#i still wanna edit it once more but right now its a few hundred words longer than the other longest chapter

[latetaektalk]

please feel free to write longer chapters. your subscribers are fans of reading and we missed these two so much💞😍

dont worry i couldnt write a short chapter for the life of me anyway haha theres a chance that chapter seven is gonna be the longest yet !!

[riku-writings]

ADMIRATION

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x Fem! Reader

Summary: Reader likes to fantasize about The Home Economics Club Leader's Hands.

Warnings: Smut with a smol plot, Fingering.

A/n: I am not really sorry about this ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡,,, inspired by that one megumi oneshot in wattpad that i read ages ago. . .((edited hundred times since i just realized now that some of the smut parts were messed up even though i checked it multiple times,,, I'm sorry for the confusion i hope i got the order right ಠ,_｣ಠ)

Wc; 2k

It started with just an innocent admiration of him being a charming dude, that's all. The guy's a good student, an overall husband material with his sewing and cooking skills. He was heaven sent with his overall visual ( dyed hair, piercings and his eyebrow slits). Everyone knows he's a delinquent because of that Pehyan dude who would fight with Yasuda-San just to excuse mitsuya out of the club. Despite his delinquent bg, Mitsuya was respectful and patient. Making every girl and boy swoon over him.

A bad boy with a soft hubby side. Best of both worlds they would say.

You were part of it. The Home Economics Club, they were lying if the whole club wasn't a simping club for the one and only Mitsuya Takashi. It was only yasuda and you who took the club for extra credits. The others well, you could say they were there to see him. Eitherway everyone was cooperative and hardworking.

Not only were you with him in that club. You were his classmate. Even better, his seatmate. You always get a view of his charming side profile.

You find yourself just staring at his features, from his long lashes to his pointed nose, down to his lips. Sometimes his tongue would dart out, out of pure concentration. (You noticed this whenever you try and get his attention to check your work in the club)

Your eyes always latching itself down to his hands. Not that you're a complete freak but you appreciate it. Like if someone asked you what body part attract you the most. You would definitely answer, hands.

His hands were the prettiest especially when its enclosed with those rings that has a cross engrave on it. It was veiny, fingers elongated and a bit bony. Nails cleanly cut. His wrist always had a silver bracelet on it. You don't know why was that attractive.

You had an unpopular opinion that it was soft to touch. You wonder if your thoughts were true. You can feel yourself blush at the thought of him just holding your hand.

You can't help it but you just stare at them with pure admiration. Due to this, you noticed how he liked twirling a pen around his middle and index finger. Fascinated, you tried it once, though you failed. You not knowing he was looking at your failed attempts. Grinning.

"y/n are you listening?" A voice called pulling you out of your own embarassing thoughts. You look up at the owner of the hands you've been staring at for a while now.

"U-uhm yes?"

"Tell me how did you end up with this then?" Mitsuya raises his brow, your messed up fabric lifted up by him. The girls around you giggled at your clumsy behaviour. You retrieved it. "Ehm, I'm sorry leader can you explain it again?"

"Alright, listen this time dummy" He says with a teasing grin, ruffling your hair gently. He sat next to you. Using the seam ripper to remove your mistakes. You just stared at his fingers pointing at where you should redo it.

You wondered how he would shove it in your mo—

You mentally slapped yourself. As you crossed your legs together at the sudden image that came over your mind. "You okay? y/n?" Mitsuya stared at you noticing how you pressed your thighs together. "Hmhm" You responded.

"Leader! can you check this?" Another called out for mitsuya. He stood up and pats your shoulder.

"alright, I'll leave it to you then" He smiled.

The next days you tried to scold your mind for having intrusive thoughts of Mitsuya and his hands. Unfortunately, your mind developed a sudden kink with it. Making every imaginary situation more. . . . lewd.

"Hey Y/n! Hold up your hand" Your classmate suddenly called you lifting his hand towards yours. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, since he's been busy tryna do that with the other girls this morning. "Eh? I don't want to." You replied.

"Bet if mitsuya did it, y/n would do it!" Another classmate of yours shouted from the back. You raised your middle finger, continuing on cramming your homework.

"Leader~ Can you do that for us~" The boys teasingly called mitsuya. Who was back from his lunch raising an eyebrow at them. Hands pocketed "Do what?"

"We're just comparing hand sizes" They shrugged lifting up their hands. "Y/n won't let us~~"

"Eh? Stop bothering y/n." Mitsuya say in his deep voice his feet landing a hit on their butts, before proceeding to you. The men in the back groaned.

Bending to meet your gaze. He grinned "Now you owe me, work on your missed templates with me later" The lilac haired boy reminded. You just rolled your eyes on him mocking a tongue out. He chuckled. "And I thought you just saved me, leader."

You stayed with him in the club room. Doing your templates beside him. Him just handstitching a bunny like doll. The room slowly darkening as the sun sets. He turned on a lamp beside his table. Slowly the other girls started to leave the club room, waving their goodbye's to Mitsuya.

"Hmmmm you've been spacing out lately, are you okay?" He coughed softly referring to your messed up works recently. Eyes going to you.

"Me? spacing out?" You acted dumb, you scoffed in a fake manner. Brushing your hair with your fingers to shake off your stiffening state.

Not meeting any of his gaze, you just continued to sketch.

Did he figure it out? Did he catch me staring at his hands? Nah I need to stop overthinking.

"Alright then." Silence invaded the whole club room again. Your eyes roamed around realizing the rest of the girls left already leaving you two alone.

"Hold your hand up." Mitsuya suddenly commanded. Eyes going to him, you raised your brow. "I wanna know— our hand difference." He explained raising his hand infront of you. Placing his doll down the table.

"You know the boys in our class are just a bunch of perverts right?" Speaking like a fucking hypocrite, your actions didn't match up with your words. Almost instinctively, you faced him holding them up. He pressed his against yours.

Your insides melt at this gesture. Your theory confirmed that he has actually, soft hands.

"You have cute small hands" His lips curled up, slowly his fingers intertwined with yours, locking it with his. "Well yours rough" You lied, cheeks burning as you looked at your connected hands. "Is that so?"

Abruptly, mitsuya pulled you close to him. Making your other hand rest on top of his shoulder. His face centimeters away yours. Lips almost brushing.

"So is this what they're trying to do with you?" He asks in a low voice his eyes piercing through you. Craning his neck, curious.

"Yeah. . . " You broke eye contact. "Good thing I stopped them." He chuckled, eyes closing. He leaned back. Patting your head.

Funnily, that interaction with him didn't stop your thoughts. Actually it made your whole dirty secret worse. Just seeing him tapping his fingers on his lips as his chin rested on his palm. Made your mind run thoughts about the things his hands would do to you.

You leaned back looking around the morning peace in the clubroom. You were always the first one to go here. Since it's more quiet that way.

You closed your eyes craning your neck side to side. Loosening up a bit.

What would his fingers feel wrapped around your neck— no. no.

You shifted on your seat, pressing your thighs together. Mentally slapping yourself.

Changing your attention, your sight caught your pen. Picking it up you tried to do that cool trick again. Trying to twirl it around in between your middle and index finger.

"Ohhh you're trying to do it again?" Mitsuya popped out of nowhere. You jolted a bit, making him laugh. You clearly didn't see him coming in.

He hovered behind you, his chest pressed on your back as he rested his hand on your desk right beside yours. He leaned in observing your half-done project. "Again?" You asked head turning towards his face.

"Well I saw you trying to do this"

He pulled his other hand up grabbing your pen, his fingers did it in ease. "no need to brag leader-san" You tell him grabbing your pen back. "Looks like you're gonna stay with me again later" Mitsuya mentioned pointing at your work.

After classes you proceeded to your clubroom already, knowing you're gonna take so long with your project. Though you were greeted by yasuda leaving you with her tasks because apparently she also had friday plans like the others. The others always had friday plans that it would leave you, yasuda and mitsuya with the work.

"It's okay yasuda-san! I promise to clean up and remind leader to lock the door!" You assured her, she then finally nodded. "Fine fine— Also don't let that slimy delinquent distract leader" She added, you nodded giving her a big thumbs up, she then waved her hands leaving you all alone with the mess of excess papers and fabric from this morning.

You tied your hair as you clean up the place before doing your own project. You actually sat on the front desk as you look around feeling satisfied. Finally continuing your hand stitch. (You gave up after breaking 3 needles into half with your machine.)

You stay seated on the front desk, comfortably doing your own project. Humming a few songs here in there. The door then slid open.

"I'm guessing yasuda san has plans?" Mitsuya came in seeing you on his desk. "yup" You nodded eyes focused on your stitch. Sudden fingers gripped your knees.

"You should stop manspreading in that skirt" He scolded you pushing your knees together. You shivered at his touch against your skin. Due to this sudden awareness of his hand still gripping your lower thighs— you accidentally pricked your finger on a needle.

"Ouch." You hissed as you saw your finger starts to ooze out blood. "You're so clumsy" Mitsuya clicked his tongue removing the cloth on your hands bringing it down to the side. He grabbed your hand and started sucking on your finger.

"U-uhm" You widened your eyes as you saw the sight of mitsuya sucking your index finger. You blushed profusely at this. "Eh? I- I — you didn't have to do that" He finally let go of your finger.

"I don't have bandages on me—plus that always does the trick" He says wiping it. You just nodded looking around. "Tsk what is it that got you distracted again hm?" He questions furrowing his brows he leaned closer to you. He layed his hands on the table, locking you in.

"Ugh you really want me to say it huh?" You groaned. He craned his neck to the side. Waiting for you to continue. "Okay— I may have a small admiration towards your hands. . ."

"Admiration?"

"Well it was honestly innocent at first until it got all dirty and as much as I wanted to get it out of my head you suddenly do things to me"

"And what was my hands doing?"

"Mitsuya . . "

"No dove tell me" He said as the choice of endearment shoot straight to your core. Making you shift on your seat.

"hm shoving it in my mou—"

Mitsuya shoved his middle and index finger inside your mouth. Your cheeks burn at the sudden action. His other hand held your waist, holding you closer. "You like this?" He asked with hooded eyes. Your tongue twirled around his finger, he slowly discarded them letting out a popping sound as it came out of your lips. Feeling your chest warmed up down to your lower belly.

"Is this why you're so distracted lately? because you're too busy thinking about my hands?" He then held your chin with his fingers as he hummed. Lips inching closer to yours. You just nodded feeling feverish. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Once again you nodded. You can feel the growing lust underneath your skirt. Pressing your thighs together to relief the heat. Mitsuya following the movement. His eyes went back to pierce through yours.

"Say please" He smugly commanded. You pouted.

He taps your lips. Wetting it with your own spit.

"Please kiss me."

Mitsuya leaned in to claim your lips, you lightly gasped as his lips finally touch yours. Closing your eyes, you melt into his kiss. He smirked at his before his hand on your waist went up to your hair tie, pulling it to let your hair flow against your shoulders.

He then licked your lips, instinctively you opened your mouth allowing him to enter his warm wet muscle inside. You whimpered at this, feeling your feverish state get warmer. Spreading all over your body. He caressed your cheek as he kissed you deeper. His other hand caressing your side, slightly brushing up against your chest. You hummed against his lips.

Biting onto your bottom lip he licked it. Before leaning back, placing a soft kiss on yours before taking in your whole panting visual.

"Do you want me to touch you, dove?" He questions, his thumb now pressing onto your bottom lip. His left hand went down on your thighs, softly pinching them.

"Please touch me, takashi"

With that his fingers indulged inside the band of your damp underwear. "Hm you're so wet, princess" He hummed letting his finger brushed up against your folds. You squirmed under his touch, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Is this what you're thinking about in class?" He whispered next to your ear, placing a hot kiss on your cheek. You nodded, biting onto your red lips. As his middle finger continued to slide so easily with your wet slick. Up and down teasing both of your sensitive clit and your pleading hole.

You then felt the pad of his fingers teasing circles on your entrance, you looked at him with glossed eyes. He licked his lips seeing you practically begging for it.

His other hand held the back of your knees spreading your legs to gain more access. You leaned back supporting your weight with your hands.

Letting your skirt ride up, He bit his lips as he saw your ruined flimsy panties with his hand in it. You just looked at him with a pout wanting his fingers to penetrate your hole. "Please" You plead him trying to grind into his hand. Without caution he plunged his two fingers in your heat.

You bit back a moan. "Don't hold back now, dove." He said with a smug as he felt your hole clench around his fingers. "I-I can't takashi" You say feeling little under him. He chuckled at your pouting lips before placing a kiss on them. "Acting shy now huh"

Mitsuya curled his fingers inside making you squirm. "Don't move." He warned before pounding his hand into your writhing pussy. His long fingers hitting your soft spot almost immediately. You moaned letting your forehead clash itself against his. "You're taking my fingers so well baby. So noisy" He said referring to the slick slapping sounds of your wet pussy. You blushed at this ashamed on how you were making a mess on his hands.

"Aa you're so lewd— bet you've touched yourself multiple times thinking about this" He said adding another finger in your hole easily. You sobbed at the sudden feeling of fullnes inside "Hmm too much"

"Too much? you're a good girl you can take it" He says kissing your cheek once agaib. He thrusted his three fingers into your hole curling it up to feel your spongey walls clenching into him tighter.

"Mmn t-takashi—k-kiss" You mumbled feeling yourself itching up to your own orgasm.

"You want a kiss baby hm?" He hummed as his thrusts got harder and faster. Knuckles deep, the tip of his fingers hitting your sensitive spot. You purred nodding, He kissed your lips deeply making your moans muffled. You felt hot inside you as you panted trying to comprehend everything that he was doing to you. With that you felt your orgasm continue to build up. Your head leaned back breaking off his kiss, grinding back into his hand. Mitsuya felt yourself tighten continuing to hit on your sweet spot. Your own wetness beginning to drip down.

His thumb finally taking notice of your abandoned nub. He played with it. You squirmed as you feel it burn against his thumb.

"'m close" You squeak biting onto your lips. "Go on baby cum on my fingers" He said littering kisses on your neck, hands pounding into you harshly. With those words and his thumb rubbing your sensitive clit. Your thighs started to fidget. You closing your eyes shut as you panted.

You came onto his fingers. You let out a whiny moan as His fingers slowly ride out your high.

"Good girl" He said pulling his fingers out your panties. Your eyes opened seeing him cleaning his fingers clean with his tongue. He smirked as you lolled your tongue out. He placed his fingers on your tongue, letting you lick and suck them clean.

"You look so pretty like that, dove" He say as you finished pulling his fingers out popping out of your lips. He held your waist with his arms, moving you closer again. Leaning in to kiss you softly this time on your forehead. "How was that?"

"Better than what I imagined actually"

"C'mon it looks like we have friday plans too" Mitsuya said kissing your lips. Bringing you down the table. You smiled.

[spilledkauffie]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably. 

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming. 

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.” 

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again. 

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,”  bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you. 

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”  

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. 

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.” 

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.” 

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive. 

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.” 

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest. 

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it. 

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.” 

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.” 

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear. 

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently. 

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you. 

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled. 

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell. 

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer. 

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back. 

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile. 

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss. 

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

“If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.” 

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”

[authornina]

The Tassle Worth the Hassle: Congratulations Sav!👨🏾‍🎓

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

Chi kept standing up screaming Sav’s name when it got quiet and he ducked his head like he didn’t know who the hell her crazy ass was. She was doing it to purposely embarrass him. 

“Sit your ass down!” Ivy whispered. “You making us all look crazy!” 

“I love you Dayvion! I’m so proud of you baby!” Chi said one last thing before taking her seat.

The ceremony was long and many people in the stadium started becoming drowsy. Thank goodness they didn’t bring any of their children because no way could a bunch of two and one-year olds sit through this.

After two hours of honoring specific students, and guest speakers, Sav was up. He was graduating Summa Cum Laude and Lake couldn’t have been prouder. He and some other students were sitting on the stage. They’d been chosen to represent the student body because they held the highest distinctions amongst their peers. Of the three who’d held the highest distinctions, they voted and chose him to give the speech. 

When Sav stood up the whole class erupted. He was popular on campus not only as a ladies man but the weed man as well. They absolutely loved him. He was one of the few African Americans that attended the prestigious university, so it was easy to stand out. 

“Why are they goin’ up for my husband like this?” Chi asked, being drowned out by the amount of cheering happening for Sav. 

“Chill, y’all,” Sav said over the mic. “Dean Lee said she not for my shit—” he slipped up and everyone laughed. “I mean stuff today.”

The Dean who was also black shook her head at his use of language, but she knew how Dayvion Porter, which she addressed him as could be. They’d had several run ins over the course of his college career. The young man with tattoos galore, foul mouth and pants off his ass was indeed by measure the smartest one in the sea of thousands of students. She wanted this young black scholar to have his moment even in its rawness. This was black excellence being shown at a PWI and she was proud nonetheless. 

“Ummm…everybody know I ain’t wanna do this.” Sav did not try to sound intelligent or put on for nobody. They wanted him to give this speech he was going to do it as him. Educated and all, he was true to himself. “I told Dean Lee I would be honest and y’all still chose me so here we go…” 

“Fucking right bro!” A white guy shouted from the crowd. 

“I know a lot of us struggled to make it to this stage. Not only the amount of work we had to put in to make it here but the pressure, financial restraints, family issues, our mental incapacities at times…a lot more goes into just getting a degree. Picking something you can actually apply and let’s be honest, make money from in this nut ass world. Shout out to y’all who got art degrees, it’s about to be hell,” Sav said honestly and the audience died of laughter. “I know some of y’all personally who went through some of this. To be honest, ion know what it look like. I couldn’t relate because I didn’t have those problems. Y’all probably thought I’m the made it out the hood specialty case. I had a big brother who not only kept pushing me to finish but made sure I didn’t have not one worry while doing it, so this was a breeze for me actually. I don’t need no college degree, but I did this for one person and one person only. My brother Lake. I wanna honor him with this because a lot of the great people, the ones behind the scenes who never get recognized are the real ones that make it happen. I was able to run a whole business, get married, have kids, live my life stress free. He gave me what I know a lot of people who look like me never get. A peace of mind. A care-free life, the tools I needed to be successful and I thank him for that every day.” Sav was looking right at Lake. “My brother the reason why I get to stand here right now…so this to the single moms out here doing it all on their own that got their kids to this day, to the dads working day and night to pay for tuitions, the grandparents, siblings, aunties and uncles who put their all into a kid to see them do better. If it wasn’t for y’all, I’m sure we wouldn’t be up in here falling asleep and waiting to hear our name called for a degree we couldn’t have gotten without y’all.” 

Although the ceremony wasn’t done after Sav’s speech all the students felt every word he said and so did the families there to support them. 

“Wait…” Dean Lee got up ready to stop them but it was too late all the graduates were up on their feet, throwing their caps in the air. It was like a big party started. It took twenty minutes to get everything settled then the degrees were finally handed out. 

“Dayvion Porter,” they called Sav’s name to receive his degree and it went crazy again. 

“That’s it!” the president of the school got up waving his hands then shouted in the mic. “Everyone please sit down!”                                                       ******* Lake waited patiently, watching Sav bump fists with a bunch of people because he wasn’t about to touch all them hands. He stood in his robe, medals and cords around his neck looking like a true scholar. He admired the hell out of his little brother. Not even for finishing but remaining authentic and true to himself during the process. Sav had his moments but everything he set out to accomplish, had been done. Lake couldn’t and wouldn’t ask anymore of him.

“You proud of me?” Sav asked, coming towards him with his arms out for hug.

“So proud man,” Lake smiled, embracing his baby brother. “I’m so fuckin’ proud.” 

“Thank you, where the fuck everybody go?” 

“Home, they didn’t want to stay around for the crowd and all the traffic.”

“Now you know that’s fucked up. Even my own wife? All this and them niggas dip on me? Take me home to my kids. Nobody better not say shit to me.”

“Chill, I wanted you to take a ride with me.”  

“Ion even feel like it.” Sav’s feelings were hurt. His whole family was worried about beating traffic than his big day. It upset him more because he didn’t even care about it as much as they did.

They had to get all of his gifts professors, the school, students and others got for him. Sav indeed was their favorite. Someone even gave him basketball season tickets. Once they were in the car Lake did his best not to laugh. Sav was really upset. 

“Why the fuck we here?” 

Lake pulled into to the strip club they used to frequent and Sav knew something was up now. His brother wasn’t allowed to be a hundred feet of no strippers per his wife’s rules. Only if she was DJing did Avery let him enter the building.

“Because I thought it would cheer you up.” 

“I told you I don’t feel like shit no more. Them niggas fucked my mood up. Especially, Chi, she really dipped on me. Her fuckin’ muscle head ass better hope ion divorce her.”

“Sav, relax, nigga,” Lake laughed lighting a blunt then passing it to him. “Hassan would be proud of you man.”

“Yea…” Sav put his head back blowing out smoke. “I be thinkin’ bout Daddy a lot.” 

“Me too, all the time actually…I wish he would’ve made it, seen you today. It’s moments like this that make life worth living.” Lake stared out the window. After a few seconds of silence, he reached in the back seat and handed Sav an envelope. 

“What’s this?” 

“I ain’t know what to get a nigga that got it all for a graduation gift.” 

“Aw man…” Sav looked at all the papers and got emotional. 

Lake knew it bothered him that he didn’t know where he came from for sure. He couldn’t do a traditional testing since their father was deceased and had been cremated. But there was sibling DNA test and because Sav, Lake, Vant and Wreck didn’t share the same mother, it was easy to get proof. If he wasn’t Hassan’s he’d have not an ounce of relation to them.  

“Sav even if that shit ain’t say what we already knew it wouldn’t have made you any less my brother. I hope you know that.” 

“Thanks man,” Sav dapped Lake up and he pulled him in for a hug.

“Why the fuck y’all sittin’ in here cuddling and shit?” Wreck was about to get in the back, but Lake had car seats. “Nigga, Avery whip don’t have nothing in it. I swear you and Vant the wives.” 

“Fuck you nigga,” Lake pushed him getting out the car. “Stop takin’ your anger out on everybody. I told you come talk to me, you wanna hide out and shit. Think Daly ain’t tell me the bullshit you been on.” 

“I ain’t got nothing to say, and Daly a nut for bringin’ shit to you like I’m not a grown ass man! It’s fuck everything and that’s on my Daddy.” Wreck walked over and dapped Sav up. “I’m proud of you nigga.” 

“Are you really bro?” 

“Yea! Ion mean to be so hard on you. I apologize. Just…you know I’m dealin’ with my own shit right now, but I love you man.”

“I know, it’s cool, I love you too.” Sav felt bad for his brother. Wreck didn’t know which way he was going. It had spread about Gia breaking up with him. A simple, I don’t want to be with you anymore, was all the reason she gave him. That’s all he got from her. Wreck opened himself up to a woman for the last time. 

“Let’s go in here, I can’t be out for long or A will come lookin’ for me.” 

“Cause you a whipped ass—” 

“Y’all keep saying that,” Lake laughed, cutting Wreck off. “But I’m happy as fuck. I have no resistance in letting love take over me anymore.” 

“And you know what? I am genuinely jealous and that ain’t even me bro.” 

“Wreck,” Lake stopped walking. “I’m for real, come talk to me. Tomorrow, nigga.” 

“Everything already fucked up, bro. Gia will never be with me again.” 

“How?” Sav asked.

“Ion wanna talk about it.” 

“What the hell is taking so long?!” Chi pushed the door open. 

“Fuck is you doing here?” Sav looked at Lake confused. “I did not ask to come here, Chi. Lake brought me. I was on the way home.” He started defending himself immediately. 

“Get in here, Dayvion.” Chi pulled him along and it was dark as hell on the inside.

“SURPRISE!” the lights, loud ass music and cheering all happened at the same time. The whole club was decorated in his school colors with a big ass banner congratulating him. Everybody was holding cutouts of Sav’s head from his graduation photo. 

“You did this for me?” Sav wanted to cry.

“Mhm…” 

“I love you,” Sav kissed her all the way down on the couch. 

“Stop Sav!” Chi laughed. “My dress is comin’ up! You doin’ all this in front of people!” 

“Can I give my brother a hug now?” Dem asked and they let each other go. “I’m proud of you bul.” 

“Thank you.” Sav hugged Dem longer than he did his own wife. Chi was over trying to get in between something that Sav needed to literally survive, to breathe and have good days. They were working through a lot of things and as long as he prioritized her and their children then he could love on Dem all he wanted. 

“I’m so proud of you, boo boo,” Ivy said kissing her baby all over. 

“Ard come on with all that shit,” Vant tore them apart. “We got a surprise for you later,” he whispered making Sav laugh.

“Shout out to my young nigga Sav! Congratulations bro!” DJ AP shouted in the mic sounding like a nigga making everybody crack the fuck up. She was barely six weeks post-partum and came out to party for her favorite person much to Lake’s dismay. “This one for you baby!” Avery pointed at him then played Nicki Minaj Moment for Life. Sav wouldn’t openly admit he was a fan. 

“No, I'm not lucky, I'm blessed, yes, clap for the heavyweight champ, me! But I couldn't do it all alone, we!” Sav jumped on all his brothers. The moment was so nice. “Lake Porter raised me,” he remixed the lyrics. 

Lake looked at Wreck who was visibly sad and hugged his brother and in front of everyone Wreck received it because he really needed it. 

“It’s gon’ be okay, ard?” 

“Yea…” Wreck didn’t want to ruin his little brother’s day so he decided to just put his own issues aside for the time being. Vant handed him a drink patting his back. 

“It’s ard bro.” 

“Put ya drinks up,” Dem held his glass in the air with is arm wrapped around Sav. “It's a celebration, every time we link up, we done did everything, they can think of, greatness, is what we on the brink of!”

“I WISH THAT I COULD HAVE THIS MOMENT FOR LIFE!” everyone sang 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Kismet {11}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy

Words: 7k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: The musical notes emoji 🎶 signifies a song being sung. They are the lyrics.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 

🎶 “But I don't wanna give up. Baby, I just want you to get up. Lately, I've been a little fed up. Wish you would just focus on—me. Can you focus on me? Baby, can you focus on me?”

 The sounds of H.E.R filled the semi-rustic kitchen as you moved around it, checking on the multiple things you were making. Her album was one of your go-to things for mellowing out. You sang along and got lost vocalizing along with her. It didn’t take long for you to forget what time it was and that you weren’t exactly alone in the house. As the song ended and the next came on, you held your hands in the air, already feeling the opening of Girls Need Love Too.

  🎶 “Honestly, I'm tryna stay focused. You must think I've got to be joking when I say. I don't think I can wait. I just need it now. Better swing my way.”

 The lyrics were hitting you as right as gospel right about now. Pulling open the oven, you checked on the treats inside, making sure they were rising just the way they needed to. After you were pleased with their progress, you checked your pots on the stove one more time, then went back to the pitcher you were mixing your famous mimosas. That was when DSVN came on, and the hypnotizing sound of the lyrics with the beat made your mind drift back to Henry, especially when the hook came on. It sounded like it was made just for you in this situation.

 For the next few minutes, you focused on trying not to burn breakfast rather than dancing or singing. That was until Santana came on, and you couldn’t help but bust out your best salsa moves to Carlos’ electric guitar and Latin flare. The song was so catchy that you quickly got carried away winding your hips and doing your best Shakira impersonation. If she were standing in front of you, you thought she’d be proud because you gave it everything you had. Before you knew it, the song was almost over, and you’d forgotten about being quiet, and were now singing along to the song as you danced around the kitchen.

 “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.”

Your scream was loud, so loud it bounced off the walls of the room. Your head nearly snapped off your neck from the force of which you spun around.

 “Oh my god!”

 Henry stood there pinching his lips, trying to stop himself from laughing at you.

 “You scared me half to death.”

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I um—I smelled food and heard music, and here you are,” Henry explained.

 “Oh no, no. How long were you standing there?”

 Another smile spread across his face, and it was all you needed to know he’d probably seen the whole thing. Embarrassment filled you.

 “Oh god, no.”

 “Don’t be embarrassed. You can dance and sing. I enjoyed the show.”

 You snorted while shaking your head, trying to overcome your embarrassment. When you met his eyes again, you still saw the amusement there.

 “Good morning,” you began.

 “Good morning. What’s—what’s going on?”

 He motioned to the organized chaos around you.

 “Oh, breakfast.”

 “Did you order?”

 “Nope. One hundred percent handmade but these hands,” you replied, holding up your hands and flexing your fingers for emphasis.

 Henry’s eyebrows shot up as he approached the kitchen island.

 “You cook.”

 Approaching the same island on the opposite side, you nodded. “I cook and bake and mix and clean, iron, and do laundry.”

 Henry snorted and nodded, clearly amused by the sarcasm in your voice.

 “Cute.”

 You smiled and leaned against it, resting your elbows on the wooden island keeping your eyes on him.

 “I know I don’t look it, but they do say never judge a book by its cover,” you replied.

 Henry nodded before he spoke. “For the record, I’ve never judged you.”

 You studied him for several moments before your eyes drifted over him, taking in his tan linen pants and cream shirt. He looked good, and you almost got lost in that before you snapped out of it. Clearing your throat, you pushed off the island and looked around.

 “I’m almost done.”

 “What’s for breakfast, chef Taylor?”

 You smiled, “I’m glad you asked Mr. Cavill. We have lavender vanilla  bean beignets, scrambled eggs, sausages, and of course mimosas.”

 Henry’s eyebrows again shot up. “Wow. How long have you been up?”

 Turning from him, you dropped a few mint leaves into the pitcher you’d just mixed. “Well, I actually haven’t slept yet.”

 “So you’ve been up all night?”

 “Yep.”

 Sliding to the right, you turned off the oven and took out the beignets to place them on the stove to cool.

 “Why? Is everything all right?”

 “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m a night—insomniac.”

 He was going to find out one way or another throughout this vacation anyway, you reasoned with yourself.

 “Really?”

 He sounded hesitant but also surprised.

 “Yeah, most of the time.”

 You used the time he stood there in a state of shock to finish up what you were doing before turning back to him.

 “Are you going to pass out later or soon?”

 “Nope. Come on. All done. Can you grab those two?”

 You nodded your head to the two platters on the stove as you took the others walking out of the kitchen to the outdoor dining table he’d shown you yesterday. Once he saw the table that had two other platters and set place settings, he exclaimed.

“Wow.”

 “I know, but I like to cook.”

 “Everything smells incredible,” Henry complimented as he stood at one of the Rattan chairs waiting for you to sit first.

 Once you sat down, you motioned for him to begin. “Dig in.”

 A few minutes passed with the two of you loading your plates with various items. Once you were finished, you took up the pitcher and poured drinks for you both. When he brought one of your beignets to his mouth, you paused and watched him sink his teeth into it. As soon as he did, he moaned so loud it filled the space and drifted off.

 “Holy--,” he began but never finished because he took several more bites finishing his first one. Once he’d swallowed and reached for another, he continued. “How did you learn to make beignets?”

 “Well, it began with my Gramaw, but eventually, it was experimenting.”

 He bit into another and rolled his eyes into the back of his head, and groaned. “These are heaven.”

 “I’m glad you like them.”

 Covering his food-filled mouth, he spoke, “Love them, get it correct.”

 You snorted and nodded as you began to eat. The view before you caught your eye once again, and getting lost was easy. The morning was beautiful, warm, and calm, with a gentle breeze that carried the salt in the air from the nearby sea. You didn’t know who wouldn’t love waking up to this every day. It was then you realized how badly you’d needed a vacation after all.

 “You stare out a lot.”

 Henry’s voice brought your eyes back to him to find his already on you.

 “I’m sorry,” you began with a soft smile. “Another thing about me, I do that—a lot.”

 “What’re you thinking about?”

 You looked out again and nudged your head to the view. “How incredible this view is and that I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve taken a vacation,” you confessed.

 “Tell me about it. I was literally running on fumes. I have no idea how I made it this far,” Henry said.

 You continued to eat and fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

 “Was there anything particular you wanted to do today?”

 “Like what?”

 “There’s so much to do. I know a good spa. There’s diving, boat tours of this incredible lagoon, wine tasting, touring, driving along cote d'Azur. You name it, and it can be done,” he listed off.

 “A lot of choices.”

 You brought your legs up and hugged them to your body as you continued to eat while thinking about your options.

 “What do you feel like doing?”

 “I don’t mind either way,” Henry quickly responded.

 That didn’t help you one bit, but you made the decision all the same. “Nothing screams vacation like a bikini, and a beach, so let’s live it up.”

 He smiled as he nodded. “All right. We have a plan then,” he said, clapping his hands.

 The rest of breakfast was comfortable and peaceful. Neither of you seemed to mind that conversation fell to the wayside because you were both lost in the food and scenery before you. After breakfast, you and Henry managed to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen together as you endured his teasing on the multitude of things you’d used to cook. As you cleaned, you caught his eyes on your body a few times, but he kept his physical distance for the most part. After you separated to get yourselves ready for your day in the sun.

 You spent longer than necessary trying to decide on the right bikini. You didn’t know if you should go demure princess or buxom goddess. You were moving and making decisions by reading him. You told yourself the night before that you’d go at his pace and take your cues from him. If he initiated touching, you’d reciprocate. If he kissed you, you’d kiss him back. If he stayed away, you would too. You didn’t want to do the wrong thing or anything, especially since you didn’t know where you stood with him. Letting your self-doubt win, you chose the middle ground on the bikini.

 Thirty minutes later, you stepped outside the villa to find Henry waiting patiently at a white Fiat convertible.  

 “Wow. Is this yours?”

 “Yep.”

 “I don’t know why I’m surprised. We have established that you’re a car man.”

 He smiled as his eyes trailed over you. “Wow. The short shorts come out, huh.”

 You looked over yourself, then back to him. “This is short? Ha, just you wait. I have even shorter.”

 “I bet you do,” Henry chided as he held open the passenger door for you.

 “It’s about a ten-minute drive to the beach, maybe eight if the cliffside isn’t flooded.”

 “Wow, you’re right there, huh.”

 He smiled and nodded as you slipped into the car.

 “All right, let’s go. I have a goal to be kissed plentifully by this French sun, so in two weeks' time, I’m showing every bit of the melanin my ancestors blessed me with,” you joked.

 Henry shut your door and walked around to the driver’s side. Once in, he pressed the start button.

 “Bring it on. I happened to really like yours…it’s sexy,” he slipped in, meeting your eyes for a few moments.

 “Did you just call me sexy, Mr. Cavill?”

 His smile was wide before he slipped on his sunglasses. “Did I? Maybe, maybe not,” he said before he pulled off, beginning the journey.

 As he drove, you relished the breeze and sun on your skin and waved your hands in the air, fully enjoying the carefree vibes you felt. Before long, you’d pulled out your phone and began snapping a multitude of pictures of the scenery, the people, and occasionally even Henry, though he probably had no idea. You didn’t want to miss the chance to see how perfect he looked behind the wheel.

When you got close to the beach, Henry parked along the cliff as plenty other cars had done. According to him, no one made a fuss about small things like that; as long as people could still pass it was all right. The laidback style was already agreeing with you. With him carrying all the bags like the gentleman he was, you allowed him to lead you across the road toward the sands of the beach and then down the shore to find the perfect spot. It took a few minutes, but when you found it, you staked your claim, stomping in the sand, marking it as yours. Henry took the initiative, spreading the oversized beach blanket using the items you’d brought with you as anchors for the corners.

 Once he’d gotten it perfect, you wasted no time pulling off your tank then peeling off the shorts your wore. You tried to keep your eyes away from him, though you really wanted to know if you had his undivided attention. The middle ground bikini you’d chosen was still a look. The cut complimented your curves, while the color complimented your complexion. You wanted to take it at his pace, but you also had to show him you were still hot.

 When you lied back on the blanket, you gawked at the ocean before you and marveled at its sparkle while the sun reflected off of it. Looking beside you to him, you found his eyes on you and his jaw slightly ajar.

 “This is so beautiful.”

 Henry snapped his head away from you and looked at the view you were just staring at. “Very,” he replied, his voice constrained as if his throat were closing. He held your bag out to you, but he didn’t look at you again.

 “Thank you.”

