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ptergwen · 4 years

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truth serum

a/n: ok ok ok i've had to post this four times now because it won’t show up in tags for some reason? i’m so :/ tumblr pls stop setting me up bruh. but moving on here’s a summary of the original request and i hope ya like

warnings: little bit of cursing here and there

when tom asked if you‘d be interested in going to a comic con with him, there was only one answer: yes. you‘ll take every chance you get to see him in his element. you’re looking forward to checking out some of the cool exhibits they’ll have — and people. comic con is a safe space for all your nerdiness. so really, both of you will be in your element that day.

the only thing you’re uneasy about is tom’s fans. you have no idea how they’ll react to seeing you by his side for hours on end. paparazzi caught you together once or twice, but you couldn’t tell much from their blurry pictures. that didn’t stop everyone from talking.

you’ve been named his new “mystery girl,” and tom still hasn’t adressed the whole situation. no matter how much he loves his fans, he’s not willing to spill every single detail of his personal life. spending time with his girlfriend doesn’t need some big explanation to please the public.

this is the first time you know for sure that you’ll be seen with him. comic cons are huge, and somebody always has their phone out at these things. you don’t want the fans to end up hating you for being there, or tom for bringing you. the way he sees it, they should just be happy he’s happy. anyone who isn’t never truly cared in the first place.

tom usually arrives early to go over his schedule and any last minute details. this time, he’s sleeping in a few hours extra with you. no one knows better than him that all day events can be draining. he wants you well rested and feeling good for it. since people are already at the venue, you’re using a different entrance to avoid getting mobbed.

“stay close, okay? i’m not sure what it’s like in there yet. might be a few people by the door, or a crowd.” you’re walking hand in hand with tom through the back lot. he feels you tense up next to him at the mention of a crowd. they overwhelm the hell out of you, and you’re suddenly feeling way underprepared for this.

“but we’re going in through the back. how are they gonna know that?” you grip his hand tighter without realizing. tom half smirks at your question and leads you over to the door. “my fans figure everything out... almost everything. you ready?”

shrugging your shoulders, you lean into his side for comfort. “sort of. i’m just getting nervous about being around so many people.” “i know, baby. not gonna lie, it’s pretty scary at first. but i’ll be with you the whole time.” he presses a quick kiss to the side of your head. you do feel better knowing he won’t leave you alone when you get inside.

“just try turning your nerves into excitement. it works for me every time. “i’ll do my best. i guess we can go in for real now.” tom’s thumb brushes over yours reassuringly, looking at you once more for any signs of doubt before he opens the door.

only a couple of fans notice tom is there, so it’s not as hectic as you thought it would be. he waves to them and says hi, a smile lighting up his face. you chew your lip nervously and let him take you to where he needs to be. obviously, you get a few stares. some pointing, some whispering. they’re all things that come with being pressed into tom holland in front of thousands of people.

tom brings you over to the check in area and gives both of your names. a woman with a headset on hands him two ID cards. he thanks her before pulling you aside so you two can have a moment of privacy.

“how is it so far? feeling okay?” his voice is soft unlike the yelling around you, which is nice. tom slips the lanyard with the ID over your head. “i’m getting used to it. i don’t know how you do this almost every day,” you admit, tugging on his own lanyard that he’s holding. he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“i’ll tell you what, it’s a lot easier when you’re with me,” he mumbles into your ear, using that as a way to subtly leave a kiss to the skin. the little things like that are what will keep you together throughout the day.

a man with a headset and planner comes up to tom. why are so many people wearing headsets? he reads off tom’s plans for today, then ushers the two of you over to do meet and greets once tom has everything down. tom already called and explained that you’d be joining him, so he had it arranged for you to sit with the photographer and watch.

that’s definitely going to get people curious. he doesn’t mind too much, as long as it makes the experience more comfortable for you.

“i’ll be right over here. you’ll tell me if you need anything, yeah?” tom gazes out at the long line of fans waiting to see him, meeting your eyes after. “don’t worry about me. go give your fans some hugs.” you squeeze his hand and smile to let him know you’re okay. he smiles back even bigger before going over to greet the first person they send over.

this set up is way better than what you’d expected. you get a front row seat watching tom do silly faces and poses, and he can check in with you from time to time. there’s the occasional “who is that?” or “is it true that you’re dating her?” question from someone nosy.

tom responds with something along the lines of “that’s y/n. she’s a really lovely girl. she’s super awesome,” followed by a wink only for you to see. you find yourself having to hide your blushing face from all of his antics.

after about two hours, tom gets a break from photo ops. he decides to use the time to do whatever you choose, since you’ve been watching him for a while. you just walk around until there’s an announcement that a hypnotist show is about to start, and anyone can attend. you’ve never seen people be hypnotized in person, and it sounds like it could be fun.

tom lets you pick the seats. you end up towards the front for a closer look. his hand rests on your thigh as soon as you’re both seated, missing being able to touch you all day. you lace your fingers with his and watch as the show starts.

you’re both having a good time, laughing along at all the different segments. the guy hosting it is really entertaining. “now, let’s move onto a part of the show i like to call ‘truth serum.’ it’s simple. i’ll choose a member from the audience and get them to spill their guts for all of you, about anything i ask. who shall it be?” he rubs his chin and looks around the room.

he makes eye contact with people around you. you’re regretting getting seats in the third row. you pray he won’t call you up, but that would be too convenient. “ah!” he claps his hands together, gesturing to you. your mouth runs dry. “thanks for volunteering, come on up!”

you look at tom, silently asking if you should. “go on. i kind of wanna see this,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you devilishly. clenching your jaw, you walk past him and onto the stage. the hypnotist taps a chair for you to sit. you just had to be the lucky person he chose. “can we get a round of applause for...” he holds his microphone down to you.

“y/n,” you say into it, your voice coming out shaky. there are at least two hundred people staring up at you right now. “y/n!” he repeats. “everyone put your hands together for this brave soul.” the audience claps, tom cheering the loudest among them all.

“so, y/n. you seem excited to be up here,” the man jokes. tom watches with amusement as you give an unsure smile at the audience. “is it that obvious?” you get a few laughs. maybe this won’t be the train wreck you’re anticipating.

“extremely. y/n, i want you to look at your right hand for me.” he takes a step back, you doing as he says. “focus on your fingers and how they’re curling towards you. keep focusing. notice how you’re feeling more and more relaxed.”

everything he’s saying is actually happening. wanting to remember this, tom takes out his phone and starts recording. “bring your hand over to your forehead. let yourself feel the skin to skin contact. just like that.” you’re starting to feel sleepier. “and close your eyes.” the hypnotist snaps, and there’s silence throughout the auditorium. “you’re in a deep sleep. well done.”

you’re completely passed out with your head hanging low. everyone claps again, gasping and chatting to each other. tom is one of the gaspers. “y/n, you just guzzled a whole can of truth serum. you’re an open book. you love to share. when i snap again, you’ll wake up and answer whatever i ask you. truthfully,” the hypnotist tells you.

he waits a moment, then snaps his fingers. your head immediately snaps up. more gasps. tom puts his hand over his mouth, muffling his laughter at whatever you’re about to say.

