#i was gonna cut my hair. like at our showcase i was so worried i hated how my hair looked bc i hadnt washed it in a couple days

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

✨️Bodhi durran ✨️ that's it.

BUT ALSO

Imagine him being the most amazing boyfriend. I don't know if you have seen lockwood and co on Netflix but that scene where lockwood dresses Lucy's wounds and is looking dead ass deep in her soul smiling, my god bodhi material.

To get to my point if you could write a one shot of bodhi finding out you're injured and going ballistic to anyone that let her out of their sight and got hurt and then finding you trying to wrap your wounds and instantly going all soft and helping I would be forever in your debt

Ps. If you haven't watched lockwod and co it's absolutely worth it.

I haven't watched the show so if this isn't exactly how you pictured this, I apologize✨🤍

Worries

"Where is she?", Bodhi yanked onto one of the recruits, who was in the same formation as you, shirt up. The poor lad looked like he was about to shit himself at best as he stumbled over words. The thing was... Bodhi was fun and games until he wasn't. And that wasn't part come a lot sooner than expected. Considering that the past weeks of him being a section leader had been rather calm. But that sorry fuck just had to show off. Had to break formation. Had to try to prove his piss poor ego and get you hurt.

"You're speechless all of a sudden?", Bodhi shook the guy in his grip, "Answer the goddamn question before you end up like a roasted chicken on the solstice table". You could hear a pin dropping in the background that's how silent the squad had gotten. "I think I saw her entering the building", some other recruit cut in. Bodhi narrowed his eyes, "You think or you saw?", shoving the quivering male he stepped aside sizing everyone up.

"You weak shits better listen and better listen well", he practically growled through gritted teeth. His first instinct was to run after you. He saw the blood gushing from your hand after the coalition. But he also knew his title. Causing a bigger scene than necessary would only turn heads your way. And neither of you needed that. Neither of you wanted to become a target leading to one another. "If any of you will ever do anything similar to what Marco did today", Bodhi grunted. Gods, he felt like Xaden. "I will skin you myself and believe me your dragons will smoke you alive. Dismissed", he practically roared as the recruits hurried away. Bodhi ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.

"She is up in your room", the voice made Bodhi jolt slightly. Garrick was leaning against one of the pillars. "I passed her, she's fine, man", Garrick continued to speak since Bodhi just stood there, "You did well here too. More and more like our beloved Xaden every day". He knew it was a dig. The two cousins had been compared ever since their interactions were brought to the daylight. "Why don't you go fuck yourself", Bodhi grunted as he walked past his friend. "Gets boring after a while", Garrick chirped in return. Bodhi simply snarled but that of course earned a satisfied chuckle from Garrick.

"Show it to me", the sudden bag of the door practically hitting the wall and the raised voice made you drop the blood-soaked rag. You knew Bodhi was gonna find you eventually. Your dragon was practically counting the minutes for you ever since you had flown back first and dismounted. "Bodhi, it's okay", you tried to keep your voice calm. The wound wasn't all that bad it was the angle and the damaged tissue of the skin that caused it to bleed so much. "Don't you it's okay, me", he grunted, "Show me", his voice was lethal low. He never used that tone with you. It was his section leader's voice. The voice he gave a report in. But it never was showcased around the people he trusted and cared for.

"There's nothing to look at it's...", "I didn't ask, I gave you an order", he cut in, grabbing your upper arm gently so he could look at the damage himself. Bodhi's eyebrows knitted together for a moment, his jaw flexed. "Sit", he muttered motioning towards the bed. "Bodhi", you breathed out. "Baby, I swear to everything holy to me", he exhaled a shaky breath, "you either sit or I am carrying to the healer's wing and will put you on bed rest for a week". You huffed at his threat but you knew that he wasn't bluffing so you followed his orders.

Bodhi was so gentle as he carefully wiped away some of the blood before pressing a clean bandage on your cut, securing it in place. Make sure it's tight for a couple of hours before the bleeding slows down. He would redo it in a couple of hours. Wash it off with a salve he would go ask for. Then another bandage. Then... "Bodhi, I can hear you making plans in your head", you muttered. It was cute watching him fuss at times. It was his way of showing love but you also knew that his head was a wild space and it only took one bad thought to have it all spiraling out of control. "Does it hurt a lot? Do you need something for the pain?", he asked, his concerned eyes searching yours. "Start by giving me a hug and then sit down with me", you said softly, "I promise, I'm fine". You reached out for him, taking his hand into yours, squeezing it.

"I just hate seeing you hurt", Bodhi breathed out, his shoulders drooping. "The feeling is mutual but there are times we can't do anything about it", you reached to run your fingers through his messy curls. That now was completely out of control since he no doubt had been pulling at them. "Do we have a murder scene in the backyard?", you nudged your boyfriend's shoulder, making him snort. "Not yet but we might...", Bodhi exhaled, turning to face you.

"You promise you're okay?", you met his worried gaze but this time instead of answering him you just leaned in and kissed him. Slowly and tenderly. Letting him feel your love. "Good enough proof?", you asked when you two finally broke apart. "Not sure... maybe a couple more kisses", Bodhi thoughtfully nodded his head. You giggled slightly before cupping his face once more.

[walli3darl1ng]

i fumcking, love your, writing!!!!!!!! i hope you don’t mind my request- feel free to delete it if you do!!

maybe the neighborhood with a person who’s maybe a Bubak or a Jōrogumo? (if you don’t wanna write the neighbors you can do a x reader if you want!)

make sure to take care of yourself and drink water!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- 🫂Hugging Anon🫂

THIS IS SO INTERESTING

I have to do research on this and I got ideas for a Jōrogumo!reader. It’s gonna be everyone but more towards our shopkeeper; Howdy Pillar!

I love that man, I want to hug him!🥺💖

In my research, I found out that a jōrogumo is female. Quote, from wiki, “it can shape-shift into a beautiful woman.”, so I will be using she/her pronunciation. You’re free to change it I won’t be emphasizing it that much except your appearance. I hope that’s okay!

Also! Trigger warning for Arachnophobia because honey….

You are one! So please if that will make you uncomfortable don’t read! I’m sure I’ll make another request suited for you :) okay! Let’s get started I hope you like it.

Howdy sighs softly while turning the open sign to close. For the past week, his fruits and vegetables had been going missing in the back storage unit and he doesn’t know why!

Originally, he thought it was Willy, that little puppet would just snatch a bright red apple any chance he got. But he soon realized that it’s not only the apples that got taken but other fruits as well as vegetables.

Next, he thought maybe there’s an animal taking to food. That was quickly thrown out the window when he realized that this neighborhood is a pretty clean one. No sight of rodents within the neighborhood, just out in the woods.

Howdy jumps when he hears a crash in the back and quickly goes to investigate. Upon opening the door he sees you, a long haired, really pretty spider-human. You are currently inspecting an avocado, holding it in your hand and lifting it up to your nose and sniffing it. When you didn’t get anything you open your mouth, showcasing your fangs and taking a bite.

You quickly pull away when the earthy taste along with the core in the middle gave you an unpleasant impression on the avocado, you drop it and spit the rest out.

Howdy was still thinking on what he’s seeing right now, how did you get here? Why are you here? And why did you bite an avocado?

Wait…

Spider?!

It just hit howdy that you’re a spider!

“Um, excuse me?” He jumps when you turned to him and hissed, quickly crawled up the wall and into a corner. “Wait! I’m sorry, come on out I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You push yourself closer to the corner hopping that would hide you but the man keeps inching closer. Seeing as you won’t come down Howdy hums and think on how to calmly get you down. Find an idea he tells you to wait here and walk out. Finding this interesting you did as you were told, staring up on the corner of the ceiling.

Coming back with a knife, Howdy take an avocado and cuts it up. This made you curious and walk down from the corner, now in the middle of the wall, tilting your head at his actions.

Seeing that you weren’t scared anymore he steps closer and holds the plate of now cut avocados and holds it up to you. He sees you hesitant but eventually with each little step your eight spider legs make he gets more details of you.

Long, flow-y, slick hair, three pairs of eyes all shining with curiosity at the once dark drown-black avocado now looking a bright green color. You look up at howdy, as if asking for permission and he gives you a smile and nudges the plate towards you gently. “Go on, they’re really good without the skin.”

You glance down at the avocado and with your fingers you carefully take the half and smell it, still nothing, is it still safe to eat?

Noticing your hesitation once again, it’s safe to say you’ve never seen anyone or anything before and starts getting a little worried. Why are you here? Howdy takes the other half, gaining your attention, and takes a bite, showing you it’s safe. “Hmm! Good, see?”

Peeking up, you take a bite and with just a few chews you swiftly eat the rest in no time flat. Well now Howdy knows who’s been taking the merchandise, but why? Humming he sees you turn and walk back on the wall. Aha!

One of your legs are injured! He thinks that’s why you haven’t left and sit on the makeshift corner hammock you made out of your web. He’s worried that you’ll get sick if not properly cared for, you’re probably cold too with only some leaves and vines covering you up, For now he’ll let you be.

Morning came and you are awaken by the door and you see howdy peek in. He smiles when he saw you rubbing a set of eyes. “Good morning, how did you sleep?”

You crawl out of your hammock and down the wall carefully. Once in front of howdy you smile up at him and touching his hand, their freezing!

“You’re cold! Here, let me introduce you to my friends and they can help you feel right at home, sound like a plan?” He woke up early and called a neighborhood meeting to discuss what he found and everyone was more then welcome to help out. But now thinking about introduction, Howdy hasn’t told you his name! “Oh, how rude of me! I’m Howdy, Howdy Pillar.”

You tilt you head. The taller puppet points at himself and repeats himself. “Me, Howdy,” then points at you. “And you are?”

You mimic him; pointing at him. “Howdy,” your voice was soft and silky but strong. Howdy enjoyed that melody of his name coming from you. You then point at yourself. “Me, Y/n.”

“That’s it, good job! Me, Howdy. You, Y/n.”

You giggle and jump from excitement your eyes dialing at his praise.

“Come on, people are here to meet you.” Howdy takes you hand and leads you out the storage unit gently. One pair of hands on either shoulder while the other one was on your back and the other holding your small hand. You were nervous, are these people nice? Will they hurt you? You take your free hand and reach up to holds one of Howdy’s hands that on your shoulder. He takes notice and holds your hand.

Now at the front of the store you see a group of colorful people. You feel out of place, the only color you have is a tad of yellow, other then that it’s mixes of red, brow and black.

They all stare at you while you tilt your head and get scared when they all start talking at once.

“Oh my goodness! She’s so pretty!”

“Her hair is so long! I bet it’s soft!”

“The poor thing is shivering.”

You got overwhelmed by the sound and trying to make out all that they were saying. You cover your ears and cower close and behind Howdy pressing your upper body close to his back in hopes that would make them stop.

“Okay, guys that’s enough, you’re scaring her.” Howdy scolds, side stepping a bit and pulls you close next to him. “It’s okay, they’re just happy to meet you, right?”

“Oh goodness! We’re sorry, howdy, yea we’re just happy to meet someone as unique as she is.” Julie flaps her arms around in excitement, Frank holding her arms to keep her from hitting Wally in the face.

“She’s a spider, after all.”

“An injured spider, the poor thing look at her leg.” Poppy softly mentioned, all now looking at her wound on her leg.”

“We should help, right?” Sally looks up at poppy, who nods and quickly goes to get her medical kit, sally and Frank followed.

The whole day it was the neighborhood taking care of you. But since you refused to leave the store, insisted on staying with Howdy by climbing over and behind the front counter and holding one of Howdy’s hand.

First it was poppy helping your wound, making sure you’re okay even though you scare her a bit. Your eyes is what makes her nervous so you stick to looking away from her.

While getting treatment sally comes back with a folded up fabric. She made you some clothes since you’re cold. It’s a simple yet adorable long sleeve shirt and a sweater. You finally got some color!

After that Julie got intel from Howdy that you seem to love avocados so she made you some guacamole! How doesn’t like guac?!

Later, you were getting a bit of sun just outside the store laying your spider body on the grass while you let Sally and Julie mess and style your hair. Wally soon walked over and sat next to you, not saying a word he leans on your back and climbs on. You twisted your torso back to watch him with curiosity.

“Wally! Get off her!”

“You’re not letting me finish the braid!”

“She smells like apples.” Wally nuzzles into your hair. At this point you let this happen until Howdy comes out and puts a stop to it, giving him an apple and you an avocado.

Barnaby is a bit scared of you but that doesn’t stop this funny and charming puppet to give you a spider plushy.

Eddie and Frank work on a blanket for you, a quilt with everyone’s color scheme.

So now you don’t feel out of place.

You’re home.

[theweasleysredhair]

Wait For It [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 3488

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: ‘Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes. And we keep living anyway. We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes.’ [Based on ‘Wait For It’ from the musical Hamilton].

WARNING: major character death, other character deaths

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @sarcasticallywitty15 @tyyyweasley @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @wonderful-writer @marauders-loving-queen @vogueweasley @marvelettesassemble @thisismynerdyself @gcdric @loony-loopy-lupinn @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @pussytalenteditdocartwheels @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whiz-bangs78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @vivianweasley | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: got a bit carried away with the angst... prepare your hearts guys - i cried a lot and i’m the one who wrote it. anyways lil shoutout to haley @wand3ringr0s3 bc she let me talk out this fic idea and also she’s the queen of angst fics. anyways enjoy x

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Love;-

His ginger hair was illuminated by the light from the fire, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief and lips curled up into a cheeky smile - one you adored on him, one that made your heart race.

He sat beside Lee, retelling the story of one of his more outrageous pranks, waving his hands in enthusiasm as you smiled at him. You weren’t quite listening, too caught up in his voice and how passionate he was, your heart beating fast as you pulled a knee up to rest your chin on as you watched him.

The conversation moved on quickly from there, but you couldn’t bring yourself to remove your gaze from the eldest twin, moving to lean on George’s arm as you listened, but making no move to join in with them.

“I can’t wait to ask her.”

The words piqued your interest, and you almost jolted from your seat as you heard him say those words, feeling like your heart was in your throat.

Who was he talking about?

“She’s... she’s amazing. She’s smart, she’s funny. She’s fit. If she says yes to me, I’ve hit the jackpot I reckon,” Fred grinned, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes flickered over to you for just a moment and you smiled back at him absent-mindedly.

You couldn’t help it. You loved him.

Lee nudged Fred, wiggling his eyebrows at him, “When are you gonna ask her to the ball?”

Fred cleared his throat and sat up straighter, and you caught his gaze, a small - very hopeful - part of you praying he was going to ask you, and ask you at that moment.

When his gaze moved swiftly onto George, you finally looked away, staring at the fire. And though you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t talking about you, you hoped.

“Tomorrow.”

You’d wait and hope with all your heart he’d pick you.

***

You’d felt nervous all day, a ball of negative energy curling in your stomach as you wandered through your lessons aimlessly, heart clenching every time you saw Fred speaking to a girl, hoping he wasn’t asking her, yet knowing he might be.

You thought studying in the hall was going to be an easy hour, sitting by your close friends, including Angelina and Alicia, the twins and Lee sitting a little further up the benches, near Harry and Ron.

There was some mumbling, and then you heard Ron hiss, “Who’re you going with then?”

You slowly looked up, so as to not draw attention to yourself or show yourself as interested, however as you glanced over at the boys, you noticed Fred staring.

And for a moment, a small gap in time, your heart leapt as you thought he was looking at you. His brown eyes caught yours and he winked, and you felt your throat closing up, thought maybe there was a possibility of him asking you.

He threw the scrunched up ball of paper in your direction, and you held your breath, a smile curling onto your lips as the paper flew towards you. You practiced how you’d say yes to him in your head, imagined what you’d wear, how you’d do your makeup. What colour his tie would be - the same colour as your dress, you’d hope.

And then the paper sailed past your eyeline, hitting Angelina on her shoulder. Your heart sank, blood rushing through your ears as you watched Fred ask her to the ball, felt the pain in your chest growing as watched her nod.

It was one thing knowing he didn’t feel the same about you as you did about him, another to know he felt that way for someone else. More specifically, one of your closest friends.

You ripped your gaze away from them and stared down at the paper in front of you, quill nearly breaking from the force you were applying to it, throat closing up as you blinked away your tears, not wanting anyone to see.

The study time felt like it lasted hours, your hands shaking as you packed your things up and headed straight for your common room, burying yourself under the blankets on your bed and screaming into your pillow.

You were sure you were in love with Fred Weasley, as certain as you were that the sky was blue and grass was green. Your happiness grew when you heard him laugh, heart pounding whenever he was near.

He loved Angelina though.

Tears soaked your pillow as you tried to put your heart back together somehow. Tried to be okay with it.

But how were you supposed to get over a boy you were never with? How were you supposed to fall out of love with someone that didn’t love you?

Your chest ached, eyes sore from wiping away tears, yet they still fell.

And so you sat, crying over a love you never had. And most likely never would.

-

Death;-

“How’re you feeling?” Fred asked as he joined you in a secluded area of the castle. The battle preparations were ongoing, with everyone quickly projecting all the protective spells they knew on any part of the school they could.

You looked out and could see a swarm of black figures heading towards you in the distance, making everything seem that much more real, that much more scary.

“Scared,” you admitted glancing up at the redhead, who nodded.

“Me too,” he confirmed. He opened his arms and pulled you into his chest, into a warm hug. You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent as your arms wrapped tightly around him.

You both stood there for just a while, his hands rubbing your back reassuringly, and you decided, in that moment, you needed to tell him.

You needed to tell him you loved him.

Needed him to know, before you both set off fighting. Needed to know if there was chance for you both - if this was another reason to fight.

“I need to tell you something, before it all starts,” your voice was quiet, but you knew Fred heard as he pulled away to look at you, his hands still holding your waist as he focused on you.

“What is it?”

“I-“ you hesitated for a moment, swallowing nervously as your gaze dropped to the floor. Fred lifted your head up gently with his thumb, a touch that set your skin alight, one that sent shivers down your spin.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, in contrast to his usual booming voice, a concerned look set on his features as he looked down at you, his brown eyes showcasing his worry.

“Please don’t hate me,” you replied, just as soft. You squeezed your eyes tightly, feeling him grab one of your hands in his as the hand on your chin moved to cup your cheek.

“Darling, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, reopening your eyes and catching his gaze, your heart pounding as you tried to think of the words you wanted to say, “I don’t want to go into this battle without you knowing, so I- I guess what I’m trying to say is... well, I’m in love with you.”

Silence is odd, having the ability to be both comfortable and tension-filled depending on the company and context. Usually, silence around Fred was comforting, knowing he was there without either of you having to say a word. But this silence, the silence that hung over you, made your heart leap to your throat, and you swallowed harshly, wincing at the wide-eyed look he was giving you at this revelation.

His hand dropped from your cheek and he stepped away just a little, just enough that you swore he probably could’ve heard your heart crack, before he finally spoke, his voice a shaky whisper, as if he didn’t know what to say, how to reply.

“Y/n, darling, I love you...”

You felt your eyes widening a little, heart beating fast now due to his response. You didn’t think you’d ever hear him say those three little words, ones that held so much meaning. The beginnings of the battle around you faded, and you could only think about how you loved Fred, and Fred loved you. Everything was going to be okay - you had each other.

Just as you were going to step forward, a watery laugh nearly escaping your lips, you realised he was still finishing his sentence, that he hadn’t finished answering you.

“... but only as a friend.”

His voice was gentle, but his words cut like glass, sharp pieces hitting your chest and ripping your skin, the words reverberating in your head. And suddenly warm tears were falling down your cheeks - you’d let yourself get your hopes up, let yourself imagine a life where you loved Fred and he loved you. When in reality, he didn’t love you.

He wasn’t in love with you.

You took a shaky breath, nodding at him as you pressed your lips together, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stepped back away from him.

“I know,” you whispered, looking away from his gaze, feeling embarrassed, above anything else, trying to force a smile onto your face, “I-I know... I just- I needed to tell you.”

You swallowed, shaking your head. You felt stupid. He’d never shown he was interested, you didn’t know why you’d ever thought there was a chance.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, before reaching out towards you, a look of sympathetic despair crossing his features as he tried to bring you closer to him.

As his fingers brushed yours and you pulled away as though he burnt you, he felt his heart clench, taking a shaky breath as he watched one of his closest friends pull away from him, tears lining his vision as you moved further away from him, his hand hovering mid-air as though he still wanted - needed - you to be near him.

“Love, please. I-I can’t lose you. Please, let’s just- Let’s talk about this. After all this- please. Don’t walk away, I-I need you Y/n. I’m sorry I don’t lov- but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I care about you so so much,” his lips were trembling, tears falling freely as he reached out again, a sob escaping his lips as you hesitated, allowing him to take his hand in yours for just a moment.

“It’s okay, Freddie,” you whispered, though he and you both knew it wasn’t okay, and possibly wouldn’t ever go back to the way things were before you told him you loved him, “I just- I need to be alone.”

“We’re going into battle, I need you to know that I-“

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t do this.”

Fred tried desperately to get you to stay. He didn’t want to watch you leave, to watch you walk away from him. Not like this, not when you were both about to risk your lives fighting in a dangerous battle, where one wrong move could cost you your life.

“But I-“

“I need to go,” You pulled your hand from his and turned on your heel, wiping your tears away quickly as you ran off.

Fred’s mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something, as if he wanted to call after you, before closing it again and shaking his head sadly, wiping a last lone tear that fell down his cheek before shoving his hands into his pockets.

He’d find you after the battle and speak to you, he decided.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

***

You were tired. The battle wore on around you as you stumbled through the fallen pieces of the building around you, overwhelmed at the fighting and overcome with the realisation that you were basically a bunch of kids trying to fight in a war you tried to prevent.

You hadn’t seen anyone for a while, being towards the back of the school, only fighting the occasional death eater who wandered close to you. You were hiding out after a particularly nasty hex left a gash down your arm, trying your best to bandage it up as best you could.

You hoped everyone was okay, had already passed by Colin Creevey lying on the floor as you found somewhere to hide. You’d almost stopped for a moment, hoping he was just unconscious, however the angle he was lay at told you otherwise, and you forced yourself to move on before anyone came back.

Still reeling with emotion from your talk before the battle, you’d shot spells carelessly at death eaters, hoping it was enough to keep them away. To keep you alive.

You turned the corner, wand raised, your eyes scanning the scene as you tried to find somebody - anybody.

And that’s when you saw it.

A flash of light, and you felt yourself running towards it, stumbling over the rubble, dodging spells in desperation. It hit the wall, the ginger boy stood underneath unaware.

You screamed out his name, the sound somehow cutting through the spells and fighting, your lungs burning as you willed yourself to run faster.

It played out in your mind in slow motion, the light, the stone crumbling, falling.

Fred turned at the sound of your voice, a smile etched on his face from something Percy had said, but just before you could push him out of the way, the wall fell.

You halted, barely metres away, nearly losing your footing as you choked out a sob, tears streaming as you stared at Percy, who had the same stricken look on his face.

Neither of you spared a glance around you before rushing towards where the eldest twin once stood, desperate to find him, to make sure he was okay.

Removing the pieces of rubble with a desperation you didn’t know you could feel, until you found a tuft of ginger hair sticking out between two broken bricks. Your heart clenched, stuck in your throat as you revealed his face, his last smile etched onto his features.

You didn’t hear the scream that left your mouth, didn’t feel Percy gently moving you so he could remove the stones from on top of the rest of Fred’s body.

Your eyes wandered across his face, his freckled skin, the slope of his nose and down to his chapped lips. Tears fell onto his face as your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping onto the fabric of his sweater, sobs racking through your body as you ignored the battle going on around you.

“Wake up, Freddie, please wake up!”

Your pleas went unanswered, the ginger boy laying before you still, his face unwavering.

“No, please!” You sobbed. You didn’t notice Percy’s hand on your shoulder, or his heartbroken mentions to move his little brother away from the fighting - to move you away from the fighting.

You clung to Fred, not wanting to let him go, not being able to, “You gotta wake up, Fred. This isn’t funny, this isn’t a good prank. Please wake up. Please just-“

You ran a hand through his hair and wiped your tears off his cheek, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for walking away. Please. We need you. George needs you. I need you. Please.”

Your voice cracked as you spoke to him, white noise filling your ears as all you could focus on was the sight of the boy laying before you, cuts across the side of his head, his brown eyes once shining, now dull. You grabbed his hand, holding it in yours, refusing to let go.

You weren’t sure when Fred’s body was taken from you, when he was moved into the Great Hall, too shaken up to think of anything but the thought of the wall falling over and over again, playing out in your mind like a cruel nightmare, each time you were too late, barely metres too late, seconds too late to stop it.

You sobbed into George’s shoulder, his head resting on yours as you both cried.

Before anything, Fred was one of your closest friends. One of your best friends. And now you’d never get to see him smile again, never hear his laugh or get to play silly pranks with him.

You’d never hug him again, never hear his flirty comebacks and witty jokes.

And as you felt George’s clutch tighten on you, both as broken as the other at losing the person you loved the most, a grief-stricken sob escaped your lips, causing George to pull away a little to see if you were okay, his eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down his face, still so caring after losing his other half, your bottom lip trembled as you thought back over everything.

You had walked away from him. Your last words bouncing around your head - I need to go. In your haste, you never said goodbye to the boy you loved. And now you never could, would never get the chance.

George squeezed his eyes tight as he brought you closer to his chest, you grabbing a handful of his t shirt in your fist as tears streamed down both your faces. You mumbled something inaudible into his chest and he moved to hear you better. The same words fell out of your mouth over and over, between broken sobs and falling tears,

“I’m sorry, I was too late.”

-

Life;-

The first few months after the battle were difficult. You saw him in everything - in every bit of laughter, every bright colour, every joke.

You saw him in George, who’d tried his hardest to forget. He’d smashed all his mirrors, tried to dye his hair, before you found him, collapsed in a ball of sobs in the middle of his flat, whispering, “Please, bring him back.”

After living his entire life with Fred in it, he didn’t know how to live without him.

You relied on each other to get you through, taking it day by day, trying to mend your hearts, broken in different, yet very similar ways.

The nightmares were the worst.

Waking up in cold sweats, seeing the wall collapse in front of you, knowing you were too late and didn’t get to say goodbye to the boy you loved. Knowing if you were just a few seconds earlier, George would still have his twin brother by his side, laughing and making jokes like usual.

“The worst part isn’t remembering. It’s easy to remember. The worst part, the hardest part, is those times I forget to remember. I forget that he’s not here, that he’s gone. And then I remember and I feel so guilty,” you’d told George, half a year after the battle. It was nearing Christmas, a time you both used to love, yet now you were apprehensive, didn’t know how to do Christmas without Fred.

George had replied sweetly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you. And whilst it didn’t feel the same as the way Fred had hugged you before the battle, the feeling was comforting, warm and familiar, “He knew you loved him. You cared for him, watched over him to make sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. And now he gets to return the favour and watch over you.”

“He’s really gone isn’t he. He’s just... gone.”

The night you’d gone through his things with George was difficult. It was sad, sometimes overwhelming, but you also got to sit and just remember, reminding yourselves who Fred was.

With every Weasley product you found, with every photograph you came across, every sweater, broken quill and long-forgotten sketch, your sad tears began to turn into happy ones, laughing with George about your times in Hogwarts, about better days gone by.

It was funny, that even though he was gone, he could still bring smiles to your faces.

Maybe that’s why he was so special, why it hurt so much to lose him. He made the people around him happy, through everything.

You visited him often, needing to apologise, to properly say goodbye. Or just to feel like you were close to him again. To thank him for all he’d done, for allowing you to love him how you did. For being such an important person in so many people’s lives.

Wiping a tear that fell down your cheek, your hand reached out to hold onto the gravestone before you for balance, smiling through your tears as your fingers ran across his name, engraved on the stone.

‘Fred Weasley

1st April 1978 - 2nd May 1998’

You kneeled down, placing a single flower across the grass in front of the stone. It’d been years since you’d lost Fred and somehow the pain got worse every day.

But you knew, with time, things would get better. You’d find your happiness, and learn to move on.

All you had to do was wait for it.

[cucumbers-and-olives]

Enemies to Lovers Part 3

masterlist  <<part 1 <part 2 part 3 part 4 (coming soon!) >

Summary: You leave the Gillespie house and head to the airport with Charlie after an eventful two weeks. While at the airport, your flight gets delayed and you learn of some interesting news...

Category: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

Fandom: JATP

Paring: Charlie Gillespie x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings/Includes: arguing/fighting, small panic attack, cringy songs i wrote

A/N: so... i can never post on time. and i know its been a while since i posted the last chapter. i really hope you guys like this chapter! please reblog and comment and let me know what you think! your support means everything, and keeps me going, so thank you.

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: thank you to @wrhen for giving me help and feedback with this chapter!

AO3 link here (coming soon!)

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 @cucumbersandolives. Thank you!

Ice & Fire, and Enemies to Lovers are both my own songs that I wrote. All song rights go to me.

“Charlie! Y/N! Your cab is here!” Ms.Gillespie called. You checked under the bed one last time before grabbing your suitcase and backpack.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality Ms.Gillespie,” You said, walking up to her. “If you hadn’t invited me I would have spent Christmas alone, and this was so much better.”

“Christmas alone? What a loser,” Charlie remarked as he put his bag into the trunk of the cab. You just rolled your eyes.

“Charlie, be a gentleman and grab her suitcase.” Ms.Gillespie said with a calm yet authoritative tone. He grabbed your suitcase and did as he was told. “I’m sorry about him, but I’m happy you had a good time. Maybe you can join us next year?”

“I would be honored,” You said, taking a last glance around the house you had stayed at for the past two weeks.

“Hey! Let’s go!” Charlie hollered from outside. “We’re gonna miss the flight!”

“Thank you, Ms.Gillespie,” You adjusted your backpack and stepped outside to the man who had become a whiny teenager.

“Finally,” He said as you sat down. “She’s my mother, not yours.”

“I’m sorry about him,” You said to the lady in the driver's seat. “We’re all ready to go now, sorry for the wait.”

She nodded and began to drive. The scenery was nice, but it only took a couple of minutes for you to start yelling at Charlie.

“Fuck this,” You pulled out his earbud. The niceties could stop now that his mother wasn’t here. “I have tried to be nice to you this whole time, but now I can say this: You want to act like a little boy throwing a hissy fit? Fine, be my guest. But at least do it in someone else’s company, I have been nothing but kind to you, you-” You almost cussed again, but you reined yourself in. He was worth your anger but not that much of it.

He just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Whatever you say, princess.” His words, taken in another context, could have easily been mistaken for something other than the daggers they were.

~

“It’s delayed,” He said, and that simple fact destroyed the rest of the day. “The plane has some issue. They think it’ll be at least two hours, if not more.”

“God, every time I try to like airports, something bad happens,” You said, slumping back into the uncomfortable airport chairs. You knew it wasn’t the airline’s fault, (well it kinda was), but you needed to get back to work. You fiddled with the cord on your headphones before putting them back on.

“Ah- Not so fast,” Charlie said, blocking you from putting them on. He showed you who was calling him. “If I have to talk to the boss man,” He said, referring to Kenny, “Then you do too.”

“See but I don’t,” You said, as you received a different call. “I have a different boss to talk to.”

“I mean, I’m not your boss-” The girl on the other end of the phone said, but Charlie cut her off.

“Are you actually going to talk to Jadah?” He said, about to accept Kenny’s call.

“No, Charlie. Sav’s phone died, so you talk to your boss and I’ll talk to mine.” You walked around for a bit to find a quieter corner of the airport.

“You okay, Y/N?” Jadah asked, finally.

“No, but that's for another time. What’s up?”

“So… Kenny is telling Charlie about the song showcase, but there’s one thing that he’ll leave out.” She said, leaving you on a cliffhanger.

“That is?” You said, prompting her.

“I- I may have slipped him your demos?” Jadah said slowly, and at that moment, all sense of keeping up public appearances went out the window.

“Jadah! Those were not yours to share! In any capacity!” You took a deep breath and asked your first question. “Where did you get them? I thought that the sound guy and I were the only ones with copies?” “I may have bribed him for a copy,” She said sheepishly. Even though you couldn’t see her, you knew she was nervous.

“Jadah, I have one other question.” You paused, trying to figure out how to ask nicely. “Which songs did you give him? Cause if you gave him Enemies-”

“I gave him Ice & Fire, Enemies to Lovers, and I can’t remember the third one. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not.” You were, a little bit. “Can you put Savannah on the phone though?” She gave a quick yes, and you could hear the phone being passed between hands.

“Y/N?” Savannah said.

“Did you know? A-about the demos,” You clarified.

“I knew you recorded them, and Jadah had me listen to them. You are amazing!”

“Thank you,” You said. “Uh, E.T.L. isn’t finished yet, but I had the time in the studio so I recorded it.” “Y/N, if you want to be a songwriter, you would be amazing!” She said, but you could tell what she meant.

“I won’t leave you in the middle of a show, Sav.” You were honest with your words. “I know.” She paused. You both knew what amazing opportunities would open up if you did. “Hold on one second, I’m going to go on mute really quick, okay?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You could see Charlie coming towards you. His walk had a purpose, but one that was unknown to you.

“Hello, Mr.Ortega! How can I help?” You put your hand out to Charlie, signaling to him that if he talked he would be dead as Kenny spoke.

“I’m not sure if the girls have told you, but we’d love to have you perform your songs at the showcase.” He said, and you chose your words wisely, so that way Charlie wouldn’t know.

“I’d love to! What time, and which ones would you like to hear?” You asked, as you pulled out a pen and rolled up your sleeves.

“Ice & Fire, Enemies to Lovers or uh, E.T.L., I believe that was how Jadah referred to it?” He said, and you could tell he wasn’t sure what to call it.

“Yeah, I can do that, any others?” You said, scribbling down quick abbreviations of the titles.

“Oh there was one more, How to Be a Heartbreaker, I loved that one.” He said, pausing. “And I believe that Jadah mentioned that you had a few others? If you want to pick one or two, that would be great!”

“Alright! I know it’s weird to ask this, but no one has given me any details, so what time is the showcase, and where is it?” You asked, excited for the opportunity to perform.

“4:30 this afternoon, in dance studio A.” You wrote down the time quickly.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be landing from my flight only an hour before that.”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You can do it.”

You scoffed a bit as the call ended. “Fuck.” You cussed under your breath.

“Wow, you talked to Kenny, and that's your response to a conversation with him? Anyways, I’m going to grab a coffee, want one?” He offered.

“Uh, I’ll just take a muffin, if they have one.” As you walked away, your brain was moving a mile a minute as you tried to figure out how everything would work.

