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just-come-baek · 6 years

Text

Wedding Fever 1

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Word count: 9.3k

Summary: Baekhyun is the best man, and I am the maid of honor at our friends’ wedding. Although should we be excited about our friends getting married, we seem to complain a lot more every time we meet for another preparation. Maybe it’s a bit fanciful of me to think that, but I hope, somewhere between choosing flowers and venting about the reception prep, he’ll like me just as I like him.

A/N it was supposed to be a long ass one-shot but then I decided to split it into two (or three) chapters. The smut will be in the last part. 29/05/18 - edited!

Masterlist | next part

“Hi, are you busy next weekend?” My friend, Jiwoo, asked as soon as I answered the call. She had always been like this when she wanted something; always straight to the point, no beating around the bush. But of course, when it was the other way around, no man could convince her to squeeze something into her schedule.

“What is it?” I voiced in boredom. When it came to her, I had to know first what she wanted, and then consider. I had made that mistake way too many times before, and now, I knew better not to agree without hearing her first. “If it’s another blind date, I’m gonna pass.”

“You won’t let that go, will you?” she stated, and I didn’t even have to reply for her to know the answer. This guy that she had set me up with had been terrible. And I’m not exaggerating; his hand, instead of accepting my handshake, went straight down to my butt in a poor attempt to slide his sausage fingers into my trousers. He was handsome, true, and I was desperate for an orgasm, also true, but not with someone who had absolutely no manners.

“So, what is it? Be quick, I don’t have all day,” I lied, but she didn’t have to know that. I just finished my work early, and I didn’t have anything to do. However, I let her think I was awfully busy because she wouldn’t ask me of as much as she probably wanted me to.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” she inquired, but I only rolled my eyes at her, dismissing her remark. Being her friend was difficult, and I had to stand my ground, even though she could think I was mean and peevish. “Anyway, Hongbin and I are throwing a party for our closest friends; do you think you can stop by?”

“It depends on what you want me to make,” I stated truthfully; it wouldn’t be the first time when a friend invited me to a party and asked me to cook something. Actually, now when I think about it, my culinary skills were the sole reason why I appeared on certain parties…

“Just a few goodies,” she spoke in a higher tone as if it was supposed to convince me. It wasn’t in her style to try to butter me up, in such circumstances it usually would be Hongbin the one calling me, but I shrugged that disquieting feeling. Something fishy was up, yet I wasn’t going to question it now. In case I’m right, they confirm my suspicion at the party anyway. “I’m in charge of dessert, so I thought that you could cover the main dish. You can pick whatever you want, I’m sure it’ll be delicious nonetheless.”

Trying to win me over with a compliment? I thought as I poked my cheek with my tongue. How much I wished it wasn’t that easy! She’s lucky because I’m a sucker for compliments. She had known me for years, and it’s obvious she used the flattery card on purpose, being perfectly aware that I wasn’t going to say no.

“Okay, let’s say I’m in. How many people are going to be there?” I said, pretending that I still had doubts about this friendly gathering. Actually, I did have doubts. Jiwoo’s definition of a small hangout was different than mine; not like day and night, but I would never consider a party for fifteen people as humble, yet she had proved me wrong.

“It won’t be anything outrageous this time. Only our most important friends are on the guest list, which roughly adds up to six people.” She explained, and in the meantime, I reached for a notebook to make notes. “So, can I count on you?”

“Of course, you can,” I replied casually, already thinking about the shopping list. “I’ll give you a receipt for the ingredients and my labor, so don’t be surprised,” I added matter-of-factly, and Jiwoo chuckled, expecting this kind of remark from me.

“I’ll pay you back in wine; is that okay with you?” Jiwoo spoke playfully, and I sighed in content; whatever we wanted from each other, we would pay our debts using wine as currency. It had always worked. “Okay, so see you on Saturday at seven.”

When Saturday finally arrived, I woke up at eleven, being tired as ever. Weekends should be time to catch up with sleep and recharge your batteries, but it had never worked for me. On Fridays, I always go out with my colleagues, and it’s a miracle if I come back home sober.

Groaning, I rolled off my bed.

It was going to be a long day, and I didn’t doubt it for a second. First off, I’d have to take a shower and eat something before I’d go outside to do the groceries. Then, I’d have to work my magic and prepare something delicious, so when finally everything’s ready, I could dress myself up. Jiwoo had sounded as if she had a secret to spill, and if she planned on inviting the most important people in her life, I knew I had to look extra fancy.

Oh my God, she hasn’t got knocked up, has she?

Shaking the thought off my mind, I picked a set of fresh clothes and walked under the stream of hot water. We were both young, barely twenty-three, yet in her case, pregnancy couldn’t be that bad. She had been in a stable relationship with Hongbin for over a year now, so it wouldn’t be that shocking. It’s natural for their bond to progress.

Whereas, my sex life’s seemed to be stuck in the same momentum since I had got dumped. And, if it’s any comforting, I’m pretty successful in other areas, work-wise, for example. So, ultimately, it isn’t as bad as it could be.

For today’s party, I decided to prepare a big bowl of enchiladas for those who don’t mind a little spice in their life, and a plate of lasagna for whom prefer mild meals. And though I’m famous for my pizza, I concluded it would be too much of a hassle since it requires much more effort to make when I’m catering for a group of six. Enchiladas and lasagna are greasy dishes, and people quickly get full, so it's an excellent choice for tonight's gathering.

And maybe, I could get some starters if I get inspired when doing shopping.

Having showered and dried my hair, I put on the previously chosen clothes and left my apartment. The nearest supermarket was about three blocks away, so I didn’t bother starting the engine nor catching the bus. My friends often complain that I don’t exercise enough, so the stroll to and back from the supermarket should suffice until gym passes get cheaper.

Professionally, I strolled, or rather skated between aisles, pushing myself with my right leg. I picked up the best ingredients for the upcoming supper. For fellow shoppers, I might've seemed a bit childish doing shopping like that, wearing a power pink T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of trainers. I didn’t care, though. Not when debating which wine to choose, not when lifting a few bags of potato chips and a jar of lollipops.

I arrived at home thirty minutes later, and the first thing I did was to turn on the TV, choosing TLC channel which was airing another episode of Say ‘Yes’ to the Dress, and opened the bottle of wine, as cooking has always brought much more joy when I had a glass of wine within the reach. Moreover, it usually helped me not to graze while preparing the meal.

When another bride complained about the brand dress that she wanted, but it didn’t fit her figure, I mixed all sauce ingredients. I listened to bride’s complaints and the shop assistant’s professional pointers, wishing for commercials to start. I watched programs like this one, quite compulsively at that, but at the same time, each scene was annoying me. It’s strange but when the episode ends and another starts, I can’t get myself to switch the channel.

Today must’ve been a marathon; the lasagna was already in the oven, the bowl of enchiladas waiting for its turn on the counter, and I could still hear another Atlanta bride bicker with her family about her choice. Sighing, I opened the freezer and grabbed the unfinished cup of mint ice cream. If I was going to watch it, I needed some sort of comfort food.

I sat comfortably on the couch, and I munched on the ice cream, my ringtone saving me from another round of whiny and indecisive women.

It was Jiwoo.

God bless her timing!

“Hi, what’s up?” I asked, popping a spoon of ice cream into my mouth.

“I just wanted to ask if you need a ride. Hongbin is going to be in your neighborhood, and he can pick you up. What do you think about it?” Jiwoo explained, and I sighed in relief. She saved me much trouble before I even realized I had it.

“Thanks,” I replied excitedly, counting how much money I would save if Hongbin could give me a lift. Considering the fact that I already had a glass of wine, driving there wasn’t an option. “What time can I expect him?”

“Hmm… I��m not sure; he’s meeting a client right now, and I have no idea how long it’s gonna take.” Jiwoo spoke honestly; she couldn’t be sure, Hongbin’s industry was quite unpredictable, and I understood that. “He has your number, though. He’ll call when he’s finished.” She concluded, and I hummed in acknowledgment since her offer was reasonable. “Okay, no problem. The goodies you asked me for are ready anyway,” I agreed, giving her an update on my mission.

“Oh, and what have you cooked? Is it pizza?”

“You’ll find out when I get there,” I dismissed her inquiry, leaving her with a cliffhanger. Either way, the food was delicious. Besides, I was certain that no one would complain. “I gotta go if you want me to be ready when Hongbin arrives. Is there a dress code that I should abide by?”

“No, but you could dress up. Baekhyun’s going to be here, and you won’t get into his pants, wearing a tracksuit.” Jiwoo spoke, and I wished she was within my reach so I could smack her across her face.

“And why should I care that he’s going to be there?” I asked nonchalantly, trying to act as indifferent as I could muster up. I might have fantasized about him a couple of times, but it didn’t mean I was planning on beginning anything with him. I had met him around the time when Jiwoo and Hongbin started dating, and if Baekhyun and I had a chance to become something more, it would have already happened.

“Oh puh-lease, you’ve been crushing on him since you met him! And don’t deny it!”

“I don’t see how’s that relevant,” I shrugged, ignoring her statement. At this point, denial was the best strategy. If only I could back up my defense with constructive arguments which had the power to shut her up once and for all, it would be perfect. “I’m over him. Whatever ‘crush’ you’re referring to is in the past. Really, I mean it. Besides, there’s this new guy at work, and he asked me out.” I lied blatantly, hoping she’d believe me.

Baekhyun isn’t a guy one can get over so easily. I suffered (and still do) from the worst form of infatuation. And though he’s not really my type, with each meeting I want him more. At first, I couldn’t stand his presence, but then it grew on me, and it stuck like this ever since. However, we had known each other for over two years now, and chances for romance between us oscillate around zero. It’s that simple, so it’s pointless to try any further.

“I hope you’re not bullshitting me right now,” she whispered, as she wanted to believe me. It didn’t mean she did, but at least she tried. “But for real, put on something nice, you can show him what he could've had. Show him what he’s missing out on.”

Of course, she wouldn’t let it go.

What was I thinking?

“Ugh…fine,” I gave in, even though I knew it wouldn’t work. Baekhyun and I weren’t meant for each other, and I realized it before my infatuation consumed me. Maybe for some women, it’s okay to be holding out for a hero, but I was completely done. Two years was more than enough, and I gave up with no regret. “I’m hanging up, see you later.”

Hongbin texted me around six o’clock and arrived about thirty minutes later. Thankfully, by the time he knocked on my doors, I was already dolled up.

Despite Jiwoo’s persistent advice, I decided not to overdo myself. I didn’t want Baekhyun and the rest think that I tried too much. If anything, I opted for nonchalant and classy, so I straightened my hair and chose a black dress that reached down to my mid-thigh. It wasn’t slutty, though. It was long-sleeved and showed no cleavage. My make-up wasn’t excessive, either. My lips were painted red, my eyes highlighted with black mascara and brownish eyeshadow. A little bit of blush on my cheeks, and I was ready to go.

“What’s that smell?” Hongbin asked when I opened the doors and let him in. “Mm…it must be delicious,” he admitted, roaming around the kitchen looking for the food. “How much time do you need?”

“Actually, we can leave right now,” I replied as I walked across the room. Hongbin straightened up, smiling at me. If he hoped I had cooked something extra for him, he was wrong. He has Jiwoo, and it’s her task to coddle him. “I just have to put foil over them, and we’re all set,” I added, pushing Hongbin away with my hip since he was blocking the oven.

Skillfully, I packed the food, whereas Hongbin whistled and played with his car keys.

The drive to their apartment was quick, but when we arrived, we were the last to join. Apparently, the only guests besides me and Baekhyun were Hongbin’s parents, and although I put one of my best dresses, I still felt a bit underdressed. Even Baekhyun wore a suit shirt and a bow tie. I should have known better.