“good morning, y/n. how are you doing?” “stiff. my neck hurts a lot for some reason,” you answer honestly, rubbing the back of it. the hypnotist has a smug grin on his face. “very good. we’re going to start off with some basic questions to see where you’re at. they mirror the five senses. y/n, what’s your favorite thing to hear?”

“my boyfriend’s voice. oh my god, and he has the cutest hiccup laugh,” you clasp your hands under your chin. tom is glad his phone is hiding his face so no one can see his cheeks turning pink. “hiccup laugh?” the hypnotist makes a face. “it gets stuck in his throat sometimes. it’s actually so cute.”

“what about your favorite smell?” “oh, that’s an easy one. sandalwood.” you casually reveal to the audience. “tell us why you like sandalwood so much, y/n,” the hypnotist prompts you. “it’s the scent of shampoo my boyfriend uses.” tom practically melts when he catches on. all your favorite things so far are related to him.

“i think we should skip ahead and talk about that boyfriend of yours. you seem to really love him, huh?” “more than anything. if you were planning to ask about anything else that’s my favorite, i’d say him.” there’s a big “awwww” from the whole audience, tom included.

“isn’t that sweet? where is your boyfriend right now, y/n? i’m sure he’d want to hear this.” “he just did, he’s in the audience.” you tell the hypnotist as if he should already know. tom’s lovestruck smile fades away. he hopes the hypnotist realizes it’s too personal to make you keep talking about something like this.

you have no control over what you’re saying, and it’s not going to end well. “why don’t you point him out for us so we can give him a big round of applause?” scanning around for tom with bright eyes, you get out of your seat. you point at him. “he’s right there.”

the whole audience turns to look at who you’re pointing to. tom lowers his phone, his mouth open in shock. everyone starts shouting as soon as they notice it’s tom. you’re confused over what the big deal is, since you’re still not fully yourself. the hypnotist realizes the mess he just caused, quickly sitting you down again to bring you out of it.

“y/n, i’m going to snap again. when you wake up this time, all the truth serum will be out of your system,” he says just to you over the noise, tom sinking down in his seat to avoid questions. the man snaps his fingers. there’s silence like the first time, everyone waiting to see what you’ll say.

you have no memory of anything that happened a few seconds ago. all the eyes on you are freaking you out. “wh- what did i say?” you ask him, biting down hard on your lip. his eyes dart over to tom. he speaks to you without the microphone. “you told the audience about your boyfriend.” it takes a second for you to register what he said. then you see tom down low in his chair, and you’re humiliated.

for yourself, but mostly him. you can’t believe you exposed your relationship in front of all these people. you run off the stage and out of the auditoruim, too embarrassed to say anything else. tom doesn’t hesitate to chase after you.

you’re breathing hard and fast, stopping somewhere there aren’t too many people around. your mind is racing while you try to figure out what’s going to happen next. someone puts a hand on your shoulder. it’s tom. he turns you around to face him.

“fuck, i- i’m so sorry. i don’t know what was going through my head, i shouldn’t have talked about any of that stuff. this is gonna be a nightmare for you,” you spit out all at once. tom only pulls you to his chest. he rubs circles around your back, trying to calm you down.

“it’s not your fault, angel. you didn’t have a choice about saying those things. you know that, right?” huffing, you hide your face in tom’s chest. “but still. i exposed us and i exposed you and now everyone knows something you didn’t want them to. you should hate me right now.” his lips press into a deep frown at what you’re saying. he rests his chin on your head and sighs.

“baby, i’m not mad. the only reason i wanted us to be a secret was for you.” you look up at him hesitantly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “so i didn’t destroy your whole career in two seconds?” “of course not. there have been way worse things i’ve had to deal with than publicly dating my really lovely, super awesome girlfriend. this won’t be easy, but i promise we’ll get through it together.”

you cheer up a bit hearing him repeat his words from earlier, nodding as you let yourself process everything.

“do you think anyone got me on video? or will they just post about what i said and everyone will believe them?” “i personally recorded the whole thing. not sure about the rest of the audience though,” tom proudly admits to you, making you groan into his chest. “great. that means we should probably say something before the twisted versions of the story come out,” you reason.

he considers it for a moment, and you can see when a lightbulb go off in his head. “what if i officially introduce you to some fans at my next round of photo ops? tell them about us, see how it goes. then we can decide what our next move is.”

it’s a huge relief that he’s taking this slow and giving you a say on how to go public. feeling brave, you peck his lips as a thank you. he’s surprised at first, but kisses back. he can finally see why those annoying pda couples exist. his arm takes its place around your shoulders again, yours going around his waist this time.

“let’s go share our not so secret relationship with the world.”

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nayutai · 4 years

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Bad Boy Bakery

↠ Pairing Yeosang x Female OC

↠ Genre fluffy dirty angst

↠ Word Count 11.806

↠ Warnings infidelity (kinda sorta), mutual pining, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), foul language, crude jokes, fingering, tattooed yeosang, mentions of criminal activity

↠ Summary Yeosang has a storied past and most of it is documented at the local police station. That’s the past though. These days he’s too busy running a semi-successful bakery with his best friends. After securing an order for the engagement party of well-known socialite Ivy Maxwell, he thinks his business might finally be taking off. He may have bitten off more than he could chew though.

It’s decided. Yeosang is going back to jail. Why he thought hiring the seven other misfits he used to run with to work in his bakery was a good idea he’ll never know. Bad Boy Bakery was supposed to be his way to get his life back on the right track and all these heathens do is test him every single day. He does a quick mental calculation of how much money is stashed around his house and he’s positive he’s got enough to post bail for a simple assault charge, but then again they might try to make an example of him considering his impressive arrest record. With the way he’s being tested at this moment though, he’s willing to spend every penny if it means he gets to beat Mingi into oblivion.

“Mingi, I swear to God if you fuck up another batch of egg whites I’m going to shove that whisk in your ear and beat your brains.” He glares at the clumsy giant vigorously whisking a bowl full of egg whites that already look like they’re begging for mercy. They have to have a full dessert spread ready for an engagement party that’s taking place in less than six hours and Mingi has ruined more eggs than Yeosang is even comfortable counting.

“Man, shut up. I did three years upstate. My arms are too damn strong for this which is exactly why I told your dumb ass to do it.” Everybody groans out loud at having to hear that exact phrase for what has to be the millionth time.

“That was over a year ago and you haven’t lifted anything heavier than a bag of flour ever since. Give it a rest.” Wooyoung garners a round of hearty laughter at his dig, looking quite pleased with himself at successfully bashing his friend.