“C’mon Y/L/N, if there’s one thing you can figure out, it’s making this work. You can do this.”

~

“Owen!” You said, running over to him.

“Hi!” He said giving you a hug, and then he looked at you. “Sav told me, you look like a mess.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, can you fix my necklace?” You said pointing to the jumbled mess it had gotten into around your neck.

“Yeah, ‘course, turn around,'' He said, and you did so. He got surprisingly close as you moved your hair away from your neck, and as he fiddled with it, you could see Charlie out of the corner of your eye. He had a look that you couldn’t put your finger on, but it almost seemed like… jealousy?

“All done!” He said, patting you on the back.

“Thank you,” You said, adjusting your sweatshirt a bit.

“You got this,” He said, grabbing your hand. “Okay?”

“Okay-” You said, but Kenny’s voice rose above everyone else's.

“Hello everyone! If you could turn your attention to the mirror, that would be great!” Everyone’s eyes turned to him, standing on a chair with a mic in hand. “Here's how this is going to work. I’d like our lovely leads to come to the mirror. Anyone else who isn’t singing can stand off of the dance floor over there,” He pointed to an area.

“If you are singing, you can follow me,” Paul said, raising his hand.

“Okay, go!” Kenny said, and as you followed Paul, you could hear him as a question. “Where is Charlie? Jeremy, check that bathroom, and Owen, look in the break room.”

~

“That was amazing Anna! Okay, who is next?” Kenny said, motioning to the person in front of you to come out. “Ah, Kevin, what do you have for us?”

Kevin began to talk, but it was hard to hear anything over your beating heart. You tried to take deep breaths, but it just got louder, and your worries began to overwhelm you. You took a step back in the line, making your way to the back. That would give you some time to overcome your worries before you went out there.

The line seemed to move a warp speed, because before you knew it, Kenny was calling your name.

“Y/N? Are you back there?” He asked, and you could hear everyone start to whisper when you didn’t respond.

“Yeah, gimme one second!” You said, fixing your shirt a bit. You got this. You can do it.

As you stepped out onto the stage Kenny’s face lit up. “There you are! How was the flight?” His eyes were kind, but as you looked into the audience, there were many shook faces.

“It was rough, but I’m happy to be here,” You said, sitting down in the chair in the middle of the stage. You kept taking deep breaths, trying, desperately to calm your nerves.

“I know you have a couple, so whenever you are ready, just say the song's name, and what characters you wrote it for,” Kenny explained. You looked around to see who was there. There was the choreo team, some Netflix executives, the lead cast, and a couple of other people who you didn’t recognize.

“This is lce & Fire, and I pictured Alex and Willie singing it.”

“Oh the desire

Like Ice & Fire

Shout it out loud

They won’t bring us down

Not a disgrace

We’ve made mistakes

Our love is strong

So sing along

I’ve been looking for you for so long

(I couldn’t find you)

Now that I’ve met you I’ve

Done something wrong

Oh, Ohhhh, Oh

Oh the desire

Like Ice & Fire

Shout it out loud

They can’t pull us down

Runnin’ from our past

Met in a crash

Through thick and thin

We can win

I’ve been looking for you for so long

(I couldn’t find you)

Now that I’ve met you I’ve

Done something wrong

Oh, Ohhhh, Oh

The forces pullin’ us together

Can’t stop, won’t stop

Oh hold on a little longer now

We’re Ice & Fire

(Fire)

Two parts of one

(One)

Can’t you see the passion in my eyes

Of Ice & Fire.”

As you finished, the final chord rang out from your guitar. The room was silent until Kenny spoke.

“That was wonderful! Booboo, Owen, what do you all think?” He said, turning to the actors for their opinion.

Booboo nodded to Owen. “Well, I think that your song embodies the characters really well. Uh, I definitely would love to sing it in the show, and I, uh personally can see our characters singing it. You wanna go?”

“Yeah, I agree with Owen on so many levels. I’d love to sing Ice & Fire, if that's okay with you Kenny,” Booboo turned to Kenny and the smile that was on his face was slowly mirrored on yours.

“Let’s do it! You wanna sing any others?” The room held its breath waiting for a response. And so did you.

Your first song had passed the test. Made it through. Your knee started bouncing again and you looked up to Savannah.

You got this. She mouthed.

You cleared your throat and moved the capo on your guitar. “Yeah, uh, this one is called Enemies to Lovers, and I didn’t write this one about any specific characters so it can be changed to fit any of them.”

You started singing and getting into the song. A door creaked open and you looked up, curious, and you continued to sing and play.

It was Charlie. He looked like a mess, like he had just gone to hell and back. Moving among the cast to find his seat, he didn’t notice you singing. Until you started the chorus.

It’s like we’re written in the stars,

Enemies to Lovers

Swinging past the bars,

Baby, we’ll discover-

You, me, we’re not so different,

You, me, we always win it,

You and me, we’re better than we seem,

Enemies

He watched you as you sang, and you, in turn, watched him. As you went into the chorus for a second time, you saw something change in his face. A realization or something, and you turned back to face Kenny as you finished the song.

We are written in the stars,

That's how we became

Well, what we are

Bicker hard and far,

Maybe we’ll discover-

You, me, we are different,

You, me, we can’t beat it,

You and me, we’re worse off than we seemed

You strummed your guitar, leaving the song and the story unfinished.

“That was amazing, unfortunately, I don’t think we have space for it in our show.” He smiled. “Someone will contact you about using Ice & Fire.”

The panel along with the rest of the room, packed up their things and started to leave until just you and the main cast remained. You started to walk out of the room when someone called out.

“Y/N! Wait!”

It was Charlie.

You looked at him, “Yes?”

“What the fuck was that song? Who’d you write it about?” He asked, like a love struck boy.

“I wrote it about you, duh!” You watched his face turn into one of- slight happiness? You laughed and started to walk away. Of course, he would think it’s about him, but why would it be? “Fuck you, Charlie. I didn’t think you were that self-centered!”

“I’m not!”He countered, and you stopped walking to look at him.

“Really? Cause only a self-centered person would ask me that… Or, do you have a crush on me? Aww, that’s so sweet!” You mocked. “See you around, lover boy.”

~

I really hope you liked that chapter! Let me know what you thought!

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If your url has a strike through, please message me.

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Charlie: @thesweetestsinner

[is-it-madness]

Pastries and Pain

A/N: This is for @fanfictionaries​ Classic Tropes Writing Challenge. Congrats on the 300 darling!!! 🥳🎉🥳 The prompt I chose was Fake Dating!AU with the charming Loki. And thank you to my darling beta @wowjeena​ I LOVE YOU 💜💜💜

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: Mentions of abusive relationship, abuse, sexual innuendos

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: Nat and Wanda keep setting you up for dates. You need to figure out how to avoid them.

~~~

“You did what?!” You glare angrily at Natasha and Wanda. 

They don’t even bother hiding their looks of amusement. 

“We set you up on a blind date,” Nat tells you with a smirk.

“You said you wouldn’t do that anymore!” Last year, after they discovered you hadn't been on a date since you broke up with your abusive ex a few years ago, they felt obligated to find you a suitable boyfriend. Blind date after blind date. The dates were all just okay. Nat and Wanda made sure not to let you go out with anyone creepy, which helped, but none of the dates sparked your interest. After a few weeks of repeated fails, you asked—no begged them to stop. They only agreed when you swore you would find your own partner.

“Honey,” Nat begins, “did you ever end up finding a date for yourself?”

You glare at her in response.

“You promised us you would! You didn’t and it’s been months,” Wanda scolds you.

“I’m just too busy to be emotionally invested in someone right now, okay?” At least that was true. What with helping out on missions and working in the lab, you were always exhausted by the end of the day. You never saw anyone anymore, besides your team, and sometimes you would even go days without seeing them. You would be holed up in the lab or out in the field—you just didn’t have time to throw your emotions into the mix.

“Well not tonight,” Nat says triumphantly.

“Tonight?!” you squeak.

They both give you a wicked smile and drag you back to Nat’s room to get you ready for the evening. 

You argue with your so-called friends about the date. You plead with them.

“I’ll find my own date, you guys! Just please don’t make me do this!”

Wanda laughs and shakes her head while Nat reprimands you.

“Are you seriously gonna stand him up? That is so not like you.”

You sigh. Nat is right. Of course. So you begrudgingly slip into the soft, dark green dress they laid out for you. The halter neck and deep V decolletage lead to the cinched waist showcasing your figure and the skirt reaching just above your knees. You put on some light makeup and pull your hair back into two cute buns with a few pieces framing your face. Nat and Wanda sit fussing over you, before they finally let you out of the room.

They walk you past the living room to the elevator, but you stop in your tracks when Tony calls your name. You turn to see the rest of the team lounging around. This is the first Friday in weeks where everyone’s at the Tower, not having to rush off to missions or save the world.

“Where are you guys going?” Tony asks. He gives you a double-take. “What’s with the dress?”

When he asks that, the rest of the team turns to look at you. You immediately feel the heat rising to your face.

“Nat and Wanda thought it would be a good idea if I went out for a bit,” you mumble.

“Did you two set her up for another date?” Steve questions them knowingly.

Nat smirks and Wanda nods happily.

“Well, you look wonderful,” Thor beams at you and you return the smile. “Would you not say so, brother?”

The God of Mischief sitting next to Thor gave you a once over.

He gives a single shoulder shrug and says, “Unsightly.”

You smile sweetly at him. “Oh, thank goodness! I was worried you were going to say I look as grotesque as you.”

“Alright boys, you can give your fashion critique later,” Nat says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “We have a date to get to.”

~~~

His name is Michael. He was very sweet, albeit nervous when the two of you sat down for dinner. You learn he works in the IT department for Stark Industries, he runs a hand through his short, brown hair when he’s nervous, and his deep blue eyes sparkle when he tells you about his interests.

“So, you’re part of the Avengers, right?” he asks, carding a hand through his locks.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you tell him with a laugh.

“What made you decide to start dating again?”

You shake your head in amusement. “My friends are very convincing.”

The rest of the night goes along smoothly with the conversation stuttering only a few times. 

When he walks you to your car, he runs a hand through his hair before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. He tells you good night and hurries back to his car.

You sigh, slightly exasperated, before sliding into your car.

~~~

“So, how’d it go?”

You release your hair from its hold and it cascades around you. “It wasn’t bad. He was nice.”

Nat smiles. “So are you gonna see him again?”

You contemplate her question. Were you going to see him again? Sure he was nice and not bad looking, but just like all your previously failed dates, there was… nothing. You didn’t feel a connection when you spoke, the both of you kept the conversation basic. You didn’t feel a spark when he kissed you. It was no different than the friendly kisses Thor would give you as greetings.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Nat.” 

“Don’t worry about it, babe. Wanda and I will just keep looking for you.”

“It’s okay, Nat. You really don’t have to do this.”

She waves you off. “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t help you?”

“That’s just it, Nat! You don’t have to help me. It’s not a big deal.”

But she isn’t listening.

~~~

A week goes by and so do five other dates. You had to cut the last one short because you were just too exhausted. You couldn’t keep doing this. It was too much. But you knew Nat and Wanda were relentless. Nothing would make them stop until you had a boyfriend.

You pace around your room, coming up with excuse after excuse to try to skip the impending date they have planned for you. You come to the conclusion that the only way they would leave you alone is if you were in a relationship. You abruptly stop pacing. Maybe if you had someone fill the position. Maybe… maybe someone could pretend to be your boyfriend—at least for a short time. Just to get the girls off your back. You start formulating a plan. But for this plan to work, you needed someone cunning, someone who could keep a secret, someone who was stealthy, and preferably, someone already on the team.

A name comes to you and you immediately head to the library with a smirk on your face, but the whole time your mind is screaming that THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!

You find the God in his usual seat, his legs spread wide, and a book in hand. He sits in the far corner of the library, which also happened to be your spot too. 

“Loki! I need you.”

He smirks and looks up from his book, “In your bed or mine?”

“I don’t have time for your smart mouth right now! This is serious!”

He quirks a brow.

“I need you to go on a ‘date’ with me,” you say, putting up air quotes.

He stares at you for a good thirty seconds before he gives you an eloquent response. 

“What?”

You feel yourself turn bright pink. “Please, Loki! I can’t take Nat and Wanda setting me up on blind dates anymore, it’s just too much. Please? If I find my own date, they’ll leave me alone,” you explain to him, internally begging him to agree to your plan.

“I’m not sure I follow,” he tells you slowly. “You wish for me to court you, but not as a real courtship?”

You nod hastily. “Exactly.”

He squints at you. “No.”

You’re shocked. “What? Why not?”

He smirks at you. “Firstly, your team will not take lightly to the matter of us courting. Secondly, there is not a chance they would believe you have fallen for me, even with my good looks and charm,” he continues to tick off. “Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, how long would you allow this to drag out? One week? A month? A year? So no, I do not think I wish to partake in your foolish endeavor.”

“But you wouldn’t need to worry about any of that!” You continue adamantly. “I’ve already thought it out!”

He gives you an amused look. “Alright, I’ll listen to your hairbrained scheme.”

You glower at him. Maybe you should’ve picked someone else for this, but it’s too late now. He already knows what you’re planning.

“One, I won’t tell the team who I’m seeing, we can just meet up somewhere outside the building. And if I act like I’m in love with someone, and we stay… y’know, mean to each other, they won’t get suspicious. Your second point is irrelevant, because they won’t know it’s you that I’m ‘dating.’” His nostrils flare and his jaw ticks but you plow ahead. “And lastly, we won’t have to keep this charade up for long. I’ll just say you ‘broke up with me’ and I’ll be too ‘heartbroken’ to consider dating for a while.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply. “Out of the goodness of my own heart, and the desire to only create mischief… fine.”

Your eyes widen, “You’ll do it?”

“I suppose I have nothing more exciting to attend to. And besides,” he looks up to give you a smirk. “I am eager to see this come crashing down around you.”

~~~

“I was thinking for your next date, you should go to the park,” Nat tells you a few days later.

You smile at her. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

She glares at you. “You’re not getting out of this. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m going to keep finding you dates until we find the right one.”

You shake your head and laugh. “It’s not necessary because I found my own date.”

Her spoon falls with a clatter into her bowl of cereal. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say you found your own date?!”

“I don’t understand why that’s so unbelievable, Nat.” You place a hand on your heart. “I’m hurt.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she apologizes with a laugh, but her eyes sparkle with glee. “So what’s his name?”

“It’s a secret.”

“What?! You can’t not tell me!”

“Well, this is our first date. So what’s the point of putting a name to a face if I’m not sure if this’ll work out?”

“Okay fine,” she pauses. “Well, where’d you two meet?”

“Oh, you know,” you say with a small smile and a shrug. “Around.”

She folds her arms. “I need info so I can run tests on him,” she chides. “Need to make sure he’s not a threat.”

“Don’t worry, he’s no threat.”

She sighs and throws her hands in the air. “Fine, I get it. You don’t want to talk about him yet. But if anything sketchy happens, you need to tell me immediately.”

“I promise.” 

She takes her bowl to the sink and starts washing her dishes. 

“And no stalking us!”

She sends you a smirk over her shoulder. 

~~~

Early afternoon, the next day, you wait for Loki at a nearby cafe for your ‘date,’ but he’s nowhere to be seen. Sure, the two of you didn’t exactly get along, with his snark and your sarcasm, you would usually wage verbal wars against each other. But you didn’t think he would just leave you, he said he wanted to see your plan fail, so you thought for sure he would be waiting for you. Your smile falters a bit, but you shake your head. You don’t need him. You’ll just do this on your own. You decide to leave and head to the park instead, since it’s a pretty day out. 

“Considering this was your plan, I did not assume you would leave without me,” you hear a silky voice behind you say.

You turn around to see Loki walking behind you with a smirk.

You huff. “For your information, I thought you left without me.”

“Why would I do that?”

You fold your arms. “Well, you weren’t down here. I figured you agreed to this just to make me look like a fool.”

His smirk only grows. “I would not do that, especially not when you are so desperate.”

“Are you sure you didn’t show up late just for kicks and giggles?”

“If you must know, since you’re so adamant on believing that I would just leave you, I went to purchase these for you.” He conjures a bouquet of flowers and hands them to you. You thank him sheepishly. 

He nods. “I felt like it would seem strange if you returned home without a gift, as you usually returned carrying a gift from your possible suitors.”

“That’s... thoughtful of you.”

He gives you another curt nod.

“Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“So, what do you wanna do?” you ask him. “You’ve never had a chance to explore when you came back from Asgard, we could see whatever you want.”

“I could not care less where we venture to, as long as we hurry up. I have reading to get back to.”

You roll your eyes. Just when you thought he was starting to be friendly, he goes and says something like that.

“Well, if you really don’t want to be here, I'll just go on a walk on my own. You’ve done your part.” You gesture to the flowers. “And you gave me evidence, so I guess I’ll see you later.”

He stares at you, emotionless. 

“Enjoy your book.” You clutch your flowers, trying to reel your emotions back in and start walking in the direction towards the park. 

He catches up to you and releases an audible sigh. “I suppose I could spend some time out of that helhole. It has become rather monotonous. Perhaps you would be suitable entertainment.”

You just shrug, not trusting yourself to not retort back with a scathing comment.

“So, where are we headed?”

“Preferably somewhere I won’t have to pay attention to your existence,” you snap.

His green eyes flash dangerously and he grabs you by the arm, forcing you to face him. “Listen here, mortal,” he seethes. “It may have slipped your notice, but I have done not one, but two favors for you.”

Your cool demeanor snaps in a fiery explosion. “Oh really? Is the favor you being rude to me? Or is it the fact that you can’t find it in yourself to say one, just one, polite thing to me. Oh, I know! It’s probably your side remarks that you love to make, or the fact that you say the most hurtful things to me, because apparently, you seem to think I don’t have emotions. Have you ever considered the weight of your words, even once?!” Tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of him, you refuse to give him something else to hold against you. “Have you ever thought twice about calling me ugly, or useless, or slow, or weak. Well, guess what.”

He releases his hold on you and takes a step back.

“I get it, okay?! I get it! I’m ugly? Great! You’re not the first person to tell me that! I’m useless? People who were close to me, would tell me that constantly. That’s old news to me! I’m slow? At least I stay alive during our missions! I’m weak? Okay then! I don’t know what else to tell ya buddy! I’m sorry I’m no super soldier!” Your chest is heaving from your outburst and Loki opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “You know what?” You begin quietly. “I’m absolutely not as strong as the rest of the team, but I’ve been through stuff that’s made me a stronger person. I’ve learned things the hard way, and I’ve learned that I don’t need hurtful people like you in my life.”

Loki stares at you, mouth slightly agape. You spin around and toss the flowers in the trash. “Have fun reading.” You don’t look back as you continue to walk through the streets.  

~~~

You return to the Tower later that evening. After your temper, you spend the most of the day in the park. You wander through the city and stumble upon a quaint little bookstore, sandwiched between a diner and a clothing store. You buy several books before heading home.

The elevator gets closer to the common floor and you take a deep breath. The elevator dings and you force a smile on your face.

“Hey beautiful!” Nat calls to you from the couch. 

The entire team, sprawled around, looks up.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks you.

You internally breathe a sigh of relief. So Lo—so he didn’t blow your story. Good. The man in question was currently paying no attention to you.

“It was great!” you fib. “We went to the park, and we found a cute bookstore not far from here,” you say with a nod to the stack of books in your arms.

Wanda’s face splits into a grin. “Will you be seeing him again?” she asks eagerly. 

You see Thor’s brother, in your peripheral vision, subtly turn to look at you, but you refuse to acknowledge him. 

“Yeah I am! I’ll be going out for breakfast tomorrow, at the cafe. ”

“The one with the chocolate pastries?” Nat asks you.

“Yup. And no following me, Nat! I know what you’re thinking!”

She huffs and crosses her arms.

“Well, I’ve had a long day and I’m exhausted. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

The team bids you good night and you head down the hall to your room. You can feel the God of Mischief watching you.

~~~

Early the next morning you drag yourself out of bed and start getting ready. The reward? Pastries. You shower then hop, wiggle, and shimmie into some jeans and pull on a dark blue blouse before making your way to the elevator.

You make it outside without running into anyone. You walk a few blocks to the cafe with your favorite chocolate sweets. You discovered it a while back and later introduced it to the team. As soon as you step in, you inhale the heavenly goodness of coffee roasting, bread baking, and chocolate melting. The little old lady behind the counter recognizes you and prepares your order for you before you have a chance to say anything. You thank her and pay before you find a table in the corner of the store to sit at. You watch the world pass by through the large glass windows. It was still quiet out—or at least quiet for New York—and you close your eyes, relishing in the peace that was sorely lacking while you were in the Tower.

“You do realize it is rude to leave your date behind, yes?” Someone asks you.

You snap your eyes open to see the raven-haired god sitting across from you, the smirk as present as always.

You glare at him. “Why the hell are you here? I don’t recall inviting you.”

He conjures a dagger and splits your pastry in two. He takes a piece and sinks his teeth into it. His eyes flutter close, lashing splaying out across his sharp cheekbones and he moans slightly at the warm confection. You feel a heat rise to your cheeks and your stomach flips. This is the first time you’ve heard him make such an obscene sound. You didn’t expect it to make you press your thighs together.      

“On the contrary, you did invite me.” He pauses to open his eyes, only to be met with your flushed face. He gives you a smirk. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you scowl at him, quickly composing yourself. “And like I said, I don’t remember inviting you.”

 “Oh dear, have you forgotten about your own scheme?”

“No, I haven’t,” you bristle. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be here.”

He chuckles. “Yes I do. I am fulfilling my promise I made you.”

“How gentlemanly of you,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “You made it quite clear you didn’t want to do this.”

He leans forward and folds his hands. “Listen, in light of recent events, I have taken into consideration our previous conversation. And although we do not have the, ah, best attitude towards one another, I agreed to assist you in your time of need. And I will see to it that your plan continues along accordingly.”

“Well, you’re wasting your time, ‘cause I don’t need you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “At least allow me to attempt to be your faux suitor. To make up for my ghastly behavior towards you.”

You continue to glare at him with your arms crossed. You wait to see a glint of mischief in his emerald eyes, or the tell-tale sign of a smirk, but his face remains solemn.

You let out a sigh of defeat. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep this guise up for long if you did it alone. 

“Fine,” you agree reluctantly.

He sits up straight and snatches the second half of your pastry. “Excellent.”

“Hey!”

“What?” he asks innocently, already biting into your breakfast. “I am absolutely famished.”

You just grumble as he licks his fingers clean. Again, your stomach decides to flutter, without your permission.

“Hello, dear.” You look up to see the older lady has approached you and Loki. “Can I get anything else for you?”

You smile back at her. “No thank you.”

She gives a questioning look to Loki. “And who is this? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, young man.” 

Loki flashes her a charming smile. “Greetings madame.” He stands, gently takes her hand and places a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“This... is my boyfriend,” you tell her through clenched teeth.

She turns to look at you. You detect the slightest tinge of pink to her cheeks. 

“Well, you certainly are lucky to have such a gentleman.”

You barely restrain rolling your eyes, while Loki chuckles and gives a slight shake of his head.

“I hate to contradict madame, but it is I who is the lucky one.” He sits back down and takes your hands in his. He looks at you softly. You look back at him, confused. 

“The first moment I set eyes on her, my heart nearly stopped. And her smile… her smile sent me straight to Valhalla. I never believed the Fates would allow me to meet someone so kind, so gentle, so beautiful. I am grateful to have the honor to call her my beloved. She means more to me than any riches imaginable.”

You blush as the old lady places a hand to her heart and sighs.

“He’s a keeper,” she tells you. “Much better than the last one. This one won’t lay a hand on you.”

You feel Loki staring hard at you, his grip on your hands tighten ever so slightly.

You stand abruptly, Loki still refusing to let go. “Well, we really should be going. We have a few plans today.”

“Yes, of course,” Loki says.

Both of you thank the old lady. You can’t get out of there fast enough. 

The sunlight hits your face as you step outside, but you can’t help the shiver that courses through you. Your past hits you in flashes. Bruised and bloodied skin. Hands raised, only to be brought down against your body with rage. Long sleeves and concealer were a must if you went out. Nights spent huddled in bed, silently crying from pain.

You dimly realize someone is shaking you by your shoulders, calling your name.

You look up to see Loki watching you intently, his brow furrowed.

“What did she mean?” he asks you, his voice a deadly calm.

“It’s nothing,” you brush him off. “It’s not like you’d care anyways,” you mumble under your breath.

Whether he heard you or not, he didn’t show.

He gives you a hard stare for another second before dropping his hands.  

“What would you like to do?”

“Huh?” 

He sighs. “For our outing. Where would you wish to go?”

“Oh. Yeah, right. Um. Maybe we could go to the bookstore I found?”

“Done.” He holds out his arm for you and you tentatively slip your hand in. “Lead the way.”

A smile pulls at your lips and you tug him in the direction of the bookstore.

After you both buy several books, you spend the rest of your day taking Loki to your favorite spots around the city. You take him to a garden in Central Park and he tells you about his mother’s garden. He buys you ice cream because ‘I suppose you deserve it after I took your breakfast.’

~~~

The next few weeks, you and Loki alternate taking the other places. Loki takes you for lunch, you take him to the movies. He takes you to a museum and you take him to dinner. The two of you begin bonding and slowly the animosity begins to fade. After the second month, you realize that you actually like being in his company. You made each other laugh and were able to discuss things to great lengths that you couldn’t do with anyone else on the team. The two of you would always be careful, leaving the Tower separately, coming home separately. You both also agreed to continue your banter at home, lest anyone become suspicious. But there were days when Nat would have to snap you out of your daydreams—er thoughts, and she would give you a little smirk. She never asked what you were thinking about, but the pink staining your cheeks would give her the answer she needed.

The nights you spend tossing and turning in bed become more frequent.

I’ll tell him tomorrow.

Tomorrow’s the day.

I’ll end this tomorrow.

You kept postponing the termination of this… relationship you had with Loki. Sure it would’ve been easier to do after the first week you put your plan in motion, but that would have only spurred Nat further. You didn’t need that. So you simply kept putting it off and chose to ignore it as days became weeks. Surprisingly enough, you found a kindred spirit in Loki. He wasn’t as bad as you had originally believed. He made you laugh and think critically and roll your eyes at his dramatic flair and antics. You can’t help but feel as though you and Loki connected. You can’t help but feel as though you’re falling for him. With his sparkling eyes, mischievous smile, and surprisingly, his kind heart. It shocked you at first. You always saw him as Thor’s maniacal and evil younger brother. But now that you’ve spent more time with him, you discover that it was just a facade that he put up. He didn’t want people to get close to him, he knew what they thought of him, so that’s what he showed them. It broke your heart when you found out how hurt and abused he was. Just because he never told you outright, doesn’t mean you didn’t see it. You felt awful though, for only barely realizing this. You should have paid more attention to the way he sometimes flinched or the way his eyes would slightly widen with fear at the mention of fire, or when someone on the team would mention abuse. 

If only he knew about your past relationship. You never brought it up after the slip in the bakery and Loki didn’t pry, which you were extremely grateful for. You weren’t sure you could discuss it, it was too harrowing and you wanted to leave your past there. In the past. But you should have known it would rear its ugly head one of these days.

~~~

You had promised Loki you’d take him back to the little slice of Valhalla that he so fondly nicknamed the bakery.

“Please!” he practically begs you as the two of you walk down the street, hand in hand. “How else do you expect me to survive in your company? I require payment!”

“Payment?!” you repeat incredulously. “Payment for what?”

He sighs dramatically. “For having to endure your nonsense.”

You laugh. “I should be the one getting paid for having to put up with you!” 

He gives you a smirk. “Come now darling, you know you love me.”

Your heart gets caught in your throat at those words. You give Loki a shaky laugh, hoping he doesn’t realize how close to the truth he was.

“Fine,” you sigh exasperatedly. “We’re heading in that direction anyways.”

He gives you another smirk and your heart flutters again. You really need to get your emotions under control. You didn’t have it in you to deal with a heartbreak, it was obvious Loki hadn’t fallen for you. 

“How about you wait out here, darling?” he asks when you two reach the bakery. “I’ll be just a few moments.”

You nod and he gives you a small smile before making his way inside.

You groan slightly and rub your temple. You are not supposed to be falling for him! This shouldn’t be happening. You need to get your emotions in check, otherwise… well, you didn’t want to think about what would happen if you didn’t.

You’re lost in thought when you hear your name being called. Before you have a chance to turn around, arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you into a hug from behind.

Your heart drops. You knew that voice, that hug that used to give you butterflies, but now made you nauseous. When he releases you, you hurriedly take a few steps away and turn to face your ex.

“Chase.”

“Hey, baby!” he said with a cheerful grin. “How ya been?”

“Fine,” you say, even though you’re feeling far from it.

His eyes rake over you, and you physically had to hold down your vomit. “Well, you look good, baby.”

“Please don't call me that.”

“Listen,” he says solemnly. “I’m sorry for everything that happened between us, but I miss you. I need you back. C’mon, baby. We can be together again, don’t you want that?” he places his hands on your waist, making you tense.

You try taking a steadying breath. “No, Chase. I already told you before. I don’t want to be with you.”

His grip on your waist tightens and bites into you, and he gives you a look you were all too familiar with.

“C’mon, babe,” he says, a slight growl in his voice. “I know you’re not stupid. You already broke my heart once. Don’t do this to me again.”

Tears begin to well up. “I-I already told you. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

He glares down at you and you feel yourself shaking despite the warm day.

“You really don’t have a choice, do you?” he grabs a hold of your wrist and yanks you, not hard enough to fall, but a reminder of what he was capable of doing.

“Chase, let me go!” you try to free yourself, but he yanks you again, making you stumble.

“Don’t make a scene,” he hisses. “I know we both remember how that turned out for you last time.”

You flinch. That day… that was one of the more violent days. He pulls you along with him.

“Chase stop!” you sob desperately.

That’s when he decides to backhand you. You fall to your knees, cheek stinging fiercely as hot tears stream down your face. A rough hand is placed on your shoulder, but it’s quickly pulled back. You cradle your head between your hands, trying to protect yourself. You hear Chase yelling behind you, which is soon replaced by moans, and then the sound of someone running unsteadily across the pavement.

A gentler hand is placed on your shoulder, but you can’t help but wince away. They retreat their hand and crouch in front of you. You hear a familiar, more soothing voice, calling your name softly. You release your grasp on your face and slowly look up. It was Loki. He was watching you with such sorrow and concern, his lips tight and his brows creasing.

“That’s what she meant, wasn’t it?” he asks quietly.

You nod minutely. He offers his hands out to you and you shakily take them. He helps you to your feet, his worried face never faltering. He pulls you into a tight embrace and that’s when you completely lose it. You fist his shirt as sobs wrack through you. He doesn’t say anything to you, he just lets you release your tears.

~~~

Loki walks you back to the Tower with a protective arm around your shoulder. Miraculously you don’t run into anyone. He leads you to your room. You don’t even think to question how he knows where your room is. The burning in your cheek receded, but there’s still an intense stinging.

“Wait here, darling,” Loki says, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You sit on your bed, eyes downcast, as he heads to your bathroom. You hear the faucet running and then shut off as he returns and sits next to you. He places a finger under your chin, tilting your face up, making you look at him. He starts tending to your abused cheek, wiping it with a cool washcloth.

He growls. “That halfwit left marks on your face.”

You try for a watery smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He stops his task to look in your eyes. “I swear this will be the last.” He looks down for a moment before looking at you again, his eyes holding something different. “I… I would never hurt you.”

He looks at you so softly you nearly start crying again. You’ve never had anyone look at you with such a heartfelt gaze; it takes your breath away.

He clears his throat. “Listen darling… I realize that your plan was to keep you from having to court anyone, but… I fear I have fallen for you.” 

Your eyes widen at his confession and he quickly looks away.

“I understand if you do not feel the same… no one can love a monster.”

You take his face in your hands and force him to look at you.

“Do you mean it?” you whisper, not daring to believe it.

He stares at you long and hard. You nearly drop your hands because the silence is too overwhelming. 

“I do.”

A smile splits across your face and you crash your lips to his, taking in the feel of his soft lips, his steady arms, his comforting scent of lavender and bergamot. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap, holding you close.

You pull away to rest your forehead against his. “Well I guess that’s a good thing because I’ve fallen for you, too.”

His eyes sparkle before pulling you into another, more passionate kiss.

~~~

Later that evening, during dinner, Nat and Tony nearly lose their minds at the bruise on your face.

“WHO THE HELL DID THAT?!”

“ARE THOSE FINGERPRINTS?!”

You tell them what happened. You explain what your ex did, which only caused the rest of the team to blow up too.

“It’s okay!” You reassure them. “My boyfriend took care of him.”

Your eyes flicker to Loki, and even though he’s paying close attention to his food, you don’t miss the slight smirk on his face.

That seems to calm them down.

“At least he seems like he’s a good guy,” Wanda says thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he’s great,” you say with a small smile.

An idea occurs to you. You stand and walk around the table to Loki. You take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs across his jaw. He looks at you, mouth slightly open in shock, unsure of what was happening.

“He’s amazing,” you whisper, before capturing his lips with yours.

