’t wait to read about Will because in the past books, he wasn’t really in it. Just little bits. So I was super excited to see how he works. I liked that he wasn’t a complete man whore like his buddies were. He’s a schedule man which I never heard of.

I really loved reading how their relationship blossomed from his best buddy’s kid sister until them getting all hot and heavy. I laughed when Hanna’s family became suspicious of their relationship by calling her by her name and not her nickname. lol

Overall, two thumbs up.

An exasperated bride who just wants to elope. A determined groom whose only focus is getting to the wedding night. And—of course—a whole lot of name calling.

*What I thought: 4 out of 5 stars

read: 7/19

I liked it though Bennett and Chloe are my least favorite of the couples so far. They’re just too intense and angry for my romantic heart lol. I like the shenanigans with Chloe’s aunts lol. I’m so glad I don’t have any ladies like that in my family lol. I laughed so much with what Bennett told them to do. Now after reading this....I really need a story with just George. He’s probably my favorite minor character in any book. He’s so hilarious and I want him to have something too! Whenever he’s in the scene, I wished there was more of him. Give my George!

When Ruby Miller’s boss announces he’s sending her on an extended business trip to New York City, she’s shocked. As one of the best and brightest young engineers in London, she knows she’s professionally up to the task. The part that’s throwing her is where she’ll be spending a month up close and personal working alongside—and staying in a hotel with—Niall Stella, her firm’s top urban planning executive and The Hottest Man Alive. Despite her ongoing crush, Ruby is certain Niall barely knows she’s alive…until their flirty overnight flight makes him sit up and take notice. Not one for letting loose and breaking rules, recently divorced Niall would describe himself as hopeless when it comes to women. But even he knows outgoing California-girl Ruby is a breath of fresh air. Once she makes it her mission to help the sexy Brit loosen his tie, there’s no turning back. Thousands of miles from London, it’s easy for the lovers to play pretend. But when the trip is over, will the relationship they’ve built up fall down?

*What I thought: 3.5 out of 5 stars

read: 7/19

I really liked that Niall was the least experienced out of all the boys in the series. Kinda refreshing when the main guy in the story isn’t a playboy. Every time I read stories of men getting around, all I think of is that they're walking std’s. lol

While I liked Ruby, I also got weirded out on how obsessive she was towards Niall. It got awkward at times. I like how she’s understanding with how Niall is because his ex-wife messed with his head but then at times, she’s pushing for more than he is ready for. Like girl we know you’ve married him in your mind since meeting him and writing his name in your notebook but give the man some time to come to terms with a failed relationship he had for half of his life! 

Completely off topic but why do most romance stories the couples never wear condoms? Like most of these couples in this series seem like they never heard of them or they mention I’ve never done this before with others but want to with their partner. I guess that’s how we know ‘it’s true luv 4ever’ 🙄

One Player tamed. One nerd girl satisfied. And one more major life decision to make. When Will fell for Hanna, her quirky sense of humor and fierce dedication to her career were part of the attraction. (Not to mention her coy newbie attitude toward sex and her willingness to let him teach her everything.) But when the job offers start rolling in for her—and oh, they do—Hanna has trouble deciding what she wants, where they should live, and how much she should burden Will with the decision. Magic between the sheets is only one part of a relationship...getting on the same page is quite another altogether.

*What I thought: 2 out of 5 stars

read: 7/19

I was a little disappointed with this because I love Will and Hanna. I really liked the beginning with them getting married but quickly got bored with reading about Hanna being indecisive with where she wants to work at. I ended up skimming the book.

Oh wait, there was a one scene where the group all drinks together and there was this one part with George getting a kiss he’ll remember forever, that was the best. lol

[ladywinchester1967]

Made to Be Broken

Summary: She’s the President’s daughter and he’s head of her security detail. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Secret Service Dean Winchester x Julianna Mills (OFC, The President’s Daughter)

Word Count: 5104

Warnings: Language, Smut (of the dirty, filthy variety), secrecy, FLUFF (good lord, the fluff came from no where!), mentions of torture, angst, feels, dirty talk, unprotected sex. I think that’s it.  

Square Filled: Secretly Dating

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo the title was inspired by THIS performance of “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls. It resonated with me and I hope that shows in this work (granted, I’ve seen the song performed a million times but for some reason, this one just stuck with me.) Unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine, but the pictures are NOT. I found them on Google, Pinterest and tumblr.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This was wrong, on so many levels. This could get him fired and her publicly shamed; that didn’t stop them however, God himself could have told them to stop and they wouldn’t have listened.