When Hongbin’s parents kissed my cheeks, I excused myself to help Jiwoo in the kitchen. It’s not that I didn’t trust her, I did. I just didn’t want to stay alone with Baekhyun when Hongbin would be too engrossed in the conversation with his parents.

“You should’ve worn high heels,” Jiwoo mused when I entered the kitchen. “Your skinny legs would’ve seemed even longer. Baekhyun would start drooling on the spot!”

“And you should’ve told me you’re planning to parent-trip us!” I fought back aggressively. I didn’t appreciate what she was trying to do, and she ought to have known that! “I can’t believe you’ve done that! How could you?”

“I’m trying to help you. For how long have you been lusting over him?” I folded my arms across my chest, too stubborn to admit the facts. “Just give it a try, okay? Give him one last chance?”

“Whatever,” I barked in response.

Unwillingly, I returned to the table. Smooth jazz melody was playing in the background, while the guests were comfortably chatting. Smiling at them, I took a seat next to Baekhyun.

“I can’t believe that you’re all still hanging out together,” Hongbin’s mother said, as she clapped her hands in joy. Apparently, Baekhyun and Hongbin had been friends since middle school. And then two years ago, Jiwoo and I joined the group, making the old lady incredibly happy. Shame that Baekhyun and I never hang out alone!

“Why is it so surprising?” Baekhyun asked loudly, pretending to be offended.

“I don’t know, you and Hongbin are so different,” she replied, and I nodded my head. She was right; Baekhyun and Hongbin were like day and night. It’s really shocking how they remained friends for so many years.

The moment we exhausted the topic, Jiwoo joined us with the meals that I had prepared. It was steaming deliciously, and it smelled even better. Everyone licked lips in appetite, observing her every move.

“Dig in,” Jiwoo said, as she sat down in the only free chair. Listening to her command, Baekhyun stood up and started distributing Enchiladas, whereas Hongbin did the same with the lasagna. And when everyone had food on their plates, the round of compliments erupted, feeling the urge to extol the dish and the person who had cooked it.

As I predicted, the half of the food was enough for everyone to be full. However, Jiwoo had baked red velvet cake for the dessert, and though I had never been a fan of sweets, I couldn’t refuse a piece.

“It’s so nice to hang out like this. The whole family together,” Hongbin’s father stated, as he gave his wife a peck. The scene playing in front of my eyes was adorable, and I wished I could be the same in their age. They’re obviously soulmates, and everyone should envy them.

“Actually, we have something we’d like to share with you all,” Hongbin started, smiling like an idiot at Jiwoo who was sitting across the table.

No fucking way!

Was I right? Is she pregnant? And she didn’t even tell me anything! What a bitch!

But wait a second; she’s on her fourth glass of wine! If it’s not pregnancy, then it must be…

“We’re getting married!” Jiwoo exclaimed, and everyone started to cheer for them. So, it was that news that she wanted to deliver. “We’re having the ring resized, but it is official.”

When I downed my wine, the rest of the guests stood up to congratulate the pair. I would gladly wait for my turn. The moment Jiwoo was released from her future mother-in-law; she smiled at me and sat in Baekhyun’s seat right beside me.

I couldn’t voice how much happy I was for her. I was also kind of envious, but mostly happy. They deserved each other, and I really supported their relationship. They had gone through a few rough patches, and it was about time they formalize their bond. So instead of stuttering throughout my spontaneous speech, I simply wrapped my hands around her, squealing.

Roughly twenty minutes later, when the shock died down a bit, everyone grabbed one’s wine glass, and we all moved to the couch, where Jiwoo and Hongbin shared all details about their future wedding.

To put it simply, it won’t be a simple reception but an all night long extravaganza.

Jiwoo wants an enormous, white, sleeveless princess gown with ten layers of tulle and a heart-shaped cleavage, while Hongbin will wear a simple black tuxedo paired with a back tie. Although nothing is booked yet, they want the reception to be held in June in a garden in outskirts of the city. Around two hundred guests. Moreover, they’re going to have a three-tier vanilla wedding cake and about a hectoliter of alcohol.

I almost got a headache when I estimated how much it’s going to cost them. It’s their wedding, though. Go big or go home. It’s the beginning of their life together, and they shouldn’t skimp on it.

Around ten o’clock, Hongbin’s parents called it a night and phoned for a cab, and we decided to carry on the celebration. It was still early, and I didn’t even get drunk yet.

“I’ll clean this up,” Jiwoo spoke, as she stood up. “Be here right back.”

“Wait, I’ll help you,” Hongbin offered, as he followed behind her, collecting the dirty plates after the supper. I was sitting on the couch with Baekhyun leaning against it, as he was sprawled on the floor.

In complete silence we watched their interaction; Hongbin with his sleeves rolled up was washing the dishes and Jiwoo was wiping them and placing them on the counter. They were giggling and bumping hips playfully, happiness just emitting from them.

“They’re disgusting,” Baekhyun commented, as he shook his head and took a gulp of beer. He was driven by envy, and I couldn’t blame him since I felt the same.

“That’s why I always try to meet them separately,” I remarked, and Baekhyun chuckled. “Unfortunately, it rarely works,” I added absentmindedly, as I was focused on another romantic scene in the kitchen; Jiwoo smacked Hongbin’s butt with the cloth, and Hongbin blew the bubbles at her in revenge.

“Yeah, the lovebirds are inseparable,” Baekhyun admitted with a sigh, and I leaned forward and clinked my glass against his beer bottle, saluting to that.

“Someday, you’re going to be like that, too,” I teased, and he almost choked on his drink. “All smitten and corny,” I added, making him look at me as if I just offended his mother.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, I want to throw up when I look at them, then how would I live with myself if I was like that too? It’s impossible,” he defended himself, and I only giggled in response. Baekhyun was a great guy, and if I didn’t make him feel like Jiwoo affected Hongbin, someone else could.

“On the second thought, I bet you’d be even more whipped,” I concluded before I started laughing at my suspicion. “Baekhyun, the henpecked husband.”

“Take that back!” Baekhyun whined, obtaining the lovebirds’ attention.

“What’s going on?” Hongbin yelled from the kitchen, interested in whatever was happening between us. He wasn’t helping Jiwoo set us up, right? “Please, tell me you aren’t fighting.”

“No, of course not,” Baekhyun denied the charges, as he chugged down his beer. He was probably too sober to deal with the lovebirds, and I’d feel the same if I wasn’t such a lightweight. “We’re just excited about the wedding, that’s all.”

“That’s amazing because there’s one more thing we’d like to request of you,” Hongbin started, and looked over his shoulder, waiting for Jiwoo to join him by his side. “You two should stand with us at the altar.”

“What do you say? Do you want to be my maid of honor?” Jiwoo asked me, and everyone waited for my reply. Baekhyun already agreed to be Hongbin’s best man, but I had doubts about it since I didn’t think I was suitable for that position. I had no idea how to help them organize the perfect wedding. But then, Baekhyun was just as clueless, so it should be fine.

“Of course, I’d be honored!”

After that long, eventful night everything went to hell. Baekhyun and I had no doubts it was the very beginning of the end, the epitome of apogee, or as I liked to call it—the wedding fever. Whenever I hung out with Jiwoo or Hongbin or them both the conversation would change to wedding discussion. (At one point, I even bet with Baekhyun, as we tried to confirm that hypothesis. It’s not important but we were right.)

When lovebirds were excited about planning, Baekhyun and I grew tired of it quite quickly.

Not even a month later after the engagement reception, they invited us over for a casual hangout. I wouldn’t have attended if they told me it was an ambush. Baekhyun fell for that deceit, too. (The look on his face when he saw a dozen of different invites was utterly priceless.)

“I don’t think I can do it any longer,” Baekhyun whispered into my ear when Jiwoo went to the kitchen for another bottle of wine. “It’s overwhelming,” he added, this time louder a notch, since he wasn’t afraid that they could hear it. Hongbin was talking on the phone in another room, whereas Jiwoo was fighting with the corkscrew.

“Well…in that case…brace yourself because it’s only gonna get worse,” I mused, chuckling as I downed my glass of wine. The wedding planning was only going to intensify, and though I was as fucked as Baekhyun, it still brought lots of joy when I thought about it. We were both stuck in that crappy situation, and humor based on our misery seemed suitable. There’s always a silver lining, even in these circumstances. We had each other’s backs whenever we wanted to vent about the wedding, and it actually helped us blow off some steam, though we were still quite grumpy when they invited us over for some unforeseen reception preparation.

“The wedding is in June for fuck’s sake!” Baekhyun spat bitterly, slowing losing all his patience. It was still a surprise that he managed to last this long without snapping. “It’s in twelve months for crying out loud!” He yelled, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Take it easy,” I advised him before a vein could pop out on his forehead. “And do you want to know a secret?” I asked, and Baekhyun leaned slightly, curious about what solution I had for his problem. “Just avoid them. Do you have any idea how many times I had to stay late at work this week? None, but Jiwoo thinks I worked overtime every day.”

Baekhyun stared at me in awe, his mouth open as if he was perplexed that I was able to lie to my best friend’s face in so cruel way. I understood her excitement about the most important day in her life, but I was already overwhelmed by the groundwork we had been doing for the past three weeks.

“You’re so mean,” Baekhyun whispered after a while, although I knew he was planning to do the same whenever Hongbin or Jiwoo would ask him for something. What a hypocrite!

“I’d rather be mean than deal with them every free moment I have,” I admitted, and Baekhyun smiled brightly, not expecting me to be so frank about that matter.

“True,” he agreed with me.

“Don’t use that excuse too often, though. They may suss us out if we blow them off too many times, okay?” I warned him, and Baekhyun nodded, realizing that our strategy wasn’t entirely faultless.

“Okay, who wants a refill?” Jiwoo asked when she came back to the living room with the opened bottle of wine. Having exchanged a meaningful gaze, Baekhyun tore his eyes away, as he cracked a faint smile toward Jiwoo, raising his empty glass, and I waited for my turn, needing another dose of alcohol in my system if I wanted to survive the night.

“Which invitation do you like the best?” I inquired, trying to fake my interest. I didn’t give a shit since all of them were very fancy and beautiful, but I knew that Jiwoo would go easy on me if I seemed indulged in the topic. In her eyes, Baekhyun would be the ‘silent’ one whom she had to force to join the discussion. “The one with the beige ribbon kicks ass.”

“Hmm…you sure?” Jiwoo contemplated, and I took a sip of my wine, knowing she’d reject my proposition; I wasn’t the person she trusted when it came to style, and even if I managed to choose the best option among all, she still would rebuff my suggestion. No hard feelings, though. It was a two-way street; I had been dismissing all her advice about hitting it off with Baekhyun, so overall, we’re even. “I think the powder pink ones would be better, you know, they will go better with the general wedding theme. And what do you think?” she asked, focusing her attention on Baekhyun. Just like in my prediction, she’d involve Baekhyun in the discussion, allowing me to enjoy my wine in silence.

“I think you’re right,” Baekhyun answered quickly, and I cocked my eyebrow, suspecting he hadn’t even listened to our conversation, agreeing with whatever. And he had dared to say he would have never been whipped. He was, and Jiwoo’s only his friend.

Pathetic.

“Okay, so right now, we have to choose one among ten pink ones,” Jiwoo stated ecstatically, sitting beside Baekhyun with a wide palette of invitations. “Which one’s your favorite?” she asked him, but Baekhyun looked at me as if I ought to have told him a correct answer. Too bad I couldn’t help him.

“Maybe you should discuss it with Hongbin; it’s your wedding, not mine,” Baekhyun made a point, but Jiwoo still wanted to know his opinion. She wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t ask for suggestion only to prove to you that you have none sense of fashion.

“You two are worth each other,” Jiwoo spoke a bit angrily, and Baekhyun and I exchanged glances, having no clue what she was implying. Almost as if she didn’t know I was pining for Baekhyun for quite a long time to no avail. “Both useless; why have I even invited you over?” she asked, and I wished I knew the answer to that.