 You dug through it looking for your sunscreen spray. Once you’d found it, you began spraying along your arms and shoulders, rubbing the mist in working your way to your chest.

 “Why France?”

 “Huh? Excuse me?”

 “France. Why France for buying a house?”

 “Well, I have some French blood-ties; the Channel Islands has its history of it, and France is smack in the middle of there and London. I fell in love with it,” he explained.

 “Why Bandol?”

 “Oh, that’s easy. It’s still luxurious enough like St. Tropez but not as high profile. I can be Henry here and not worry someone is taking my picture.”

 You nodded and understood perfectly. It was hard being on all the time. You’d gotten so used to it that you often forgot how to be off.

 “I get it. It’s the same reason why I’ll always choose Australia and Ireland overall,” you explained.

 “I’ve only seen Ireland a few times. I think I need to go back,” Henry added.

 You smiled as fond memories washed over you of your time in Ireland. “You definitely should.”

 You sprayed your shoulder closest to him and began rubbing in the liquid.

 “Ehm, need some help?”

 Your eyes met, and you fought back your smirk. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

 “Yeah, I can help. It’s no problem,” Henry assured.

 You handed him the bottle, then turned your back to him and waited. He didn’t touch you for several moments.

 “How many tattoos do you have?”

 “Um—not sure, seven, eight maybe,” you said while anxiously waiting for him to begin.

 “That’s quite a bit.”

 “Not too much. They’re all strategically placed,” you explained.

 When you felt the sprays on your back, you held your breath and waited for him to touch you. As Soon As he did, you bit your bottom lip, trying to ignore the feeling of completeness that washed over you. You liked the feel of his hands on your skin.

 “Have you—ehm, have you ever thought about tattoos?”

 “I have,” Henry began, his voice deeper than it had been moments before. his hands trailed lower to the small of your back, and you hunched over even more, giving him more access. “I’ve just never gotten around to it,” he finished.

 Turning your head to rest your cheek on the tops of your knees, you smiled. “Too much work?”

 A soft chuckle escaped him, and you felt his thump trail up your spine until he reached the back of your neck. Two sprays hit your skin, and he began rubbing into your shoulders. A weak moan slipped out, but he didn’t pull away. The kneading of his hands became more forceful then. You were quickly losing your nerve and grip on reality. Another moan slipped from your throat, and that was when Henry’s hands stilled and rested at your shoulder blades. You felt his fingertips trace the softest pattern onto your skin before they were gone.

 “All done.”

 By then, your heart was racing, and the butterflies in your gut were fluttering below your waist. Clearing your throat, you turned back to the ocean.

 “Thanks.”

 “No problem,” Henry said before he stood and discarded his shirt.

 The action didn’t help you at all. Your jaw hit the floor as you took in every inch of him you’d spent all night since seeing the sprigs of hair peeking out his shirt. Plenty of dark hair decorated his chest and trailed down his abs until it disappeared behind his pants. A soft gasp drifted out of you, but your eyes refused to stop ogling. So you sat there looking at him and counting each of his eight ab muscles. The man had an eight pack; you thought to yourself as your throat painfully tightened.

“What’s wrong?”

 Jerking your head up to his face, you shook your head, trying to find words.

 “Wrong? Huh, nothing—um—you uh—you’re—you’re--.”

 Henry smiled as he cocked his brow, waiting for you to say something intelligible. You had nothing, though.

 “Cat got your tongue?” The humor in his voice was so obvious, and you felt like an idiot.

 “And my brain cells, it would seem.”

 His smile made you smile while trying to avert your eyes from the rock hard statue that he was.

 “Sorry.”

 Henry scoffed. “It’s okay,” he said.

 “No, it’s not. You’re a person, not a piece of meat,” you clarified, feeling awful. You were doing the same thing to him that you hated men doing to you.

 “Wait, you think I’m a piece of meat?”

 Looking back at him, you spoke, “No, but I’m sure women look at you like you’re a piece of meat and in turn treat you like it.”

 He nodded, “They have in the past.”

 Your eyes again drifted downward, but you caught yourself before they got to his massive pecs. Clearing your throat, you stood.

 “Do you burn easily?”

 “I’m a white British man, of course, I do,” Henry joked, making you snort loudly.

 “Wow, do you want some?”

 He held his hands up as if to shield himself from you. “Are you looking for an excuse to feel me up?”

 “What!?”

 Henry snorted and laughed loudly.

 “You’re kidding,” you surmised.

 “Yes. You should have seen your face.”

 You shook your head while burying your face in your hands. “Wow. That’s not cool.”

 “You were an easy target,” Henry said, turning his back to you. “Oil me up, baby.”

 You had every intention to, but the side of him from the back stopped you in your tracks for a few moments. As you slowly approached him, you accessed the entire meal that was him before you, unsure where to start. You sprayed over his back then slowly began rubbing across his skin. You couldn’t believe that even his back was as toned as an Olympian. Your brain was slowly short-circuiting with every inch of skin you touched. When you brought your hands down his spine to his tailbone, Henry groaned, and you fought the urge to go lower.

 “All—done,” you said slightly above a whisper.

 “Not quite,” Henry said, turning to face you. “My chest burns easily too.”

 Face to face with temptation; you knew you were destined to give in. it was only a matter of time.

 “I thought you could--.”

 “—Nope. You started the job, so you should finish it.”

 Smiling, you bit your bottom lip. “Does that go for my chest too?”

 Henry’s eyes dropped to your breasts and rested there for a few seconds before he looked back into your eyes with a completely cheeky expression on his face. “Well—that is entirely up to you, Ms. Taylor.”

 Like a child, you giggled most uncharacteristically. Slapping your hand across your mouth, Henry laughed at you. “Oh god.”

 You sprayed across his chest and abs but hesitated touching him. Instead, you stood there gawking at the way his chest glistened. It’s not that you didn’t want to feel. You really, really wanted to feel. You just didn’t think you would be able to not come across as a thirsty fiend. Henry waited patiently waited no doubt taking notice of how you were beginning to hyperventilate. After a minute, he took a step back.

 “Here, I’ll finish the job—this time.”

 You dropped to the blanket and laid back, trying to recover. You couldn’t believe this was life right now. You’d never been attracted to anyone like this. You never struggled like this with anyone, and that reality was a little alarming. Peeking up, you watched as Henry finished rubbing the sunscreen into his chest, spreading it along his swollen shoulders and bulging arms. Your mouth ran dry while another part of you was anything but.

 While proving to be a heightened temptation, a day at the beach was just what the vacation doctors ordered. The roaring sun, the breeze with the salt in the air, and the screams and laughs of people enjoying themselves were wonderful. You didn’t think about work not once, or anything beyond the man beside you reading a book and the book you were reading while the soft sounds of jazz drifted between you. It was perfect.

 Every so often, your eyes drifted to Henry and took in different parts of him. Everything you saw you liked, and the fact that you liked it, only helped your brain daydream even more. There were a few times he caught you staring at him just as you caught him staring at you or parts of your body. When you did catch him, it only emboldened you to play up different parts of your body. You were relieved to know he at least still found you attractive.

 When he goaded you into the water, the two of you played in the waves. The first time Henry splashed you and got water in your hair, you made gasped and pretended to make a big deal about it, which prompted him to apologize profusely. You considered it payback until you tackled him in the water, holding him underneath until he lifted you in his arms like he was Goliath. Your eyes locked, and there was a moment you thought he would kiss you, but instead, he tossed you into the water. That one action began a water war that he easily won thanks to his colossal size and overpowering strength. You didn’t mind.