“I make up for it by jacking off five times a day instead of four now so my point still stands.”

“I hope you wash your hands just as much.” The group of tattooed bakers loudly express their disgust when Mingi gives them nothing but a devious grin in response. Mingi, on the other hand, is phased by neither his friends’ disgust not Yeosang’s bristling anger as he dumps his third attempt at the egg whites into the garbage. So much for third time’s the charm.

Yep, Yeosang is going back to jail.

Ivy is resigned as she carefully sweeps her brush across both of her cheekbones. The glittery gold of the highlight powder left in its wake perfectly complements the rich sepia tone of her skin. She’s just as precise in the application of her lipstick. Slowly, but surely, painting her lips a deep purple. She sighs as she gives herself a final once over in her vanity mirror. The inky black curls that normally adorn her head like a crown have been forced into straightened submission indicative of her mother’s urge to impress the crowd of people that Ivy can already hear beginning to gather downstairs. Her left hands feels uncomfortably heavy as it has ever since this nightmare first began.

As if sensing her procrastination, Ivy’s mother Yvette comes striding into her daughter’s bedroom. It’s easy to tell how much she’s enjoying playing her mother of the bride role. She hasn’t stopped smiling since Ivy’s engagement to her long-time “boyfriend” was officially announced last month. Needless to say, she’s the only one finding any joy in this situation.

“Ivy, sweetie, hurry up and come downstairs. Everyone is waiting to see you.”

“Yeah, right.” Ivy scoffs in response. “They just want to see this.” Yvette frowns at the way Ivy glares in disdain at the stunning ring adorning her finger.

“Ivy Elaine Peters, you better get it to together right now. Keeping this family business afloat requires sacrifice and its your turn now stop moping and get your narrow ass downstairs.” Her mother disappears back out the door before Ivy can get in a word of her own. Not that it would have mattered. Her fate has been sealed for the past twenty four years.

She slips her feet into the black patent leather pumps still sitting pretty in the box on her canopy bed. The red soled beauties are sure to provide more status than comfort, but such is life. Ivy gives herself one final pep talk, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her slip dress. She looks more like a fashionable mourner than a blushing bride but this is her silent protest. She’ll make her damn sacrifice but she’ll dig her heels in wherever she can.

Ivy quickly spots her fiancee Seokjin cracking jokes with a few of her cousins near the front door. He beams at her when he catches her eye across the room, breaking away to come greet her. Not for the first time, Ivy wonders why she couldn’t just fall in love with him to make this whole process easier. Their families have known each other longer than they’ve both been alive so they grew up as best friends. Plus, Seokjin is genuinely a great guy. He’s charismatic, kind, and attractive to the point of unfairness. She has no doubt that he’d make a fantastic husband for someone. She just wishes that she wasn’t that someone. The only positive is that Seokjin feels the exact same way. He loves Ivy to pieces in the most platonic way possible. She’s quite possibly the last person he would ever consider marrying, but business is business and this is a merger that must be made.

“You look absolutely stunning, Vee.” She smiles gratefully at his compliment as he bends slightly to kiss her on the cheek. A camera flashes somewhere off to her right so she makes sure to play her happiness up for the photographer. With the combined notoriety of their families, any pictures taken tonight are sure to be all over the local and regional news outlets by morning.

“I could say the same about you, Jinnie.” The tips of his ears turn red as they always do whenever anyone compliments him. Ivy giggles playfully when he ducks the hand reaching up to tweak on of them like she always does, choosing instead to square up like he’s ready for a fight. Oh, Jin, ever the entertainer. The numerous peals of laughter that erupt around the couple as they take turns jabbing at each other like children tells her that their antics are paying off.

The two imposters spend the night putting on one hell of a show. Anyone would be hard pressed to find someone that didn’t think they’re madly in love with one another. Their parents couldn’t be more ecstatic about this outcome if they tried.

Everyone is seated at the lavishly decorated tables set up in the backyard as an army of waiters replaces empty entree plates with various cakes and tarts that look almost too delectable to eat. The cheesecake placed in front of Ivy looks nearly too beautiful to eat. Topped with fresh berries and drizzled in what smells like some sort of hazelnut sauce. She wishes she hadn’t left her cellphone upstairs so that she could take a quick picture of it for her instagram. When she finally gets over her reluctance, she take a small bite. A borderline pornographic moan escapes her lips, catching Jin way off guard.

“What the hell wa-” Ivy cuts him off by shoving a forkful of the cheesecake into his open mouth. He groans in pleased delight, attempting to go in with his own fork for another bite, but she quickly slaps his hand away.

“Let me taste yours. Bite for a bite.” She pretends not to notice him sneaking another bite of her cheesecake while she tastes the chocolate tart in front of him. A hint of red chili lends a kick that perfectly rounds out the sweetness of the chocolate and the fresh whipped cream the dessert is topped in.

“I don’t know what bakery they used but we need to get them to do the cake for the wedding.” Jin declares as he practically inhales the chocolate tart. He signals the waiter to bring them two more for them to try while Ivy hums in agreement at his side. She makes a mental note to ask her mother who was hired to do the desserts tomorrow as she happily digs into the coconut cream cake being set in front of her.

Yeosang stares in awe at the payment he’s just received for the engagement party they’d done three days ago. His bakery has been faring better than most businesses do in their first year but the deposit currently pending with the bank is going to go a long way in making sure it stays that way. They had even sent two grand more than the $1,800 that the contract had stipulated. Yeosang had called immediately to make sure it wasn’t an accounting error because the last thing he wants is to be accused of stealing, but he’d been informed by the woman who had arranged the deal that her employers had been so satisfied with the food they wanted to “tip” him. Rich people are different.

He leaves his small office to clean up a little while it’s slow. He had let everyone else go early since there were no big orders to work on and Tuesdays are notorious dead zones. The bell above the door tinkles lightly as he cleans some wayward chocolate curls out of one of the display cases, cursing to himself because he’d told Seonghwa that he put too many but of course no one listens to him. Doesn’t matter that he signs those lazy bastards’ pay checks every week.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The young woman before him fidgets with the tie on her wrap dress inadvertently drawing Yesoang’s gaze to the womanly curves she possesses. The emerald green of the fabric highlights the warm undertones of her skin in a way that should definitely be illegal.

“My mother’s assistant told me that you did the desserts for my engagement party last night.” Yeosang curses mentally as he finally takes notice of the skating rink sitting on her left ring finger. He misses most of what she says next but tunes back in just in time to hear her ask if he’s available to do her wedding cake as well.

“What’s the date?” He questions, all business now that more money is on the table.

“September 9th. It’s going to be at the old vineyard across town.”