He hiked her skirt up as he flung her panties off as she practically ripped his belt and fly open.

“How long do we have?” She asked as she pulled his pants down

“Twenty minutes?” He asked “Give or take.”

“Better make it quick Winchester,” she told him as she feverishly kissed him “wouldn’t want anyone to come looking for us.”

“You’re with me baby,” he said “NO ONE’S gonna come looking for us.”

He pushed deep inside her as she moaned.

It had started eight months ago; shortly after Dean had been hired on as a member of the Secret Service. They’d first laid eyes on each other a few days before the Presidential Inauguration when they’d been introduced.

“Ma’am, this is Agent Winchester,” The Director of the Secret Service, Bobby Singer, has told her “Agent Winchester, this is Julianna Mills. You’re now assigned as part of her security detail.”

With raven hair, eyes as blue as sapphires; she wore a grey suit with a pencil skirt, a pale pink top poking out from under her suit jacket and t-strap pumps; she had black, winged eyeliner and ruby red lipstick on as well. She gave him a kind, white toothed smile and extended her small, perfectly manicured hand to him.

“Agent Winchester,” She said with a smile “a pleasure.”

Dean flashed her a grin; he looked sharp in a navy blue suit, white shirt and black tie.

“I completely agree.” He told her.

Dean had followed Julianna around like he was supposed to, keeping her moving as her father walked in front of her and her mother.

“Agent Winchester?” She asked him later that night as he walked her to her hotel room door.

“You can call me Dean, if that helps.” He told her and she nodded.

“Dean, how many people have you looked after?” She asked

“Quite a few,” he said “I was a body guard before a decided to join the Secret Service.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?” She asked

He shook his head

“A few well placed kicks and punches usually gets my point across,” he told her “but when I served in the military, yes I did.”

“Can you tell me more about that?” She asked

“Not tonight ma’am,” he said “maybe another time.”

“Why not tonight?” She asked “If you’re going to follow me around I should at least know things about you.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Dean told her “If you don’t give me any trouble, I’ll tell you all about my military career. Deal?”

She stuck her hand out and shook his

“I’m holding you to that.” She told him.

“I know you will ma’am.” He said

“Please, just call me Julie.” She told him and he nodded.

The next day, Dean escorted Julianna to a local children’s hospital that she frequented. She loved to go in and see the kids and read to them; even bringing books she thought they would like. The Secret Service had gone ahead with dogs and made sure the room Julianna would be meeting the kids in was completely secure.

“Dean, we have a problem,” Dean’s brother, Sam, told him “we’ve got media outside and Julianna specifically asked that no media be present.”

“She did?” Dean asked “She didn’t tell me.”

“She told me this morning,” Sam told him “can you get the police or security here to get them to back off?”

“I’m on it,” Dean said and pulled out his phone “I thought it was a good thing for her to be seen doing shit like this.”

“It is,” Sam said as they walked “but she wants to protect the privacy of the kids.”

Dean was slightly thrown off, but nonetheless, made the call and got local police and hospital security on the media. Once they were back on public property, Dean went back to Julianna’s hotel room.

“Why did you tell SAM you didn’t want media presence and not me?” Dean asked, annoyed.

“I thought that’s what I was supposed to do,” Julianna told him “he’s Chief of Staff.”

“But I’m head of YOUR security. I’M the one in charge of YOUR safety, this is the kind of shit I need to know.” Dean told her.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked him, taken aback.

“When someone that isn’t me knows something that involves your safety before I do, yeah I would say that qualifies me to be mad.” He snapped at her.

“I’m sorry!” She shouted at him “I don’t know how this whole security things works! Ever since my Dad got elected, I’m having to answer a million questions and have my every move questioned and I hate it!”

They stared one another down and Dean’s expression softened

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout,” he told her “your safety is my number one priority and when my brother is telling me what I’m supposed to do to protect you, it threw me for a loop.”

She nodded and finished pinning her hair up. She wore a black and grey striped top, black pants and Converse shoes. Her hair was pinned into a proofed up ponytail along with her signature black eyeliner and red lipstick.

“Dean, can I ask your honest opinion?” She asked him.

“Sure.” He said

“Do I look okay?” She asked “I mean, for a president’s daughter?”

“Honestly?” He asked and she nodded “You look like a pinup girl and that’s not a bad thing.”

“Like Marilyn Monroe if she’d married JFK?” Julianna asked and he laughed.