 By the time you’d sat to enjoy the picnic lunch Henry had packed, only a handful of people had recognized the two of you and asked for autographs and pictures. It really was the perfect first day of vacation, and you already didn’t want it to end. After lunch, you and Henry were walking along the shore, enjoying the lull of water crashing onto your ankles like you had no cares in the world.

  ~~~~~~~~

 -Henry-

 You were gorgeous, more gorgeous than you’d ever been. You were drop dead with make-up on, but without you were a knockout. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and he knew you had to know. There was no way that you didn’t. He didn’t start the day with any expectations because he really didn’t know what to expect, but it had turned out to be a great day. He looked across to you and took in your curled and coiled hair that framed your face and gave you an even more youthful glow.

 “So your hair is naturally curly?”

 You smiled and nodded as you turned to look at him.

 “Curly, coiled, kinky, it’s a bunch of stuff.”

 “So you straighten it.”

 “Yeah,” you confirmed.

 He was confused.  “Why?”

 With your brows knitted together, you took him in. “What do you mean why?”

 “Why? I can imagine it takes a lot of time. So, why do you do it?”

 You scoffed but didn’t speak right away. He allowed you the time to think.

 “Well—in the business, it’s easier. As horrible as it is, there are not many people who will cast the black actress with unruly hair or will have the right people who can do it properly. It’s a huge thing for black actresses, and unfortunately, can be the reason why many don’t get a role. So for me—I guess I got used to directors or photographers preferring the sleek look, so I just—maintain it. No one really cares for this,” you said, motioning to your hair.

 He understood what you were saying. Hollywood was fickle; he was living through it right now but couldn’t believe people's ignorance.

 “I like your hair right now. I like how free and beautiful it is. You don’t look—bound. You look free.”

 Your eyes met his, but he couldn’t read the look in them.

 “Oh uh—thank—you.”

 “You’re welcome,” he replied with a smile. “You should just leave it alone from now on.”

 You snorted. “Oh, is this how you want to see me?”

 He could hear the tease in your tone, “Free and beautiful? Absolutely.”

 Again the look in your eyes stumped him. Before he could ask you what you were thinking, you looked away and back out to the water.

 “What if I want to see you like this from now on?”

 He chuckled, “What, shirtless with bad hair?”

 You laughed with him for a few seconds. “Well, nothing wrong with this view at all,” you said, making him blush.

 “Oh, and for the record, your hair is anything but bad. When it’s all slicked to perfection, you look put together, but—I like the more…distressed you. You look free and boundless.”

 The smile on his lips hadn’t slipped since you’d begun your walk, and staring at you, he didn’t think it would slip. You looked away and cleared your throat, something you’d been doing a lot the entire day.

 “I’ll make a deal with you. You keep this look going, and I’ll keep this look going,” you proposed piquing his interest.

 “Do we have a deal?”

 “All right, we have a deal,” he sealed, holding out his hand for you to shake. When you did, you smiled mischievously.

 “Good,” you said before you pushed him into the water and the incoming wave.

 Shock flooded him though he should have known from the glint in your eye he’d picked up.

 “Did you really?”

 With pride and joy, you nodded, “I sure did.”

 As he stood, he wiped his face of the water and chuckled to himself.

 “As a gentleman, I will give you a four-second head start,” he announced.

 “Four seconds?”

 “Three now.”

 You squealed and ran down the beach, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. It was futile. He was fast. Once he’d counted down, he took off after you. When you looked back to see him coming, you screamed louder and tried to pick up the speed, but as he said, he was fast. In a few short seconds, he caught you and immediately began tickling you, making you scream even louder.

 “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you shouted through bouts of laughter and screams.

 “No, no, too late for that.”

 With you in his arms, he brought you to the water facing you out so you could see the massive wave coming in. You screamed again while kicking your legs, trying to get him to drop you, but it was no use. Seeing there was no way out, you stopped screaming, but when he tossed you into the wave, you screamed until the water engulfed you. He stepped back and waited for you to wash up on the shore. When you did, he proceeded to tickle you some more until you tripped him and rolled onto him to retaliate.

 Though he hadn’t let on that he was ticklish, you figured it out and exploited it mercilessly. The tickling led to both of you playfully throwing wet sand at each other while waves knocked you down. When he grabbed you, he smeared the wet sand across your chest below your collar, making you scream. That was when you coated his chest down to his waist. He pulled you to him rubbing his chest over yours to make sure you were as lathered as he was.

 “Oh my god!”

 A wave crashed over the two of you, nearly drowning you—nearly. When the water receded, you were still there in his arms, practically underneath him. he took in your beauty, and all he wanted to do was kiss you. he almost did before he stopped remembering what had led you to this point. He was tired of proving and showing you he wanted you—wanted to be with you. It was your turn to prove to him that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. That was when another wave washed over you, dampening the mood. He was thankful for it.

 Once he was standing, he pulled you upright.

 “Ready to go?”

 You nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

   ~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

 After leaving the beach, the two of you walked along the shops that decorated the surrounding area. He pointed out all the places he’d visited over the last few days. He knew some of the shop owners by their names, and it was something you liked for some reason. After the first few shops, you decided to pick up something for dinner and spent the next few minutes trying to decide just what to get.

 “Any special requests?”

 Henry’s surprise only lasted a few minutes before the smile you were getting so used to appeared.

 “You’re cooking?”

 “Yep.”

 His surprise turned to awe as he circled you once. “You can pick whatever you want,” he whispered in your ear before he walked to a stack of cans.

 “Are you sure?”

 He nodded, assuring you that you were good to make the decision.

 “Do you eat a lot?”

 “Do you?”

 “Hell yeah, I do,” you said in an exaggerated tone that had Henry laughing.

 As you walked around the store, you placed various items in the basket that Henry carried. Some peppers, scallions, garlic, onions, mushrooms, and plenty of herbs followed before you walked across the way to a seafood shop. You thought about something simple like salmon but changed your mind when you saw lobsters and said what the hell. You were only going to get two, but Henry piped up and tricked you into four, citing your insatiable appetite. Deep down, you wondered what appetite exactly he was referring to, for food or him. A trip to the local spirits shop had you stocked for more than just one night.

 When you made it back to the villa, Henry was the one to carry the bags to the kitchen, not letting you lift anything but the beach bag you’d left with at the start of your day. You met him in the kitchen in time to see him hoist everything onto the island.

 “All right, you’re all set there.”

 “Thank you, Superman.”

 He smiled and helped you unpack the items in the bags, laying them out on the counters and the island. Once that was finished, you made a move to the door.

 “I’m going to take a shower. I can feel sand everywhere.”

 What was to be a relatively quick shower quickly turned long because you needed to wash your hair and treat it, so you didn’t have any residual salt damage. No one liked breaking hair. That alone usually took almost an hour. Instead of going for the full experience, you cut a few corners in the routine but still managed to complete it. After throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank, you made your way back to the kitchen, ready to cook one of the best meals he’d ever have.

 With soft music playing and a towel wrapped around your hair while your leave-in heat treatment did what it was made to, you began prepping the ingredients. The soft music and time alone gave you more time to process the perfect day you’d just had. There was nothing about it that you’d change, even down to the intense tension that was constantly between you. If another day played out the same way, you still would think it was perfect.

 “All right, I’m clean now. Would you like some help?”

 Henry stood behind you in a tank and sweats with his hair full of curls.

 “Sure, you can actually prove to me that you know what you’re doing in here,” you teased as he approached your side.

 “I’m about to knock your knickers off.”

 You snorted and peeped at him. “Promise.”

 The flustered look on his face said he just realized the land mind he’s just stepped into. Pushing it to the side, you focused on the chives you were chopping.

 “What would you like me to do?”

 Looking around the kitchen, you assessed everything that needed to be done then delegated.

 “Those veggies need to be rough diced and washed.”

 “Consider it done,” Henry replied, stepping away to begin prep. Before he began, though, he walked to one of the bottles of wine you’d just gotten, popped it, and poured two glasses.

 “A little vino for you.”

 Smiling, you took the glass. “Thank you.”

 The two of you worked together chopping, dicing, and slicing the vegetables and herbs and the seafood for dinner. Every few minutes, your eyes met, and you giggled. Once the cooking began, Henry teased you about your towel wrapped hair, saying that was how magazine covers should show you. You watched his form and how he handled his knives and liked how he moved. He handled knives like he’d been doing it his whole life.

 When you saw him perfectly Julianne cut the cucumbers you practically drooled and were ready to push him against that island. You loved a man who could handle himself in the kitchen. Pumping iron and weights and a nice body was great, but cooking dinner for someone because you care, was a supreme turn on.

 When the lobster was steaming and the potatoes boiling, you leaned beside him and watched him kneed the dough he was prepping for what he called his famous sugar rolls.

 “So mentioned you have nieces or nephews? I don’t remember which,” you began.

 “Yes. Three nephews, no nieces.”

 “Cool. What’re their names?”

 Henry smiled as he spoke, “James and Peter and Lucas.”

 “Strong names.”

 “Yeah, Nik and Charlie picked them,” he said.

 “Nik—he’s the older brother, right?”

 “Oldest. I’m surprised you remember.”

 “No girl?”

 “Ha, Charlie really wants a girl. He has a son Lucas but dreams about having a daughter.”

 “Nice. I have two nephews, Niko and Milo, and a niece Aloa, my oldest sister Miesha,” you added.

 The way Henry smiled, you could tell he liked kids. “That’s nice. Do you see them a lot?”

 “I try. It’s hard, though, with my schedule.”

 He nodded, then shifted to the sink to rinse off the cucumbers before beginning with the carrots.

 “I understand.”

 With your curiosity piqued, you decided to dive right in. “So you like kids.”

 “Love kids,” he replied. “You?”

 “Uh—yeah. They’re precious.”

 “I’m guessing you’re close to your brothers.”

 “Oh god, yes, really, really close. We talk several times a day. They’re my first call when something good or bad happens, and it’s the same for them.”

 “That’s good. I’m close to mine too. We don’t talk every day, but I try. I do have a twin, so we don’t need to talk. We just know what’s going on with each other,” you explained.

 “How is that having a twin?”

 You shrugged and put a piece of cucumber into your mouth. “It’s everyday like for me. I don’t know what to say,” you said with a small chuckle.

 “Are all the clichés true?”

 You scoffed and went back to keeping yourself busy. “What clichés exactly?”

 “Oh, you know that you feel each other’s pain and feel what the other feels, oh that you know what they’re thinking.”

 You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It’s not like I fall down the stairs, and he feels me fall. That’s just impossible.”

 Henry nodded and moved to rinse the carrots.

 “Yeah, it’s more like a constant presence I feel. You—you never really feel alone, sort of like this constant connection or feeling like someone always has your back. We can feel what the other feels a lot of the time, but it’s sort of like a gut feeling more than an actual physical feeling. There are times he’ll feel when I’m sad and crying, and it’s incredibly annoying.”

 “I can imagine,” Henry started.

 Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to face him and waited for him to speak.

 “Does he feel everything—your moments of happiness or—pleasure?”

 Snorting, you laughed loudly, unable to keep it in.

 “Happiness, I think there could be valid proof to that. As for pleasure, no idea. It’s never been brought up but kinda creepy to think about that.”

 You both busted out laughing, realizing just how creepy it would be if there were any validity to that. Cooking together turned out to be really fun. Usually, you hated people in your space, but with Henry, you didn’t mind it at all. You didn’t mind the subtle way his body brushed yours whenever he passed you. You didn’t mind the sly looks across the kitchen when he took a sip of his wine. You didn’t mind the flirtation in the air, and when he watched you make your lemon cake for dessert, you didn’t mind that he was learning one of your secret recipes. It was something you felt you could get used to.

 Two hours later, you were bringing out one of the platters to the dining table in the yard just in time to catch Henry putting a clay vase filled with beautiful lavender and rapeseed flowers. The purple and yellow combo was so bright it looked like it belonged with the décor around you.

“Wow, would you look at that,” you began eyeing the perfectly set table. “You can set a table too.”

 His smile was wide. “I sure can.”

 “With the proper place settings. I’m impressed.”

 He ran his fingers through his hair and slowly licked his lips as he shrugged. “I didn’t go to finishing school or anything but--,” Henry trailed off, making you laugh at the sly reference to you.

 “Oh, okay, Mr. Cavill.”

 You backed away with your hands raised, making your way back to the kitchen with him following close behind. You pointed to him the items to go, and he walked with you back outside.

 “I know you think I eat a lot, but--.”

 “Oh, stop it. I am sure you have to have a high-calorie intake to maintain your Superman shape, so—ta-da,” you said, giving him jazz hands in front of the food-filled table.

 “Oh, so you’re looking out for me, huh.”

 “Of course. What else is your girlfriend supposed to do?”

 Henry’s smile slowly slipped before it reappeared but only for a second. “Girlfriend, huh?”

 Just like that, your stomach fell through the floor, fully realizing what you’d said. Now you felt like an idiot especially seeing his reaction.

 “Um—well--.”

 Not waiting for you to respond, Henry walked to your chair and pulled it out for you.

 “Uh—give me a second,” you said, bending forward to pull the towel off of your head.

 It had been well past the forty-five minutes you usually kept it on for, and you didn’t want to eat with this heavy thing on your head. Using your fingers, you combed through your curls then stood up to face him. This was practically the first time you stood before a man that wasn’t part of your family with your hair natural. You hated that you felt self-conscience about it. The look on his face was a lot different this time. His eyes were wide, and his mouth ajar.

 “Sorry. Thanks,” you said, slipping into the chair.

 Once he’d pushed you in, he sat across from you.

 “So I know you love your beer and steak,” you began with a smile. “So the steak is cooked in Guinness—a lot of Guinness.”

 Henry chuckled and assessed the steak on his plate while nodding.

 “Bon appetite.”

 Once henry put a slice of the steak in his mouth, he moaned and gave you the chef’s kiss. You knew exactly what it meant, the good ol seal of approval.

 “This is really good.”

 “I’m glad you like it.”

 After putting another slice of steak into his mouth, he nodded. “I love it. you’re a great cook.”

 “Thank you. I tried to tell you.”

 Henry chuckled, giving you a slight roll of his eyes before he continued eating. He was right dinner was good. While you ate, you enjoyed the setting sun and conversation about music, good food, and good wine. One bottle of wine quickly finished, then you were cracking open another and another. When dinner was finished, you sat there listening to the stories of his childhood where his mother played referee between five boys. The way he talked about her made her sound like a saint. It was clear to see how much he admired and loved her. That made you like him even more.

 By the time you climbed into bed for the night, your mind was racing a mile a minute, and all your thoughts were of Henry and the probability that he just might be the perfect man. That thought scared you even more than there being something wrong with him. If he were perfect, then it meant he was perfect for you, and perfect for you meant commitment, complications, and vulnerability while opening the stage for possible heartbreak. Even through the fear, one constant remained—you wanted him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[lingthusiasm]

Transcript Lingthusiasm Episode 52: Writing is a technology

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm Episode 52: Writing is a technology. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the Episode 52 show notes page.

[Music]

Gretchen: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Gretchen McCulloch.

Lauren: I’m Lauren Gawne. Today, we’re getting enthusiastic about writing as a technology. But first, do you wish there was more Lingthusiasm to listen to? Even though this is Episode 52, we have almost a hundred episodes of Lingthusiasm. Some of them exist as bonus episodes over at our Patreon.

Gretchen: If you want to listen to those and have more Lingthusiasm in your earballs, you can go to patron.com/lingthusiasm. This also helps keep the show ad-free. If you like listening to a show without ads, help us keep doing that.

Lauren: The Patreon also fosters this wonderful linguistics enthusiastic community. In fact, we have a Discord server, which is basically just a wonderful chat space for people to talk about linguistics. There are over 350 people on the Lingthusiasm Discord right now.

Gretchen: If you wish you had other lingthusiasts to talk to to share your interesting linguistics anecdotes and memes and general nerdery, and you want more people like that to talk to, you can join the Patreon to also get access to the Discord. We launched the Discord community just a year ago, and it’s been really fun to see it grow and thrive and take on a life of its own since then. If you are already a patron, and you haven’t linked your Patreon and Discord account together, it’s there waiting for you. Feel free to come join us.

Lauren: We have Patreon supporter levels at a range of tiers. Some of them include additional merch. One of my favourite perks is the very scientific Lingthusiasm IPA quiz where we send you a short quiz and then we give you your own custom IPA character which is enshrined on our Wall of Fame.

Gretchen: It’s a fun quiz. We have fun looking at people’s answers.

Lauren: Our most recent bonus episode is a collection of some of our favourite anecdotes from interviews and from other episodes that didn’t quite make it into the original episode. We’re delighted to share those in that bonus episode.

Gretchen: You get to see a bit behind-the-scenes with that episode. Also, do you want more linguistics on your favourite other podcasts?

Lauren: Always.

Gretchen: Constantly. We’re also very happy to do podcast interviews on other shows about various topics. If there’re other podcasts that you like that you wish would do a linguistics episode and interview one of us, you should tell them that! We’re happy to come on. Tag us both or something on social media or tell your favourite podcasts that they could do a linguistics episode because we’d be happy to do that.

[Music]

Lauren: Gretchen, do you remember learning how to read?

Gretchen: Not really. I mean, I remember encountering the alphabet chart in my first year of school, but I already sort of knew the alphabet at that point. I guess there was some point when I didn’t know how to read, and there was some point when I did, but I don’t really have concrete memories of that. Do you remember learning how to read?

Lauren: I feel like I have more memories of learning how to write, just because that’s such a mechanical thing. I remember sitting there writing out a row of As. I definitely wrote the number “five” backward for way longer than I probably should have, which is a really common thing that happens when kids are learning to write because it is a combination of brain skills and fine motor skills. But reading in English is something I feel like I’ve always just been able to do. I mean, I guess in comparison learning to read Nepali, which is written in a different script – it’s written in the Devanagari script – I have more memories of that because I did that in my 20s. Even now, I still feel the real disconnect between being relatively able to chat and really struggling to read and write. I still have to put my finger under the words as I’m going through, whereas with English it just feels like the words are beaming straight into my brain because I learnt to read that language so early in my life.

Gretchen: Yeah, I read at this automatic level. I can’t see a sign that says, “Stop,” on it and not read it in Latin script. But in undergrad I took both Ancient Greek and Arabic. In Greek, I got to the point – because the script is sort of similar enough and I was familiar enough with the letters previously-ish – that I got to the point where I could very slowly sound out words as I was reading them out loud because we had to do a lot of reading aloud in Greek class. But in Arabic, I was very much at that hooked on phonics level where you’re like, /p/-/t/-/k/-/a/. There are a few words that I have as sight words in Arabic. One of them is the word for “and,” which is “waa”, and one of the words for “the,” which is “al”, and one of them is the word for “book” because “kitaab” just shows up all the time. But most of the words I had to painstakingly sound out each letter and then listen to myself as I was saying them. I’d be like, “Oh, it’s that word,” even if I knew it, which is this process that I must’ve gone through in English, but I don’t remember doing it for the Latin script.

Lauren: I think that is one of the things that makes it really hard for people who grow up in highly literate, highly educated societies to tease writing and reading apart from language. But actually, when you step back, you realise that writing is actually super weird.

Gretchen: It’s so weird! It’s this interesting – it really is a technology. It’s a thing you do on top of language to do stuff with language, but it’s not the language itself. There are thousands and possibly millions of languages that have never been written down in the history of humanity. We have no idea. We’ve never met a society of humans, or heard of a society of humans, without language. But those are spoken and signed languages, which are just kind of there. Writing, by contrast, was invented somewhere between 3 and 4 times in the history of humanity.

Lauren: That we know of.

Gretchen: That we know of.

Lauren: There might’ve been a society that did a very ephemeral form of snow writing that we have lost forever. But we have records of 3 or 4 times.

Gretchen: It’s been invented a handful of times. There are a few other cases where there are scripts that haven’t been deciphered by modern humans. Maybe they’re scripts, maybe they’re not – it’s not quite clear. But it’s definitely a handful of number of times. And then once other cultures come in contact with the technology of writing, they’re like, “Oh, this is cool. Let’s adapt this to our linguistic situation,” and it gets borrowed a heck of a lot. But it only got cemented a few times.

Lauren: It’s worth saying that “3 to 4” is a bit squishy because it’s not entirely clear if cuneiform, which is a very pointy form of writing from Babylonia, somehow inspired the Egyptian system that became what we know as the hieroglyphs or if they just happened around the same time by coincidence are something we may never really fully put together. That’s a very contested situation. That’s why we can’t even pin down the number of times we think it was invented.

Gretchen: Cuneiform is the one that’s made with the sharpened reed that you push into your clay tablets or, if you’re some people on the internet, into your gingerbread because there’s some really excellent examples of cuneiform gingerbread tablets people have made, which I just wanna – yeah, it’s really great. The Egyptian hieroglyphs people have seen. But yeah, it’s unclear whether they were in contact with each other and kind of heard of each other in a very loose sense and were inspired by each other because there was some amount of contact between those two areas, or if that was elsewhere. The other two – one is in Mesoamerica, in modern-day Mexico and that area, where they had a writing system there that, again, developed into lots of different scripts as it got borrowed from different areas, of which the best deciphered is the Mayan script from the 3rd Century BCE. There’s also the Olmec script, which is probably the oldest. The Zapotec script is also really old. There’s a bunch of scripts in the modern-day Mexico area that also developed independently.

Lauren: Then the final system arose in China around the Bronze Age a couple of thousand years BCE. Because this script was mostly found in its most earliest forms on oracle bones, it’s known as the “oracle bone” script.

Gretchen: What is an oracle bone?

Lauren: They are turtle bones that are used in divination.

Gretchen: Oh.

Lauren: Yeah.

Gretchen: And, again, the Chinese script, once it developed further, it was also, yeah, influenced a bunch of the other writing systems in the area.

Lauren: I find it super fascinating, with absolutely no historical knowledge or insight to bring to this, that in these three different places that were completely separate and going about their own cultural lives writing arose at a similar time around 3,000 to 4,000 years ago.

Gretchen: Yeah! You wonder what was in the water or something. Well, and it’s partially, I think, that there’s a certain level of writing makes it easier to do things like administrative bureaucracy if you’re trying to keep track of whether people paid their taxes or – it’s a very empire-y thing to have is to develop a writing system.

Lauren: Oh yeah. And it’s absolutely worth stating that it’s not like three people in these three different locations all woke up on the same Tuesday 4,000 years ago and were like, “I’m gonna write a long letter to someone.”

Gretchen: Did they have Tuesdays 4,000 years ago?

Lauren: What you see is this emergence of, “I’m just gonna make a couple of notes so I know how much money you owe me.” Some of the earliest cuneiform tablets we have are just, like, beer supply stock takes.

Gretchen: Like, “Three oxes and this many baskets of grain” or whatever.

Lauren: I feel like it’s very human to be like, “We love writing because it’s poetry, and I can send letters to people I love,” and it’s like, no, it’s actually, “I just wanted to know how much you owe me.”

Gretchen: The king just wants to know if these people have paid their taxes.

Lauren: So, what you get is – although I’m like, “Oh, it all happened within similar millennia,” it is actually centuries of development from just keeping tabs on a few items to a fully fleshed out written system.

Gretchen: What types of things people thought were important to write down – things like legal codes and stuff like that – one of the interesting things that I came across when I was looking this up was that there’s a person named Enheduanna, who is the earliest known poet whose name has been recorded. She was the high priestess of the goddess Inanna and the moon god Nanna in the Sumerian city-state of Ur. There we go. But authorship shows up much later than some anonymous civil servant keeping track of who’s registered which grain or some anonymous priest or something keeping track of who’s made various offerings. This idea of like, “Oh, you’re gonna write poetry,” is a step later.

Lauren: Filing your tax is what is actually one of the best links you have to those ancient civilisations.

Gretchen: There’s this Egyptian named Ptahhotep – that’s “Pta,” P-T, even though I know I’m not pronouncing it that way – he was a vizier in Egypt. He’s also one of the first named writers, the first book in history – or people call him the first book in history – because he wrote these Maxims of Ptahhotep. There may have been people who were writing on more perishable materials that didn’t get recorded and stuff like that. It’s this whole process of, “Okay, I’m going to draw these little diagrams of oxen or something or draw these little diagrams of this plant or this animal or whatever to record what types of things get recorded.” But then in order for it to actually become a writing system, there’s also this step of abstraction that has to happen. This is when you start saying, “Okay, well, the word for this very easily visualisable thing” – so I’m thinking of oxen because the word for “ox” in one of the Semitic languages, I think, was something like /alef/. And so, this “ox’s head” gets transformed into, “Okay, what if this is the sound at the beginning of the word for ‘ox’s head,’” which is /alef/, and it gets transformed into our modern letter A, which is “alpha.” “Alpha” in Greek is just the name of the letter. It’s not “an ox’s head” in Greek anymore because the Greeks borrowed it form the Phoenicians. This level of abstraction that has to go from, “Okay, I’m gonna draw an ox’s head” – if you turn a capital A upside down, it kind of looks like an ox’s head.

Lauren: It’s got its little horns, which are the feet of an A.

Gretchen: Yeah, and there’re all these related languages. You know, Arabic’s got alif at the beginning, even though it doesn’t look like an ox’s head anymore. Hebrew’s got an alef, and Greek’s got an alpha, and all of these alphabets that begin with A. It’s this level of abstraction where you can use this thing to stand for this thing that was associated with an ox.

Lauren: There’re a couple of main different ways that you can relate these abstract images that you’re putting down in writing to the language that you are trying to capture. Of course, being a linguistics podcast, I was gonna bring this straight back to the structure of language.

Gretchen: Well, I think it’s interesting to look at the structure of languages in different areas of the world, and how people reflect those in the writing systems that are developed for those languages. When they borrow a writing system for a language with a very different structure, they end up doing certain adaptations to account for not just like, “Okay, languages have different sounds,” but also those sounds are organised and structured in different ways with relationship to each other. The writing systems often reflect some of that history.

Lauren: The Latin alphabet that both of us are most familiar with has a very approximate correspondence between each character of the writing system and a sound in the language. And I say “approximate” because English spelling is a wonderful historical record of how some of those sound changes have changed over time. I’m just gonna keep this upbeat. You can fall down a giant well of English writing system problems, but to get to a point where the majority of letters have a pretty stable correspondence to sounds that we recognise as phones in the language, and that allows us to write out the words of English.

Gretchen: One of the things that’s true about a lot of the Indo-European languages is that they have a particular ratio between consonants and vowels in the words, where they have a fair bit of consonants in relationship to their vowels but not a ton. You can see this in the writing system because the writing system represents consonants and vowels separately. And yet, when the Greeks were borrowing the alphabet from the Phoenicians – Phoenician is a Semitic language like modern-day Arabic and Hebrew – that alphabet only had consonants in it – letters for consonants – because the vowels were not that important. This is still true of modern-day Semitic languages is they’re often written in writing systems that don’t represent the vowels or kind of optionally represent the short vowels, or sometimes they represent the long vowels, but they’re often written in writing systems where the vowels can be omitted. That’s not really a thing you can do very well in Indo-European languages and still have things understood because the vowels carry enough information that you need to represent them somehow.

Lauren: Even when you have a phonemic script, it’s not necessary to always represent all of the sounds to convey the language.

Gretchen: Right. Then conversely, there are other languages where the vowels are even more important and, in fact, every consonant comes with a vowel or virtually every consonant comes with a vowel. In those, you often get what are called “syllabaries,” where they represent one syllable at a time, because why bother with representing each of these things separately when in every context where you have a consonant there’s gonna be a nearby vowel – or in virtually every context there’s gonna be a nearby vowel – and so you can have a symbol that just represents the whole syllable there. That’s also a structure that doesn’t work very well for Indo-European languages because they don’t have that many vowels. There’s this spot of like they have important enough vowels that you need to represent the vowels somehow but not so important are vowels that you have to represent lots of vowels all the time, whereas languages like Japanese or Hindi – well, Hindi’s Indo-European, but it’s got more vowels, I guess.

Lauren: The Devanagari writing system is inherently focused on the syllable, which is a very different approach to reading. Each character of this writing system, if there’s no vowel specified, it just comes with a bonus vowel. It’s like, “Buy this consonant, get this free letter A sound.”

Gretchen: Right. That’s partly a feature of the writing system, but it can only be a feature of the writing system because it’s already a feature of the language. A similar thing goes for a language like Chinese, where a lot of things are based around a syllable.

Lauren: Then you can go a level of abstraction further where your character in the writing system represents a word-level thing and doesn’t have a direct relationship to the sound correspondence, which is what happens with the Chinese script.

Gretchen: I think it’s important to recognise that there is a phonetic component to Chinese characters. They often make use of – especially for words that are more abstract – it’s not just like, “Oh, here’s a bunch of little pictures that we’ve drawn,” because that’s not capable of conveying abstract concepts like grammatical particles and words for things that don’t come with easy pictures. And so, making use of, “Okay, a lot of our words are one or two syllables long, so here’s a word that’s relatively easy to visualise that sounds very similar to a word that is not as easy to visualise.” We can just add a thing to be like, “It sounds like this, but it’s got a meaning more related to this,” and you can be like, “Oh, it must be this more abstract word.” The classic example, which I’m definitely gonna do the tones wrong on, is that the word for “horse” is /ma/, and the word for mother is also /ma/ with a different tone, and you can add the little horse semantic component with the woman semantic component and be like, “Oh, it’s the word that sounds like ‘horse’ but has to do with something with a woman,” and then you end up with “mother.”

Lauren: This works for languages in China because they tend to be not as long as words in English. We like to add all these extra bits of morphology within our grammar, whereas, again, you get – not a direct rule force – but you get this general tendency where the writing system kind of fits with the vibe of the grammar of the language.

Gretchen: One example of that is in Japanese where they were heavily influenced by the Chinese script, but Japanese actually does have suffixes and other little grammatical words and things you need to change about words. They made some of the Chinese characters that had formerly only had semantic things into just like, “Oh, this makes this sound, and this makes this sound,” because they needed to be able to represent that morphological information that’s not super important in Chinese but is very important in Japanese. You end up adapting a script into something else when it gets borrowed in a different context. Another interesting example here is Farsi or Persian which is an Indo-European language that’s conventionally written with the same script as Arabic except it’s also had a couple of additional letters added because Persian has a P and Arabic doesn’t. They had to create a symbol for the sound P, which is why you get “Farsi” instead of “Parsi” because Arabic doesn’t pronounce that P. So, it makes the P into an F. Sometimes you get people adding additional letters like adding a letter for P. Sometimes you get adapting whole sets of a script.

Lauren: Sometimes you lose letters. English had distinct characters for /θ/ and /ð/ until it was technologically easier to just use the characters in the printing press that English had borrowed. It’s makes me a little bit sad. But also, it makes international people – maybe it’s a little bit easier.

Gretchen: We used to have a thorn for the /ð/ sound, but those early printing presses from continental Europe didn’t have thorns on them. I mean, Icelandic still has thorns. One of the things that I think is more interesting in the closer to modern era – not strictly modern era – is cultures and peoples that are familiar with the idea of writing yet take the idea of writing and say, “We’re gonna make our own homegrown script that actually works really well for our particular language.” One of my favourites is the Cherokee syllabary, which was invented by Sequoyah, who was a Cherokee man who didn’t know how to read in English, but he’d encountered the Latin-based writing system in English. He thought it was cool that the English speakers had this, and so he locked himself in shed for several years and came up with a syllabary for Cherokee. Some of the symbols on the Cherokee syllabary look something like Latin letters, but they stand for completely different things because he wasn’t just learning to read from English. Some of them are completely different. This became hugely popular among the Cherokee in the area. There were newspapers in this in the 1800s. There was very high literacy in Cherokee country. It was really popular. It’s even still found on modern-day computer keyboards and stuff like this. You can get Windows and stuff in Cherokee. It’s this interesting example of that’s one where we can say a particular person was inspired by writing systems but also created his own thing that became very popular.

Lauren: The thing that makes Cherokee so compelling to me is not only did he come up with an incredibly elegant, well thought out, suits the language system, but that he actually got uptake as well – that the community decided to use this as the writing system that they would learn to read and write in, and that it had uptake. It’s very easy to come up with ways of improving the technology of writing but, as I think you’re fond of saying, language is very much an open-source project. You can come up with really elegant solutions, but if no one else is gonna take them up, that’s not gonna be very helpful. So, Sequoyah’s work is doubly amazing for that reason.

Gretchen: People actually made printing presses with the Cherokee symbols and were using those. Another interesting case of this disconnect between a person or people coming up with a system and actual uptake of it is Korean, which has what I think linguists generally agree is just the best writing system.

Lauren: Yeah, we’re like, “Writing as a technology is amazing. All writing systems are equally valid. But Korean is particularly great.”

Gretchen: “But Korean’s really cool.” The thing that’s cool about it from a completely biased linguist perspective is that the writing system of Korean, Hangul, the script, is not just based on individual sounds or phonemes, it’s actually at a more precise level based on the shape of the mouth and how you configure the mouth in order to make those particular sounds. There’s a lot of, okay, here are these closely related sounds – let’s say you make them all with the lips – and you just add an additional stroke to make it this other related sound that you make with the lips. Between P and B and M, which are all made with the lips, those symbols have a similar shape. It’s not an accident. It’s very systematic between that and the same thing with T and D and N. Those have a similar shape because they have this relationship. It’s very technically beautiful from an analysis of language perspective.

Lauren: I love this so much that when we were prototyping a potential script for the Aramteskan language for the Shadowscent books, when I was constructing that language, I also started constructing a script that we never used anywhere, but it was helpful to think about how the characters would write and what writing implements they would use. If you look at the script, you’ll notice that the letter P and B are very similar, but B has an additional stroke. T and D are very similar, but D has an additional stroke. Very much feature driven. And then for the vowels – it’s roughly a quadrant in the writing space – the /i/ vowel is in the top left of the quadrant, the /u/ vowel is in the top right of the quadrant, the /a/ vowel is in the bottom left of the quadrant.

Gretchen: So clever!

Lauren: It was actually just for really selfish reasons that I decided to go with a feature-based system, and that is that it was easier for me to remember if I used the features of the language and made sure that the voiced sound was always identical to the voiceless one but just with an additional stroke. It meant that I only had to remember half the characters.

Gretchen: That’s very elegant. The easy to remember bit is also true about the Hangul script because it’s got so much regularity. The famous quote about Hangul is something like “A wise man can learn it in an afternoon and a foolish man can learn it in a day.”

Lauren: So catchy!

Gretchen: There’s probably a better version of that quote. What’s interesting about it from an adoption perspective is that Hangul was invented by Sejong the Great.

Lauren: Appropriately named.

Gretchen: Who has a national holiday now because of the script. But it was created in 1443. It’s not quite clear whether it was him personally doing everything or whether he had an advisory committee of linguists, but it’s really extremely well-adapted to the linguistic situation of Korean in particular. Even though it’s just also really cool for how it represents the inside of the mouth, but it’s really well adapted for Korean. It was invented in 1443, but it wasn’t popularised in use until several centuries later because for a long time Korean was also using, like Japanese, this adapted version of the Chinese script or adapted version of the Japanese script because of the cultural influences. In the early 20th century, they were doing a much bigger literacy push in Korea to be like, “What want everyone to learn how to read.” And they said, “Okay, we’re gonna have an orthographic reform, and we’re gonna use this script which has this very nice historical pedigree but also is much easier to learn than this complicated thing that we had done that wasn’t really designed for Korean.” It’s got this historical antecedence but also it came back in the modern-day. Now, everything in Korean is written in it. It’s because it’s really easy to learn how to read and write in. The historical uptake wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t during King Sejong’s lifetime where they were like, “Oh, yeah, now we’re all gonna use his script,” people were like, “Okay, king, you’ve got this hobby,” but it wasn’t popularised until later.

Lauren: Even when there is really strong abstraction, humans have this unavoidable tendency to think about the relationship between sounds and other senses. In sound-based writing systems – Suzy Styles, who has been on the podcast before and works on perception across the senses, did an experiment alongside Nora Turoman where they looked at whether people can guess, for writing systems they’re not familiar with, which character was the /u/ sound and which character was the /i/ sound. They found that for a whole variety of scripts there is a much higher than chance – because there’s only two choices. If was completely arbitrary, it would be 50/50. But people do tend, across the evolution of sound-based writing systems, to have /u/ that has a more rounded, bigger sound has properties in the writing system that re-occur. People continue to unavoidably link the sounds of the language to the written properties of the script in a very low-level way. I’ll link to that study. It’s really great.

Gretchen: That’s interesting. It’s not gonna be 100%, but there’s this slightly better than chance relationship.

Lauren: Yeah.

Gretchen: Visual representation of physical information is also something that shows up in ways of writing signed languages.

Lauren: Yeah. Everything we’ve talked about so far, I think, we’ve talked about for spoken languages, but it is possible to write signed languages as well.

Gretchen: There are several different systems in place. Some of them are language-specific like, “Oh, this is the system for writing ASL in particular,” and some of them are kind of like your linguist, International Phonetic Alphabet trying to provide a language-agnostic way of writing signed languages for research purposes but, in a way, that’s sort of impractical, like the IPA for general use. There’s an interesting set of systems. There isn’t as much agreement among representers of signed languages in writing which amounts of information are crucial information that has to be written down and which are optional bits of information that the reader can fill in from their own knowledge of the language and the signer.

Lauren: I think it’s worth flagging that that’s not just a discussion that arises for signed languages. It’s just that those conversations got thrashed out for spoken languages four millennia ago, and we weren’t around when people were arguing about whether intonation had any role in the – or people probably were arguing because it was an emerging thing.

Gretchen: Well, when people were arguing about like, “Do we write vowels or not,” which was a big thing. Do we write vowels? Do we write intonation? And punctuation followed quite a bit after – you know, punctuation wasn’t as much of a thing for several of the early centuries and millennia of writing. They didn’t do punctuation. There’s some level of ongoingness that’s still there. If you think about the internet efforts to try to write tone of voice very precisely and communicate sarcasm and irony and rhetorical questions very precisely, there’s some level of ongoing debate that’s still happening in the spoken language context but not nearly as much as is still happening in the signed language context.

Lauren: Also, just because of the way that signed language communities tend to be embedded within larger spoken language communities, people who sign as a primary language tend to also be educated in the mainstream spoken language, and so literacy gets developed in, say, a language like English.

Gretchen: I think that’s the case for a lot of smaller spoken languages as well where sometimes there’s this imperative of, “Okay, we want to be able to write things to each other” or something, but if there hasn’t been a history of a lot of published literature in that language that you’re trying to read, then it becomes a question of, “Should we teach this in school,” because there isn’t literature there, even though there would be oral literature. It becomes a chicken and egg problem of which comes first, or which do you start teaching first, when you’re constantly comparing stuff against a few very large spoken languages that have this very long writing tradition. It shows up in languages with a newer writing tradition.

Lauren: Education systems have a massive influence there. My grandmother, actually her strongest written language is German. Even though she and her sister speak to each other in Polish, they would write to each other in German because that’s the language they had been educated to write in. Even with people who don’t speak minority languages, the influence of the education system there is so massive.