The team collectively blew up for the third time tonight. 

~~~

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[vintage-squid]

Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus  Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together  Word count: 10 363 

----- 

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

[colorseeingchick]

Onigiri and Second Chances

Pairing: Osamu Miya x Reader

Summary: The Black Jackals are hosting a Christmas party, and Osamu agrees to come. But there’s some details Atsumu forgot to tell him- 1, he’s supposed to mass-make Onigiri for the party, and 2, a figure from his past is making a reappearance. 

Warnings: Mostly Fluff, some Angst, suggestive content, swearing 

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays everyone! This is far from my best work but I hope its fun regardless !

Osamu swears he can see his breath crystalize before him in his kitchen as he plots the murder of his damned brother. 

Well, plotting his brother’s demise is currently secondary to the molding of the  onigiri in his hand. It feels odd, the contrast between the soft, squishy rice warming his palms as he meticulously works at it and the prickly cold that bites his forearms, bare and at the mercy of the cold air of his kitchen, unprotected by his rolled up sleeves. 

Now, you probably have a lot of questions! 

Why’s Osamu Miya making some lip-smacking onigiri at 4 pm on Christmas Eve? 

Because his bitch of a brother tricked him.

Why’s he making 70? 

Ask Atsumu smh (if it’s not abundantly clear, my boy Osamu is VERY salty).

Has he been here for like, 3 hours already? 

Yeah, he sure as hell has. 

Will he be here for a good few more?

Uh huh. 

Why? 

Well, Osamu doesn’t take onigiri lightly. 1. If he’s gonna make em for Atsumu’s party, he was gonna do em right. Even though Atsumu forgot to mention that onigiri was gonna be the special dish to Osamu- the one making the onigiri- until 10 am the day of, (I’m sure y’all get why Osamu is mad now) there wasn’t a chance in hell he was gonna let his dishes fall flat, especially for a party this big. He has a bunch of specialty flavors he’s been wanting to showcase anyways, and in the process of making so many for such a large number, he knows it’s easy to get lost in a ‘quantity over quality’ mindset. No matter the amount, Onigiri Miya’s quality never wavers (A/N: period king as you should). 

But the AC being broken? That’s not a part of his plan. And it was just kinda, icing on his metaphorical cake of reasons why he’s pissed as hell right now. It makes him question if all this effort is really worth it, at least for tonight. 

Osamu’s initially thought that, because his brother’s the host for this party, that maybe he should try to spruce up a bit, come in lookin like an acceptable counterpart to his charismatic, showy brother. But now? He’ll realistically be here in this kitchen till the time of the party, so he’ll show up lookin a lil rough. Effort that should’ve gone into his looks is not being put into his food.  If Atsumu complains, Osamu will not hesitate to shove an onigiri up his-

It’s whatever. It’s not like he has anyone he needs to impress there anyways. He’s just the onigiri twin tonight. 

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The party is in full swing when Osamu arrives. But unlike Atsumu’s usual parties, the music wasn’t blaring- it’s festive and moderate. And despite being ‘party’ attire, everyone seems a little less scandalous. I guess that’s natural when some business representatives and officials from the volleyball world are also present. Unfortunately, this does mean that Osamu is the most underdressed, but he’s come to terms with it. 

But knowing his brother, there’s no way a Miya party would be fully professional. There has to be some element of childishness or stupidity somewhere in this party-

And Osamu gets his answer when he looks up. 

Mistletoe. And lots of it. It’s not everywhere everywhere. But there’s more than one, and they are seemingly strategically placed. 

Osamu chuckles. Leave it to his brother to try and start shit. All this means is that he has to be careful to not end up in the wrong spot with some random person. He’ll be fine. 

Giant container filled with onigiri in hand, he maneuvers his way to the kitchen, nodding and smiling at his acquaintances as he goes. As he’s about to step onto the cold tile of the kitchen, he stops dead in his tracks. 

Fuck his brother. 

He didn’t say anything about you being here. Somebody’ll have to stop him from slugging his asshat of a twin across the face. 

“SAMMMMUUUU!!!!!” Speak of the devil. 

Atsumu slings his arm over his twin’s shoulder,  a cup in his other hand.

“Are ya drunk?” 

“Huh? No. Gotta keep it together! I’m the host after all.” Atsumu smiles wide, rather stupidly. 

“Great. If yer sober, that means I can beat the ever livin’ shit outta ya and yer gonna remember.” 

“Oi, oi, what did I do!? Ya just got here!” Fear shined Atsumu’s bright eyes. 

“If you could like, not beat my boyfriend up, I’d appreciate it a bit, Samu-kun,” a female voice gently chimes in. 

“Homura-chan, hello.” Osamu’s shoulders relax as his brother’s level-headed girlfriend pops up in between the two, giving Osamu a side hug only to watch Atsumu pout. 

“Homura…” Atsumu’s whine is enough for her to placate him with a tight hug, but she continues to face Osamu. 

“Why do you wanna kill him this time? Not that you’re wrong for wanting to. I’m just curious.”

“Hey!”

“He didn’t tell me they were gon be here.” Osamu’s eyes shift to you, laughing in the kitchen, talking to Hinata and Bokuto, while filling cups with hot chocolate. 

“Oh I thought you were gonna yell at him for not telling you about the onigiris till this morning.”

“That too.”

“HEY!” 

“But I guess it’s my fault they’re here. I invited them, they are my best friend after all. But I should have told you. I’m sorry, Samu.”

“No, no. Its fine Homura-chan. I just…” 

Osamu doesn’t know how to verbalize it. He’s had a crush on you since 2nd year, and it didn’t go anywhere even through college. You two knew each other pretty well, and he almost asked you out. Emphasis on almost. Being honest, he abandoned ship when he saw some guy kissing you after class one day- he figured he had waited for too long. He cut off communication with you soon after, despite your attempts to reach out. Homura had time and time again reminded Osamu that you didn’t hate him, and he did trust her. But that didn’t help him shake off the feeling you did, and always would, resent him. 

It also did not help that his stomach jumped the moment he heard your beautiful laugh resonate in the kitchen, or that his face heated up when he saw you warmly hug your cup of hot chocolate, sipping it so gently. So cute. 

He’s still whipped. Fuck. 

Homura nudges his shoulder, one hand intertwined with Atsumu’s. “We’re not gonna make you talk to them-”

“maybe...” adds in Atsumu.

“-But if they come up to ya, maybe it won’t be the worst thing.”

Osamu looks down, tightly gripping the strap attached to his container. “Okay,” he quietly agrees.

Atsumu slaps his brother’s shoulder with a smile and comments, “ya know where my clothes are, grab em if ya need em” before taking his leave to go entertain other guests.

“I’m assuming you have more containers?” Homura asks, standing by Osamu’s side.

“70 onigiris definitely do not fit in here.” Osamu smiles with his quip, and she smiles back. 

“Figured. I’ll help ya grab the rest. Go and put that down first.” She heads towards the front door, leaving him in the doorway. 

He takes a deep breath before recomposing himself, restoring his classic blank n’ bored expression. He strides into the kitchen, placing the black container down softly and attracts eyes in the process, including yours. He feels your soft gaze somehow dig into the back of his head once he swiftly turns around, walking away back to the front door. As he steps back into the winter breeze, he’s met with Homura’s knowing gaze. 

“They’re single, ya know.” 

Osamu huffs out cold hair, eyes closing at the sting of the wind. And somehow, the cold sting filling his lungs eased the fear in his stomach. 

“I look like shit.”

“Atsu said you could take his clothes. Let’s go pick somethin’ nice out for ya.” 

This is gonna be a long night. 

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Osamu sits himself on the couch, a glass of champagne in one hand. Atsumu’s maroon button-up faintly smells like his signature cologne, and although he usually hates it, something about it helps Osamu channel his brother’s cockiness confidence, which feels very helpful right about now. 

But the confidence he’s tryna channel can only do so much. Suna and Akaashi are both worried as they watch Osamu space out mid conversation. Its far from normal. Suna knows exactly what’s on his best friend’s mind, while Akaashi is astute enough to make a guess. 

“Myaa-sam.” Akaashi gently calls to Osamu. No response. 

So Suna gives him a nice kick. 

“Oi!” Osamu rubs his shin. 

“Talk to them, before ya go crazy and take us all down with ya,” Suna’s tone is flat and bored, but the intensity of the statement is clear. 

“I dunno…” 

“Myaa-sam, don’t you think it's worth a try?” Akaashi’s approach is different, soft and coaxing. 

“Ya know how awkward it’s gonna be?” His leg is bouncing now.

He wants to. Very badly. But he can’t. It might only make things worse. 

“It’s only awkward if ya make it awkward. And that’s comin’ from me. Ya know, from both of our personal experiences, waiting too long is the worst mistake you can make.” Suna turns his gaze back to the kitchen, wistfulness is his voice. 

“We fucked up. But yer gettin’ a second chance. Don’t do it again.” 

Osamu knows Suna’s pain. He knows he’s right. 

“How the hell do I even start?” 

Suna’s gaze shifts to something, or someone, else before quickly locking eyes with Akaashi. 

“Don’t run.” He then gets up wordlessly and walks away. 

Akaashi brushes his pants off before standing, a small smile resting on his face. 

“Just remember Myaa-sam, you’ll only regret the things you don’t do. It’s best to be honest,” and with that, Akaashi also walks away. 

As Osamu’s eyes trace Akaashi’s path of escape, his eyes are caught by you, happily bounding towards him- a smile on your face and onigiri in hand. 

Yeah, that’s you for sure. Osamu is caught between the nerves in his stomach and the fuzziness in his mind as you come up to him. 

“Osamu, hello! Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, L/N.”

“Can, can I sit here?”

Don’t run. 

“Yeah.”

As you sit down, he notes the distance, he notes how your arms are in front of you, he notes your smile, and he notes how your eyes shine. He notes how cute you look with the onigiri tightly held in your hands. 

“Your onigiri’s are amazing! I always knew you were a great cook, but I’m so sad I never got to try them before!”

“Thank you, L/N. These definitely aren’t my best, Tsumu didn’t tell me I needed to make em till this mornin’ so… I was worried they weren’t as good.”

A lie. He knows they’re not bad. But he wants you to think they can be much better. 

“If this is bad then I’ll definitely have to come by and try more! Because this is the best onigiri I’ve ever had. But maybe that’s because you’re the one who made em.” You quickly move on from your comment by taking a giant bite out of your onigiri, and Osamu hopes that you don’t see how intensely his face heats up. 

Are ya, flirting? With him? Nah, yer just being you, all nice and all. But that doesn’t do anything to mitigate how much you’ve just stroked his ego. 

“Sounds like classic Atsumu, to forget to tell ya something important. What was your day like? Having to prep all this so fast.” You look up at him, expectantly, eagerly ready to listen to him.

Your undivided attention does illegal things to his heart, ya know. 

But just like that, you two fall into your usual pace, as if y’all had never stopped talking in the first place. He tells you stories, you add in charismatic quips, you both share laughs, and slowly the gap between you two closes. Osamu’s hand is now empty of any glasses and lounges against the back of the chair right by your head. You, on the other hand, have your legs pulled up under you, your knees gently pushing against his thigh. 

“Oh my gosh I should be at more Black Jackals games from now on, this sounds amazing,” you say as you wipe a tear from your eye after laughing too hard. 

“If yer goin, lemme know, I can keep ya company,” Osamu lets the words fall from his mouth before he processes what he’s saying. 

You pause, soaking in his words. “Really?”

Now it’s his turn to process his offer. “Uh.. only… if yer interested-”

“I’d love that.” You smile at him, excitement clear in your voice. 

As Osamu indulges himself in the sight of your smile, he realizes that some rice clung to the corner of your face. Out of instinct and enabled by proximity, his hand resting in his lap reaches out to you. His hand caresses your jaw while his thumb drags against the corner of your mouth, down over your bottom lip. Out of shock, you could do nothing but stare at him as his eyes meet yours. 

In this moment, in this place, time has stopped. Osamu has one thought on his mind as he thumbs at your lips. 

I need to kiss them. Now.

But then he didn’t. 

Osamu sharply retracts his hand, a “ah, sorry,” running off his tongue. 

“You’re, you’re fine.” You look down, flustered. “I’ll, be right back.” Osamu sighs and feels his heart start to sting as you walk away, head lowered. 

Fuck me. I fucked up again, didn’t I? I just didn’t want to do anything they didn’t want. 

 Osamu snaps back to reality as he feels a hard slap against the back of his head. 

He’s ready to fight when he turns around, only to see Homura and Atsumu behind the couch. 

“The fuck was that, Samu?” Atsumu aggressively yell whispers. 

“What doya mean!” He knows what Atsumu means. He hates admitting Tsumu is right, but he can’t admit that. 

Homura’s disappointed glare quiets him down. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to, Osamu. But if you want it, you can’t keep running away. And don’t lead them on either, that ain’t fair.” 

“I didn’t know if they wanted to…” Hasn’t that always been the problem? Osamu is a confident guy. He pulls a lotta people, pretty consistently too. But you were different, always had been. Osamu never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to make you uncomfortable. Never wanted to ruin your friendship. But in trying to do that, once it was too late, he knew that’s exactly what he did. And he couldn’t find it in himself to do that again. 

“They want it. I know my best friend. They want you as much as you want them, headass. So if you’re not gonna make a move, I will.” With that, Homura turns on her heels and walks away, Atsumu glaring at his brother while his girlfriend pulls him along. 

That’s definitely a threat. What does it mean? Who knows! But better to not find out.

Osamu’s eyes scan the room and he finds Suna leaning up against a wall, Akaashi standing next to him. Suna’s lazy gaze makes contact with Osamu’s for a moment before closing while sipping at his hot chocolate. Akaashi’s squint also feels more piercing in this moment. 

My boys are talkin’ shit about me? Incorrect, Samu. In case you have not realized, your boys are not the type to talk in the first place. 

I deserve it this time though. He rubs the back of his neck as he stands up to stretch. 

You do regret the things you don’t do. Dammit Akaashi. Time to talk it out. 

Osamu strides through the house tryna find you. He finds you stepping down the stairs, wiping at your face. His heart shatters and he really wants nothing but to hug you. But he resists, mind determined. 

“L/N.”

“Osamu! Hi um… I’m so sorry if I’ve been bothering you.” 

“L/N.”

“I’ll just let you go, I don’t wanna make you anymore uncomfortable.”

“Y/N.” Osamu grabs your arm as you try and walk away and gently tugs you to face him. “Please. Can we talk?” 

You pause, take a deep breath, and then turn to him, eyes still ensuring him that he has your undivided attention. 

With butterflies fluttering in his stomach, he calmly speaks. “I like you.”

Your eyes widen.

“I like you a lot. Since 2nd year-”

“In college?”

“High school.” 

You shudder and tears pool in the corners of your eyes. Instinct takes over Osamu as he pulls you forward with all his weight, throwing you against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m sorry I never told ya,” he whispers to you as he rocks you side to side, your face buried in his chest and your arms tight around his back. 

“I’ve always been so scared of, hurtin ya. You were one of my close friends, and I didn’t wanna mess it up over feelings. I didn’t wanna lose ya.” 

You nuzzle against his chest as he feels you start to shake.

“But when I saw that guy kissin ya one day, I thought… I thought I lost you anyways. I realized I waited too long and that I made a mistake. And then I proceeded to do everythin’ I never wanted to do, I hurt ya and I fucked up our friendship.”

“Osamu, I never wanted him to kiss me.” Your voice cracks. 

“...What?” His eyes go wide with concern and confusion. 

“He kissed me outta the blue. I thought we were just friends but he didn’t see it that way. I was just being myself, though. But right after that I told him there was someone else I liked.” 

Osamu internally hits himself. Maybe he should just ask Atsumu to punch him. How could he be so fuckin’ stupid? 

“I was gonna confess to you after that, but that’s when you dipped on me. I didn’t know what I did, and Homura told me to talk to you and find out for myself- she said it’d be fine if I talked to you, and that I should learn to communicate with you but I… I didn’t reach out. That’s my fault.”

Osamu pulls you closer to him, crushing you as much as he could. It’s his turn to shed a few tears, in frustration and pain. He coulda been with you all this time, but he was being a headass. Maybe Homura should punch him instead. 

“I’m...I’m so so sorry Y/N. I missed ya so much.” He cradles you in his arms, a calming (self-calming) sigh falling through his lips. 

“I’ve missed you too, Samu.”

You two look at each other for a good, long moment before small smiles crawl onto your faces. Osamu pulls you against him once more. 

“Let’s try this again. I wanna get it right this time.”

“Sounds good to me.” You say, sniffles stopping and giggles rising out of your chest. 

He buries his nose into the top of your head drawing in the sweet smell of your shampoo while his hands grab onto your fluffy sweater. 

“So cute! NOW KISS.” You and Osamu jolt out of your hug when Atsumu barks. All Osamu’s (and your) friends had now come to look at you two, smiles all around. 

Akaashi smiles fondly. Suna smiles lazily, and your favorite dumb Black Jackals (Bokuto and Hinata), who were unaware of any history between you two, are now in shock while also smiling like crazy. 

“Get it, Mya-samm!” Bokuto cheers out, causing everyone to erupt into laughter. 

“Wait, wait!” Atsumu runs down the hall, jumps, and then runs right up to his twin. He then proceeds to hold a mistletoe right above yours and Osamu’s head. 

“ I’ve been waitin’ for this shit to happen for Ion even know how many years. No chickenin’ out of it this time.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it, jackass.” 

Osamu’s hands find their way to your cheeks, gently caressing it with his fingers running up and down your jaw. His eyes take their time inspecting every inch of your face, mentally mapping every beautiful feature that adorns you. With the fire hot in his stomach and his lips aching, he pulls your face to meet his, lips gently massaging yours, telling you everything he had said earlier all over again, but this time with his actions. 

He likes you. A lot. For years. And he’s missed you so much. 

He slows the kiss down, taking his time to let you feel his lips against yours. When your hands reach up to hold his face he can’t help but try and pull you closer. 

As he pulls away after a mere 30 seconds, which did indeed feel like forever, his adrenaline is pumping and his smile is uncontrollable. The whooping and hollering slowly starts to die down, not that either of you heard it while so focused on the other. 

Osamu’s eyes find Suna’s. Suna has his camera out, as per usual, but his face has a small smile on it, and he nods to his best friend. With that, he nudges Akaashi and they walk back to to the family room. 

“Alright alright let’s get going boys. We have games that need to be played.” Homura grabs Bokuto and Hinata by the arm and collar (respectively) after giving a look to you. 

In that moment, Atsumu winked at Osamu while doing the ‘okay’ sign with his hands before walking to the room with everyone else. 

It was a signal the two had established way back in high school, when he and Homura started dating. It was their nonverbal sign of permission to the other twin for guaranteed privacy- which was important in a household of shared rooms and shared, well, everything. 

“What now Samu?” You look up at him, tugging him closer now that everyone else was gone. 

“I’m not done with ya just yet.” He smiles down at you, his eyes mischievous. 

You tilt your head in confusion. 

“I’m throwin ya over my shoulder, okay?” 

“Yes but why-” 

With that, Osamu sweeps you off the floor and throws you over his right shoulder easily.

“I messed up for years of my life, and now I have to make up for lost time. I told ya I’m not done with ya just yet.” 

Osamu proceeds to carry you up the stairs, giggles falling from your mouth. 

He’s gonna make sure you know much he really likes you. He’ll shower you in so much love, there won’t be a doubt left in your mind. 

He promises.

Epilogue- the next day

As the Black Jackals all slept like logs in their rooms, the smell of pancakes and coffee filled the air, attracting some of the other guests.

Some of the other boys, Suna, Akaashi, and Osamu, had all slept over, and were the among the first to find their way to the kitchen. 

“Samu, did Y/N get home ok?” Homura asks him while flipping some pancakes at the stove. 

Rubbing his eyes as he approaches her with a cup of coffee in hand, he nods. “Happy n’ safe.” 

“I’m very glad.”

“Homura-chan, I have a question for ya.” 

“Yes?”

“You knew both of our sides of the story from a long time ago. Why did ya never say anythin’? I’m not mad but I’m tryna figure it out.”

She smiles before saying, “It didn’t feel right. I love you both. A lot, obviously. But I think we both know intervening can... make things worse. A lot worse.”

A shared memory flashes through their minds. 

“And on top of that, I don’t think it would’ve solved the real issue both of you had. I wanted y’all to be happy in a relationship, but that meant y’all would have some barriers to cross. Y’all needed to grow before you could work as a couple. So I figured time would do its work.” 

“Although!!” Atsumu’s bright voice cuts in as he marches into the kitchen, wrapping his girlfriend in his arms, “us not telling you they were coming yesterday was 100% planned.” 

“And not telling me about onigiris?”

“Yeah that was intentional. Had to keep ya away from the house long enough.” 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya, Tsumu.” 

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! The ambiguity with Suna, Osamu, and Homura was intentional, so stay tuned!!!

[crimsonbubble]

Pairing: OT8 x fem!reader

Genre: Angst (very light)/Fluff/Humor (smut)

Warnings: mentions of blood and burnings

Word Count: 1,329

Tags: @latte-fairytaekwoon @multidreams-and-desires @yunhoiseyecandy @miatsubaki23 @thorsdreams @theechaeberry @vocalyunho @tinkerbellwoo @yunhozone @hwalloween @cutemaknaegirl

Your limbs feel heavy, a slight stinging pain as you shift. You sit up, rubbing a hand over your face. An arm gets thrown over your waist, pulling you closer to something. Or someone.

Turning your head to the side, you see a young man. His hair is going in all directions and soft snores leave his parted lips. Your eyes widen, a startled gasp leaving your mouth. You lean away from him, tugging his arm off of you.

He grumbles something inaudible, flipping onto his stomach. His back is exposed, showcasing faint scars. Your eyes trail over the male’s toned back, not taking notice of the man standing behind you.

“You think he’s hot, huh?”

You jump, turning around. Your eyes meet another man. His lips are pulled into a smirk. Your face turns crimson, hiding your face in your hands. A careful hand places itself on your chin, lifting your head towards him.

“Sorry ‘bout that, sweets. Did you sleep well?”

He asks, sitting down in front of you. His eyes are soft, as he offers you a small smile. You find yourself smiling back as you respond to him. “My sleep was fine, just kinda shaken up right now.”

He chuckles lightly, glancing at the man beside you. A knock rings around the room, both of your heads spinning towards the door. The man in front of you chimes a soft ‘come in’. They push open the door, one trailing after the other.

Smiles burst onto their faces, upon seeing that you’re awake. One of the boy's faces turns sour, glaring at the man sleeping next to you. He walks over to the man and winds his hand back.

Just as he was about to strike his hand down, the sleeping male wakes up and grabs his wrist. Twisting it and pinning him to the floor. "Touch me and I'll bite."

The topless man lets go and stands up, holding a hand out for him. He pouts and reaches for the hand. He stands up, pointing behind him. The said man turns around, offering a smile. You return it, taking glances at his torso. He glances down quickly, chuckling as your ears turn red.

"I'll be right back." He smiles and walks off. The others gather around you, taking places around you on the bed. One of the shorter looking males asked, "Have you found out anything yet?" The man in front of you gives them a blank stare, "I would've if you didn't knock at the time you did."

"But we'll get to that later, why don't we start by introducing ourselves?" A series of agreements erupts in the room. The man who was sleeping beside you, comes back into the room, this time with a shirt on.

He sits down, leaning against the headboard. "Anyways, I'm Hongjoong." He's handsome, to say the least. God, they all are. Hongjoong had dark hair, soft eyes, a cute nose and a comforting smile. His eyes shift to the male next to you.

"Ah, I'm Seonghwa." His voice is soft and melodic. Round eyes, nice nose and soft looking lips. He sends you another small smile, one that brings a soft glow to your cheeks. Your eyes meet the boys that are huddled together. They can't seem to take their eyes off you.

Softly tilting your head you ask, "Boys? Are you okay?"

Hongjoong snaps his fingers in front of their faces, a scowl on his face. Their eyes focus on yours again, a faint red on their faces. "Oh god, don't worry about what just happened. I'm Yeosang, by the way."

You throw him a soft smile and a nod of your head. Two loud smacks sounded in the room. Two of the boys were rubbing the back of their heads. While Hongjoong had a disapproving look on his face. "Oh my god, can you two stop looking at her like that?"

One of the boys, let out a huff. "Hyung, what're you talking about? Like what?" Hongjoong scoffs, "Like you're gonna fuck her. You're undressing her with your eyes. Stop it, you pervert!"

Your eyes widen, hiding your face in your hands. "I sincerely apologize for anything and everything that you've seen and/or will see today. Anyways, I'm Jongho." He has a cute smile on his face. You laugh softly, nodding your head.

“Oh god, this got so weird so quickly. I’m Yunho.” He smiles lightly, his eyes glowing with the faint sunlight pouring into the room.

"I'm Mingi and just, don't mind them." He states, glancing over at the two. "Oi perverts, introduce yourselves," Hongjoong says, rolling his eyes. "Hi, I'm San," he says, showing a dimpled smile. "The name's Wooyoung."

He says, the corner of his lips curling up. "Oh thank god, it's over. Anyway, do you remember anything that happened yesterday?"

Your smile falters a bit. "My entire village was sent into flames, right in front of my eyes. Watching people and buildings burn by the handful. But I don't remember escaping it though, does that have something to do with you guys?"

"We were heading towards your village and we saw it engulf in flames," Seonghwa says, a sad smile on his face. "We ran through the woods that everyone else was and we saw you lying on the ground with cuts all over you."

Hongjoong says, pointing out the numerous bandages on your arms. "Thanks to our nurse over there-" He points over at Yeosang. "Your wounds are healing properly. Oh! That reminds me, Seonghwa changed you to clean clothes, which is why you woke up beside him."

Hongjoong's cheeks tint a light pink. "Although, I don't remember him falling asleep shirtless." Seonghwa merely shrugs, shifting in his seat. "Seonghwa Hyung fell asleep beside her while shirtless and you called us the perverts?"

Wooyoung scoffs, before getting smacked upside the head. "If he did anything, we would've heard it. Besides, he knows better than to touch an unconscious girl like that." Yunho states, sweeping his hair back.

"Before you say it, he had a reason to change her. The wounds would've opened further before I could take care of them." Yeosang snaps, smacking Wooyoung's shoulder.

“Ok ok, fine. I got it.” Wooyoung whines, slumping on the bed. "Anyway, as I was saying. We brought you back here before the fire could spread any further."

You give Hongjoong a small smile. "It's gone, isn't it? The village is gone, along with its people…" Your words trail off, tears slowly welling in your eyes.

The boys all wear a matching heartbroken expression. They watch as Hongjoong carefully pulls you into his arms, one hand caressing your head while the other draws shapes on your back.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. But you're safe now. Here with us." You pull away from his embrace, wiping the stray tears off your face.

You mumble out a quiet thank you. "Ah, you never got my name. I'm y/n." A smile graces your face, mirroring the ones the boys are giving you.

"Well, y/n, if anyone causes you any trouble, let me know and I'll take care of it." Hongjoong states, a slanted smile on his face. The boys look at Hongjoong, with a slightly scared face.

You laugh gently. "Ok, now that everything's cleared up. You can take it easy, alright? Get some rest and call us if you need anything ok?"

Seonghwa chimes, sitting up from his slouched position. The others agree, slowly sitting up. They say their farewells, exiting the room.

"An interesting bunch, they are." You whisper, running a hand through your hair. You slowly get up, walking around the room. You come across a door, opening it to reveal a bathroom.

You walk inside, peering into the drawers. Face and body products, hair combs and brushes along with other bathroom necessities. Though there is something that bothered you.

'How did his eyes change colour, like that?'

[reidetic]

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Cat Adams

Category: Angst, kinda.

Summary: Cat wants to play a game. Spencer wants to, too. Songfic based off of Melanie Martinez’s High School Sweethearts.

A/N: I convienently ignore canon when it comes to her. This is pre his prison sentence. Thank you.

CW: Knifeplay. Not nsfw, but not sfw either lol.

Word Count: 2.7k

It'd been a rough few weeks. He didn’t really know how to describe it, but he found it harder and harder to focus on cases these days. He can’t get his mind off of her. Her, the serial hitwoman who’s tried to kill him several times, her. Cat Adams. He’s been obsessing over her for weeks, waiting for her to pop out of the shadows, and he doesn’t know if he’s terrified or anticipatory. It’s been weeks of him trying to find her, to find himself within that. He’s sitting in a coffee shop nursing a badly burnt latte when he realizes that it’s not fear, it’s excitement and he’s almost stunned. Is it the chase? Or is there something there? He shakes his head, attempting to clear the thought, but just like her, it was persistent.

JJ had told him when Cat escaped prison that it wasn’t his responsibility to catch her, that the team would find her, but he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. He wanted to play with her again, feel the rush of her little games. He’d never admit it out loud, but the part of him that Cat unlocked excited him. The part that made hands steady and his head determined, but for every bad reason. The barista calling out startles him out of his mind and he realizes that it’s dark out, that he’d been here past the shop’s closing. He mutters out a quick sorry and drops a five in the tip jar for their troubles. 

He doesn’t feel great about walking all the way home in the dark without his gun, so he hails the next cab that passes. Spencer isn’t exactly thrilled with the prospect, but at least it was safer than anything like an Uber. The cab pulls to the side of the road, positioning the backseat within arm’s reach. He opens the back door and goes to say thank you when his heart stops. It’s her.

She sees the look on his face and chuckles. “Sit down, Spence. We’ve got someplace to be, and it’s looking like we’re gonna be late. You know how I don’t like to be late.” The gun in her hand tilts to the side almost lazily, and she smiles at him. His body betrays him, and he’s sliding into the car, closing the door behind him.

“Why am I here?” He says, trying not to make eye contact and chooses to look away from her and focuses on the driver, trying to remember her face.

“We have unfinished business. And I intend to finish it.” Cat scoots across the car to him, and hooks her legs over one of his, effectively squashing any chance he had at moving away from her. 

“My team will find me.” But he’s not sure he wants them to, and he finally figures out where he knows the driver from, but decides it’s better to keep the focus on Cat.

“Will they?” Cat pouts and uses the barrel of her gun to push his chin up so that their eyes lock, and Spencer realizes he’s afraid of himself. “Are you sure you want them to, Spencer?”

He shifts his focus away from her and nods to the front. “Who is he?” She waves the gun around, and just simply says, “He’s no one you should worry about, Spencie.” His stomach tightens and he remembers just how much he hates that nickname. 

“You need to take me home. This won’t end well for you, Catherine.” He says her name like a dig, a reminder that no matter how much she kills, he knows who she is. 

She flinches and shoves the gun into his chest, pulling herself closer. “Cat. My name is Cat.”

He ignores her and follows up with, “What’s your plan? What’s your endgame? You can’t shoot me. You won’t kill me.” 

She tilts her head curiously and giggles. “Oh, I don’t have to shoot you, Spencie. You haven’t even questioned why we’re in a taxi. I know you just got out of prison, baby, but you have an eidetic memory.”

He looks around him and realizes all vents in the car are pointed to the back, and when he looks back, Cat is strapping a mask on. It clicks then, that she’s recreating the taxi driver case from 2011, and he sees her smile from behind the mask. 

Muffled, she says happily, “He got it. You remembered, baby. I’m proud of you.” And the last thing he focuses on before slipping under is that she almost sounded sincere.

When he comes to, he’s bound to a chair, rope digging into the tops of his wrists. He looks up and is startled by the view. He’s in a hotel room and in front of him there’s a floor to ceiling window showcasing the second prettiest view he’s ever seen, the ocean beating against the rocks. He thinks for a second that he knows where they are, and then she’s in front of him.

“What is this?” He says, already a little bored but struggling against his restraints for show, for her. 

“This is another game for me to win, Spencie. I thought you knew me.” She pouts and straddles his lap, and that’s when Spencer notices she has a switchblade in her hand. She flicks it open and he’s struck with the thought of how pretty she is when she’s destructive and just how much he wants to be the one to destroy her.

“I’ve beat all your games before. What makes you think you’ll win this time?” He almost smiles up at her, teasing her motives out of her.

“What makes you think you won last time? After all, I’m the one who ended up against a wall.” He balks at that, grappling with the realization that maybe her flirting wasn’t just a game to her. 

“Is that what you want, Catherine?” She huffs at him, and leans back to get a better angle, and slices his shirt open. 

“My name is Cat.” She traces the tip of the knife over his chest and his breath hitches, and he feels himself getting more and more unsteady. 

“What’s your game? Teach me the rules.” He tries to distract her, because he’s not sure he can handle her so close, on top of him, her body heat the only warmth left in the room.

She smiles and hops off of his lap, circling him, keeping the blade pressed against his skin. “Spencie, let’s stop pretending.” She leans down to whisper in his ear and her breath against his neck is almost too much. “Let’s not pretend there isn't a tiny little piece of you that those women you loved never understood, or ever even got to see.” His breath catches and she drags the blade up his neck and suddenly she’s in front of him again. “You know I'm the only one who understands you, baby, knows how hard it is for you to be around all those idiots in public." 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Catherine.” She swipes the knife across his cheek and he hisses, teeth clenched.

“Cat.” She sits in his lap again, legs thrown sideways across him. “Let’s talk about my game, okay? I’m going to tell you how to handle me. I’m going to give you very specific steps to love me good and right, Spencer Reid. And if you agree to love me, you get to live. If you don’t...I guess you’ll just have to join our dear cabbie, won’t you?” She smiles at him and for some reason, she doesn’t look so crazy.

“So what’s step one?” He lets a breath out slowly as she moves the knife back down his neck to trace over his chest. 

“Step one.” She uses her free hand to loop around his neck and up through his hair. “You must accept that I'm a little out my mind.” He chuckles at that, and she looks offended. 

“I already know you’re crazy, darling.” He tries to reach up and touch her when he remembers he’s tied down. “When do I get untied?” 

“You’ll get untied if you win the game, Spencie. Now, onto step two.” Her hand that previously was stroking calmly through his hair suddenly finds its grip and she yanks his head back. “This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line.” 

He raises an eyebrow at that, and she scoffs. “What does that mean?”

“You ask too many questions, Spencer. But since you’re so sweet, I’ll let it slide. Even the most murderous of women want a fairytale ending, baby.” He finds himself smiling wryly at that, imagining a wedding between two people as fucked up as them. “Can you agree to that?” She’s got the knife against the soft part under his jaw and there’s actual hope in her eyes. It’s now when he gets an actual look at her, sees the white lace sundress she’s wearing, and her perfectly coiled hair sits against her cheekbones, and he almost thinks she’s pretty. Almost. 

“Yes.” He says it so matter-of-factly that she’s surprised. “You’re sure?” She asks, digging the knife point in further. “Yes.” and she smiles, big and bright. 

“Step three. Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion.” She seems serious about passion, but she makes it rhyme like a joke.

“Passion?” Spencer questions, the word heavy on his tongue.

“Don’t give me anything fake. The only way you win this game is by being honest.”

“I’ve always been honest with you, Catherine.” The irony of the lie doesn’t slip past him nearly as easily as the lie itself did. Like a warning, she shifts and presses the knife against his cheek, threatening to make a matching cut on the other side. “Maybe not always. But starting now, I will be.” She seems satisfied with this, and she relents the pressure. She once again stands up off of his lap and he is more disappointed than he thought he’d be with the loss of her.

“Step four. Give me more.” She’s behind him now, and she’s running her hands over his shoulders. It occurs to him now that in the last hour, she hasn’t stopped touching him. Her skin meeting his felt like fire and her hands felt like silk, his tattered shirt moving like fluid under her fingertips and suddenly, he feels like shutting down. He can’t fall for her game. It’d be against everything he’s ever worked for; it would mean setting free the part of him that he is so terrified of.

She senses his hesitancy, and her hands tighten. “Can you do that, Spencer?” She breathes in his ear, and his skin lights afire and he is overcome with need to touch her, to feel her but she is in control.

“Yes.” It’s one word but it sounds like a beg, like desperation.

“These are the requirements. You must promise to love me. And if you fuck me over, I will rip your fucking face apart; do you understand me?” Her snarl sounds like seduction and he feels her throughout his veins and now he understands why the drugs felt so good, but he knows she could be better.

“I promise, I promise.” His voice sounds weaker than he’s ever heard it, and he knows she hears it too, because she backs off a little, and pulls the knife away from his skin. She straddles him yet again and pulls his hair back, exposing his neck and presses a few kisses to his neck, working her way down to his collarbone, where she sinks her teeth in hard and fast and he can’t hold in the blissful noises he makes. She laughs and looks up and says, “Are you ready for step five?”

He feels his composure build back up, gaining confidence when he realizes that she’s nervous. Her hands are shaking and she’s sweaty, and he realizes that this performance is hard for her. He grins, and says, “Are you, Catherine?”