“Probably, but better.” He said and his cheeks turned pink “Sorry, I’ll just wait outside for you.” He said and shut the door behind him. Her mouth curved into a smile as his comment sunk in. He thought she looked better than probably the biggest blonde bombshell of all time. She grabbed her purse as she blushed.

From then on, Dean always knew about what she was planning to do. Anytime her family stopped in a town, she always went to read to children. Her main platform was promoting literacy among children. Dean watched one day as she gave a passionate speech at a local school library one day.

“Without words we cannot communicate,” she had said “without the ability to read, how will we learn from our past mistakes and how to make our world better? That is why I want to issue a challenge to every child at Silver Springs Elementary and beyond. Nurture your mind the same way you nurture your body with a healthy diet. You’ll be surprised at what you can create.”

He watched as a smile crossed her face and she went on

“I’d like to tell you a story about a young lady that liked to write, just for fun and to tell stories to her mother and sisters. One day, she sat on a train and came up with the idea for a boy with glasses to go to wizard school. Today, we know that woman as J.K. Rowling and the boy she envisioned as Harry Potter. The only limit in your arsenal of written words is your imagination.”

The crowd clapped as she thanked the crowd and walked off stage toward Dean and the rest of her security detail. The rosy glow that illuminated her face was enough to entrance him.

“What’d you think?” She asked Dean as he walked her to her hotel room that night.

“You’re very passionate about reading and writing, why?” He asked and she had smiled.

“I’ll tell you my secret if you tell me yours.” She told him as they arrived at her door.

“What secret is that?” He asked

“About your military career.” She told him.

“Damn, I was hoping you’d forget about that,” he said and then added “pardon my French.”

She held up a hand

“Nothing worse than what I’ve said,” she told him “so care to tell me that story?”

“I’m gonna need alcohol before I tell that story.” He told her as they arrived at her door.

“Well, you’re in luck.” She told him “I can have room service bring it up.”

“You mean me?” He asked “Because I have to check everything you get sent.”

“Everything?” She asked and he nodded “Jesus, when do you sleep?”

“I get my four hours a night and I’m fine.” He said. She shook her head and rolled her eyes

“Fine, do what you must, but don’t keep me waiting.” She told him

“I would never.” He told her as they walked into her room.

She was surprisingly easy to talk to with all their formalities out of the way. Wearing her NYU hoodie and yoga pants with no makeup on, she was just as beautiful as when she was dolled up for the press.

“So you gathered information?” she asked, as she poured them another drink

“By whatever means necessary, yes, I did.” he told her, as he took the drink “Am I proud of what I did? I guess that depends on who you ask.”

“If I asked you?” she questioned and he shook his head as she sipped from her glass.

“The things I did to get the information I needed? No, I'm not proud of that.” he told her “The lives I saved because of that information? Yes, I am proud of that.”

“Did you ever think if those people had families? Children that were waiting for them?” She asked

He shook his head and knocked back the rest of his drink.

“No, I couldn't afford to. If I thought of them as more than a mean to an end, that made me weak. In my former line of work, I couldn't afford to appear weak.” he told her

“Why not?” she asked as she kept sipping.

“Weakness meant they could've found out anything about me. My family, my friends, anyone I had contact with and used it against me.” His green eyes were set, as he moved the glass from hand to hand “I basically had to turn off who I was; everything my parent taught me about being a good and decent person, I had to lock away while I tortured those people.”

She let out a breath and finished off the rest of her drink.

“You hate me, don't you?” he asked and she shook her head, rubbing her eyes.

“No, I couldn't hate you.” she told him “You're too good for me to hate. Do I agree with your methods? No.”

“But?” he asked “I'm sensing a “but” somewhere in there.”

“This is difficult for me to grapple with because of my background.” She told him “I mean, before my dad became president.”

“I'm intrigued,” he said “So you wanted to be a what before your Dad ran for president?” Dean asked as he poured them another whiskey.

“A human rights lawyer,” she told him as she took the glass “like Amal Clooney.”

He shrugged

“You’d be good at it, you could still do it.” He told her and she shook her head as she took another drink.

“Nah, my Mom said the family has to stick together while Dad’s in office. Looks better that way.” She told him.

“If you say so,” he told her “you’d do well at anything you try though. You’re really smart.”

She grinned

“Thank you.” She told him

“Truth or truth?” He asked her

“That’s redundant,” She told him “just ask me to tell the truth.”

“Okay, so tell me the truth,” he said “how had some little rich guy not come and swept you off your feet?”