Gretchen: Reading and writing, they’re separate skills even though they’re often taught together. Sometimes you can read a language that you can’t write or something like that. But it’s a big question. With signed languages, because video technology is now available, if we’d had good audio recording technology 4,000 years ago, the pressure to develop writing systems for spoken languages might not have been as strong – probably wouldn’t have been as strong – even though there are other useful things that writing can do even in the audio-video era. It’s easier to be like, “Well, you can just make a video of the signer,” and then you’d know exactly what they were trying to say and exactly how they wanted to say it. You wouldn’t have this level of abstraction of are you gonna try to write it down in a way that imperfectly represents what a person is gonna do when they’re producing it. It is still interesting looking at some of the signed language writing systems. Some of them, like Stokoe notation and HamNoSys, which stands for “Hamburg Notation System,” they try to very physically represent the characteristics of the signer – where their hands are, where their face is, and things like that. There’s another one that I can’t find the name of that is based on the ASCII alphabet, so you can type it into search engine boxes, which has some advantages as well but represents things more abstractly. It’s got this link with Korean, which was representing this very physical aspect of what the mouth is doing. Several of the signed language writing systems like Stokoe and HamNoSys also have this very physical representation what the body’s doing when it’s being produced. But I think they’re more popular among researchers than they are among actual D/deaf users who tend to use video a lot.

Lauren: I encounter Stokoe and HamNoSys in the gesture and signed linguistics literature. I haven’t really seen them too much outside of that.

Gretchen: I think that it’s easy to conflate a language with its writing system because we’re so used to thinking of English as sort of inextricably linked to the Latin alphabet. But there isn’t a reason, in theory, why you couldn’t write English in the Greek alphabet or in the Arabic alphabet or in a very adapted version of Chinese characters where you’d have to do a lot of adaptation. The same thing is true when you write languages that don’t originally use the Latin alphabet and you have romanisations of them. Writing systems are just as much political and contextual. Some of them have this very tight structural relationship to the properties of the languages they represent and some of them have looser relationships because they’ve been adapted to it later.

Lauren: It’s this slightly looser relationship to language as it’s spoken or signed that means that linguists don’t always include writing systems in, say, an Introduction to Linguistics course. We don’t often talk about writing systems. But when we were putting together the Crash Course series, we ended up making writing the topic of our final episode for the series.

Gretchen: I think partly because people are really interested in it, so why not do something about writing, and also because I think that you can use writing systems as a window into some of the interesting structural features of different languages and how the writing systems represent that. As somebody who’s really interested in internet linguistics and the rise of informal writing and how we represent tone of voice and things like that in modern-day writing, and that’s still a moving target evolutionarily speaking, I think it’s interesting to give that linguistic lens on writing systems even though they are imperfect representations of the languages that they represent.

Lauren: “Writing Systems” is Video 16 of Crash Course linguistics, which is wrapping up this month. If you’ve been holding out to watch all 16 of those episodes, you’ll be able to do so very soon or perhaps even now thanks to the temporal vagueness of podcasts.

Gretchen: Crash Course is the YouTube series that we’ve been working on basically all of 2020. It’s especially popular with high school or undergraduate teaching. If you know people that age, or who teach people that age, that may be a useful thing to send to people. We hope that people find it useful as a resource for self-teaching or for instructing in various capacities.

[Music]

Lauren: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @Lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, “Not judging your grammar, just analysing it” mugs, and other Lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I tweet and blog as Superlinguo.

Gretchen: I can be found as @GretchenAMcC on Twitter, my blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com, and book about internet language is called Because Internet. Have you listened to all the Lingthusiasm episodes and you wish there were more? You can access to 48 bonus episodes to listen to right now at patreon.com/lingthusiasm or follow the links from our website. Patrons also get access to our Discord chat room to talk with other linguistics fans – like, do you remember learning how to read – and other rewards as well as helping keep the show ad-free. Recent bonus topics include an AMA with a lexicographer and our favourite stories and anecdotes that we just didn’t have time for in some of the earlier episodes. Can’t afford to pledge? That’s okay, too. We also really appreciate it if you could recommend Lingthusiasm to anyone who needs a little more linguistics in their life. And, hey, tell your other favourite podcasts that they could a linguistics episode, and get us on! It’d be fun.

Lauren: Lingthusiasm is created and produced by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our Senior Producer is Claire Gawne, our Editorial Producer is Sarah Dopierala, and our music is “Ancient City” by The Triangles.

Gretchen: Stay lingthusiastic!

[Music]

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

[august-anon]

“Are you scared?” with danbrey maybe 👀 ~spikey 🌵💞

Me: these are gonna be shorter prompts, a few hundred words or so

This fic: lol you thought

Thank you for the prompt Spikey, I hope you like this! Also I’m not editing this so hopefully it’s fine lol

----

I’m Not Scared

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Amnesty

Ship(s): Danbrey

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Aubrey/Ler!Dani

Word Count: 1305 words

Summary: Aubrey and Dani want to try something new, despite their nerves. Dani happens to make a new discovery in the process.

[ao3 link]

ALSO: warnings for some kissing/kinda making out lol

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

“Are you scared?” Dani asked, rubbing the sheets between her fingers as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Aubrey blinked, turned an incredulous look in her direction. “Of you?”

Dani shrugged. “Well, yeah. We’ve done closed-mouth kissing and all, and that’s okay but…” Dani trailed off, searching for words. In the end, she decided to simply bare her sharp teeth at Aubrey. “Yknow?”

Aubrey rolled her eyes, inelegantly climbing onto the bed next to Dani. “Come on, it’s not like you’re going to bite me. We’ll make out a little and it’ll be just fine!”

Dani gave her an odd smile.

“What?” Aubrey asked, running a hand through her hair. “Do I have something on my face? Leaves in my hair? It’s kinda hard not to have leaves in your hair, with all this forest around.”

Dani laughed lightly, shaking her head. “No, it’s just… I didn’t expect you to be so cool about this. My teeth are pretty sharp.”

Aubrey leveled Dani with a very serious look, taking both of Dani’s hands in her own. “I love your teeth.”

Dani tumbled into louder laughter, squeezing Aubrey’s hands. Aubrey broke into a grin and squeezed her hands back, tucking a strand of Dani’s hair behind her ear. Dani took one of her hands back to reach up and cup Aubrey’s jaw.

“How do we wanna do this?”

Aubrey shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve had many relationships to figure it out. Don’t we just… start kissing?”

Dani flashed her a sharp-toothed grin. “I’ll admit, it’s been a while since my last relationship, too.”

Aubrey nodded. “Right, so. Kissing.”

Dani laughed again. “Kissing.”

Aubrey leaned in first, Dani meeting her in the middle. The kiss was nice, but quick and chaste, like all of their kisses. Aubrey sighed slightly when they pulled back, opening her eyes to look at Dani.

“I’m starting to think that you’re the scared one, here.”

Dani bit her lip gently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, babe.” Aubrey pulled Dani closer by wrapping an arm around her waist. “But if you really don’t wanna do this, we can stop. Put on a movie or something.”

Dani shook her head. “No, I want to kiss you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Aubrey searched her eyes. Dani rolled her own and leaned in until their noses were touching. She giggled when Aubrey went a little cross-eyed to look at her.

“Consider this my enthusiastic consent.”

Then Dani tilted her head, pressing her lips to Aubrey’s once more. Aubrey hummed and kissed back, but let Dani take the lead on this one. When Dani tilted her head to deepen the kiss, Aubrey followed. When Dani got confident enough to lean into Aubrey, Aubrey held up both of their weight. When Dani pushed Aubrey back against the bed, Aubrey certainly had no complaints about the cute vampire lady suddenly in her lap.

"Is this okay?” Dani panted against her lips.

“More than okay,” Aubrey said, before tugging Dani down into another kiss, then trailing a series of light kisses down her jaw and neck.

Dani sighed, her eyes fluttering. “I wanna do that, too.”

Aubrey nodded and tilted her head back to give Dani more space. Dani pressed gentle kisses to the skin, leaving Aubrey sighing and relaxing into the bed. She smirked when Dani grew more adventurous, getting dangerously close to leaving a hickey (that Aubrey would be certain to wear with pride).

Except then Dani scraped her sharp teeth against Aubrey’s neck, and Aubrey’s eyes shot open as she squealed.

Dani practically flew off her with how fast she moved. Aubrey blinked at the space she had been, cold air settling against her where Dani had previously been keeping her warm. Aubrey slowly sat up, brows furrowed. She found Dani on the other side of the bed, hand over her mouth and eyes wide with guilt.

“Wha--”

“Aubrey, I am so sorry--”

“Dani, what--”

“--I didn’t mean to, I just forgot, and then I used them, and I hurt you--”

“Dani, slow down--”

“--are you okay? Do we need to call for help? Oh god, maybe we should call for help.”

Aubrey crawled over and reached up, dragging Dani’s hand away from her mouth. Dani pressed her lips tightly together, as if trying to hide her teeth, but it did make her stop taking. Maybe now she would listen.

“I’m not hurt, Dani.”

Dani furrowed her brow.

“In fact, the opposite. I don’t know about you, but I was definitely having a lot of fun.”

“But you yelled,” Dani said. “I hurt you.”

Aubrey felt her cheeks grow warm. “Uh, didn’t--didn’t hurt, actually.”

Dani shook her head. “Aubrey, then what--”

“It tickled,” Aubrey grumbled, looking away and reaching up to rub the back of her neck.

Dani blinked. “You’re ticklish?”

“Very, apparently.”

Dani’s shoulders relaxed, and a small almost-smile returned to her face. “I guess the neck is off-limits, then?”

Aubrey hid her face in her hands with a groan, only getting more embarrassed at how much heat she could feel radiating off her skin. She felt Dani shift on the bed before a hand came up to squeeze her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Aubrey, I don’t mind--”

“I kinda liked it.”

It was silent for a moment, but Aubrey didn’t dare look up. She didn’t want to see the weirded-out look that was probably on Dani’s face.

“You liked it?”

Aubrey nodded, wondering why Dani felt the need to rub it in. She was normally so sweet.

But then Aubrey quickly found herself being pushed over once more, her back hitting the bed and the air escaping her lungs with a woosh. Hesitantly, carefully, Aubrey pulled her hands away from her face and peered up at Dani. Her stomach fluttered at Dani’s mischievous, teasing grin, at the way her fingers were flexing like they were barely holding themselves back from searching out her most sensitive places, at the way Dani’s eyes roamed over her neck like she was prey.

“What about now?” Dani asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Are you scared, now?”

Aubrey gulped, a nervous grin fighting its way onto her lips. She could already feel the giggles bubbling up in her chest, barely able to hold them back, and it only got harder when Dani raised her wiggling fingers and bared her teeth in a grin.

“Of you?” Aubrey said, smile becoming more genuine. “Never.”

Dani’s predatory grin softened. “Good.”

Then, without warning, Dani dove in. Aubrey squealed again when Dani’s teeth gently skimmed over her neck, sending tingles racing under her skin. She burst into giggles only a moment later when the sensation didn’t stop. It was unbearably teasing, the touch light enough to be almost tortuous in the best of ways. The tingling only seemed to get worse the longer Dani kept at it, sending Aubrey from giggles to cackling alarmingly quickly.

Aubrey cried out again when she felt Dani’s fingers sneaking up her sides, her nails just as unbearably ticklish as her teeth even through Aubrey’s shirt. Dani laughed against her neck, the breath against her skin sending Aubrey squirming and squealing again. She clutched desperately at Dani’s shoulders, but made no move to push her away. Dani pressed a gentle kiss at the crook of her shoulder and neck (and even that tickled, with how keyed up Aubrey was at this point) before pulling back just slightly.

“It’s a good thing you like this,” Dani remarked casually, like Aubrey wasn’t still laughing beneath her still-wiggling fingers. “Because I love it when you laugh.”

“Dani!”

“And I don’t think I’m gonna stop anytime soon.”

Aubrey squealed when Dani’s teeth were back on her neck. She found she didn’t particularly mind the idea of Dani tickling her into oblivion.

[julemmaes]

“What are you smiling about?” Prompt for acotar, Nesta and Cassian❤️✨

You fucking tease

Cassian and Nesta Archeron modern au

“What are you smiling about?”

Hope you like it cause I’ve had so much fun writing it and it’s kinda different from what I’m used to write so, yep. I don’t think it’s “complete” so feel free to send other prompts if you’d like a part two. I’ll gladly write that too;)

edit: part two is here and it’s just plain smut, if you wanna read it:)

Word count: 2,132

Nesta was having the best day of her life.

Normally she would have passed in front of all her colleagues with that cold look and that calculated impassive expression on her face, but today she couldn't stop smiling, showing her perfect white teeth. She was also tremendously distracted, too excited by the news she had just received and the fact that her boss had given her the rest of the day off to celebrate. Perhaps that was why while she hurried to her office she almost tripped over one of the interns, who apologized immediately noting who had bumped into him. Nesta smiled more widely, apologizing in turn, and the boy went pale.

Once in her office, she quickly took her things and sent a message to Cassian, warning him that they were going out for dinner that night and that she had some good news to share. The message was read immediately, but she received no immediate response, as she normally did with her husband, which caused her to frown. She shook her head, grinning, thinking he must have been with a client.

She greeted her secretary, who, having recovered from the woman's ambiguous behavior, waved back.

She walked out of the building and raised her hand to stop one of the hundreds of cabs that were parked in front of her office and once she was sitting down and after giving the address to the driver, she picked up the phone again, to check if Cassian had answered. He had not.

Not wanting to dwell too much on why her husband ignored her, she decided to open the group chat with her sisters.

Biiig news coming! Wanna go out tomorrow night for drinks?

The answers of both of them didn't take long to arrive and Nesta felt a wave of affection towards her little sisters. They had always been very supportive and caring of each other and every time something good happened, after their respective husbands, they were always the first to be told everything. Their relationship had never been perfect, but they had always been there for the big events and Nesta wanted to shout to the whole world what had just happened.

From Feyruh: Oh my! You got promoted?

From E-lame: I told you you'd get the promotion. I'm free after seven.

Nesta simply answered with a smiley face to Feyre and told them both that she would pick them up after she left work. They then talked about this and that and only when the cab stopped and the driver turned towards her did she realize that she had arrived at her destination. She paid the man and made a quick run to cross the street, immediately entering the bright studio with the neon sign reading "Night's Brothers". As soon as she entered she saw Amren at the counter and the girl gave her a confused and worried look.

"What on earth happened to you girl? You look like the joker, god." Nesta started laughing, as she couldn't help but smile. Amren seemed to shiver at the sound, "No, seriously-" then she added under her voice, "-are you under the effect of any acid?"

"No, you idiot." Nesta chuckled as she sat on the welcome couch, crossing her legs. "I've been promoted," she said quietly, unable to keep the emotion in her voice.

Amren opened her mouth wide, getting up and going to settle down next to her friend. "Are you serious?" Nesta nodded, almost squeaking. "It was about time they realized your talent and acted on it." They exchanged a quick hug and then Nesta asked her how much more Cassian had. She couldn't wait to tell him.

" He should be done in half an hour with the client and then he has a couple of girls for piercings so I don't know how much longer he's going to be." Amren explained to her, getting up to check their calendar. Nesta puffed, making a grimace and interrupting her joyful motion that had been going on for hours now.

She sighed, getting up in turn and heading for the exit, " Alright, could you tell him that I'm already at home and that I'll be waiting for him at 8:30, please? Amren nodded, waving goodbye, and then Nesta walked to the right just to stop me two doors away from the tattoo studio.

Cassian and Rhysand had moved into that apartment right after high school and when Rhysand had moved out, going to live with the Archeron sisters to spend more time with Feyre, Nesta couldn't stand the constant nocturnal make-out sessions and exasperated she had asked Cassian if he could host her until she found a place to stay on her own. How Elain managed to survive in that house for another four months was still a mystery to the elder sister.

After a few weeks of living together, Nesta had discovered that Cassian was one of the neatest and organized people she had ever met. He never brought girls home when she was around and respected her personal space, something completely unknown to Nesta, who had only ever lived with her sisters. They had bonded so much and became best friends in a very short time. Not that they had a bad relationship before, but now it was much stronger. When after two months Cassian had asked her how much longer she was planning to stay, she had panicked, thinking that he had grown tired of having her around, and had told him that she had found a place not too far from her office and that she would be leaving soon. Of course, it was all lies, but Nesta will never forget the hurt and sad expression that had overwhelmed Cassian. After two days she had been forced to tell him the truth, regretting having done such a thing for no reason, and had never seen the boy so happy as when she had told him she would have to stay for at least another month. Cassian had hugged her and spun her around in the air, thrilled by the news, and told her that she could stay for the rest of her life if she wanted to. Nesta had started laughing and then Cassian with her and in one way or another, they had ended up kissing.

The rest is history.

She set foot in their apartment and let go of an excited laugh.

She would finally work on her own and could finally translate the books she wanted and approve the projects she preferred and not just reread drafts on drafts on drafts every day. She took off her shoes and pulled her bra off her blouse, unbuttoning her pants and letting her hair fall on her shoulders in a hairstyle that didn't pull her head.

She turned on the TV, put on a music channel and began to dance, singing whatever song passed by. She came into the kitchen shaking and shouting the chorus of the brand new song of a band whose name she couldn't remember. She took a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.

"A toast to myself." She whispered, raising her glass, "You did it."

She went wild for a little while longer and after the second glass, she decided that it was better to go shower and be prepared for when Cassian would return.

***

She had just got out of the tub when she heard the door close a bit abruptly. She looked at the clock on the sink cabinet and saw that it was eight o'clock. Making a small grimace, she realized that she had taken a bath for an hour. She heard Cassian calling her name and didn't have time to open the bathroom door, which opened wide, making her take two steps back.

Cassian grabbed her wrist, stabilizing her, "Sorry, I didn't think you were in here."

Nesta shook her head and was about to jump on his neck when she saw he had a wrinkled expression. She placed one hand on his arm, holding the towel around her with the other, " Everything's okay?"Cassian sighed and closed his eyes. "One of the last two clients seemed to be a bit too comfortable, it bothered me a lot."

Nesta nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about. It wasn't the first time one of the boys' clients had taken advantage of the situation - probably getting pierced in intimate places - and made her husband uncomfortable. Fortunately, this hardly ever happened, but there were always those few exceptions, and once a year he would find special clients.

Nesta approached Cassian, moving her hand from his shoulder to his cheek and stood on her toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cassian wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her, running his tongue over her lower lip. Nesta moaned slowly and broke away, smiling still holding him.

"What are you smiling about?" Cassian asked, kissing her on the nose and pulling away shortly afterward to start undressing. Nesta leaned against the door jamb, holding the towel to her chest and admiring the sight. Nesta shook her head still incredulous after all these years that the man in front of her was her husband. "So?" he insisted once he entered the bathtub.

"They promoted me." she said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Cassian, who was washing his hair, stopped and looked at her with his mouth open before a bright smile took over his face. He got out of the tub, dripping water everywhere, and took her by her waist, lifting her up and letting the towel slide off her.

"I can't believe it," he said to her laughing, looking at her face with eyes shining with emotion, "God, I'm so proud of you," he snickered and put her down, pushing her towards him once more and kissing her deeply. Nesta laughed in the kiss and Cassian was forced to pull away.

He put his hand behind the back of her neck and pulled her to him, causing their lips to collide again and again and again until both were panting and Cassian's hand that was not busy holding Nesta close to him had found its way to her fine side and now he was holding her tight enough to make the girl moan.

At Nesta's cry Cassian pulled away slightly, pushing his forehead against hers to catch his breath. The water was still flowing behind him and when he stepped back to get into the tub, he pulled her with him. Her bare chest collided with his and they both held their breath as they touched.

Nesta gasped and shook her head, detaching herself from him and interrupting whatever they were about to do. "I've just washed, I can't take a shower again. And you should hurry because I made a reservation at our restaurant and we should be there in twenty minutes." she smiled at Cassian, who was still breathing frantically and held his hand on her waist, too close to her breast. She looked at him from under her eyelashes, letting him understand that they couldn't waste any more time, even though his thumb was now caressing her right breast and she was shivering at the thought of what those hands could do in other places.

Cassian had to clear his throat before speaking, "You're telling me I have to take care of this-" he pointed to his evident length with a movement of his chin, "-alone?" his voice was still hoarse. His eyes darkened as they quickly scanned her naked body. When he looked at her face again, her throat dried up and Nesta swallowed loudly, every trace of fun disappeared.

Nesta approached him with her gaze fixed on his lips and Cassian smiled slyly. She pointed a finger to his chest, sliding it down, towards his abs and then to his hips, reaching the base of his clear excitement. Cassian pushed his hips forward, trying to get touched where he most wanted, but Nesta grinned and walked away, giving him her back. His hand slipped away from her skin and Nesta immediately missed that touch.

She came out of the bathroom swinging her hips, while Cassian mumbled "You fucking tease."

Nesta chuckled, stepped back and stood by the bathroom door and said, "If you can wait till tonight, I'll show you just how much of a tease I can be." and then she winked at him.

He heard Cassian grunting in frustration as he put on the black lace panties he had given her a few months earlier, the ones she knew for sure would drive him crazy.

Oh yes, they would have so much fun that night.

acotar tag list (if you want to be added just let me know in the comments or sending an ask:))

@tottenhamboys20

[periminkle]

Orphic | 01

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 7.3k (includes slightly edited version of preview!)

rating: PG-15

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, scuffle, not nice people >:(

author’s note: the first chap! thanks so much for all the love for the preview and pls let me know if you enjoyed it bc i have even more of a praise kink than our king jimin :) i don’t wanna know if u hated it lmao get outta herE

→ previous | next

“Almost there... And... Done!”

I heaved the last of the sturdy boxes into the narrow doorway, pride bubbling at my unexpected strength. Droplets of salty perspiration were beginning to form at my temples and became increasingly uncomfortable the longer I stood there. 

But, with a litter of obnoxiously brown boxes blocking the route into my recently purchased home, I had no way of setting foot past the minimal space by the doorway. “Shit.”

Spontaneously deciding that enough energy had been exerted for the day, evident by the shroud of darkness out the expansive windows, a few steps took me back out the front door. I followed the chipped white timber of the sides of my house, heading towards the back entrance.

Even though the plot was relatively large in size, the cottage built upon the land was minuscule; a single floor encompassing a kitchen, living room, hallway, bedroom and bathroom. 

With that being said, the rest of the expanse was mine to revel in and admire. Hence the lack of fence encompassing my area, seeing as the forest bled its way into my recently mowed lawn anyhow.

The bulk of the towering woodland was hidden in a blanket of obscurity, brought about by the later hours that subtly induced unease. Those late night horror movie marathons only worsened the unrest in my mind. 

I tried to dispel the disquietude with thoughts of the methodic chirping, courtesy of the tiny orchestra of crickets that seemed to be scattered in every which direction. The smell of the damp earth invaded my senses and relaxed my shoulders a fraction.

Albeit, the crunch of dead leaves being trampled under a heavy weight belonging to an unknown being unsettled me enough to break into a scurry along my wooden porch. 

With a slight shiver slipping down my spine, I shook any solicitude off and slid open the unlocked door. I was greeted by the cool air conditioning of the indoors, as well as a telltale grumble from my own drained form.

I preheated a batch of leftovers that I’d thankfully packed from my family’s house, foreseeing how debilitating the move would be. Without regard to the lamentable furniture surrounding me, I plonked down on a creaky seat and felt my depleted energy stored slowly being refilled with each bite.

Even though my furnishings and house were humble, regret had no place in my mind for the difficult decision I’d made to pack up and leave my childhood home. Over there, the lights never flickered and scuffled furniture simply didn’t exist, with even the moldings on the walls lacking even a speck of dust.

But I witnessed, lived, through the monstrosities that lay beyond all those superficial aspects. The suffocating nature, not in the air that circulated around the place, but in the individuals with no respect for one another. My tolerance thinned over the years and I’d left the second I could.

Living in a secluded area of my tiny town had its own perks for my antisocial self — one of which being an absurd amount of land for a relatively cheap price — but the appeal of living in a bustling city wasn’t lost on me. 

For reasons excluding my relatives, I was simply tired of having lived in a city my whole life and desired some form of change, meeting new mindsets and developing my own.

Before I’d even properly settled in, I’d been convinced that moving out here had been a brilliant decision. Saving up for a couple years to be able to rent out a cozy cottage with a stunning forest as my backyard was turning out to be my haven.

Albeit, the pesky bugs were certainly not a part of that bliss.

I detached myself from the distant thoughts about my life hundreds of miles away and focused on the scenery across from me, better able to observe the breathtaking quality of the tenebrous forest from the safety of my new home. The sylvan scent penetrated my home, having closed only the window screen behind me when I entered.

Hearing the weak mewl of some kind of feline peaked my curiosity, wondering if a neighbour’s cat had taken a long journey and gotten themselves lost. I picked up the slow movement slinking among the bramble that connected my backyard to the thick timberland. 

The light from my lamps only extended so far and unluckily, I was unable to properly identify the animal staggering towards my back porch. My heart ached, thinking that this poor animal must be starving and in need of help. 

An apparent limp in its movements tugged at the last of my heartstrings. My fridge was stocked full, being one of my top priorities when I moved in; so food wasn’t a problem right now. Deciding it would be nice to make a new friend, I gathered my own bowl and headed outside.

The sliding of the window screen startled the pitiful creature, making a hasty retreat in the form of a hobble to find refuge in the foliage, hiding and waiting for my next move. I let out a small smile, hoping to appear as friendly as possible as I slowly stepped out into the chilly night air once again. 

“Hey buddy, what’re you doing out here?” I crouched down and laid the bowl on the floor. “It’s kinda cold out, hm?”

Not even the twitch of a leaf.

“Are you hungry?” 

I was met once again with no reaction. Deflated yet understanding in the lack of trust, I pushed myself back up, grabbing the bowl. As I stepped towards the door though, I heard it again.

Mew.

With a quiet giggle, I turned back, winked at the still-hidden creature and stepped inside, sliding the door closed. The night was silent, save for the trill of the crickets reaching their own encore for the night when the door abruptly opened once again.

“You like tuna, bud?” A smaller plate with canned tuna, out of the can but still in its cylindrical shape was placed on the last step of the porch. “Thought you might like that more than leftovers, huh?”

Although the same lack of response took place, I wasn’t deterred this time, smiling one last time into the darkness. “Enjoy it, but not too much okay? Go back to your owner’s house after this.” I let a shiver run through my body from the cold nipping my bare skin before ambling back inside to finish off my own dinner.

Despite my words, I did hope the kitty would come visit again.

I felt yet another ache pulse through my stiff back. The absence of a proper bed to sleep in at night was duly noted and the task of assembling my bed frame was bumped up higher on my to-do list for the day. Another night of cuddling up on the freezing, rigid floor with only a flimsy sheet to cushion my restless body might strip a decade out of my life expectancy.

A feeble attempt to flatten out my wrinkled button up — that I painstakingly ironed the day before — proved as fruitless as the dozen other times I tried smoothing it out just this morning. I brushed the imaginary dust off my modest pencil skirt while I was at it, resigning to my rumpled fate.

Groaning, I swiftly nabbed a granola bar and a pre-made sandwich I’d filled with tuna, inspired by the incident with the hidden feline last night. Despite the gruelling urge within me to check for possible remainders on the porch step, the blinking light from the oven clock pushed me down the slender hall and back to my barricaded doorway,

I squawked in recollection, pushing at the hefty boxes in a flurry. Eventually, I created a tunnel which I crawled through, slipping some sneakers on before stumbling out to the bus stop. When I recalled that the closest stop was a five minute walk, time being a luxury I couldn’t afford right now, I broke into a sprint.

With heaving lungs, I reached the little blue shelter just as the bulky vehicle rounded the corner. A few steps, the tap of a card, the beep of the completed transaction, and a huff brought me on to an austere seat. 

The same shade of prosaic blue within the bus itself led my eyes to the view beyond the dirty windows, marvelling at the vibrant greens and bright earthy tones that blocked any view of the sky. 

Fifteen minutes condensed into seconds, my mind racing with the new possibilities and experiences this town would bring me. Even the prospect of the shy kitty returning again tonight prompted a brief smile.

Dismounting from the stifling vehicle, I took a moment to adjust to the blinding white shade of the laboratory; I pursed my lips in determination. Hoping to appear graceful with long strides, I made my way to the entrance, pulling open the heavy door with a click. A receptionist came into view. 

She could barely be seen over the lengthy, curved desk, only the top of her coiffed strands on the crown of her head peaking through. As I approached, I took in her excessively teased hair and big brown eyes, accented with thick, black liner. 

Clasping both hands together in a bundle of chilly nerves, I patiently waited for the tapping of the keyboard to cease before she turned one heavily shadowed lid towards me. “Hello, welcome to the Test Centre of Enriched Mutagens, how can I help you today?”

Only slightly intimidated, I fumbled with my fingers out of sight. “Uh, hi there. I recently got hired as a lab attendant here.” Cursing my distinctly timid tone I continued, “I was instructed to ask for a Kim Seokjin?”

A stiff nod and more typing was my only reply. Orbs remaining trained on the monitor in front of her as the lady picked up the receiver, punched some numbers in a rapid succession, then situated the phone between her right shoulder and ear. The fervent tapping continued.

I wondered what she was typing up that was so important.

“Yes, she’s here director,” she quipped. My gaze lodged itself onto her name tag, framed by her strawberry blonde locks. Bae Eunmi. “Of course, I’ll send her up.”

The receiver clicked in place as she nodded her head towards the left. After a couple seconds passed with no further acknowledgement, I became increasingly aware that the short interaction was all I was going to get out of the curt woman, trekking over to the elevator she had indicated earlier.

With only two floors to the laboratory, the trip wasn’t long enough to grant me time to compose myself from the abrupt conversation I experienced before I was met with a long hallway, ending with a sturdy door that had a slit above the bulky handle for a keycard.

Seeing as I had not received any sort of card, I peered around at the nameplates drilled beside the other wooden doors. This floor ominously had no windows, a dingy, low lamp the only source of light that allowed me to decipher the engravings.

I passed a few flashy titles before I reached Assistant Director Kim Seokjin.

With a deceivingly confident knock and a shaky inhale I picked up a faint, “come in.”

A rather spacious office was revealed as I pulled open the heavy wood — shelves filled with packed binders, loose papers scattered across the desk with a thin monitor practically concealed under neon coloured sticky notes. Even the two chairs tucked away in the corner had a teetering stack of paperwork on each seat.

I took a step inside the chaotic space and bowed to the man whose sunken eyes flickered to my own. “Hi, sorry to disturb you. My name is Y/N and we talked on the phone last week. I’m the new research attendant.”

He flashed me a kind smile through his exhaustion, his evidently dull features proof of a long night. Considering the sheer amount of paper work in his office, I wasn’t sure a good night’s rest was ever on this man’s schedule.

“Ah, yes, you came down from the city, correct?” I nodded in confirmation, glad he remembered our previous conversation. “My apologies that the director couldn’t meet you himself, but you’ll get to see my handsome face instead,” he chuckled, sounding faintly similar to a windshield wiper. “I’m Kim Seokjin, the assistant director, but you can just call me Jin, everyone here does.”

I felt my tense body slacken at his warmth and bright disposition despite his arduous workload. Unconsciously, I suspected the whole staff may be terse and unwelcoming, though I was thankful that I was pleasantly mistaken. In my comfort, a chortle escaped my lips. “Alright then, Jin, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Of course it is,” he exclaimed with a jesting harrumph. “So, how are you liking this lonely town so far?”

Taking a few steps closer I responded honestly. “Even though the loneliness hasn’t hit me yet, I feel like I can finally breathe here. The city was a bit much sometimes.”

Humming in an understanding tone, I watched him rise from his plush chair, plucking one of the many binders out of the shelf and placing it on top of the mountain of papers on his desk. “That’s a good mentality, you know? I hope you can always find the silver lining in any situation you’re thrown into.”

Jin grips one of the many contracts laid within and slides it over to me with a pen. “Sign each highlight please.”

As I read over all the nitty gritty details, the man across from me continued, “I really hope you can be as resilient as we need you to be, Y/N. I know it’s tough work, but I just have a good feeling about you.”

Not paying much mind to Jin’s ramblings I easily agreed and handed the completed contract back.

“Well, come on then, I’ll introduce you to the people you’ll be working with.”

I accompanied Jin back out his office and down the hall, past yet another sturdy wooden door. The strong, pungent scent of coffee assaulted my nose, confirming the new space I’d entered was the break room; two male employees lounging around and sipping on their steaming mugs. 

“You finally came out of that office Jin?” A tall man leaning against one of the tables called out first, grinning with his dimples on full display. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, well, it seems like I’m the only one doing work around here anymore.” He jested, a playful smirk attached to his handsome visage.

“You can’t blame us, you know Hyunho and Minzi would never let us breathe the same air as their ‘confidential project.’ Wouldn’t want our ‘inexperienced hands’ ruining the whole thing.” The other man in the room rolled his eyes, taking another sip of the bitter liquid in his cup. 

“We’re not getting into this again, you two.” Seokjin gave a stern look, any lighthearted air in the room dissipating along with his remark. He glanced back at me, nudging me forward with a tap to my shoulder. “This is the new lab attendant, Y/N.”

Although the sharp-eyed man spared a sympathetic glance my way he backfired with, “yeah, the third one this month.” 

“Yoongi, I said that’s enough.” Although Seokjin’s words were strict and clipped, the palm rubbing over his face displayed his fatigue.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t even have access to the files, I mean we are researchers too, this is complete bullshi—”

“Y/N, I’ll be heading back to my office to finish up some paperwork, alright? These two can show you ropes.” The assistant director turned in my direction, the corners of his lips twitching upwards ever so slightly before trudging back to his office.

The shorter man slammed his mug down on the shabby table with a low, “goddamnit.”

“Honestly, I think this little guy is the best part of the whole place.” The dimpled man who had introduced himself as Kim Namjoon flashed his dimples, attempting to overcompensate for his gloomy partner, Min Yoongi. 

The two had been working as lab assistants here for a few years now and despite the seniority, Namjoon insisted on maintaining a first name basis with both him and Yoongi. He also offered a tour, which I graciously accepted.

“A jaguar?”

“A baby jaguar.” The sprawled sleeping form of a pitch black feline met my eyes. “He was brought in about three months ago. His name is Taemin.” I carefully approached the cage, maintaining a safe distance as a general precaution despite his lack of consciousness. 

Rather than providing comfort, I found that the muzzle locked around his jaws unsettled me further, which I found oddly paradoxical. I guess my designated tour guide picked up on my discomfort when he voiced, “he’s docile enough to us, but if Hyunho or any of his lackeys come by, he can get real aggressive.”

This was the second time that name popped up into the conversation and I quelled my blazing curiosity, dispelling any urges to question Namjoon about the mysterious figure. With the negative context his name was brought up with and the dark, brooding look Yoongi wore, I decided it was best not to prod, for my own sake as well.

I was brought back to reality when the animal in front of me shifted slightly. Despite my reluctancy to become attached, I couldn’t help but coo when a stretch wracked his small form, turning over in his sleep. 

Although I had done my share of research into this laboratory before applying to the position and was cognizant that they didn’t harm any of their subjects — I knew Taemin’s life wasn’t in any danger, but he would be gone once all his testing was complete. I refused to get too emotionally attached in order to avoid future heartache.

 I noticed his head cuddling deeper into his plush bed and knew my plan was futile. “You think he would like me?”

Namjoon let out a hum in thought, “I’m not too sure. You can try petting him if you want, just make sure to let him sniff you first.”

Slowly unlocking the cage, I extended my hand towards the muzzle, waiting with bated breath. The still sleeping animal brought up its head and placed his cheek in my cupped hand, letting loose a faint purr that I felt traveling up my palm. I stroked the edge of his jaw that wasn’t covered by the muzzle.

Oh no.

It was too late, Taemin owned every inch of my heart.

Gently placing his head back down onto his fluffy bed, my hand made a swift retreat as I flicked the lock back in place. I hoped I would be able to see more of the baby in the future.

Standing back up to face Namjoon I reluctantly tore my gaze away from the angel behind bars. Pondering when we would head to the second floor after having examined every speck of dust in the first floor, I voiced my thoughts to the lanky man. “So, are we heading back up now?” 

A sigh met my ears and I turned to look at the brooding culprit who hadn’t opened his mouth since the tense interaction with Seokjin, simply tagging along the tour that Namjoon narrated. “We can’t introduce you to anything you haven’t already seen upstairs.” When he met my confused orbs he continued, “we can only enter the break room and Jin’s office up there, everything else is off limits.”

“Oh, um... I don’t mean to sound rude, especially since this is my first day and everything, but the equipment down here seem pretty... Insufficient for quality resear-” I stuttered out my concerns.

“Don’t you think we know that? Why do you think we go through lab attendants so quickly? Nobody wants to stay in a place that doesn’t have the proper equipment to perform any kind of substantial research. Not to mention neither of the head researchers trust us enough to even look at the stupid files.”

Namjoon piped in, probably sensing how heated the other man was getting. “We mainly just note the patterns in the bases of a variety of animals’ DNA that involve certain genes.”

“Not to say that’s not effective research, but scientists with your qualifications usually investigate more ground-breaking subjects.” I became a bit dejected at my own future here; I applied for a job here to further my ambitions, knowing this lab was well-known for its high quality studies.

Would I be forced to move back to the city? I couldn’t tuck tail and scutter home after all the effort and money I expended on this move, not to mention the disastrous situation I would be faced with if I returned now. No, I was desperate to find a reason to stick it out. “Why do you two stay here then? Why not just find another lab?”

“It wasn’t always like this, Y/N. It’s been over half a year now since the new management came in and basically brought in a whole new set of personnel with them. They took all the most expensive equipment upstairs and sealed it behind a locked door.”

“They even replaced the damned cleaning staff.” Yoongi scoffed out, painstakingly fed up with the circumstances.

Namjoon crossed his arms, giving a warning look over to man with bleached locks, probably in order to keep his anger from bleeding through for the second time today. “They were adamant about keeping Jin and he let us stick around, couldn’t leave this lab in the hands of complete strangers.”

“But why—”

My wrist was suddenly enclosed in Yoongi’s long, thin fingers, dragging me into the assistant researcher’s office they had familiarized me with half an hour ago. I saw Namjoon glance around before entering in after us and closing the door behind him.

Yoongi released his grip on me, leaning in close and hissing out, “it’s all some cryptic confidentiality bullshit. They’re doing something up there, something revolutionary, something dangerous, and they only trust their own people to keep quiet.” 

With a hum, slightly intimidated, I questioned, “okay, but why did they evacuate the whole place, why not just build another lab and—”

Namjoon leant against the door, lowering his voice as well. “This is a remote town, there won’t be many people to question and investigate what they’re studying all the way out here.” 

With many overwhelming thoughts raging, the locked door upstairs abruptly came to mind. “You don’t have the keycard either, I’m guessing.”

“You pick things up pretty quick, huh?”

After the draining events at work, I felt no motivation to peel off my thoroughly wrinkled items of clothing, having switched out of the lab clothes in the changing room back at work. 

Rather than a physical enervation, the realization that my expectations to further my own studies was not a reality here sapped me of any incentive to unpack or do anything of value.

The temptation of warm pyjamas encasing my shivering body as I slept another night on the hard surface of the floor was almost reason enough to conjure up some hidden energy from the deepest recesses of my body. 

I crawled my way though the makeshift hole I made earlier in the day through two of the boxes. Thankfully, no roommates meant that the house was absent of another being to pester me regarding the hassle I made at the entrance, though I thought it was quite clever considering my circumstances.

The sun had set many hours back, which I failed to detect as all my concentration was set on marking down the base sequence that brought about Taemin’s black fur colour. Jin was double-checking the state of each room before locking up for the night when he discovered my form, hunched over a microscope. 

Continuing to the kitchen on hands and knees out of my present shortage in strength, I nearly decided to call it a night right there in the middle of the hallway. Though, I settled with briskly whipping up an egg or two in hopes that it would replenish enough energy to tidy up a bit before retiring to bed. 

I left the eggs to cook as I departed, off to locate a plate, which I only had two of at the moment, courtesy of the unloading that needed to be completed at the doorway. A glimpse into the sink revealed the location of one suspect, dirty from yesterday’s dinner.

I tugged open the nearest cabinet to search for the other one because I sure as hell was not washing any dishes right now. But, instead of the ceramic I was expecting, the bare walls of the storage area stumped me.

The memory of the creature I’d met yesterday flashed through my mind, bringing about a sudden burst of excitement that had me shuffling my way to the backyard door, flicking the porch light on and staring at the wood that seemed to glare back at me. 

No sight of the tuna or the plate. 

Initially, I took extreme offence to the absurd situation. I graciously extended a helping hand to a vulnerable cat to enjoy some savoury tuna and the bugger decided to steal—

Wait.

How in the hell did the thumbless feline pick up the hefty plate in the first place?

After snooping around the surrounding area a bit, no sight of the pristine plate, I gave up. Maybe it held the ceramic in its mouth?

The mental image I’d conjured up brought a slight chuckle out of me, cutting short when catching sight of several crimson paw prints on the porch, accompanied by specks of the same hue. I pondered the unusually large size of the print, slightly larger than my palm. 

An alarmingly large quantity of blood appeared with each step, the pace of my heart quickening with worry both for myself and the creature. Who could harm a massive animal like this and for what purpose?