He realizes a little too late that teasing her is a bad idea, that he’s tied down and she’s got a knife in her hand. She takes it in stride, though, and smiles. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I wasn’t ready for all of you, Spencie.” She slices the rest of his shirt and pulls it off of his body as much as she can and runs her fingers down his chest and stomach. “Step five. You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand.” She seems serious, and a little sad. When was the last time someone loved her with no reservations? And not sex, real, true love. He doesn’t know if he can be that for her, but he knows that everyone deserves it.

“How many steps are there?” He asks, and this time it’s genuine curiosity, and she doesn’t get annoyed. She does, however, press the knife back up against his jaw playfully.

“Seven. We’re almost done, Spencer. But I need to know if you agree to step five, baby.”

“Yes. For you, I agree.” And the words ‘for you’ slip out of his mouth like butter and he doesn’t realize the implications of what he says until he watches her grin and her eyes widen.

“You do like me, huh?” Her giggle takes Spencer back to the first night he met her, before he really knew her, when all he knew about Cat Adams was her file. That’s a strange sort of innocence a person carries, being nothing but a governmental file on a tablet screen. 

“Step six. If you can't put in work, I don't know what you think this fucking is.” And he doesn’t know either, what this is. All he knows is that the way she makes him feel isn’t exactly innocent and isn’t something he can ignore. He knows deep down that she is the absolute worst thing for him, and she’ll eventually lead to his demise. But there’s something about the thought of her lips on his that makes him throw all caution to the wind, and he looks her in the eyes and says, “For you.” And they both know what it means.

“Step seven. I think this should be easy for you, Spencie, but you and I both know we love games. If you cheat, you will die.”

“Is that just for me, or do you get a free pass like with Lindsey?” Cat flinches at that, and controls herself with another swipe across his cheek, and this time he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know I only did that for you, Spencer. Don’t pretend like it was for anything else.” He believes her, and the sting in her words is almost worse than the sting of her knife. He shifts underneath her, and he sees that a tear is slipping down her cheek. He wants to reach up to brush it away, but the rope is already burning his hands enough, and she would never want such tenderness. He fears the openness in the room, the emotional vulnerability coating the air like a thick cloud and the façade falls away. Suddenly, they both feel like children playing at being adults. But just as quick as that feeling comes, it’s gone and the chaos returns.

“You won, Spencie. You agreed to all my terms.” With two quick moves, the rope is gone from his wrists. In silence, they sit and stare and neither of them know what to do. But Spencer wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her with all the passion that he promised her, and she returns fire. It’s more of a battle than he expected, and in surprise he shoves her off of him. She looks surprised but when he gets his feet under him and wraps his fingers around her throat, she understands. He backs her up to the window and shoves her into it just hard enough to stun her.

“It may have been your game, Cat, but I won, and you’re mine. Everyone will know.” And her breathing is short and stuttering but he doesn’t care at all. He kisses her again, the grip on her throat unrelenting until she is pawing at her own neck and he finally releases. She gasps for air like only he could give it to her and she says, “I have one more question.”

He raises an eyebrow at her and steps backwards, letting the pressure become equal between them again.

She grins and says, “Promise to love me?”

And all he answers is, “For you, I will.”

 Taglist:@dontkissthewriter @imagining-in-the-margins

[missinghan]

night changes (2) ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : rich kid!au

❖ word count : 21k.

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : fate decides to backfire when you try to pull the son of the Senator in as a barrier between your life and Bang Chan.

❖ a/n : read pt.1 beforehand to understand the story better, I’m too tired to proofread this after the nth time, please don’t @ me.

one. The only reason why your mom persuaded Jeongin to move after when you moved in with your dad was college being practically thirty minutes away from the place. And also because of the rent. You feel bad for your brother mainly since the walls there are awfully thin and the girl next door always seems to have someone over every other night. They aren’t exactly trying to be subtle either. Sometimes you wonder how the fuck can he study for finals when the noise pollution can’t get any worse but he still manages to hit straight A-s.

On the other hand, you and Felix never have to worry about things such as students’ loans or college tuition. Every single penny was paid, as well as every other necessity in life. But you feel like nothing but a filler or a mannequin whenever you dad demands for intimate parties where you’re forced to sit still and look pretty when he’s too busy talking business with the other families. You’re just simply there, in his circle of status. Even when you’re all dressed up in designers’ clothes and whatnots, you still feel so out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Felix rolls his eyes dramatically when you pull up right in front of a rather ugly tree, scowling hard. “And you’re seriously taking your Rover today? Where did all of your standards go?” He glances sideways and sees a black Mercedes right in front of your car but shrugs it off shortly after.

“Hey! You take that back! She’s my baby! And also, it’s not gonna freak Jeongin out as much as your Tesla would,” you chuckle and punch his arm, earning a wholehearted laugh in return. Despite being born in a well off family, your stepbrother isn’t as much of an asshole as you’re expecting him to be. He’s pretty down to earth and acts like every other college kid that you’ve met with a questionable obsession with Fortnite. Except he loves to shove all the logos of luxurious brands into people’s faces who keep pissing him off, making him that much more intimidating.

“Wait here or stay there, pick your poison,” you tell him before grabbing your key and exit the car.

Felix mumbles something along the lines of ‘don’t be so rude’ and trails after you. He flutters his eyes upwards to take a closer look at the apartment complex before him. It’s quite small but seems very cozy. He wonders if it does feel less isolating and cold when there isn’t so much extra space around him all the time. “Hurry up, Lix! Jeongin gotta run to class in three hours.” With that, he hastily follows you up a narrow, rusty flight of stairs, the place reeks off the smell his dad always despises. He calls it ‘the subway smell’.

When your hand is hovering over the wooden door, it suddenly swings open, revealing an impossibly handsome guy. Chestnut brown hair, midnight orbs, tall nose, and peachy lips. He has you completely frozen for a good five seconds before you snap out of it, raising an eyebrow. Since when did Jeongin have hot guys as his roommates? And since when did your mom even allow him to have roommates? “Uhm sorry, you are..?”

The stranger smiles, perfectly showcasing his white. That’s your weak spot too. You’re a complete sucker for guys with cute smiles. “I’m Jaemin, and uh, my friend asked me to come over and help him with an upcoming exam.” You subconsciously stare at his outfits for a while, seeing no signs of any designers’ pieces. But his posture screams mad confidence, straight back, always maintaining eye contact, like he’s been raised in a wealthy family just like Felix. You can’t help but automatically judge people for what they wear, it’s been drilled into your mindset at some point and you hate yourself for that.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He waves his hand when you stay unresponsive. He partially thinks that you’re mentally judging him for acting like a weirdo.

You laugh nervously, completely oblivious of how Felix is facepalming himself behind your back. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m here to look for my brother.”

“Brother who?” Jaemin narrows his eyes at you skeptically.

“Yang Jeongin? Ring any bell?”

“What? Jeongin never told me he had a sis—“ his gasp is cut off midway when a hand flies to his mouth out of nowhere and pulls him backward. Your brother pokes his head out from behind Jaemin and smiles sheepishly. You can’t help but notice how different his smile is. Oh…where are his braces?

Jeongin says flatly, “Hey, sis, long time no see.” Then he scratches the nape of his neck, unsure of what to say. “Uhm, so what are you doing here?” It’s really been a while since you last saw him. Your dad can’t really do anything because your mom had full custody of raising him and he wanted to stay with her either way. He said he wouldn’t feel like he belongs if he dares to take a single footstep into his billion dollars mansion. Sometimes it feels like you’re just two strangers with the same blood coursing through your veins, family in name, but not in fact. But to be fair, you don’t even have the same last name as him.

“Where’s mom?” You avoid his question before stepping into the studio apartment completely. The last time you were here was when you’re still a freshman in college, you believe. And now all you can do is stand there in awe.

There was nothing but cardboard boxes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes piling up day by day, chipping wallpapers and a crusty old couch that the previous owner left behind as a result of your heartbroken mom. It used to make you grimace but holy shit, mom really did pull herself together. The place is freshly renovated, the smell of new paint is still evident, a teal couch, wooden cabinets, clean kitchen, bathroom on the left along with a brand new TV. Although it’s not the newest model of any sort, you can see how far your mom has come. She worked hard for your brother, and it’s definitely paying off.

Jeongin whispers something into Jaemin’s ears and pushes him out the front door, leaving a very shocked-looking Felix as a witness. “She’s at work,” he states the obvious monotonously.

“Oh,” you chuckle to yourself and let your fingers dance along the kitchen aisle. “Silly me. Anyway, when did you have your braces off? Last week?”

“It’s been a lot longer than that, Y/N. The last time you saw me was Woojin’s wedding.” He massages the side of his temple, sighing heavily. And your heart sinks, a pang of guilt always seems to be inevitable whenever you come over to visit him. Even when it’s only once or twice a year, you could never move on with life without knowing how he’s doing. You tried. “What are you doing here?”

You cut to the chase, “Dad wants you to come and join his party at the hotel this weekend. Nothing major, just another event as an excuse for him to make more money. And also he said he wanted to see you.”

“As if he needs any more money,” your brother sneers. “And he wanted to see me? Don’t be ridiculous. The old man probably wants me there to humiliate the shit out of me so that I’ll stay away from him and his precious jewels.” You perk a brow at what he’s referring you and Felix to, “I’m not gonna be there and smile through the whole thing. I don’t even own a tuxedo for fuck’s sake! Those people aren’t just rich, they’re crazy rich. They’re snoshy, and loud, and act all elegant with thousands of dollars draped over their bodies—“

Felix makes a face, “Snoshy?”

“Posh and snobby.”

“Are you coming for my accent?”

“I dare not.”

He laughs and swings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. “Good move, kid. Now get in the car, loser, we’re going shopping.”

The younger boy scrunches his nose in disgust, shoving your stepbrother away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t make me put you in timeout.”

two. Jeongin feels like he’s sitting on a pile of burning coal instead of the espresso-colored velvet couch in the middle of a Tom Ford store. Soft white light slipping through the ceiling, walls embedded with mirrors all around and closets that are probably made with the finest kinds of wood. Even the fake pot of flowers on the glass coffee table in front of him looks more expensive than everything he owns combined. While he’s receiving dirty looks from some of the staff, Felix on the other hand, is too busy skimming through the watches and ties displayed inside the see-through cabinets.

Being humiliated just because he doesn’t dress like ‘your people’ makes him wanna bust through the door and stay at home for three consecutive days. People already disrespected him in a clothing store, what will happen if he attends that stupid intimate party? He’s not gonna fit into the social circle just because he’s wearing some designers’ pieces because that’s not who he is.

“Wrap those up for me,” you voice, face stoic of any emotions.

A staff at the checkout nervously laces her fingers together, a bead of sweat unknowingly rolls down on her temple. “Miss Lee! Having you buy our newest collection is more than we can ever afford, I’ll make sure to contact our superior to let you—“

“To let me fire you?” You cut her off, voice soft and stern at the same time. “Oh please, don’t bother,” the staff almost jumps back when you place one of your hands on hers, your rings cold against her burning skin as shivers run down her spine. “Minho will take good care of you, I guarantee.”

Jeongin groans in pure frustration when you wave at him, smiling in your luxurious glory when he’s sitting inside a high-end store like an absolute idiot. “Tom Ford? What is wrong with you people?” Felix glares at him and he immediately puts his hands up in defense. “Right, sorry. But would you mind and just strangle me right here right now so that I won’t make a grave mistake by putting that on? Can’t I just wear the tux that I had on Woojin’s wedding?” You bringing Felix along had already suffocated him enough when he literally lives and breathes in Gucci. Jeongin is not a fan of the tiger on his bomber jacket either.

“Eh..it’s a little dated, wouldn’t hurt to buy a new one. And did you really think that your sister’s gonna let you pay by yourself? How innocent,” Felix puts an arm over his shoulders when he refers to the brand new suit jacket, dress shirt and slacks on the marble counter. All that for more than ten thousand dollars, so… he’s gonna need more than ten years to pay you back. “Also, did you know that your sister is scary when someone pisses her off?” He whispers under his breath, slightly scared that you’re gonna catch his words.

“You’re wasting my time,” you hand your credit card over to the other staff, in which he receives with shaking hands. “Get yourself clean up and pack your bags, I’m sure a professional like you would have no problem landing another job like this.”

Jeongin almost gawks at how you’re giving ten thousand dollars away like you’re simply buying a burger at McDonald’s. He even feels bad for the staff who’s on the verge of breaking down, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She did treat him like he was trying to rob the place but having her fired is far too harsh. Now he knows why he should never be on your bad side. “I think I do now.” He swallows thickly with two hands on his knees, the muscles on his back tense.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, we—“

You smile coldly, “That’s enough, I believe you all can reconsider your own behaviors towards customers. All of your customers.”

“Yep,” Felix catches the jet black Tom Ford bag when you walk past the couch, seemingly busy talking on the phone with Minho. “Iced cold motherfucker.”

Then, an unfamiliar figure enters the store the moment you walk out the door. Felix and Jeongin also pass by her without a second look even when they both accidentally catch some parts of her conversation with the staff. Fuzzily. So he doesn’t bother to think too much about it. “Good afternoon, ma’am, how can we help you?”

“I’m here to pick up a tuxedo for my boyfriend,” the girl takes off her sunglasses and grins, a smile that can take the breath right out of anyone.

The staff returns her smile and taps away on the iPad while the others are escorting the crying woman into the bathroom. “May we have the name please?”

Felix tosses the bag into the car trunk as soon as you start the engine, hurrying to the backseats after. Jeongin has his arms crossed in front of his chest in the passenger’s seat, no words can describe how frustrated, and mad, and partially relieved he feels right now all at once. All will be revealed in the next episode of how his sister fucks up every relationship he’s ever made, stay tuned folks!

“I was having a migraine just by seeing you handing out one of your five other credit cards. And firing her too? Aren’t you being too harsh? Couldn’t you spare her any sense of kindness at least?”

You laugh monotonously, “There are way worse things that could have happened to her. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what ‘my people’ can do.” This isn’t the first time you’ve seen some self excessively conceited staff who judges people by their social background. And now they had the audacity to insult your brother? Being fired is the only sense of kindness that you can give them for today.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to pay the old man back.”

You carefully take a turn and almost snort at your brother’s pointless concern. “That was my money, in my own defense. I don’t live off dad’s pennies anymore.” Even if it was your dad’s money, he would never make his biological son pay for what he can’t even afford. That’s like…asking a vegetarian why they want to bring down the mood of a BBQ party.

Jeongin replies flatly, looking out the window in boredom. “Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you said you were working at his hotel. Who’s the big boss there? Where does all the money come from? Him. Same thing.”

“Are you familiar with the triggers of migraines?” Felix abruptly places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulders, almost giving him a heart attack.

Jeongin doesn’t know much about migraines but he does know that your stepbrother is high-key a weirdo who just happens to be born with a butt load of money. “Uh…no?” If he happens to live in the same home with this idiot, he’s gonna go insane in a minimum of twenty-four hours. No doubt.

Felix excitedly laces his hand together and you mentally facepalm yourself. You’re so over his discussion about stuff like this because you know damn well he’s just trying to take it out on people after being stuck in med school for two years. He’s convinced that he’s gonna kill people instead of curing them so his mom gave him the consent to drop out to prolong the family’s legacy. “Here are some of them so that you know what not to do; from most likely to least likely: emotional stress, hormone, not eating, the fucking weather, sleep disturbances, certain odors, neck pain, alcohol, bright lights, smoke, certain foods, exercise, sexual activities, etc.”

“Sexual activities? Like a hangover after getting laid?” Jeongin asks.

“No, like just sex itself but it’s not supposed to happen that often so don’t worry too much about that.”

You automatically grit, feeling the need to bleach your ears after this. “Do not encourage him.”

“Hey! This is for educational purposes! Besides, it’s not like he’s still a little boy or whatever, he’s an adult now. #LifeCoachingWithLeeYongbok.” Felix takes no time to defend himself. “Now, I wish I could lecture you about the hypothalamus and give you a long-winded explanation of the science behind it, but Imma spare you for today.” Even if it were possible for you to sew his lips together, there’s no doubt that those unnecessarily inappropriate words would still find their ways to crawl out of his mouth and potentially mess up your little brother’s entire existence.

You let out a humorless chuckle, one that yells ‘hey, stop before you fucked it up for the rest of us’. “I’d hate to poke your enormous ego, but whoever attends your classes is gonna have their life crumbling right in front of their eyes.”

Felix simpers at your attempt of a clapback. “Actually no, people who attend my classes drastically turn their life around because they know what not to do. If you think about it, all of my advice to you has been great. I just don’t practice what I preach,” he tuts in that deepass voice of his, not noticing how Jeongin’s face is morphing into a very disgusted expression. “Just one more shot, I’ll be fine. I can quit whenever I want. I’m not addicted,” he mocks one of his friends who can’t stop drinking for their own good. “No, you won’t you lying bitch. An example of someone who followed that sentiment is right in front of you.”

He fairly believes that he can become the youngest professor to be teaching at a college or university with a Ph.D. in the ‘Getting your shit together’ Department.

But in your eyes, these are just some of the side effects that he got from hanging out with Minho so much. Being bitchy and all. If anything, Minho should be the one who takes his spot and becomes the youngest staff for big places like Harvard or Oxford. And you’d love to continue this nonsense of an argument but you’re already pissed off by that staff previously so you should just let him win or your dad’s gonna find you three ending up in the E.R.

“So this is what I get for setting you up with Chan,” Jeongin crosses his arms and you glance at him sideways, staying silent for the rest of the drive home.

three. Chan dreads the packing process after a long tremendously because not only does he have to trust his idiotic friends to not damage his luggage, he also has to help them pack since they are literal children. Changbin’s butler straight up shakes his head when Chan FaceTimed him, asking about how he usually helps him with preparation for a trip. He really hopes his family pays the man good money because dealing with Changbin’s impulsive, indecisive ass sounds extremely exhausting, and burdensome as well.

“Which one?” Changbin refers to a dozen of black tuxedos hanging inside the dressing room, and Chan feels like his brain’s about to retire.

He exclaims in frustration, “THEY’RE ALL BLACK FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“No you uneducated moron,” Changbin purses his lips, “There’s carbon black, raisin black, olive black, super black, coal-black,..which one’s sexy enough for me to snatch myself a date at the party?”

“Seo Changbin!”

Chan’s been so sensitive these days, to the point that he decided to whack a mosquito with his MacBook the other day. He did miss the mosquito, but also, he almost killed Jisung who’s taking a nap right beside him in the studio. And apparently, Han Jisung holds grudges. Hence, there’s no way in hell is he gonna help Chan in the ‘Getting Seo Changbin aka the snobby brat the perfect tuxedo’ Operation. It would be way easier if Jisung was here.

Changbin interjects his trains of thoughts, “Silk or wool?”

“Uh- silk.”

“The Gabardine one or the smoking jacket?”

Chan makes a face, “Smoking jacket?” Whatever that means. He didn’t like the shoulder pads on the other one anyway.

“You heard him, Park, go get that ish and wrap it up! Go go go!” Changbin pauses for a second, “Wait, no, actually…just take them both.”

Call him delusional, but in the span of ten seconds, Chan fully believes he’s already entered (or has been pushed into) the Panamera 4 E-Hybrid that’s waiting outside of the mall. Jisung’s sitting in the passenger’s seat, honking the car repeatedly while the Seo family’s chauffeur is constantly throwing daggers at him with his eyes. Now he’s starting to question if bringing Jisung to the mall would be the wisest decision.

“What’s with the grumpy face, grandpa?” He chimes unhelpfully with a pout on his face. And now all Chan wants to do is to deck his perfect teeth and knock upside his head. “You really need to lighten up, old man, you’re going home!” He groans dramatically, arms crossed like a three-year-old.

“Yeah, going home,” Chan says with expressive hands. “To put on a goddamn show for my grandparents so that they won’t have a heart attack knowing that I can’t give two fucks about their promise with some random family in the same circle.” He’s on the verge of breaking down just thinking about going hand in hand in public with another woman that’s not you. It makes him sick to the stomach more knowing that he’s been hiding everything from you.

He’s such an asshole for doing this to you. Avoiding your calls and texts every other day becomes almost all too unbearable for his shoulders. Instead, he’s been trying to leave you voicemails every other week but it seems like you’ve already despised him. The night of Woojin’s wedding comes crashing down on him as he takes a stroll down memory lane. He might as well be cursed because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have you in his arms again. The saying: “out of sight, out of mind” works for some people as an excuse to forget someone but truth is, he still misses you, all the time, every second, every minute, every hour, every day.

“So you didn’t tell her?” Changbin perks a dark brow.

“Not yet…”

“You should though,”

Chan barks, “I know! She just won’t answer my voicemails,”

“Then call her you coward!” Changbin immediately barks back, fingers still tapping away on his phone, “Look, if Y/N was your date in the first place, you would be crazy giddy and all right now, and not the nervous kind of giddy, but like the exciting kind of giddy. You are so loopy in love with her it makes me wanna feed my eyeballs to my dad’s German Shepherd whenever you’re FaceTiming her,”

Chan’s been clenching his jaw for God knows how long, and now it’s starting to ache. “Don’t say that, she probably hates me. Like you said, I’m a coward. I don’t deserve her and she doesn’t deserve this. Falling for Y/N was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. All I’ve been doing is tearing us apart. Sometimes I wish I didn’t fall for her—“

“—listen up, you genius. If falling for Y/N is a sin then so be it. Because being in love with her is gonna be the best fucking mistake you’ve ever made in your twenty-three years of existing,” Changbin’s words start zeroing in on Chan, so when he opens his mouth to say something, it automatically snaps closed. “I’ve never seen your eyes do that thing where they sparkle whenever we mention her name or when you’re just simply giggling to yourself while texting her. And have you seen the way that she looks at you? She looks at you like you’re the only person to exist on this planet, like someone she’s ever truly loved more than herself.”

Chan drops his gaze from Changbin to his knees, his heart beating rapidly at the sound of your name. Goddamn, he really misses you. “It’s okay, Bin, even if she hates me. I can—“

Changbin interjects immediately, gripping onto his friend’s shoulders tightly and stares into his tired eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me that it’s okay because I saw you alone in the studio every night. You were crying like a baby!” Seo Changbin gives really good advice because pushing people to their limits, not crossing them, just dangling at the edge so that they can’t stop acting like a loser and get their shit together is what he does for a living. Without getting paid a single penny.

“It’s because I’m losing her! I did that to myself!” Chan shudders at his own words, shaking his head profusely to hold back his tears. The idea of losing you sounds so terrifyingly panic-stricken that he would rather lose anything else than not have you in his life, or just not having you at all in the first place. Chan was an idiot for kissing you that night but something deep down still tells him that “screw life, you said what you said and you did what you did, now go out there and get her back before she falls into someone else’s arms”.

Changbin corrects him, pinpointing his words. “You’re losing her, you didn’t lose her yet. You still have an opportunity to make it up to her.” He knows Chan long enough to know that his friend doesn’t easily wear his feelings on his sleeves, mainly because he’s the eldest in 3RACHA. If he falls, the group’s gonna fall with him. But today, seeing the pool of tears in his eyes, the raw emotions in his voice makes Changbin believe that he’s senselessly, wildly in love with you. He knows damn well that Chan would never let you slip away again.

“This is your chance, to prove to Y/N that you’re still the goofy, caring, dumbass Bang Chan that she has already fallen in love with, not only once, but twice.”

four. “Have you been hearing anything from Chan? He hasn’t called me for two months. Changbin and Jisung have been avoiding me like the plague too.” Woojin asks you with a questionable looking drink in his hand. Minho said he mixed the masterpiece with all of his blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t know how to take it, metaphorically, or literally because both options would make sense. You’re just fairly concerned for Woojin’s liver since he’s been attending too many parties, mainly for business but still, that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna stay away from alcohol.

So much for adulting.

“Not really,” you didn’t want to admit that Chan was ignoring your texts and calls before but it’s quite obvious now that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You didn’t think about it much at the beginning because everything must have been so hard for him in a foreign country where young talents are out there competing with each other like they’re in The Hunger Games. But daily conversations turned into weekly, and then monthly and then basically non-existent. No more ‘Good morning’, no more ‘How was your day?’, no more ‘I miss you’. None of that.

The kiss that day seems like it’s disintegrated into literal dust.

‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ sounds like utter bullshit now and you’ve never felt so foolish for saying ‘I love you’ to someone you truly believe won’t take your heart and crush it. But Chan did just that. You spent lots of sleepless nights thinking, and bawling your eyes out. You felt so lost and tremendously hurt. You didn’t know what to do. But you soon figured that it’s okay, people aren’t supposed to know what to do in those kinds of situations. You just gotta figure it out by yourself. So wherever he may be, whatever he’s doing, you still hope that he’s happy. That’s all that matters.

Or maybe you’re just too tired to reach out to him again.

You reply with a lifeless smile, bracing yourself for the upcoming party that’s starting in less than an hour. “He hardly talks to me. He doesn’t even text me in full sentences anymore.” You shrug it off casually, ignoring the sound of your heart aching to focus on other stuff for the time being. “Maybe he’s just busy? You know how problematic the music industry is.”

“Being busy isn’t an excuse to ignore your loved ones, Y/N,” Woojin knits his brows together. “Mind you, I still come home to my wife at nine o’clock, every single day.”

You check the time and almost panic, but before you can form a proper sentence, someone’s already dragged you away from the scene, “Look after Jeongin for me! Got it?” You yell back at him only to receive a thumbs up with a grimace. Woojin is the CEO of a well-known IT firm, after all, no one’s gonna mess with Jeongin if he stays by his side. The last thing you want is your brother coming home sobbing his heart out just because some wonderbread doesn’t know when to keep their mouth shut.

“I’m like..” You trail off while tapping away on your phone. “—pretty much free tomorrow morning, right?”

Chaeyoung - your assistant frowns and stops you midway, smoothing out your baby hair. “Not quite, you can’t skip DBR at seven,” she asserts. “And the daily phone call with your dad- I mean, the CEO at half-past six as well.” It’s obvious that everyone wants a coffee in the morning and since it’s a common time to gather, it seems like DBR (or Daily Business Review) is a good idea to just have a meeting before the day starts. The rules are simple. The meeting can not last more than half an hour and to make sure, you all stand up. You talk about the night before, VIPs coming in, the forecast for the coming day and any common issues to the group. Then you all dismiss and go to work. This way, everyone is on the same page 24/7.

“Oh, and a meeting at three too, and also the Kims Are coming in fifteen minutes.” She checks her watch subconsciously and it reads [7:30p.m.]

“Right, right,” you close your eyes for a moment and let the information sink in, slightly taken aback by yourself that you forgot Jennie’s coming back from New Zealand. The party won’t start until eight, you can still spare fifteen minutes and chat with your friend before being pulled away into utterly unnecessary conversations. “I can’t believe I almost forgot Jen’s visiting us…” You murmur under your breath, “God, Chaeng, what would I do without you?”

Chaeyoung pushes your shoulder playfully, “You’d die, obviously.” She’s not necessarily wrong because if it weren’t for her to manage your shitty schedule, your life would become a fucking merry-go-round which makes you all nauseous and dizzy. As if you’re not being tossed around and fucked up enough.

“Hypothetically speaking, I can just hire another assistant and move on with my life,” you smile cheekily.

She follows you towards the front desk, where Lisa is too busy texting someone cute to focus on her main task: greeting people that she despises with her entire existence. “Well, hypothetically speaking, no one can replace me and you would never have the heart to do that anyway.” Again, you hate it when she’s right. And she’s always right. Because she’s Park Chaeyoung.

You put your phone away finally and ask her about your beige suit with matching high-waisted slacks. “How do I look?” Also, you’re never wearing heels again because you’ve learned not to torment your precious feet when you’re gonna be out and about, being dragged around like a rag doll. Woojin’s wedding taught you that.

Chaeyoung gives you the warmest smile, “Like a boss bitch,”

“You have to come with us to Bora Bora this summer! We just opened a summer resort there with a beach and spa services, it’s absolutely delightful! Very fitting for de-stressing, dare I say.”

“How convenient! Do you see these wrinkles? We were all exhausted after the flight from New York. And I’m stressing over how it’s impossible for my son to improve his English. How in the world is he gonna travel the world for business trips now?”

“Ew,” you automatically scrunch your nose at your stepmom’s conversation with the Senator’s wife. “If we’re gonna act like that when we’re their age, I’d rather jump off a cliff.” And Chaeyoung clears her throat awkwardly when she sees your mom waving you over, giving you a pat on your back. There goes your fifteen minutes of freedom.

You quickly fix the lapels of your blazer and muster a sickly sweet smile, just for the Senator’s wife. “Yes, mom?” Or in this case, ‘stepmom’ but you wouldn’t want it to be awkward for the both of them. She does treat you with nothing but kindness and generosity although you’re not her actual daughter.

“Honey,” you almost snort at the nickname. Honey is practically a bee’s vomit. So you don’t really see the point in calling people bee’s barf. Ain’t cool. “You must know that this is the Senator’s wife, she suggested that you and their son can perhaps—“

You cut her off sharply. “No,”

“Y/N, don’t be so rude,” she laughs nervously as the Senator’s wife wears an unreadable look on her face. As if she’s interested in your particular kind of demeanor like you’re a completely different species. She doesn’t seem to be mad or offended at all. “I’m sorry, you see, this girl can play hard to get from time to time…and—“

You elect to ignore every word that comes out of her mouth from this very moment. Not again with this bullshit. An arranged marriage is basically a living embodiment of your biggest nightmare. You can’t imagine being tied down to a person that you barely know just because of their social status or for the sake of mutual benefits. Not to mention, every guy in the circle is all the same anyway. Disrespectful, egotistical, and only show mild interest if the person they’re marrying at least has something to offer that’s related to cold, hard cash in the long run.

It feels like the world just stops spinning when you flutter your eyes upwards and make direct eye contact with him. He enters the front entrance in a full-on black tuxedo, black silk shirt tucked neatly into his pants, chestnut hair rather well-styled, and black dress shoes. The outfit looks like it was made for him, personally tailored to every detail of his body. You almost scowl and look away until you recognize that smile, those midnight orbs.

To your dismay, the Senator’s wife exclaims, “My goodness! I told him not to wear that specific shirt!” before excusing herself from the conversation.

“Uhm is that…”

“Oh yes! That’s their son, Jaemin. Felix used to go to the same kindergarten as him, I believe,” your stepmom explains calmly, watching how you’re slowly becoming interested in the Senator’s only son. So that explains the black Mercedes in front of Jeongin’s apartment. “He got sent to a private school in the UK after graduating from middle school but somehow, I don’t know how he still can’t speak fluently English. Maybe you can help—“

You quickly realize how fast the situation’s escalating and you must say, you’re not letting that happen. “Sorry mom, Jen’s here! I gotta go!” Learning to let Chan go is one thing, but getting yourself into an arranged marriage with another guy who cares about nothing but money is an absolutely torturous idea.

People change, they all do eventually. But sometimes they don’t. Certain things can never fluctuate despite the circumstances. For instance, Kim Jennie still pulls you into a bone-crushing hug like she always does the moment she spots you in the crowd. Her gummy smile didn’t change, her gestures, the way she walks with pride didn’t change and you highly doubt that she no longer sneaks cute boys into the house when her parents are conveniently abroad. But she definitely looks more mature the last time that you guys met in Paris.

“Wow, Jen,” you utter. “You look…good,” Tonight she’s wearing a white dress from Chanel, diamond earrings and bold red lipstick. And don’t even get you started on her ring, you’re pretty sure that it was a present from the brand themselves. She is the ambassador, after all, they would be more than happy to spoil her with their newest collections.

Jennie takes a look at your outfit, twirling you around before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Good? I look good? You look gorgeous! Look at you! Well, actually you look just fine in your PJs as well. Heck, you can even breathe in this thing, I can’t relate,” she beams and keeps on admiring you as if you’re her own life-sized Barbie doll. Baggy clothes can look good, she knows that now.

Jennie clings onto one of your arms and receives a glass of champagne from a waiter, smiling at him softly. “So, how are you enjoying the party, manager Lee?”

You threaten to spill alcohol on her fifteen thousand dollars dress but only proceed to roll your eyes because you value her money too much for the sake of being petty. “It’s kinda meh,” you make a face. “But you know, let’s just get it over with. And to be honest..I’m kind of sick of socializing with people that I don’t even like.”

“Oh really?” Jennie raises a brow curiously when she sees a certain someone in the midst of the chaotic party. “Someone seems to be interested in you though, that cutie over there…” She then motions towards the general direction of Na Jaemin, the person who you’ve been trying to avoid all night. “I think he fancies you. Been eyeing you up and down for the past ten minutes,”

Right, you also forgot that Jennie didn’t know about you and Chan.

“Actually—“

“My God! Did you see that? The Bangs are here!” She gasps and tries to tiptoe in order to get a closer look, allowing her heels to dig into her feet even more. You won’t blame her, the Bangs are basically the biggest developers in Korea. Real estate, investment, tons of things, tons of boring paperwork but you do respect them for what they do. “I heard their eldest son’s dating some up and coming artist, her exhibitions were quite successful, all big hits since last year. It’s mind-blowing!”

You pull your friend back in time when people are shoving each other before her white dress can be contaminated with the bubbly champagne. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to patch your lips together?”

“Damn, he looks fine,” your friend murmurs and has you roll your eyes for one too many times tonight already. “I’m not messing with you, look!” She grabs either side of your face and turns it sideways, towards the front entrance.

You feel like someone just kicked you to the curb and stepped on you, knocking the breath right out of your chest. It’s Chan, it’s really Chan. Navy tuxedo, brown hair styled neatly, he looks even more beautiful than the last time you’ve seen his face. Beside him, hand in hand is another girl. She has the most delicate features and probably the most angelic smile in this world. She’s looking at him all lovingly, the same look you gave him approximately a year ago when you thought that the kiss did mean something to him. Apparently, it didn’t. Now you feel like a paper bag being thrown away, forgotten in the corner, drifting through life like a haze.

Your heart is stuck in your throat, slowly crumbling into dust when you see how he smiles at her, the dimpled smile that you treasured with your entire heart. They look like they are meant to be. And yes, you wanted to see him again but not like this. It’s like karma’s trying to tell you that this is what you get for falling in love with Chan faster than a tick of a clock, for foolishly holding onto false hope. And your butt load of money doesn’t matter anymore because your everything is already being held in someone else’s arms.

Now you’re the one who’s left with a broken heart.

five. In the dead of the night, you no longer feel the sounds of your heart shattering into pieces. Chan’s just making it easier for you to forget him.