When neither of us replied to her rhetorical question, Jiwoo rolled her eyes, and raised from her seat, flying off to Hongbin, knowing he’d take her seriously. Baekhyun and I weren’t much of a help, especially when we were slowly getting tipsy. It was difficult to pretend to care when being so lightheaded as I felt right now.

“When this hell will be over?” Baekhyun asked as he leaned against the backrest, tilting his head backward. He was looking at me with his sparkling eyes, and I was enchanted, unable to answer him when I started into the stars in his eyes. And when I did the impossible–tore my gaze away–I looked at his sharp jaw, losing my shit again. At this rate, I’d never get over him. If anything; I’d fall for him even more.

“Probably later than you think,” I snickered, and Baekhyun beamed at my response. Yeah, we were both awful people, and we were paying the price.

By midnight, Baekhyun and I were drunk, sprawled on the couch, yawning, whereas Jiwoo and Hongbin were sitting together in an armchair, hugging each other, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. Thankfully, I was shitfaced; otherwise, I’d have already thrown up at the sight in front of me.

“I should get going,” Baekhyun announced, as he tried to stand up, but failed to do so, falling back on the couch beside me.

“Nonsense, you two should stay the night,” Hongbin announced, not even allowing us to decline. Yeah, we had had a couple of glasses of wine, but we were still capable of getting to our homes safely. “The end of the discussion,” he added before either of us managed to argue.

Without any further commotion, Jiwoo went to their bedroom for some clothes so we could change, whereas Hongbin ran off, looking for some extra blankets and pillows.

Within fifteen minutes, Baekhyun and I were lying under the sheets in the living room. Needless to say, it was awkward and uncomfortable. The lights were off, Jiwoo and Hongbin were gone in their bedroom, and I was stiffened, afraid to move.

“Do you think they’re doing it?” Baekhyun asked, and I instantly turned to look at him. What the hell was that? Why was he thinking about it?

“I hope not,” I spoke uncertainly, “but they’ve just got engaged, they’re probably like rabbits,” I added matter-of-factly. Jiwoo knew I had been under the dry spell for way too long, and no matter how selfish she could get, she would never do that to me. For the sake of our friendship, she could sacrifice one night of sex.

“They better be quiet,” Baekhyun threatened, and I felt the urge to ask ‘or what you’re gonna do’, but I bit my tongue before the words left my mouth. “I don’t want to get reminded that I am not getting some every time I look at them,” he added, and I rolled my eyes, slowly becoming too tired to be having this conversation with him.

“Then maybe you should fall asleep before their moans get out of hand,” I proposed, and Baekhyun turned to me, giving me ‘a bitch please’ face. “What?”

“Are you seriously okay with that?”

“No, but if it bothers you so much, we could hit it off, muffling their sex sounds with ours. You know…like horny college students.” I spoke, catching Baekhyun off guard. Surely, he didn’t expect me to put it that way since he probably thought I was a prude. However, alcohol which was circulating in my blood made me bolder and more brazen.

“You’re drunk,” Baekhyun said in a reprimanding tone, making me regret I had even touched wine. I had a crush on him, and I wanted to be perfect in his eyes, and when he was telling me something like that, I sensed I disappointed him, and it made me feel terrible. “You better go to sleep, you’re saying nonsense,” he added, as placed his forefinger on my forehead, gently pushing my head on the pillow.

I couldn’t argue with him. I’d probably embarrass myself further.

“Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

“Goodnight.”

Baekhyun and I are just acquaintances who follow each other on many social media but never exchange any messages. We have no trouble talking when we meet, but neither of us had ever tried to reach out; I because I had always been too shy to make the first move, and Baekhyun, well…he must have had his reasons.

On Friday, though, he messaged me, and it was enough of a reason to freak out.

Him | 18:59 | got stood up by the lovebirds

Him | 18:59 | I could use a drink

Him | 19:00 | want to come with?

Why did he have such a bad timing? I already had plans, and I couldn’t (didn’t want to) cancel them. I was meeting my friends whom I hadn’t seen in a while, and I was dying to catch up with them. And when we finally set the date after weeks of organizing, I couldn’t ditch them.

Me | 19:04 | sorry

Me | 19:04 | already have plans

Me | 19:07 | how the hell did you get stood up???

Me | 19:07 | loser

I typed back quickly, as I threw the phone on the bed. I had twenty minutes till my bus, and I wasn’t done applying my make up yet.

I was meeting my friends at the club, and though I wasn’t planning on hooking up with anybody, I wanted to doll myself up, and at least, I could use the night to stroke my ego a bit. The feeling of being desired by many yet beyond the reach of all of them could do wonders to my self-esteem, and after the uneventful meetings with Baekhyun, I needed it more than ever.

Him | 19:08 | they’d choose sex over you too

Him | 19:09 | so you’re standing me up too

Him | 19:09 | you mean

Him | 19:09 | I’d never do that to you

It didn’t take him long to reply. He must’ve been really hurt by Jiwoo and Hongbin. And normally, I’d do everything to make him feel better. Today, unfortunately, I couldn’t. My attempts in consolation would have to be limited to texts.

Me | 19:23 | you’ll be fine

Me | 19:24 | it won’t be a first time

Me | 19:24 | you better get used to it

Quickly, I studied my reflection, grabbed the purse, and walked out of my apartment. I couldn’t be late; the girls would skin me alive.

On my way to the club, I kept texting Baekhyun. When he was done with venting about the lovebirds, we swiftly moved from one topic to another. Probably, people on the bus thought I was a lunatic smiling at my phone like this, but I didn’t care. He had reached out to me first, and though I didn’t have a lot of expectations, I was going to cherish whatever he was to give to me even if it was just a piece of conversation. I’d gladly take it.

Texting with him was so much fun that I almost missed my stop. Without waiting for his another reply, I threw my phone into my purse before I hopped off the bus, energetically walking down the pavement, choosing the shortest route to the club. I was wearing high heels which I rarely do, and I didn’t want my feet to start hurting before I even got there.

When I got inside, my friends, Miyoung and Namjoo, were already sitting at the bar, sipping on their cocktails. They didn’t notice me at first, but I couldn’t blame them; the music was blasting, and they were in the middle of a conversation.

“Hi,” I shouted when I approached them, and they instantly turned to look at me, both of them smiling. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, and it was nice to meet up. I needed the girls’ night, especially after all the wedding preparations I had gone through.

Shortly after, Miyoung’s boyfriend joined us, and we moved to the booth where it was only a bit quieter. Over sweet drinks, we talked about the current affairs and our plans for future, and though Miyoung was unaware, I could sense that their wedding would be next.

Slowly, I was getting intoxicated, and when the silence engulfed us between topics, I’d sneak a peek at my phone, exchanging texts with Baekhyun. The whole time we had known each other, I had no idea that texting him would be so fun, but now, when we hit it off via messages, I couldn’t force myself to stop.

And that’s exactly why I texted him the club’s address; Miyoung and her boyfriend were having the time of their lives on the dance floor and Namjoo was flirting with the guy who approached our table. There was nothing wrong with an additional company–the more the merrier, especially with Baekhyun cracking up one joke after another.

By the time Baekhyun arrived, I was sitting by the bar, talking with the bartender, listening to his recommendations. I wanted to try something new, and he was listing me the ingredients the cocktails were made with, and I rejected them whenever it consisted of something I didn’t like. I wasn’t picky–he was just keen on adding pineapple to every drink, so I had no choice.

“Hi there,” Baekhyun said, as he sat on the stool beside me, startling me at first. I was staring at the bartender’s show, and hearing Baekhyun’s voice so suddenly, I almost got a heart attack. “Whoa, you’re looking fancy, I feel so underdressed,” he commented, as he gawked at me in admiration. His eyes glistened with something, and I hope it wasn’t the club’s lighting. “What are you doing here all by yourself? Where are your friends?” Baekhyun asked, and I swiveled in the chair, scrutinizing the people on the dance floor in an attempt to find my friends.

“The couple dancing like forty-year-olds on a wedding - it's Miyoung and her boyfriend. And there’s Namjoo, making out with that guy over there,” I explained, briefly introducing them. Baekhyun nodded his head, comprehending the information. “Surprised I have other friends than Jiwoo?” I teased, and Baekhyun just smiled at me warmly.

“I’m actually relieved,” Baekhyun replied, and I hit his shoulder. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“I will,” I answered simply, but then I added, “when I feel the rhythm.”

“And when that’ll be?”

“The crowd isn’t ready for my sweet moves, you know,” I said, the cocktails I had drunk prior his arrival boosting my confidence. “Like seriously, they are no joke. The last time I went clubbing, one guy came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance in his music video.”

“And you rejected? Why would you do that?”

“Are you for real?” I asked, cocking up my eyebrow. “The guy acted so suspiciously I thought he’d pull me into his van the second we had left the club.”

“Oh, shit,” Baekhyun cursed, and I turned, trying to spot the factor behind his profanity.

“What is it?” I asked, clueless.

“That’s my ex, and we didn’t break up on good terms,” Baekhyun explained briefly, and I put my straw between my lips, not knowing how to reply to that, so instead I focused on my drink, trying not to think how stiff Baekhyun seemed. It’d be for the better if he faced the music by himself. “Fuck, she’s just seen me,” once again, he cursed, ducking his head down, as if it was to make him invisible, protecting him from his ex.

“Baekhyun, is that you?” a sweet voice asked, and I turned my head away, not wanting to see the woman’s face. I’d rather star in that guy’s MV than see what type of women Baekhyun was into. The last thing I wanted to do was to find out that Baekhyun was into sex bombs.

“Oh, hi, what a small world,” Baekhyun greeted her with a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same question!” she spoke excitedly, and I rolled my eyes. Fuck!, she seemed nice, and if she was as attractive as her voice, I was screwed. “We’re having an office party, but I think I’m the first one to show up. I should’ve seen it coming, they’re always late. And what about you; what brings you here?”

“You know…just having a drink with my girl,” Baekhyun spoke, and I almost choked on my drink when his hand landed on my thigh, turning me around, so I could properly meet his ex. “Today’s our monthiversary,” Baekhyun added, and I politely nodded my head, confirming his words. It was weird, and regardless of my crush on him, it was unacceptable. He’d pay for it.

“Oh, then I won’t be interrupting,” she said kindly, wishing us an auspicious date.

“Sorry, I didn’t think this through,” Baekhyun apologized when his ex walked away. “And thanks for keeping up with the act.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I answered nonchalantly before I swept his hand off my tight. “Hands off the merchandise, Byun.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologized once again, flashing a sheepish smile. “I owe you a drink.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a cheapskate!” I teased him playfully, and Baekhyun smiled at me, shaking his head in disbelief. “Anyway...I’m gonna hit the dance floor, and when I come back, there better be a drink waiting for me,” I said, and Baekhyun nodded his head, watching me head toward the crowd.

Having drunk a few drinks and cringed in front of his ex-girlfriend, I was more than ready to flee his presence, letting the rhythm take control over me. Keeping my distance from lone wolves scattered among the people, I swung my hips from side to side. I didn’t need a partner to rock my body, showing off my moves.

“We should go,” Miyoung screamed into my ear, explaining that her boyfriend had one drink too many that night and they had already called for a cab. “Are you coming with?” she inquired, and I shook my head; I had Baekhyun to keep me company. “Are you sure? Namjoo’s going, too,” Miyoung added but she couldn’t convince me to abandon Baekhyun.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I replied, and she nodded. “And don’t worry, I met my friend, you’re not leaving me alone. I’ll be safe.”

“Okay, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she teased, and I grinned at her before I gave her a hug. “Text me when you get home safely.”

“Okay mom,” I answered her with a roll of my eyes. When she was about five meters away she mouthed something which I read ‘don’t have too much fun’, but I could always get it wrong. Though, it was unlikely since she had used to use that line pretty often.