She laughed

“Because they’re intimidated by me.” She told him “They’re not used to girls who speak their minds and who stand up for themselves. They want decoration and I’m not decoration.”

“You’re got enough to be decoration, just too smart for it.” He pointed out and immediately regretted it. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“You think so?” She asked

“Sorry, I overstepped.” He said and stood up. She followed after him, setting her drink down.

“Dean, please don’t leave.” She said as he walked to the door.

“I should,” He told her, not looking at her “I should walk out of this room and resign, go back home and live a life of mediocrity.”

“But?” She asked

He slowly turned back around, with his loosened tie, un-tucked shirt and light stubble on his face, he looked delicious. He set his drink aside and stood in front of her.

“But then I wouldn’t have the chance to do this.” He said and held her face in his hands as he kissed her, catching her off guard. He pulled back and she pulled him back in, kissing him again.

“No,” he said as they kept kissing “we can’t.”

“We shouldn’t.” She told him as she untied his tie, flinging it to the ground.

“I should go.” He told her as he unzipped her hoodie, peeling it off of her and leaving her in a thin tank top.

“Yeah, yeah you should.” She said as she unbuttoned his dress shirt and tugged it off of him. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her over to the bed. He got on top of her and kissed her hard. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he practically begged as he kissed her neck and collar bone “tell me to fuck off.”

She tugged in his hair, making him look her in the eye.

“No,” she told him “I’m not gonna do that.”

“I could get fired for this.” He told her

“I’ll tell them I seduced you.” She shot back

“I can’t even begin to think of the names they’d call you.” He told her, his fingers trailing over her cheek.

“I don’t care.” She told him “I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you. I didn’t think you wanted me.”

“How could I NOT want you?” He asked

“I thought you’d want someone like my sisters.” she told him

Julianna had two younger sisters; Alexis and Claire.

“Alexis is the tomboy. They all love her because she likes to hunt, golf and fish.” She said.

Alexis was a brat, she didn’t care to attend much of anything and would rather spend her time on a baseball diamond than anywhere else.

“Claire is basically Biker Barbie, if anything I figured you’d go for her.” Julianna told him.

With a snotty attitude and a chip on her shoulder; Claire wore black eyeliner and her hair in braids, she was a bigger brat that Alexis.

Dean shook his head

“No, they’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t compare to you.” He told her. “You carry yourself with this quiet confidence and you can command the attention of a room without trying. You’re sharp and witty and you speak with such passion about the things you care about. That, to me, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You think I’m sexy?” She asked and he nodded

“Of course I do,” he said “who wouldn’t?”

She kissed him with renewed passion, locking her legs around his waist.

“I want you,” She told him as they kissed “fuck I want you so badly.”

She clawed at his belt and pants as he yanked her tank top off, leaving her topless. Her bare torso exposed to him, he kissed every inch he could get to, tasting the salty and sweet mix of her skin. He licked and sucked on her nipples, the pink, sensitive buds hardening in his mouth as she writhed under him.

“Dean, oh Dean!” She mewled

“What do you want me to do to you gorgeous?” He asked as he kissed down her belly and to the waistband of her yoga pants. “Your ass looks so fucking hot in these.”

“Mh, really?” She asked “Why don’t you pull those off and see what it looks like bare?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but did as she commanded and realized she wasn’t wearing panties.

“You dirty, dirty girl.” He said as he spread her legs open, she was practically dripping with arousal. He looked up at her and she nodded, giving him permission. He picked up one leg and kissed from her ankle up to the apex of her thighs. He intentionally skipped where she wanted him most and kissed down to her other ankle.

“DEAN,” she hissed “don’t tease me.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said “and I’ll quit teasing.”

“Go down on me,” she told him “I want to know what that mouth can do.”

“Yes ma’am.” he said as he laid on his front, his head between her legs. He flattened his tongue and licked her from hole to clit, making her back arch. He placed his hands behind her knees and pushed her legs up. He licked the curve of her butt and the backs of her thighs. Surprising even herself, she cried out in passion.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh, that feels, FUCK!” She cried out.

He hushed her

“If anyone hears you, they’ll come to investigate,” he told her “you have to be quiet or I won’t get to finish you.”

She nodded and he went back to work, his tongue seeming to be able to find every spot between her legs that made her pant and bite her lip. He sat up a little, grabbing behind her knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He grabbed a pillow from the nearby chair, set it on the ground and placed his knees on it as he opened her legs again.