I also thought about if the splotches would wash out with the rain or if I had to slot in a time to come out and clean off the marks. Although, the cleaning supplies were also in those unpacked boxes, so any stain removal had to be put on hold.

The bloody prints extended into my lawn as well, blades of grass covered in a layer of red. From what I could make out, the trail was U-shaped, beginning from the forest, coming to where I stood at the porch, then heading back.

A spike of fear travelled through me when a thicket shook violently. Were these stains left by the kitty I encountered the day before? From my limited knowledge in zoology, I doubted that large cats could even produce such pathetic mewls with their vocal chords, which were better suited to growl or roar. 

But what was a creature of this size doing on the outskirts of civilization? I wasn’t too sure about how far the woodlands extended past my yard, but I was relatively certain that the bulkier predators had more than enough space to themselves without needing to expand their territory.

I was in the midst of this back-and-forth conflict with myself when I heard a familiar cry reaching my ears. Pushing back my raucous thoughts for a moment, I settled on responding to little thief.

“You’re back! Do you happen to have my plate by any chance?”

The lack of response confirmed my suspicions. I was now down to one, currently grubby plate in the house.

“Alright, fine, keep the damn thing.” The initial fear and suspicion I felt had simmered down quite bit, heavily due to the lack of aggression on the animal’s part and a distinct fondness I held for my first friend here that I wasn’t aware of yet. Though, I remained on guard, as there could always be another beast lurking.

In order to discover any of answers I was seeking, I knew that I had to take matters into my own hands and decipher whether my pitiful kitty was actually a large, ferocious feline— badly hurt, nonetheless. I took the portable first-aid kit out of my bag as well as the forgotten, squished tuna sandwich.

Removing the saran wrap and crumpling it into a ball, I placed the much-smaller-than-I-remember sandwich down on the wood as bait. “Guess we can’t be civil, huh bub? If you’re gonna steal my plate, have the courage to show yourself, you criminal," I teased and hoped to lure the cautious creature out. 

Nothing.

“Hey, you wanna come and let me get a look at you? I can see if I can patch you up, how about that?”

Nope.

“Come on, look! You’re favourite tuna, in a delicious sandwich now!”

Nada.

I pouted at the bundle of leaves I knew the feline was hiding under, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction. Albeit, any sliver of hope was crushed with the lack of movement. Worry grew at the back of my mind, desperately hoping that the creature could live through their seemingly dire injuries. I flashed a regretful smile and lowered the sandwich on the last step. 

At the very least, I wished that the snack would provide energy for its body to repair itself. With one last glance at the silent underbrush, I turned my back and lumbered into the confines of my cottage. Hopefully, I would get another chance to beckon the mammal out of its hiding place tomorrow.

The contrast of the dark droplets of blood against the light wood of my porch disturbed me more than I’d like to admit.

The daily routine of travelling to work, interacting with the few friends I made there and coming back home to attend late night meetings with my concealed kitty was growing on me. I was elated that I finally found a group of my own people, and not-quite-people, to converse and share thoughts with. 

However, this town also seemed to have its own fair share of rotten apples.

I finally met the rumoured Lee Hyunho, a bulky man who introduced himself as one of the two head researchers. He seemed polite enough at first, but I detected the same brusque characteristic I noticed in the receptionist from my first day. 

It appeared that all the staff brought in by the “new” management had this particular quality. 

My own frustrations began to grow alongside Namjoon and Yoongi, constantly repeating the same tasks over and over again, day after day. When I tried to confront the other head researcher, Joo Minzi, about granting us more access to the studies they were conducting, she made it very clear that my “inexperienced hands” were not permitted to touch any of their files, test subjects or even approach the lab upstairs.

Charming, really.

The interaction left me fuming, much to Namjoon’s amusement, claiming that he now had two fiery beasts to quell. My interactions with the arrogant staff members were limited though, and bouncing between Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin, and the surprisingly amicable janitor made the work days bearable. 

I also took immense pleasure in going against Minzi’s words by playing with Taemin every once in a while.

I was proud to announce my accomplishment in finally unloading all of the supplies within my many boxes to anyone that would listen, now able to revel in the tidiness of my living space. The guys were able to visit now too, previously refusing to crawl through my rather unique entryway.

Progress concerning my kitty was little to none, but I did discover that it was immensely therapeutic to relay my worries to the mammal, finding comfort in its presence.

I took the rustling of the leaves as acknowledgement for my exasperated tone. “I mean, I don’t even feel like a researcher there! It’s all ‘hey newbie, go get me a coffee,’ ‘this is classified, no touching,’ ‘you can’t participate, this isn’t a charity,’ blah, blah, blah...” I raised my tone and ended my rant with a pout, embodying the childish behaviour that encompassed how I felt I was being treated as of late.

“Remember the really cute janitor I was telling you about? Jung Hoseok? Well, he was telling me about some stuff he heard when he was cleaning the lab upstairs.” I heard a short swish of foliage being disrupted, which I assumed was a result of the creature tilting its head.

“Apparently, they’d made big advancements on whatever stupid ‘highly confidential’ project they’re working on. It definitely has something to do with the patterns in different animals’ DNA, but I can’t pinpoint exactly what they’re trying to accomplish...

“And guess what? Hoseok said he’d overheard that they’d lost a test subject a little over a week ago! There’s probably a mouse scurrying around somewhere, living his best, liberated life right now.” I shifted in place, adjusting my position to make myself more comfortable in the chilly night. “I just wish I knew what was going on, you know...”

“I wanted to prove them all wrong.” I sneaked a glimpse at the forest for any indication of a vocal response I knew the creature gave occasionally. In a small voice I added, “but maybe they were right.”

Another shuffle broke through my lengthy monologue and I facetiously grinned towards the camouflaged animal. “Y’know, I’m starting to really question whether you’re here for my company or for this,” I pointed to the tuna, disturbingly still in that short cylindrical shape. 

I stared past the obscure stalks of the trees, having found consolation and tranquility in the space a few days prior, even from beyond my glass door. My initial apprehension of unknown monsters subsided and it was reassuring to know that my kitty was somewhere in there as well.

Another shuffle revealed a pair of bright, beady eyes meeting my own enlarged ones. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest by the sudden appearance, although I tried not to alarm the creature back into hiding by revealing my own trepidation. 

Knowing the keen senses felines had, there was little doubt in my mind that the one across from me wouldn’t be able to pick up my instantaneous change in demeanour.

“You gonna come and get it or what?” With a slight nod towards the meal, I cursed the slight quiver in my voice and prayed that the creature felt comfortable enough to reveal more of itself to me. My curiosity was bubbling as I allowed my gaze to travel to the crown of its head. 

I concluded that the creature’s fur was either pure black or another dark tone, hard to decipher when I didn’t have the enhanced night vision of the mammal perched a few metres away. Said feline made no further movements, keeping his gaze trained on me. 

I analyzed the elongated slits that served as pupils, engraving the rich green shade of its irises into my mind, fearful that this sudden intimacy may scare the mammal off, never to be seen again. But, I found myself unable to divert my gaze, feeling as though I was staring at a physical manifestation of the pure soul of the forest.

It was utterly mesmerizing.

An impatient gruff left the creature’s mouth, snapping me out of my reverie and I resigned. “Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m leaving alright?”

Maybe one day the mammal would feel comfortable enough to eat in front of me and I could migrate my dinners to the porch outside. Refusing to get too greedy, I reminded myself that the baby steps taken today were infinitely better than none at all.

With one foot in my house, I turned back to the tantalizing eyes, still focused on my pyjama-clad form as I beamed back gratefully. “’Night bud.”

The snapping of the lock clicking back into place alleviated some of the soreness of my overworked muscles as I took another step inside. My head fell back to sneak a glance at the ceiling, hoping to peek past the old plaster and stare into the eyes of any higher being out there.

I quickly considered whether to thank them for this opportunity of a lifetime or to curse them out for my seemingly limitless workload.

As my eyelids slid close in defeat, an exhausted sigh involuntarily slipped out into the silence. Kicking off my shoes into the pitiful pile by the doorway to join the rest of its brethren, I wandered deeper into my rather small abode in the darkness; only my padded footsteps and the zipper of my jacket being undone 

Hearing my stomach rumble with its complaints, I made the couple steps toward the kitchen’s light switch. But, an abrupt halt came with the memory of yesterday’s optimistic plan of embarking on a trip to the grocery store after a short work shift.

Evidently, I hadn’t predicted the gruelling day I would have nor the extra hours that would be requested of me. I found that I’d been frequenting the store quite often as of late, the demand of food increasing once another mouth to feed came into question.

In a reluctant fashion, I pulled my jacket back up to my shoulders, knowing that the fridge was just as empty as my stomach currently was. I pushed my aching limbs back towards the entrance, pondering over whether the grocery store was even open this late in the night.

However, I was forced to a grinding halt once again as I heard a booming thump from my backyard and my blood ran cold.

I waited with bated breath as my heart rate elevated, pounding in my ears. A minute of stillness passed before yet another sigh escaped my jittery body. Another disadvantage of a remote plot included being frightened by every snap of a twig.

As a scoff passed through my chapped lips at my own cowardly antics, I began to resume my trek to the front door when another thud reached my ears. The recognition of the sound coming from the backyard alerted me that this time may be different, with the presence of an actual threat.

Following a series of gut-wrenching cracking noises, hurried footsteps approaching the wooden porch in my backyard startled me to action.

Hastily, I dashed back to the kitchen to grab an unnecessarily large kitchen knife out of the drawer and flew to cover behind my minuscule island. A quick glimpse down towards my chest revealed my shaking hands. Well, this is certainly one way to spice up my night.

Listening to the intruder fumble with the lock for a little while before it was being smashed into, I knew I couldn’t just stay cowering behind my kitchen island, waiting for this murderer to come and end my night (and all my subsequent nights thereafter). The rage behind having to buy and reinstall a new lock also propelled my need for revenge.

I took in a deep breath and steeled myself as the footsteps wandered in, coming straight towards the kitchen. A loud growl reverberated throughout my house and befuddled me further. Was the intruder simply a feral animal? The lack of a problem with my lock dismissed that thought but I couldn’t shake the feeling of a predator having sneaked into my house.

The feeling of being stalked.

I rapidly shook off that irrational thought, doubtful the stranger even knew of another presence in the house. As the intruder turned the corner — coming straight towards my hiding spot — I reared back a little before launching myself with my dull knife leading the way.

A screech made its way out of my throat as the intruder’s reflexes were evidently a lot better than mine, catching my wrist before I could inflict any damage. But, I refused to give in just yet as I attempted to smash the hard edge of my palm straight into the stranger’s nose in order to buy myself some time to flee.

Unfortunately, for me, that attack never reached its target as the intruder caught my throat in his other hand much faster and used his larger frame to smash my body against the fridge.

The wind escaped me, though I kept squirming to try whip my knee straight to his crotch as a final ditch attempt. I lightly cursed as a glimpse informed me the intruder was a brawny man.

He noticed my struggle and easily flipped me around, one hand finding purchase in my hair, banging my head against the cool metal of the fridge and the other held both of my hands pinned to my back. The knife clattered to the ground in a dangerous arc.

In the middle of wondering how the hell he gathered my wrists and disabled me in a split second, I felt a heavy growl in the shell of my ear. A cold shiver slipped down my spine, adrenaline slowing leaving my body as we both puffed out breaths of exertion.

What the actual fu—

“No hurt, need bandage and go.”

His broken English came out with a slight accent and I found myself nodding instantaneously as I tried to work out what he needed. “Okay, okay,” I muttered as best as I could with half my face smushed, “I have bandages in the big drawer by the sink. You can take those.”

I only received a grunt in acknowledgement. He nudged me with his foot to shuffle backwards with his hand still wrapped around my wrists and led me to the sink. Half curious about his motives and half accepting that I could never overpower the stranger, I followed obediently. Though that didn’t stop me from deliberating over how to outsmart the man.

Deciding on waiting for an opening or a slack in the grip around my wrists, I nodded my head towards the drawer I was referring to earlier and finally peered up at my intruder’s shadowed face. He wore a black ball cap on, aiding in hiding his features which were mostly guarded by the lack of light anyway.

A glance at the lower half of his visage allowed me to witness his pale lips and the small mole directly underneath them, as well as a sharp jawline leading to his exposed neck. Inconspicuously bringing my gaze even lower, I took in his matching tattered black outfit, confirming his bulky build and scuffed sneakers.

Maybe I could run to the nearest police station — which admittedly, was rather far, and provide a detailed description of the criminal. Considering if I made it out alive, of course.

With his vacant hand he swiftly pulled the drawer open, taking handfuls of bandages, gloves, bandaids and other miscellaneous items I crammed in there. The stranger stuffed as much equipment as he could fit into the large pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.

I would have found his full little pouch endearing if I wasn’t preoccupied with worrying over my own well-being.

Another awkward wobble later, we were back at the fridge. At this point, I was gathering all the courage I had left to aim for a pressure point on the criminal’s thigh that I vaguely knew the location of. I should have paid more attention in those self-defence classes, damnit.

Just as I turned to act, he bent down to pick up the discarded knife off the floor, effectively deterring my attack and forcing me into submission. He then turned to me to flash a slight smirk.

“Cute.”

Releasing his death grip on my bound wrists, he sprinted back out my now broken back door, heading off.

After a couple minutes of stewing in my thoughts, back against the cool fridge, I  struggled to comprehend the brief interaction and the dark drops of crimson littered all over my white tiles.

I still have to go grocery shopping.

tags: @aurorakingsley​

[theymakemegayer]

Reputation: Chapter 8

Read chapter 1-7 HERE

a/n: prepare some tissues and hold your heart this was a rollercoaster of emotions!

Warning: Cursing/Profanities

(edit, sorry forgot to tag)

Taglist: @crazzyplays @riptideyun @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @somewillwin @dopeyouth

a short playlist: (kept on playing this while writing this chap)

This Love - Taylor Swift

Heather - Conan Gray

Falling - Harry Styles

Lose - NIKI

*=*=*=*=*=*=*

I woke up feeling like something was stuck on my chest making me numb inside. A huge cloud hang above me and my body refused to move out of the bed. My tears had dried off, while the pain was already engraved in my bones. Zoey barged in my room. I had no energy to master even a smile, I just waved at her. Her eyes were sad. I refused to look at it. Sadness only reminded me of the reality, and reality was I got too close to her despite Zoey's warnings.  I felt my bed dipped as Zoey lay beside me. Her soft eyes drifted on my face. I didn't spoke nor did she. I found calmness in this silence. 

 I felt Zoey moving an arm and wrapped on my waist, "I'm here for you, Bea." She whispered softly, breath tickling on my shoulder.

 I felt my eyes sting, like a dam broke, tears started to linger in my eyes.

 I crinkled my nose and clenched my jaws. I refused to cry. I refuse to embrace the pain I stupidly received for trusting her.

 Bea. Bea.

 I heard her voice in my head. I can still feel her touch. Just one damn night, yet she managed to carved hers into me.

 "Just let it out B," Zoey murmured.

 I seek for warmth. I seek for something - anything to fill the hole she dug in my chest. Zoey offered a shelter in her arms as the rain came pouring. My hand crumpled Zoey's shirt as I let these tears out once again. Maybe letting it out would finally ease the pain. Soothing hands rubbed my back, as the storm continued.

 As I calmed down, I withdrew from Zoey and looked into her eyes. She had a soft smile. It was somehow contagious making me smile even a little.

 "Thanks," I murmured.

 "Anytime," She patted my tear stained cheeks, "Wanna go out today?

 Desperate for distractions, I nodded.

 Later on, we were enjoying some ice cream for desserts in some ice cream parlor we stumbled in the mall. I left my phone at home, so I won't be tempted to look at the comments and to check if she-- never mind that useless thought.

 Zoey was a good help for distraction. Even though I still wasn't sure if my soul was still intact in me. Zoey made me feel good about myself today. Why can't I just have a crush on some normal people instead of--

 "I had to ask Bea," Zoey interrupted my thoughts, a small smile on her lips, "How was last night?"

 I was in the middle of having another scoop of ice cream. Her question made me stop mid air. I put down my spoon stifling a sigh. I wasn't ready for this question.

 "Oh, you know," I shrugged my shoulders, "I helped out humiliating Chloe by feeding Bradley some sugary words. We partied a bit after then I get home."

 Zoey looked at me carefully, "Nothing more happened?"

 I gave her a small smile. It seemed like it was the only smile I can do today. "Nothing," I paused scooping another ice cream, letting the sweetness of it mix with the bitterness of my next words, "I should have look for more dirt about her." My eyes drifted ahead of me, mind starting to get lost with a hundred of thoughts.

 I felt Zoey's warm hand on my arm. I looked at her, just as her eyes softened, "It's alright. We'll look for another way, but for now let's focus on our date."

 I smiled, "That's better."

 *=*=*

 Weekend came and the need to go to classes came too. I tried to act like everything was normal, but it wasn't. The laughter and stares I got wherever I go was like a dagger making my wounds bleed again. I had felt embarrassed before, but being humiliated almost wherever I go? It made me wish I wasn't Bea Hughes. And any site of a blonde hair made me fled immediately. I wasn't ready to see her anytime soon. I don't think I can handle it.

 I was walking towards my dorm room. I just finished my classes. I slowed down with my pace when I spot something in front of the door of my dorm room. 

 Is that a plant? My interest was piqued immediately. A smile immediately tugged on my lips. With all of the things I had been going through this past few days, I can almost feel some of the weight in my chest lifted up. Growing up in a farm, it was like love at first sight when I started helping my father in the farm. I felt a lot more at peace and myself whenever I was surrounded by plants.

 I power walked towards it, still wearing a smile. As I stood in front of it, I realized it was an Apple tree planted on a pot. A white card caught my attention too. It was tied on one of the stem. I plucked out the card and read the short note written.

  Didn't see you around campus today. Bummer. This little gift is for you, Bea. -P

  I scoffed, while my smile faded. How dare she give me gifts after what she did to me? I realized, of course she would do something like this. She would rub it on my face and grin at me, finding joy in knowing I perfectly fell on her trap.

 I crouched as I carry the potted plant inside; despite how I don't want to be reminded of her. A plant was still something close to my heart, so I would take care of this. Besides, this would definitely die if I gave it back to her.

 A week passed. My mind had been filled with self-loathing these past few days. My ‘what ifs’ were also piling up. If I hadn't trusted her... you see another what if. That's why I decided to go for a walk in a nearby park with Beppy - hoping it would lessen the burden I had been carrying.

 I sat on the grass, my back leaning on the tree behind me. It was a calm afternoon. The distant noises coming from the few people on the park were the only noises I can hear.

 I unleashed Beppy letting her run around me for a while. I sighed letting the fresh air fill me up. I held out the squeaky ball toy in front of Beppy. His tail started wagging.

 I giggled, "You want this?"

 His tail wagged furiously mouth ajar. I chuckled, "Fetch Beppy."

 I played with Beppy for a while. I let myself get lost with the bubble of happiness Beppy and I made. His gleaming eyes whenever he gave back the squeaky ball toy lifted a piece of burden from me.

 Moments later after I threw again the ball while Beppy was running back towards me he stopped somewhere not far from me. The ball in his mouth fell as he walked towards the tree or rather to someone. I raised my eyebrow. Who was that?

 "Wha--" Clueless I called for his attention, "Beppy!"

 Instead of looking at me he sat in front of the stranger - which I can't clearly see since the tree was hiding them from my view. I stood up and dusted my sweatpants. I strolled towards them.

 As I was nearing their place I heard a familiar voice, "Beppy where's your mom?"

 I halted in my step with my breath hitching. That voice. My eyes grew wide. I clenched my jaw as I feel my heart dropping to my stomach. Good Lord I am not ready for this. 

 My thoughts swarmed me. My limbs lost its strength to take the next step towards them. Like a joke - a really bad joke, Beppy spotted me and barked as if calling for me.

 I exhaled loudly, with my legs shaking I took my next step towards them.

 As I round the tree I finally spotted her. She was caressing Beppy's head affectionately, a soft smile on her lips. I felt my shoulder and jaw tensed as she looked up and met my eyes.

 "Farmsville." She said nonchalantly, but her eyes mirrored a different story. It was soft - almost yearning? I clenched my jaw as we stared at each other for a while.

 "I was waiting when you will show up," She spoke once again breaking the silence.

 "Are you finished catching up with Beppy? Can I take her now?" I asked in a monotone voice.

 She scoffed, "After you avoided me for a whole week, you're just gonna waltz out like that?"

 I crossed my arms protectively in front of me, "We have nothing to talk about. I don't want to waste my time with you again."

 "Oh so now I am a waste of your time? And did you just say again?!" She exclaimed in a high pitched tone, a frown deeply etched on her face as her eyes narrowed at me.

 "Yes." I spoke. My mask was completely intact not letting her saw any emotion on my face.

 "I don't get you Bea." She sighed suddenly looking... tired? Or was it sadness?

 I scoffed, burying those thoughts, "You really had the nerve to act clueless right now?" I exclaimed exasperated, "Listen to me closely Poppy," I gulped. Saying her name felt like I was burying the knife she planted in my chest deeper, "You won Poppy. You - fucking - won." I said through gritted teeth. "Is this your way of mocking me? Then go on. Laugh at me. I fell in your fucking trap." I hate how my eyes stings as I spitted out my words.

 "I cared for you. I believed in you. I fucking trusted you." I exclaimed quite loudly, a few passerby glancing at us. "And then what did you do?" My eyes started to blur with tears and I started to hate myself more at this moment. I hate looking weak in front of her. "You stabbed me in the back." I inhaled deeply, "Zoey warned me from you, but what did I do? I ignored her. I should have listened instead." Tears were slowly falling now. I wiped it harshly. She just blinked at me, mouth gaping.

 I laughed dryly, "Don't worry Poppy. In the first place, I didn't even want that stupid crown. Just stay away from me. I'll be out of your way and your life."

 I didn't wait for any reply or reaction from her. I walked towards Beppy and scooped him up. His eyes looked sad. I smiled at him despite the few tears that were still falling.

 I kissed his head and murmured, "I'll feel better soon Beppy, hopefully." 

 *=*=*

 It was a weekend. I just walked out from a clothing shop. After that encounter with her, I started to focus more on myself - just doing more of 'me time', and a continuous amount of mental and emotional self-check. I just rounded up a corner when I spotted Veronica. She was probably having another one of her live streams. Our eyes met. In an instant she frowned.

 I tried to ignore her. I continued walking not sparing her another glance. I was just tired of interacting to anyone that was related to her. 

 "Bea! Wait up!" Veronica suddenly called out.

 Sighing I halted with my steps. So much for avoiding any of them. I prepared my mind and emotions internally before I turned around and face Veronica.

 I plastered a smile as she walked up to me.

 "Can we talk?" She said once she was in front of me.

 "We're already talking aren't we?" I bit my tongue. My retort at her had so much bite than I intended.

 She raised an eyebrow. The usual composed Veronica seemed different today, maybe a little pissed off. Probably with the way I talked back at her... oops.

 "It's about Poppy." She said.

 I clenched my jaws, "Of course this is about her. Didn't I tell her to stay away from me already?

 She raised an eyebrow at me, "Okay, clearly I don't know about that specially with how close you both got--"

 I laughed dryly, cutting her off, "You mean her ploy that worked out cause now I'm Belvoir's number 1 clown?"

 "Look I don't know what's Poppy's plan or what's going on with her head, but she seemed weird and different after you two partnered up with that project. At first it was only small and little details I noticed, but--"

 I cut her off again, "Hold on. You're telling me you're actually very observant? I mean no offense, but with the time you spent on your phone I'm surprised."

 She laughed, "Poppy is still my friend, and I care for that bitch."

 "Good for her. I'm already done being mushy with her, so whatever this is you're trying to convince me with? I don't want to hear it." 

 Veronica sighed like her patience was starting to wear thin, "Alright. Just answer this one question then I'll leave you."

 "Fine," I grumbled.

 "What changed Bea? You sound like you really hate her now." Her eyes turned soft, all of a sudden. 

 It irked me. It was already one thing with Poppy backstabbing me and now this?! "Did Poppy send you to mock me on how stupid I was to actually trust her?" I glared at her my anger raging in me.

 She waved her hands frantically in front of her, "No," She shook her head. A sad smile painted on her lips, "So I guess that was your answer huh."

 I clenched my jaws. Stupid Bea. "Nothing changed. I'm just treating her the way I should have from the very start. That's my real answer."

 She was still smiling at me, "To be honest I don't know why I wanted to talk to you about Poppy. Something was really off about her now-a-days, and I felt like you were the reason."

 "Whether I am the reason or not, I don't care. She should deal with it. She brought this upon herself." I said through gritted teeth.

 Veronica looked at me, her eyes sad. I hate it. These past few days, I hate seeing or being reminded of sadness cause deep down my heart was hurting and feeling sad for what she did. 

 "I better leave Bea. Thanks for the talk." 

 I just nodded. She patted my shoulders and smiled at me before turning around and leaving. I sighed. The relaxation I was aiming for this afternoon all gone in a blink of an eye. And now I was left with the bitter pill called reality, that I was having a hard time swallowing. I was still hurting, and the most painful part? I actually missed her. 

 Later that night, I was left alone in the dorm. Zoey had some things to do and would be home late; being cooped up in the dorm alone made me feel like I was drowning with thoughts about her. I felt overwhelmed, that's why I decided to go out to and have dinner to this diner I found near the train station a few days ago. It made me felt nostalgic about my hometown - when everything was okay.

 I tend to miss so many things these past few days. It was like I'm continuously being pulled by my thoughts to different things or places, as well as people, like her. 

 I walked out from the diner. My hair and clothes probably smelled like greasy food for staying a bit too long inside, but my stomach felt full and my mood got better, after that encounter I had with Veronica this afternoon. Speaking of her, my thoughts wandered again towards Poppy. I had been having a hard time from even mentioning her name, for fuck's sake.

 I don't want to fret much about her anymore, but somehow and someway the way Veronica tried to talk to me about her- worry started to crept in me.

 Sometimes I felt like my encounter with her was a joke some mighty divine entity played on me. Just like now, as I was walking along the train station I spot a person sitting on one of the benches. Their beautiful, frilly pink dress would catch anyone's attention, but what really caught my attention was who she was and that she was crying.

 Poppy...

 I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart was pounding in my rib cage, and like bees I hear my thoughts buzzing in my mind - loud and persuasive. As if all the battles in my mind ceased, and a certain answer finally marched in victory, I numbly took my first step towards her. 

 I stood just right in front of her. Her hands were covering her face while her quiet sobs and her shoulders trembling broke her pretence. She wasn't alright and it broke my heart.

 "Poppy...?" I whispered her name. Cold wind breezed past us dishevelling her hair. I shiver at the coldness and so does she. Slowly she lifted her head. The little cracks in me broke more as I stare at her swollen red eyes. 

 A deep frown was etched on her face, "What?" Irritation and annoyance was evident on her voice.

 I gulped thickly, my mouth felt dried all of a sudden, "What are you doing here?" I spoke, my voice crisped - almost unrecognizable even for me.

 "None of your business Hughes," She gritted her teeth and stood up. Her eyes were the same level at me as she stared at me. Like a soft whisper through the quiet night, softness flashed in her eyes quickly. I almost wasn't sure if it was for real, but the way my heart was pounding, shut down all the noises in my head.

 She averted her eyes and I realized she was about to leave. My chest ached once again. My hands reached for her even before I realized what I was doing, holding her wrist gently. "Don't go," I whispered. I noticed how her jaw and shoulders tensed.

 I felt the cracks in me; they were bruised and wounded, by this same person I was asking to stay. I was still hurting, but so does she. And Poppy... she almost never cries.

 Just one last time. One last time that I was going to care for her. One last time I would listen to my heart.

 She turned around and when I met her eyes - her brown teary eyes - my mind finally made up. I would be here for her, one last time.

 Like walls crumbling down, I watched as she crossed the distance between us and hugged me. Her perfume wafted my senses and her warmth filled up the cracks in me. I didn't realize that there were tears streaming down on my face already. I missed her.

 I sniffed quietly. Sadly, I still need to be on my guard no matter how much I was yearning for this. 

 Heavy rain started to pour as she started to cry. Her sobbed were muffled by the rain. Yet I still heard her loud and clear. A sudden urge to shelter her from her own storm on her mind arose to me. I tightened my hug and caressed her head.

 The rain hadn't stopped yet, but her tears started to calm down. She withdrew from me and wiped her tears. Before I can even think what I was doing I reached out and wiped her tears with the sleeves of my jacket.

 She suddenly grimaced, "Eww. Where have you been? Why does your jacket smells like that?"

 I rolled my eyes, "And yet you weren't complaining moments ago. As if you forget you were hugging me a while ago."

 I thought she would retort back just like always, but instead she just pouted. My heart pounded wildly at the cute gesture.

 I sighed trying to mask how she left me flustered. I sat on the bench and patted the space beside me, "Wanna talk about it?"

 She sighed and relented, sitting beside me, leaving minimal space between us. I gulped at her close proximity. A cold breeze past again, she shivered and started rubbing her arms. I took off my jacket and draped it on her.

 She halted and looked at me with wide eyes, before a soft smile painted her lips, "Thanks Bea." She mumbled softly.

 I tried so hard not to get affected, by that simple gesture, but my heart was already melting. I cleared my throat, changing the topic, "So... what happened to you?"

 She avoided eye contact, "Today, my parents finally introduced me as the heiress of my father's business." She looked at up at the cloudy dark sky. The rain was relentless and so does the cold breeze passing by once in a while. 

 "That's a good news right?"

 "It was," I saw a faint smile from her before it dropped, "Until my father started to be his usual self." She chuckled dryly. "I thought I can ignore his words just like I always do, but today was an important day for me. And I failed to impress him, again." 

 There was a pause I waited for her to continue. She inhaled deeply and sighed loudly, "You didn't improve Poppy. You're still a disappointment. That's what he said to me."

 When she looked at me again another batch of tears were streaming down her face. She had a broken smile, "That was bullshit. His business clients and partners were happy to meet me. I should have known he won't be impressed no matter what I did."

 I gulped thickly. I choked with my own emotions raging inside of me. I had never seen her, this broken.

 I smiled softly at her and lay my hand on hers, "I don't believe a single word he said. You always do your best. He's blind if he can't see that."

 "He probably is," She smiled softly albeit a little. "I should be really used by now with how he treats me, but I still get disappointed every damn time." 

 "You know what?" I squeezed her hand in mine, "Screw your dad! Let's do something fun instead." I grinned.

 She raised an eyebrow. An excited gleam in her eyes and a grin on her lips, "What's on your mind?" 

 I looked around us. I think it was twelve midnight already or way passed that, and the rain was still pouring. The train station and its surroundings were pretty much deserted.

 I stood up pulling Poppy with me. I grinned, "Care to dance with me?"

 She huffed out a laugh, "You've gone nuts!" 

 "Probably, but look around us. It's raining and there's no one else around. It's the perfect opportunity to enjoy the rain Poppy!" I exclaimed as the warmth and happiness that I had been missing for the past week came crushing on my insides.

 She laughed - a genuine and soft one. "I am probably going nuts too." She shook her head. Her eyes gleamed and a wide smile was on her lips, "Let's dance Bea!"

 She pulled me out of the shelter of the waiting area of the train station. My jacket falling from her shoulders as we run on the middle of the deserted street. The rain was pouring and it felt cold on my skin, but with Poppy in front of me, laughing and smiling - guiding me into a music free dance, I feel warm.

 She gasped as the rain hit her skin, "It's so cold!" She exclaimed, but the smile on her lips never faltered.

 She pulled me close wrapping her arms around my neck as our foreheads touched. I wrapped my arms around her waist as we swayed. I guess we didn't need music at all when the rain felt like it was serenading us. 

 She giggled as our nose touched. Our wide grins turned into soft smiles. Her breath tickled my lips as she sighed.

 "Bea..." She murmured. 

 It was like an enchantment, all I can hear was my heart screaming for her name. I closed the distance between us and kissed her. My breath hitched.  As if she was the oasis on my dessert. It gave me life. It filled up the cracks inside of me. Her lips moved - claiming me softly. Her hands caressed my nape raising goose bumps in their wake. 

 I gasped for air as I withdrew first, "Poppy..." I murmured.

 She pecked my lips, "Thank you Bea," And smiled brightly as her eyes gleamed.

 I grinned, "Glad to see that smile returns."

 "This was nice, but I think we both need to leave before we catch a cold." 

 We hailed a cab going back to Belvoire. My jacket was on Poppy's lap. We threw secretive glances towards each other once in a while. The smile on my lips never faltered and a comfortable silence wrapped us along with the murmurs of the radio inside the cab. It felt normal and I felt happy once again.

 As we get out from the cab, the first thing I saw was the Zeta house and just like that reality crashed my bubble of happiness. The smile on my lips dropped. The weight on my chest intensified. As the cab leave, I turned to Poppy she was looking at me with a soft smile.

 I pressed my lips into a thin line. She noticed my expression and the smile on her face dropped, "Oh..." She sighed before laughing dryly, "Of course." She bit her lip like she was stopping herself for spitting out more words. "I better go inside." Her voice was nonchalant as if her mask was back again. 

 "Yeah," I said curtly.

 She clenched her jaw, "Fine." She turned around abruptly and speed walk inside the Zeta House.

 Everything in me tensed - my hands, my jaws and my chest. I wanted to say more, but I bit my tongue. Tonight was the last time. I kept chanting those words on my mind as I watched her walking away from me.

[offtopicoverload]

Hope Dumps Noah

I have no logical explanation for what this is, but @bubblybabynailpolish had an anon bring up Noah + Hope = Jade + Beck from Victorious a while ago, and it’s been living rent free in my head for weeks so here’s some bullshit. It’s loosely based on that one episode where Jade gets Tori to win back Beck except gayer and more litg and exists purely to appease the gremlin that is early 2010s me yelling in the back of my mind. And thanks to Anne for answering my weird asks, this is what they were for lmao

T Rating (fluff and angst, some elements of the show kinda? i tried at least)

Hope x MC (Rosie)

~10k (got super carried away but didnt wanna make multiple parts so take it as you will. on the bright side, it'd be longer if i edited properly but im tired so no)

Rosie’s front door shakes on its hinges, a pounding, thundering sound echoing from the other side, berating the wood as it quivers and quivers. Her head flies up in surprise, half expecting an army to spill into her flat, battering ram in hand as they shout orders. But no such event occurs, and she leaps up from the sofa in the corner, pocketing her phone and hurrying across the room before yanking the door open. She immediately freezes in place, meeting bewildered, watery eyes standing on the other side of the threshold.

Tears are streaming down splotchy cheeks, a throat bobbing as it fights to maintain some sort of composure, even as bones tremble beneath skin, shivering regardless of the heat of the building. “Um, uh, hey?” Rosie tries awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway and gripping the knob with pale knuckles.

“Can I come in?” the words waver as they leave messy, tear-muddied, brightly stained lips, pouring out like broken shards, creating their own trail alongside tears. Red eyes glance down the hallway, paranoid as they search for something, even in the late night, “I don’t - I don’t want to be out here where -” a sniffle “- where people can see.”

Rosie blinks a few times, her mind still slowly working to process the situation that’s just presented itself to her. But dark eyes are glimmering with shed and unshed tears, pleading beneath lashes and shadows from poor corridor lighting, and she startles into action, “Yeah! Yeah, er, yeah,” she mumbles, moving aside and holding the door open in invitation.

The threshold’s crossed, hurrying inside the flat with arms crossed, making a beeline for the upholstered sofa backed against the wall and dropping down onto it. Rosie closes the door, locking it carefully, neurotically, slowly, just to give herself time to think, to make sense of what to do with one of the last people she ever expected inside her flat: Hope.

Hope’s sitting on her sofa, curled in on herself to take up as little space as possible, cheeks covered in the remnants of despair that Rosie can’t even explain, let alone prepare herself for. Hope’s sniffling in her living room, palms running up and down her biceps to calm herself, her throat struggling to stifle sobs she’s ashamed of. Hope’s crying in her flat, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid the world, makeup streaked and smudged on all of her features, features wracked with inexplicable pain.

Rosie turns from the door, brushing her clammy palms on her sweatpants over and over again, a distractionary stimuli to calm the nerves slowly bubbling beneath her skin. Nerves she hasn’t felt in months, and was determined to never feel again, not after weeks and weeks of the constant feeling of insects crawling beneath her skin, burrowing and biting and squirming. She glances up, finding Hope’s eyes trained on her, hesitant and terrified from across the room, the flat’s lights reflecting in them, her damp cheeks shimmering in the warm colours.

Rosie forces her lips to curl in a tiny smile as she approaches, somewhat slow and cautious, until she can fall into the cushions beside Hope, bloodshot eyes never straying from her movement. Rosie risks a hand on her back, gently skating up and down her spine, an attempt at comfort she doesn’t have a reason to provide. But she provides it anyway, praying it’ll help, it’ll keep the tears from dripping down Hope’s jaw and dampening her top.

Only it doesn’t, only Hope begins to crumble, falling against her and burying her face against Rosie’s shoulder, sobs shaking her shoulders, trembling like the door on its hinges. Rosie wraps her arms around the quaking body clinging to her, murmuring a few quiet assurances, an offer of a lifesaver in the raging sea drowning her. Her hands draw circles on Hope’s vulnerable back, shapes to distract herself with, to ground herself with.

Hope bawls and whimpers and sobs and shakes for what feels like forever to Rosie, a forever that’s odd and uncomfortable, a forever that she doesn’t know what to make of. It’s not that she’s necessarily upset with it - she’s done this for girl friends in the past, she knows how to help a heartbroken woman - it’s just who she’s helping. She hasn’t seen Hope since the finale, since she walked away with her hand clasped in Noah’s, since Rosie split the money with Arjun, just to appease the audience.

He was sweet, sure, but they just didn’t fit. She didn’t feel like he was her other half, her perfect match, a missing piece in the puzzle that constructs her life. She didn’t see herself sacrificing things for him, didn’t see herself working for her relationship with him, didn’t see herself with him, point blank. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

Which is exactly why she has no idea what to make of the woman dampening and wrinkling her sweater, face pressed to her shoulder and hands fisted in her shirt. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs against Hope’s head, her breath hot where it brushes skin, a shiver running through Hope at the exhale.

This is unfamiliar territory to Rosie, unknown ground as she slowly steps into no man’s land, wary of land mines sitting beneath the dirt. Land mines of glares and scoffs and dismissals, land mines that sat in every corner of the Villa. Maybe in another life this would be normal, be commonplace, but not in this one.

Not in the world where Rosie kissed Noah in the Villa’s lounge that fateful day, that day that she’s regretted ever since. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, it was only supposed to help Priya and Bobby. It wasn’t supposed to cause the end of the world or hurt Hope as much as it did. It wasn’t supposed to confuse Noah as much as it did or leave him dragging things on for ages. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all, anything but a blatant mistake.

But it was, it was so much, and now here they are, months and months later. Hope hasn’t spoken to Rosie since the finale, and Rosie didn’t even mind. She’s barely kept in touch with anyone, the only people she speaks to being Chelsea and Priya, since they’re always first to reach out. Even in the Villa, Hope would barely speak to her, and it hurt for a while. It hurt that they had been so close and were suddenly so far, but she always forced that hurt away. It was her own fault, it was her actions that led to Hope hating her guts.

Except, maybe she doesn’t hate Rosie’s guts. Maybe she doesn’t want her dead or wish she was never born. Maybe she still thinks about when they were friends like Rosie does. Maybe there’s a reason she’s crying in Rosie’s arms in this moment, that she showed up at Rosie’s door, that she sought out something only Rosie could presumably offer.

Hope swallows thickly, her head turning until her cheek’s resting against Rosie. “We broke up,” Hope croaks, stifling another sob as she forces her voice out again, “I - I dumped Noah.”

“Oh, um…” Rosie fumbles, her hand tracing the length of Hope’s spine beneath her heavy, navy, patterned sweater, “I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words still warm as they settle on Hope’s skin.

“It’s my fault,” she whimpers, turning her face back to Rosie as another tremble courses through her, a barely suppressed noise of anguish dying in her throat.

Rosie resumes her reassurances, her small whispers into Hope’s scalp, her tight hold on Hope’s quivering body. She cycles through every calming technique or phrase she can think of what must be a hundred times over, until Hope quiets, until Rosie stops feeling tears on her neck, until steady, even breathing fills the flat.

She swallows to stabilise herself before asking the all important question, one she’s a little nervous to hear the answer to, “Can I - Can I ask why you’re here? And, uh, so upset? If it was your decision?” she trips over her words, a flower of nerves blossoming in her stomach, and she wants to stamp it out, to stop it from pulling her in once more.

Hope pulls away from, her face set in malleable stone even with tears glistening on her cheekbones, sparkling in the overhead lights Rosie had on, diamonds tumbling down her skin, soft enough not to cut. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I - I didn’t know what to do,” she confesses, her head bowing and eyes staring into her lap.

“Okay,” Rosie nods, a palm still skating up and down the length of Hope’s upper arm, “That’s okay. You don’t have to know. You can just stay here if you want?” she offers uneasily, shifting awkwardly in her spot.

Hope’s eyes flicker up to meet Rosie’s, a cautious hopefulness in them, “I can? It’s not, like, weird?” she mumbles, averting her gaze once more.

“Not if you don’t think it is,” Rosie counters as coolly as she can manage.

Hope shakes her head adamantly, “No, no, I’d… I’d rather not be on my own right now.”

Rosie smiles in what she hopes comes across as encouraging, “That’s cool. You want me to stay out here? We can watch a movie?” she proposes with pinched brows and squinted eyes.

A gentle, hesitant smile quirks Hope’s mouth, “Yeah.” She pauses, contemplative and nodding distractedly, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Rosie rises from the sofa, crossing the living room to flip off the lights and grab the remote and a pile of blankets sitting in the corner. She drops them beside Hope in a heap, crashing onto the opposite side of the sofa a second later. She flicks through streaming services until Hope points out some random romcom, Rosie turning it on as Hope relaxes into the sofa with one of the blankets.

Rosie doesn’t pay much attention to the film, playing with her box braids distractedly and only having a loose grasp on the cheesy plot, but she notices every time Hope laughs, the sound becoming more and more relaxed as time goes on. Rosie sinks into the cushions, her legs folded and arms wrapped around her torso, head lolled against the back of the sofa.