The next song played by the DJ wasn’t as good as the previous one, so having lost my interest I came back to the counter, sitting down beside Baekhyun.

“Whoa, you weren’t lying,” he commented, and I just shrugged, looking at the drink which he had got me. “You know how to move.”

“That’s creepy. You were staring, weren’t you?” I asked him, but Baekhyun just shot me a glance which was saying ‘are you kidding me?’ Of course, he had stared at my killer moves!

“I was, just like every guy in the club,” he admitted shamelessly, making me blush. I didn’t care, though. I had been drinking and dancing, my face had to be red despite the make-up I had put on. “You can’t blame me, I’m a simple man.”

Oh, so Baekhyun wasn’t completely indifferent.

He could be swayed.

Even by me.

When we finished our drinks, Baekhyun insisted on walking me home, and though, it was a shame he didn’t have an ulterior motive to do so, I couldn’t bring myself to reject his proposal. It was fun to be around him alone, and I’d talk to him until he’d want to stop.

“I’m hungry, should we get some pizza?” I asked when I felt a twist in my stomach. I had drunk all these drinks, and now I was craving something greasy, so my hangover wouldn’t be so severe in the morning.

“You’re reading in my mind,” Baekhyun admitted, and I pulled out my phone, scrolling down my contact list, searching the number of the pizza place near my house.

“With a lot of meat, some pepperoni peppers, and some extra cheese?” I asked Baekhyun, and he instantly agreed. At least pizza topping-wise we were a match.

“Marry me,” Baekhyun said, yet I couldn’t treat him seriously.

Trying to refrain myself from grinning, I cleared my throat when someone answered my call with a generic greeting. Quickly, I recited our order, hoping I didn’t sound too drunk from them to assume it was a prank of some sort.

“Great! Thank you,” I said as I hung up. “Our delivery should be done within thirty minutes, so we better speed up if we want to make it before the delivery guy,” I added, and without any further questioning, Baekhyun picked up his pace.

“Should we stop by the liquor store? You know that beer and pizza make the most iconic duo, right?” Baekhyun questioned excitedly, and I laughed so hard, I forgot about my feet which hurt like hell because of the heels I was wearing.

“I should have some in the fridge,” I remembered, and Baekhyun smiled in relief. “But if I’m mistaken, we would have to settle for coke or tequila. Choose your fighter,” I added, and it was Baekhyun’s turn to chuckle.

“Okay, so I guess the problem is solved,” he said, looking at me, noticing my weird walking. “Are you alright? Do you want me to carry you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; I’m a big girl,” I declined his offer, though I was very tempted to agree since it would be a perfect excuse to touch him. With a glint in his eyes, Baekhyun took a step towards me, as if attempting to lift me up, but then I mirrored his actions, stepping away from him. Talking to him was addicting, and I wasn’t ready to find out how being held by him would feel. At this point, I’d never get over him.

“Ah…the bitter taste of rejection,” Baekhyun mused playfully, inhaling the night’s air. “So that’s what it feels like…utterly terrible,” he added, as we started walking.

“You seem you’ve got over it rather quickly,” I remarked, and Baekhyun just smiled.

“What’s the point of dwelling on so much?” He asked, but I didn’t know the answer. Baekhyun was right, and if everybody had his mindset, break-ups would be much easier to deal with. “I tried. It didn’t work, and I have no regrets.” Why did it sound so simple?

“Are you a life coach? You definitely sound like one,” I teased, but Baekhyun didn’t even bother to comment on that. “You’re not charging me for this session now, are you?”

“The first session is free, but when you come for an advice again, you better take some cash. I ain’t cheap.” Baekhyun carried on with the charade, and I started laughing. “But then again, you gave me a tip how to deal with Jiwoo and Hongbin, so I may give you a discount.”

“How much? Fifty percent off?”I asked excitedly, clapping my hands vigorously.

“It’s a total rip-off! I thought of giving you like…I don’t know…five percent?”

“Hypothetical discount of a hypothetical session…” I wondered as if trying to calculate how much this friendship with Baekhyun would hypothetically cost me. “I think I hypothetically can’t afford your companion. Sorry, but I have to save up for the lovebirds’ wedding gift. And speaking of which; what are you getting them?”

“What? Do I have to give them a gift? I thought the torture I was going through was enough to make up for the gift. It isn’t, is it?” he asked, but I firmly shook my head. “Damn, I don’t know, they already have everything.”

“Right?” I asked, being glad that finally, someone agreed with me. Jiwoo and Hongbin were a terrible couple; they possessed everything, so buying them something new verged on a miracle. “I don’t know, either. We could have a whip-round, so we could club together for their honeymoon. As far as I recall, they haven’t decided on the destination yet.”

“Right now, the only trip I can afford is a bus ride,” Baekhyun retorted, and at this point, my stomach started to hurt due to excessive laughing. It’s his fault, though I wasn’t mad.

“It’s okay; they have expensive taste, anyway,” I answered with a shrug. Jiwoo and Hongbin would probably like a trip to Hawaii or any other fancy island, and that kind of entertainment was way over our budget. “Then, we have to get them something handmade, something that cannot be purchased at the regular store.”

“This wedding is so problematic,” Baekhyun commented, and I nodded, agreeing with him. “Why have I even agreed to participate in the preparations? It’s too much of a hassle.”

“Pretend it’s a practice before your wedding,” I advised, but Baekhyun just rolled his eyes at me. “What?” I creased my eyebrows, as I realized he shot me a glare as if I was an idiot.

“I won’t be having my wedding, not when it’s so much work.”

“You don’t mean that,” I started, uncertain how to defend my stance. On one hand, I realized how much preparation the wedding needed, but then when you’re going it with the person you love, it’s worth the effort. He just didn’t meet his soul mate yet.

“Of course, I do! Do you think I’m kidding?” I bit the inside of my cheek, as I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to have an argument with him about it, and thankfully, fate was on my side tonight, since we already reached my apartment.

“We’re here,” I announced excitedly, showing Baekhyun the way upstairs. By the time we climbed the third floor, I was panting. Baekhyun was probably too, but he was better at faking. “One more and we’re there,” I spoke, guiding him to my modest flat.

Clumsily, I fought with the lock, but Baekhyun was checking something on the phone, not realizing how much time it took me to open the door.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said, once I swung the doors open and threw the keys on the counter. Quickly, I kicked off my shoes, and while Baekhyun was busy with studying my apartment, I made a beeline to the kitchen for two glasses and the unfinished bottle of wine.

“It’s cute,” Baekhyun commented, as he sat down on the couch, his eyes still roaming around the interior. “You’re reading in my mind, I was slowly getting sober.” He said casually, reaching for the glasses, setting them on the coffee table in front of him.

“Do you mind if I change?” I mentioned, pointing at my outfit. He thought I looked amazing wearing it, but I wasn’t going to suffer in that dress, just because he enjoyed the view. I’d rather sit in a simple T-shirt and pajama pants; my chances with getting into his pants were lost a long time ago. It was just a friendly hangout, and I wanted to be comfortable.

“Yeah, sure,” Baekhyun answered, beaming at me with one of his bright smiles. “You go change, and I’ll pour us wine,” he added, and I ran off to the bedroom, pulling the dress over my head. Baekhyun was sitting in my living room, and I wasn’t going to waste time being away from him. I had done a lot of stupid things, but this one wasn’t to be another one.

Swiftly, I searched for the set of clothes which now was my pajamas and changed into it. It took me three minutes tops, but when I returned to Baekhyun, he already paid for our delivery, setting the pizza box on the coffee table.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked, taking a seat beside him, reaching for the biggest slice of pizza with the pieces of meat.

“Don’t mention it, you’ll pay the next time,” he answered casually, and I almost choked, given the fact that Baekhyun hinted he’d not be entirely grossed out by the idea of meeting me again. It was comforting, but then I didn’t want to read too much into it. One nice word from him, and I’d seriously start to plan our wedding which was obviously ridiculous.

“Obviously,” I said, trying to sound casual. It was such a simple gesture on his side, but then, it gave something to look forward to. He had better mean it.

Munching on the food, I quickly reached for a remote to turn on the TV. Of course, I had left it on TLC, and right now, my guilty pleasure was being aired. Fucking Say ‘Yes’ to the Dress! What else could it be?

“You seriously watch that crap?” Baekhyun asked in hopes I’d deny. Instead of firmly shaking my head, I shrugged, flashing him a sheepish smile. “Whoa, you’re really something.” He added, and I quickly took a gulp of wine, buying myself to come up with a convincing lie. How could I vent about wedding preparations when I was watching shows like this in my free time? I couldn’t let him think I’m a hypocrite.

“You know…I’m a chick, and it’s a chick channel. You can’t blame me.” I defended myself, but Baekhyun didn’t seem too convinced. “It’s like I’d judge you for watching Top Gear. That would be weird, wouldn’t it?” Baekhyun nodded, chewing on his food. “That’s what I thought,” I spoke confidently, returning to the greasy slice of pizza.

“Do you think you have more of that?” Baekhyun asked, tilting his head in the wine’s direction. After he had poured us drinks, the bottle was empty and judging by the look on his face, he wished to have a refill. “Another glass would help me erase this terrible scene from my mind,” he added, mentioning the argument the bride had with her bridesmaids. “I hope Jiwoo will be just as picky as that chick. You deserve it for making me watch.”

Rolling my eyes, I set the uneaten pizza slice back in its box, as I stood up, “let me check, I think we’ve run out of wine, but I should have some whiskey on the stock, is that okay?”

“I just want to forget, really, a bottle of bleach would do.”

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun angst #exo smut #baekhyun scenario #exo #happy birthday baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fanfiction #fanfiction #friends to lovers au #wedding au #slowburn #baekhyun slowburn

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seriouslyhooked · 6 years

Text

Scoring Your Love (Part 7/?)

Modern AU where Killian is a world famous soccer star who has hit rock bottom and been sentenced to the place where ‘football’ legends go to die – America. While here he crosses paths with Emma, an up and coming musician and film scorer who challenges everything he thought he knew and makes him want more than the game he’s always loved. Will be filled with fluff for days, and eventually rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six. Story also on FF here and AO3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So another chapter is here and it’s the night of the first date! However, where I originally planned to have Killian and Emma’s POV in one chapter, I ended up writing something long enough that it feels right to split it in two. I know, I know, I can hear some of you cursing my name from here, but not to worry, the next chapter is already written and I will be posting it next week so the wait will not be too long! Anyway, before the date, Killian has a bit of a rough patch to get through, but rest assured we will end firmly in a fluffy place. I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for reading!

“So tonight’s the big night, huh?”

The question from David at the end of the day’s practice poked at the already present sense of awareness and apprehension that Killian had been grappling with since Emma accepted his invitation for a date this morning. David had held off on the interrogation during practice, despite the fact that Killian had clearly been distracted by planning and getting all of the details of his intended evening secured. It was a tricky task, but Killian was up to the challenge, and if he had to answer some questions from a well-meaning friend for a few minutes before heading out, that wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe it would save him a few minutes of pacing his apartment as he waited the acceptable amount of time before he could go get Emma.

“It is.”

“And you managed to get it all to work? The dinner and the castle and everything?”

“It’s not a castle, mate,” Killian replied before thinking of how to describe the huge estate that they’d be going to tonight. “And even if it were, that’s not the part that matters.”

“Of course not. Because why just woo a woman with a castle when you can also include some long cherished childhood memory?” David teased and Killian sighed. “But seriously though, you need any help or anything?”

“I think I know how to plan a date, Nolan,” Killian answered.

“Right but this isn’t just a date. It’s the date,” David asserted. “This one has to be right, man. Because if it all goes like I’m hoping mine will go with Mary Margaret, it could very well be the last first date you ever have.”