Yeosang nods in acknowledgment. He pencils her in and schedules a day in two weeks for her to come back with her fiancee to do a tasting and make final selections for the other desserts they’d like to have. Ivy is turning to leave when she catches sight of a full-sized version of the cheesecake she’d fallen in love with at the party.

“How much is that cheesecake?”

Yeosang follows her outstretched index finger to the hazelnut berry cheesecake that he’d come up with. It had taken him ages to perfect but hasn’t really taken off like he thought it would. Nevertheless, he makes sure to put one in the display case every day and he’s glad that he did.

“It’s $6 per slice. Did you want one?”

“How much for the whole thing?” Yeosang notices that she has yet to take her eyes off of the dessert.

“I’ll do $35 for you, beautiful.” For a second, he thinks that he may have overstepped his boundaries but she simply reaches into her bra to pull out a flashy, black card. The credit limit on that thing would probably pay off the loan on his storefront and then some.

He tries not to focus on how warm it is when she places it into his outstretched hand. He could’ve sworn that she intentionally let her fingers graze his own in a less than professional way. Yeosang shakes the thought away as that can only lead to trouble. He packs her cheesecake up while she signs the credit card receipt.

“Have a great day,” Yeosang pauses to look at the signature line of the receipt. “…Ivy.”

“Right back at you.” She winks at him playfully and sashays outside to her car. Yeosang’s eyes are trained on her until she’s seated in her seated in the black Audi he’s just now noticing was parked across the street.

Ivy calls Jin the second she steers her car back onto the road, waiting patiently for him to answer. She’s practically vibrating from the few minutes she’d spent with…fuck she’d forgotten to get his name but there is plenty of time for that. One thing she’s sure she’ll never forget is how hot he is. Ivy would’ve never guessed that she’d be attracted to someone with quite so many tattoos but on him they had looked like priceless works of art worthy of being placed in the Louvre.

“Hey, Vee, what’s up?”

“Two things. One, the bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding.” Ivy curses at a slow driver that cuts her off at an intersection, losing her train of thought for a second.

“And the second thing?” Jin presses.

“Oh, I’m going to fuck the owner.” A thrill shoots through as she imagines those tattooed hands roaming every inch of her skin. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as her body reacts to her impure thoughts.

“Absolutely love that for you. What’s his name?” Of course he asks her the one question that she doesn’t know the answer to. She rolls her eyes skyward as Jin starts talking shit when he realizes that she didn’t ask her new crush his name.

“I hate you.” She pouts as she turns onto her street. “We have a tasting scheduled for the 17th so I’ll ask him then. I’m almost home so I’ll text you later.”

“Smell ya later.” Oh what she’d give to flip him off right now.

The smile on her face when Ivy walks inside her parents’ house is genuine despite the fact that she’s spent all day doing wedding preparations which normally leaves her in a foul mood. Her high spirits don’t go unnoticed by her mother who is in the backyard pruning her orchids.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“The bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding too. Also,” Ivy lifts the box holding God’s favorite cheesecake in the air. “he gave me a deal on the cheesecake that we liked.”

“Are you serious? He said that he was booked up the entire week of your wedding.” Ivy is a bit taken aback as he had specifically told her that he would be available, but she shrugs it off.

“Maybe he had a cancellation. Do want some cheesecake? This is your only offer because I fully plan to eat the whole thing right now.” Her mother tosses her pruning shears back into the box she keeps them in and follows Ivy into the kitchen where they make quick work of the heavenly dessert.

“Yeosang you fucking dumbass. How are we supposed to do a wedding and an anniversary party in the same damn day? Explain it to me.” Yeosang almost flinches when Yunho yells at him. He can’t think of a time the man has ever raised his voice before now and he’s known him since they were three. Not one to accept disrespect, Yeosang would normally react with anger of his own but even he has to admit that thinking with his dick has put them all in a bind. A socialite wedding and an anniversary party with a guest list longer than his body on the same day is going to take a miracle to pull off.

“Listen these rich people gave us two grand more than they were supposed to as a fucking tip. If they had asked me to get ass naked and let people eat pineapple rings off my dick I would’ve said yes.”

“She had big tits didn’t she?” Jongho typically stays out of their petty arguments but he knows bullshit when he hears it.

“Yes, but,” The room erupts into a cacophony of groans as they all simultaneously throw the closest object at hand Yeosang’s hand. Luckily for him he’s always been quick on his feet. “What’s done is done you fuckwads so get over it and start mixing. We still have orders to fill.”

All eight of them are covered in flour from their frantic baking when they hear the bell jingling up front. Hongjoong happens to be the only one able to immediately stop what he’s doing so he washes his hands and goes to attend to the customer. Yeosang nearly falls backwards off of his stool when he hears the voice of the woman that had put them in such a bind. Wooyoung and San exchange curious glances before they wipes their hands on the front of their aprons and head up front as well. Yeosang feels like his stomach is going to fall out of his ass as one by one they all abandon their posts.

“Satan, why are you doing this to me?”

There’s no reason for him to stay in the back like a coward so he follows suit, wiping his hands and going to the front counter as well. They’re all squished together behind the counter trying to get as close to her as possible. Yeosang shoulders his way between Jongho and Seonghwa and he finally understands why they all look like lovestruck school boys. He finds himself looking just as dopey as his friends when she turns that megawatt smile on him. She’s dressed a lot more casually today in a pair of jeans that had to have been painted on and a plain white baby tee. The little jewel glittering in her belly button looks like its winking at him and he has the overwhelming urge to flick it with his tongue.

“Another cheesecake?” He nods his head towards the box cradled in her hands. She looks sheepish at being caught out. Yeosang thinks it’s cute.

“In my defense, it’s tasty as hell.”

“Just make sure you tell everyone where you got it.” He winks at her playfully which was an incredibly bad idea. She sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip and he knows immediately that despite the massive rock on her finger he would still make a move on her. Time to leave before he does something stupid.

“Alright you lazy sacks of shit, back to work.” They protest just as he’d expected but he pushes them all back towards the kitchen, rolling his eyes as they try to resist him.

“Hey, wait!” Yeosang shouldn’t have turned around. He should’ve kept going as if he hadn’t even heard her, but no, he just has to have manners. She’s propped herself up against the counter that makes her breasts nearly pop out of the scoop neck line of her shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Yeosang.” She repeats it back to him, testing it out on her tongue. Her voice curls around the syllables lusciously and he could die right where he stood. At this point, he’s convinced that she’s made it her life’s mission to ruin him.

Ivy is quick to call Jin when she gets back to her car which seems to be the norm every time she goes to the bakery. She knows that he’s going to make fun of her for being so excited, but she can’t exactly tell her other friends about the hot, tattooed bakery owner that she plans to screw so she’ll suffer the consequences. At least now she actually knows his name so he can’t hold that over her head anymore.