“Fuck, you taste amazing.” He told her as he dove back in. She sat up and realized what she was looking at. In the full length mirror, she saw the both of them. She looked strung out on passion and her hair was a mess, but the sight of her gorgeous head of security on his knees in front of her was intoxicating. She ran her fingers through his hair as he thrust his tongue into her, his mouth sealing over her pussy. She gripped his hair and rocked, his nose bumping her clit as he gripped her hips and moaned.

“Yes, like that.” He said as she rode his tongue.

“Fuck me Dean,” she begged him “god, please fuck me.”

Without a word, he stood and rid himself of the rest of his clothes. She had gotten glimpses of his “equipment”, his dress pants didn’t do much to disguise what he had, but the truth was far better than she expected. She reached out and gently ran her hand over his velvety length, the tip leaking pre-cum. She lapped her tongue over the tip and he nearly growled.

“Fuck Julie,” he said as he ran a hand through her hair. She took him into her mouth, bit by bit, adjusting to his length and girth, her hand compensated for what her mouth couldn’t take as she began to bob her head up and down him. He hissed and moaned as he held her hair and watched in the mirror.

Here he was, a guy from a small town in Kansas getting a blowjob from the President’s daughter.

It sounded like the plot to a cheap porn but he didn’t care.

“Fuck,” he moaned “you suck cock like a champ sweetheart.”

She hummed and he gripped her hair tighter and let her keep going. She was winding him tightly as she lightly twisted his skin and then started to fondle his balls.

“Fuck,” he hissed “oh fuck!” He yanked her off of him and said “I was enjoying that, but this is gonna be over a lot quicker than I want it to be if you keep going like that.”

She nodded and he helped her stand as he kissed her. He backed up until the backs of his knees hit the bed. Her wrapped his arms around her and sat down. She straddled him and took his length into her hand, guiding it to her waiting hole. She flicked him through her folds and moaned as he kissed her harder.

“You ready for me?” He asked and she nodded guiding him inside her. He thrust his hips up as she took him in, moaning. She quietly moaned his name over and over again in his ear as he grabbed two handfuls of her ass in his hands.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he kissed her “you have the firmest ass I’ve ever grabbed.”

She smirked and kissed him

“And you’ve got the biggest cock I’ve ever had,” she murmured in his ear as she bit the lobe “let me ride you.”

He pulled back as he fully sank into her and nodded as she moved her hips. The sound of her skin hitting his echoed in the room as she rode him slowly at first. She could feel every inch of him filling her nearly to the breaking point. He gripped her flesh hard, there would surely be bruises on her ass in the morning, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was them and being in that moment with him. He laid down, his back flat on the bed as she placed her hands on his chest.

“Mh, look at you riding me like a champ,” he commented “fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

She smirked and asked

“You like that? A girl taking charge over you?”

“No,” he said “a WOMAN.”

She bit her lip and slid her hands up and down her own body as he watched. She placed her fingertips on her clit and began to massage the engorged bundle of nerves.

“Fuck!” he moaned as he tried to push into her faster and she shook her head.

“No,” she moaned as she moved her fingers in a slow, torturous circle “I want us to take our time, I want to feel EVERYTHING.”

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” He told her as she moved and he drank in the sight on top of him. The girl he wanted, that seemed just out of his reach, was now playing with her clit while she rode his hard cock.

If this was a dream, he’d be royally pissed when we woke up.

“Dean,” she moaned “oh god Dean, you feel so good inside me.”

“That’s it,” he growled “use that filthy mouth.”

“You like watching me fuck you?” She asked “Playing with my clit on top of you?”

“God yes,” he groaned “taking what you want from me.”

“Sit up,” She commanded and he followed through, he watched as she glided her hands up her body and cupped both her breasts in her hands. “Mhhh, you wanna suck on these?” She asked him and he nodded

“Yes,” he choked out “yes ma’am, please? May I?”

“Such a-FUCK!-such a good boy. So polite.” She breathed as she kissed him “You may, you may suck on me.”

He captured her nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud while his other hand captured her other breast, his thumb flicking over the nipple, making her whine.

“Oh fuck, Dean! Dean, oh fuck!” She moaned “God, I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna come all over you!”

“Mh,” he moaned “Come for me baby, come all over me.”

She rode him hard, the sound of slapping skin getting louder as she dug her nails into his shoulders, screaming into his chest as she came. He bit into her shoulder and cried out as he let go deep inside her, finally stilling.