“Y/N?” You stay unresponsive at his voice calling out to you. Every cell, every muscle, every neuro inside your body is yelling at you to turn around and throw your arms around his neck. The willpower that you’re mustering to not do that right is impossibly terrifying. But you’re not giving in again, not this time. You won’t be able to piece your heart back together after a second heartbreak. “It’s been quite a while huh? Are you—“

You turn around with glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill any second. Chan’s words get caught dead in his throat upon seeing you on the verge of breaking down. It hurts more knowing that he’s the one who made you cry. “You should have told me..” Your voice cracks and it breaks Chan’s heart into a million pieces at how broken you are. “You should have told me if you wanted to cut it off sooner..” You smile bitterly with tears rolling down on either side of your cheek. You no longer care about how pathetic you may sound or look, you just want to be completely transparent with him.

Another thing that you hate about yourself: how you just let yourself go exposed and vulnerable right in front of his eyes. “What happened to ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’? Does our kiss that night mean nothing to you? Was I setting the bar too high? Was I…getting in your way?” You ask him between quiet sobs, not bothering to put on a fake smile anymore. You’re too exhausted for that anyway. “You didn’t even tell me..that you’re part of the Bangs family, like the Bangs family. What else are you hiding from me, Chan?”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders to hold you back firmly, eyes boarding into yours fiercely. His touch once made your heart weak, now you feel nothing but disgust when his fingertips graze past your clothed skin. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t understand— she’s not—“

“Y/N!”

Chan snaps his head towards the owner of the voice and grimaces when he sees Jaemin waving at you from the other side of the room. You gotta be shitting me. Chan then looks over at you in disbelief, eyes almost popping out of their respective sockets. Out of all people, you’re dating Na Jaemin? The Senator’s son? Without letting him know? And you’re accusing him of hiding things from you when you’re also with someone new already? “You know,” you wipe your tears away and look him dead in the eye. “I’ve always thought that all the guys in my dad’s social circle were a bunch of ignorant jerks, but it turns out you’re the asshole.”

With that, you briskly walk away with your phone clutched in your hands, knuckles turning white as you bite down your tears. Chan’s gaze trails after your figure until you’re completely gone, falling into another man’s arms like it’s your safe place. Jaemin caresses your cheekbone and smiles at you. You return it too, bitterly. It was supposed to be Chan who makes you feel like the happiest woman in this world, not the one who takes your heart and crushes it into pieces. His heart breaks, again, and again, and again, and again until he no longer feels its presence beating inside his rib cage. There’s something else more than just distance between the both of you now, something that was never there in the first place. Little did you know, you’re not the only one with a broken heart after all.

“Jaemin right?” You sniffle when he lures you away from the party, away from the chaos, away from Chan. “Thank you, I can manage myself now.”

Jaemin shakes his head and speaks to you softly. “Nonsense. I’m staying here with you. The party sucks, but don’t take it personally.”

You chuckle with teary eyes, but you’ve determined not to cry again tonight, especially not in front of the Senator’s son. “Does my brother know that his tutor is the son of the Senator?” Jaemin shakes his head again, the warm smile never once leaves his lips. He gently wipes a single tear that unknowingly rolls down on your cheek and heat flares through your nostrils, a shade of coral scattered across your face. This is why you never cry in front of a stranger.

“There, there you crybaby,” he comforts you with a hand on your shoulder, the other pulling out a handkerchief to dab your tears away. “Who knows the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel is such a softie. I heard from the staff that you’re fucking scary when someone gets on your bad side.”

“Then don’t get on my bad side,” you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But God, I really can’t blame them. Our people are so posh, and snobby—“

“We’re basically snoshy,” he finishes your sentence and laughs. “Your brother tells me that all the time, if only he knew about my family. He’s most likely gonna murder me in my sleep.”

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand away slightly. “This is why we’ll never get a happy ending of our own. What’s the point of owning all the dollar bills when we’re just sad motherfuckers? And people wonder why we all prefer one night stands. I fucking beg to differ. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him that night. Maybe I was nothing but an instant filler for his non-existent love life. ‘Do you still want my phone number?’ He didn’t even bother texting me anymore! Bullshit!”

Jaemin doesn’t know you very well but by the looks of it, you’re definitely not the type to lash out on someone very often. You must have been furious with that Chan guy because whatever he’s done to you, shit must have stung. Because you still look at him with those eyes. Eyes of those who are madly in love. He can’t change that.

“Y/N,” he pulls you into a hug and rubs little circles on your back as an attempt to soothe your aching heart. “Listen, it’s okay if he’s not the one. He might be the wrong person at the right time for all I know. And your soulmate is probably taking their sweet ass time because they are completely oblivious about your existence. But they will be there for you, they will, I promise. You know damn well how life likes to toss us around right? Love is patient, love is kind. And it will come one day.”

You snicker and hug him back, grateful for how he’s already consoling you although you’ve only met twice. Maybe he isn’t like the other boys in the same circle, maybe he’s different even when he dresses the same and looks the same. “Cliché sayings are cliché for a reason, Jaemin,” you laugh before pulling away, staring into his starry eyes.

“I know I know,” he squishes your cheeks together and chuckles. “But hey, sometimes they’re not wrong either. Tell you what though, I was so close to decking that guy in the face back there but I didn’t want to go all Alpha Apeshit and appeared as a douchebag then get blood on his goddamn Tom Ford. Just throwing that out there in case it does help you feel better.”

You can feel your tear-stained cheeks cool against the night breeze. The balcony seems to be the only place that you can seek calmness in, mainly because there’s no alcohol and no one to push you from one boring conversation to another with the same topics. Your people are basically repeating themselves over and over again about money and arranged marriages which you’re not very interested in so yes, you don’t see the purpose of throwing parties that only consist of the top 1%. You lean your back against the railings and watch the party from afar, letting the background chatters sink in. Soon this whole place will be within your grasp along with many others, but you’re afraid that you’ll be lost in your own empire.

“No offense,” you turn back to him and smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to throw a punch at all.”

Jaemin makes a face, “I’m not like those wonderbreads over there,” then smirks devilishly. “But I’ll never be one’s knight in shining armor. Life just teaches me things that our people don’t. For example, living in a mansion won’t teach you how to throw or take a proper punch. Also, wear black because you’ll never know whose blood is gonna be on there.”

“So you’re saying that being sent to boarding school is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life?”

“Not quite,” he winks. “The best thing that’s ever happened in my life is to have the pleasure of meeting you.”

You shove his chest and laugh wholeheartedly, it feels nice to talk to someone like this. “Don’t flirt with me and find yourself another trophy out there, I’m too bitchy to fit in with those chicks.” You jerk your head towards the girls who are all dressed up in fancy dresses and heavy jewelry, finding amusement in how they’re all eyeing Jaemin up and down like he’s a prettier version of an ATM. “And also, what do you expect? You have the look, the money, know how to kick someone’s ass. That’s more than what a trophy wife needs.”

Jaemin scratches his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know how to take that but thank you, you look better than all of them honestly. I don’t know why women choose to suffocate themselves in a dress and torment their feet just to attract guys with thick wallets like me. I think I’ll need to settle down sooner or later and I’m not planning on doing that with a brat who only sees how many dollar signs I can afford on Yelp.” He sighs in pure frustration and a puff of cold air escapes his lips.

“Haha very funny, Na Jaemin is adulting like how the Senator’s son should be in his early 20s,” you joke. “And no, I’m not gonna make fun of you for that. You want me to pinpoint where we are right now? Adulthood.”

“No! I’m being serious!”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“Let me take you on a date and prove it.”

“You’re drunk,” you laugh nervously. But suddenly he inches in closer and your breath hitches in your throat. Nope. He’s dead-ass serious. “You’re being fucking serious, aren’t you?”

Jaemin brings your hand up and presses a small kiss on your knuckles, “See you around, manager Lee.” before sliding away with ease, leaving you blushing so furiously that you almost forgot your heart was broken that night.

six. While you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack because of a date, Kuma - Jennie’s Pomeranian is complaining to you with his eyes about his first world problems aka, Jennie leaving his favorite toy back in New Zealand. “Yes, yes, I get that it’s absolutely unforgivable of her to do that.” You acknowledge and nod absentmindedly, petting him gently. “If anything, I can do you a favor and douse one of her favorite dresses in pickle juice.”

“But also what?” You tilt your head slightly, “She what?! She insulted your favorite tuna bites?! She’s a witch! Burn her!”

“I can’t stand the goddamn smell, that’s all.”Jennie glares at you while hauling her suitcases out of the closet. “You dramatic, bitchy, ungrateful ass.”

“Jen, it’s just a dinner date.”

Jennie dodges your eye roll and proceeds to rummage through one of her ten suitcases, throwing dresses and bodysuits all over the floor. She’s lucky the suite has plenty of extra space or you won’t be able to see the floor in the next fifteen minutes for all you know. Kim Jennie goes ham on picking out clothes for her favorite bitches because not only is she one of the most acclaimed actresses but she’s also a fashion icon, influencer, and Chanel’s one and only darling. Hence, knowing that you’re going on a date with the dress code: formal; she freaked out and dragged you all the way from your house to the hotel that she’s staying in.

You facepalm yourself onto the extra king-size bed and sighs into the soft blanket. Yeah, that’s how rich the Kims are. Not king-size, but extra king-size that can fit at least four people but still have extra leg space. You know where to have your girls’ night this weekend now because you’d rather not have Ryujin whip your ass for bringing friends over.

Your groan grows louder when you keep hearing Jennie repeats “I’m a genius, a fucking genius!” to herself over and over again until she stops. And that’s when you decide to push yourself off the bed carefully to not wrinkle your clothes. “Look at this baby!” She holds up a long, bedazzled gown with spaghetti straps. Gives you a very 70s vibe but you’re not mad at it, you think you might be able to pull it off. “Listen, if you don’t look good in this, I’ll call Chanel and drop it as a flop, got it?”

Wow, Chanel is hanging on the edge of flopping by a strand of hair just because of you. The pressure’s on.

Jennie shoves you into the ridiculous-sized bathroom with marble floor and all, she’s definitely not letting you wear one of your blazers today. “Knock knock,” she impatiently leans against the door after what seems like ten minutes. But all Jennie’s met with is dead silence, she’s starting to get worried now. “Y/N, you good?”

You barge out of the bathroom with a panicked expression, shrieking. “Kim Jennie what were you thinking?!” When she gives you a what-do-you-mean look, you mentally groan to yourself and are kind of ready to call the date off. You’re not going out looking like this. “It’s 64 degrees outside and you’re making me wear this?!” You do a full 360 turn to only to show her the awfully low cut on the back of the dress, and she immediately claps happily like a seal. God, what is wrong with your friend?

“Stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Jennie nods to herself like the evil mad mind genius that she is. “You’re pretty tolerant, so I think it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Do I have a say in this?” You eye her in defeat when she helps you on a dainty necklace and a pair of silver earrings.

Jennie puts her hands on her hips and almost laughs, admiring you like a piece of art, a creation that she will forever keep in her heart. “What makes you think so?” And off to the date, you go.

Jaemin picks you up not long after, wearing a full-on white suit in his black Mercedes. It’s not hard to guess that it’s his favorite. Since the party from last week, both of you have been texting and FaceTiming non-stop, it almost feels like he’s making up for the lost time that Chan’s wasted. For the Senator’s son, he’s surprisingly approachable, very quirky but charming at the same time. Jaemin does give an effort to make you laugh every time he sends you the same memes over and over again. Hey, it’s not your fault his humor is impeccable.

But being one of the Elite, you can’t blame him for wanting to do it the old-fashioned way. Fancy restaurant, having waiters drape white napkins over your lap, cheesy classical music in the background and the typical candles to set the romantic atmosphere. The place is quite busy too, some ladies in their forties are wheezing in helpless laughter as a waitress secretly shoots them dirty looks while a group of businessmen is eating in silence, an old couple is feeding each other in the corner and a younger couple that you don’t really pay attention to since they’re too far away. Sometimes you wonder what that feels like, to have someone by your side forever.

Maybe forever is just not meant for you.

Forever might not be for you, but going on a date feels like a fresh breeze passing by after so much pain and agony. Jaemin always tries to make you feel as comfortable as possible but still manages to make you laugh until your stomach hurts and tears are evident in the corners of your eyes. He’s not one of those guys who’s not used to hearing the word ‘no’ and never pushes your boundaries. But the feeling’s not there, it’s just not there at all and you wish that it was. You can’t play along then end up breaking his heart later on. No one deserves going through that, not even the ones who lost your trust.

“Okay..” Jaemin peels his eyes away from his crème brûlée’s when you set your fork down. “Just to be clear, I don’t hate you but I would never date you.” And he immediately chokes on his big bite, coughing furiously into the white napkin. You’re very straight to the point, he appreciates that, but still, ouch.

“Tell me three valid reasons why I should stop going after your heart.”

“One, I don’t wanna break your heart. Two, I don’t want you to break mine. And three, I just threw it in the trash.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes rather dramatically, holding back a lighthearted chuckle. “So what? You got your heart broken by some bastard and now you’re gonna distance yourself from everything that’s related to ‘love’? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Alone? In your giant mansion with your butt load of money?”

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that’s rising in your throat. “And technically I can adopt as many puppies as I want to.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs and moves a bit to the side. “There’s your man, twelve o’clock.”

You feel like you would personally gouge your eyes out of the sockets the moment they land on Chan and his current girlfriend at the opposite table if you weren’t sane enough for a Michelin-rated restaurant. They’re both wearing black, laughing and talking with each other like they’re the only beings left in this world. You wonder if fate could be a bit more generous to you, just a little bit, then would you be there with Chan instead? You’ve told yourself one too many times not to dwell on the past but like always, you never learn. And you know that you’re dumb but you still don’t get why fate forces two people to meet each other knowing damn well that one of them is gonna leave the other behind.

But this time when you look more closely, his smile looks somewhat forced and the dark circles under his eyes have been darkened by time. He looks so tired and drained but still keeps up the smile for his date. A pang of guilt hits you hard when you realize that you should have listened to what he had to say at the party. He doesn’t look happy, that’s what ticks you off.

Chan subconsciously flickers his eyes upwards and meets yours, completely frozen in his spot like a statue. His smile falters, eyes going wide from surprise, utterly, undeniably speechless. It’s not easy to read what’s going on in his mind but you’re positive that he doesn’t seem to expect to see you in this kind of situation. He quickly averts his gaze back onto the other girl, laughing nervously so that she won’t turn around and accidentally see you. Your heart unknowingly sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you never knew that you’ve been crying until Jaemin gently wipes your tears away with his handkerchief, his eyes softening at your sobbing form. “But it is what it is.”

seven. Chan quickly calls in a cab for his date after sliding his credit card across the counter. He grimaces slightly when she presses a goodbye kiss on his cheek, and then waves her off when she enters the taxi. After receiving his bill, Chan pushes himself through the busy waiters and waitresses, mumbling small “sorry” along the way until his feet lead him to the long flight of stairs.

And he sees you standing there with your back against him, fiddling with your fingers nervously. He knows you’ve never been good at hiding how awkward you are so it gives him a tiny bit of hope when he finds out he still has this kind of effect on you. But when he takes a few more steps forwards, his jaw almost drops to the floor when he can finally get a closer look at your dress.

Chan’s never seen you in a dress before, but he believes that you have the ability to pull off anything. He’s not wrong after all. The dress hugs your figure perfectly and in the most flattering way, leaving him in complete awe. But you’d never choose a dress, even when it’s a formal dinner. Goddamn, that kid is one lucky son of a bitch, he mentally curses.

You meet Chan once again on a balcony, but tonight you’re met with a sky without stars. It seems like they can’t even muster the courage to see where this conversation is gonna go.

“What’s her name?” You ask breathlessly, still not willing to make direct eye contact with him.

Chan inhales deeply, and exhales, “Her name is Eunji. Apparently, our families had an agreement that we’re gonna be engaged once we reached a certain age. I’m so sorry for shutting you out without a proper explanation, I really am. I’m such an asshole.”

You finally can look at him without getting all teary-eyed, your lips trembling. “It’s alright,” then you quickly look away to avoid any awkwardness. “You guys look good together, I’m happy for you both.” And when Chan doesn’t say anything, you decide to ask him softly. “But are you?”

He buries his face into the palms of his hands and sighs heavily. “I- I don’t know, I just don’t want to let them down. And I tried so hard to tell them that I already had someone else but I’m just scared that—“

“That they won’t accept me because you didn’t know that I do in fact, make cold, hard cash?” You stare deeply into the distance and laugh humorlessly. “After all those years, I had no idea, no fucking idea that you were Christopher Bang, like the Christopher Bang, the one who’s supposed to take over the family’s business, the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders, catching you off guard when your noses are barely touching, his warm breath fanning your face. “Speak for yourself. You’ve never even told me that you were Felix’s stepsister. All those years of college, and I only know that you’re the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel now. And why are you dating the Senator’s son again? Last time I checked, you’re still leaving me messages even when I went MIA or put the phone on silent all the time.”

“I can date whoever I want to,” you try to shove his arms away but his grip only gets tighter. “And no shit, you know I’m not into guys like that. We’re not dating, he offered me dinner after seeing me so miserable at the party.”

And you quickly assert with a fake smile. “But that’s not the point, is it? Let me guess, if I were not some daughter of the CEO of the biggest hotel chain in the country, then you would never tell your parents about me, would you? You’d rather marry Eunji so that your grandparents won’t potentially disown you instead.”

Chan shakes his head profusely because he could never, would never, can never, and will never trade you for anything else in this world. “No, you don’t understand- I- just- just give me some time and-“ He loves you too much to the point that his heart bleeds a bit whenever you catch his gaze from across the table and return to your conversation with Jaemin, giggling and laughing at his lame jokes like nothing’s ever happened. But his biggest problem here, is how can he convey his love to you once again when you’ve already despised him with every single cell inside your body?

You narrow your eyes at him, slightly amused by how he’s stuttering. “And?”

“Let me make it up to you,” he tells you after running a hand through his brown locks. “Come with my family on a cruise trip next month in Singapore. I’ll prove myself to you and do everything in my power to get your trust back. Even if things can never be the same again. I can’t lose you, I won’t let you go this time. Bring whoever as your plus-one, just not that kid…I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“How are you so sure that you’re not gonna break my heart again?”

Chan says breathlessly and goosebumps automatically bubble up on your skin at his words, “I’m not. Because I know that no matter how many times I stupidly, or impulsively hurt you, you will always stay. And I’ll always be there to gather the broken pieces as if you’ve never felt the pain before.”

A long, muffled silence occurs between both of you. You quickly look away after a good ten seconds of making eye contact with Chan. He’s having that kind of effect on you like how he used to and you’re determined not to fall again. You’d hate to have your heart broken twice by the same person. “You do know that we wouldn’t have worked out anyway right?”

Chan doesn’t say anything, instead, he turns around and calls a ride for you. His eyes look stormy that night, impossible to read as if there are so many things on his mind at the same time to the point that his head becomes cloudy and nothing makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even wave you goodbye when you get inside the car but his gaze never leaves your figure until it’s completely gone in the distance.

You know that it’s something more than just love because your feelings for Chan are still there even when he’s not. You’re just far too busy being depressed inside your bedroom, under your fuzzy blanket to notice them. Now they’re back, again, for the third time, much, much stronger and more powerful. You don’t know whether this is hazing because falling for someone more than twice just sounds unhealthy for you, a person who lives off donuts for two weeks straight because you need the push of the sugar crush in order to avoid caffeine. Chan just stepped into your life like how he did about three hundred and sixty-five days ago and completely broke down the fort you were trying to build.

Call you an idiot, but is it bad to think that he’s not planning on leaving any time soon?

eight. You hate cruises for plenty of reasons, and one of them being, not surprisingly, a cruise is basically a hotel on water. The concept of a hotel floating on the water makes it a trillion times cooler and unnecessarily overrated. In your defense, having a massage or partying ‘til dawn while not knowing when you’re gonna drown to your imminent death is petrifying. Maybe you’re just bitter about the fact that people don’t appreciate normal hotels enough, because they really don’t.

Okay, if you have to choose one thing not to hate on a cruise, then it’s probably the mini theatre that Chan personally demanded for his chaotic group of friends. Hey, privileged people need some wholesome, chill times with friends too.

But the fact that almost everyone has already seen Stranger Things makes you feel more like a grandma than you already are. These are the times where you rarely choose to sit next to Jisung because you’re both on the same boat for once. Other times, you’re just bickering like the reincarnations of every movie where the main characters constantly want to put the other’s head on a chopping block but end up falling in love anyway; except, you will never fall in love with Jisung. That’s so creepy on so many levels.

Creepier than whatever the fuck of a demonic image that Hyunjin’s about to show you, being the pest that he is. “We have four votes for Stranger Things and four votes for Spider-Man: Far from home,” he announces in that irritating voice of his while hogging the whole bowl of popcorn to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, Han? Choose wisely, my friend,”

Jisung sips on his Coke and points his index finger at his roommate as if he’s accusing Hyunjin of murdering someone, “I’m with Y/N, because screw you,” he’s not entirely wrong because, without a doubt, Jisung’s soul is gonna detach itself from his body after the first episode. “And if Chan were here, he’d agree with me,”

“Nope,” Chan conveniently steps in when you’re about to do a fist bump with Jisung, taking the seat on your right despite plenty of other (about twenty-six) empty seats. “We’re watching Stranger Things, it’s been almost thirty minutes and all you guys have been doing is aiming at each other’s throat,” he whips out a small remote from his pocket and clicks the ‘play’ button without anyone’s consent. He has no right to do that! You don’t think you’ll ever forgive him after this.

Chill time isn’t so wholesome anymore.

So basically the whole plot is about a boy going missing, flipping a whole town from Indiana upside down. Everyone spends days and nights, desperately trying to find him until one day, a little girl with a shaved head comes into the story and makes the entirety of the movie that much weirder. And more horror-worthy when she’s being chased by ‘bad guys’. This is another reason why you hate Chan: he can’t be bothered about what he’s watching because he’s only here for good food. And probably your suffering. But mostly just good food.

Actually, it might be the other one because you can clearly see that stupid grin on his face when you pull your hood low enough to cover half of your eyes so that you won’t be potentially haunted at night by whatever’s ready to pop on screen. And Jisung’s already clinging onto one of your arms like his life depends on it, legs quivering in his boots. You really don’t wanna accidentally elbow him in the face when there’s an inevitable jump scare.

“Chan, you sadist, I hope you’re happy for doing this to me,” you sneer at him with gritted teeth, frustrated about the fact that you can’t singlehandedly feed him to the sharks.

Chan leans in slyly, lips dangerously close to your ear. “That’s for you ogling Tom Holland,”

Jisung automatically gasps scandalously, once again opening that useless mouth of his and decides to put you on trial. “A compromise was almost made, Y/N you monster!” (Actually no, he’d never survive law school). Jisung wiggles himself out of his seat faster than a lightning bolt and snuggles closely next to Woojin, who’s staring at the screen like someone’s forcing him to watch one of the worst pantomimes to ever exist. Great, now you’re stuck with Chan in the very front seat, having no choice to hold onto him like he’s your last option before falling into your impending misery in the next sixty minutes.

This asshole is really—

The moment you’re ready to pour a paper cup full of Sprite over his head, Jisung and Hyunjin just happen to whimper and yelp at the same time, with the same amount of awfully loud volume, spilling their own endless string of curse words with the same length while holding onto whoever’s lucky enough to sit next to them. So naturally, you stupidly let your guard down and cower like a child watching Snow White for the very first time and being absolutely terrified of the ugly witch. You’re far too busy thinking of ways to bury Hyunjin alive to realize that you’ve unknowingly pulled yourself closer to Chan and hid your face in his chest.

“Hwang Hyunjin you fucking moron!” Jisung yells at the top of his lungs when another demonic scene occurs, sending actual chills down his spine. He almost misses the feeling of still having a vendetta with his friend back in the good old high school days when they’re still wrestling each other every two minutes. Also, you’ve never felt this bad for Jisung (or even related to him) in a fairly long time, because… same.

Hyunjin can officially kiss your Jeep goodbye because you’ll never let him borrow it again. That idiot.

“You’re such a baby,” Chan comments and purposely cuts off your trains of thoughts so that you can peel yourself off him and look straight into the screen again, at the wrong time.

“I’m not your baby—“

You hiss in panic and throw yourself onto him again, trying to calm yourself by listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and persistent pace of breathing. You’re already mentally apologizing to Jennie because you’re 75% sure that she’s not gonna be able to sleep with you sticking to her side like a jellyfish. There was this one time you all watched The Conjuring because Jisoo insisted so much and except for her and Lisa, no one got a wink of sleep that night so you’re not sure how you’re gonna survive this when there’s no pillow or blanket to protect you from all of the horrifying sound effects and imageries.

Chan secretly bumps his fist with Jeongin in the back, who’s a little bit too occupied with Hyunjin crushing his bones every two seconds. The perks of hitting on a friend’s sister. Works like a charm, he smirks internally. “Little Y/N is scared, how precious,” he looks down at you, and a smile blooms on his lips, enjoying the blissful feeling of having you in his embrace again.

“I am not scared!” You still can’t learn to accept that sometimes, admitting to your defeat is better for your own good.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen then?”

“Because- oh my God, what the hell was that?!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared, I can protect you,” Chan boasts with his chin high up. And you’d love to blush at his affectionate words right now, really. Only if he didn’t quickly jump into conclusion because of your crush on Tom Holland and chose the movie in the span of a split second.

“Christopher, this isn’t funny!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t try to insult you in any means at all, ma’am. I don’t see what’s the problem here,” he singsongs, gently draping an arm around your shoulders. This time, he’s glad that you didn’t end up punching him in the gut.

“Shut the fuck— Jesus Christ!” You screech when the demonic image keeps flashing in your mind, driving your head around in circles. “Chan, I swear to God, you’ll regret—“ you don’t even bother to finish your sentence and have no choice to hold onto him like he’s your only source of life, without him, you’ll soon disintegrate into fine dust and slip away easily. If Lisa was here, she would record the whole thing and play it on the slideshow of videos that she’s been preparing for your upcoming birthday. Thank God she’s playing beer pong with BamBam somewhere on the second floor.

That sounds so melodramatic but it’s not necessarily wrong. Chan still has that same sense of comfort whenever your skin comes in contact with his, even when it’s a thin layer of fabric away, you can still feel how badly it burns like a reminder for you that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to change that, your intuition has told you before but you elect to ignore it. You’re starting to realize that you let Chan into your life again just like that, let him tear down your walls, and lit your heart on fire.

But what you don’t know is that his heart is still beating vigorously in his chest cavity for you, after all this time. His one and only.

“Hey, hey,” he tells you softly.

“What? Don’t make me look, I don’t wanna see it, I don’t wanna hear it either, I’m scared okay just don’t—”

“No, Y/N, look at me,” Chan chuckles and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his starry eyes. All you can see is an entire cosmos, more wondrous and beautiful than everything you’ve ever seen. He shines like he owns the entire universe in his existence, glowing from within and leaves you utterly speechless. Your head starts to become fuzzy and your heart dips when you realize how terribly close you are to him.

Chan takes your head and gently places it on the left side of his chest, smiling. “Can you hear that? It’s your fault, yeah, you did that to me,” The calm rhythm of his heart cancels everything out; all you can see is him, and all you can hear is his heartbeat. You spend approximately one second debating whether you should kiss him and you hate every moment of that one single second, you dread every nanosecond of it.

“Are you still afraid?” He whispers and you shake your head almost immediately without replying with what’s in your head. Like no shit, you’re more than just petrified right now, this is by far, one of the scariest, most frightening, and most nerve-racking decisions you’ve ever made in your life.

At that moment, it feels as if you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with him by your side. And you do exactly what he’s asking you to because it’s the only thing that you can do.

You jump.

nine. Weirdly enough, you miss college.

You miss those days where you had to finish the entirety of your morning routine in a span of five minutes so that you could be out the door and not miss the bus. You miss those moments where you had to skip two steps at a time on the longass flight of stairs just so your professor wouldn’t have another excuse to yell at you other than the overdue assignments.

You also miss college parties, not because they’re ‘lit’ but because things were simpler back then. People come, drink, get wasted, fight someone (or make out with someone), and then go home. Actually, no, they usually make out first thing first in the front porch because college students don’t give two fucks about their dignity and decency. You definitely didn’t miss that. And also those times where you ogled Chan during lunch breaks or when you both took the usual 4419 to college on a daily basis.

Everything gets a little more nostalgic when Minho slides your usual mojito across the counter and gives you that cat-like smile of his. Somehow, it makes you wanna hug him and bite his head off at the same time but you’re not wasted enough for that yet. You just need to get your mind off Chan when he’s too busy being tormented by his own family.

“Zero sips and you’re already dreaming about Chan? Gee, if I’m not mistaken then you’re so in love with him, manager Lee,” Minho is in his element, surrounded by good music and alcohol. In which, there’s no point in arguing with him anyway because you’re basically vulnerable and defenseless when everywhere you go, you see Chan’s face.

You down half of the mojito in one go and the bartender in front of you almost staggers backward from utter shock. Normally, you’d be snapping back at him with a witty retort instead of being all sappy and dreamy like this. This is not good. “My my, you’re really thinking about him, aren’t you? So tell me, how does that feel? To be deeply in love with another human being,” he leans forward to approach you, propping his head up with his hands. You murmur a small “bullshit” and proceed to toss your head back for a bit, shaking the weariness away.

“Listen, I might be heartless and all but when I accidentally put Tabasco into Jisung’s orange juice instead of honey the other day, I did actually feel bad about it. I felt a rush of empathy for a split second there,” Minho muses when he sees the corners of your lips curl upwards, stretching into a small grin. “It was wild, and then I just thought; is this what it feels like…to be a decent human being? Edgy, I know.”

You laugh dryly with boredom glinting in your eyes. “You know, if you’re going to distract me from thinking about Chan, at least be good at it,” his mouth drops open at your statement, completely gobsmacked. Oh, how the tables have turned. He’s never felt so defeated and useless before. Usually, he’s the one who makes others speechless. It’s not hard to tell that he hates it when everything just flips upside down.

“Bitch please,” Minho says with puckered lips. “Even if I spiked your drink, you’d still repeat his name in your dream like a mantra because you’re so fucking whipped for him,” he stops for a while to train his undivided attention on the Tequila Sunrise for Jisung who’s already smashed after two beers. He can really use some counseling, Minho ponders. “And you wouldn’t kiss Chan back if you hated him, gotta love stupid feelings that you can’t even explain for yourself, am I right?”

You take another sip of your drink and exhale, staring into his sharp eyes. “Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Lee Minho, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor,” he holds back the urge to slap you across the face with Felix’s Gucci slippers and instead, musters the sweetest smile. Being a bartender and a potential alcoholic at the same time definitely doesn’t help because he wishes he could just chug a whole bottle of vodka before you complain to him about your miserable love life. “I believe I’m qualified enough to give you some solid advice. So shut up and listen to me—“

“—I’m trying! But Minho, what if I’m the delusional one? What if he just wanted a fresh start so that we wouldn’t be so awkward towards each other? A kiss can’t possibly mean something. I mean, if you consider our New Year’s kiss, it meant so much to me but I don’t know if—“

And now, Lee Minho, self-proclaimed, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor; doesn’t have the slightest earthly idea of what the hell he should do. God, serious relationships are so fucking complicated to the point that his brain is yelling for retirement. Usually, he just poisons his friends with a dose of some common sense and solid logic to knock them back to reality in order to figure out whatever they’re going through. But this time, he thinks he should just let you fall further and further until Chan catches you instead.

Now that he’s thinking about it. Chan definitely didn’t pay him enough to be the bartender and a personal therapist for the love of his life.

“Seems like you’re not enjoying the party,” you instantly turn around because you can realize the owner of the voice in the matter of a split second. The moment Chan’s eyes are locked with yours, your heart immediately jumps up to your throat and then drops back down to your chest. If only this was because of the mojito, you’d feel better about it somehow but unfortunately, Minho gave you a non-alcoholic one today.

You can tell that he’s already hammered by the smell of alcohol when his warm breath brushes over your nose and how his cheeks are redder than usual. Minho quickly excuses himself from the scene to save himself from witnessing a mediocre, drunk confession session. And also because people are starting to pour in by the second, so the bar will probably be overpopulated in the next ten minutes or so. It’s downright a college party again except for the fact that everyone is floating on water but still, alcohol-thirsty pigs are still pigs. Everyone’s sloppy and lightheaded to the point that you’re already hearing the janitors crying themselves to sleep tonight.

“I’m enjoying it more than you if you couldn’t tell already,” your face morphs into a frown when Chan giggles and stumbles around like a madman. He would have facepalmed himself onto the marble counter with various bottles that probably cost more than one of his cars combined and made a scene if it weren’t for your hands steadying the blades of his shoulders. The warmth of your fingers radiate through his denim jacket and sinks into his skin, making his head a little fuzzy while you’re wondering how the fuck did he get this batshit drunk when Minho was with you the whole time.

“What the hell did you have?”

“I don’t know, BamBam asked me to try out some of his new cocktail recipes,” Chan hiccups and allows you to fling one of his arms over your shoulders. “Guess I didn’t consider dinner with my family afterward. Mom said I should just get some rest but I was thinking of you, so voila, I’m here now,” he gives you that signature boyish grin of his that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. But this time, your frown just grows deeper because since when did BamBam know how to make cocktails? And almost knocked Chan out too? You know why you should just stick to Minho’s mojito now.