The 17th has finally rolled around which means Ivy has another opportunity to draw Yeosang into her trap. Jin currently sits cross-legged on the bed in his guest room where Ivy had spent the previous night as she models her potential outfit for the day. The yellow slip dress has potential, but Jin isn’t totally impressed. He sends her back into the closet to try on one of her other options. She reappears in a fiery orange tank top tucked into a pair of lightly distressed white jeans.

“Your ass looks great in the jeans so that’s a definite yes, but I’m not really feeling this shirt.” Jin comments as Ivy does a slow turn in front of him. He crosses the room to his closet to help her go through the clothes she’d brought with her to see what her other options are. He eventually helps her settle on a simple black tank top that perfectly molds to the curves of a figure.

“Alright let’s go eat some cake and hopefully get your cakes smashed.” Jin remarks as he herds Ivy towards the door.

When they arrive at the bakery, Yeosang has just finished putting out the tasting plates that he’d prepared. Jin is too focused on the fact that he gets to eat cake before lunch without anyone scolding him for it to notice the way that Yeosang’s face falls when he sees him walking in with Ivy. She doesn’t miss it though. Nevertheless, he reaches out to introduce himself.

“Yeosang. Nice to meet you.” Jin reciprocates his greeting before pulling out a chair for Ivy to sit down in.

Things are all business from there on as Yeosang slides the first cake towards them and Ivy has never been more disappointed in her entire life. Gone is the Yeosang that called her beautiful and responded well to her flirting. She blames Jin.

“So this first one is a spiced vanilla cake with a raspberry cream cheese frosting with a little orange zest.” Ivy is so focused on the way Yeosang’s lips are moving that Jin has to elbow her to bring her back to reality. She sheepishly accepts the fork that she hadn’t realized was being presented to her to taste the masterpiece in front of her.

As they talk about what they like and don’t like about the cake, Yeosang hands them each a scoring cards to rank their favorites. Regardless of the way she feels about him on a personal level, Ivy has to admit that Yeosang is incredibly good at what he does. He was able to take her obsession with his cheesecake and come up with such interesting cake options. She’d been slightly concerned that he hand’t asked for her likes or dislikes in terms of taste, but as they move from cake to cake she realizes that he didn’t need to. Everything tastes amazing. It’s no surprise that each cake receives the highest score possible on their scoring cards. Deciding which one to go with is going to be hell.

“If you don’t let me have the spiced vanilla one we tried first I am calling off this engagement and marrying Yeosang instead of you.” Ivy stands corrected. Yeosang chuckles lowly at Jin’s enthusiasm and the throaty sound sends a shiver down her spine. It’s unfair just how effortlessly attractive he is.

“Okay folks, let’s talk decorations.” Yeosang reaches to his right, pulling a sketch pad from the empty chair next to him. His hand loosely grips a pencil as he waits for Ivy and Jin to throw some ideas at him. Ivy would prefer to throw herself at him instead, but someone how she manages to focus her brain on cake design.

Both Ivy and Jin agree on the fact that they want something simple, but beyond that they have clue what they want. Yeosang busts out a quick sketch of a three tier cake with fondant branches bearing dogwood flowers climbing the height of it. When he presents the rough drawing to them, Ivy immediately falls in love. Thankfully, Jin agrees because she was prepared to fight him over this. They spend a little while longer picking out other desserts for people who don’t want or can’t have cake, but all too soon Yeosang is watching the happy couple disappear from his shop.

The six months until the wedding seem to blend together. Business has picked up significantly in the previous weeks which has been good for Yeosang in more ways than one. The extra cashflow has allowed him to get ahead on some bills while also giving everybody a bit of a raise. According to Seonghwa, who is primarily in charge of the front counter since accidentally slicing his hand open, a lot of the new customers have been big names in the community that are connected to Ivy or her family in one way or another. The woman in question often stops in for a cheesecake. She always asks to speak to Yeosang, claiming to have questions about the wedding though he gets the feeling that she really just wants to talk to him. Every day it gets harder and harder to resist her flirtatious advances. He refuses to be a casual fling for some bored rich girl no matter how much his dick begs him to. Especially one with rapidly approaching nuptials.

Yeosang has never been a very spiritual person, but when he gets the call that the anniversary party he’d scheduled Ivy’s wedding over had been cancelled due to the wife having the flu, he knows that some divine being is looking out for him. He had planned to do his best, but with only one more week left to prepare he was still very unsure of how he was going to pull off two events of that scale in one day. The husband Johnathan Tooney, current district attorney in the next county over, sounds shocked on the phone when he offers them a full refund despite the fact that his contracts states that customers are only entitled to a fifty percent refund of any money paid if the event is cancelled the week of. Most of his customers pay half upfront and the remaining half afterwards, but they had chosen to pay for everything up front. Something Yeosang had greatly appreciated as it was a $2,600 job. Ultimately, Mr. Tooney tells him not to as they intend to reschedule the party as soon as his wife is feeling better and would still like for him to provide the desserts they’d contracted for.

The guys are all equally relieved when Yeosang delivers the news of the anniversary party’s cancellation. Things are smooth sailing from there as they throw all of their focus and energy into making sure that everything will be ready for the wedding next weekend. Not surprisingly, Ivy doesn’t make an appearance in the bakery that week, but what is surprising is that Yeosang finds himself actually missing her presence. Despite his avoidance of all her flirting, he actually likes talking to Ivy whenever she comes in. She may be a bored rich girl but her mind is just as captivating as the rest of her.

On the day of the ceremony, Yeosang is uncharacteristically antsy. He’s not sure what it is but he can’t seem to sit still no matter what he does. He’s itching to get this day over with so Mingi can buy him the beer he owes him. Wooyoung scolds him for being distracted when he almost drops one of the cake tiers on his way to load it into one of the delivery vans. No one has to vocalize just how disastrous that would’ve been because they all know but missing an opportunity to call people out on their shit is just not in Wooyoung’s nature.

“Look, I know you’re feeling some type of way because your crush is marrying a pretty boy that’s not you but I’m going to need you to at least pretend that you still want to get paid for this job.” Yeosang nods in acknowledgment because while he doesn’t like being yelled at like a child even he knows that he’s got to get his shit together and quickly.

“Notice how he didn’t deny his crush on cheesecake girl though.” San pipes up as he hops into the drivers seat of the van. Everyone snickers, switching to full on laughter when Yeosang flips them all off.

Thankfully, the reception goes off without a hitch. The wait staff helps set up the extensive dessert table to save on time and it comes out just as Yeosang had envisioned it. He snaps a few pictures for the bakery’s website before they leave venue. Ivy and Jin had extended invitations to Yeosang and his staff to stay for the reception, but they’d all politely declined. They’re on their way out of the service entrance when one of the girls on the wait staff runs out with two giant paper bags in her hands. Apparently, Ivy had included enough meals in her catering package to feed the vendors that would be in the building on her big day which coincidentally included Yeosang and his gang of merry bakers. They’re all taken aback by the thoughtfulness of the gesture as Yeosang accepts the bags from the staff member who quickly runs back inside the dining hall.