After their romp in the broom closet; they straightened themselves up and went back to the engagement she'd been dragged to. Dean watched as she navigated the flurry of people wanting to talk to her, asking which designer she was wearing and what lipstick she used. The black, winged eyeliner has become part of her style and the press pounced on it.

“The eyeliner and lipstick is by Wet N Wild,” she told the reporter “the eyeliner is H2O proof in black and the lipstick is Missy and Fierce in their Liquid Catsuit line.”

Dean smirked internally and said in her ear

“Time to go.”

She gave him a nod and said

“Thank ya'll, it's been a pleasure.” and shook the interviewer's hand.

The next night, they were allowed to go a little more casual; Julianna had ticket to see her favorite band, The Goo Goo Dolls, and wouldn't miss the performance for anything.

“I don't like this,” Dean told her as they walked into the venue “not at all.”

“Relax,” she told him “Secret Service was here beforehand and gave the all clear, don't you have any faith in your men?” she asked

“That's not what I'm worried about,” he said “drunken fools are more my concern.”

“Dean, can you do me a favor for tonight?” she asked and pulled him to the side, out of sight of the other concert goers as they filed into their seat “Please? I almost never ask you for anything but can you throw me a solid on this ONE request?”

“What?” he asked, his eyes searching around them

“Can you please, put the Secret Service on the back burner for ONE NIGHT?” she asked “Just this one? Please?”

“And do what?” he asked

She took his hands and placed them on her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck

“Be my boyfriend?” she asked “We NEVER get to go out. Never get to be a couple. All I want is a night of normal. Just one, is all I ask for.”

He sighed

“But the risks.” he insisted and she kissed him

“We'll be fine.” she assured him “I know good and well off duty and undercover cops are here. We will be okay. Just be my boyfriend? Please? It would make me so happy.”

She gave him the sad puppy face and he laughed.

“Fine,” he relented “I cave, I'll do it. But just this one night.”

“Thank you.” she told him and kissed him.

Even though they were supposed to be a couple for the concert, Dean kept his protective guard up. He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around he shoulders, gently pushing away anyone that was too close for his liking. When The Goo Goo Dolls took the stage, Julianna swayed with the music in his arms as they both sang along to the songs they knew. Thunder cracked overhead and the sky opened up, raining down on the crowd just as the band was closing the show with their biggest hit, “Iris”.

“Come on, we gotta go.” Dean said in her ear as they both got drenched.

“No, please!” she begged as the song started and she looked at him “This is my favorite, we can leave after this. PLEASE just let me hear this song.”

He sighed, annoyed and nodded.

“This one more song and we're gone.” he told her and she nodded. His boots were soaked, his back ached and all he wanted to do was go the hell home, but hearing the familiar chords of the song brought him to a place in his mind that made him smile.

And I'd give up forever to touch you 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be And I don't want to go home right now

He held her through the song, singing the words in her ear as they swayed. She tightened her grip on his arms and closed her eyes. It was perfectly imperfect and that was what she loved about it and him. As the song ended, she turned to face him, rain rolling down her face

“When everything's made to be broken,” she sang back to him “I just want you to know who I am.”

They kissed as a loud clap of thunder sounded over their heads and he whisked her away as soon as the kiss ended.

The next day Julianna awoke and joined her parents and sisters in the dining room for breakfast where someone immediately poured her a cup of coffee. She thanked them and her Dad asked

“Have fun at the concert last night?” his tone seemingly off from his usual, neutral one.

A woman stood next to Julianna, waiting to take her breakfast order and Julianna looked up at her.

“Can I have eggs? Scrambled with some cheese, and turkey bacon please?” Julianna asked and the woman nodded as left. “I mean yeah,” Julianna said as she added cream and sugar to her coffee “I mean, it was the Goo Goo Dolls. Not Rage Against The Machine, but yeah they put on a good show.”

“You. Were. Seen!” her father said and stood up.

“Dad, I'm a little hung over, so if you could arrive at a point, that would be GREAT.” Julianna told him as Alexis and Claire giggled into their plates.”

“OUT!” her Dad yelled “OUT! EVERYONE OUT!”

The dining room cleared and her Dad threw the newspaper at her. She took a sip of her coffee and turned it over. The picture glaring back at her was of her and Dean making out at the concert and the headline read

“SECRET SERVICE TOO CLOSE?”

“Care to explain this?” her Dad asked, furious.

Julianna looked down at the paper, at her Dad and down at the paper again.

“Oh fuck.” she mumbled.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[acabecca]

Endless list of OCs // Calen Myers - Tangled Up [The Originals AU]

Notes: AU. AU AU AU AU AU. I cannot stress enough how AU this is. Very AU.