Killian didn’t have the ability to respond to David’s words. On the one hand they were cheesy and ridiculous, but there was a part of Killian that had been thinking the exact same thing. If things could already feel this right with Emma when they’d barely progressed at all, what was to say this relationship wasn’t heading in a direction Killian had never considered before? Chemistry like this didn’t just happen, and this sense of rightness didn’t come with every new fling. Killian knew that it made Emma special, that it made her more important than all the women who he’d known before her, but luckily he was saved from having to give a verbal response to his friend when a snort sounded from across the locker room.

“Shit, Dave, you really think that way, don’t you? Like life is some kind of fairytale or something.” Will’s words dripped with skepticism as he shook his head furiously. “That’s just bollucks! All of it is rubbish. Jones is going to go out, charm the girl, show her a few moves, and get her out of his system. At least he will if he has any damn sense at all in that thick skull of his.”

Killian’s hand flexed into a fist at the insinuation that he was using Emma somehow, but he bit back the instinct to bark at a man who, despite the comment, had proven himself to be mostly good. Killian took a steadying breath, reminding himself of something Graham had told him when he first arrived weeks ago. Once upon a time Will Scarlet had been the kind of man to believe in such happy endings and perfect matches, but the woman who he’d chosen to build those hopes with hadn’t chosen him back. As a result Will was about as anti-love and anti-romance as a man could be, and that was saying something given all the notorious players and commitment-phobes Killian had met in this sport.

“Is that the plan, Jones?” A female voice asked from behind him. Killian turned to the doorway where Regina Mills now stood and tried not to grimace. Their team owner was completely unfazed by the fact that this was a men’s area and that a number of them were in varying stages of undress, but then again Regina saw herself as a Queen and the others all seemed to grant her such allowances. “Are you dating this Miss Swan to ‘get her out of your system?’”

“Can’t see how my plans are anyone’s business,” Killian grumbled, holding his ground but it only made Regina grin wickedly as she flicked her wrist in a dismissive motion for the others.

“We need the room. Chop, chop.”

Despite how badly Killian didn’t want that one on one interaction, the others all obeyed the order, hustling out as she’d told them to. The only man who delayed at all in his leaving was Robin. He and Regina shared a look, and Killian was glad for what it said. His coach was warning Regina to watch herself, but Regina just shrugged and murmured some less than convincing promise not to make this too painful. Killian bit back a laugh at the thought – with Regina there were few kinds of interactions that didn’t end in at least mild discomfort.

“Now then, as I was saying,” Regina continued when the space was cleared. “You and this Swan girl – how serious is this?”

“Serious enough,” Killian responded. He was not willing to discuss this further with a woman he barely knew and who fancied that she had him on some kind of leash. Maybe the power rested more securely on her side of this dynamic, but Killian wasn’t interested in taking her crap to the extent that the rest of the team was. He’d resist as best he could while still preserving some kind of alliance between them.

“That’s what I figured,” Regina said, pulling a file from her purse as she did. She handed it his way, confusing him in the process but she went on to explain herself. “That’s everything there is to know about Emma no-middle-name Swan.”

“You’re kidding,” Killian said, truly thinking it was some kind of joke at first, and then he saw her face. “Are you mad?! You ran a background check? Why in the bloody hell did you do that?!”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Regina asked with a forced laugh. “I looked into her because you care about her, and since you are my team’s most valuable asset, I have to take precautions. We don’t want you falling into bed with the wrong kind of people, do we Killian?”

The rage that Killian felt in this moment was undeniable and impossible to tamper down. He could feel it boiling over, and biting his tongue would not do. The only hope he had was to quell it somehow, to choose a cold but cutting tactic instead of screaming in the face of the woman who owned his last chance at the career he had worked so hard for.

“I’m only going to say this once, Regina, so listen well: whatever usual play you have, whatever manipulation you’re hoping to wield, it will not work. What Emma and I have is private, it’s ours, and it’s not up for debate. I don’t want whatever dirt you believe that you’ve dug up. I will not be reporting aspects of my personal life to you in any capacity. And most importantly, I will not listen to you belittle Emma. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Regina said with a feigned sweetness. “Besides, we all have a past. And I’d say Miss Swan has done a good job of overcoming hers. I mean an Academy Award nomination at her age? That’s not easily done.”

“Excuse me?” Killian asked, not following Regina in the slightest.

“You didn’t know?” Regina asked, actually shocked. “Oh well, surprise! Seems your Swan is a prodigy of sorts and this year she got a little credit for it. Of course movie scoring doesn’t really mean that much in a town like this but statues are statues right?”

Killian didn’t bother responding, not knowing what to even say to these little morsels of Hollywood speak, and finally Regina seemed pleased enough with herself and her information dump to leave. Killian meanwhile was reeling, not because of the discovery of Emma’s talents and distinction, but because of the way he’d found out. It felt important to him that when it came to Emma he leave the flow of things to her. For that reason he had resisted the urge to google her or look into her past, even when she’d told him of her work as a music designer. He’d been tempted all week to learn more about her, but Emma was a cautious person by nature, guarded and clearly hurting from some things in her past, and it felt unfair for him to know things she hadn’t told him yet. Trust had to be earned, and Killian was hell bent on earning all things from Emma.

Truth be told, however, his frustration with Regina, as strong as it might be, couldn’t stifle the immense surge of pride that came rushing into his heart for Emma. This happiness for her that bubbled up in his chest couldn’t be denied, and nor could the smile that appeared at his lips. Killian hadn’t known Emma very long but he knew she had to be gifted at her work. The way she’d talked about it and the way she was focused and driven and always pushing forward made it clear that this was something she had true passion for. That being said, Killian could only imagine her at the Oscars, dressed up, looking absolutely breathtaking but not truly being interested in any of it. Emma Swan might define beauty itself, but she was real in a way that would make an award show like that distasteful to her. Killian only wished he could have been there to see her in a state like that and support her in those hours of need.

“Bloody hell,” he said aloud then, having some things finally click into place. “That was her other engagement.”

Well now he felt even more like an arse than he had previously at his behavior. No wonder Emma hadn’t been bending over backwards to give up her plans and have dinner with him: the Academy Awards were more important than a first date with a practical stranger could ever be. He didn’t know whether to laugh or berate himself for it either, but either way it did no good to stay stuck in the past. All that he could do was be in the now, and ensure that this evening went as well as he was hoping. As such, he gathered the rest of his gear and headed out with only a few quick goodbyes to his teammates.

Though he’d only asked Emma out today, Killian had actually been planning this evening for some time. Two nights ago he stumbled upon the idea of a perfect first date with Emma but he stayed patient, looking for the right time to ask her. Thank God she’d said yes to tonight because Killian didn’t know how much longer he could wait. A week without physically seeing Emma had been hard, even with the phone calls and the texts lighting up each day. It was crazy, but he missed her when they were apart, even though they knew each other so little. But Killian had long ago abandoned any attempt at the ‘rational’ when it came to Emma. There was no trackable logic behind the emotions he already had, and in the end he had to do what David was always suggesting. He had to follow his heart in the hope that it would lead him where he so deeply desired to be.

Thoughts of Emma and of the upcoming evening consumed Killian as he got ready at home and then drove the span of road from his place to hers. Those thoughts were simultaneously good but also nerve wracking. Not since his year eight winter formal had Killian ever suffered such a bought of nerves over a girl. Even then, the fear had been sparked by the newness of interactions with the female sex and not the girl herself. But tonight, as he made his way through the streets of LA, Killian was beset with a showing of butterflies befitting a teenager.

Killian knew the stakes at play tonight and he felt the need for things to go well. It felt heavy, as if the weight of the future rested on his shoulders, but in the moments where it almost felt too much, he’d think of something Emma had said or the sound of her laugh, which he’d become more acquainted with during their phone calls the past few days. Those moments had a way of clearing out the uncertainty, and by the time he was at her front door he was clinging to hope even as he felt riddled with the energy of a momentous first date. He knocked immediately, not thinking of force or the number of knocks, only knowing that the sooner he saw Emma, the happier he would be.

Blessedly Emma appeared in seconds, opening the door and granting him a sense of peace in as she did, but no sooner had he calmed at seeing her then his heart beat skipped, his pulse went up, and his mind flooded with the vision that stood before him. Emma Swan was an undeniable beauty, perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but tonight she had forsaken her usual comfortable clothes for a look so scintillating he nearly forgot to breathe. With her hair cascading over her shoulder in golden waves, and a red dress made of lace that wasn’t too short or cut too deep, but fit her to perfection, Emma would give any model or actress in this city a run for their money. Her green eyes were brilliant, looking at him with the same kind of hunger he was feeling, and then she bit her lush red lips before whispering her greeting.

“Hey, you made it.”

Killian didn’t have words in this moment. Hell, he didn’t have much in the way of coherent thought except to think that she was exquisite, but then he was moving towards her, guided only by instinct and need. Emma looked surprised for a second as his hands encircled her and his lips descended down upon hers, but as soon as they made contact Emma’s mouth yielded to his and the taste of her filled Killian up completely. He was consumed by Emma, and never wanted this to end. A kiss like this stoked the best kind of flame. It breathed life into a man, made him wonder if there was anything better the world over, and then assured him there wasn’t. It was soul searing and so sweetly sublime he hated to pull back, but then a voice in the back of his mind reminded Killian that this was not how things were supposed to be. You didn’t kiss the girl first thing. You had to convince her of your merit, show her the date you’d prepared, and then maybe she’d allow you such a luxury when the evening was over.

When reason returned to the forefront of his mind once more Killian stepped back. He tried to compose himself but stumbled with the words in his mind. By the time they left his mouth, Killian felt almost bashful, like a boy instead of the grown man he was.

“Apologies, love. I lost my head for a second at seeing you. I’m sor-,”

Killian didn’t get the chance to finish that statement as Emma pulled him down by the collar of his jacket, filling the space between them again and taking command of her own kiss. This one, though not as intense as the first, packed an even more powerful punch. For Emma told him with this brush of their lips that she was in this too, and that she didn’t fault him in anyway for going on instinct instead of sticking the course.

“I couldn’t let you apologize for a kiss like that,” Emma said when they finally broke apart. Her eyes were watching him, and something she saw in his face or expression made her smile. She was already glowing, already this radiant creature he could barely behold, but with this warm smile, and with the sensually lingering lust coloring the jade of her eyes, she was nothing short of perfection. “Honestly I should be thanking you.”

“Thanking me?” Killian asked with a gruff laugh. “Are my kissing abilities so undeniable they deserve gratitude, Swan?”

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head as she ran her hand over his chest lightly, but Killian knew from the faint blush on her cheeks that she had given his ‘talent’ quite a bit of thought.

“I was thanking you for not making us wait,” Emma clarified. “I know I said we should take things slowly, but… well it’s been a long week of wondering, and now I know.”

“Aye, love,” Killian replied, not needing her to elaborate as his hand came to cup her cheek. He understood her meaning. It had been a given in his heart that Emma would be spectacular, and any kind of intimacy with her would live up to those heights, but still – to feel it was something else. He felt categorically changed by what had just happened, and yet he also had complete and utter faith that it would not be their last kiss, only the first of many. “Now we know, and there’s no going back. Only forward, together.”

With that final promise, Killian offered his hand to this woman who enchanted him, waiting only a brief moment before Emma slipped hers in his grasp. Then, without further ado, he led her to an evening that Killian knew would forever change him and start the path to a whole new life he’d never actually dreamed could be real. His only hope was that Emma would feel the change too, and that she’d find herself falling just as swiftly and surely as he was already falling for her.