“Cheesecake girl is a fucking saint.” Mingi hardly ever garners emphatic agreement from the rest of his friend group but today is one of those rare occasions.

Business continues as normal following the wedding. Product is flying out of the display case. Catering orders are still coming in left and right. Ivy still stops in once a week for a cheesecake and to flirt with Yeosang. The guys still tease him for his crush on said married woman. Everything is normal.

Until it’s not.

Jin looks like freshly printed money when he strolls into Bad Boy Bakery for the first time since the cake tasting all those months ago. The silver band on his ring finger glitters even in the fluorescent lighting. Yeosang is finishing up his closing routine when he hears the bell and emerges from his office.

“Seokjin?” The manila folder clasped in the other man’s hands makes Yeosang nervous. The last time someone in a suit approached him with a manila folder he was being presented with a plea deal and ended up doing ten months in jail for assault and grand larceny.

“We need to talk. I’ll wait for you to finish up.” Jin takes a seat at an empty table and hums to himself as he waits for Yeosang to join him.

He doesn’t have to wait long for the young business owner to emerge from his office with his keys and a denim jacket in hand. The mischievous smile on Jin’s face makes him uneasy, but he’s no bitch. Yeosang steels his nerves and schools his facial expression into one of bland indifference. He arches an eyebrow when Jin slides the folder across the table and produces a pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The folder may as well be a poisonous spider with the way Yeosang refuses to touch it.

“Whatever you think it is, I promise it’s not that.” Yeosang stares Jin down for a few seconds, looking for anything at all that would suggest he should end this whole interaction right now. He doesn’t find it.

With a resigned sigh, Yeosang flips through the contents of an envelope. He shoots Jin a look when he realizes that he’s currently skimming over a nondisclosure agreement. It looks to be focused around Ivy and Jin’s marriage. The word arranged jumps out him a few times and his eyes nearly bug out of his head. The agreement is vague on the finer details but Yeosang is comfortable enough with what he’s read to quickly scrawl his name at the bottom of the last page. Jin signs his name as witness and neatly tucks everything back into the manila folder.

“Now that we have that out of the way.” Jin relaxes back into the chair and fiddles with his wedding band. “Ivy likes you. She’ll never admit that because she’s stubborn but she likes you and wants you fold her like a towel.”

“Wait, wait, wait, are you saying that your wife wants to have sex with me? How are you okay with this?” Yeosang has always loved forbidden fruit but ruining relationships was the old him. He doesn’t know what to do with this information. Furthermore, he can’t imagine being married to someone like Ivy and being okay with her sleeping with someone else.

“That’s where the NDA comes in.” Yeosang sits in stunned silence as Jin gives him the true behind the scenes story about he and Ivy’s marriage and it’s nothing like the best friends to lovers trope that they’ve fed to society. Well, he guesses the best friend part is true, but they’ve definitely never been anything close to lovers and never will be. They’re simply holding up their end of a decades-old business deal. According to Jin, he and Ivy have already devised a plan to be divorced in a year.

“So,” Yeosang is a bit unsure on how to proceed. This is uncharted territory. “what exactly are you saying to me?”

“Stop feeling bad about wanting to fuck Ivy and just do it. She’s driving me insane at home talking about how hot you are all the time and I can’t take it anymore. She’s out of cheesecake so she’ll be in here within the next couple of days so make your move. Discreetly.”

Yeosang lays in bed that night still shocked at everything he’s learned today. His mind and body have been at war over what he believes to be right and what his body craves. He’d love nothing more than to worship Ivy from head to toe and before today it had been a pipe dream. Now that he’s been given the green light, he’s still conflicted. It feels too good to be true. But he plans to take full advantage of all the good that comes his way until shit decides to hit the fan.

Ivy gives herself a final once over in the mirror. Her outfit is simple. Just a black bodycon dress paired with a denim jacket and her red converse. According to Jin, she should look like she’s making an effort but not too much of one. She’s hoping that this will do the trick as she grabs for her keys and purse, stuffing her phone into the latter as she waits for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

She wants to call Jin for some last minute encouragement on the way over, but he’s being a boring businessman today and is in the middle of a meeting. Ivy is totally on her own and she’s panicking. Hopefully, Yeosang finds her nervousness cute enough to overlook the awkwardness.

When Ivy enters the bakery, one of Yeosang’s friends is manning the counter. A gentle giant with a kind smile. She remembers that his name also starts with a Y like Yeosang’s but she can’t put her finger on exactly what it is.

“Hey, cheesecake girl!” Ivy rolls her eyes humorously at the nickname the other guys in the bakery have given her. She can’t help that the damned cheesecake tastes as good as it does. Before the wedding, she’d had to up her trips to the gym from zero to one just to make sure she’d still be able to fit into her dress on her wedding day.

Her heart drops a little when she scans the display case but sees no sign of the dessert that her soul craves. Yunho laughs are disappointment before disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a box, smiling at the way her eyes light up.

“Yeosang is with the other guys on a job, but he said you’d be in today so he boxed it up before he left.” He slides the box across the glass countertop into her waiting hands. Ivy digs in her purse for her card to pay for the cheesecake, but Yunho is quick to stop her.

“This one’s on the house. Boss’ orders.” Ivy is a bit taken aback. Hand frozen in her purse. Yeosang makes sure that she always pays a discount rate for her cheesecake, but she’s never gotten one for free before.

“Oh…okay. Well, have a good day.”

It isn’t until she gets back to Jin’s place — well she guesses it’s her place now too — that she realizes why Yeosang had decided to pre-package her cheesecake this time. A phone number is scrawled on the inside of the lid with a quick message from Yeosang asking her to call him. She squeals as frantically scrambles to pull her phone from the recesses of her bag. Yunho had told her that Yeosang was out on a job so she texts him instead of calling so as not to disturb him.

She is happily digging her fork into a second piece of cheesecake when Ivy randomly recalls something weird that Jin had said this morning when he left for work. She was still half asleep and barely human, but now here she sits at the dining room table replaying the strange sentence that her brain had decided to finally comprehend.

Don’t forget to call the baker.

Ivy hadn’t been in the right headspace to question it then, but now that the puzzle pieces are clicking into place, it’s becoming painfully obvious that Jin had something to do with the reason she’s anxiously checking her phone every five minutes. The part of her that wants to chase him with a butter sock is overridden by the much larger part that wants to thank him profusely for whatever it is that he did. Unlike Jin, Ivy doesn’t have a harem of men, women, and others lined up to satisfy her needs whenever he’s feeling inclined.

She’s three episodes into a Cold Justice marathon when her phone rings, scaring the living daylights out of her. It’s Yeosang. Ivy’s eyes widen comically as she freaks out over what to do. She chugs the rum and coke she’d been nursing and picks up the call.