*

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

She was 18 years old, she was pregnant, and she was pretty sure she was going to be homeless when her parents found out about the whole sorry mess she had managed to get into.

She was probably about to be friendless as well - Kol was going to hit the roof when he found out.

He was probably going to disown her, Bekah would obviously side with her big brother and she couldn’t imagine Esther going against her two babies just to help her out, which meant Calen was going to be completely alone.

Not completely, she thought as her hand subconsciously made its way to her tummy.

Oh God, she was going to give up coffee. She remembered when her cousin was pregnant a few years earlier, she had given up every form of caffeine after deeming it bad for the baby.

Calen couldn’t function without caffeine – especially on very little sleep, which was what she was going to get once the tiny human in her belly started using her bladder as a squeeze toy. Actually, she had been surviving on no more than four hours sleep per night for the past week and a half since first suspecting she might be pregnant.

She hadn’t given up coffee then, of course. Nothing was definite yet and it had taken her that long to pluck up the courage to take a pregnancy test, but she had done and now that it was confirmed, she felt guilty for craving a white chocolate mocha from the local coffee shop she was headed to.

All she wanted to do was go back home, get in bed and hide under her covers for the next year, but she knew she had to tell Kol before anyone else did. She needed to explain what had happened, needed to know if she was going to lose him because of it.

She felt sick as she pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar, homely smell that was usually so comforting to her doing little to settle her churning stomach or her hands that had started to shake with nerves.

“Hey Callie, he’s upstairs pretending to study,” Rebekah told her immediately, swinging her legs round on the stool as she sipped on her tea. “He told me to send you right up.”

“H-he knew I was coming?” Calen stuttered, afraid that somehow, someone has already told him the news, but the younger girl frowned at her in confusion.

“You always come round, Callie.”

“Oh,” she let out a breath of relief. “Of-of course. Of course I do, sorry Bekah,” she shook her head, making her way behind the counter and past the kitchen so she could walk upstairs to the flat that had always been empty and had somehow turned into her and Kol’s hangout spot, Rebekah tagging along with them for the last year or so (ever since her friends had realised just how hot her big brother was, Rebekah had deemed him cool enough to hang out with because it made her just that little bit more popular, much to Kol’s dismay and Calen’s amusement).

The little flat had been her escape from her home life and her overbearing parents. It had been a place to relax on her breaks when she was working at Esther’s coffee shop and a place she and Kol could study in peace (although studying usually turned into them binge watching a show on Netflix).

Jesus, she was probably going to lose her job as well. Not that she could blame Esther for firing her – Calen had betrayed Kol, her best friend in the whole entire world and Esther’s baby boy. The Mikaelson’s had been so good to her (well, most of them had), Esther had given her a job to get her out of the house and help her save a bit for college, Kol had given her sanity when her parents were driving her mad, and this is how she repays them.

She was going to end up homeless, jobless, and alone. There was no hope for her or for her little baby.

“I can feel you lurking in the hallway, Callie!”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her hand wrapped around the doorknob as she heard Kol’s voice drifting through. She loved his voice… His accent. It was the whole reason they were friends – little eleven year old Calen had been fascinated with the new British boy in her class and he had quickly become part of her little group of friends.

Of course, some of those friends had drifted away over the years, some of them had come back, but Kol had always been there from the very first day she met him right up until now.

There had been an awkward phase when they were 15 and they'd tried the whole dating thing because they felt like they had to, it was what everyone was expecting, but ultimately they (and everyone else) had realised they were better off as friends than anything more.

And now she was going to lose him.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside the flat, the plan she had formed to gently break the news to him running through her head. Ease him into it, explain what had happened, try and make him understand… Then drop the bombshell of who the father was.

“Hey,” she smiled weakly, seeing him lying on his stomach on the floor, his school books spread out in front of him. She was surprised to find him actually studying for once, but then she saw the laptop in front of him and realised he was just, as usual, watching Netflix.

“Hey, want one?” he asked, holding out a plate full of cookies he had undoubtedly swiped from his mother’s coffee shop.

“No thanks, I’m good,” she waved her hand at him, inwardly cursing her voice for shaking as he turned to look at her curiously, his mouth full and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side.

“What’s up?” he asked slowly. “You look like shit. You’ve not got that bug that was going round, have you? Because Rebekah only recovered a few days ago and I am not taking care of you like I had to take care of her - there’s only so much vomit a guy can deal with, y’know? Especially when I get little to no thanks for being such a good big brother and making sure she didn't die from-”

“I’m pregnant!” she squeaked, interrupting him and immediately screwing her eyes shut.