It’s hard to tell when her eyelids fall shut, or when the movie ends, or when Hope moves, but Rosie wakes up to a dark screen flickering through backgrounds and ads for streaming exclusives. She wakes up to Hope’s head resting on her shoulder and a blanket splayed across her lap, as if Hope was worried she’d be cold without it.

She blinks a few times in the dark, taking in the scene around her and slowly processing what her night has become. She only wanted to sit on her phone before going to bed early after her long day at work. She didn’t expect a crying woman to show up at her doorstep or to watch a bad movie until too early in the morning, or to fall asleep in the living room. A sigh shakes her chest, and she reaches for the remote, turning off the telly and settling back into the sofa, Hope shifting beside her with the adjustment.

---

Rosie wakes up to sunlight pouring into her flat and a deserted sofa, blankets the only remnants of Hope’s night spent in the living room. She slumps forward, head in her hands as she adjusts to the too-bright sun and the noise of London already filtering inside, honks of car horns and a hum of people on the streets providing a familiar soundtrack to her wake up.

“I want to get him back,” a voice declares, the words wavering slightly as they fall from lips set in a frown.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she lifts her head, blinking to clear her vision. She finds Hope standing across the room, arms crossed and expression determined as she meets Rosie’s gaze.

“I want to get Noah back, I want to tell him I’m sorry for the breakup,” Hope repeats, her voice sturdier now.

Rosie nods, her mind still foggy but the haze slowly clearing, “Okay. That’s good,” she rationalises slowly, rising from the sofa and stretching her muscles; she’s made a point to avoid sleeping on the sofa normally. She stalks into the kitchen, falling into her usual morning routine easily.

Hope follows behind her, eyes widening, “It is?” she sounds surprised, stopping a ways away from Rosie, feet on the wood.

“Yeah, if you were happy together,” Rosie nods again, turning to her kitchen appliances. She starts with coffee, collecting beans and supplies meticulously as always, setting them out in a particular pattern beside the fridge.

Hope crashes into a barstool at the counter behind Rosie, her voice coming out softer now, “We were,” she confirms.

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs. “So go get him back,” she turns, forearms dropping to the counter beneath her to support her weight. She watches Hope curiously, expecting some explanation or excitement or something of the like, but Hope’s gone silent, her lip slipping between her teeth to worry the skin. Her gaze is trained on the pale countertop, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Hope?” Rosie asks gently.

Dark eyes fly up to meet her own, snapping up too quickly, “Yeah?”

“You okay?” Concern wells in Rosie’s gaze before she can prevent it, her upper body unconsciously leaning forward to inspect Hope and find what’s suddenly irking her.

“Yeah,” Hope nods.

Rosie isn’t quite convinced, her brows knitting together, “You sure?”

Hope’s eyes flicker around the kitchen for a minute to avoid the deep eyes watching her before her shoulders slump, defeated and exhausted, “No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

“What’s wrong?”

A heavy sigh lifts Hope’s shoulders, twitching them lightly “I don’t think he’ll talk to me, not after yesterday.”

Rosie pauses. She hadn’t really considered that, just assumed Noah would be as torn up about the breakup as Hope had been, that he’d been jumping in place if Hope said it was a mistake. Her fingernails tap at the counter as she considers, weighing her options before diving right in, “Do you want me to try?”

Hope’s eyes dart to Rosie again, still just as surprised as earlier, as if everything Rosie does is entirely unbelievable, “You’d do that?”

“I guess?” Rosie gives an awkward shrug, averting her eyes and turning around to continue making coffee. She grabs milk from the fridge before finishing the process, pouring everything into a mug, “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles when she faces Hope again, swirling the dark liquid in a whirlpool.

It’s a long, almost painful amount of time before either of them utter another word. “Thank you,” Hope whispers the words, a tiny break in the quiet of the flat, of the bubble that’s formed in the kitchen.

---

The next day, long after Hope leaves her flat, long after Rosie made eggs and coffee for the both of them, long after Hope gave Rosie a quick hug in thanks, Rosie grabs an Uber to the other side of the city, to the library Noah works at. She strides into the building with her hands knotted in the pockets of her jacket, nerves clamming her palms as she scans the open area she’s found herself in. It’s relatively empty, only a few people sitting and working or browsing shelves idly in the middle of the day.

She searches a few aisles, glancing down empty passageways and passing shelf after shelf loaded with books. A few patrons give her odd looks, some outright glaring at her for her behaviour, but she eventually finds Noah in a back corner, restocking a few shelves in practiced motions, a cart loaded with books parked beside him.

“Hey,” she greets from down the aisle, waving slightly with an uneasy smile when he glances at her in surprise.

He adds the books in his hands to the shelf before turning to face her properly, his expression slightly stunned, “Hey,” he greets back, his tone puzzled as one hand falls to the book cart to lean against.

Rosie ventures further into the aisle, her eyes darting around as she attempts to figure out how to broach the tender subject of a breakup from only two days ago. She stops before him, folding her arms and rolling up and down on her toes, “So…” she starts, looking up at him from beneath her lashes in hopes that he’ll understand what she’s getting at.

He doesn’t, only blinking as he looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation for her presence. She sighs, one hand fiddling with the tips of her braids nervously, rolling them between the pads of her fingers, “You and Hope broke up?” she eventually asks, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as she can muster.

His eyes go wide, his jaw falling open, “Um, yeah, but I - Look, you’re really amazing but I think I need a little time, you know, and if you’ll wait, that’s great, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything, but again, you’re amazing, I just…” he trails off as he takes in the confusion on her face, a blush growing on his cheeks.

Then it clicks, “Oh!” she startles. “No, no, I - mate, I didn’t come to hit on you,” she clarifies, somewhat taken aback by the conclusion he so quickly jumped to. “I’m not here to ask you out, no,” she reiterates.

He nods swiftly, muttering a few apologies under his breath before clearing his throat. “So, um, why are you here then?” he asks, careful and wary of saying something else wrong.

Rosie shifts on her feet, hands falling back to fidget in her jacket pocket’s, “Well… I kinda got the impression that Hope regrets the way things went down and wants to try again,” she forces, drawing herself to her full height, still a few inches shorter than the man before her.

Confusion flickers on his face, “How’d you get that impression?”

“I talked to her.”

The confusion grows, a crease splitting his eyebrows, “She talked to you?”

“She showed up at my flat,” Rosie answers casually.

“Why?”

She shrugs, mumbling out an “I dunno” in response.

“And you’re fine with that? And you’re helping her?” his arms cross over his chest as he asks, staring down at her intently, intimidatingly.

“Yeah,” she shrinks under his gaze, drawing her jacket tighter to block out the sudden chill coursing down her spine.

Noah’s lips twist, though in frustration or anger or upset, Rosie can’t tell. “Why?” he repeats.

Rosie sighs, shrugging again at the lack of a better answer, offering her best explanation, “She was really torn up about it.”

“She dumped me,” he states calmly, matter-of-factly, dismissively.

“I know.”

He watches Rosie carefully for a moment, taking in her appearance as she shuffles on her feet, unable to conceive of where this conversation is going next. “Do you know why?” he finally asks, Rosie stilling at the question.

“No,” she admits reluctantly.

“I got lunch with Priya, alone.”

“Well, yeah, that’s not great,” sarcasm soaks her words, coating her throat as the syllables escape.

Noah blinks at her, still stern and calm, “Because Ibrahim and Marisol had to cancel.”

“Oh,” Rosie freezes, her body tensing uncomfortably. That changes things. She swallows thickly, eyebrows raising and curving together, “Does she know that?”

“I tried to tell her.”

“Maybe she’ll listen now.”

“She never does,” Noah shrugs, his demeanor unchanged and unaffected.

She looks to him in disbelief, “That can’t be true.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, his guard finally cracking as his arms fall back to his sides, disappointment radiating from him like warmth from a fire, “For my birthday she got me The Old Man and the Sea,” he looks at Rosie as if he expects her to understand what that means.

“Okay…” she squints. She knows enough about literature to know it’s a classic, that most students have to read it at one point, herself included. “Why’s that bad? You’re a librarian.”

Noah’s lips curve in a slight frown as he straightens impossibly taller, “I hate Hemingway,” he nearly spits the name, a frown splitting Rosie’s own lips at his obvious displeasure.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

---

Hope shows up at Rosie’s flat again that night, her features fraught as she hurries in, hugging herself tight with her coat. She drops onto the sofa after she enters, Rosie following a beat behind and folding her legs on the cushions, Hope nearly vibrating in her skin as she watches Rosie expectantly.

When Rosie only meets her gaze, she sighs exasperatedly, “Well? What’d he say? He didn’t text me or anything,” she leans forward, eager to learn.

Rosie shifts under the excitement presented to her, excitement she knows is about to die, “He, uh, he wasn’t really on board with you guys getting back together,” she mumbles, avoiding shining eyes.

Hope visibly deflates in only a heartbeat, her bottom lip poking out as tears well in her eyes, every part of her depressed and hurt, “He wasn’t?” Her voice is small, painfully so to Rosie’s ears.

She forces herself not to cringe at the tone, at the way Hope’s fighting tears once more, “No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’ve done a lot,” Hope sniffles, wiping at her nose and blinking back tears to calm herself, to prevent another onslaught of sobs on Rosie’s sofa. “You’ve done a lot,” she repeats, eyes trained on the fabric of the cushions beneath them, staring intently just to have something to focus her energy on. “Did he say why?” she finally asks after a minute, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them.

“Er -” Rosie squirms, fidgeting nervously, “He said he didn’t think you really listened to him,” she draws out the words, not wanting to speak them.

Hope is absolutely appalled, her jaw falling open in horror, “That’s - That’s not true!” she eventually manages the words, her mouth fumbling them.

“I know, but -”

“I listen!” she insists, hands flying up to grip Rosie’s forearm desperately, in search of confirmation that she’s a good person, a good partner, “Why would he say that, Rosie?” she’s panicked as her grasp tightens, falling away only a second later, “Why would he say that?” she repeats, softer now, a whisper.

“He said for his birthday you got him a Hemingway book,” Rosie chances.

Hope’s arms fold over her chest protectively, “He didn’t have any Hemingway.”

“‘Cause he hates Hemingway,” Rosie explains as gently as she can, Hope immediately slumping again, any retorts or defences forgotten.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet, Hope staring at nothing and Rosie staring at Hope, waiting for something to change, waiting for her to get sad or angry or maybe just leave all together. But she doesn’t, meeting Rosie’s eyes with a fire inside her own, “I need something else.” She’s determined as she sinks into the cushions, thinking raptly of some solution. “What if I get him a gift?” a lightbulb seems to explode above her head as she sits up again.

Rosie blinks at the quick change in mood, taken aback at the grin sitting on Hope’s lips. “Like what?”

“He likes Greyhounds?” Hope proposes with a tilt of her head and a quirk of an eyebrow, “He always said he’d love to have one.”

“You’re gonna buy him an entire dog?” Rosie asks in shock, her tone stunted and sharp.

Hope scowls at her in irritation, “He likes them!” she defends, “He’s talked about them a lot, and it’ll show I listen, right?”

“I guess?”

“What do you mean you guess?”

Hands fly up in self-defence and attempted placation, “This is your relationship, I don’t know him or what goes,” Rosie gestures in the air separating her from Hope, working to diffuse the tension.

Hope huffs, crossing her arms and collapsing into the cushions behind her, “Fine.”

---

Hope spends the next few days looking up shelters and breeders, trying to decide on a puppy or an adult or even an elderly dog, researching proper care for a Greyhound and what they need. Rosie doesn’t see or hear from Hope until her phone’s ringing incessantly as she gets out of the shower, scrambling to answer it and silence the buzzing, “Hello?” she asks without even reading the Caller ID, fumbling to turn on speakerphone.

“Hey!” Hope’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and energetic. “I found one!” she announces, clearly pleased with herself and her findings.

“Hmm?” Rosie questions distractedly, tightening her towel wrapped around her body and grabbing skin and hair products to set them on the bathroom sink.

“I found a dog! I went to a shelter!”

Rosie nods, only realising afterwards that Hope can’t see her, sighing as she coats her face in moisturiser. “That’s great,” she hums again.

“Can you come over tonight? And we bring him to Noah’s flat? Please?” her voice is begging as it rings through the phone, Rosie glancing to it as Hope draws out the vowels of her plea.

“Uh, yeah, I think I’m free,” she mumbles, her mouth twisting as she applies products.

She’s reaching for the end call button after a long silence when a quiet murmur surprises her, “Thank you,” Hope whispers into her phone from the other side of the line.

A small smile curves Rosie’s mouth, “No problem.”

---

“You’re the worst,” Hope groans as she tugs on a leash, glaring at Rosie and her amused smile beside her.

“Says the one that dragged me into this,” Rosie grins, popping her eyebrows for effect. She’s refused to assist with the dog the entire time, forcing Hope to try and wrangle the full grown animal.

It darts forward down the street, yanking Hope along, “Hey!” she chastises, Rosie laughing unabashedly from behind her, jogging to catch up. “You could help, you know! He listened to you earlier!”

Rosie smirks, “Oh, I know. This is much more fun, though,” she teases, falling into another fit of laughter as Hope digs her heels into the pavement, working to pull the dog back.

He doesn’t listen, carrying on in the direction of the library. Noah wasn’t at his flat, so they’ve been forced to take a short detour to find him without waiting. “At least he knows where he’s going,” Rosie comments, still grinning.

Hope shoots her a scowl, “How lucky,” she spits through gritted teeth, her jaw tight as she uses all her strength to keep the dog from running off into London’s streets.

Rosie sighs as Hope nearly trips over her own feet, crouching down and whistling sharply. The dog turns, bolting for her, nearly tackling her to the ground until she grips his fur to keep upright, cooing over him the entire time. Hope’s gaze is a mix of disappointed, annoyed, and mildly impressed as Rosie grins up at her, scratching the dog behind his ears.

She pops back to her feet, stealing the leash from Hope in one smooth motion, “You’re welcome,” she hums, setting back off on their path, the dog following obediently on her heels.

She hears Hope groaning about it behind her until she catches up, muttering a ‘thanks’ under her breath, much to Rosie’s enjoyment. The rest of the walk is relatively quiet, only a few good natured ribbings from Rosie or complaints from Hope filling the space as they work their way to the library, street lamps illuminating much of their path in the dark evening.

Noah spots them before they spot him, the pair distracted as Rosie laughs at Hope’s grumbling, Rosie nearly walking into a post as she struggles to stay upright. “Stop it!” Hope chides, slapping her shoulder, which only makes Rosie laugh even harder.

“Um, hi?” Noah calls out to them, earning their gazes simultaneously. Hope stiffens, Rosie sobers, and the dog slobbers onto the pavement beneath their feet.

Rosie passes the leash back to Hope, taking a step back and away from their reunion, much to Noah’s confusion. “Hi,” Hope greets back, his eyes settling back on her.

“What are you guys doing out here?” he asks, his tone slipping into something adjacent to wariness, maybe light caution.

A bright smile curves Hope’s mouth and she sticks her hand out, offering the leash and the dog attached to it, “I got you a dog!” she announces eagerly, “I know how much you’ve always wanted one, so…” she trails off at his expression.

His eyebrows are drawn tight, lips working to form some words, “You got me a dog?!” he balks, his expression soon slipping into anger, almost a snarl, with his eyes blazing. Hope taking a step away from him, blinking rapidly as her mind audibly whirs.

“You always said you wanted one!” she explains, a spark igniting in her own dark eyes, threatening to start a fight.

“That doesn’t - What were you thinking?!”

Hope’s jaw sets tight, but it’s not enough to hide the shimmer in her eyes, “You like them, I know you do! And you don’t think I listen, but I do, so I’m proving that to you!” she counters, her voice raising.

Noah looks baffled, his hands flying and mouth opening and closing as he searches for words, “He won’t fit in my flat, Hope! He’s big and - and has a ton of energy!” he gestures wildly to the dog that’s found his way to Rosie, sitting in front of her as she scratches behind his ear.

“I thought that’s what you liked about them!” Hope’s own arms are waving, in both exasperation and irritation. One hand rises to fidget with her braids, tugging on and fiddling with a few.

“Yeah, for when I’m in a house, not a tiny flat!” Noah shouts back, “I can’t have him! I don’t want him!”

Any fire that had been blazing in Hope’s dark eyes dies out at that, at the way Noah’s glaring at her, at the way he’s dismissed her peace offering, her attempt to fix things between them. “But -”

“You can’t just -” he huffs sharply before trying to school his expression into something calmer, “You can’t just do these things without asking, it’s like you don’t even care what I think.”

Hope looks horrified, like her world is turning to ash right before her, and maybe it is, maybe this is the end of everything for her, “That’s not - I care! This is how I care! I - I pay attention and try and do things for you!”

“I don’t want you to do things for me!” Noah counters, hands balling into angry fists at his sides.

“Why not?” Hope asks indignantly, head tilted back to meet Noah’s gaze directly, her chest puffed out in a show of confidence.

Noah flounders, his jaw snapping shut, visibly rolling with tension as he searches for a reason, exploding when he can’t find one, “I just don’t! I can do things myself, Hope, I don’t need you railroading me like you always do! I’m tired of it, it’s not worth it!” he accuses, his last words effectively severing any chance at reconciliation.

Hope slumps, her shoulders sagging and face drooping, every muscle in her body going lax, as if she’s melting from heartache. Noah exhales sharply, his own shoulders dropping, losing some of the tension keeping them upright as he drags a hand through his hair, playing with it to calm himself further.

Rosie keeps to the side, not sure of her place, not sure if she’s meant to intervene, and only watches Hope stand with her head turned to the ground, braids blocking her face from view as she remains frozen, unmoving, her feet stuck to the ground and her body tense. “I’m sorry.” The words are barely audible, fractures of the typical strength in her voice, before she turns on her heel, dropping the dog’s leash and running away with tears in her eyes.

Noah deflates as she leaves, his hands balled up tight to steady himself, his face scrunched up in thought and frustration and likely a dozen other emotions as he struggles to process them. He slumps forward, his previous fight and irritation dissipating into the air, the dog still sitting at Rosie’s feet, tongue lolling and a whine echoing from him.

All the while, Rosie struggles for words, for a reaction, for something appropriate, but all she can think about is the way Hope collapsed before him, like the sight is imprinted on her mind. “Come on, mate,” she finally breaks the quiet, “You didn’t have to be that harsh,” she comments, deep creases in her own forehead and between her brows.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Noah mumbles, head down in shame as he stares at the ground, blank and empty save for the rise of his chest with each breath.

Rosie steps closer as the silence drags on, scooping up the abandoned leash and glancing over her shoulder and finding Hope long gone as she does. Her hand rises to his shoulder, gripping it loosely, “I know,” she shrugs weakly, squeezing the muscles beneath her palm. “Sorry about the dog,” she offers.

Noah laughs a little, but it’s splintered on the edges and lacking any real joy or amusement, “It’s fine. My mum’ll love him, I’m sure.”

Rosie nods sagely, retracting her hand carefully before gesturing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna, uh, go after her,” she mutters, turning on her heel and hurrying after Hope.

She finds her slumped against a wall half a block away, staring at nothing with tears streaming down her face as her lip quivers with barely restrained sobs. Rosie skids to a stop beside her, earning Hope’s attention momentarily, before she turns back to staring at nothing. She’s hollow, her gaze empty, barely there as she drifts through her mind and the storm that must be filling it like a hurricane. Rosie doesn’t say anything, only leans against the wall beside the destitute woman, eyes trained on the glimmers coating her cheeks, lit by street lamps around them.

“I just,” Hope finally begins after a long, painstakingly silent moment, “I don’t get it.” She sniffles, “I - I know we weren’t perfect, but I just… I thought we meant more than we must have.” Her voice falls apart on the last few words, cracking and splintering into a tiny, fragile whisper.

Rosie nods in understanding, pulling Hope into her arms without uttering a single word, holding her close and letting her fall apart once more, shaking under the weight of Rosie’s arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder. Her hands fist in the fabric of Rosie’s shirt, an anchor to attach herself to as the hurricane blows and wrecks and destroys her insides.

Hope’s tired of letting go, of giving in or giving up, of letting her world dissolve in her hands because fighting’s too much of a risk, a hazard, a danger to her. She’s tired of ignoring the things that rub her the wrong way, that send a cold chill down her spine, that fill her skull with a swirling mass of dark and awful thoughts. She’s tired of all the hurt and the fighting, of the way her skin turns a sickly green every time someone gets too close, of the headaches and nausea that accompany one of his unbothered shrugs.

She’s tired of it, she’s done with it, she’s not going to fight anymore, not when he doesn’t fight for her. Not when Rosie is the one she’s been leaning on, not when Rosie is the one that’s been consoling her, not when Rosie is the one that’s been nice, and caring, and sweet, and gentle, and there.

Hope shifts, freeing her face from Rosie’s top as the tears come to a stop, but keeping her head resting against her shoulder. “Why couldn’t it have been like this?” she whispers into the air, a quiet pondering that’s directed more to herself than the woman wrapped around her.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums, pulling back to look down at Hope, finding her gaze distant as she stares into the space before her, eyes piercing into the street stretching before them. “What do you mean?” Rosie murmurs down to her, finally drawing dark eyes to her own.

They’re averted just as quickly, Hope pressing her cheek even further into Rosie’s shoulder, and Rosie swears she sees some colour rush to Hope’s face. “I dunno,” she mumbles, gaze trained on nothing in particular. “It’s just… easier. Comforting. You let me do this and you’re sweet about it.”

“Noah seems pretty sweet,” Rosie mumbles awkwardly, still unsure where the line is, how Hope feels about him, how she wants to feel about him and their relationship.

Her shoulders raise in a miniscule, half-hearted shrug, “Yeah, but he doesn’t really get it. He doesn’t get it when I’m upset or mad. He’s too calm,” her lips twist at the statement, displeased at the memories.

Rosie snorts, above her, Hope’s eyes darting upwards, “What, and I’m a raving madwoman, is that?” she grins, the tension of the moment falling away with ease.

Hope’s mouth curves at the edges as she slips from Rosie’s grasp just enough to slap her arm, a common reaction to the older woman’s antics, Rosie feigning pain and rubbing at the spot instantly. “No!” Hope chides, “But you get it,” she settles back against Rosie, “Or at least you get what to do. Noah would try and fix it or tell me to ignore it or whatever, but you just let me be.”

Rosie shrugs, some heat rising to her cheeks as she glances towards the empty street beside them, fumbling for a response. She defaults to finding somewhere that will bring Hope some sort of solace, “Okay, let’s get you home,” she sighs, ignoring the heat on the back of her neck to the best of her ability.

Hope removes herself from Rosie’s hold entirely this time, stepping back and folding her arms while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks with a twist of her lips, looking to Rosie from beneath her lashes.

“Sure,” Rosie grins, slinging her arm over Hope’s shoulders to guide her through the streets to her car, Hope leaning into her with ease as they trade some small conversation.

---

A day later and there’s a knock on Rosie’s door from across the flat, a short, sharp knock. She sighs, grabbing a dish towel and dusting off her hands before exiting the kitchen and the mess of ingredients within it. Another knock sounds on the wood, impatient as it continues on and on, Rosie hurrying to reach the door.

She jerks it open to find Hope on the other side of the threshold, beaming with her fist still poised in the air and a bottle of wine in her other hand. “Hi!” she greets, stepping past Rosie into the flat and scanning the open area curiously.

“Hey?” Rosie tries, shutting the door behind Hope and leaning against it, arms crossed and towel in hand. “Should I have been expecting you?” she asks, cycling through her day in her mind to double-check.

“Nope!” Hope turns, still grinning, “But I brought wine!” she offers the bottle proudly, swinging it for emphasis.

Rosie nods, one brow raised, “I can see that.”

Hope’s smile dims, slowly falling away as Rosie doesn’t say anything more, evidently a sign of annoyance. “Sorry,” she bows her head. “I shouldn’t have come, should I? I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do tonight,” she confesses, her words rushing in a hurry to explain herself.

Rosie pushes herself upright from the door, stepping away from the threshold and closer to Hope, “I take it you usually spend evenings with Noah?”

Hope only nods in response, head still down in embarrassment and resignation. Her arms are slack at her side, the wine bottle dangling loosely in her grasp as she awaits Rosie’s harsh words telling her to leave and not come back.

“Well, I’m making dinner right now and I always make too much,” Rosie states, no edge in her voice, no malice in her words, “Take your shoes off and it’ll be done in about a half hour.” Rosie turns, striding back into the kitchen and leaving Hope to collect herself.

She joins Rosie a few minutes later in her socks, her smile repaired as she drops into a barstool across from Rosie, placing the wine bottle on the counter, a glimmer in her eyes as she presents it, pushing it across the counter. Rosie laughs in response, nicking it and pulling out wine glasses. She pours a drink for each of them, Hope draining hers rather quickly as she talks about her day, Rosie stealing a few sips as she cooks.

Rosie presents the finished dinner with a flourish to Hope, earning a laugh as she takes the plate. Rosie rounds the kitchen, dropping into the stool beside Hope and taking a swig of her wine. “So what’d you do today?” Hope prompts curiously, cutting into the chicken Rosie made and taking a bite.

“Usual stuff. Trained today, the new player’s are adjusting pretty well, and then ran a few errands. Usual stuff,” she shrugs, taking a bite of asparagus.

“That’s fun,” Hope hums encouragingly, smiling wide when Rosie glances to her. She nearly chokes on her food at the sight, coughing and laughing at the same time as Hope watches in confusion and concern, “What’s happening? Are you okay?” she turns in her seat to face Rosie directly, hands hovering, unsure of where to land.

Rosie waves her off, still working to catch her breath and stop laughing, something made infinitely more difficult by Hope hitting her on the back to presumably help her dislodge something. “I’m fine!” she croaks, working to suck in deep breaths.

“Are you sure? What happened?” Hope asks again, hand on the back of Rosie’s seat, just in case.

Rosie chuckles briefly before pressing her lips together, forcing neutrality that barely holds together, “You were just very serious in your excitement over groceries.” She bites her tongue to keep from laughing again.

“Is that really it?” Rosie nods to confirm, suppressing more giggles. Hope’s eyes roll, a groan escaping from her throat, “You’re the worst.”

Now Rosie can barely hold it back, dissolving into giggles as Hope scowls, picking at her meal as Rosie struggles to find air. “Says the one eating my food,” she grins when she finally catches her breath.

“What’s that mean?” Hope turns with a glare.

Rosie draws herself taller, even sitting down she’s got some height on Hope, “It means you showed up at my door unannounced and stole all my hard work,” she accuses coolly.

“I brought you wine!” Hope frowns, gesturing to the bottle in her defence.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips, “Who’s the one drinking it all?”

That shuts Hope up, Rosie earning a scowl as they turn back to their dinners, Hope staying quiet until Rosie brings up her job. Then she’s beaming and telling every detail of her workplace she can think of, every coworker that’s weird or mean or nice or funny, every aspect of career that she loves.

The conversation flows alongside the wine, until the bottle’s empty and the pair’s slouched on the sofa, facing each other on opposite ends. Hope fumbles for her phone, pulling it out and wincing at the time, “I need to go home.” She turns, standing up what must be too quickly because she drops back to the cushions.

Rosie shifts forward too, folding her legs before her, “Did you drive here?”

Braids jangle as Hope nods, her eyes falling shut as she slowly leans back into the cushions again. Rosie sighs, finding it much easier to stand than Hope, and grabs a blanket, draping it across her lap, “Just stay here.

Hope’s eyes squint open, looking up at Rosie with dilated pupils, “You sure?” she mumbles, her words slurring together from the alcohol that had coated her tongue.

“Yeah, you’re not getting in a wreck on my watch,” Rosie hums, collecting their glasses and the empty bottle before striding into the kitchen. She puts the glasses in the sink and the bottle on the counter beside it to deal with tomorrow, then retraces her steps to the living room.

Hope’s curled up on the sofa already, the blanket tucked under her chin, and Rosie smiles at the sight and absurdity of a drunk Hope asleep in her flat. She shakes her head, turning to her bedroom and stalking inside, collapsing on the bed as soon as she can, passing out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

---

Hope continues coming to Rosie’s flat a few times a week, sometimes with an offering of wine or takeaway in hand, sometimes with nothing more than herself. They watch movies and talk and laugh about stupid things from the Villa or stories from their lives until their tired from long days or it’s three in the morning and they still don’t stop talking.

Sometimes Hope sits in an armchair and responds to emails while Rosie paces the length of the flat with her phone pressed to her ear, talking down one of her players or fighting with managers. Sometimes there’s not a single word spoken between them, sometimes all they do is talk, sometimes Rosie makes dinner, sometimes it’s late enough that they’ve both already eaten, sometimes Hope shows up after Rosie has already gone to bed, sometimes Hope even beats her home in the afternoon.

There’s no pattern to any of it, there’s no rhythm, nothing concrete to Hope’s appearances, but Rosie soon finds that she doesn’t even mind. It’s actually kind of nice, to have someone around without any expectations. It’s kind of nice that Hope brings her soup when she gets a cold, or how Hope somehow always has wine on hand for when they need it, or how Hope tidies the flat when she’s especially busy.

It’s a casual night tonight, popcorn and drinks sitting on the coffee table as a movie plays across from them in the dark. Rosie picked tonight, a drama about a hockey team one of her players always recommends, since she couldn’t think of anything else but was not definitely not watching another of Hope’s romcoms twice in a row. They’d been snacking all night, splitting a pizza in the evening as Hope worked on some project and Rosie scrolled her phone, a silence seeping into the flat.

Rosie watches the film in a similar silence now, watches the flickering of light as it reflects and refracts off every available surface in the room. A contented sigh vibrates in her throat as she settles further into the sofa, pulling the blanket she’s enthralled within tighter. She sinks into the cushions, shifting her legs and letting her knees brush against Hope’s thighs.

Speaking of, she can see the other woman watching her in the dark, eyes trained on Rosie’s features, inspecting them carefully as blues and yellows and reds and dozens of other hues play in her dark irises, glinting off and mixing with them. Rosie glances over, finding a crease between Hope’s brows as she stares at something below Rosie’s eyes that she can’t quite place. She smiles softly in the dim lighting, teasingly, “What?” she asks, “Something on my face?”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to ask the second question, because suddenly there is absolutely something on her face, something that she doesn’t think should be there and was not at all anticipating, but honestly doesn’t entirely mind. Hope’s lips are on hers, soft and nice and there.

Hope’s kissing her. Hope’s kissing her, and it’s tentative and cautious and careful, like Hope’s gaze was a moment ago, and it all makes sense in an instant. She blinks, stunned and shocked, until her lashes flutter shut and she’s kissing Hope back. She melts into her, a hand rising to cup Hope’s cheek and draw her closer, a hand fisting in the front of her shirt to close the space between them.

When they finally break for air, a sigh slips past Hope’s lips as their lips separate, still brushing against each other, their breath mingling in the small gap. “Um, what…?” Rosie whispers against the lips on hers, unable to find a conclusion to the question.

“I - I don’t know,” Hope whispers, just as quiet, “Sorry,” she murmurs, pulling back.

Rosie watches her go, hurt welling inside her gut at the regret evident on Hope’s face, “Why?”

Hope shakes her head, like she’s frustrated with something, though Rosie doesn’t know what. “Didn’t ask,” is all she says, leaning away and turning back to the film still playing.

Rosie’s following her retreat without even realising, chasing after Hope unconsciously. “Didn’t mind.”

“Really?” Hope’s eyes snap to her, wide with clear surprise at the admission.

“I mean, maybe a little warning next time, but…” Rosie shrugs, unbothered.

Dark eyes glimmer, lit by the films rainbow of lighting, “Next time?”

“If you want.”

Hope shifts, facing Rosie head on, “Do you want a next time?” she asks carefully, emphasising the importance of the question with wide eyes.

A smirk lifts the corner of Rosie’s mouth, “First time was pretty good, so yeah.”

“Only ‘pretty good’?” Hope teases, leaning closer again, close enough for Rosie to see faint specks sparkling in her irises.

“Yep,” Rosie nods, resolute as her face solidifies into sharp stone. “Not about to stroke your ego.”

Hope groans, “You’re the worst.”

“Says the one that kissed me first,” Rosie teases right back, her smirk only growing at Hope’s annoyance, however played up it may be.

“Shut up,” Hope whines.

“No thanks,” Rosie grins, ready to start a spiel about everything she’s learned annoys Hope in the past few months, everything that earns a groan or a sigh or an eye roll, everything that makes her glare or scowl or slap Rosie’s arm even though it doesn’t hurt. “I think I’m -”

Hope’s kissing her again, only this time it’s deeper, filled with fire as Hope’s hands slip around to cup the back of her head, pulling Rosie ever closer and holding her there. Rosie’s own hands slide along Hope’s body, landing on her thighs and tugging her forward on the cushions, until their bodies are pressed together, with lips locked together. A groan slips from Hope’s throat, Rosie humming at the noise and sending her hands exploring in search of more sounds, palms grazing Hope’s exposed navel, muscles twitching beneath skin.

Hope splits them apart, her forehead pressing against Rosie’s gently, her panting breaths sending a shiver down Rosie’s spine. “What are we now?” her words only amplifying the effect.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Rosie answers easily, the question seeming unnecessary, “You’re kinda taking the reins here.”

Hope pauses, her hands clasped behind Rosie’s neck and thumbs brushing her skin idly. “Are we already dating?” she asks after a long moment.

“What do you mean?”

“We do a lot of coupley stuff,” Hope shrugs a bit, her lips twisting in contemplation, “We hang out all the time and I stay over and you make dinner and we watch movies,” she lists off.

Rosie pulls away, putting enough space between them to take in all of Hope, “Do you wanna carry on like this?”

Hope blinks, like she wasn’t expecting that question, “Yeah,” she answers, a little indignantly.

“Okay,” Rosie nods along, “Do you wanna call it dating?”

Hope stalls, eyes falling away as she considers, her voice coming out smaller than before when it finally does, “...Yeah.”

“Then we’re dating,” Rosie smiles sweetly at her, Hope’s expression softening at the sight.

Until it sharpens quickly, determination building in her eyes, “We have to go on a date,” she states evenly, matter-of-factly.

“Does that make it official?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs, falling back against the arm of the sofa casually, a wicked grin splitting her lips, “But you’re taking me out,” she warns.

Hope’s brow furrows at the declaration, the surety of it, “What? Why?”

“You started this, now it’s your problem,” Rosie smirks as Hope frowns, her eyes narrowing into a glare in the dark of the flat.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Says the one taking me on a date,” Rosie wiggles in her spot, falling back further and slipping her feet into Hope’s lap, Hope harrumphing and shoving them off with a scowl, much to Rosie’s amusement.

---

Hope drags Rosie out to a cafe in the morning, grinning the entire time she avoids telling Rosie where they’re even going, laughing at all of Rosie’s off-base guesses and humming ‘warmer’ when she gets something right.

She holds Rosie’s hand the entire time, occasionally swinging their interlocked digits between them or fiddling with Rosie’s fingers, as if they’re the most fascinating thing Hope can conceive of. And maybe they are. Maybe the way their hands fit together is strange, maybe the way they’re so close in size is odd, maybe the way Rosie squeezes her hand or traces circles along her knuckles idly is puzzling.

She pulls Rosie to a stop at the mouth of an alley, earning a confused expression in turn as Rosie looks around, “What are we doing here?” she spins in a slow circle, taking in the desolate street around them, a backroad with a small boutique, a pawn shop, and an auto body place. “Are you going to mug me?” she asks with twisted lips when she faces Hope again.

A laugh bubbles out of Hope and she swats at Rosie’s arm, a pleased smile curving Rosie’s mouth. “No!” Hope chastises, before pausing, her jaw clamping shut. “Close your eyes,” she demands a beat later.

“Okay, you’re definitely mugging me.”

“Just do it,” Hope whines. “Please?” she smiles, sweet as candy, Rosie immediately giving in with a roll of her eyes. “Perfect,” Hope squeezes Rosie’s hand tight, gently tugging her further into the alley.

“This is a very elaborate ruse to mug me, you know,” Rosie comments, eyes still squeezed shut, a hand on her lower back leading her.

Hope huffs exasperatedly, “Would you stop it?”

“Just saying. You already know where I live and when I have work, you don’t have to mug me.”

“Stop it or I really am gonna mug you.”

Rosie grins victoriously, reveling in the way she doesn’t even have to see Hope’s face to know how irritated she is, that she can tell from voice alone, “Knew it.”

“Shut. Up,” Hope’s teeth are gritted as she glares at Rosie with her dopey smile and closed eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Rosie concedes, “Just leave my money alone.”

“Just your money?”

Rosie faces Hope regardless of sight, “What’s that meant to mean? You want my phone, too?”

“Just checking if you’re available then,” Hope teases playfully, still gently leading.

Rosie pauses to consider, “Depends,” she finally lands on.

“On what?” Hope challenges.

“What you want out of me,” Rosie answers carefully, “I’m not mugging people with you.”

Hope barely suppresses an eye roll, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you really care,” Rosie coos, her hands clasping above her heart dramatically.

“I care about your money.”

Another victorious smile, “Knew it. Golddigger.”

“Arsehole.”

“Says the mugger.”

A sigh’s Rosie’s only response as they come to a stop somewhere, Hope’s arms draping around Rosie’s shoulders and her lips pecking Rosie’s. Her hands instinctively land on Hope’s hips, “Okay, open your eyes,” Hope hums.

Rosie obliges, blinking a few times to adjust to the sunlight, smiling down at Hope as her vision clears. “This it? Lotta theatrics. Coulda just stayed in for this view,” she teases.

Hope shakes her head exasperatedly, but it’s not enough to hide the smile on her lips, “Look around.”

She does, lifting her head away from Hope and finding them on a busier street the alley emptied onto. There’s a little café right in front of her, somewhat secluded from the rest of the street, with fogged windows and blurs of colour inside. No one’s moving in or out of the building, and it’s small enough that only a few patrons could possibly be inside.

Rosie’s eyes fall back to Hope and her smile, “What is this place?” she asks softly, bewonderment lessening the edge of her tongue at the quiet little escape she’s been led to.

“My favourite café. It’s really small and has the same regulars and everyone’s super nice and wonderful.” Hope bites her lip, as if she’s hesitating or nervous about something, “I found it after the show, when there was so much attention everywhere I went, and no one even knew me, so I started coming all the time.”

Rosie nods along, staring into Hope’s eyes intently to ground her, to show she understands. And she really does. She understands how hard it was with the editing and the pressure of the show. She understands how bad the backlash online was at times, when people would shit on them for anything. She understands how necessary it was to find a place to withdraw, to have people that didn’t care and just let her continue on with her job.

“Well, let’s go,” Hope’s arms retract from around Rosie’s shoulders, hands sliding down to grip Rosie’s and pull her along to the café. She swings the door open with a grin, a bell ringing above their heads. Not a single patron glances their way, most typing away at laptops or scrolling their phones as they sip drinks and slowly pick at food.

Only an employee takes notice, waving at Hope with a welcoming smile as he wipes down a countertop. She gently leads Rosie to the till, immediately falling into a conversation with the man as Rosie scans the menu and the shop. There’s booths on one wall, most empty, small tables filling the front, and a mural of different climates and natural environments on the wall opposite the booths.

“What do you want?” Hope asks, turning to Rosie as the employee stands waiting, his hands on his hips and a slight smile curling his mouth.

She smiles back before glancing at the menu and the dozens of items written across it. “Um,” her eyes scan over drink after drink, the letters whirring together. “Iced vanilla latte for now?” she tries, meeting the employees eyes.

“Ooh, me too!” Hope chimes, squeezing Rosie’s hand excitedly.

The employee - Chris, on his name tag - smiles even brighter, “Coming right up.”

Hope tugs Rosie away before Chris has even turned all the way around, pulling her along to a booth and collapsing into one side. Rosie follows, settling across from her, their hands still loosely linked together on the table, Hope’s thumb tracing the lines of Rosie’s palm.

Something sparks in the back of Rosie’s mind at the contact, in the pit of her stomach, in the thump of her heart, and she can’t quite place it, but she knows she likes it. She knows she likes this moment, too, the way Hope looks so at ease and relaxed, the way Hope brought her to her hidden spot, the way Hope tried to make breakfast before opting for the café. She likes the way this is going, they way they work together, even from before they realised there was something more to them than platonic movie nights. She likes how casual it was, how easy it came about, how relaxed she is as long as Hope’s there.

And she likes the way they just fit. They fit like one another’s other half, their perfect match, the missing pieces in the puzzles that construct their lives. And she can see herself sacrificing things for the woman sitting across from her, can see herself working for this relationship and all its inevitable flaws, can see herself in this moment forever, without a doubt in her mind. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

But she can see Hope’s smile, can envision countless Sunday mornings spent at this little café, can rationalise the way her heart flutters at every laugh. This makes perfect sense, every detail and every second is reasonable and real and means so much more than Rosie ever thought they’d mean.

[blvirz]

Living Life Through a Lense: Chapter Twenty-Four(B)

Word Count: 11.4K

Warnings: swearing? (idk does that count??)

[2:30 AM KST, five days before the new premiere]

In every single pamphlet you were given at the hospital just before leaving, experts in them listed independence and control to be two of the most important things that you would lose after a brain injury. And it was true. No longer could you be alone for extended periods of time, nor could you be in charge of simple things such as taking your medication or walking to go get the mail downstairs. Now it wasn’t that you didn’t agree with the statement, but what these pamphlets seemed to have left out was the rare, but still likely to occur memory loss. So if somehow you were to reword them, you surely would have given memory loss an honourable mention among the things that were hardest to lose.

As a result of the accident, physically you were left suffering from a broken wrist, extensive bruising all throughout your body, and a deep gash near one the temples of your forehead. However mentally or to be more specific, cognitively, you suffered with concentration, mood swings, and memory loss.

Immediately after the accident you were thrust into what seemed like an endless schedule of testing and consults with your doctors to determine the extent of your cognitive impairments. At the end of all that, it was determined that you had forgotten everything in the past few months; from people to events and even certain habits, all of it was gone.

So far on your list of forgotten people included your supposed girlfriend Jennie, the rest of her members: Jisoo, Lisa and Rosé, and the various other staff you had become friends with at YG. You knew their names, but anything you learned or experienced with them after that first initial meeting at YG was gone. You couldn’t recall anything about their personalities, or even the moments you shared with them before the accident.

In the last month following the accident, your company had slammed the brakes on the release of your documentary. And with its release delayed a month, it gave you time to focus on your recovery. Which for you, meant weeks of physical therapy for your wrist, the occasional doctor's visit, sessions with an occupational therapist, and then back home to continue wallowing in both self-pity and despair. However, the newest development in your routine was sitting at your desk for hours at a time watching all of the footage captured in light of your latest documentary.