Post-Note: Okay, okay! I know that I said the date was coming this week, and I realize that I have conveniently not shown a bulk of the date – but I hope you will all be satisfied with the very healthy dose of fluff I provided you all. I have written so many CS love stories at this point, almost all of them including a first date, but I always love the ones where Emma and Killian don’t want to wait for the end to share a kiss. For this story it just felt right to me that we have that, and I hope you all will agree and that you have enjoyed the chapter. As always, I am so grateful that you’re all reading and commenting and messaging me your thoughts. It’s so fun writing a new story and interacting with all of you about it and I hope you’ll all continue with me as the story progresses. As I said, next week I will be back with the second half of the date, and in the meantime I hope you have a lovely rest of your weekend!

#captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs au #cs mc #emma swan #killian jones #the whole storybrooke gang #captain swan au #scoring your love #scoring your love au #scoring 7 #cs soccer fic #soccer star killian #ouat soccer fic #musician!Emma

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moriangelhere · 6 years

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Things you should know about me in a relationship

So I had a dream during my nap yesterday about my ex trying to get in the bathroom where I was despite me telling him no and forcing the door closed. Then I had another dream where I beat the living shit out of my other ex... So I just had an idea that I should just lay down some stuff for you guys. These are just things I’ve experienced while dating those two fucking assholes.

1. I’m in one or two moods: I need to do everything in a certain amount of time or I’ll die or Idgaf let me sleep. Don’t tell me to drop everything because at this time in my life, there are more important things than you so either be patient or gtfo. As for me wanting to sleep, yeah I’ll be a bit grumpy but I’ll get out of bed. I’ll get out of bed quicker if food is provided.

2. Don’t call me while I’m at work unless it’s an emergency or at school. Don’t call me and not have anything to say because I’ve got shit to do. If you really want to hear from me or send some sort of communication, text me. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

3. If for some reason we aren’t having enough time together, make time. I’ll get up early to spend the morning with you if I’m not too tired but you’ve got to be willing to do the same. Don’t make plans with your friends and family after I ask you if we could meet up during the weekend. If it’s something you can’t get out of and or it requires the entire day, then invite my ass.

4. I get that you want to vent to me about your family and maybe some of your friends, but don’t talk shit and expect me to join you. I don’t know those people like you do. I’ll vent about the people in my life too but don’t you dare talk shit about them. You can express your opinions and concerns about my relationship with other people but not in a way where it comes off as if you downright hate the person.

5. If there’s something bothering you or if I did something to offend or upset you, tell it to my fucking face. We’ll work it out. If you don’t, it comes off as if you don’t trust me or you think very little of how I handle things.

6. I’m glad to meet your friends, I’m ok with you hanging out with them, inviting them over, and I’m proud of you going out of your way to help a friend in need. I won’t get between yall no matter their gender. But if they are talking shit about me, do something about it and don’t bring them around me. Do NOT invite them or have your friends around when it’s suppose to be our time.

7. Now I’ve dated a guy who went from believing in God, to not believe in God to now who believes in pantheism. The other guy is an atheist. Both have confined these parts about themselves to me and both of these boys haven’t really told their families who more or less are Christians. I am a Christian but I do not force my religion onto others nor do I share some qualities of certain Christians because I know humans will (and have) twisted words of faith to benefit themselves and to bring others down. But under any circumstances do NOT start a mother fucking religious “debate” with me. I was open to the idea of dating guys outside my religion as long as they respect mine, I’ll respect theirs but fuck that. Give me a Christian man.

8. Heaven forbid if you somehow find the strength and nerve to tell me what the hell I should eat. Bitch, I’ll eat whatever the fuck I want to eat and don’t you dare try to pull the “I don’t want you to be overweight” as if I won’t still be beautiful if I gain some weight or as if I don’t know how to take care of my body. I’ve been petite the majority of my life, all that weight you’re worrying about is ghosting me. It unfriended and blocked me. It really pisses me off when you’re muffin top ass is telling me this.

9. You can tease me about the things I like because I’ll tease you back about the things you like. But if you talk shit about the clothes I wear, the shows and films I like, the music I like, the car I drive, what I eat, to the fact I’m a major introvert...FUCK YOU. You’re done. And if you breathe some shit about my pet(s) and or my artwork. I will get fucking violent. I will make you crawl out of the relationship battered and bruised.

10. Apologize to me if you hurt my feelings. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re right, I don’t want to deal with you if you hurt my feelings. I don’t even want to talk to you so don’t try to stir a conversation up as if nothing fucking happened. Whether I’m right about something or not, I will apologize if I hurt your feelings because I wouldn’t want you to be sad or angry.

11. I’ll try to get into and understand your hobbies. But don’t disregard mine or others. It makes you look like a pretentious prick.

12. One of my exes stopped smoking as soon as we dated and he found out that I wouldn’t have dated him if he was still smoking. I realize some people have smoking habits and that it’s hard to quit. But this guy, he was really doing it and I was proud of him until I saw him smoking while drinking a beer at a party. I was about to break up with him on the spot but I thought this was a relapsed or that he was hiding the fact that it’s hard for him to quit. Nope. He said he only smokes now when he drinks. I should’ve went through with it and dumped his ass but that would’ve been petty wouldn’t it? Well, idgaf now. You smoke, I won’t date you. If you stopped but smoke again, I will dump you on the fucking spot. I don’t have time for this shit. No smoking and no drugs.

13. If you drink, I don’t mind but I will probably keep my distance from you the rest of the night. Don’t take it too personally though. I don’t like drunks and I’ve had a bad history with people who do drink. I don’t drink myself and I won’t force anyone to not drink. Just don’t try to force me or persuade or guilt me into drinking with you. It’ll only annoy me.

14. I don’t like parties. Let me rephrase that... I don’t like parties with people I don’t know and or close to. I don’t like big parties in general. So if I come across awkward and or anti-social or “fake”, just know I’m uncomfortable in that kind of environment. Don’t get upset with me about it. I’ll endure by staying and I’ll try my best to be “normal” because I do want to be a bit more social and I want you to be happy. But I would be so grateful if you for some reason decided to leave and take me somewhere quieter or with a more relaxing environment.

15. If I say we’re moving to fast, that’s not a fucking reason for you to try to persuade me it’s normal. When I’m not ready, I’m not fucking ready. Whether it’s to meet your parents, for us to move towards the sexual part of our relationship, talking about our future such as living together, us living together, marriage, children and what our daily lives would be like. I don’t care what your experiences are in a relationship, but if someone is not ready, it’s not your fucking decision to make or chance to persuade them into doing things you want.

16. Whatever your parents thoughts are on me, your opinion is the most important. I will respect your parents but for the love of God don’t leave me alone with them!!!

17. Don’t get mad when I don’t want to do anything sexual with you. Especially if you’ve been ignoring me all day. If I’m tired or not in the mood or not ready, leave me alone. If you say you want to watch something with me, then let’s watch something. I’m not about that Netflix and chill life. You can only turn Netflix or music on when we are about to fool around just for background noise.

18. Living together is a huge step and we would have to know each other for years before you even consider the idea. I had to move out of my old house for reasons and I was looking for a place to stay. I couldn’t afford a place of my own and I wasn’t making enough money to live with my friends who had room (pay bills and buy groceries and stuff) and my ex wanted me to move in with him and his parents and his two little brothers and his two tiny dogs. We were only dating for a couple of months and I thought this was a bad idea. What makes matters worse is that they barely had room for me and I wasn’t allowed to bring one of the dogs I was taking care of. So I’m like no, we’re a package deal. If move, he moves with me and no I’m not depending on anyone else to take care of him. Luckily I found somewhere else to stay with my dog and my ex had to move not too soon after all the way to Virginia that was just on the boarder of Washington. Yeah, no. He was still talking about me moving in with him and for some reason he couldn’t get it through his head that I did not have enough money, I am not moving anywhere just to be with some guy, his family moves around too much, I’ve got too much shit to take care of here, I know he didn’t want me to bring my dog but again we’re a package deal, and we haven’t been dating long enough for all that.

19. I one day would like to travel around the world and live somewhere other than the place I grew up but now is not the right time. If I move, it’ll be for the right reasons such as schooling or my career path and I would have money. I’m not going to live somewhere just for a guy and struggle in a place where my needs aren’t being met. My ex asked me if I would travel with him around the world due to a career he wanted. I said sure because I thought he meant, traveling as a vacation but always have a place we could call home. But no he was talking about being stationed for months to years at various places and always on the move. Fuck that! Just because your fucking family likes to play hot potato and travel wherever the fuck they feel like, doesn’t mean everyone is like that. And how the fuck he came up with the idea of me being afraid to leave home I’ll never understand.

20. I don’t want kids yet. I’m on the boarder line on whether or not I want to adopt a kid but as far as giving birth. Fuck that shit.

21. I was okay with the idea of having a simple marriage to where it’s a small wedding to not having a wedding at all. Then for some damn reason, I said I was okay with not getting married because all that mattered was to be with the man I loved. Fucking stupid romantic girl was I. Now, yes. I do want to get married. Idgaf about the history of marriage. I want someone to be my forever. I want to believe there is a thing called a soul mate. I want to get married and I want to have a wedding. I don’t want a big wedding, but I want it to be one the happiest day of our lives. If you don’t want a future with me, quit wasting my fucking time. I don’t need you.

22. If I get sick, don’t expect me to stay awake for you. I get really sick and would just sleep all day and all night. I would occasionally get up to use the bathroom or eat a snack (my appetite will drop) but that’s about it. I don’t want you to get sick or to go out of your way to do anything extra for me. Let me rest and just keep a eye on me in case I get worse or if I’m having a nightmare.

23. I love massages but if you’re not good at it, get some bath salts, bath bombs, bath oils, bubble bath soap, and join me in the bath.

24. Don’t bring up my ex(es) the fuck out of nowhere. In time we’ll talk about exes but don’t bring them up asking about my feelings for them, if I’m attracted to them still, or if I still talk to them. It makes you look like a jealous creep whose being very clingy and lack the confidence in our relationship.

25. Don’t belittle the things I care about or what I think matter. I stop giving a fuck about a lot of things, don’t make yourself part of that list.

26. Don’t tell me how I should be feeling or assume you know why I’m feeling a certain type of way, and don’t get mad when I don’t feel something either.

27. Before we dated, my ex was on a dating app and he saw one of my friends there. He swiped left because “She was too pretty that she had to be a guy in drag”....Wtf. Never pull some shit like that. What the fresh hell do you expect me to say to some shit like that?!

28. If I’m tired from working and school and do other responsibilities, don’t say things like I need vitamins or to work out and eat healthy or compare your life to mine and say I shouldn’t be tired.

29. Deflate that big ass head of yours that's housing your ego and quit mansplaining things to me or your attempts to. You’re not always right and the times that you are, I either already know or it doesn’t fucking matter and you just like to hear your own god damn voice.

30. I’m not going to take a four hour drive that ends up being six hours because of traffic just to visit you in your igloo of a house for two days every other weekend... That’s a full twelve hours I spend in my car on the road in a chaotic and stressful traffic. I wouldn’t feel refresh and I would have to get up early in the bloody morning for school you selfish douche.

31. It’s not easy to find a job and I’m not going to drive over an hour to a job that pays minimum wage everyday. That’s a waste of gas and I’ll be loosing more money than I’m earning because I keep having to fill my car with stinking gas everyday!!

32. If you bite your nails or the skin around them. I know it’s a habit but no. It didn’t bother me before but it does now. I’m sorry.

33. If your ankle bitter of a dog tries to bite me, I will kick it in defense. I know she loves you but if you know she does not like people or at least strangers, put her fucking up away from guests dipshit.

34. I have a car. Don’t block my car and let me fucking drive once in a while especially if you’re complaining about money. Quit being an ass by complaining about money but then you don’t want me to drive so you’ll use your gas and money but then you’ll turn right back around about money problems and say you won’t treat me. (When I don’t even ask you to pay but whatever).

35. We don’t always have to go out somewhere. If we spend all day out together, I want to rest and take it easy, not go in the bedroom or drive somewhere you want us to have privacy. Selfish ass.