Good one, Calen. So much for easing him into it. There goes that plan.

“You’re… Sorry, what?” Kol shook his head, pushing his laptop to the side and sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You’re what?”

“I-I’m pregnant,” Calen stuttered.

“...Pregnant? With like… a baby?” he asked dumbly, and Calen raised her eyebrows. “What a silly question. Of course you’re pregnant with a baby. What else are you going to be pregnant with? You’re pregnant. With a baby. Shit.”

“Yeah,” she muttered quietly, collapsing into the armchair that Kol had managed to sneak upstairs and which Esther still hadn't noticed was missing (or was pretending she hadn't noticed was missing) for the last two months. “Shit.”

“Shit, Callie,” Kol’s eyes went wide as he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you- I didn’t even- I mean… You’re seeing someone? Obviously, you’ve been seeing someone unless this is the second coming of Christ which I highly doubt. I don’t- you didn’t even tell me you liked anyone, let alone that you were seeing someone!”

“Because that’s the important thing in this scenario? Who I’ve been seeing?” she asked incredulously. “Because I think the fact that I am going to have an actual human person completely reliant on me in a few months is a little more pressing than who I like or don’t like!”

Kol stared at her in disbelief as he shuffled across the floor until he was kneeling in front of her. “I’d say it’s pretty important, Calen, considering he’s gotten my best friend pregnant.”

“I’m- I’m not even seeing him, anyway,” she whispered, shrugging her shoulders weakly and tearing her gaze away from Kol’s. “I thought I was, I thought we were… y’know. I thought he liked me and stuff, that we could maybe make a go of things eventually? It was complicated and we… We just wanted to keep things quiet for a bit because his- because there are people that wouldn’t really approve of it?”

“Jesus Christ Calen please tell me he isn’t married.”

“Of course he’s not married, what do you take me for?!” she cried. “It’s just that… It’s complicated. But it doesn’t matter anymore anyway, because he wants nothing to do with me anymore. I spoke to him a few hours ago and… Well, whatever it was is over. He made it pretty clear that he isn’t interested in me or the baby, so I guess that’s it.”

Kol’s eyes seemed to darken and Calen gulped as his jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. She rarely ever saw Kol angry, he was normally so happy and full of light, making her happy and making her laugh, that it always shocked her on the few occasions she saw him begin to lose his temper.

“What?” he growled.

“It doesn’t even matter-”

“Of course it matters! He’s just going to knock you up and leave you?”

“Kol honestly-”

“I’ll kill him-”

“Kol!” Calen leaned forward, grabbing one of his hands and uncurling his finger. “Please. It’s not worth it, I can… I can do this. I can have a baby.”

He swallowed, looking up at her carefully. “Calen your parents are going to kill you.”

She groaned loudly. “I know. But it’s okay, I don’t need them. I’ll… I can ask Esther for more shifts, right? And I can- maybe I can even move in here! Yeah, there’s plenty of room for me and a baby here! I can do this. I have to do this, I don’t have any other choice. Well- I do have other choices but- this is what I want to do, Kol. I can do this by myself.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you can’t, and you’re not going to. You don't have to do it alone. I’ll help you.”

“…Kol-”

“I’m going to help you, Callie.”

“Kol you’re going off to college-”

“Forget that,” he waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t have to go to college, I’ll get a job. We can move in here, I’m sure my mother would let us rent it for less than she would anyone else. You can’t keep working in the coffee shop all the time, not when you’re pregnant and certainly not when the baby gets here, you’re going to need time off and your parents aren’t going to be much help, are they? I’ll easily get a job, I can help you, and I can be the cool uncle, right?”

Calen’s heart jumped in her chest as she looked at the small, hopeful smile on Kol’s face and she knew she was going to absolutely shatter him with the next words that left her mouth.

“I can’t, Kol,” she told him hoarsely, tears clouding her vision as she quickly reached up and wiped her eyes. “I can’t, because you’re going to hate me.”

“What?” he frowned in confusion, his fingers curling round hers. “Calen, I could never hate you. You’re my best friend, I love-”

“The baby,” she interrupted quickly. “It’s… The father.”

“…Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, Calen pulled her hand out of Kol’s grasp and bit down on her bottom lip, ignoring the sickly feeling swimming round in her stomach as she looked into Kol’s eyes which were full of concern.

“It’s Klaus.”