Nothing in your routine had seemed to do anything positive in terms of your recovery. Your therapist only made you more confused and agitated, while the videos made you feel cold-hearted and guilty. But at the end of each day, you still went to therapy and you still stubbornly stayed up into the early mornings watching as many videos as your brain would allow. In hopes that just maybe, by some miracle, something might trigger your memories.

Currently, it was almost three in the morning and having decided that you did enough sulking for the day, you sat up in your chair in search of a new video to watch. Though, somehow you always found yourself gravitating to the video labelled Jennie on your very cluttered desktop. Jadedly, you clicked on the video and pressed on the spacebar, and for what had to be the one-hundredth time, you sat back in your chair and let it play.

The video started off hectically, but once the camera was brought to a steady and able to focus, it showed a clear shot of a woman sitting on a picnic blanket eating chips. In the background behind her, you could see the very evenly cut grass, and if you focused hard enough, you could also make out the pristinely cut hedges. All things considered, from a videographer’s perspective it was an awful shot, though there was no denying the fact that the video had a certain charm to it, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Okay go it’s recording,” you heard through the speakers of your headset; it was your voice, but because you spent years having to both hear and edit it, you were able to ignore it out of habit.

It was a few seconds of silence, so quiet that you were able to hear the wind when suddenly there was a loud crunching noise immediately followed by laughter.

“What! There’s no way you heard it that time!” the woman in the video exclaimed; her eyes noticeably widened.

“Jennie… I’m pretty sure all of Korea heard you. Now say it! You lost!”

“Wait give me one more shot! Just one more. Please Y/N,” the other girl pleaded.

There was a prominent sigh that was picked up by the camera followed by the words, “fine. One last shot. But! The second I hear something, you have to say it.”

She nodded and with ease plopped another chip into her mouth. And just like the first time, it took a couple of seconds, but there was another clear-cut crunching noise that could be heard.

She sat there silently with her eyebrows furrowed, her nose scrunched up and lips formed in a pout, but as soon as her features softened up from behind the camera you could hear, “no! Don’t give me that look. I’ve already given you enough chances. Now pony up, I wanna hear it.”

She sat there silently unwilling to give in to your commands, and if you hadn't watched this video a hundred times before, you would have assumed that the video was going to end. But instead, there was some shuffling and eventually, it showed your face as you leaned against the girl’s shoulder. “Nice and clear. Say it Jennie,” you said as you laughed and looked at yourself in the camera's viewfinder.

She then pretended to roll her eyes in annoyance, and you would have believed it if it weren’t for the smile that she was desperately failing to hide from the camera. Shortly after, in a clear and soft voice, you heard and watched as the girl in the video stared at you and told you that she loved you. Just before the abrupt ending you had come to learn the video had, you could faintly hear yourself say, “I love you too.”

Watching the video over and over again you realized three things. For one, this probably wasn’t supposed to be a part of the documentary considering how it was shot. Two, because it was the only video on your desktop, it must have meant a great deal to you. And three, although it was a short clip, it showed you all that you needed to know; that you were in love with the girl in the video, and that she loved you too.

Before you could let your frustrations get the best of you, you closed your laptop and headed to bed.

…

Your doctor sat in a chair across from you at a desk behind several computer screens. After getting one final look at what you assumed were the results of your latest tests, she wheeled herself out from behind the desk so that you two could talk face to face. “Everything so far looks good on my end, and after going over the results of your latest cognitive test and brain scan, it looks like our weekly visits are no longer necessary. However– there is a catch. Any kind of intense physical activity, alcohol, and medication other than the ones prescribed are strictly prohibited for the next month. Taking part in any of these can have serious adverse effects. That being said, did you have any questions?”

Wasting no time you asked, “have the chances of my memories coming back changed since the last checkup?”

You watched as your doctor tried to maintain the neutral expression she was probably trained to have in medical school, but seeing the way she pursed her lips and the movement in her shoulders as she exhaled, told you that the answer was not the one you were hoping to hear.

“Considering the injuries you sustained, along with the twenty-plus years of experience I’ve had researching the brain... the answer is still that it’s highly unlikely, but again, as I’ve said in our previous checkups, the brain is still something we don’t have fully figured out. One day you could wake up and start to recall the things you thought were long gone. Don’t give up Y/N.”

This was how your doctor's appointments always ended. Each time you went in, you hoped to hear something new, but in the end, she always told you the same things in some other variation of words. The truth was, you weren’t exactly sure what answer would satisfy you, but sometimes you wished she would just say the word ‘no’ to answer your question; that way you could begin to move on. But the fact that there was the tiniest bit of hope in her long and drawn out speeches kept you from letting go completely.

…

[1:30 PM KST, four days before the new premiere]

Glancing at the clock on the stove, you hurriedly poured your coffee into a to-go cup. Because of your injured wrist, it rendered your whole left arm useless. And so, everyday tasks like getting the toothpaste on your toothbrush, tying your shoelaces, or making coffee like you were doing right now, ate away at both your time and patience.

Just when you were about to put the lid on, you accidentally knocked the cup with your freshly poured coffee over, causing it to spill all over the counter and produce a steaming pool of liquid on the ground near your feet. Frustratedly, you picked up the cup and threw it in the sink, and a loud bang rang throughout the apartment.

Like clockwork, Lex came bolting into the kitchen to see what you had managed to fail at this time. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked while she panicked and checked your body.

Pushing her hands away, and in a voice that lacked emotion, you said, “I’m fine. I just spilled some coffee. I can clean it up.”

She didn’t listen and began to clean up the dark brown puddle by your feet. “Lex please just stop,” you said firmly, while she continued wiping the ground.

“Lex! Enough!” you yelled causing her to flinch, but by then she was already finished with cleaning up your mess.

As she stood up to face you, she said, “I’m just trying to help Y/N.”

“Yeah I know, but the problem is that you are always helping. Please just let me do things on my own.”

For a few minutes she didn’t say anything and instead looked down at the ground; immediately making you feel bad for losing your temper. You knew that her heart was in the right place, but you just needed some semblance of control, even if it was something as little as cleaning up some spilled coffee.

To avoid any unnecessary argument, you said that you would just ask the driver to pick up some coffee on the way, and walked out of the kitchen without another word.

…

Framed diplomas and other accolades covered the walls, and neutral colours made up the room: ivory, beige, taupe, black, white etc. The walls were painted ivory with white crown mouldings, the carpet was taupe, the furniture you both sat in, black. The only source of vibrant colour came from the view outside the window, and the lonely looking green plant in the corner of the room; to you, it looked like a low-budget sitcom set.

“Y/N? Are you ready to begin today’s session?”

The calming yet disruptive voice of your therapist rang through your ears pulling you back from the endless stream of thoughts and observations that swirled in your head. You spaced out normally, but after the accident you found yourself doing it more often to make sense of the things you were feeling.

Are the things I’m currently feeling real? Or is this just another mood swing? Were the questions you asked yourself almost hourly.

“Uh. Yes,” you said as you nervously tapped away on the armrest of the couch you were seated on.

“Like always, let’s start off easy today. I would just like to remind you, like in all of the eight times we have met previously, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, and if you ever feel yourself starting to get worked up we can move on. Now we have done this exercise twice before…” your therapist continued on while reading the things on her tablet.

It drove you nuts how she would always remind you of things like how many times you’ve met or how many times you’ve done a certain exercise. Of course, you didn’t doubt her or her ability to do her job, after all, she was a trained and licensed professional. But you couldn't the sheer amount of redundancy in these meetings couldn’t have been helping anybody.

“Y/N?” your therapist asked while waving her hand in your general direction.

Sitting up straighter, you quickly reverted your attention back to your therapist. “Sorry, I spaced out again. Can you repeat the question?”

“Has there been anything significant in the last few days? Anything new?”

You didn’t have to think twice, you couldn’t do much and your routine was always the same. “No, not really. Since I’m not allowed to do a lot of things, I mostly stay at home and watch TV, while Lex works. And then when she’s done we go out to eat, go out for a walk, come home, sleep, and do it all over again. Occasionally Jennie and the members come by, and it’s fun… but it never fails to get awkward when one of us is reminded of the accident.”

“What do you mean it gets awkward?”

“Well because I don’t remember, you could imagine I miss out on a lot of the inside jokes. It’s just– there’s no flow in our conversations when they are constantly having to stop and explain. Or there are times where I make a mistake and they all chalk it up to the accident–” You cut yourself off to avoid getting frustrated. Your heart began to beat harder in your chest, you could feel your whole body flare-up in heat, there was a lump in your throat, and tears already welled up in your eyes.

“It’s okay Y/N, take your time. I would still like you to continue. That is if you’re willing.”

After taking in a few deep breaths and agitatedly shifting in your seat once more, you continued. “I feel like I'm suffocating. Physically I’m recovering. However, mentally… I’ve gotten nowhere. It’s almost as if I’m living a life that isn’t mine.”

“And your main goal… is to remember again, correct?”

The word ‘yes,’ was all you could muster.

“Why?”

You looked at her in disbelief, and yet she looked right back at you not realizing the stupidity in her question. Did she really just ask me why I wanted to remember? Has she not been listening these last few weeks? What kind of therapist are you? Surely she’s joking, right?

…

“Why? Pfft. She really asked me why I wanted to remember,” you mumbled to yourself as you walked along a gravel pathway. After leaving your therapist’s office, you went straight to a nearby park to blow off some steam before heading home for the day. Much to the dismay of your security, they took you to the park as you requested and maintained a safe walking distance from you. You wished that they would have stayed in the van, but you were nevertheless thankful that they gave you some breathing room. With everything that happened, you weren’t allowed much.

It was your third lap around the park when you decided that you had enough time to yourself and that you should head back home, but before you could, you paused at the odd sight before you. In the distance, you saw an elderly lady sitting on the ground, and you wouldn’t have thought twice about it if it weren’t for the empty park bench just a few meters away from her. So without further question, you made you way over to see if she needed any help.

When you got closer, you could see what looked like a walking cane on the ground next to her, and after a quick scan, you could deduce that she had fallen. Her hands were visibly scraped and bleeding, one of her ankles swollen, and if not for the dark coloured pants she was wearing, you could see the dust and gravel on the side of her legs. While bending down you asked if she was okay, to which she mumbled something that you couldn’t make out all the while she had a puzzled look on her face. Which right away told you that she didn’t speak or understand a word of English. Looking back at your security you saw that he was already on the phone with who you assumed was emergency services when your attention was quickly brought back to the older woman as you felt her put her hands on your arms.

It took a while but you sat there and kept her company until the paramedics arrived. Although you couldn’t exactly communicate with her, from the look on her face alone as she was being wheeled away, you could tell that she was thankful for your help.

On the way through the park and back to the van, you looked at your bloodstained sleeves. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something eerily familiar about it.

…

Entering your apartment like you had done at least a hundred times before, you locked the door, hung up your coat, kicked off your shoes and headed further inside. Having walked “alone” in the park for nearly two hours, your thoughts were a bit more organized and you felt a little more at peace with yourself. However, that was all quickly cut short when you walked into the kitchen.

At the kitchen table, you saw Lex with her phone held right up against her ear with the help of her shoulder while she frantically scribbled down something on her notepad. With her other hand, she was furiously typing away on her laptop. Though when she looked up and saw you the frantic demeanour she had quickly gone away and was replaced by one that told you she was anything but glad to see you. After saying a few words into her phone, she hung up and slammed it onto the table.

“Where the hell were you?” her tone was noticeably hostile.

Okay. She’s mad. You thought to yourself. You wanted to carefully choose the next words to come out of your mouth, but the death glare she was giving you made you choose impulsively.

“At the park,” was all you said.

“So that’s it? No explanation as to where you were for the last two hours? No call? No text? Are things that easy for you? You know Y/N, I have tolerated a lot these past few days because of the accident and all of the pain that you’ve been experiencing. But if you are going to continue down this path of being stupidly selfish then–”

The way that she was firing questions at you made your head hurt but still, that wasn’t enough to draw you away from her last question. You let out a frustrated laugh at her choice of words. No one really was listening to you after all. Easy? Is that what she said?

“Are you laughing? Do you have any idea how worried I was for you? How many people I’ve called to see if you were with them? How many hours I’ve spent calling every hospital within a 15-kilometre radius? I will never get that time back Y/N! Don’t you understand?”

Just when you were about to say something she held her hand up in a way that told you to shut up, “I’m not done. You’re going to stand there and listen to what I have to say because you don’t seem to give two shits about how much work other people have been putting in these last few weeks. Ethan is doing his best to ensure the investors are happy. I’m doing my job as well as yours. Jennie doesn’t get to come home. Everyone on the team has been busting their ass off for you. Bending over backwards just so that you feel comfortable. And here you are acting like a rebellious teenager, running off alone without telling anybody! Y/N you really need to start growing up.”

“One. I wasn’t alone. If you had simply called my security, you would have been able to find out where I was. And two, do you really think that this is easy for me? I know that it’s been hard for everyone! You don’t think I see it on your faces every time you look at me? You think I wanted to put you through this? I am trying my best, but I just needed some time alone.”

“You. Can’t. Be. Alone!” she enunciated.

“I know!”

“Then why–”

“–I just needed to get away. I’m so tired Lex. Tired of disappointing you, and everyone else when I don’t recall certain things. Tired of having to have everything be explained to me. Tired of feeling like I’m being suffocated. So while I understand that going off without saying anything was dangerous… that time alone did more for me than what the last two weeks of therapy has done.”

It was the first time in a long time where you really had to dive deep and explain all the things you were feeling. Of course, your therapist expected you to do this with her; though that was easier said than done. With Lex, however, it all came out easily; all the pent up frustration and all the things you were afraid to say to a stranger.

“Y/N I understand that, but therapy is good for yo–”

You interrupted once again. “No you don’t Lex! How can you honestly say that you understand? Did you suffer the brain injury? Did you have everything in the past year ripped away from you? Do you have a girlfriend that you look at and don’t remember? The therapy has been helping everyone but me. You and everyone else get to feel reassured knowing I go there to get worked on when in reality it only makes me feel worse.”

The last few words were hard to get out. No matter how many times you swallowed, there was still that persistent lump in your throat. And every time you exhaled, you could feel your chest tighten up and the ache in your ribs intensify. Trying your best to not let it get the best of you, you sat on the floor and slumped against the kitchen counter. At the same time, Lex came around from behind the island, knelt on the ground next to you and rubbed your back.

“I am just trying to help you Y/N. I don’t know of another way to do that. I’m doing all that I’ve been told by the doctors.”

“I know. It’s just frustrating to feel like nothing’s changed. To me, I’m still where I was a year ago. Heartbroken and confused. And it certainly doesn’t help with everyone telling me that I was happy and had all these great things– I just want to remember.”

Lex didn’t say anything after that and neither did you. For the rest of the night, you two sat there on the ground in your kitchen, while she hugged you and let you cry it out on her shoulder.

[9:30 AM KST, three days before the new premiere]

In your dressing room with a towel wrapped around your body, you stood there looking at all the shirts and sweaters that were either folded on the shelves or hung on the racks. There were so many options, yet none of them stood out to you. Turning around you decided to look for a pair of pants in hopes that maybe it would help you decide on a shirt, but instead, your eyes landed on the clothes on the other side of the closet. T-shirts, sweaters, dresses and things like all sorted by colour were neatly stored on the other side.

Your first night home after the accident you stayed up all night looking at all the things that you knew didn’t belong to you. And every morning since then there was always a brief moment where you were confused to find things that weren’t yours. Whether it was her assortment of perfumes and makeup in the bathroom or the very clothes that you found yourself staring at.

After deciding what to wear, you walked out and headed into the kitchen. Not surprisingly, Lex was already seated at the table eating her breakfast. However, what was surprising and in fact made you smile was the fact that she didn’t have your breakfast already laid out for you in the spot next to her. It was baby steps but still progress in letting you have some control.

So you were listening yesterday... thank you. The voice in your head said.

When you finished with the breakfast that you had made for yourself, you got up, put your dirty dishes in the sink and headed to the front door to go to your physical therapy appointment. On your heels, Lex walked with you to the front door.

Babysteps Y/N. She’s trying. Let her say goodbye.

Once you were able to get your shoes on, you stood up and both of you laughed at how out of breath you were just trying to get up. As a habit, you stood there and waited for her to open the door for you.

With a puzzled look on your face you looked at the door and then back at Lex, with a smile on her face she said, “what? You said you wanted independence, so here it is.”

You laughed and shook your head. “By letting me open the door by myself?”

“Precisely.”

“Okay… here I go,” you said as you put your hand on the handle.

But before you could turn it, Lex pulled you in for a hug, rested her head on your shoulder and said, “will you just promise to call or text me if you aren’t coming home right away?”

Pulling away and with a smile, you said, “okay. I will.”

…

Walking down the hallway toward the door of your apartment, you held your once broken wrist in your other hand. Truth be told ever since the doctor took the cast off, you had a hard time letting your wrist be free; guarding it just in case you accidentally bumped into something. You knew that your fear was irrational, after all, he assured you that there was no need to keep wearing a cast or much less a wrist guard. It was healed all the way through, but still, out of habit you couldn’t help but guard your wrist like it was still broken.

Once you got to the door, you practiced what you had done at least a thousand times in physical therapy. In the weeks leading up to this moment, you went over the motions that you did in your everyday life before the accident. Motions that you didn’t have to think twice about. Such as twisting locks, tying shoelaces, pouring liquid into various other cups without spilling, and even opening doors like you were doing now. Each of them you did at least a hundred times a day, which you figured was probably why you were so frustrated when you had to come home and do them all again.

Very slowly and carefully, you clasped your fingers around the metal handle, and to your surprise, it twisted on its own. As a reflex, you pulled your whole hand back. Before you could question why the door handle had turned on its own, the door opened and revealed Jennie? Why are you here?

For some reason, the sight of her caused a sudden hitch in your breathing. Both of you stood there staring at each other, frozen on opposite sides of the doorframe. When you looked her up and down, you saw that she was holding onto a pair of white shoes. Immediately taking notice of what you were looking at, she held them up and said, “I needed these for the dance practice video we’re going to film today. I forgot that I had left them here.”

Still, for some reason, you couldn’t say anything and instead nodded all the while giving an awkward smile. Smooth Y/N. Just smooth.

“You got your cast off?” Jennie asked while also grabbing a hold of your arm.

Tenderly she ran her fingers over your wrist in the same motion you were doing just a few minutes earlier. And for a moment you allowed yourself to remain still with her hands wrapped around your arm and her fingertips making small circular motions over your skin. Her touch was soft and gentle, almost enough to make you forget just how long you two were standing there. Impulsively and like a child with a toy, you pulled your hand out of hers and held it with your other hand.

Nice job Y/N. Why are you so nervous? Relax! The voice in your head screamed.

“Uh– yeah. The doctor said I didn’t need it anymore. I’m all healed,” you said as you smiled, trying to distract her from what you had just done. During the last few words to come out of your mouth, a look of sadness flashed across her face. It was fleeting, but you caught it anyway.

She didn’t smile or seem the least bit happy like she was a few seconds ago, which made you question whether you had done something wrong. There was yet another awkward silence and before you could ask her about it, she said, “well… I should get going, the members are waiting for me in the van downstairs. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She must have seen the look of confusion all over your face, which prompted her to clarify what she meant. “At the party?”

“Right.” And with that held the door open while the both you traded places.

“Jennie?” you asked, immediately causing her to stop in her tracks. She looked back at you expectantly.

“Good luck with your recording today. I hope you guys can knock it out on your first tr–” as the words were coming out, you didn’t notice but she had moved closer and threw her arms around you in a hug. Automatically as a force of habit, you stiffened up in order to shield your wrist, which probably gave Jennie the wrong idea that you were uncomfortable with her hugging you. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The hug was tight and made you feel secure. “You don’t have to say anything back, but I just wanted to say that I missed you,” she whispered.

Before you knew it the hug was over, and she was already making her way back to the elevators, not giving you the time to reply. Either that or you really did take too long; with Jennie, it was difficult to discern whether seconds or minutes had gone by. The way in which you two locked eyes just before she got on the elevator left you frozen just outside your apartment door, even long after she left.

…

[6:30 PM KST, two days before the new premiere]

As the van you were riding in came to a stop, you opened your eyes and sat up straighter in your chair. Through a quick glance out of the window next to you, you could see that you were stopped in front of the gates at YG. There was a loud buzzing sound, and after a few seconds, the van lurched forward causing you to grab onto the armrests of your chair, but it wasn’t long before you yet again came to another stop.

Looking around you could see that there were several other vans identical to yours waiting outside in a line just before the front door. Too many in fact if each van was responsible for dropping off one person, there would surely be too many people still. YG told you to expect a big party for the release of your documentary, but there was no way you could have expected this.

Soon your van came to a stop at the front of the building, and once the door of the van was fully open, you waited for Lex to exit first and then did the same. On the way out one of the security guards standing outside extended his hand out for you to grab and steady yourself, which you gladly took and thanked him for.

Finally sheltered by the walls of YG, it was an odd sight to see the place so empty in light of all the commotion going on outside. In your head you questioned where all the people dropped off ahead you were when suddenly there were muffled sounds of music that could be heard from above, immediately answering your question. Shortly after stepping inside, you were being ushered to the elevators by some staff.

On the way up you nervously toyed with the bracelet around your wrist, so much that Lex took notice and grabbed your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. It had been a while since you were last in a room with more than ten people at a time, so for a party of this size to be your first time in a long time, you were rightfully nervous. Before you knew it, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened up to a crowd of people; none of which you could recognize.

Just as Lex was being pulled away by some of the other staff, you told her to go off and enjoy herself. “Go and have fun. I’ll come find you if I get uncomfortable.”

The truth was that you were already uncomfortable, but after your argument the other day you felt bad for what you had put Lex through, and so if feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable was the price you had to pay for her to have a good time, you were more than willing to suffer it. You looked around to find someone you knew, but instead, your eyes landed on the bar across the room.

On your way to the bar, you looked at all the monitors and screens that were scattered around the room. It made sense, technically this was a viewing party, but no one ever actually watched the film at these kinds of things. Taking the time to look at the screens you noticed some of them were playing parts of your documentary, while others had the pictures of you and the members playing like a slideshow. God, I really need a drink.

“I’ll one have of these please,” you shouted to the bartender as you pointed to one of the drinks on the menu. The music was so loud that you were forced to.

After he had heard you and got around to making your drink, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around you saw that it was a woman who you didn’t recognize, but then again how could you, when the vast majority of the people you had become friends with here had been wiped from your memory.

“I’m sorry, di–do I know you?” you asked politely. You hated that you had to start off every conversation with that these days, but it was necessary.

Before telling the bartender that she wanted whatever you were having too, she leaned in closer and said, “no I don’t think we’ve met before. You just looked like the only friendly and sober one here. Should I know you?”

You laughed and hesitated on whether you should tell her this party was, in a way, for you. Ultimately, you decided against it and let the conversation naturally flow.

While she sipped on her drink she looked around the room rarely ever looking at you, and whenever she had to say something, she would lean in closer to your ear in order to speak over the loud music. Through your conversation, you two talked over topics like working for YG, your jobs and moving to South Korea. Since you had forgotten, you told her honestly that you couldn’t offer her much. But what you could do was recommend all the things you had done in the last few weeks. Which even then was very few, but still included some restaurants you and Lex frequented and even the park that you walked through the other day.

For once your conversation didn’t revolve around your accident, and it was nice. On top of all that, she didn’t give you that same look of pity you had become so used to getting these past few weeks. You were having such a good time that it was probably a good half hour into your conversation when you had noticed she had gotten too close for comfort. Part of you wanted to think nothing of it and brush it off as friendliness, but the other part of you felt guilty that you hadn’t noticed. After all, you were still dating Jennie. Right?

You two were just about to exchange numbers when you felt a pull on the arm that was furthest from her. When you turned to see who it was, you saw that it was Lex and after offering the woman an apology for the interruption, you leaned in closer toward Lex to hear what was so important. “Y/N I love you. You know that. But sometimes you make me want to just strangle you. Wrap up this conversation. You’re hurting Jennie.”

Lex pulled away and gave the both of you a polite smile, and if it weren’t for the things she had just said, you would have thought everything was fine. You knew it wasn’t Lex’s intention to hurt you, but the last words to come out of her mouth stung and immediately made you feel bad. Forgetting the woman next to you, you looked around the room to look for Jennie, but she was nowhere to be found. As if she could tell what you were doing, she pulled you in once again and said, “she’s no longer in the room. Wrap this up and I will take you to her.”

Turning around swiftly, you were just about to tell the woman that you had something to take care of and that it was nice talking to her, but somehow she understood and let you go. While walking away you heard her shout, “wait,” which prompted you and Lex both to stop in your tracks. Turning around one last time, you watched as she confusedly looked at one of the screens and then back to you, “you’re Y/– this party is for you?”

“It is,” you managed to say before turning around and being forcefully pulled away.

After getting off the elevator, you were able to recognize where Lex had planned to bring you with the help of the familiar artwork that hung on the walls. If your guess was correct, you would end up at your office. Since the documentary was finished, there was no reason for you to use it, but after the accident, Lex took you to see it once.

Both of you stood in front of the door and looking through the frosted glass you saw that the lights were turned off. In a serious tone and just before leaving, Lex said, “I’m going to go meet up with the rest of her members, but you two should talk. You owe her that much Y/N.”

Lex was gone and you were standing alone in the hallway, you twisted the door handle and walked in. It was dark in the room, but after blinking a few times to adjust to the lack of light, you could see that Jennie was leaning against the couch. In her hands, you could see what looked like a framed photo. Once inside the room, she placed the photo down next to her, wiped her face with the back of her hands and looked up at you for the first time.

Shit. You were crying. Good job Y/N. Good job.

“Jennie I’m sorry,” you said, not wanting to move any closer. She didn’t say anything and so you continued, “it was never my intention to hurt you. I’m just– I’m not sure what it is that you want from me.”

“I want you to stop flirting with people that aren’t me! I want you to remember Y/N!”

“You don't think I want that too? Do you really think that I enjoy putting you and everyone else through all this pain? And as for speaking to that girl, I’m sorry if you mistook that for flirting. I really am. But I refuse to apologize for simply having a good time. For once it was nice to have someone treat me normally, and not as if I’m some sort of project. Something that needs to be worked on, or fixed.”

Your tone was more condescending than what you had wanted, but you couldn’t help it. Enough was enough, and you were done with being reminded of the injury and what it had taken from you.

“Is there something else that I can do for you? What can I do? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me you love me again. I want our mornings where we go back and forth over who gets ready first. I want the rushed lunch dates we used to sneak out on in the middle of practice. I want our routine dinners with the rest of the members and Lex. I want– I want us, Y/N. Where we used to be.”

For a moment you stood there to take in and internalize everything about what she had just said. Every aspect: from the words she used, the tone, down to the pauses she took. The desperation and sadness in her voice are what got you to soften up, though as much as you wanted to give in to what she wanted, how could you?

How do you tell a girl that you don’t remember loving, much less remember, that you love her? How do you look at the girl that everyone says you were madly in love with... and tell her that you don’t remember a single thing that happened between you two? How do you avoid crushing the heart of someone who was very clearly in love with you? The answers to all these questions were different, but among them was a common theme; all of which would end up hurting Jennie.

Enough time had passed to the point where Jennie mistook your silence for not wanting to continue with this conversation and headed for the door.

“We should get back to the party. I’m sure everyone is looking for us,” she said just before leaving the room.

It didn’t sit well with you to let her walk away from your conversation because it was far from over, but it simply wasn’t the right time. What also didn’t help was that you didn’t have the answers, and what she wanted, you couldn’t give her. In theory, you could have, but your heart wouldn’t have been in it and deep down you knew that was unfair to the both of you.

The rest of the night was impossible to enjoy, and so after finding YG you thanked him for the party and told him that you had to go home because you were feeling unwell. He understood and signalled for one of his staff to take you home. Not being in the right headspace as well as not having the energy to explain what happened, you told Lex that you would be heading home early, and convinced her to stay.

When you got back home and were settled in bed, you ran over countless scenarios in your head until you fell asleep. In the end, it all boiled down to two options: working with what you had, or letting her go.

Wouldn’t you be better off without me? I wouldn’t be there to cause you any more pain, and you could move on. If I were half the amazing girlfriend you claim I was, I would do this for you, right? Set you free so that you could be happy?

[11:30 AM KST, the day before the new premiere date]

Your phone buzzed loudly on your bedside table instantly waking you up. Blindly smacking the surface of the table, your hand finally landed on it. With your eyes still closed, you unplugged it and brought it closer to your face. Pressing the side button on the side and with one eye open, you saw a text from Jennie. Shooting up in your bed, you unlocked your phone and read the message.

Jennie: are you up? can you meet me at this park?

*Jennie has dropped a pin*

You: yes. right now?

Jennie: in 10? I only have an hour lunch.

You: okay.

…

“Damn that’s spicy,” you said as you put your food down on the bench next to you and tugged at the collar of your shirt. Not only did you feel the spice spread like wildfire in your mouth, but it eventually began to spread down through your neck and into your chest giving you instant heartburn.

“Did you also manage to forget that you don’t like spicy food too?” Jennie laughed as she handed you a water bottle she had just finished opening.

While taking the bottle and chugging the cold water that was inside of it, you looked over and through the tears in your eyes, you watched as she laughed in your suffering. The spice only seemed to get worse and it hurt like hell, but all you could think of was how good it felt in the moment to have made her laugh instead of cry.

When you had arrived at the park, you were surprised to see Jennie with no security. She sat there all alone on one of the park benches with the food that you were now devouring in her lap. And with the way that everything had gone the night before, the last thing you thought you two would be doing was having a picnic in the park. So far you were genuinely having a good time, but inevitably when you thought about what you two still had left to discuss, it loomed over like a dark cloud. Keeping you from being able to bask in the sunlight and happiness that seemed to radiate off of your current company.

Whether it was one of the side effects of your injury or your surmounting impatience, you impulsively asked Jennie why she had asked you to come to a park out of all places. Desperately, you searched for an answer in one of her many facial expressions. When what looked like some sort of satisfaction covered her face, you were surprised to say the least.

“Right. You wouldn’t remember it. This is your move Y/N. I’m pulling a you, on you…”

A move?

You gave her a questioning look to which she replied with, “the last time we argued… we had a screaming match in your hotel room, which resulted in you having to sleep in Lex’s room. And literally, the next day you brought me to a park– an amusement park of all places to work things out. What did you say to me again?”

It took a few minutes but you could tell the exact moment when she remembered because she sat up straighter and smiled, “you told me you picked that place so that we would be forced to have a mature conversation, and if not, then we would be forced to look like ‘two idiots screaming at each other at an amusement park.’”

“And did we argue?” you asked.

“We did not.”

You believed her, not because she had no reason to lie, but because it certainly sounded like something you would do. I wish I could remember Jennie. I really do.

“Jennie, I don’t want to argue anymore.”

“Neither do I.”

“I thought about it yesterday, and seeing you that upset… I never want to be the cause of that. So it is because of that reason that I’ve decided to let you go.”

You had more to say, but because she was so silent and hadn’t moved in the slightest, you paused to see if she was even listening.

“Just be happy Jennie. Enjoy the rest of your tour being carefree. I don’t want us–or me, to hold you back. I don’t remember anything so don’t feel bad for getting to walk away. It’s a free pass,” you joked to make light of the situation.

You were relieved to hear her laugh, but listening closer, you quickly gathered that it wasn’t because things were funny, and instead were out of frustration. “Out of all the things your brain allowed you to forget. Events, people, certain habits… you didn’t lose the one thing I hate the most.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, wanting to indulge her.

“Your tendency to run when things get difficult. You did it with Irene and now you’re doing it with me. How do you do that? Go off and just decide?”

While she moved to dab the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her sweater, she mumbled something else, but it was just enough for you to hear it. “Why did you have to make me love you?” she asked.

It broke your heart to hear it in the way she said it. It would have broken anyone’s, but it only reiterated the reason why you decided to end things. There was no reason to fall deeper and suffer the consequences. No reason to keep hurting her this way.

“I just– I don’t want to keep going around in this cycle. Every night when I go to bed, I replay the movie that is us. I break up with my girlfriend back home, I come to Korea to work with you, I meet you, and then it ends. There is no plot. There is no love story. There is no happy ending. Just unnecessary pain at the end.”

In the last sentence, you could feel the tightness in your chest return, and so you stood up. Jennie remained seated on the bench.

“Y/N but no one is hurting! You are doing that all on your own by pushing us away. You’re just confused, it’s the injury.”

There was no getting through to her either. Everyone was either dismissive of the things you felt or made excuses on your behalf. Somehow and someway it was always because of the injury. It was frustrating enough to feel like people were constantly trying to piece you back together, but what was even more frustrating was the invalidation you had to face every time you made a decision. Once again, making you feel as if your life was no longer yours.

“I’m hurting!” you yelled causing Jennie to flinch. You tried your best to not let it get to you, but it was too late. You slipped. You dropped the ball. You lost it.

Frustratedly, you closed your eyes and ran your hands through your hair, all the while you paced in the spot in front of the bench. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to–it’s just so frustrating when no one understands... Out of all the questions I get asked in a day it’s never the right ones. When the doctor asks where it hurts, I hesitate and point to my ribs when in reality it hurts everywhere. I must be the only patient in the world that can’t tell the doctor exactly where it hurts. I mean how do you point to something that doesn’t quite exist, an intangible injury? I wake up, take my meds, go to therapy, come back home to watch videos, and do it all over again the next day. Nothing is coming back and it is killing me trying to get back to where I was.”

Amid your long and drawn out speech, Jennie got up and stood directly in front of you. She put her hands on your face and tried her best to lock eyes with you. While she held your face steady in her hands, she pleaded, “just try for a little bit longer Y/N. If nothing is helping then let me take you to all the places we’ve been to. We can do it all over again. Please.”

She was grasping at straws if you could even call it that. After all, there was nothing there. No relationship holding you together.

Taking her hands in yours, you removed them from your face and stepped back. It was already hard to breathe, and her holding onto you in this way only made it more difficult.

“But don’t you get it? I can’t give you what you want. You look at me and see this person that you fell in love with, but when I look at you I see a stranger. Realistically, how is this going to work if I don’t remember loving you? If you have an answer to that then I’ll do whatever it is you ask.”

It was only a few seconds later when she had something to say.

“Then don’t remember. Forget about what I asked for. Let’s just– start fresh. Give me a month to make you fall for me again. We can go back and do all the things we did in the past, or if that’s not what you want then we can do something else. Just give me a month, and if at the end of it you still don’t want this– then I’ll let you let me go. Even if that’s not what I want. One month Y/N.”

At every possible turn, she had an answer for you, almost as if she knew exactly what you would say. To be honest, you weren’t expecting her to have an answer right away, and that alone told you that she had thought about this from every possible angle. Which was something you thought you yourself could say until now. Turning around to look at her, you stood there completely dumbfounded; she gave you a solution that never once crossed your mind.

Could we really work things out? Would it be so bad to try one last time?

Her phone rang just then, and you couldn’t have been more thankful that it did. There was a lot to think about and you didn’t have an answer for her. Before you knew it, both a van and security escort showed up to take her back to YG. Even when you told her you needed more time to think about it, she was still reluctant to get inside the van. You two needed to figure things out quickly, at least before she left for tour again.

…

[12:30 PM KST, day of the premiere]

“Y/N! The van is outside, we have to go now or we’re going to be late!” Lex shouted as she came into your room, pausing at your door.

You sat still at the foot of your bed just staring at the ground. For the past hour, you looked down at the ground and contemplated. It was release day, and you should have been happier but the thought of what questions you might be asked by the press caused you great stress.

When you saw something move in your peripheral, you looked up and saw Lex standing there. She looked stressed out of her mind, and you could understand why. The last time you sat on a panel, the press had asked you a question that was a little too close to home. At least that’s what Lex told you the night before when she coached you the night before. When you got home from the park, Lex took you through some of the questions she thought they might ask. After all, how could you answer questions about something you didn’t remember filming? And so, a lot more preparation was necessary this time around.

…

[1:30 PM KST, day of the premiere]

If everyone could take their seats, the press event will begin soon. Please have your questions and other equipment ready as to not cause any delay.

For ten minutes, that same message repeated over and over again in both Korean and English. In the area before the stairs leading onto the stage, you and the members were surrounded by a dozen other people while they frantically checked each of your earpieces. Since the event was held for both Korean and international media outlets, translations would be made through an earpiece.

When the message stopped playing, you saw one of the stage manager's gesture for you all to begin walking on stage. In order, it was Jisoo, Jennie, you, Rosé and then Lisa. The moment Jisoo stepped on stage in full view of the media was when you heard the camera shutters begin to go off, and saw the bright white flashes of the cameras flood your current view.

For a few moments, you and the members stood in front of the enlarged version of the official documentary poster, occasionally turning to smile at a different section of the media. The constant flashing kept you from being able to see their faces and even hurt your eyes, but it eventually all came to a halt and you were all seated in the chairs placed in front of you.

Luckily the person leading the event gave you all a few seconds to gather yourselves just before answering questions. Once again, she reiterated the rules and even added a little bit about making sure that their questions were strictly related to the documentary and not of personal nature. When she was done reading the rules, the event began.

“This question is for Y/N. Is there a particular point in the documentary that you want the audience to pay close attention to? Or really just a general takeaway that you want to make clear?”

“I don’t want to give too much away, but there is a beach scene in Jennie’s episode that really captures the main idea or purpose behind this whole project. Which was to show you that as much as the life of a “celebrity” is idealized, there are also a lot of harsh realities and downsides that a lot of people don’t notice. You will see that they [Blackpink] all work incredibly hard, sometimes to the point of it being unhealthy. But at the end of it, if you [audience] were paying attention… you would see that as a result of going through the good and the bad, that they are in a way, like sisters.”

Satisfied with your answer, the reporter sat down and another one was picked.

“This question is for the members of Blackpink. Since the beginning, it has been said that you each have an individual episode that focuses on you as individuals followed by a final episode that focuses on you as a group. That being said, did you guys have a personal favourite among all the episodes? Is it your own possibly?”

Jisoo: I like the episode where it focuses on all of us. Well it might be true that there is a lot of content centred around us as a group, Y/N was able to capture us in a whole different light.