36. If I’m cooking a big breakfast, don’t be an ungrateful fuck by saying you want to go to iHop. If I’m making and giving you a gift just because, don’t be a ungrateful shit and make it seem like it’s a bother.

37. Talking about politics is ok every now and then, but if you LOVE to talk about it more than once day everyday? I can’t. It gets annoying, repetitive and I’ll start zoning you out because you won’t shut the fuck up.

38. Don’t pick me up if I really don’t want to be picked up. I have might legs of fury.

39. I can’t dance so don’t expect me to.

40. I get cold easily. I like to cuddle and I like to fall asleep while cuddling. It’s ok if you hog the blankets because I do that sometimes too.

I’m really tired so I’ll stop here for now. If I have anything else to add I’ll do it later

#relationship #single #need a boyfriend #rules #warnings #bad exes

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meadowhilley · 6 years

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what’s wrong with this picture

Part I: A Walk in the (Upside-Down) Park

I’ve always wanted people to like me. As far back as I can remember, though, I was never convinced they did.

Don’t worry, I’ll spare you the self-tortured speculation bit where I delve into the possible origins of my persistent insecurity. All I want to say now is that, however strong or self-assured or even arrogant I may have appeared to you over the years, what I most wanted, always, was for you to understand me, to accept me, to tell me that the person that I am is alright by you.

Then one day you did. It was three years ago. On October 30, 2014, actually, the eve of what could have been the scariest Halloween of my life. This invigorating shot in the arm came just hours before Chris and I would sit down with a team of medical experts who claimed to have discovered a relatively successful protocol for dealing with the zombie apocalypse. Little did any of us know at the time that you, my friends, had slipped me a powerful antidote the day before, one whose real effects would manifest and multiply over the months and years to come.

On that Halloween eve, in my shock at having been abruptly relegated to the ranks of the undead, I turned to Facebook. As one does. And there you were, my imagined community, ready to inoculate me against the looming horror. A motley group of friends that reflected better than anything else the complex composition of my character—character and friends I would need now more than ever. Looking to you, I realized, was the best way of looking at me. The converse, I understood, was equally true. Mirror, mirror, I began. A weird approach to fighting cancer, admittedly. An indication I’d spent too long in fairytale land as a kid. As wild-eyed Joyce Byers of Stranger Things has repeatedly insisted, “I know what this looks like!” By that, of course, she means BATSHIT CRAZY. Unless you happen to be the one who has found a way to talk with your missing son via Christmas lights. Or who feels you’ve discovered a “cure” for your disease in regularly confiding your deepest fears and greatest foibles in the world’s most public forum.

Self-reflection, I quickly discovered, can look an awful lot like an exercise in vanity, its mirror-image and near enemy.

Just as poison can serve as medicine.

Patriotism can resemble treason.

Standing up can involve taking a knee.

Abuse can masquerade as tough love.

And, if you should find yourself suddenly separated from everything you hold dear by the thin wall concealing an eerie dimension you never suspected could exist, then your frantic effort to break down that space-time barrier with an axe or whatever goddamn tool you happen to have on hand will likely appear to many concerned onlookers as the textbook sign of a nervous breakdown.

(Note my weapons of choice: a pen, a child’s fork, a pair of scissors, needle-nose pliers, lip gloss, and a few fake bullets.)

If any of my soul-searching exploits of the past three years ever struck you as exhibitionist—just the sort of self-absorbed, navel-gazing, attention-seeking, ego-driven kind of behavior that gives social media its bad name (well, that and the whole selling-out-to-the-Russians thing)—you are not alone. On many occasions, I myself came to question the methods I’d adopted and to ask what hidden motivations my sneaky subconscious might be cleverly concealing.

My closest friends and family shared these concerns, but whenever they voiced them I justified my Facebooking and blogging and memoir writing as so many means to achieving a noble and necessary end: healing.

Of course, even as I emphatically defended myself against charges of look-at-me narcissism, I was fully and uncomfortably aware of the fact that how we arrive at our destination is bound to change the very nature and outcome of the journey itself.

Social media can have a terrifically corrosive power. We know this. Evidence that these platforms can fracture and divide our community more than they unite us is everywhere apparent. Many social scientists have taken to the soapbox of late, screaming that our devices have made zombies of us all, preaching that the end of the world is nigh, and offering statistics to back their claims.

Showing up regularly in such a fraught virtual environment was a risky proposition, I knew, being all too aware of our susceptibility as humans to the lure of likes, the intoxicating effects of flattery, and the tendency to get greedy and hoard the sort of social capital such attention bestows. Hip to all this, I was a bit like Will Byers, understanding that, even if my initial intention was to use my insight to spy on the Shadow Monster in the hope of defeating it, I could easily end up a double agent in the employ of pure evil.

But whatever. It didn’t seem to matter how often I flipped the perspective switch during those internal debates about the advisability of “performative self-examination,” as I’d come to think of it. I always found myself coming back here, to this massive virtual theater, and awkwardly uttering “Ahem” to get your attention.

Driving my actions was something far more powerful than what the visible world was willing to reveal. Like Joyce, I felt what I felt. I knew what I knew. This was a salvage operation; at stake was not only the rebuilding of my body but the redemption of my soul. To hell with what it looked like. Just sell me the fucking Christmas lights, Donald. And yes, I mean on credit.

There’s something seriously wrong with me, I began by admitting to us all three years ago. And to the public confession that I was harboring a horrifying thing at my core, you responded with 162 likes, 146 comments, and 24 shares, which combined told me what I’d always secretly hoped to hear: that you liked me anyway, that some of you even loved me, and that you cared whether I lived or died.

It was a glorious and strange occasion, like attending my own funeral. Announcing my diagnosis helped us all dump our inhibitions in a screw it, let’s hug sort of way. Within the space of an instant I received this rare and beautiful gift: learning how you felt about me without having to die first.

Everyone should be so lucky. Seriously.

You and I wanted to have a moment, right then and there, while it was still possible. We felt compelled and instinctively driven to enact a basic human transaction at the brink, for our mutual benefit. What we had to figure out were the terms of our trade.

Conventional wisdom says cancer patients need casseroles. While my kids thank those of you who cooked to show you cared over the six-month period when I found even the taste of water overpowering and insufferable, what I most wanted for myself was something very different, and really hard to ask for: an audience.

Hard because, if asking for pretty much anything is awkward, it can be downright mortifying to walk up to the mic and announce, “May I have your attention, please? I have something very worthwhile and important to say.”

Especially for a 5’2” female who indulges in self-doubt the way that others devour a pint of ice cream (ok, I do that, too). Inviting you to read along as I muddled through some early responses to The Big Questions, I was always excruciatingly aware of the bigness of my ask. Time is precious, after all, and far greater voices than mine constantly compete for your attention. But there was so much I wanted to tell you. So much, in fact, that I was dying to tell you.

However lovely the intentions behind donated comfort food, forcing myself to enjoy it in the context of my cancer felt a lot like roasting marshmallows while my house was burning, to be perfectly honest. Every one of my instincts was fully engaged in the all-consuming survival effort, and there was a clear consensus among those deep and shrill interior voices that, if my existence was to mean anything at all to this world, I needed to express myself 1.) immediately and continuously, 2.) to the exclusion of many other worthy pursuits, 3.) within hearing range of an audience, 4.) without any hope of reward beyond simply being heard.

Here’s something you may have figured out about me by now: I am no good at playing the part of Helpless Cancer Victim. No more than I can pull off the role of Classroom Party Mom. “Don’t count on me for cupcakes,” I recently explained to my daughter’s first-grade teacher. “But hey, if you’re open to some curriculum enhancement, I’ll bake you up a big batch.”

Please understand: this is not me acting all smarty-pants, holier-than-thou, self-righteous, proud-to-a-fault, or ungrateful for your concrete aid when I was at my lowest. This is not me judging all of those compromised folks who legitimately need casseroles, or even those who are getting on just fine but would like to enjoy a steaming bowl of consolation without a side dish of complicated, thank you very much. Nor is this me looking down my nose at the phenomenal cupcake bakers of this world who brighten our kids’ days (I love you ladies for all you do—and yes, it’s almost exclusively ladies who do this very important work). It is simply a matter of me knowing me. Of me understanding that the best of what I have to offer is something far less comforting than casseroles or cupcakes, but just as important.

For the better part of my life, most folks haven’t known what to make of me. Like Carla Bruni, “je suis excessive” by nature. I was always too much for people. Too intense. Too far out there. Too eclectic. Too intimidating. Too earnest. Too touche-à-tout (all-over-the-place). Too outspoken. The proof? I just compared myself to Carla Bruni, France’s perfectly bilingual supermodel, actress, singer songwriter, and former First Lady. Who does that?

I’ll tell you who: the sort of person who has been looked at askance, questioned, criticized, and reined in all her life for expressing this brand of intolerable excess.

Someone should really take you down a peg or two, I’ve heard more than once.

You think you’re so great.

On whose authority do you make such claims?

Goody-goody!

Who do you think you are?

Can’t you just focus on one thing at a time?

Stop pointing your finger at me!

What makes you think you have something worthwhile to share?

How about you just shut up already and give someone else a chance to talk?

None of which felt good. If those voices had it right, I’d be forced to conclude there was something seriously wrong with me. The prospect of approaching life in a fundamentally different way would necessarily mean fighting the wild nature even my name told me I was meant to embody.

But still the voices persisted. Which is likely what led to my most valiant effort at shutting myself up: a 13-year relationship in which I was actively discouraged from expressing myself in almost every way imaginable.

Then the most amazing thing happened: I got cancer!

Again, an admittedly excessive thing to do. Not something I’d exactly gone and signed up for. But I’ll be damned if this illness wasn’t the perfect antidote to my lifelong alienation problem.

Suddenly, nobody begrudged me my excesses. No one wanted to be in my shoes. Nobody envied my lot in life. People pretty much stopped telling me to be more this and less that. My body was not a source of jealousy or desire. My manic antics didn’t grate on people’s nerves, or at least not the way they used to. That old, persistent claim that the deck had been stacked in my favor was abruptly dropped. And just like that, after a lifetime of curbing my natural élan so as not to make people uncomfortable, after decades carrying guilt over what I’d been given and wearing shame because my very being could often seem an unwelcome excess, I was finally free to just be me.

The jig was up. My cancer had outed me, revealed what I’d long been concealing. And the only way to spare folks discomfort was to hide the fact that I was sick… which of course could only make me sicker. Repressing, stifling, conforming to expectations—this cautious approach had clearly been unhealthy. Besides which, following all the rules had failed to keep me safe from mortal danger.

Call me crazy, what others saw as a tragedy I experienced as a liberation.

In the Upside-Down, I felt quite suddenly well-liked. Welcome. Just right. The sensation Alice must have felt when she finally stopped growing either too big or too small. Or the comfort Goldilocks found in tasting Baby Bear’s porridge, sitting in his chair, and sleeping in his bed.

The natural bravado and intensity I’d carried into many of my earlier endeavors and that had often struck observers as problematic were instantaneously recast in a heroic light. Whereas in the past I’d been accused of overreach and gaudy showmanship, now the very same gestures were perceived as acts of “incredible bravery” and “kick-ass determination.”

Thanks… I guess? I stammered, totally baffled, knowing that this “amazing courage” people spoke of was nothing more than me being me, only the context had shifted dramatically. The extreme nature of my circumstances finally seemed a good fit for my own radical character. My fearlessness finally had a proper outlet. This is going to sound weird, I know. Offensive, even. But I immediately knew that cancer was going to be easy compared to feeling unliked. That had been excruciating. This would be a walk in the park.

I’ve got this, I assured everyone.

But what I was really thinking was: Holy crap, I was made for this shit.