Your eyes widen in panic as Chan almost trips over your foot when Hyunjin accidentally bumps into his back. “Oh Y/N, I’ve been looking for you,” the younger boy tells you with a Margarita in his hand, curiosity laced in his eyes. “No, scratch that, actually, some guy called Jaemin is looking for you,” Hyunjin then leans closer to a very-shocked-looking you and tries to shout over the loud music. “Who is that guy anyway? I heard rumors going around that he’s the Senator’s son or—“

Even though Chan’s not very sober at the moment and all he can hear is “some guy” and “the Senator’s son”, he knows that he needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. That bastard, Chan thought he’s already eliminated him from the guest list. Without a second thought, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you away from Hyunjin although he’s not the real threat here, piloting you through the sweaty bodies grinding against each other to the EDM music in the background. He was gonna take up the DJ duty tonight but really…is he gonna let you have another encounter with Na Jaemin? Yeah, he thought so too.

Before you can even register the whole situation, Chan’s already backed you up against a wall in his bedroom, a hand over your mouth with the other on the small of your back. Time seems to stop when you see the golden flecks in his eyes, floating softly in his nebula, and you’re absolutely, definitely, totally falling for him all over again. He’s so incredibly beautiful it leaves you moonstruck, wondering how can God be so unfair to make Chan look better than you even when he’s wasted.

Everything starts moving once again when a series of “have you seen Y/N?” echoes through the hallway and you can physically feel Chan tighten his grip on your body, jaw clenching too much that it might hurt. You know that voice all too well; Na Jaemin is here. And he’s looking for you. But you can care less right now because your heart automatically does a flip when Chan makes direct eye contact with you, his index finger hovering over his lips.

“Y/N, I need to tell–“

But this is not the time to fawn over how good he looks, you tell yourself with such determination.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you help Chan walk over to his king-size bed, his limbs wobbly and unstable. After a solid minute of struggling and panting, you finally have Chan laying on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. While you’re too busy unfolding his blanket, he’s murmuring gibberish that you can’t quite, choosing to ignore it like how you’ve ignored Woojin snoring at two in the morning during a camping trip. “Chan,” you shake his shoulders slightly. “You’re gonna fall flat on your face if you sleep like this,”

You hiss through gritted teeth helplessly. “Chan!” But he doesn’t even move a single muscle. “You idiot, why did you agree to drink all of those cocktails?” You’re going to rip BamBam’s head off of his neck next time with your bare hands, it’s on. “Chan!” Your last attempt of waking him up fails miserably when he scrunches his nose a little, then proceeds to move on with his slumber.

Yeah, he’s definitely gone.

Or not.

Just when you’re about to give up and leave him as he is, Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you flush against his chest, heart thundering more vigorously than ever. He easily rolls the both of you to the side with no effort, only to get a better grip of your waist, his breath tickling your nose. At the suddenly close proximity, you can take a closer look at his long lashes that framed his eyes perfectly, his tall nose and his plump lips. Chan looks so ethereal and otherworldly that you wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair, dance your fingers against his jawline and press your lips against his.

But you also notice the bags under his eyes and how his brows are slightly knitted together. He doesn’t seem to be doing a great job at taking care of himself after all and it makes your heartache knowing that he didn’t have any other choice. It’s no one’s fault, really, though, in scenarios like this, people would love to point fingers and make assumptions out of something that they don’t even know. Falling in love with Chan for the third time can be the best thing that’s ever happened to you or it will eventually push you off a cliff, straight into a downward spiral.

Whatever the consequences are, you’d never trade him for anything in this world. Even if it means getting your heart broken all over again. You’re willing to walk through fire and step on thorns just to be by his side again. But at the same time, you’re not sure if he feels the same because if not, you’ll be left with nothing. Maybe he’ll forget all of this in the morning. Maybe it’s never meant to happen anyway.

Chan suddenly pulls you in more and his lips are terribly close to your flesh, your eyes going wide in panic. Moments later, soft snores escape his mouth as his chest heaves up and down in a calm rhythm. It reminds you of when he hugs you in the theatre, embarrassment soon flares through your nostrils and sprinkle a shade of coral on the apples of your cheeks. You can’t help but smile, arms snaking around his firm waistline.

Chan hugs you so tightly that you blindly believe that he needs you. As if it’s his way of saying “stay, it makes me feel at ease that you’re right here, in my arms again”. No one has ever really needed you. As sad as it sounds, your family can still move on with life just fine even when you’re not there. Your friends have their own jobs and other relationships as well, they don’t actually need you. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before, it’s a little bit frightening but also a little bit tempting.

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m done for.

Goddamnit BamBam.

ten. Chan groans loudly when the early daylight hits him like a truck, knocking him out of his semi-unconscious state. Hangovers still hit him hard, but this time, shit hurts way worse because someone still has a lot to learn as a mixologist. He smells like alcohol, probably looks like trash, and his head is fuzzy yet [insert culprit’s name] is standing right in front of him, all dressed up like he’s about to do a drug transaction.

“Bro,” he narrows his eyes to do a full scan of the bedroom, plopping himself back down only to realize that you’re not here. “You fucking suck at making cocktails,”

BamBam only chuckles humorlessly at that, five of his drinks didn’t even put a dent on Changbin yet the infamous Bang Chan wasn’t able to stay sober to not have a girl carry him to his bedroom. “Drink,” he gives the glass of water in his hand a light thrust before handing Chan a tablet of aspirin with the other. He’s also decided that it’s a lovely Sunday morning and he doesn’t have time for this shit. He should be chomping on breakfast in bed with something on the TV right now. But, he can’t risk having Chan roam the cruise looking all homeless and insane.

“I can’t believe not only did you let Y/N into your room, slept in the same bed as her,” Chan chokes on the big gulp of water that he’s just taken, and everything from last night starts pouring back to him like an unwanted nightmare. He was far too drunk to even remember every detail, he just prays to whatever gods up there that he didn’t say anything stupid. “Yet you didn’t even confess, great fucking job.” BamBam asserts like the true friend that he is, accidentally pushing Chan closer to his imminent misery.

Chan snaps his head up and almost screams aloud that his heart’s about to jump out of his chest, “You wanted me to what?!”

“You heard me,” BamBam tongues the inside of his cheeks in annoyance, regretting the amount of money that he spent to tip one of the cruise’s staff so that he could sneak his own alcohol in safely. “You know what that means? That means you still didn’t shoot your shot! You did not shoot your shot! Which entails? You’re gonna be lonely for the rest of your life and eventually die alone. You’re gonna die alone! You hear me?”

Chan thinks it’s way too early for him to endure BamBam repeating himself over and over again like a crazy person. He might still be slightly hammered because all he’s hearing is “shoot your shot” and “die alone”, he’s confused because why in the world is his best friend making him choose between killing someone and dying alone? Wait, no, actually….he might mean something else. Chan’s just in denial.

“Where is she?” He rasps out tiredly after taking the pill and downs the whole glass of water.

“Lisa carried her back to Jennie’s room in the middle of the night,” BamBam informs his friend, watching how his eyes are starting to turn stormy, and then he exhales out of relief. “She almost murdered me! This is all your fault!” He cries out dramatically before belly-flopping himself onto Chan’s bed, metaphoric tears dripping down on his cheek.

Chan perks an eyebrow as if BamBam just offended him, as if he’s mental and just made it out of an insane asylum. “My fault?” He questions, his voice getting louder and louder at the end. “Whose idea was it to poison me with your questionable drinks? Whose idea was it to make me all batshit drunk? Whose idea was it to let me into the party so that I could find the only thing that I’ve been trying to avoid all night? It was your fault, okay?! It-was-your-fault!” He deadpans and soon realizes that now he’s the one who’s repeating himself.

BamBam is more than confused right now because didn’t Chan want this after all? To confess to you once again and get you back? All he was trying to do is basically give his friend a teeny tiny sprinkle of motivation and this is how he repays him? Now he looks like an idiot who has been trying to sabotage the relationship between the two protagonists of another horrible rom-com. Jackson was right, he should have just played ping pong in peace and not stick his nose into other people’s business.

“Look,” he places a hand on Chan’s shoulder as he sighs deeply into the palms of his hands, mentally debating how the fuck can he make it up to you now. “She could have just refused your invitation of stepping onto this cruise. She could have pushed you away when you tried to kiss her,” BamBam stops midway to suppress his laughter at how Chan’s cheeks are taking no time to turn into a brighter shade of pink. “And, she could have left you alone and drunk at the bar, and- I don’t know, hang out with Na Jaemin or something.”

When a muffled silence descends in between the current civil conversation, only a confused look crosses Chan’s features and all BamBam wants to do right now is to put his head through a goddamn wall. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he murmurs to himself. “Minho’s right. You both are so dumb it’s physically hurting me.” Not exactly the most comforting words to tell a person in crisis but things hitting hard like this actually helps Chan a lot more than how people usually sugarcoat their words.

“Listen, it’s not like there’s no more fish in the sea but have you ever met someone who instantly clicked and just simply fell for you? She didn’t know that you had money, she didn’t know anything about your family. She could care less about your social background too honestly, because she fell for who you truly are,” BamBam hates to be cliché, really, but it is what it is. “Y/N has never gone a day without checking your notifications, she was so broken when you suddenly just shut her out like that. And yes, you were an asshole for doing that but can’t you see how hesitant she was every time you’re trying to get closer?”

Chan looks up at his friend, his tense muscles finally relaxing. “Which isn’t the point…”

“Which isn’t the point,” BamBam tells him, looking more serious than ever and it’s freaking him out. “Because what I’m trying to say is, it’s still not too late to shoot your shot.”

eleven. Maybe you deserve someone else, but deep down, you’ve always wanted Chan. And in your heart, you know that it’s right because humans only want the love they thought they deserved. You think part of the reason why you can never seem to let go of him is you’re just scared that something so amazing won’t happen twice. People might call you out for dwelling on the past but you call it a coping mechanism.

Magically, you’re starting to get used to the frequent encounters with Chan and Eunji since they’re also apparently part of the Privileged. You really should give yourself a pat on your shoulder for not having a mental breakdown whenever you see them hand in hand in public. The forced smile on Chan’s face always gives you the tiniest strand of hope that he’s just putting on a show as demand from his family. But at the same time, you’re scared that you’re just being delusional and you’d never have anything to do with his life from now on. Perhaps he wanted a fresh start so that everything can be like how they used to back in college? He didn’t want to “lose you again” because he still wanted to be friends?

But every time he tried to sneak a glance towards your direction and smiled, all you could think was: “Oh, shit,”

You knew that you fell for him twice, and you’re still falling. Every. Single. Day.

“Like what you see?” Changbin brags on the other side of the curtain, followed by a string of gagging noises by Jisung. And you secretly want to take a picture of his face, for science, obviously. But by that, you mean to blackmail him whenever wherever you want because he’d rather not have his fans gushing over him looking like a dying donkey, inside a fifteen thousand dollars suite on a cruise.

“You look like an idiot.”

Jisung voices with pure disgust in his tone. “Who the fuck lend you a white tuxedo?” Needless to say, you try to picture Changbin wearing a white suit and you immediately scrunch your nose up, shaking your head profusely. Changbin looks especially good in dark colors, but you’re not saying that he wouldn’t look good in brighter tones, it just feels weird not seeing him in a black tux, even when it’s just for a small party.

“My sister! If anything she’s an idiot,” he’s probably throwing his hands up in frustration. “She said I should switch things up. And I trusted her, now I feel like an idiot.”

Jisung asserts like a snake, “You look like you have a stick up in your ass, it’s so high up I can literally see it whenever you’re opening your mouth.” He’s probably man-spreading on the blue velvet couch, playing with the glass of bubbly champagne that he’s specifically requested. You don’t get why he would want to drink when he’s waiting for his friends in the dressing room but he will, just because he can.

“Ew,” he spats not long after. You’re not sure if he’s referring to the drink or Changbin’s outfit. It might be the drink, it’s shit but it gets the job done. It’s more about the concept of looking elegant and fancy more than the concept of getting wasted, in order to not look like a corrupted person. “Why would you godsend privileged, snoshy, live-and-breathe-in-money people deadass drink this instead of a nice Tequila?” Yep, not surprising.

Changbin protests, clearly annoyed. “Because we can afford that shit, just like how there’s a random, money dripping guitar in the dressing room,” you don’t even have to peek to know that he’s rolling his eyes to the point that they’re gonna fly out of their sockets. “But at the same time…true, I don’t like it either. That’s why I never get wasted whenever I go to parties like these, man, I miss college parties,”

God, this zipper is driving me nuts, you mentally curse when it gets stuck halfway and your arms are already giving up on you. Where’s Jennie when you’re in desperate need of her help?

“Whatever, let’s go find your sister and get you in a new tux,” you can hear Jisung pushes himself off the couch and settles his champagne down on the coffee table. “No offense towards her…I just fucking hate it on you,”

“Wait, guys—“ the moment you try to call out to them, they basically shut the door of the dressing room. “Well, shit,” you sigh, quickly realizing that 1) you don’t have your phone with you; 2) you can’t just run outside to grab it because what if Changbin and Jisung get back here at an untimely moment; and 3) there’s no way in hell you’re gonna ask one of them to zip it up for you. Now you’re forced to stay in a confined space with your only protection aka the red velvet curtain that looks way too cliché for your liking. Seriously, isn’t Jennie supposed to be here with you? It was her idea to put you in another dress, which you hate with a passion but you can never have the heart to tell her that.

The door swings open again and you exhale out of surprise, “Thank God, Jen. You’re here. Can you help me with my zipper? It’s stuck, and my hands gave up on me,” you immediately turn around, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Do you think Chan’s gonna hate seeing me in a dress again? I mean, I did call him an asshole when I wasn’t wearing one,” you stop to take in a breath, completely oblivious about the fact that it wasn’t Jennie who opened the door. “…but I was kinda acting like a bitch when I was wearing one too. I was so furious knowing that he’s seeing someone else behind my back that I wanted to bite his head off. And now I’m stuck here with him, his family, and that chick, in a hotel, on water, floating spontaneously somewhere near Singapore.”

Wordlessly, a pair of hands push the curtains aside to tug onto your zipper, slowly adjusting it and careful not to break it at the same time. Once your dress is zipped up all the way, you’re ready to turn your head and thank your friend. “Stay still, I’m not done yet,” your face automatically burns darkly when you come to a realization that it’s definitely not Jennie, most definitely not Jennie. In fact, it’s the person you’ve been planning on avoiding all night. Before you can decide when to make a run for it and save yourself from the imminent embarrassment, a silver necklace is draped around your neck, a diamond-studded buttery resting nicely right below your collarbones.

“Beautiful,” he says again in that honey-dripping voice of his. “You should wear dresses more,”

“Chan! You just scared the living daylights out of me,” you whisper harshly, turning on your heels and shove his chest. You definitely didn’t know what you were signing up for because it’s a grave mistake for you to accidentally look into his captivating eyes and you can see an entire universe in them. Absolutely magnificent. He looks impeccably good in his bejeweled black suit jacket, black turtleneck, and a silver chain around his neck, matching pieces of jewelry adorning his ears.

Chan wiggles his brows like the self-indulging person that he is, straightening his lapel dramatically. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can smell that, but it reeks of jealousy in here, and also hatred, but mostly jealousy.”

“Can. You. Zip. It. And. Call. It. A. Day.” With every word, you repeatedly slap his chest, but only to see him breaking into a fit of giggles in return. You almost forgot that he works out, whereas, you literally have zero ounces of muscles on your body. What a disgrace to your family. Like come on, even Felix has abs, and he never turns down Tacos Tuesday whenever he has dance practice with Hyunjin because their studio is conveniently situated right next to the best Mexican restaurant.

And the guacamole there? Phenomenal.

Chan teases, “I thought girls like you should be taught to act like a lady, not hitting the innocents.”

“Stop being a baby, Bang, it’s not like I’m gonna leave you with a bruise or two.”

Ah yes, this reminds Chan of the good old days of college where you’re both in that weird phase where you’re too much of a scaredy-cat not to talk to him on a last name basis because Changbin was an idiot for constantly leaving you two alone in the music room. “Why?” His lips curl up into a grin. “Because you can’t even open a jar of spaghetti sauce by yourself?”

That’s…that’s just a harsh truth. And now you feel like Regina George getting hit by a bus because life’s willing to give you a piece of its mind. You’re weak as fuck.

“It’s not fair when Felix has a six packs while eating tacos every other week, and I’m here looking like this with a green smoothie for breakfast every day,” you mumble bitterly, already too tired to argue with Chan because the party’s starting in half an hour. “I swear he’s on drugs, he always puts something into his daily Americano.”

Chan laughs breathlessly and cups your face with his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure it’s just stevia since Lix has a sweet tooth. On the bright side, I think you look just fine like how you are right now. I like you just the way you are. No modification is needed.” The audacity.

Your nostrils flare with heat, and your cheeks feel hot against Chan’s cool fingers. Again, Chan looks really good tonight and you’re not sure how much longer your heart can hold up before you pass out in his arms. “Uhm, so, just to make it clear,” you fiddle with your fingers nervously. “You and I-“

“Hey guys, how are things going—” Jennie pops her head into the dressing room and looks around, seeing no signs of Changbin or Jisung whatsoever. “What did I miss?” She looks at you cluelessly, then her lips automatically spread into a shit-eating grin when she sees how Chan’s cupping your cheeks. Just when you thought you can’t possibly blush any more darkly.

You awkwardly pull away when Chan clears his throat, retrieving his hands from your face. “Jen, just get out, I swear it’s nothing.” Yeah, as if Jennie aka the person who proclaims to be an expert at love because she’s snuck way too many boys into her closet, is gonna believe your pathetic attempt at an explanation.

“Oh, I’ll get out,” Jennie throws you a wink and you can see how Chan’s shuddering slightly at the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now, don’t get too freaky in here okay kids, walls are pretty thin,” she asserts unhelpfully like the true friend that she is before shutting the door close. When you’re about to blurt out as many apologies as you can muster to Chan, a soft ‘click’ echoes through your eardrums. Your eyes grow alarmed almost immediately and so do Chan’s.

Did she just lock you inside the dressing room with Chan and expect something to happen? Kim. Fucking. Jennie.

“I hate you, and Jennie,” you tell Chan, not even bothering to hit him this time.

You’d rather take a nap on that couch over there than go out and party honestly. Parties only consist of two things most of the time: drinking and talking. But getting wasted is not an option tonight because you’re not about to spill rosé on the dress that Jennie adores the most. Although you do hate her ass right now.

And people don’t even hold proper conversations during parties unless they know each other, there are only small talks which are so….ugh. You don’t understand the purpose, the meaning of speaking to someone with a maximum of three sentences. You need a real, authentic, civil conversation about a specific topic that’s worth one’s time. Not just “how are you liking the party?” and “yeah, it’s dope, you?” or other gibberish nonsense.

Sometimes you feel bad for those people because their lives are staler than those crumbs of bread that pigeons feed off.

Chan tips his head back and releases the most obnoxiously loud series of laughter that you have to hold back the urge to kick him off the cruise. “You know you love me,”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t then why would you dash through the airport like a madwoman just to hug me and tell me those three magic words?”

“Too bad, my brain just refused to recall that memory.”

He grabs your chin and angles it so that you’re directly looking into his eyes, dimpled smile, and all. “Then do I need to interfere and remind you?”

You don’t think you’re gonna make it through tonight if Chan keeps making your chest swell like this.

twelve. You and Chan have decided to change into more casual outfits and ditch the formal ones to strip the awkwardness and tension to a bare minimum. And by ditching, you mean hanging them up nicely so that Jennie won’t strangle you later. It is her dress after all. But you have every right to burn it since it was her idea to lock you up with Chan in a dressing room. Thank God it’s almost the size of her closet. Now, you’re both laying flat on your backs on the navy fuzzy carpet before the white couch, already moved the tiny coffee table away so that you won’t accidentally knock something that costs a fortune over. Kind of insanitary too but you can’t care less.

“Are you hungry?” Chan turns his head and asks you, warm brown eyes twinkling under the dimmed light.

“No,” you shake your head, and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles involuntarily. As Chan bursts into laughter, you quickly cover up your pink cheeks with the palms of your hands, internally groaning in pure agony. “Yes, I am hungry like a normal human being should because it’s already midnight, sue me.” You confess.

If only some of Ryujin’s leftovers were here. This is exactly why you refuse to eat out most of the time. Why bother hiring high-end chefs and having fancy dishes when you’ve already had a roommate who’s born into cooking? God, you miss her spaghetti.

Chan props his head onto one of his arms and looks down at you, a glint of mischief evident in his orbs. “You know what’s a whole fucking gourmet dish? Me,” he peels your hands away from your face with ease, holding onto them tightly to prevent you from smacking his chest.

You roll your eyes at him in the bitchiest way possible, yanking your hands away from his because every touch burns like fire and you’re not letting yourself be vulnerable tonight. If you still remembered some of the moves from the martial art classes that mom forced you into when you were in middle school, Chan wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance. You almost snap someone’s arm in half back then, but those days are long gone.

“You? Please, you’re like those piles of unwanted leftover vegetables that everyone keeps giving away to their most annoying relatives,” you start talking big with no intention of meaning it.

Chan’s not just a single dish, he’s an entire buffet. You could never imagine how it felt like for him to have thousands of letters and notes pouring out from his personal locker when he’s wrapping up for the day. Yeah, a total heartthrob. That’s why all of the dumb bitches on campus would always circle around him during breaks, no matter where he went. You were one of them too, you’re also a dumb bitch. Except, you didn’t need to stalk him, Changbin did all the work for you: inviting you to sit with them during lunch breaks, letting you ride the 4419 home alone with Chan, consistently hinting at Chan about your stupid feelings for him every two seconds,… In all honesty, you should be thanking him but you also want to throw him into a tank full of sharks.

Chan gasps, like audibly gasps as if you’re throwing shade at him, which you totally are. “You’re such an absurd, unreasonable, incongruous, preposterous-“ he pauses midway because he’s already running out of big words for ‘ridiculous’ to call you out on; it takes guts and Oscar-worthy acting to insult his godly appearance and impeccable visual, it really does. “—whatever, doesn’t matter. I know that you’re lying,” he singsongs before pushing himself off the carpet, stretching his limbs tiredly.

You think it’s almost two hours since you’re laying in a single spot, and you’re not risking having any parts of your body paralyzed so you get up, proceeding to do the same thing. “I can’t believe you didn’t have your phone with you,” you throw your hands up in exasperation, careful not to chip one of your nails. Lisa didn’t spend an hour on them for nothing. “And no one is even looking for us! Literally no one!” You can’t exactly blame your chaotic group of friends because they’ve probably fallen asleep since formal parties like these are so damn boring but Chan’s parents not freaking out about their missing son? And his “fiancé” too? That’s oddly concerning.

“You don’t have your phone with you either,” he snickers, hands reaching for the random acoustic guitar in the corner of the room. “I doubt that Lisa or Jisoo’s gonna get us out of here, I don’t even have faith in the two other parts of 3RACHA anymore.”

“What about your fiancé?” You ask him out of the blue, completely ignoring the sudden pang in your chest.

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, strumming some random chords with the instrument. “I broke it off with her, in front of my parents.”

“Cool then-“ you almost choke on your own saliva, “—hold up, did I just mishear you? Did you dump her?! In front of your parents?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You heave, feeling your heart rate increasing by the nanosecond. Not only did Chan break down the walls you’ve been trying to build, he utterly eliminated the invisible barrier between your life and him (sorry Jaemin), and he knocked down the only obstacle left that’s in his way. Now, imagine two dots with a single line to connect them both. Everything’s as simple as that but your brain is already fried from coming up with one hundred and one ways to move in the slowest way possible.

Chan keeps strumming the guitar in his arms but purses his lips at your particular way of responding to his previous statement. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice. And no, they didn’t disown me. I was like ‘fuck it’, and I told them everything. Not everything-everything, but like everything-everything, you feel me?”

No, I don’t fucking feel you but I can physically feel the shame and agony that’s slowly dawning on me you moron, you think to yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to prevent yourself from exploding like a ticking bomb.

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything since they were too…uh, taken aback by the amount of information I guess..”

“Chan, I don’t think you were thinking straight—“

He interrupts you with a sad pout, sticking out his bottom lip. “Why are you talking about my parents and not this guitar?” This man is being ridiculous, as stubborn as a child.

“IT’S A GUITAR! RELAX ABOUT IT!”

“I GOT THIS FOR YOU!” Chan raises his voice slightly to catch you off guard and then sighs deeply. “Felix said you hadn’t played the guitar in years, but you were pretty good at it. So I wanted to surprise you, don’t you like it?”

“Chan, you what?” Your voice grows smaller and smaller until it’s only as audible as a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that- of course I like it! But- it’s just..” You stop talking completely to take a closer look at the acoustic guitar in his hands. It’s made of a reddish-brown type of timber with a satin finish, you can tell that the wood will age well through time and create more depth and warmth to the sound of the instrument. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a guitar, but it’s been way too long since you’ve touched one.

“I- I forgot how to play it after a while..”

Chan throws a wolffish wink in your direction as a reassurance that there wouldn’t be a problem with that. “I can show you how to if you like.”

“Moving too fast, moon is lighting up her skin,” Chan cuts you off softly with his angelic voice, and your heart is stuck in your throat, refraining you from barking back with anything. “She’s falling, doesn’t even know it yet. Heart is beating loud but she doesn’t want it to stop.”

Is he seriously trying to do this by singing a song? A fucking One Direction’s song?

“We’re only getting older, baby. And I’ve been thinking about it lately,” Chan’s voice slowly bleeds into the chorus, and you feel as if all of your pride and dignity have been thrown out the window because you’re completely frozen in your spot when he sits down next to you. Chan smiles throughout the lyrics seeing how you’re looking at him like he’s the only person left in the entire Milky Way, a strange warm sensation bubbling up in his stomach. “Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?”

“Everything that you’ve ever dreamt of, disappearing when you wake up,” Chan’s heart does an entirety of an acrobatic routine when he locks his eyes with yours. Seemingly to keep himself together, but the insides just feel like he’s being hung upside down on a tree with blood rushing to his face. This just has to be the cheesiest, sappiest, not-necessarily-scream-CB97 way to confess to someone but fuck it, he still needs to shoot his shot. “But there’s not to be afraid of. Even when the night changes…”

He pauses for a few seconds, “..it will never change me and you..” and finishes off smoothly, embarrassment growing more evident on his cheeks.

What did you tell yourself months ago, Y/N? Aren’t you tired of trying? How are you so sure that he wouldn’t do it again? Haven’t you had enough?

Yeah, you’d never know. And yes, you’ve had enough.

Well, to hell with that.

That’s when everything clicks in place. After all this time, after everything you’ve been through, after everything he’s done, you can finally see why you’ve been chasing him relentlessly knowing damn well that your heart is still in his hands, one wrong move and you’ll be utterly destroyed forever. Nobody compares to Chan. Nobody makes you smile like he does, nobody makes you laugh like he does and nobody makes you cry as hard as he does. It’s almost a truth that’s universally acknowledged that everything has been leading up to this specific moment, your heartbeat comes in sync, and two completely different worlds collide with each other.

You almost lost yourself all the way to him, but in him, you also found the way back to you. And how do you argue with the algorithm of falling for someone when the entire universe has conspired for the both of you to be together since forever?

“Uhm…so what-“

Before he can even finish his sentence, you abruptly grab a fistful of his hoodie and yank him towards you. Chan physically feels shivers run up his spine when your hand automatically interlocks with his, still fits like a glove. You kiss him with such desperation and tenderness it makes him feel as if you’ve been wandering this celestial sphere by yourself in the past century, yet he’s always had your heart. And he lets himself trust you with his in your hands once again because this is only the beginning. The paths ahead might not always be peaches and cream, but if it’s with you, he’s willing to stick with you ‘till the very end of it.

You’re the first one to break the kiss, managing to talk between short breaths. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Chan shakes his head and laughs breathlessly, wearing a dimpled on his face, “Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d take me back after everything.”

“After everything?” You merely chuckle when tiny bits of confusion in his orbs soon disintegrate into stardust, floating through the galaxy for eons. “A million times over, I will still choose you and let you rip my heart in half if that’s what it takes for me to stay by your side.”

Chan feels like he’s floating in midair, head all fuzzy and moonstruck. “Actually though…can I kiss you again?”

“And then nap time?” You let out a big yawn, making Chan toss his head back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“And then nap time,” he agrees, gingerly pulling you in by the waist while trying to stop himself from picturing the smirk on BamBam’s face when he opens the door in the morning.

Likewise, BamBam indeed opens the door to the dressing room early in the morning to make a move on his cleanup duty before Chan’s parents have a cardiac arrest. His smirks can’t possibly grow any wider when he sees you cuddle closely to Chan, palms resting on his chest while his hands are locked on your waistline. And BamBam sighs in relief because thank goodness he did shoot his shot.

[drjackandmissjo]

it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- chapter 7 --- next chapter

feysand masterlist

“Call my bluff, Call you ‘babe’“

It had been a fairly long day for Feyre. She had to organise a new collection for her gallery, dealing with things like catering for the event and security and insurances on the pieces that had to be exposed. Her assistant Ressina was searching for two more artworks, since two of her own paintings that she was supposed to showcase had been just bought.

The website Azriel had built for her gallery had been a complete success since the opening day, through it Feyre had managed to sell almost all of her creations and many of those that she presented through the gallery itself, reaching the proper audience even outside of Prythian. Paying for international shipping was her new most hated activity, but she couldn't complain.

In the few years since she had graduated and started business for herself, she had made a name for herself. Her junior and last year of university had given her the opportunity to internship in one of the best art museums in Velaris, where she learnt the importance of good displays and how to haggle the right price for each piece. During that time she mostly painted for commissions, which she continued to take now, five years later, with the only difference being that now a 'Feyre A.N.' costed much more than in her early days. Even those she created freely, out of her own heart's desires, were being sold at fairly high prices with a surprisingly high rate.

So now she had to look and scout for new artists to display, considering the current shortage of her own artworks. It all brought a whole new sense of responsibility to Feyre and a whole lot of paperwork she wasn't particularly fond of. She was everyday grateful of her choice of hiring an assistant, even if at the beginning she was a bit sceptical.

Thankfully, Velaris was the best place in the entire world to be an artist, a safe haven: the city had an entire neighborhood, the Rainbow, fully inhabited by writers and sculptors and poets and painters, with several theatres and galleries and museums. Feyre had chosen to open shop there, in one of the main streets and it had been a glorious success since the inauguration. The artists that made the community had welcomed her warmly and with open arms, helping her get on her own feet at the start with their support, and now she was repaying them in kind, offering opportunities to anyone who might need them.

Her originally rented space now fully belonged to her, having been bought two years after the opening with the money her hard work brought. She had fallen in love with the locale in an heartbeat, as she walked the Rainbow hand in hand with her boyfriend as he helped her carry back to her place bags full of paint and canvases. Feyre had stopped dead in her tracks, as if called by it, declaring it the perfect spot. Rhys had laughed at her and kissed the top of her head, telling her how she should take the number of the owner and contact them to see if she could rent. Being fresh out of college meant she didn't have enough funds to do more, but one day, Rhys had said, it could've been hers.

The old lady who owned the space had been ecstatic with her call and heard her ideas with interest. The rent was decent, given the great metrage and locations, but the place was new and needed little to no modifications, and thus 'Starfall ' gallery was born.

When her clock chimed, telling her the time, she slowly rose from her chair, stretching her sore back. The new tattoo she had gotten three weeks prior on her spine still hadn't healed fully, causing her some wincing that her husband was constantly worried of. The long piece was a masterpiece on its own, the longline depicting the different lunar phases she had drawn herself.

Deciding to call it a day, she gathered her stuff and closed the lights, locking the door on her way out. Despite it being mid-October, the weather was still pleasantly warm even during the evening, and Feyre enjoyed walking alongside of the Sidra quietly as the wind quietly messed her hair. She and Rhys had bought a townhouse on the other side of the river before their wedding, close enough to be able to walk to their respective workplaces, she to the Rainbow while he went back to the university, teaching English poetry and drama, as he had chosen that specific minor on his senior year.

Although they had a similar commute, the different paths had Rhys always beat her to the rush home and he started usually dinner, as she was downright cursed with her cooking inhabilities. Even helping in the kitchen was something she did carefully, her and her husband both weary of the outcomes. The only thing she could do safely from 'scratch' was to heat up soup.

A wicked plan began to outline itself in her mind. It had been awhile since she had humoured her husband, both too focused on their respective works. She moved in the upstair bedroom they shared, removing her proper attire to slip into a severely more comfortable pair of leggings and a worn out t-shirt, covered in blue paint of every shade. " This is gonna be fun" she thought, delighted in the possible turn of events as she rang up his favourite Chinese restaurant to order take-out to be delivered.

And then she set to 'work'.

***

As soon as she felt the front door open, Feyre moved swiftly to rotate the timer on the oven and made it set off immediately. She knew Rhys had heard the little series of noises that signaled the end of a cooking process. He usually would discard his keys on the small table that decorated their tiny foyer as soon as the door closed behind him, but this time he was stalling.

Probably debating whether to retreat back outside in case the kitchen exploded or not.

The problem wasn't that she was a bad cook perse. Feyre never had much time playing around the stove growing up, thankfully for them Elain was the chef of the household. She had learnt the basics, how to boil water for instant cheap ramen noodles and how to heat up frozen pre-cooked stuff in the microwave of the communal kitchen of her dorm on her first month in Velaris, with Alis patiently telling her what to do to survive in case there was an emergency. During the years she had tried a little more, once she moved with Amren and Mor and had a kitchen at her disposal without limitations.