Jennie: I would have to agree with Jisoo. There have been plenty of things that have been released, but this documentary is nothing like we have done before.

Rosé: I would have to agree with Jisoo and Jennie. My favourite episode is the last one. It is best when we can all stay together.

Lisa: I like the one about me. No, I’m kidding, I like the last one as well. Y/N did a great job of showing our dynamic as a group.

The media laughed at Lisa’s joke and seeing how she was normally, it probably wouldn’t be the last one either.

The next reporter to be chosen was a woman. With her notes and pen in hand, she asked, “This question is for Y/N. What is one thing you are most proud of now having finished with this documentary?”

“I would say that I am most proud of how well the whole thing turned out, considering the nature of this industry as well as it being my first time taking on a project of this size. If you look back at all my previous work, they’re documentaries that are no longer than three-hours long. Whereas this one is just short of five hours. So obviously you could imagine there were concerns about keeping the audience engaged throughout the whole thing. But I will say, having watched it over and over again, I couldn’t have been more wrong, and I hope that you all enjoy watching it.”

No more than a few minutes after answering, yet another reporter was chosen. They had a badge around their neck that had ET written on it in big letters. While adjusting your mic, in the corner of your eye you saw Jennie fiddling with her hands underneath the table and her leg bouncing up and down. She seemed oddly nervous.

“Are you okay?” you whispered away from the mic.

But she didn’t get to answer as the reporter began to read their question. You didn’t take your eyes off of Jennie until the reporter mentioned that the question was for you. Hearing your name over the loudspeakers that hung above you reverted your attention back to the reporter in the crowd. Since you were unable to console her, without looking over at her, you blindly placed your right hand over hers. Instantly, her fingers clasped around your hand, and her leg stopped bouncing up and down.

“A month ago in a vague statement released by Universal, they cited that an accident involving one of their directors, which was assumed to be you, was the cause for the delay of the documentary. There were very few news reports and even some speculation on the legitimacy of that statement. Some even went as far as to report that the delay was actually due to the project not being finished on time. Can you clear all that up today by speaking on all that happened? Can you talk about the accident?”

This was the exact reason why Lex wanted to prepare you the night before. No matter how many rules were set in place, the media could easily just ignore those and ask whatever they wanted. It was messed up, but you quickly found out the hard way that that was the nature of this industry. The media, a bunch of piranhas, while you were the bait.

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to recall the statement that Lex drilled into your head. And for the most part, you stuck to it, but with the blatant disrespect for your privacy, you added just a little bit more to your answer.

“For logistical reasons as well as the fact that my recovery depends so much on not rehashing those details, I refuse to speak about the accident. What I will make clear though, is that the release was most definitely not due to falling behind on schedule. In fact, I will say that those rumours are actually quite insulting to the people who have worked hard on this project alongside myself. It’s very easy to make judgements, but what you guys certainly don’t see on the outside looking in, were the countless hours and immense amount of stress that was put on the employees that work either for me or for Universal when we were forced to delay. So if there is anyone to blame, I would ask that you blame me and not the people I work with. If it weren’t for them, we would not be here at all.”

After the last few words left your mouth, the reporter that initially asked the question, sat down in their seat clearly defeated in their intent to throw you off. 1-0, Y/N. The next few questions that were asked were for the members which you were thankful for as it gave you the time to rest and drink some water. Being nervous, combined with being under all the bright lights not only caused you to sweat but also made your throat feel like it was made of sandpaper.

When it came to the last question, every reporter in the stands before you threw their hands up in a rush to be picked. However, a young-looking reporter who remained seated at the very front was chosen. His question was for you, and by the tremor in his hand as well as the stuttering in his voice, you could tell that he was nervous.

“What do you plan to do now that this documentary is over? Did you have another project lined up? If so, could you offer us some details or any hints in advance? Thank you.”

You smiled at his ‘thank you.’ Out of everyone that asked a question today, none of them said those words, and so you appreciated it. To repay his small, yet still kind and meaningful gesture, you thought about repaying him with an answer that would surely be worthy of a few clicks on whatever article he would later be in charge of writing. Unsure of what you were going to say, you pushed back on your mic and sat back in your chair, taking a few minutes to look all around the room.

Before you were the eager and hungry-looking press. Off to the side was Lex, who had a mix of both a worrisome and a questioning look on her face. Beside you to your left was Rosé and Lisa, who gave you reassuring smiles to which you gave back. And then to your right, both Jennie and Jisoo.

When your eyes locked with Jennie’s, she smiled back at you, and you knew then exactly how to answer the question.

With your head turned away from the media and your hand shielding your lips, you asked Jennie, “a month you said?”

“What?” she asked, looking unsure if you were asking her.

You smiled and let out a small laugh, “last I checked it was me with the memory issue... Yesterday you said that you only needed a month to make me fall for you again. Is that all you need?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just watch.”

After clearing your throat, you smiled and pulled the mic back closer toward your body. “Over these last few years, I have been so fortunate to have landed a career doing the one thing that I only ever saw as a hobby, and in a field that I could have only dreamt of being a part of. For the last eight years in a row I have filmed the lives of others, and greatly enjoyed the things I’ve been able to experience as well as the people I have met along the way. But somewhere in those last few years I found myself starting to dislike– and even resent the idea of having to film. That being said, I have decided to take a break. I do not have any other projects lined up, and even if I did I would decline the offer. As for your question on what I plan to do next, for the next month I have decided to stay alongside this one right here and follow through with whatever she has planned for us. For now, consider me retired. I am done with living my life through a lens.”

Just as you were done with answering, the media in the room went crazy. They were shouting for further clarification, but the event was over and you were already being escorted off the stage along with the rest of the members. For the first time in a long time, you felt the pressure on your chest begin to subside and the heavy weight you carried on your shoulders lifted off.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: A Helping Hand {Headcanon}***

Jason Momoa x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, Fluff, SMUT

Words: 2.1k

***Loosley Edited/Proofread***

Have you seen Jason’s fingers? Have you? Have you taken a good look at this Hawaiian God’s fingers? Jason stands at six feet four inches. He weighs over two hundred pounds and he is all rock-hard chiseled muscle, and pure charisma and charm.

Sitting with the other members of his team that charisma and charm were on full display. This meeting was a monthly brief to discuss Jason’s schedule, potential business deals, incoming roles, and other tidbits that impacted his career. 

You finished your portion of the meeting as his stylist. You went over every important function for the next month and his schedule as it pertained to your access to him. You sat across from him in the leather seat when you were finished. Jason had his fingers steepled under his chin as he kept his eyes glued to you.

For business meetings like these, he liked to put his long bi-colored hair into a manageable man bun. It was your suggestion, one meant to play with his look and the messages he sent with that look.

Your job was to make him look good at all times. In the three years, you’d been his stylist you hadn’t failed at that job not even once. He always looked amazing, good enough to eat.

An hour later everyone shook hands and prepared to leave while having a little small talk. You had things to do so you slipped out of the conference room and walked down to your office. Once inside you began arranging the deliveries of clothes you’d gotten just that morning. Your office looked like a bomb went off in a closet. To the outside eye, it looked like chaos but to you, it was chaotic organization.

As you draped pants, button downs, belts, scarves and other garments over the long table to the right of the room you got on a video call with your apprentice who was currently scouting some new pieces for you. you gave the okay on the pieces you liked while remaining focused on your agenda for the day. You were so wrapped up in your work you weren’t aware of anything else.

“How do you find anything in here?” Jason stood by the door with an amused grin on his face. Setting your side of the video call dark you turned to him and gave him a small smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is completely organized.” Jason scoffed and casually locked the door before he walked to you. you look back to your phone to see the next few items your apprentice posted and quickly assessed them and decided. 

“I think I’ll need more convincing on that outfit you sent to the house last night.” His voice is deep, rough and the spark that turned you on. He was behind you, you could feel his presence.

You tapped mute on your end but before you turned he pressed his body against you. You weren’t expecting it and it makes you moan. Jason wraps his hand around you to rest his palm right at your pubis.

“I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you all morning.” You know it’s true. Every move you made you felt his eyes on you. Every circle you made around the room you felt the heat of his pupils burning off the clothes you had on.

“Maybe you should have tried harder.” You tried to walk away but he held you steady and firm then you felt his lips at the nape of your neck. You stifled your moan by sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“You mean as hard as you’re trying right now to pretend you don’t want me?”

Damn him, you thought. Jason grazed his teeth on your skin before he gently bit your neck. You couldn’t fight the moan and a small mewl escaped you. You could feel Jason’s smile before he sucked your skin sending goosebumps across your body. 

“Jason, we can’t. Not here.”

He knew how you felt about keeping some form of professional boundaries between you. You’d worked together for the last three years but were only intimate for the last year on and off. Every time your bodies came together you always said it wouldn’t happen again until it did.

Jason pressed his hardening member on your ass, and you groaned. “Shit. You know we can’t.” It was a whine; he was not playing fair.

“We can. We’ve been together for a little over a year Y/N, you can’t just keep taking me when you feel like it here and there. We’re past that.” This was not the first time he’d brought this up, but it was the first time he’d done it this directly.

“Do you want me, Y/N? Before you answer just know I can read your body. I can hear it. I’ve gotten very good at listening to your body.” His lips were at your ear and every so often they brushed against you, tempting you to speak your truth. “Tell me, Y/N. Do you want me?”

The words hitched in your throat, you couldn’t say no, that was a lie, but you were reluctant to say yes. Jason turned you to face him pressing his pelvis onto you and gazing deeply into your eyes. He softly caressed your cheek then down to your chin before he tipped it up. His lips brushed yours then brushed your chin and down to your throat. You moaned again.

“Tell me babygirl.” Jason’s hand dipped under the leather pencil skirt you wore. When you felt his thick digits graze your pussy you gasped and tossed your head back.

“You’re already so wet.” You bit your bottom lip and enjoyed his fingers as they coaxed your body to give in. At this rate, he wouldn’t need to coax much longer.

“Let me give you a helping hand.” Jason’s thigh slipped between your legs hoisting you up onto the table. The split in your skirt gave him the needed access to your body. Jason pinched your sex sending a jolt through you making you jerk back dropping to your elbows. He does it two more times and each time you open your thighs wider and wider.

“You’re so wet.” Jason slipped your panties to the side and swirled his thumb around your clit. You moaned and arched backward savoring the sensations he was giving you. 

“Fuck, Jason.” Any restraint you had was gone once you felt him pinch your clit. It was throbbing before, but you were able to bear it, but now dear God you were way past getting over it. You needed a release.

Your body writhed atop the desk as the heat in your body increased. Jason began to move his hand from between your legs but you grabbed it and kept it in place. Locking eyes with him you bit your bottom lip and began moving his finger around your clit.

“Right there.” A mischievous smirk spread across Jason’s lips and the next second your legs were spread even wider.

“You got this. Take it.” His encouragement was the sexiest thing. You didn’t need any more encouragement. You gripped his hand and singled out his three fingers and swirled them around your clit. Each circle they made sent shivers through you and each shiver had you moving your body like a wave in the ocean. 

You ebbed and flowed your body to the imaginary sound of music you were hearing. It was a soundtrack for a race, a race of pleasure. You felt Jason’s need jam into your thigh and unexpectedly it made you want more. You lowered his hand and when they lined with your opening his eyes left yours and locked onto your core. 

“Jesus you’re going to be the death of me,” Jason groaned out, his voice was gruff and dangerously deep.

“Then die happy, fuck me.”

With a long groan, he sank one finger into your depths. You softly moaned. It wasn’t enough. 

“More?” You nodded giving him the answer he wanted.

“Ask me nicely.” 

“Please baby, more. I need to feel your fingers inside of me.” It wasn’t begging, it was pleading.

Jason hissed as he sunk another digit in your heat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Jason slowly plunged his fingers in and out of your sopping core. It was sheer torture--torture that you refused to take. Again, you grabbed his hand and plunged a third finger inside and proceeded to use his fingers to bring yourself the pleasure you wanted. 

Your moans filled the room in seconds, and they tumbled from you one after the other. You didn’t care if anyone could hear. You didn’t care if someone was standing right outside the door with their ear pressed to it. You didn’t care if everyone knew you were fucking your boss. At this point, you were ready for the world to know.

“Fuck, Jason. I wanna come! I wanna come! Make me come, baby!”

You didn’t know if it was him or yourself who plunged his fingers faster and deeper inside of you. You didn’t care. In between your moans and pants you heard how wet you were. The “slosh” and “squelch” sound only fueled your desire for him.

“Yes, Yes, Yes!” One of your hands slapped to your breast and squeezed your nipple through your blouse and that was when you felt him quickly flick your clit. The added sensation was too much and your body shook. You could feel your orgasm pushing its way through you. 

“Fuck me! Don’t stop!”

“Right there, you like that? Are you coming for me, sweetheart?” Your head nodded profusely as you babbled incoherently.

“Come for daddy. Show me whose pussy this is. Come all over these fingers!”

Just like that, you let go of whatever you were holding onto and just let the pleasure take over and do to you what it wanted. You screeched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head what triggered your convulsion. 

Before you could scream any louder Jason crushed his lips to yours dissolving the screams you let loose. His fingers didn’t still not for a second, he continued to plow through you giving you a never-ending orgasm, a never-ending wave of pleasure and heat that you felt as if you couldn’t take anymore. 

You began to see stars behind your eyes, stars of every color known to the color wheel. Your lungs felt burned and your mouth was dry and all you were able to get out were rasps.

“I ca—I can’t—I can’t baby.” You clamped your thighs together hoping to slow his actions to give yourself a needed break. You were sensitive everywhere, but you wanted more from him.

“Jason—.” Your hand met his crotch and moaned when you felt the class F weapon he was concealing.

“You want this dick?”

Again, you nodded as you clumsily tried to undo his pants to free him. Every attempt you made was a fail mostly because you had no coordination in your spent condition, and Jason moving away to avoid your hands.

“Do—you—want—this—dick?” With his last word your hand wrapped around his thickness forcing a moan from him. 

“Yes, I want it. I want your dick so bad baby. Please let me have it. Please!” Now you were begging.

A smile spread across his face and you knew he was up to something. Jason lowered himself to you, hovering over your body looking into your eyes.

“The only way you get this dick is if you finally admit what we are. Say the words.”

You should have seen this coming, but you didn’t. He’d planned this. This was his goal.

“Say the words, Y/N.” Jason rubbed his cock across your soaking core sending every logical thought out your head. The man was a master in pleasure torture. It didn’t help that he knew everything you liked, everything that made your body sear. 

He smiled again and you felt the tip of his need stretch you. your jaw dropped and everything in you said, “fuck it”.

“Fine. I’m yours, you’re mine. No more hiding. You and me.”

Jason slowly sank into your heat inch by inch. “You and me. Don’t you ever forget it!” With that, he snapped his hips forward sinking balls deep inside of you triggering yet another orgasm. The entire office would know now and the only thought in your head as he began to murder your pussy was “oh well.”

[miss-tc-nova]

A SOLDIER’s Memories - Cloud Strife x Fem!Reader Pt 4

AAAAH! I’ve been working on this for a couple weeks writing and deleting and rearranging and editing and aaaahhh! 

Part 4: SOLDIER’s Honor

��               It’s been five years since I lost everything important to me, since I lost my reason for living, and since my promotion to SOLDIER First Class. Now I’m just a glorified dog doing as the master says. Since the disappearance of the top SOLDIERs, I’ve become Shinra’s scapegoat figurehead for the program. They raise me up to symbolize peace and protection and even female empowerment as the first female SOLDIER, encouraging others to join because “even a slum rat can become a hero.” I’m the ultimate underdog who rose to the top, but they’ll never breathe a word of the true story.

                Some pests have been attacking our reactors. This AVALANCHE group is quickly climbing the list of those to that need to be eliminated. What bothers me most is that there are rumors that a rogue First Class SOLDIER is among them, but with so few of us, I can’t think of a single one that’s gone missing without cause.

                The Sector 1 reactor has just been destroyed. Pulling a cloak over my uniform, I plan to do a little investigation. The rebels are supposedly hiding out somewhere in the slums. If I can stop them, I can prevent some serious Shinra retaliation and prevent innocent lives being ruined; at least that’s what the little cat-bot begged of me. With the hood up to hide my face, I take my leave.

                I start at Sector 8, planning to intercept the rebels or work my way back through the sectors in search of them. Shouts and gunfire catch my attention. Bolting in that direction, I find a single man standing among a heap of fallen Shinra officers. The rumors appear to be true: he’s clad in a First Class uniform.

                “I suppose it was to be expected that standard infantrymen wouldn’t stand up to you.” I announce my presence, drawing my favored weapon and revealing my title.

                The man whirls on me, wielding a strikingly familiar sword. Before I can question him, I catch sight of his face and I black out for a second.

                The man grimaces but quickly regains control. His entire body tenses, grip tightening on the hilt. “It’s been a long time. Maybe you can put up a fight.”

                “You…” I utter in disbelief. “They told me you were dead.”

                “Guess they lied.”

                There’s something different about him. Then I see the glow in his eyes; he’s been exposed to mako. The blood drains from my face when I remember that SOLDIERs are monsters born from mako. He adjusts his weapon and I take a step back.

                “I don’t remember you being a coward,” he says. “But maybe they don’t hold standards for us First Class like they used to.”

                “Us?” I repeat, stunned.

                His chin rises in defiance. “That’s right. Ex-SOLDIER. First Class. Same as you, remember.”

                This is nothing like the man I remember; he’s dark and confrontational. Whatever they did to him, they ruined the Cloud that I had fallen in love with. Not only that, but he seems to think he was SOLDIER. My thoughts race as I try to understand what I’ve fallen into.

                “What’s wrong with you? Did you blow up the reactor?” I snarl, frustration and hysteria building. His silence is answer enough. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

                His weapon rises, prepared to strike. “Are you going to fight or not?”

                “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but it’s over.”

                “Sounds like a fight then.”

                Shinra infantry have standard sword training, but tend to have higher proficiencies in firearms; Cloud was no exception. However, mako exposure enhances a person’s physical abilities, including muscle mass; it doesn’t exactly make up for skill though. So while I’m impressed he can even wield the Buster Sword, he’s probably barely a match for even a Third Class SOLDIER. He’s easy to dodge and clearly has yet to build the real muscle to fight with such a heavy weapon for long.

                I divert his sword again, but can hear more yelling in the distance; more troops are on their way. I could put a stop to Cloud’s nonsense right now; take him to the ground and drag him back with me. The problem is what Shinra will do with him when I do. The company is very iffy about its employees, let alone when they leave, but Cloud is not only acting as if he were SOLDIER but he’s also threatening every life here in Midgar. Shinra would destroy him. If I take him back with me now, they’ll kill him for sure.

                Once again, I prevent him from tearing into me. “Listen to me, whatever AVALANCHE is doing, it needs to stop.”

                “I don’t take orders from you.”

                “I’m not playing around! You need to get out of here and stop terrorizing Midgar!”

                Cloud prepares to launch another attempted onslaught, but my reinforcements are just around the corner.

                My weapons drop and Cloud’s brows knit together. I take one last chance to take in his face, to truly process that this is Cloud Strife, and then I pull my hood back up and stride away in a back alley. Before I get out of range, I pause.

                If I get caught here, I’m in deep trouble. But if he gets caught…

                Turning back, I see he’s surrounded. He hasn’t built the stamina to fight with the Buster Sword so the troop surrounding him now has a fair chance of taking him down. He backs away from them and I watch on, fighting with myself about what I’ll do if he’s caught. It’s his greatest fortune that a train passes beneath us, which he takes to make his getaway.

                The Shinra employees disperse and, for a moment, I stare at the spot where I found him, where I discovered that my lost love is still alive.

                Spinning on heel, I storm down the alley. Tears muddle my vision but I continue. Every step is agony; I want to chase him down, throw him against a wall, and scream and cry and demand answers. There’s not a trace of those old feelings—feelings that I’m still suffering over. I’ve been left behind to mourn the past while he’s masquerading as a SOLDIER. I spent years in a self-loathing hell and he just turns up out of nowhere like we’ve never met before. I’m furious and enraged and…sad.

                “Ah, there you are, lassie.” A crowned, bi-pedal feline hops from a ladder. “I was comin’ to warn you that they spotted the terrorists…” At my feet, the cat peers up at me, suddenly not as eager as he was before. “Are you alright?”

                “Did you know?” I manage to get out in a dark tone. Amongst my tsunami of emotions, it’s amazing I can speak to him so evenly. He takes a step back. “Did you know it was him?!” Before he can scurry away, I snatch him up and hold him against the wall by his neck. “Answer me! Or I swear I’ll scrap you for parts and use your pelt to shine my boots!” When he stammers, I scream, “DID YOU KNOW WHO HE WAS?!”

                He frantically waves his hands. “No! I don’t know who they are! All I know is that they call themselves AVALANCHE and that there was a SOLDIER among them!”

                “Don’t toy with me!” I snarl.

                “I swear! I haven’t even seen their faces!” For a robot, he’s pretty genuine. I don’t know if he’s telling me the truth or not, but I won’t get any information out of him like this.

                I attempt to control my sigh, trying to release the anger but hold in the sadness. My fingers uncurl, letting my informant fall to his feet. Mildly ashamed of myself, I turn away from him.

                “So…You know these people?” he asks with caution in his voice.

                “I know the SOLDIER,” I mutter bitterly.

                “Then perhaps there’s a way to negotiate with them. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

                I shake my head. “There’s nothing between us. He’ll try to cut me down if I get in his way.” Each word comes with spurs—painful to say.

                “Come on. I need you to try. There’s talks of how Shinra’s gonna deal with these terrorists and hundreds, maybe thousands, of casualties could happen!” he begs. It’s the same line he got me with last time.

                I don’t know this cat; I don’t know who he works for, who’s controlling him, or what he wants. I came to investigate the reactor bombing because it was in my best interest as well. He says he’s trying to prevent the loss of human life, but he’s got some sort of line in Shinra; he’s got to with information like this. That being said, if there’s even a trace of a connection between him and Shinra, I could be signing my own death warrant.

                “You realize that I’m a Shinra employee, right?” I snap. “Why should I help you? Why the hell would you ask a First Class SOLDIER to try and prevent whatever the hell the top dogs are up to?”

                His ears droop a bit as if I’ve just crushed his hopes with my bare hands. “Because you seemed to be the only SOLDIER with any honor left.”

                Memories of my best friend ranting and stomping about proclaiming the honor of SOLDIER as the most important thing a SOLDIER could have blinks in my brain like a faulty light at the end of a dark road. Guilt is now swimming among the debris of my sanity. It provokes the grief and antagonizes the resentment.

                “You think SOLDIERs have honor?” I retort, the prevalent anger rolling off me. “Well you’re fucking wrong!” He hurries up the ladder, out of my reach. “We’re just mutts doing as the master says before he puts a bullet in our brains for being disobedient! He says heel, we do; he says, roll over, we do; he says kill! We! Do! Doesn’t matter who or when or why!” I shake a fist at him. “Where’s the honor in that?! Huh?! So don’t you fucking try to sweet-talk me into another one of your damn intervention schemes because the last thing I need is to explain that a talking, robot cat convinced me to ruin Shinra’s plans while there’s a fucking gun against my head! Got it! I don’t wanna be part of your little hero game! It’s not gonna turn out in your favor! So leave me out of it!”

                Wanting to get out of this situation, to forget everything, I continue storming down the alley.

                “W-Wait! You’re the only one who can help me!” he calls out.

                “Didn’t you hear me?! Fuck off!” I shout, leaving the cat behind.

                At the Shinra compound, I end up locked in my room where everything and anything is a tool in a vain attempt to relieve this agony. 

[wooziscollarbones]

Diamond Supernova; Pt 1

in which hansol learns that mingyu’s ideas are stupid

Pairing: Vernon/S.Coups/Woozi Rating: PG-13/NC-17 Length: Multichapter Warnings: Language Part: One/? Stars shine brightest right before they explode.In which S.Coups is a pretty popular undergound rapper and Hansol learns that your idols aren’t always what you expect. Through the whirlwind of misadventures that come with being a part of S.Coup’s entourage, Hansol only knows one constant: S.Coup’s producer and best friend, Woozi. AO3 Version Pro | Pt 1 | 

Hansol is dumb. He’s not stupid, he’s actually pretty intelligent when it comes to learning new things and skills, he even speaks two languages fluently. But when it comes to the basic knowledge of self-preservation that’s supposed to keep him out of sketchy situations: Hansol is really really dumb. Which is why he’s currently being jostled through a crowd of bodies that reek of alcohol and smoke and too much perfume as Mingyu leads them to the employee’s only section of a sketchy nightclub downtown that didn’t even ID them as they walked in. 

 The security standing by the door smiles as they approach, pulling Mingyu into a friendly half-hug and letting them pass by. Hansol’s ears are ringing from the sudden change in volume when the door shuts behind them. The hallway they’re in is short, the door to their left giant and metal, most likely leading to a walk in cooler, whereas the two on their right are a dark wood similar to the door they came in. Mingyu takes the steps to the second door and stops before turning to meet Hansol’s eyes. 

 “Listen, I’ve known these guys for a while and I’ve gotta warn you, Coups is a little wild, but he’s cool. Wonwoo is quiet, but I promise he doesn’t hate you, he just doesn’t know how to talk to people. But Woozi...” The elder’s hands come up to rest on Hansol’s shoulders and squeeze lightly. “Woozi is the devil. I’m warning you now, at the smallest sign of weakness that demon man will jump under your skin and make you regret every minor sin you’ve ever committed in your entire life. He’s gonna be the one to open the door, I guarantee it, just remember what I’ve told you.” 

 Hansol gulps, regretting every decision he’s made that led him to this point and once again curses the lack of self-preservation instincts that left him too dumb to run the second Mingyu looked at him with that Cheshire cat grin at the bus stop. 

 Mingyu goes to knock and he almost reaches up to grab Mingyu’s arm, to tell him that he changed his mind and he doesn’t want to meet S.Coups, but he’s not fast enough and too soon Mingyu’s knuckles are rapping against the wood and the door is swinging open.

 The man in the doorway isn’t what Hansol was expecting. The way Mingyu had described him has Hansol picturing a dragon in human form, towering over him and ready to breathe fire at him just for existing. He is absolutely not expecting to be looking down at a man with shaggy blond hair and dimples in his cheeks when he smirks up at Mingyu, wearing a black sweatshirt that looks at least two sizes too big for him. 

 He’s pretty, Hansol thinks briefly. Really pretty actually, with sharp eyes lined in kohl, full lips blotted red in the center, and a black lace choker resting against his adam’s apple. 

 “Hansol, this is the one I was telling you about, Lee Jihoon, AKA Woozi,” Mingyu says by way of introduction. 

 Jihoon barely glances in his direction, instead pinning his eyes firmly on Mingyu, and when he speaks his voice is light and airy but sends a shiver down Hansol’s spine because nevermind this guy actually is scary. “Mingyu, why are you always here? You’re like a stain on my favorite t-shirt that I just can’t seem to get out.” The venom in his voice doesn’t match the almost serene smile on the man’s face and Hansol is convinced that he must be insane. 

 “Ah, Jihoon hyung, I’m on your favorite t-shirt? Not just any shirt, but your favorite?” 

 Jihoon looks like he might actually swing on Mingyu for a full ten seconds before he laughs finally and all of the tension leaves Hansol’s body. “Get your ass in here, Gyu.” 

 The room they enter is most likely the employee break room, judging by the row of metal lockers on the wall closest to them and the mini-fridge set up at the end of them. There’s a small coffee table with a laptop and two faded couches, one of which has a red haired man in a sleeveless black top and jeans sitting on it. 

 Jihoon plops down on the unoccupied couch next to the door, pulling the coffee table closer to him and immediately clacking away at the laptop keys. 

 “I thought you weren’t gonna show tonight,” the other man says as Mingyu falls into the spot beside him. 

 Mingyu grins at him, throwing an arm out over his shoulders. “Ahh come on Won, when was the last time I missed one of your shows?” Hansol doesn’t hear what the other man replies, only sees the corners of his mouth quirk up as he leans in to speak quietly into Mingyu’s ear. Mingyu catches his eye and sits up a little straighter. “Oh, Hansol, this is Jeon Wonwoo, AKA Mr. Beanie.” 

 “Nice to meet you.” Wonwoo gives him a small smile and a wave before returning his attention to Mingyu, leaving Hansol to fidget awkwardly next to the couch where Jihoon sits. 

 He leans over a bit to peak at the screen after a few minutes, seeing a word document open on one-half of the screen and an audio program open on the other. 

 “Hey kid, if you’re gonna be nosey, at least grab me a soda and sit down so you’re not hovering over me while I’m trying to work.”

 Jihoon’s voice startles him and Hansol can feel the tips of his ears heating as he nods. The mini-fridge has a few water bottles and a couple of Cokes. He takes one and makes his way over to the couch, setting the soda down on the table and taking a seat as far away from Jihoon as he can on the small sofa. 

 “What are you doing?” Hansol ask quietly, watching as Jihoon’s rearranges files on the audio window before clicking back over to edit the word doc.

 Jihoon’s fingers never stop as he replies. “Working on a guide track for a song I wrote.”

 Hansol can’t keep the awe out of his voice as he leans a little closer to the laptop. “You write music? That’s so cool.” 

 Jihoon pauses and looks at the younger man. He looks like he’s about to say something when the door to the room bursts open, slamming back into the door frame with a bang loud enough to make Hansol jump in his seat. 

 “Mother fucker.” 

 Everyone looks at the doorway where a very pissed off looking S.Coups is standing, running a hand through his dark locks and groaning. 

 “What’s up, Cheol?” Jihoon says as he and Wonwoo stand. 

 “The fucker doesn’t wanna pay us what he said he would. Fucker’s like ‘Oh there aren’t as many people as we were expecting so how about we drop it down two hundred.’”

 “What does he mean there aren’t as many people as we were expecting? This place hasn’t been this packed in weeks.” Jihoon’s arms are crossed over his chest and his jaw is visibly clenched. He looks pissed and for a second Hansol can imagine why Mingyu said Jihoon was scary because he can definitely imagine the blond throttling someone with the look in his eyes. 

 “I’m tempted to tell him to go fuck himself and dip; this shit is ridiculous.” Seungcheol walks over to the fridge and pops open a water bottle, downing half of its contents before he finally seems to notice the two other people in the room. “Who’s the kid?” 

 Hansol goes to introduce himself only to be cut off by Jihoon. “You can’t not do the show now, Cheol. It’s bad business for the people that you guys did bring out tonight.” 

 “I know that, fuck, but this shit is still annoying as fuck.” Seungcheol sighs, having apparently completely forgotten about Hansol once more as he makes his way back towards the door. “I’m gonna go take a piss and get a beer before we start. I’ll see y’all out there.” 

 Hansol sinks further into the couch as the door shuts behind Seungcheol and Jihoon comes back over to grab his laptop. “We better head out too, Wonwoo. I’ve still gotta get set up at the booth before you guys go on.”

 “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Wonwoo stretches his arms over his head before turning to Mingyu. “You coming over after the show, Gyu?” 

 Mingyu grins. “Of course. Break a leg out there.” 

 Wonwoo is the first to leave. Mingyu follows after him as Hansol stands and Jihoon packs his laptop into a messenger bag he’d had laid next to the couch. 

 He feels like he should say something as he heads for the door, but he’s just so awkward and Jihoon doesn’t seem like the friendliest person in the world, so he just settles for stumbling over a ‘nice to meet you’ as he opens the door. 

 The door closes on Jihoon’s quiet “See ya, kid.”

[peggysousfan]

Anomaly Misfire

This is the fic add on to the edit I had posted previously to do with Bellarke. The Anomaly sends Bellamy back in time to Earth after Primfaya, what will happen when he sees Clarke? This is based on a gif set I saw on Tumblr lol its amazing and looks so real, I wish it were.

"It's been 58 days. By now, Monty should have the algae farm producing." Clarke speaks through a makeshift radio while eating a few berries she found in the valley. Compared to algae, berries were better. "How bad does it suck? No offense Monty." She stops speaking but only hears static. She never gets a reply to her calls. "And I found berries, a whole field of them! They're not very sweet, but they're beautiful. I think that's what they used to make the paint for-"

As Clarke speaks through the radio and turns her head aside to look at the paint on a house, an illuminating green swirl appears seemingly out of no where. A small crackle of lights move through before the green mist vanished, leaving behind something- or rather someone. She stands up from her chair and cautiously steps closer to the man left behind by the mysterious green swirl.

"Clarke?" He whispers with his hands out stretched, unsure how to proceed. Her hair is longer than it was at Sanctum, and from the looks of his surroundings he's back at Shadow Valley.

"Be-Bellamy?!" Her voice cracks a bit as she looks around unsure if she's hallucinating from the radiation and dehydration. She did just discover the valley not too long ago after all.

"Wher-uh... I'm back on Earth? How..." He looks around and walks but before he's aware, a pair of arms wrap around his torso, blonde hair now fills under his chin. He chuckles and embraces her back, but what he doesn't expect is her to panic and start dragging him to the rover. "Clarke? What are you-"

"We have to get you to Becca's lab before the radiation sets in and kills you! Bellamy..." She turns around to face him, worry etched in her face. "It hasn't been five years. Its not safe for you to be here."

He chuckles lightly and halts to a stop, confusing Clarke. She pulls him more but he continues to laugh.

"Bellamy!?"

He takes her hand in his and walks back to the table where she was sitting before he had appeared. He then notices the radio and sighs. Madi was right, she did call to him while he was in space. At this thought he looks around.

"Where's Madi?" Now Clarke is even more confused.

"Who's Madi?"

"Your daughter..."

His words barely process through her mind as they stand near each other. But as Bellamy sees the perplexed expression over Clarke's face, he realizes they haven't met yet. That is, if he's thinking correctly about where and when he is in time.

"Bell I don't have a-" But before she can finish her sentence, she stops and looks to her left. A child stands from a distance and watched them. "Oh my God..."

The little girl runs off and before Bellamy knows it, Clarke runs after her. "Clarke!" But its no use, she can't hear him.

With a huffed breath he runs after her. He catches up to her within moments, trees and branches hanging in his face as he tries to smack them away. Its been a long time since he's been on earth, when things actually made since then. Clarke shouts in Trigedasleng to grab the girls attention, but she keeps going further into the woods. Bellamy stops running when he sees Clarke stop, she's looking at a child with crazed hair from afar. That has to be Madi. He thinks. But in the blink of an eye she runs off again. Clarke doesn't hesitate to run after her and so Bellamy follows them with a roll of his eyes. How can a small child run this fast? Clarke is still ahead of him but her voice echoes through the trees.

"Wait! Are you alone? Are there others?" She stops running to look at her surrounds and stops when she sees the little girl staring at her on the trail. Clarke speaks in trig once more.She says, "You're a nightblood, right?"

Clarke steps forward cautiously, trying to talk down to the girl, but she doesn't move. Instead Clarke does and eventually steps into a bear trap. She screams out in pain from the metal piercing the skin of her leg. Bellamy hears and runs faster. The little girl attacks Clarke in the mean time, attempting to stab her with a knife. She avoid most of the blows but her arm is cut, leaving black to trickle down her arm.

"Clarke!" The valley girl looks up at Bellamy and runs in the opposite direction, but seeing as Clarke is screeching in agony, his main focus on her. Bellamy bends down and helps her out of the bear trap, then carries her back to the village, but not without  fight. He sets her down after a while and she limps into one of the houses.

She grabs her bag on the way to sitting down on a table, ripping her pants leg as she does so. Bellamy tries to help but isn't sure what to do. "Its okay, Bellamy. I-I got it." Her words come out in a stutter as she hurriedly grabs a thread and needle.  At first she hesitates, but proceeds to stitch up the gashes on her leg. The only thing Bellamy can do is sit and listen to her agonizing sounds. After she's done, she passes out from the pain, but not before Bellamy rushes to her side and catches her head.

Clarke stays unconscious for several hours, so long he starts to worry about her. He periodically checks the wound and takes the liberty of cleaning it up as much, and as gently, as he can. But after several more minutes of waiting, and dozing off himself, Clarke wakes and startles at the pain in her leg.

"Hey hey hey! Easy... don't hurt yourself." Clarke jumps slightly before remembering Bellamy's presence. It takes a few moments before she realizes he isn't burning from radiation.

"You're... you're okay?" Her arm reaches out to him, inspecting the skin on his neck, hands, and face.

"Me? Of course I'm fine. You're the one that stepped into a bear trap."

Clarke thinks for a moment as the memories flood back into her mind, but right now the tap isn't her main concern. "No, that's not- Bellamy... how are you still alive? The radiation levels aren't safe. And how did you even get back?"

"Uhh... well I can answer one question." He shrugs and smiles, though she's still unhappy with his answer. The glare from her face tells him that very thought, though it is also contorted in pain. "Abby injected us with nightblood before returning to Sanctum." But as he says this his eyes widen and he flinches. "Sorry I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

"For what? And when did my mom make you a nightblood? You went off to space because the blood wasn't tested. I was the only one who took the syringe and injected myself." It was then he realized that Abby was still alive in the bunker. Clarke hadn't lost her yet. He feels like he should warn her, tell her whats coming, but then again who knows what will happen if he does. "And why are you looking at me like that? You still haven't answered my question of how you got here." Bellamy freezes and looks away from her.

"Look, Clarke, I don't know how I got here. One minute I'm in the Gabriel's tent holding Octavia after she's stabbed, then I'm taken by invisible people through the anomaly. I fought them off and I ended up falling and then landing here."

For several moments she sits quietly trying to process everything Bellamy has just said, and yet none of it makes sense to her. "What!?!? You were just in space with Monty, Raven, and the others. Octavia is still in the bunker and I have no idea who Gabriel is or what the 'Anomaly' is either. And what is Sanctum?"

"Uhh... shit."

"Bellamy?" She presses for more answers but he doesn't budge.

"It's complicated, okay?"

"Complicated." She echoes his words before trying to stand up. He asks what she's doing but shrugs it off. "You wouldn't understand. It's too complicated." She bites back, causing him to startle.

"Clarke come on. Its not easy to explain."

"Really? Then what is?" She turns to look at him over her shoulder and he freezes in place unsure what she means. Clarke scoffs at his confused look and sits facing him. "Bellamy we were born in space, sent to earth with no knowledge if it was inhabitable, then set up camp and fought a war with savages for land. Then Mount weather happened, I was on the run from literally very clan that existed only to be stuck in a worse situation fighting an AI and having to become a nightblood and fight off a whole city of innocent people. Then after almost dying I  find out the world was once again going to burn down into nothing, which left us having to choose and send hundreds of our own people to their deaths! Which left me one of the only people left on Earth above ground. But no, I wouldn't know complicated."

Bellamy inhales a deep breath and sighs, knowing everything she said is true. But what happens next is even worse than what they've faced before. Everything on earth were trial runs building up to Sanctum and the war raging on there.

"You really wanna know?" She gives him to look and he chuckles. Of course she wants to know. "Well, believe it or not I'm from the future."

"Future? Seriously?" He laughs at this and sits back in the chair he occupied before she woke up.

"Yeah. Seriously." Clarke looks at him through the moonlight and does realize he seems different, but she couldn't' think of how much time had changed since then. "Earth becomes uninhabitable within a matter of weeks after 6 years pass by. Once that happens we leave. Travel in our sleep to another planet where...things are the same as Earth. Trouble every where we go. We tried to be peaceful, civil even, but-" As Bellamy stops talking his voice cracks. The memory of figuring out Josephine taking over Clarke's body still haunts him.

"But what?" Her voice is soft and light, curious at why he stopped talking.

"They tried to kill you. I thought you were dead, Clarke." At this Clarke sits up straighter, trying to ignore searing pain in her lag as she does so. "To me and everyone else, you died and there was nothing we could do. There was nothing I could do! Peace was the goal and even though we tried to not.. to- dammit!"

"Bellamy..." She reaches out to him as he jumps from his chair and combs his hand through his hair. His mind fills back with the emotion, the dread, of thinking he had lost her forever.Clarke reaches out and touches his arm, grounding him back to reality.

"I tried, Clarke. I tried to keep the peace but... it didn't work out." he explains everything he could. From the mind drives, to nightblood and its connection, to Russel, Josephine, the Primes, and Sanctum. As well as the rebellion and the strange Anomaly that had taken Octavia back. Bellamy told her everything. As he does so, she sits back and groans from the pain. He reaches out to her but she says she's fine. "Clarke?"

"I-I don't know what to say to that, Bellamy. But now I understand why you apologized for mentioning my mom." He sighs and reaches out to her again, this time she accepts and holds his hand. "So all of this happens and what? We can't change anything can we?"

"I don't think we can."

Silence falls between them as the whirlwind of information is absorbed between them. For the rest of the night nothing else is said, they simply stay, hands together, and content on this moment.

For Clarke it has only been 58 days, but for Bellamy it has been over 70 years with a moment of content silence between them. A lingering, unsaid, feeling moving through the air. In his time living in space, Bellamy never thought he would end up with Echo, and yet he did. His mind says he cares for her, but his heart yearns for another, and still their relationship lingered on. But forces beyond his control tell him that its up to him to take fate in his own hands and be with the one he truly cared for-  the one he truly loved- and to do that was to atone for their past mistakes, if only to create a path for their future.