“Hello?” She cringes at how apprehensive she sounds even to her own ears.

“Hello, Ivy.” He sounds tired which has given his voice a gravelly edge to it that’s making her blood sing. “I saw your message and thought it would just be easier to call you.”

Ivy isn’t surprised in the slightest when Yeosang tells her about Jin’s visit to the bakery the night before. That’s a typical Jin move to jump the chain of command to accomplish a job. Yeosang doesn’t seem to bothered by the strangeness of it all. He seems more relieved that his guilt for lusting after a taken woman has been absolved if anything.

“This is a first for me so I’m not exactly sure what to do.” Yeosang trails off. He’s out of his element here. It goes without saying that there will be no romantic dinners at expensive restaurants or long walks to the beach.

“This is a first for me too, but you’re a hot baker that laughs at my stupid jokes and I like that.” His throaty laugh in response makes her chest swell with pride at

“I still want to take you on a date though so I guess your place or mine?”

Yeosang is sweating bullets as he punches in the elevator code for the penthouse suite in the swanky high rise at the address Ivy had given him. In his Michael Jackson t-shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers, he knows that he sticks out like a sore thumb, but thankfully no one in the lobby had vocalized that to his face. He adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder as the elevator smoothly ascends to the top floor. He’s been ecstatic when Ivy had told him that she wanted him to come spend the weekend with her since Jin would be out of town on business. This is going to be the first time that he’s seen her in person since they agreed to their little arrangement and he’s nervous to say the least.

The doors silently reveal a posh sitting area as well a lacquered black door adorned with a silver “P”. Yeosang grins at the door mat just outside the door. It depicts a crudely drawn cat with both middle fingers upturned and the words “fuck off” written in a speech bubble. It looks just as out of place as he does and for whatever reason it makes him feel more at ease. He reaches out to press the doorbell but the door is yanked open before he even gets the chance.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!” If his hands weren’t full of groceries, Yeosang would’ve clutched at his rapidly beating heart. Ivy chuckles, pointing to a little black dot above the door.

“We have cameras.”

She grabs for a few of the bags in his hands, but he twists and turns to block her efforts. Their childish antics continue until Yeosang has finally had enough. He crouches down until he’s able to wrap his arms around her thighs, delighting in her squeal when he successfully lifts her from the ground. Ivy swats at his shoulders, but the brute simply crosses the threshold, kicking the door shut with his foot before walking deeper into her home. This first “date” is off to a great start.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Kang?” Ivy drums on the marble countertop enthusiastically as she watches Yeosang unpack the groceries he’d brought with him.

“As much as I love a good paying customer, It’s time for you to learn how to make this cheesecake yourself.”

“You better hope I suck at it or I’ll put you out of business.”

“I don’t mind a little competition.” Yeosang smiles deviously. “Especially when the rivals look as pretty as you.”

Ivy feels her cheeks heat up in the face of such flirtation and she’s never been more thankful for the fact that her darker complexion hides the evidence of it. She’s come to know him well enough to know that he would definitely rib her for that.

As it turns out, Ivy is a natural born baker. Yeosang’s heart swells in his chest as he watches her sway her hips to the music she’d turned on as she stirs the berry compote on the stove. His chest bumps against her back as he steps up behind her and he swears he sees her shiver. He rests his head on her shoulder, covering his hand with hers and slows down the speed of her stirring.

“You have to be gentle with the berries, love.” At the sound of his voice so close to her ear, Ivy’s insides turn to goo.

“Maybe I don’t want to be gentle.” Her words hit him square in the chest and he wants to respond in so many ways, but he settles for a chaste kiss on her temple. He’d briefly contemplated taking it slow with her, but they’ve been dancing around each other for nearly seven months at this point and there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. The wanton desire is mutual on both sides but he wants to hear her beg. Wants her desperate and needy for him.

He eventually removes his hand from hers, choosing to instead hold onto her hips as he continues to coach her through the next steps. She’s so focused on keeping her berries from sticking that Yeosang is able to catch her off guard when he slips his hands inside her tank top to rest them against her bare skin. The gasp she lets out makes him smile deviously. His hands drift up from her lower stomach until his thumbs are brushing the lacy cups of her bra. It’s Yeosang’s turn to be caught off guard when she presses her ass firmly against his front. The way she subsequently swivels her hips is nearly his undoing, but Yeosang has a game plan and he intends to see it through.

“You’re a naughty girl, Ivy.” He lowers a hand to tug on the elastic waistband of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, letting it snap back in place. She hisses at the sting but, if the way her head lolls back onto his shoulder is any indication, she loved it. Yeosang slides his hand lower as if he’s going to cup her over her shorts only to completely remove himself from her.

He busies himself with other things around the kitchen but he can feel her glare on him the entire time. She grumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like the words “teasing asshole” but he choose to ignore it. For now.

Ivy is visibly on edge as she waits for Yeosang to touch her again, but he doesn’t make a single move to do so. He simply dances around her in the kitchen as they finish up their cheesecake preparation. It has to cool once they take it out of the oven so they migrate to the living room while they wait. The episode of Bones that Ivy been watching before he’d arrived is still paused on the tv so she restarts it and settles in next to Yeosang on the couch. She lets out a girlish squeal when he hauls her into his lap instead. He spreads her legs so that they straddle both of his, letting out a content sigh as he rests his chin on her shoulder. Arms wrapped securely around her waist.

He waits until she’s engrossed in the episode. Certain that he’s going to keep his hands to himself. If he’d been able to see her face, he would’ve been able to see the devious grin as she devised a plan of her own. Ivy shifts her legs around until both of her feet are planted on the floor between Yeosang’s. She swivels her hips in the cradle of his lap, snickering at the groan he lets out. Two can play this teasing game. She grabs both of his hands in her own and lifts them to her breasts. Yeosang just lets them linger there. This is her show now and he wants to see her directing skills firsthand.

With her physical encouragement, he pinches her erect nipples through the thin layers of her shirt and bra. The breathy sigh in response to his touch gives him a high that he can quickly see himself becoming addicted to. She ups the ante by dislodging his hands to remove her shirt and bra. She places his hands back on her chest, sighing once more at the feel of him kneading her breasts without any hindrances. Yeosang licks and sucks at the column of her neck. He’s careful not to leave any marks which he’s sure she’ll be appreciative of later. Her needs grows and grows until she’s craving more than what he’s giving her.

“Yeosang,” The way she half moans his name sounds like the sweetest melody. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, baby girl.” She grunts in frustration. Looks like she’ll have to take matters into her own hands once more.