Her first attempt at scrambling eggs for breakfast set the fire alarm off and she had to explain to an exasperated fireman that the house wasn't on fire. That earned her a wary look from her roommates, but considering that neither of them had any luck with cooking, no one spoke of it for the following week.

Her second one brought a weird texture of a pasture looking like brown instead of the expected yellow, completely stuck at the bottom of the pan. Not burnt, simply attached there and impossible to remove. She then went to buy a new set, throwing the mystery pan immediately in the trash.

Cassin was with her for her third trial, to guide her into the mystical art he had mastered, and made her solemnly swear to never, ever , again touch a kitchen utensil if not with the sole purpose to eat with it, and even then he had some serious doubts about letting her anywhere near anything inside a kitchen. She wasn't allowed to be there unsupervised, he had said, scared shitless.

So the problem wasn't inside her cooking abilities, since she made the best sandwiches out of anyone in the Inner Circle, but rather her rotten luck an inability not to burn anything that involved heat or patience to be made.

A smile appeared on Feyre's lips as she suppressed a series of giggles that were threatening to rise up, imagining the face her husband was surely making. The sounds from the foyer told her two things: the door had been closed and remained unlocked, ready to aid in their escape from a fire that Rhysand thought undoubtedly might happen any minute, and her husband was taking his time through his routine, as if a minimal change in the air might've triggered the self destruction of their home.

"Darling?" he called for her as he made his way through the open space of the living room to reach for the kitchen, cautiously stopping before properly entering the room and setting off something.

Feyre immediately turned around, her light brown hair neatly folded in a messy bun swinging to the side and promptly losing some strands that fell into her face. She found him leaning against the doorframe, seemingly relaxed were it not for the fact he was hiding his hands inside the pockets of his black pants. Her genuine smile seemed to ease his stance and Rhys took the opportunity to move towards her. She turned back at the task at hand as he walked past the island, using her knife to cut an apple into tiny slices. His arms came to encircle her, effectively pinning her against the counter, and she leaned back, resting her head on his chest.

"How was work today?" she asked, warmth radiating through her as he bent down to place a soft kiss to the top of her head. For someone who thought the stove might explode at any minute, he was incredibly calm with the whole ordeal.

"The usual" he shrugged "some kid had the audacity to groan when I told them we would soon start with Shakespeare's Sonnets!"

One of the many things she utterly loved about him was how passionate he was for his job, for the curriculum he got to teach each class. Overall, his favourite subject was Shakespeare, on whom he did his dissertation which got him the place at the University. He still kept on writing, publishing mostly the new researches his department did, and he worked with all his heart.

Feyre shook her head slightly, "Kids this day have no respect." Then, in afterthought, she added "Are you going to downplay the whole homoerotic full blown text like our old prof did?"

"Are you crazy? That's the best part!" His grip tightened around her as she set the knife down, wiping her hands on a nearby handchendief. "I'm thinking about letting those freshmans do their winter final paper on who they actually thought Good Ol' Willy was shagging."

"Professor Carver might object." she said, turning in his arms and now facing him, her back against the cold material of the counter.

"Who do you think I got the idea from? That man wants nothing more than to gossip, even if it's 500 years old stuff."

"Remember how he was somehow the first person outside our Inner Circle to know we were dating when we came back?" They both laughed at the memory, noses brushing softly as they were both content to remain there.

"How was your day?" he asked, his breath caressing her neck gently.

"Too much paperwork. But I sold that Springtime painting we both didn't like to probably the most horrible and rude woman ever."

The woman had truly been a demon: she had stormed in as if she owned the place, demanding attention. Ressina had been patient and listened to her raging nonsense as best as she could, but couldn't do much herself. Feyre then went into her aid: she had past experience dealing with bad customers from when she used to be a waitress in high school, yet this woman took the cake. lanthe Spring, as she had proudly introduced herself as if she was the most important person in the world, was looking for a present for her husband, she had told her while raising the most preposterous ring to ever been made. The green gems looked more like a torture device than a wedding ring, but Feyre didn't usually judge. After an entire hour looking at the catalogue, her eyes had set on one of the paintings Feyre had done way back in her freshman year. She had finally gotten the approval from the art department to sell the early works she had done during her period there and the majority had either already been sold or she had gifted to her family and friends. That was the last one to remain in Feyre's possession, probably the laziest work she had ever done: the colours well dull, the motif unclear; despite it showing a green and flowery scenery, it resembled much more a dead nature. She hadn't been in the best mindset when the work had come to life, her constant fights with Tamlin causing an artist block on all her works, yet the woman had been ecstatic, claiming it reminded her of her own husband.

Feyre didn't make the connection until she saw the checkbook, yet no feeling came to her, good nor bad. She would've liked to know his reaction at seeing her painting though, just to get some sick and twisted satisfaction at how she was thriving with only her 'hobby' . "But I got a nice cut from that, so dinner's on me!" she finished lightly, pulling herself from her daydream.

"I know exactly what you're doing, Feyre Darling." he hummed from her neck, as he drew his lips across the skin. Suddenly she was finding it hard to concentrate. "I have no idea of what you're talking about, Rhysand."

He pulled back abruptly, moving their bodies till she was now leaning against the empty and clean kitchen island. "Your attempt at scaring me almost worked, you know?" he whispered against her ear, moving to nibble at the soft flesh, "But next time make a little mess with some flour all around if you want to truly give me a heart attack."

"But you see," she started, trying to sort her foggy thoughts as the world narrowed to where his lips were against her neck once more, "I'd have to take you to the ER then and that's too much work, babe." She was breathless, sick of the attention her neck was getting. Hands plunged in his hair, positioning him flush against her as her lips claimed his, his own hands roaming freely under her T-shirt.

He suddenly pulled away slightly, eyes never leaving hers and not bothering to remove his hands from where they rested on her back, slowly working the clasps of her bra. "Not to mention you don't even know where to find most things that aren't downright edible without preparation in our pantry, am I correct?"

She brought him back down in an instant, "Arrogant prick" she murmured against his lips as she began to undo the button of his shirt, their hips moving in sync as their lips.

He hoisted her up on the island counter in one swift move as she took the shirt off of his shoulders, caressing the inky swirls of his traditional lilynian tattoo that adorned his upper torso. He immediately returned the favour, removing her tee and bra in one swipe, moving his attention fully to the newly exposed skin, biting and nipping there. Her grip on his hair became iron as his hands darthed southward, his own wedding band cold against her feverish skin as his mouth drew circles around her breast. He began to slowly slid off her leggings, never once removing his mouth from her, when the doorbell rang.

A string of colourful profanities that could've rivaled a sailor's entire vocabulary made its way out of Feyre's mouth as her husband merely laughed at their interrupted moment.

"I've ordered Chinese" was the only non-curse Feyre spoke as she jumped of the counter, grabbing her t-shirt to answer the door at least decent.

"I was indeed promised dinner" Rhys said, not bothering to cover himself as his wife paid for the food.

"I still got you there for a second, didn't l?" she asked, walking back to the kitchen carrying two bags.

Rhys kissed her cheek sweetly, "Always, my Darling."

[2sunchild2]

Daminette au: When Karma bites back

Au created by the one and only Ozzie Osbourne @ozmav this is dedicated to you ♥️♥️♥️

Tags ûwû: @realrandomposts @slytherinsheashire @kelelamentia @justatempo-writes @maxdark158 @maribat-archive @mindfulmagics @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @jaynintodd @miraculous-mangoes

===================================================

“Are you nervous?”

Marinette looked at her husband through the bathroom mirror. He was leaning against the doorframe of the hotel bathroom, looking at her with concerned eyes. She sighed and put her hairbrush down and turned around.

“About what? They already have their deluded opinions of me, I’m just going to see if they acquired any brain cells since high school.”

He said nothing. He simply chuckled and strolled towards her to embrace her in a comforting hug and tucked her head under his chin. They stayed like that for a good minute before he released her and cupped her face, “You’re a terrible liar, Angel.”

She pouted and pushed him away, “Shut up, I have to fix my hair, shoo.”

Damian smiled and walked out.

Marinette looked back at herself in the mirror and sighed.

“Tikki, would you mind helping me out?”

The kwami only let out a giggle.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

“We can always back out you know,” she looked at her husband, “You don’t have to see them again.”

“Yeah I know, but I want to. I’m gonna the bigger person here.”

They drove quietly to the school, though the silence was interrupted by Damian’s laughter. Marinette’s eyebrow twitched. He was mocking her. She hated being mocked. Keeping her eyes on the road, she calmly asked him, “And just what, is so funny darling?”

“How can you be the bigger person if you’re so short?”

Marinette scoffed and parked the car, “I can kick your ass.”

Damian stared back at her lovingly, “I know.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&

If you ever told eighteen year old Marinette she would come back to François-DuPont for a high school reunion, she’d laugh at you and would proceed to make fun of you.

As soon as she graduated from that hell hole, she attended Regal Academy to pursue her career as a designer, and she managed to find a tight knit group of friends. Felix joined her in designing, specifically men’s fashion, Allegra became a musician, Claude became a famous theatrical artist and Allen was a composer working with Allegra. She had other friends too, she was a social person after all. Luka, Chloe and Kagami. She cherished those idiots and loved them with all her heart. She and Chloe put their differences aside and turns out, they actually have quite a lot in common. During her last year of high school it felt like it was just her and Chloe against the world. And then Kagami and Luka came.

Her heart warmed at the thought of seeing Chloe again. She hadn’t seen her since the wedding five years ago. Yes, she was married. At twenty two she had accepted Damian Wayne’s proposal and they got married the next year. Sure, she married young, but when you and your fiancé are already doing very well in life you don’t need to worry about anything.

She felt Damian squeezing her hand for reassurance. She looked at him briefly before looking back at the gym doors.

Here goes nothing.

@@@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@@@@@@@@ @@@@@@

Lila was a lawyer, a very successful one at that. She was rich, she lived a lavish life and she had a rich husband. Being Lila Agreste was amazing. That didn’t stop her from spewing lies fro her lips.

Her old classmates, except a few who didn’t care for her anymore, hung onto every word she told.

“Why yes, I did meet MDC. We didn’t get along at first but we managed to put our differences aside.”

It was no secret MDC was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. But the raven haired girl was far more successful than she was and she wanted people to know she still has connections to famous personalities.

Alya lightly flinched at the name, “Didn’t you and Marinette used to hate each other? You told us she used to bully you.”

Lila knew this question would come up so she smartly replied, “yeah well, we’re adults now. She apologized and we made up. We’re like this.” She crossed her fingers.

A loud scoff was heard and she, along with a few others, turned to see Chloe of all people standing there. Kim let out a low whistle and Alix elbowed him. She stood there in a gold dress that hugged her figure beautifully and she was dripping in jewels a champagne glass in hand.

“What do you want Chloe?” Alya rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. “Shouldn’t you be crying to your daddy about someone getting dirt on your tote? Oh wait— daddy’s in jail now for being a fraud right?”

The blonde only glared at the other girl and gripped her glass tightly. She took a deep breath, “I’ll have you know I no longer that connections to that spineless coward. I moved to New York with my mom and studied to become a human rights activist. But you wouldn’t know that, would you Alya? And just what are you doing now? Filming more gossip for your tabloid?”

Alya got predictably angry and wasbkut to hell at her before being stopped by Nino. He merely shook his head, telling her it wasn’t worth it, when she tried to defend herself.

“Chloe? Is there a problem?”

The rather large group turned to see none other than Kagami Tsurugi walk up to them. Chloe simply smiled, “No darling, everything’s fine.”

“You... you guys... are a thing?” Alya managed to spit out after the shock.

“Yes, is there a problem?” Kagami glared at the other girl who flinched and looked away.

“Kagami, don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

That voice gave Alya and Lila a sense of relief. There he stood, looking as good as he did in high school, just a tad bit more mature. His blond hair was cut short and his green eyes seemed to pierce through everyone’s soul.

“Adrien! Darling!” Lila yelled and jumped to hug him.

Chloe stepped back, eyes widened when she caught sight of a ring she realized what happened between those two. He got married. He got married to that lying bitch no less. He got married and... and he didn’t even tell her. He didn’t even invite her.

“I was just telling everyone how I met up with Marinette. I did give her the inspiration for her latest fashion line, after all.”

Chloe and Kagami opened their mouths to tell her off, knowing that Marinette got her idea when one of her employees told her how hard it was to find nice clothes in her size.

“You know,” a cold voice called out, “ I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my wife as if you actually know her.”

All heads turned to see a brooding man with black hair and the scariest green eyes they’ve come to know. He wore a fitted designer suit and stood tall, with the aura only a business man could have. And by the looks of it, he seemed to be a pretty successful one at that.

And right there, holding his hand was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She looked stunning in the dark red red she wore. It was a simple backless halter top and the skirt of the dress had two long slits on each side that showcased her legs. She held herself with pride and most importantly dignity.

She scanned the room, ignoring the many eyes looking at her before they stopped on one couple. Her eyes widened with excitement and she could’ve squealed like a school girl.

“Chlo! Mimi!”

She grabbed her husband’s arm and dragged him across the room while she sped to her two friends and engulfed them with a hug.

“Oh I’ve missed you guys so much! How’ve you two been? Are the preparations going as planned? Do you still want me to make your dresses?”

A million questions were asked and the girls couldn’t answer any of them with how quickly Marinette was going.

“Angel,” her husband called her, she stopped and looked back at him, “Let then breathe a little. They’re won’t be able to answer any of your questions if you’re going a hundred miles per hour.”

Marinette smiled sheepishly, “I guess you’re right.”

There was a cough and the raven haired girl turned to see none other than her former best friend, Alya Césaire. Or Lahiffe. She was not invited to the wedding, but she was requested to make the dress. She only agreed because she was getting paid. Thought Alya did throw a fit for pay because “girl we used to be friends!”

Funny.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi?”

Marinette looked at her, genuinely confused, “Now why would I do that?”

“Aren’t you friends with Lila? You could at least eat civil and say hi to the rest of us.”

Marinette slowly blinked. Realization dawned on her quickly. Lila lies about her. She told them they were friends. They were far from it. If anything, Marinette hated that girl with every fibre of her being.

“I don’t recall saying I was friends with Lila,” she turned to Chloe and Kagami, “Do you girls remember me saying that?”

They shook their heads.

“Honey,” her husband looked up from his phone, “Do you remember me saying I was friends with Lila?”

“What? No. You told me you hated her ever since she threatened you in the school bathroom.”

Now it was Lila’s turn to flinch.

Her husband seemed lost in thought for a moment before snapping his finger, “And I remember you telling me how she told you she’d alienate you from the class, when she lied about napkins somehow being dangerous? Knowing Prince Ali. I know the man, he doesn’t know of a Lila by the way. Saving Jagged Stone’s cat, which he never had and being Clara Nightingale’s emergency contact? Don’t those two treat you like family Angel?”

“Damian, sweetheart,” she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, “that’s enough.”

Lila glared at the man, “Who do you think you are?!”

He gave her a bored look, “A Wayne.”

Conversation stopped. Now everyone looked at the couple in the middle of the room. A Wayne. A fucking Wayne.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitfuck

“Hey now, let’s not argue about this,” there he was, trying to solve conflict like the fucking saviour he thought he was. Marinette scoffed and looked away.

“Mind your god damned business Agreste.”

“This is my business, Wayne. Especially if my wife is involved.”

Ah yes, another dress she was requested to make. She had charged extra for that dress because she was asked to make it a month before the wedding itself.

Damian simply glared at the blond boy, “You’re acting as if this doesn’t concern my wife either.”

“Damian, love, don’t bother. You’re better than this,” she put her hand of his chest and when he turned to look at her she smiled, “how about we get some champagne and sit at one of the tables yeah? Chloe? Kagami? Will you be joining us? “

“In a minute hun, we need to talk to them first,” Chloe replied dismissively and Marinette nodded.

“You have a lot of nerve trying to lie about her,” Kagami started, “ you know damn well she doesn’t want anything to do with you. And I’m sure you’ve made it clear you don’t like her, so why bother lying about it?”

Lila fidgeted. The classmates watched her expectantly. Fifteen seconds later Alix yelled out in frustration and dragged Max and Kim to the table to apologize.

“I... I.. um..” she started, not being able to form a proper sentence.

“You... you...” Chloe mocked. Adrien gave her a dark look but she didn’t flinch. She gave him a blank stare in return.

“You don’t actually know Jagged Stone, do you.”

“Was Spielberg a lie too?”

“Why’d you lie about everything?”

“Was it really all a lie?”

Lila, who couldn’t work this fast under pressure, walked away to the girls’ bathroom.

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

The couple watched the mess unfold and waited while several people came towards them with apologetic faces.

“Don’t you think that was a little harsh?”

“Angel, it was well deserved.”

They laughed together for what seemed like forever. She was happy where she was. She had accepted their apologies naturally because she was a kind person. The same couldn’t be said for Damian but it didn’t matter to the rest of the class.

Adrien watched her. She looked so happy. She smiled like that when they were younger. She smiled like that when they were running on rooftops on warm Parisian nights.

He traced the finger where his silver ring used to be. He missed those times. He missed being with her. Maybe if he stopped Lila when he could, things would have been different. Maybe he would’ve been on the receiving end of that smile. Maybe he would’ve been the one to embrace her like that. And maybe, just maybe, she would look at him the way he looked at her. But she didn’t. All because of his passive stupidity.

He caught her husband’s eyes, who immediately glared at him and sucked in a deep breath. He whispered something in her year and she looked back at him. And all he could do was look away. She didn’t spare him a second glance because she turned around and gave him a peck on the cheek.

££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££

the end? maybe I’ll continue? This was getting long anyways. Should I make a part 2?

🤷🏼‍♀️ yes or no

[happytsukki]

Can I req 51 and 94 for Ushijima pls!! 😊

thank you for requesting!! this is my first request and i was so nervous with how it would turn out but i would say i’m pleased with it :)

i think ushi can be a bit hard to characterize properly so i hope i did him some justice

&& i didn’t mean to drag it in for so long ugh i can’t write anything less than 1k i swear

— RED

pairing: time skip! ushijima x f! reader

prompt: “pretend to be my date, just for tonight please.” + “wanna hear something funny? i think i’m falling for you.”

wc: 1.6k

includes goshiki + ushijima time skip

ushijima despises losing. whether it be the volleyball match that led his team to nationals or another childish game of rock paper scissors with kageyama over who would have to stay behind after practice to clean, he would much rather indulge in the taste of victory.

this situation was no different.

“i bet you and kageyama won’t bring dates to the banquet tomorrow,” hoshiumi teased, a satisfying smile dancing on his lips after kageyama groans out of annoyance.

amid the boys’ childish bickering, ushijima ponders long and hard. if this really was a bet, then he was not going to be the one to lose, especially to kageyama and hoshiumi. losing to them was a humiliation that he was ready to take all measures to avoid. surely finding a date wouldn’t be that hard if he already had someone in mind.

“no. i have a date.”

his voice echoes through the busy locker room, falling onto the ears of his older, much more experienced teammates. their locker room talk about their own personal lives shifts onto the focus ushijima’s ‘mystery’ date.

“ushijima is bringing a date!”

“huh..i must say, i’m impressed.”

“you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend, ushiwaka.”

now that the entire schweiden adlers team seemed to be well aware of ushijima’s date to the banquet tomorrow, he couldn’t back out. how embarrassing it would be if he arrived without a date adorning his arm. he would never hear an end to it, knowing how shameless his seniors were when it came to teasing the newcomers to the team.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

“i what?”

ushijima clears his throat, “pretend to be my date, just for tonight.” he showcases his signature, stoic expression except his fierceness is replaced by uncertainty. “please.”

you take a long sip of your matcha green tea, compliments of the miracle boy seated in front of you at the moment. ushijima was no stranger to you, but neither was he your best friend. during high school, you were practically tied to the hip with tendou, which also just happened to be ushijima’s best friend.

hangouts of two turned into a party of three and while you couldn’t deny that you were fascinated by the complexity of the ace, you always kept it to yourself. maybe it was the way that he lived and breathed volleyball, his presence on the court easily domineering any competitor. or maybe it was how unintentionally funny he was off the court; always making you giggle at his struggle to understand idioms or how long it took him to read tendou’s mangas because he read the ads as well.

after high school, the two of you naturally lost touch, so it was indeed a shock for him to reach out after all this time.

“do i look like some sort of escort to you?” you narrow your eyes at him, leaning forward to the other side of the table.

“i don’t know what an escort is, nor do i know what they look like,” he says, reaching for his phone to do a quick google search.

then you laugh. ushijima’s eyes immediately dart from his phone back to you, the corners of his lips up turning to the familiarity of that sweet tune.

“i’m only kidding, ushijima.” you chuckled cheerfully. “but what’s in it for me?”

“ah, i see,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and pulling his thick-padded wallet out from his pocket.

your hands shoot out, pressing him to put away his wallet, “not what i meant,” you reassure him. “ i meant more like...how about you treat me for dinner one of these days?”

ushijima is beyond perplexed. he’s not exactly sure why you wouldn’t accept the money if you wanted dinner. he was more than willing to pay you 100,000 yen which could buy almost a week’s worth of dinner, but he decided against asking and simply nodded along to your terms.

“deal. see you tonight then.”

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

“wow.”

those are the only words to escape ushijima’s lips once his eyes fall onto your figure.

you’re dressed in a little black dress with matching red bottom louboutins, topped off with a classic red lip.

“um...are we gonna get going soon?” you prodded in the passenger seat of his car.

ushijima didn’t even notice how long he seemed to be fixated on your lips but he shakes himself out of it, hoping that you don’t notice the same color scattering his cheeks.

once you arrive at the banquet, you’re greeted with a parade of hoots and hollers which seem to come from his teammates.

“wait, ushijima you actually brought a date? we thought you were kidding.” remarked a man far older than ushijima.

“i do not lie. i told you i would.” ushijima dismisses their banter, rather placing his hand on your lower back to guide you away from the overwhelming attention.

“OI, USHIJIMA YOU HAVE A DATE? IS SHE YOUR GIRLFRIEND?” a shorter boy with light-colored hair approaches from behind. “that means you beat kageyama ha! look at him over there, no date.”

he points a finger towards an empty table where a black-haired boy is situated, boredom seemingly overcoming him as he plays with his salad.

“y/n, this is hoshiumi, one of our outside hitters.”

hoshiumi flashes you a smile and rather than a handshake, he places a small peck on your hand and winks at you.

“so are you dating?”

“actually y/n is—“ ushijima begins, but before he can continue you cut him off.

“yes, of course. why else would i be here?” you chuckle. hoshiumi’s bright demeanor immediately deflates and he waddles away, a pout glued on his face.

relief washes over ushijima as he watches hoshiumi walk away, but he’s not sure why. “you didn’t have to y/n.”

“go big or go home, right?” you shrug nonchalantly, interlacing your fingers with his to drag him to the nearest table.

the rest of the night reminds you of high school, except without tendou. this time it’s just you and ushijima. you think maybe you’ve changed since then, transforming from someone that was once too timid to raise their hand in class to a top student in university.

but ushijima? he hasn’t changed at all, his body might’ve grown bigger and taller, but he was still the volleyball-loving dork you came to know.

“i missed you.” he blurts out, instantly catching you off guard that you almost chock on water. “are you okay?”

you were so not okay.

how could he just say that like it was nothing? what was it supposed to mean?

“i’m fine,” you smile at a worried ushijima after recomposing yourself. “what do you mean ‘you missed me?’” you question.

“tendou talks about you a lot when i call,” he explains. “i just thought...we’re in the same city but we never catch up or talk anymore. are we still friends?”

you’ve always thought of ushijima as a friend but you also assumed that he thought you were just “tendou’s friend." 

“oh my god, of course, we’re friends ushi!” you beam and you can’t help but notice his faint smile. “i guess it has been a while, huh? so tell me everything.”

ushijima tells you of his professional volleyball career after high school. from the big accomplishments like winning league to the smallest victories such as when he watches goshiki play in his first v-league game.

he listens intently as you explain your part-time job at an editing company all while you study hard during your last year of university.

unfortunately, his teammates jump in and steal him away from you. rather than sitting idly by, you decide to take a breather on the rooftop.

you climb up the flights of stairs and take in the scenery.

an inky canopy of the endless abyss you and your thoughts. you peek over the ledge, sighing loudly while your brain edged the brink of exploding.

“i was scared you left.” a voice pants from the doorframe, there, ushijima stands, breathless and sweating.

he joins you by your side, silently gazing in awe at the sky.

“wanna know something funny?” you breathe, turning your head towards ushijima, who is far too focused on the millions of glistening freckles of light scattering the night sky. “i think i’m falling for you.”

his breath hitches in his throat and he swears he can hear his heart pounding behind his ribcage. his eyes slowly shift from the stars to you, already peering up at him.

his eyes wander the expression on your face, from your slightly parted crimson lips to the liquid pools of adoration that begged him to take the jump.

so he did.

he leans down, hands resting below your ears as he gently caresses your cheek before he rushes in to press his lips against yours. it’s delicate and soft with a tinge of inexperience, but it didn’t matter. a wave of warmth washes over you, and soon your arms find their way around his neck to deepen the kiss, leaving no space between your bodies.

ushijima’s lips feel like a dream, and as they connect, electricity rushes through your body, making you feel as if you could short circuit right there and then. breathlessly, you two pull away from each other.

with foreheads still resting on each other, “maybe i’m falling for you too,” ushijima whispers, a grin etched across his face.

your eyes widen, looking down at his swollen lips, your hands rummage through your purse for a napkin. “oh no, ushi, your lips are all red from my lipstick.” you laugh.

“i don’t mind,” ushijima states, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in once again.

[pearlplusau]

Chapter 5, The Insertion part 2

Beta kindergarten, dawn

The sky transitioned from orange to baby blue, the shadows of the desert sand stretched along the very few boulders, dark shadows manifested at the base of the giant stone, looking as if it was dipped in a pool. A pink gem walked past the scenery.

‘It's a new day, and a chance to prove myself!’ Coral trudged along the desert into the barren land where Quartz soldiers were once made. Her lance, her greatest and only weapon on her right hand, the pink ribbon still intact since it was given by the blacksmith, but it's slowly losing its grip, hanging on to the handle with a thin line of hope.

As she reaches The Kindergarten, she formulates a plan that is simple, safe, but also informative to what the Crystal Gems need to know.

‘Ok, I'm just gonna sneak around and get some information like who are they, why are they here, what's their purpose, and get to know if it's a threat to the earth.’ She thought to herself. ‘No one needs to get hurt, no one needs to be poofed and no one needs to get shattered.’

A motto while she and the gems were in war, Rose always reminded the Crystal Gems that no one needs to get shattered, her explanation was simple, ‘Shattering isn’t right, even if they’re Homeworld gems, we’re better than them, we’re better than the diamonds, we’ll win this battle with our love for the planet, with our love for freedom, with our love of each other!’

Everytime before they all went out for battle, her brief speech always filled us with hope, even if it's a “No shattering” policy, it was her way and she stuck with it all the way.

But for now, Coral just needs to sneak around and avoid getting caught.

-

One of the yellow ships landed in the outer section of the kindergarten, Coral hid behind a wall and saw a team of peridots coming out of the ship in a single file and stood in the shape of a diamond. Another gem, a dark green figure was on the ship’s deck, giving out orders and commands.

‘-as I was saying, your mission for now is to re-familiarize yourself with the current kindergarten and report for any anomalies, as for team LJ504, you are to follow me and assist the ingenious one with the final stage of the project, tardiness and mistakes will not be entertained lightly. Now get to your stations!’ The commander ordered.

The peridots dispatched into groups and went to their stations. Fortunately for Coral, they all went into the kindergarten and didn’t notice her but they all disappeared in the confusing maze.

‘Hmmmmm….’ there wasn’t much difference between the 5 routes, so she just winged it and went into the first route.

As she walked down the path, she could spot a team of peridots in front, 5 in total, they were all holding an orb on their palms that scans the area with yellow-greenish light, going through the grounds and walls as the orbs showcased data and intel running through like overflowing tea.

The team made the scanning very thorough, they scanned every hole on the walls, every corner, every speck of sand, but with obvious efficiency, as two Peridots were up in the misshapen holes while the others were on the ground.

Amongst the peridots, one of them sighed, returned the orb into the gem on her cheek and questioned aloud, ‘Can anyone remind me WHY we’re back on this miserable planet? In the middle of creating a new weapon that could potentially change the solar systems??’

Coral noticed the peridots were about her height, maybe an inch taller than her, with slender builds and an outfit that looks like a box as the torse, she didn’t noticed it before but this group of peridots have the same skin tone, their inconsistent shapes of hair is the only feature that could be distinguished among them.

One of the peridots who was collecting data in a quartz hole responded, ‘1F9L, Cut-6G, what kind of inquiry is that? You know very well the purpose of returning back to Earth, instead of reactivating the kindergartens, we’re doing something that could be more of use to our Diamond.’

‘And what is that exactly?’ The peridot 1F9L retorted.

The peridot in the Quartz hole didn’t reply to that question. ‘Let’s just focus on finishing the task at hand, there are many more grounds to cover and so little time until the solar light source on this planet shuts down for 600 minutes, which would not be of use to us with our limited sight and energy.’

The team left further into the kindergarten, Coral tagged closer to the enemy group by following them wall by wall. The sun was rising, and the temperature was getting higher, Coral wasn’t dehydrated or anything, just tired from following around the peridots, they all stayed quiet after the first little argument, which doesn't make Coral’s job easier.

-

On the main ship, the ingenious one, was on her desk planning the celebration after the mission completes. She could see the Great Yellow Diamond giving praise and as a reward, to meet her other diamond, White diamond. The greatest diamond of all giving her attention to the gem that changed everything, and they’ll rule the galaxies together.

“Marvellous,’ she whispered the vision to herself, and made a laugh that sounds rather ambitious.

A Peridot was by her side, seeing that her Anglesite wasn’t focusing on the project, she decided to remind her, Again. ‘My Anglesite, it is well appreciated that you took initiative and plan for possible future events, but it would be more relevant to be finalising the current task at hand.’

Anglesite replied, ‘Oh peridot, how long have you been working for me? Aren’t you familiar with my style of work? The project is very much finished, it just needs to go through the final stage.’

‘And what stage is that My Anglesite?’ The peridot said.

Anglesite responded, ‘The testing, dear Peridot. Worry not, there will be a chance for it to show its power, just not now. Now is the time to revisit our other project, granted by our magnificent diamond. Peridot, how are the prototypes from our Diamond?’

The peridot retrieved an orb from her gem, the orb stayed afloat on the palm of her hand. She lightly tapped the orb and whispered a code, the orb dimmed it’s glow and there was a series of gem glyphs displayed. The display turned blank and projected a screen above the orb with multiple log dates and reports from the other peridots in charge of the cluster prototypes.

‘According to the files and reports by team LJ504,’ she stated, ‘The prototypes from Yellow Diamond are in their last stages of experiments, after the success of the shard combinations, they should be ready to be inserted into the experimental pillars in the underground alpha kindergarten, a few more hours until completion of the prototype subjects.’

The ingenious one exclaims, ‘Excellent! By this rate we can report to Yellow Diamond our success of the assignment AND present a project that can change the galaxies’

‘Yes, my Anglesite’ the peridot replied, and rolled her eyes without her manager’s notice.

(To clarify: In Yellow Diamond’s debut, she mentioned peridot’s manager, therefore having Anglesite made sense to me, or making it a head-canon.)

In front of Anglesite’s throne is a doorway, and above the doorway is a speaker, a voice buzzed in.

‘My Anglesite, you have a visitor, a commanding officer, who would like to see you. Shall I ring her in?’

‘Why absolutely! Send her in this very moment!’ She let go of the button to the speaker and turned to Eyeball peridot, ‘You see peridot, the chance to show it’s power is on it’s way’

-

It’s been a few hours, and Coral was not doing so well. There was a rock with the same tone of the sand, to which she didn’t notice as Coral almost tripped on it and made a little “Eeep!” Before covering her mouth, the peridot at the end made an abrupt halt, and Coral quickly tiptoed back and hid behind another wall, she summoned her lance and held it to her chest, waiting for something wrong to happen.

The peridot decided to not take mind of the little distraction and continued her work.

Coral noticed her turning back to the group and let out the biggest sigh.

‘Maybe I should take a break.’ she thought to herself. “Things are not going as planned…”

She left her hiding place and was about to look for a good place to rest, as she walked, she heard the tiniest buzz, ‘Huh, probably just a bee’

Turns out it's not a bee.

‘Phew!’ a laser was shot and ended up exploding the wall nearby, ‘Boom!’, barely missed Coral’s hair bun by just an inch!

‘Huh?’ She turned and saw the team of peridots, all aiming their fist as a different orb floats above their knuckles.

‘INTRUDER! GET HER!!’ The first peridot ordered!

‘Oh boyy-’ Coral dashed while defecting the blasts with her lance, running off with the homeworld gems on her tail.

As Coral ran, she tried to remember the route back, but she couldn’t recognize any paths, BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME!

She glanced behind her and noticed there’s only one gem on her tail, maybe they were left behind, or thinks of the chase as a waste of time. The peridot commanded, “Halt! In the name of Yellow Diamond!” She directed her fist at the pink gem and lasers proceeded being shot from the glowing beam above her knuckles.

Coral summoned her lance and deflected the lasers left and right, she backed up with the lance in a fencing stance, she and the peridot made stiff eye contact. The gems were on their way under a stone bridge with various rocks above. Coral took notice but didn’t take her eyes off the green gem.

The green gem tightens her fist, the orb intensifies, electric current can be seen as it glows bright, ready to aim and fire.

But Coral was faster as she threw the lance, not at the gem but at the stone bridge above her. The bridge crumbled from the force of the weapon and collapsed to the ground. The peridot took notice of the falling pile and leaped backwards, avoiding the rockpile of death, but the rocks formed a blockage between her and Coral, giving the crystal gem the chance to escape!

She took off into the maze once more.

-

A few moments before,

On the other end of the ship, another Peridot on the LJ504, was on her way to retrieve information about her superior. The water drop Peridot was walking in a brisker pace as the orders have been very clear, ‘Go get the series input from our commander, that’s the last step to complete the experiments, Hurry!’

The peridot reached to the end of the hallway, the doorway in front of her says “Commander’s office, enter at your own risk”

“This should be it,” she thought to herself.

Peridot focused on the gem on her chest, then proceeded by focusing on the door, but nothing happened.

“Huh,” She thought to herself. “Maybe it’s opened through passcodes?”