Ever hear the story about how Br’er Fox wanted to kill Br’er Rabbit in the worst possible way? “Hang me from the highest tree!” pleaded Br’er Rabbit. “Drown me in the deepest lake!” he implored. But please, PLEASE, p-l-e-a-s-e don’t throw me in that there briar patch!” Which is precisely what Br’er Fox proceeded to do, letting predatory spite blind him to the fact that his prey had royally played him.

Like the tricky rabbit, I was born and bred in this here briar patch, my friends. Born and bred.

(to be continued)

#strangerthings longwayhome cancer withyoujoyce zombieapocalypse

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tbeofficial-blog · 7 years

Photo

LOCATION : LUCKY FOOT THEATER.

TIME : 7 PM.

PROLOGUE EVENT : MEETING THE SUPERVISOR.

Seven o’ clock on the dot, isn’t that what the rabbit had implied. The way he talks about the Supervisor is only one of the things that gives you the impression they’re a real stickler for the rules, whoever they are ... It’s almost surreal to imagine that there’s someone actually watching over all of this -- it has to be a person, right? All this talk of experiments and observation... There’ve been those among you who have already been speculating the kind of person who would run something like this -- whether or not it’s a government sanctioned project, whether any of you actually agreed to be here... Everything is so large scale, the idea of one person running things seems ridiculous ( but that’s what you’re all here to find out, right? ) And even if you aren’t curious, it’s not like it matters. Thinking about what that rabbit would do to you is enough to get you there. Those Sentinels walking around... they don’t exactly look friendly.

The tension in the theater could be cut with a knife, it’s so thick. Some people stand around in groups mumbling among themselves whilst others take seats in the less than inviting theater aisles. The building may be in good conditioning, but the interior has seen better days -- the map’s description wasn’t kidding when it hinted at how sketchy this place is. There are red stains on the chairs; it looks like something closer to what would be seen in a horror movie than in real life. Still, there’s a roof over your heads and no water is leaking through... All the electric work seems to be in order, too. Although the lights are dim, there are bright stage lights illuminating the line of Sentinels standing guard on the stage. They don’t move ; it doesn’t even look like they’re operational until you notice their eyes are following the movement of those of you who get too close.

Despite the number of people spread out between the four floors the large theater has to offer, it’s still incredibly unsettling. All your voices mixed together make the theater seem loud and lively, but even then, there’s something dismal and... off about this place. You think back to what the rabbit said, about needing to get used to being here and can’t help but wonder about it. What’s so special about this place? As you sit there waiting, occasionally checking your tablet for the current time -- it isn’t until right before the clock is about to hit 7:01 that you hear a SUDDEN, EAR-SHATTERING BANG ECHO THROUGHOUT THE THEATER ------------- one that shuts up the entirety of the crowd in one go, leaving a painful ring in everyone’s ears. It takes you a moment to register your hands covering your ears or the sudden blurriness of your vision ( SHOCKED is a kind way to describe how you feel ) -- but when you do and you manage to look up at the stage where the shot echoed from, IT’S THE FIRST TIME YOU SEE HIM, standing in the middle of the Sentinels with a smoking gun in his hand, THE BODY OF A YOUNG CHILD LAYING IN A POOL OF HIS OWN BLOOD at the foot of the stage below him with a BULLET THROUGH HIS RIGHT EYE --

“ Ahem. Lovely. Now that I have your attention, I would like to formally welcome you

TO THE BUTTERFLY EXPERIMENT.”

CURRENT EXPERIMENT DEATH COUNT ---- 01 RECENT DECEASED SUBJECT ---- ( ORION 4/BLUE @celestis ) CAUSE OF DEATH ---- Bullet to the head. MURDERER ---- The Supervisor.

An unpleasant metallic stench fills the air almost as soon as the gun in the Supervisor’s hand is tucked back into a holster on the side of his belt. He doesn’t make eye contact with the crowd for a few seconds, calmly reaching his hands into his pockets to fish out a cigarette and lighter. The kid with the bullet in his head isn’t even done twitching by time he lights the tip, tilting his head back to exhale smoke towards the ceiling. The stage’s curtain is still closed behind him, though there’s a subtle flutter in the fabric hinting he must’ve stepped through when none of you were even paying attention ( or, at least, before the majority of you had noticed. ) You were ALL staring now, of course -- though at what is debatable. There so much spontanaity to his actions, it’s impossible to choose what to focus on first. To most of you, there’s no doubt that this is who you were waiting to meet. The way he carries himself, dignified and unfazed by his own actions, means that he’s at home here. There’s no arguing it ------ THIS IS THE SUPERVISOR, this is his experiment.

He nor the Sentinels make any move towards the child’s body, though the man’s hand waves in its direction -- his words amplified by the microphone clipped to his suit, making every word he speaks audible to every one of you. “Zero, who did I just kill?” ( He didn’t know ; he didn’t even care, by the sounds of it. )

“ Ahahah aahhaaha !!” On cue, the rabbit’s face pops up on the screens on each side of the stage, his form bouncing up and down excitedly.

“NAME -- ORION! AGE -- TWELVE!! What a way to HOP straight into it, Boss! I didn’t think you’d kill a KID! And before you were even introduced properly! Hhuehehehhueuhehehe!!”

The Supervisor seems to fall silent for a moment before taking another drag on his cigarette, shoulders raising in a careless shrug. “Mm. Orion. Noted. Well, now.” He finally turns his attention to the crowd, gazing upon the child in question for only a moment. He’s devoid of any concern or remorse; the way his nose wrinkles expresses only disgust at the blood spreading on the floor. Those of you around him step away, if you haven’t already, no doubt eager to put distance between you and the liquid soaking into the wood. If you look too hard, you can see the splatter of brain matter squished between his cracked skull and the ground he’s laying on...

This time, when this man speaks, he’s addressing all of you.

“If you had any doubt about being in danger here, let this example rectify that. This child, Orion -- he is dead. Why, you ask? So that I may prove a point. He did nothing wrong. Broke no rules. I do not believe he even interacted with any of you -- he was simply here, minding his own business. Was it unfair of me to take his life for no reason? Absolutely. But now you know there is no hesitation for taking all of yours.” A pause -- he reaches to adjust his tie and flick his cigarette to the ground, grinding it down with his heel. “My name is ‘KUMA,’ as far as you all are concerned, and as you may as guessed, I am the Supervisor of the Butterfly Experiment. You all have already read about what the experiment entails -- you are here to kill one another in hopes of weeding out the butterflies. I will not repeat myself; it is a waste of time. Why kill the butterflies? Why you? For what purpose? That is none of your concern. You are on a need-to-know basis. You will do what we tell you or you will die. That is the reality of your situation.”

A busy man. That’s what he’d called himself in his message to all of you, right? He certainly is acting like it... But to think someone could shoot a child in the head without any cause and then stand before you all like it hadn’t even happened... Who is this guy?

“I am sure you all have plenty of questions. From here on, you will be able to find me in Quarantine on a daily basis between noon and five in the afternoon. If you want to ask anything, you may do so then. However, I may not answer your questions. That being said, I will shed some light now. The Butterfly Experiment will be conducted completely blind on your part. You are not allowed to know anything about it other than the roles you must play. However, I will inform you regarding the Quarantine Zone. This town is a virtual reality setting that reacts and changes itself based on the fears, insecurities, memories and secrets of the individuals who inhabit it. Make no mistake -- you are physically here, in this town, and everything here that happens to you is real. If you die here, you will not wake up. Anything here can and WILL harm you, so I suggest you play it safe and heed the warnings Zero and I give you from here on out. What you are allowed to know is that we will be observing and recording not only your reactions and behavior throughout this experiment but the way the city itself changes in order to manipulate you as it learns more about you as people. Whether or not you understand what that entails, I do not really care. You will learn.”

He certainly has all the answers -- that much is obvious. But sharing them? He doesn’t seem to keen on that. You suppose it was too much to hope for an info dump, but what does any of this mean -- why you, why any of you -- WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? He just keeps going on, no care given for the tension, not even LOOKING at that kid anymore -- at ORION. Are they just going to leave him there?

“Noooooooooooow, I know SOMEBUNNIES have been asking about that HARE-itating bracelet! What do ya say, Kuma Kuma ?? You gonna let ‘em in on that yet?”

When the rabbit addresses him, the Supervisor momentarily freezes, then chuckles, slipping his glasses off in order to tuck them into his pocket. He pushes his sleeve up to reveal a bracelet similar all of yours, turning the face towards the audience. ( 0 , PINK. )

“They are kind of uncomfortable, are they not? Do not worry for now. I will reveal the meaning of these bracelets shortly. For the time being, please try not to play with them. It would be a shame if one of you poisoned yourselves before even getting to the true experiment. For now, let us just say they are good accessories for a game we will be playing. I know Zero is impatient for the reveal, but... it will come when I address all of you for the FIRST INCENTIVE. You all did read the experiment debriefing, correct? That means this SUNDAY, when the murders start -- that is when I will REALLY tell you what is going on with these. This was just a meeting, right? You cannot expect me to hold you here forever. Introductions that drag on too long are... so very awkward.”

He looks so smug. He knows you want answers -- he knows he’s the one who has them and he’s dangling them in front of you, mocking you. Did he really call you here just to introduce himself like this? ( No, it wasn’t as simple as saying ‘welcome.’ The shot, the random murder, all of this -- he had no intention of giving you the answers you want right here, right now. He just wanted to illustrate to you that he means business. He just wanted to rub the power he holds over you in your face -- this was never going to be a Q&A explaining anything ; he intended to MURDER one of you and that was the only reason you were called here. ) It’s such a disconnect from the way he sounds, the way he looks -- his voice is soft and gentle, like he’s addressing children he has no desire to scare and there’s something inherently elegant about his mannerisms, but his ATTITUDE --

“As I said before, welcome to the Butterfly Experiment, everyone. You can find me in the Quarantine Zone starting tomorrow -- and make no mistake, if I even THINK you are up to something mischevious, you will be executed immediately, so do remember your manners and keep your hands to yourself. Let us all act like civilized individuals, yes?

WITH ALL MY HEART, I SINCERELY LOOK FORWARD TO WORKING ALONGSIDE ALL OF YOU.”

He laughs -- and the sound is so soft and airy, you’d think he was simply welcoming you to a party. With a single wave of his hand towards the body on the floor, he turns on his heels and throws the curtain aside to disappear behind it, into the darkness concealing whatever’s back there ; giving no time for questions or reactions. Two of the larger Sentinels on standby suddenly begin to move, hopping off the stage to grab the dead victim. One of their claws closes around his head whilst the other one grabs his feet -- without any hesitation, they rip his body in half and throw each part of him to different ends of the theater. His torso FLIES through the air, smacking the wall and exploding into a gorey mess on the right side whilst his waist falls midway through the air and lands in the audience, legs hooking themselves onto the railing of the second floor balcony, leaving that half of his body to dangle and dripp blood towards the floor below it.

“ Hahahhaa.... hehehehehhe..... EHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!”

That’s all your left with -- the horrific sight of the experiment’s first death committed by the very man who has you trapped here, the laughter of your unstable AI Overseer as he watches the Sentinels retreat back to their position with bloodied claws, and the reassurance that this is, without a shadow of a doubt, REALITY.

EVENT COMPLETED: MEETING THE SUPERVISOR.

CURRENT OBJECTIVE: ... wait for your first murder incentive?

. . . YOUR TABLETS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!

Supervisor Kuma ( @desbearer ) will be in The Quarantine Zone each day from 12PM to 5PM. You may approach him and speak with him or ask questions of him as you wish, but remember that any harm done to him is punished with IMMEDIATE death! As in, if we even think you’re gonna hurt him, you’re toast. So don’t even look at him funny. There’s a good number of you. We can meaninglessly kill you left and right without sacrificing the experiment!

#plays violin music #thank u michael for letting me add one of ur muses solely so i could kill them :)))) s/o to death #v: tbflye #event: meeting the supervisor #event #prologue: acquittal won omen ‘ere

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