There were no door pads on either side of the door, so passcodes would not be required, but how does the door open without gem access nor passcodes to type in?

Chest Peridot was at all very puzzled and decided to call for the worker service.

On the other end of the call, someone picked up the communicator, “Technician service, how may I answer your inquiry?”

“Greetings, I am currently located at the doorway of commander Demantoid but there seems to be an access issue, I am unable to access entry through gem access nor passcodes, how does one gain access to the door?

‘Which sector are you in?’ The other end questioned.

‘Sector 14?’

‘Ah yes, I see the issue, just push the door inwards and you shall gain access. ’

‘Push…in what?’ The peridot was truly puzzled, what is this ancient method she speaks of?

The other end replied with little patience, ‘You wish to gain access into the office, do you not? Therefore, to access the office, you are to push the surface of the wall into the room. Your question has been answered, thank you for calling, and do not attempt to repeat the same question. BEEP-'

Yeesh, what’s a technician got to do around here to get some answers?

What if, she thought, I just blast the door open with the newly established blaster?

Yeah, that seems like a great idea.

She reached to her gem, possessed an orb, re-locate it on her knuckles, and prepared fire.

‘Ready…’ the laser blaster glows bright.

‘Steady…’ the orb electrifies.

‘And bl-’ Suddenly the door opened and she was rudely interrupted by the Commander

‘YOU! CEASE YOUR FOOLISH ACT AT ONCE!’ the commander barked so loud that the chest Peridot got startled and almost shot the laser right up her commander’s face.

‘Uhhm, o-of course my liege!’ She quickly reverses the sequence and restores it back into her gem in a rush.

The commander did not look pleased, ‘You have been lingering at my doorstep for more than 10 minutes, there better be a fine explanation of you trying to demolish my office doorway with your gem tech! Full name?!’

‘Oh uh, P-peridot, 1f5L, Cut-12G!’

‘aND WHAT, is your purpose of being here at this location?’ The gem demanded.

‘I… I am here to retrieve the series input for the experiment!’ she responded.

Yes she had a motive, but if she wasn’t stopped she could have caused a lot of damage. The commander knew she should report the foolish act somewhere, and she knew just who to tell.

‘Fine, but after inserting the series input, I want you to meet me at the head office.’ she commanded before handing the input.

-

After commander demantoid explained the scenario, she directed the ingenious one’s attention towards the incoming peridot.

Chest Peridot was brought in and accused of attempting public destruction by her commander.

The Anglesite considered this to be an opportunity, ‘Oh peridot, it seems that the new technician needs to be disciplined, be a dear and hand me the project that would change Homeworld forever.’

Eyeball peridot got a good look at the monitor while the situation was described by the commander, and while the peridot is relatively new at her post, the act is still unforgivable if it went through.

‘Of course my Anglesite’ She retrieved a weapon that looks like the alphabet Y, with a yellow glow between the two heads.

Demantoid recognized the weapon, and immediately questioned the fatality of the punishment.

She did a little cough to grab the attention of the yellow gem, ‘Uhm, My Anglesite, wouldn’t your chosen method of discipline be a bit too…extreme?’

‘For a peridot to do it?’ Anglesite reconsidered the weapon wielder instead of what the commander was intending, ‘Why yes, it does seem a bit dark for a peridot to do the job, why don’t you be a dear and do it yourself?’

Eyeball peridot handed the weapon to the commander, the commander shakily took hold and gripped it with regret. ‘I’ll never be hearing the end of this…’

The commander stood behind the oblivious Chest peridot, she raised the weapon, aimed, closed her eyes, and drove it into the back of her thigh.

Yellow electric currents sluggishly course through the back leg as the peridot screeched in pain, her voice went from being electrocuted to digitally spent as she buckled down on her knees, hands on the ground, and with one more second of pain and anguish, she poofed.

The gem stone dropped to the ground with loud clinks, staying in place.

Demantoid stood there, weapon still in hand, her face fell shocked as Anglesite applauded with heinous glee. “Bravo, a truly revolutionary weapon for all gem kind,” the peridot beside her took down notes of the weapon’s power, but fear can be seen from her shaky and tense scribbling.

‘Thank you for the wonderful opportunity dear, that would be all,’ The gem returned back into her work station, and Eyeball Peridot took charge from there.

She informed the commander, ‘Please return the gem destabilizer on the platform to your right, after that you can withdraw yourself back to your station.’ And with that, she took her fellow sister’s gem and went back to work.

The commander returned to her base, and wished she knew what was to come before inflicting the pain on that poor rookie peridot.

-

It’s been a few hours at best, but Coral couldn’t get the hand on the maze.

She tried retracing her steps, but that only led her to dead ends or other surprised technicians, pretty much half of the scanning team is tracking her down and she’s just getting nowhere in this confusing maze!

Maybe she should take a break, it’s been a while and there seems to be no technicians in sight.

She found a location with the most tranquility, well, as much peace and calm as the desert provides, and lied down for a quick break before someone found her.

‘Nyehhehehehe….’ she heard some weird form of laughter before she opened her eyes.

And surprise surprise, it was the Cheek peridot that whined and complained in the first encountered group, ‘Gotcha!’

She shot a small bubble but it enlarged into a much bigger size before it came to contact with Coral. The crystal gem wasn’t fast enough so she was finally apprehended and caught in a giant olive-green bubble.

The green gem exclaimed, ‘Finally! After wasting all our time trying to get you, I knew it was only a matter of time for you to venture into my most familiar territory! Do you honestly think you can outrun us in this maze of a kindergarten? We peridots have been scanning and mapping this place since its first batch of quartz injections, therefore we know literally every millimeter of this place.’

Coral wasn’t paying attention to the gloating, she was more focused on summoning her lance to pierce her way out but no avail. ‘Let me out of here!’

Cheek Peridot snickered, “Hah! Nice try! These here containment bubbles are invented by our leader herself, made with various high-tech and Hard Glass, therefore, it is… Impenetrable, especially from the inside, now….”

Coral stabbed and thrust the green bubble but still no use, she banged the bubble in frustration with her fists, the bubble returned the favour.

“OUch! What the?” She retrieved her hands as they got stuck together in green cuffs. The Peridot continued, “Oh! It seems that you got the “restraint mode”, it's pretty random, you can either get cuffed, mildly electrocuted, or even get stuck in it until the diamonds get their hands on you, you little…who are you anyway?”

‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’ Coral retorted, but with her hands cuffed there’s nothing else she can do.

The peridot took in a few glances of the gem, ‘Hmmm…’ she noticed the gem on her navy.

‘A pearl in a beta kindergarten? The files said there shouldn’t be any more gems on the planet since the diamonds wiped every gem on the planet’s surface. How did you survive?’ Cheek peridot narrowed her eyes, very much puzzled with the gem in capture.

Well, Coral thought, might as well try to get some intel.

‘You wanna know how w-, how I survived the blast?’ She wanted to intrigue the green gem and almost revealed the rest of the gems, ‘I can tell you, if you tell me your purpose of returning to this planet! What’s your plan huh? Reactivate the kindergartens? Resume the planet’s colonization? Whatever you’re doing, you won’t be winning with me around, so hah!’

‘Interesting,’ the peridot spoke aloud, ‘Your fast paced speech and intelligence of the planet’s history is well put, especially your level of confidence, it seems like I won’t be handling you after all, you should see our leader and tell her just that.’

‘What?’ Coral wanted to get any intel from the technician, but the green gem whispered something to the orb on her palm. ‘You’ll be sent off to our leader, I’ve informed the front liners, so they’ll be expecting you.’ She tapped the orb with her finger and the giant bubble glowed, gained afloat with Coral attained, and went full speed into the heart of the maze.

End of part 2

Extra notes: The peridots have no limb enhancers, because their gems were able to project and materialize weapons, like laser blasters, shields, and giant bubble-shape containers that can stop an object in its tracks. a containment bubble (like a force field), laser gun (tightens fist) and a scanner (open palm), can extract them and take hold of objects for a short amount of time

Eyeball Peridot (round afro), Chest Peridot (square), and Cheek Peridot(waterdrop).

Canon peridot: Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG

Cheek- 1F9L Cut-6G

Chest- 1F5L Cut-12G

Eyeball- 1F1L Cut-1G

How the Peridots were named, Headcanon:

Ok so since theyre all Era 1 peridots, theyre facet starts with 1F, like the first generations of Peridots.

then the Ls are like the batches, like for instance Eyeball peridot is one of the first batches of the emerged gems, and her Cut is 1G,which would indicate the earliest gem out of that batch

For canon peridot, she has an X between 5 and G, to which im gonna assume implies as "different/abnormal" from the first generation of Peridots.

(A/N: So thats part 2 of Chapter 5, as you can see the format of the story goes like, Plot A, Plot B, A, B and back to A.

Wanted the story to feel more structured and have it split into two story lines, so this is like the end product of the concept.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, i know reading an original story can be a bit, abnormal to reading Coral in Canon episodes, which I'll be getting to them in the future, but when there's an unresolved or unexplained issue, like how Bismuth went down and such, i like to envision what happens and write down possible scenarios.

So again, hope you enjoy this chapter of Pearlplusau, Chapter 5 part 2. The next part of the story should be the last of the chapter.

Thanks for reading and have a nice dayy. Byee)

[grasslandgirl]

oooo i sent it more as a fix prompt but also from one adhdhead to another i’m glad we agree!! thinking about sam and peter study dates

ahhhh fvbjsjvkbjf im so dumb i’m sorry i saw “adhd sam” and my brain just yelled YEAH. RADICAL. and that was it kjdvskfj 

that being said i’ve been haunted by ricky montgomery’s Line Without a Hook + eldonado since yesterday so........ hmmm.... (oh no this got wildly out of hand)

-----------

Peter threw himself wholeheartedly into anything he worked on. It was just how he was built. Peter was either on or he was off, and it was hard to get him to change course once he was en route. Head down, eyes narrowed, his whole body angled down at his computer like if he got his face close enough to the screen, it would start streaming information right to and from his brain. His hair would flop, unnoticed, into his eyes and he would shove his glasses so far up his nose that Sam would worry he was going to bruise his nose. 

All this to say, of course, that study dates were something of an occupational hazard when you were best friends with Peter Maldonado.

And also secretly in love with him.

Well, mostly-secretly. Secretly to Peter, and probably only Peter, because Sam was 90% sure everyone else was in on the secret and knew how hopelessly gone Sam was for his oblivious best friend. Gabi was the only one who ever said anything to him about it, though. So, little victories. 

Finals were looming over their heads like a dark storm cloud. Looming on the horizon, fucking with barometric pressure just enough to make everyone jumpy and nervous. Peter worked well under pressure- which was a good thing, because Sam knew Peter put more pressure on himself than anyone else did- but he would always show up the night before a big exam and demand that Sam help him study. It was so commonplace after seven years of friendship that Sam didn’t question it anymore. Mostly.

There was always that small, hopeful, and nervous voice in the back of his head asking why Peter always studied with Sam when he studied just as well on his own. The only answer he could think of was that Peter knew Sam studied better with him there. But that wasn’t- that couldn’t- Sam always shut that annoying little voice down before it spiraled any further.

It didn’t do anyone any good to overcomplicate things that were objectively very simple. Peter liked routine, they were best friends, Sam was the only one who could talk Peter down from an academics-induced panic attack at 2 in the morning the night before a final exam. 2 + 2 = 4. Simple math. 

Sam was slumped on his back, halfway falling off his bed with his head and shoulders draped over the side of his mattress. The notebook he was supposed to be reviewing was abandoned, sitting on his stomach. Peter was sitting at Sam’s desk, leaned over and scowling at his laptop. 

It was unfair, really, how pretty Peter looked illuminated by the blue-white light of his notes document. Sam had the perfect view of Peter’s upside down profile, all furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw and dark hair that’d had hands run through it too many times. It was late and Sam’s brain was wrung out and exhausted, only able to focus on Peter’s expression as he mouthed whatever obsolete moment in history he was trying to commit to memory, and the looping chorus of a Carly Rae Jepsen song he’d had stuck in his head for the last two hours. 

A big part of being friends with Peter Maldonado was knowing when to draw the line. 

“Pete, dude.” Peter looked up, blinking away the lines of notes Sam could almost see in his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Either we know it or we don’t at this point.”

“You think we should cut our losses?”

“I know you can survive on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, dude, but I can’t.” Sam tapped himself on the forehead. “This baby needs r&r or I can’t fucking function.”

“Right, right. What time is it?”

Sam sat up- an impressive showcase of his abs that Peter didn’t notice, of course- and dug around in his rumpled comforter for his phone. “12:30.”

Peter sighed heavily, tipping his head back against the headrest of Sam’s computer chair. “I should go home.”

“Dude. Just-” Sam was his own worst enemy sometimes- “just spend the night.”

“Yeah? Your moms won’t mind?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they assumed that’s what was happening when you showed up after dinner.”

It was probably just a weird reflection from the computer light on one of Sam’s posters onto Peter’s face. There was no way that Peter was blushing. 

“Anyway,” he continued, shoving his textbook and notes off of his bed instead of looking at Peter, “I’m gonna drive you tomorrow anyway, right? Saves me a trip.”

Peter closed his laptop with a soft click. “Yeah, sure, if it’s not-”

“It’s cool, dude, don’t be weird. Just two bros-”

“Chilling in a hot tub?”

Sam prayed Peter couldn’t see the hot blush he felt rising to his cheeks. Five feet apart cause they’re not gay. “Whatever you want, dude.”

Peter knew Sam was gay. He was the first person Sam had come out to- followed closely by Gabi and his moms. But there was a difference, Sam was sure, to having your best friend be gay versus having your best friend be gay and in love with you. An invisible line in the sand that would shift their relationship forever. Sam didn’t want to test how that shift would happen. Didn’t want to risk losing his best friend on the off chance that he wasn’t alone. 

“Right.” Peter repeated. 

They went to bed in pieces: Sam pulling on an old pair of sweatpants and throwing one to Peter, Peter neatly stacking all his notes on one corner of Sam’s desk, Sam kicking all his schoolwork to the edges of his bedroom floor as opposed to the middle of it, Peter brushing his teeth with the same toothbrush he’d kept in the Ecklund house since they were ten, Sam turning off all the lights, Peter wandering back into his bedroom, Peter’s hair turning to gold and ink in the faint streetlight coming in from the window, the two of them curling up back to back in Sam’s bed just like they always did.

And then it was dark and quiet and all Sam could hear was the faint sound of Peter’s breathing beside him. The warmth from Peter’s back mere inches from Sam’s. They’d fallen asleep next to each other a million times, but Sam still felt electric with the proximity. How easy it would be to just- stretch his legs out and wind his feet with Peter’s, to flip over and press his nose into the soft place where his hairline met the back of his neck, to whisper something hopeful and mortifying into the still night air and hear Peter’s breath catch in silent response.

Sam stayed still, held himself perfectly motionless lest he finally show his hand. And eventually, they both fell asleep.

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

Peter woke up surrounded by Sam. The pillow he’d pressed his face into smelled like Sam’s hair and the sheets on his bed were the same tacky Star Wars ones he’d been so proud of in the seventh grade and the bed was warm with Sam’s body next to him. For an instant, Peter let himself consider it: waking up next to Sam like this every day. Falling asleep with his arms wrapped around Sam and waking up with his head on his chest. 

He squeezed his eyes shut against the glaring dawn light, and against the daydream that quickly threatened to spin out of control. He could still hear Sam’s sleep heavy breathing behind him.

Slowly, Peter sat up in bed, pushing his hair out of his face and scrounging the nightstand as quietly as he could for his glasses. He allowed himself a single glance at Sam- sleep soft and sprawled out on the bed, his hand inches from where Peter’s shoulder had been, like he’d been reaching out in his sleep- before standing up and grabbing his phone from where he’d left it charging on the desk.

“Sam.” Peter poked his shoulder. “Sam.”

He groaned incoherently, but rolled over, which was a good sign. 

“You have to get up, dude.”

“Breakfast?” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah,” Peter laughed a little, “I’m sure your mom’s making breakfast.”

“Urrgghhh.”

Peter grabbed the clothes he’d left in the corner the night before and pulled an old t shirt out of Sam’s closet. “I’m stealing a shirt.”

“Oh,” Sam said, half sitting up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah- good, okay.”

“I’m gonna go-” Peter gestured weakly towards the door, and beyond it, the bathroom. Sam peered up at him, the light from the window hitting his face in a single pane, like something out of a sun-soaked French movie. Like this was the moment where one of them broke the uncertainty, the silence. Peter could see the scene unfolding in his mind’s eye, like he’d seen it a hundred times. He’d say something like, did you sleep well? And Sam would answer, better with you here, and Peter would oh-so-slowly close the distance and drop his jeans to the floor and Sam would arch up and meet him halfway and the camera would pan away, leaving them both washed in the golden early-morning light. “Bathroom. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Peter said, and closed the bedroom door behind him. 

He splashed water on his face and combed through his hair with his fingers, throwing on yesterday’s jeans and Sam’s t shirt under his sweatshirt and hoping it wasn’t obvious to anyone else how badly Peter wished every morning could be like this. 

He left the bathroom quickly and perched on the edge of Sam’s bed, scrolling through twitter while Sam did his hair in the bathroom. 

Breakfast was quiet and normal and filled with the usual mini-dramas in the Ecklund house. Kara didn’t want PB&J for lunch and one of Sam’s moms left the flat iron on in their bathroom and Leah almost burned the eggs and Sam spent half of breakfast finishing the math homework he’d almost forgotten he had. 

Sam drove them both to school early for the Morning Show, laughing and singing along to his “perfectly composed drive to school playlist,” and the rest of the day went on normally. He took his history test and saw Sam in math class and they sat with Ming and Randall and Phil at lunch. 

But all the while, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. He’d had... feelings for Sam for a while, unquantifiable and nebulous. He’d categorized them all: the way his stomach twisted when Sam smiled at him crookedly, the skipped beat of his heart when Sam slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, how his hands got clammy when he caught Sam watching him out of the corner of his eye, how he always found ways to hangout during and after school. But he’d never dared to name the feeling. Defining it meant- meant he should do something about it. Made it real. 

But that morning, waking up next to Sam, borrowing his t shirt to wear to school, falling asleep next to each other- they were all things they’d done a million times before. Peter’s chest ached with the normalcy, the domesticity of it. 

Peter’s fingers itched to try and piece it all together, his feelings and Sam’s and their history together. String it all together on a corkboard until it made sense. But Peter knew it wouldn’t work. Not without Sam there to see the bigger picture in the first place. It’s why they worked so well together; Peter would gather and organize all the information, but Sam was the one that knew how to put it together, knew how to see the forest from the trees in a way Peter never could on his own. Even if he tried to map out the snarl of feelings in his chest, Peter knew he’d be left with a labyrinth of post-its and red string without Sam there to untangle it for him.

Dramatic irony, he supposed.

Peter caught the bus home, Sam had something for theatre after school, and spent the entire ride with his music turned as high as it would go, trying not to think about Sam as he stared out the window. 

The problem, Peter realized, with being a self-professed movie lover, is that your brain starts to treat life like a movie. He could imagine a dozen different ways his life could spiral out from this moment, a dozen different movie time-lines he could find himself in. The tragedy, where he never tells Sam and lives his entire life in uncertainty. The drama, where he tells Sam and it tears their friendship apart. The tragic love story, where he and Sam are together and happy until they’re not. The comedy, where Sam laughs him off and they go back to their friendship with a tiny crack between them, spackled over with laughter that’s just a little strained. 

The romantic comedy, where everything goes perfect and they ride out into the sunset. 

Life wasn’t like the movies, though, nothing ever went as simple or as straightforward or as cinematic. There isn’t a director behind the camera who can call cut and change the scene halfway through. There aren’t any sweeping cinematic shots with atmospheric indie pop playing in the background.

It was just Peter, and Sam, and the creeping uncertainty hanging between them. 

Right before dinner that night, Peter got a text from Sam.

sam: thanks for the study help last night, felt good about the test today

sam: don’t stress i know youre freaking out about it too

sam: you did great on the test pete i know it

Peter blinked at his phone, at the unspoken I know you hidden inbetween the lines. Sam knew him better than anyone, knew his habits and his worries and his annoying little tendencies. And he was still there. 

And that, Peter realized, said more than anything else.

Love wasn’t a panoramic of a passionate kiss at sunset. It was knowing someone, learning them backwards and forwards, all the good and the bad pieces of them. It was staying, not despite everything, but because of it.

Peter loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

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

The doorbell rang at the end of dinner. Sam rushed to get to the door before his sisters- if he was lucky, it was their batty old neighbor Mrs Gorschtt and she would prattle on for fifteen minutes about her cat, shove a cake into Sam’s hands, and get him out of having to help clean the kitchen.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Mrs Gorschtt standing on the front porch, it was Peter. 

“Hey, dude, what’s up? We don’t have like a math test tomorrow I blanked on, do we?”

“Huh?” Peter blinked at him, “No, no.”

“So, what’s up?” Sam stepped out onto the porch beside Peter, closing the front door behind him. Maybe he could still get out of washing the dinner dishes. 

“Uh- so, the thing is-” Peter muttered, twisting one of the strings from his hoodie between his fingers. Sam’s stomach dropped; something was wrong. Peter was nervous, uncertain about something. He wasn’t looking Sam in the eye, and he had one arm wrapped around his stomach like a shield. His head started spinning with a million different things Peter could be upset about, but the thing Sam kept coming back to- he knew.

Somehow, Peter had finally figured him out. And he was coming to tell Sam- what? That they couldn’t be friends anymore? That Sam had made it weird? 

“Pete-” Sam started, trying to cover his bases, trying to fix this before his best friendship in the world went up in flames.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.” Peter interrupted, finally looking at Sam.

“What?”

“Pete. You’re the only one.”

“I- we’re friends, dude, I’m allowed to have nicknames.” Sam tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, even to his ears.

“I- I know,” Peter’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was staring at Sam like he was a page of history notes he was trying to memorize. “I got your text.”

“Oh, uh okay.”

“Sammy, I uh, I have to say something, and I want you to promise you’ll let me finish.”

Sam’s stomach dropped even further. Here it was. The end of everything. “Right,” he tried to smile at Peter, “sure dude, whatever you need.”

Peter nodded. “You’ve been my best friend since the fifth grade. You know all of my secrets, all the bad things that I don’t tell anyone else. You know that I don’t like orange-flavored things because I had too much orange-flavored medicine as a child and that I stay up too late studying the night before a test and I panic after I finish taking it. You watch movies I recommend, even though you think High School Musical 2 is the best movie ever made, you- god-” Peter scrubs his hands through his hair, clenching his eyes closed briefly- “this would be so much easier if I could just- you can see the big picture. Like with this you could just- take the words, the discrete pieces of data and put them together. Make it cohesive, coherent. I’m not making sense,” he muttered.

“Pete-”

“I don’t want to just spend the night after study dates.” Peter blurted out abruptly. His face froze, like he wasn’t sure what he just said, like he was terrified Sam was going to misunderstand. “I- I mean. I want to do real dates. With you. And spend the night and wear your clothes and have my hoodies smell like you and watch you spin around in the morning show chairs without having to worry about you catching me and I want to see you without gel in your hair and I want to lean against you when we have movie nights and-”

“Pete.”

“Sammy,” Peter said, kind of breathless. “Go on a date with me.”

“Like a study date?” Sam said, also kind of breathless.

“Like a date-date. Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, just- come here-” and then Sam’s hands were on either side of Peter’s face and his fingers were in his hair and Peter’s hands were caught in Sam’s sweater and then-

Peter kissed like he didn’t know all the answers, for once, and he was okay with it. Peter kissed like he was memorizing everything about the moment. Peter kissed like he was planning on replaying it like an old video tape, over and over until the tape wore thin and tore. Peter kissed like he could hear the orchestra playing behind them, like they were in some cheesy made for tv rom com and were about to get their happy ending.

Peter kissed like Sam was his happy ending.

Finally, they broke apart- more to catch their breath than anything else. 

“Hell of a study date,” Sam breathed, unable to stop smiling.

“Shut up.” Peter was smiling, too.

And, leaning back in, Sam did.

[blazinbeautywrites]

Band Wars: Rise of the Phoenix

Note: Due to the rampant uprising of plagiarism on this site and others I am stating once and once only that this is my ORIGINAL work. If I find out that you have stolen/taken any part of my work I will handle you and the situation the way I see fit.

None of the pics or gifs I use belong to me so full credit goes to the originators of said gifs and pics.

Length: 2,356 words

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this out guys. I was not happy with the final results and when I was I still was unsure so I rewrote it again and decided to just post it. I’ll let yall be the judge lol.

Genre: Honestly idk lmao

Chapter 1

 Universal Music Group (UMG) decides to debut a new girl group, PHOENIX on their first ever reality show “Next Big Thing.” The winners of the show get a 5 year, 5 album recording contract and will tour with CNCO 1 year after they debut. The winner of the show was Zania Reye Bloom, followed by London Monroe Jones, Jolene Maria Sanchez, Siane Rei Choi, and Avery Lynn O'Reilly. The band is composed of 5 talented women with different ethnic backgrounds, ages 24-25. 

Since the show served as the girl’s training they were immediately thrusted into the spotlight after the show ended. They went to work on their debut album and as the release date approached the girls were getting antsy. Now only were they about to release their baby onto the world, but they were finally meeting CNCO today and discussing ideas for their tour.

*UMG headquarters in LA*

“Yoooo I’m fucking excited! Can yall believe our debut album is coming out in a couple days?” London said as she led a couple of her members to the elevators.

“Girl this tour bout to be lit as fuck. Bruuuh we’re going to fucking Sweden. I didn’t even think we had fans out there.” Zania said.

“Yeah you can thank that girl Astrid who made the finals. She was Swedish.” Avery said.

The girls finally heard the elevator ding at their floor and immediately got out. The girls walked into a meeting room where they saw their other 2 members Jolene and Siane bonding with the boys of CNCO.

“Finally you bitches show up. What took yall so long?” Siane asked.

“Avery thinks she’s still in Ireland and almost drove us into a damn ditch.” Zania said.

“You’re alive aren’t you? So quit complaining.” Avery said as she took a seat opposite Erick.

“Anyways if yall are done….THIS is CNCO ladies. This is Zabdiel, Christopher, Erick, Joel, and this is Richard.” Siane said as she pointed to each boy as she introduced them. Richard definitely caught Zania’s eye and she quickly averted her eyes so he wouldn’t catch her ogling him. Little did she know, he was checking her out too.

“And I’m Zania, and of course yall met Jolene and Siane. This is London and Avery.” She said as she gestured to her other bandmates. She was about to say something else when a tall, slender woman walked into the room followed by a man wearing the loudest shade of yellow and another woman dressed in all black.

“Okay let’s make this short and sweet. I’m Veronica Pierce, you can call me Vee or Ms. Pierce, never Veronica. Get it? Got it? Good. I am your tour  creative director. I’ll be working closely with you all to design your tour. And please, let’s all collectively agree on a specific concept. I will not have my people designing 2 separate stages. To my left is Chez Moa, your set designer. And to my right is Mel Carter she and her team will be styling you all so meet with her some time this week so she can get an idea of what you guys want and need. And ladies you have a busy weekend ahead. Friday you have your album release, press runs, then your album release party later that night. Saturday you’ll be on Good Day LA where you’ll be interviewed and then perform your lead single. Sunday you have a mini showcase where yall will perform some fan fave covers from the show and a few songs from the album, including your single with CNCO. You’ll have tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday to learn choreo for both performances. You’ll meet your choreographer tomorrow. Any questions?” 

The whole room was silent as both groups stared at Veronica and her associates. Zania raised her hand and the other members of Phoenix sighed. They knew how this shit was about to play out.

“So do we get to breathe? Or do we have to pencil that in too?” Zania asked. She knew she was being an asshole but this shit was ridiculous.

“Hmmmm you must be Zania Bloom. They told me you had a mouth on you. Listen up sweetie this my show. I call the shots and if they bother you, you can leave.” Veronica said. Zania smirked at her and leaned back in her chair.

“Nah I’m good. You may continue, Ms. Pierce.” Zana said. Sarcasm dripping from her words.

“Anyways that’s all for now. And remember this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. It can be taken away in the blink of an eye so watch yourselves.” Veronica spoke. She eyed the room but everyone knew exactly who that was meant for. She, Mel, and Chez exited the room in silence. Once they left, Siane burst out laughing.

“Yo I was clenching my fucking ass cheeks. She’s soo fucking hot.” Siane said.

“Keep it in your pants Siane. And Zania, girl why did you do that? You made that shit more intense than it needed to be.” London asked.

“You know me, I just had to say something. She was a bitch to us when we did the show, now they’re making her the tour director, wtf?” Zania said.

“Am I the only one who noticed that guy had on too much yellow?” Chris said. Everyone turned to him and started laughing.

“Look, I ain’t wanna say anything but he was so wrong for that. And it was a complete contrast to Mel who had on all black.” Jolene said.

“But real shit Vee ain’t no joke, she can make or break you. So just be careful.” Richard said. He made eye contact with Zania and she smiled at him.

“Oh I’m not afraid of her. She’s on a power trip so I’ll entertain her mess for the sake of this tour. You don’t have to worry bout me baby boy.” Zania said. Everyone got up to leave but on her way to the door she was stopped by Richard.

“I don’t know if you realized but I’m a grown ass man so that baby boy shit not gon fly with me.” Richard said. Zania was amused.

“Oh did I bruise your whittle ego babe? Look it’s not that serious-”

“But it is that serious so treat me with respect or keep it moving baby girl.” Richard said as he cut her off. He walked away leaving Zania stunned in silence. She walked back to her group and chuckled.

“Yall…...that guy Richard just lowkey put me in my fucking place. Oh this tour is gonna be so damn fun.” Zania said. She and her bandmates went to find their stylists to get started on designing their perfect tour outfits.

                                             ______________

It had been a full 5 hours and the girls were hard at work on their choreo. They were thankful that most of the songs they performed were their covers from their reality show so the moves were ingrained in their heads. They breezed through their choreo for their own singles and just finished running through them a final time before Laurieann Gibson called for lunch. The girls were beyond starved and as they walked to the cafe area of the upscale dance studio they saw CNCO walk through the door.

“Oop the boys are here.” Jolene said as she fixed her slightly messy hair. She made eye contact with Zabdiel as he and the other boys walked into the dance studio they’s just left.

“Ooooohhh do I sense a little crush? London teased.

“See that tall one, Zabdiel? I promise you, I will climb him like a fucking tree.” Jolene said, much to the amusement of her group. 

“Woah. Down girl, we have a whole ass tour to get through.” Avery said.

“Look if I can’t fuck Vee, you can’t fuck Zabdiel.” Siane argued.

“Girl. Zabdiel is fair game, Vee is our fucking boss. There’s a difference.” Zania said as the girls found a table near the back of the cafe. Avery went to order them some food and soon a waiter came back with a tray of fruit, some finger sandwiches, and a basket of the cafe’s homemade potato chips.

“This looks so good and I’m starving.” London said. As the girls ate they discussed the difficult choreo.

“I really thought Laureiann was gonna throw her shoe or some shit at you cuz you couldn’t get that one move down.” Siane said.

“I wish she would throw some shit at me.” Jolene said while the others laughed at her.

“What kind of shit yall think they’ll have us do with the boys?” London asked.

“Probably something sexy, ya kno to pander to the fans.” Avery answered.

“I heard that they’re partnering us up with them for the collab so whomever we pick is our dance partner for the song.” Siane added.

“Well. this should be fun.” Zania said. The girls chat a little bit longer before cleaning up and heading back into the dance studio. When they arrived they heard their song with CNCO playing. Laurieann was teaching them their choreo and once saw the girls she turned the music off and immediately began assigning pairs.

“Okay London you’re with Joel, Jolene with Eric, Zabdiel and Siane, Avery and Chris are partners and lastly, Zania, you’re with Richard. Everyone please stand with your partner. I’m only gonna do the dance two times and then you’re gonna do it and we’ll fine tune everything afterwards” Lauriann said as she read off her list. Before the girls could even process anything they quickly got into formation to do the choreo.

                                            ______________

A few hours later, both Phoenix and CNCO were spread out on the floor, exasperated. Lauriann told them to rest up and that she’d see them in the morning before she left them all a sweaty mess in the studio.

“I swear there are parts of me that are sweating I ain’t know could sweat.” Siane said as she attempted to lift her head to no avail.

“Girl I feel like my fucking feet are gonna fall off.” Zania said.

“I can’t feel my left asss cheek.” Jolene mumbled.

“Bruh at least yall voices aren’t hoarse as fuck.” Richard said.

“We should probably start heading out because I need an ice bath or some shit.” Avery said as she willed her body to move. Everyone followed suit and struggled getting to their feet. When the girls began packing up to leave, Zabdiel strolled on over to pull Jolene to the side. Zania looked on and smirked to herself. All she hoped was that whatever they had going on didn’t get in the way of her group’s path to success. She snapped out of her little daze just as Jolene made it back.

“Well, what was that about?” Zania asked.

“Girl he asked for my number. I was like no and he said can you really say no to this face. I almost fucking melted so I gave him my number. He’s so fucking cocky. I love it.” Jolene beamed. Zania could tell her friend was happy so she chose to keep her mouth shut. The girls finally made it to the elevator when Zania realized she’d left her phone in the dance studio.

“Shut yall I left my phone. Yall go on I’ll text yall once I get home.” Zania said.

“Girl we’ll wait, just hurry up.” London said. Zania jogged back to the building and ran up the stairs to be quicker. Once she got to the door of the studio she heard the boys talking.

“I really like that girl London. She’s classy, yet has a sexy side. I like that.” Joel said.

“Now see Jolene….them lips. I bet her head game on point.” Zabdiel said.

“Ew bro what the hell!” Eric exclaimed.

“I know you of all people are not talking.” Richard said.

“Even though I think she’s kind of a bitch, Zania fine as fuck too.” Christopher said.

“Yeah she is fine. Yall seen that ass? I’d love to get behind that.” Richard said. Zania had heard enough and walked into the room.

“Yall should really make sure that the door is completely closed before you talk about us. Anyways I left my phone and just came back to get it. Oh and Richard, Zabdiel? I understand that Jolene and I are attractive but please don’t talk about us like we’re pieces of meat mkay?” With that she grabbed her phone and walked out, leaving the boys a little dumbfounded. Once she got back outside she filled her girls on what she heard.

“You know. We should teach them a lesson.” Jolene said.

“Oop I sense an infamous Jolene Sanchez prank.” Siane said.

“Yep. Okay so here’s the plan.” Jolene explains the little prank they’ll play on the boys at the showcase. They’d messed with the wrong girls.

                                            _____________

The rest of the week went by in a blur and before they knew it, their album release day was finally here. It’d only been a few hours and their album was already number 1 on a few of the urban and pop album charts. Siane screenshot the Billboard charts where their album was number 1 and sent it to their group chat. She then called them all on a video chat.

“WAKE UP BITCHES! WE NUMBER 1 BABYYYYYY!!!!1!” She yelled into the phone. The others, as groggy as they were, laughed at how hyped their member was.

“Girl you are so lucky I was up getting ready or I’d curse you the fuck out.” Zania said. 

“Bitch whatever. Anyways I love yall so much! We’ve officially ARRIVED! Like we in the fucking building forreal now. WHEW! Let me start getting my shit together. See yall soon. Love ya! Siane said as she hung up the video call. The girls were buzzing and couldn’t be any happier that after almost 6 months, their hard work has finally paid off and that their fans love their album as much as they do. They couldn’t wait to see what lie ahead for them. They knew whatever it was, it was gonna be big.