Yeosang is shocked when Ivy suddenly rises to her feet. He’s more than confused as he watches her disappear down a hallway off to the right of the living room. His breath catches in his throat when her shorts suddenly fly back into view followed closely by a pair of panties that match the bra on the floor by his right foot. He nearly falls over in his haste to catch up to her. He finds her in the bedroom that she’d pointed out as hers when she’d given him a quick tour earlier. She’s reclined amongst the mountain of pillows circling her swollen clit with her middle finger as she fondles one of her breasts. Her mouth is slightly ajar from the pleasure and he swears that he’s never seen a sight more breathtaking. Yeosang swallows, trying to get his wits about him when she speaks and breaks him out of his daze.

“Clothes off, babe.” His limbs are a blur as he rushes to follow her instructions. With every inch of skin he reveals, Ivy finds herself falling deeper and deeper into his trap.

She’d seen the tattoos that covered his arms and the back of his right hand, but the Hebrew script running down his side is new to her and she makes a mental note to ask him what it says later. Right now she wants nothing more than for him to hold her down with his weight and make her his. Yeosang’s eyes are practically glued to her center so shiny from her arousal. He licks his lips at the thought of how good she probably tastes and the mere idea of having her on his tongue nearly consumes him.

Yeosang tugs on his hardened cock as he slowly walks towards the oversized bed. She’s mesmerized by the appendage standing proud between his legs. It’s not over long but he can barely get his own fist around it so she knows that the stretch will be phenomenal when he finally gets inside. He grabs her by both ankles and pulls her into the center of the bed so that she’s flat on her back. She squirms in anticipation as he crawls over her. Lips and hands caressing every inch of her skin that they can reach. She moans deep in her throat when he finally covers her lips with his own in their first ever kiss. Her fingers find purchase in his hair, holding him to her as they ravage each other. Each exhale from her lips traded for his.

Ivy is brought back to the task at hand when a needy thrust of Yeosang’s hips has the engorged head of his erection pressing against her clit. She bites down on his bottom lip at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, rolling her hips up to get more of the addictive friction.

“Gotta taste you. Want you to cum in my mouth.” Yeosang’s words don’t match up with his actions as he continues to peck her lips over and over again. Eager to discover if his tongue is just as talented as his hands, Ivy pulls away to gently push at his head until he gets the message.

The first swipe of his tongue on her soaked flesh is purely self-indulgent. He’s thrilled to discover that she tastes just as sweet as he thought she would. Like the nectar of a fresh honeydew. He sucks her clit into his mouth, biting down on it gently before swirling his tongue around it to soothe the ache. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she can’t decide if she wants to run from or towards his mouth. She doesn’t get the chance to decide as Yeosang anchors her squirming hips to the bed with one of his arms.

He teases her entrance with a single finger, smirking at the filthy curses falling from her lips as she begs him to make her cum. He gives her clit a particularly harsh suck as he sinks his finger in deep. Her breathing starts coming in quick pants when he adds a second finger and then a third. When she starts folding in on herself, he pulls his fingers from her dripping hole. Her suddenly empty hole clenches around nothing as she complains about being denied the orgasm she was dancing on the edge of.

Her complaints die on her tongue when she takes in the sight of Yeosang walking on his knees towards her. Ivy sits up and meets him halfway. She can taste herself on his tongue as their lips meet for the second time and it has a fresh tidal wave of arousal all but gushing from her. His waning self-control is evident in the way he turns her around to face her headboard, pushing on her shoulders until she’s face down in in the sheets.

She whimpers at the heavy smack he rains down on her ass. He groans at the way it bounces before he grips both cheeks in his hands, pulling them apart to get a proper view of her waiting entrance. Part of him wants to tease her some more, but he doesn’t have it in him to wait one more minute. She nearly sobs at the satisfying stretch of him sinking into her eager flesh in one smooth thrust. He grinds his hips against her ass, relishing in the way her walls are hugging him so tightly. She clenches around him, trying to draw him back in as he eases his hips back only to roughly thrust his length back into her. He repeats that action a few more times to open her up before finally breaking loose.

All forms of speech beyond broken curse words and his name are lost to Ivy as Yeosang demolishes her. His pace builds till it’s almost frantic. It feels like his length is vibrating within her and she can feel her orgasm approaching quickly. She tries to warn him, but he is already well aware. He slows his hips down to a gentle roll and the change in pace has her seeing stars as he can now expertly target that sensitive spot deep within her. He reaches underneath her to rub circles in her clit and she’s lost. Black dots dance around across her vision as the pleasure threatens to completely drag her under. His hips never stop moving as he fucks her through it. The erratic clenching of her inner walls soon proves to be too much for him. He pulls out of her wet heat just in time to release his seed onto her back.

Ivy collapses onto her stomach. Exhausted beyond measure. Yeosang falls next to her breathing just as hard. He’s not going to lie and pretend that he hasn’t dived into more than his fair share of pussy, but that was easily the best sex he’s ever had. He can barely breathe but that doesn’t stop him from leaning over to press his lips against hers once more. Their chests are still heaving when they separate, choosing instead to lean his forehead against hers.

“I can’t feel my legs.” She whispers on a breathless laugh.

“Good thing I’m the king of aftercare.” He pecks her lips once more before crossing the room to her en suite bathroom to get a warm towel to clean her up with. By the time he returns, she’s fast asleep much to his surprise. Normally, Yeosang likes to end his trysts with a massage, but she’s sleeping so peacefully. He cleans up his mess before sliding back into the bed next to her as he pulls a spare blanket over them.

Yeosang awakens the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of coffee brewing. A shower is definitely in order before he seeks out Ms. Ivy. He walks into the kitchen a little while later to find her cooking breakfast in his t-shirt. It’s so domestic that for a moment he forgets that she’s legally spoken for until her wedding ring catches the sunlight from the picture windows.

“Morning.” He whispers into her ear. She jumps at the sound, obviously not realizing that he was awake yet. She relaxes against him when he wraps his arms around her midsection.

“Good morning, handsome. I’m almost done if you wanna grab some plates.” Yeosang preens at the compliment, kissing her cheek an obnoxious amount of times before grabbing plates and some silverware.

The sound of their forks clinking against their plates as they eat fills the pleasant silence as the two adults make faces across the table at each other like children. Yeosang can’t remember the last time he was this comfortable with a woman he was seeing. For the millionth time since he woke up this morning, he finds himself resenting the fact that she’s married.

“I can feel you staring.” Yeosang doesn’t bother looking up see Ivy’s facial expression at being caught as he rinses the last breakfast dish to put in the drying rack. “Spit it out before I get old and feeble.”

“What does the tattoo on your side say?” He looks up at her then, searching her face. Ivy is beginning to feel that she shouldn’t have said anything the longer Yeosang remains silent. He drys his hands on a towel, walking towards Ivy where she sits sprawled across one of the cushy armchairs in the living room. He lifts her only to set her back down in his lap.

“May you rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way, and from all manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth.” Yeosang absentmindedly strokes his fingers back and forth across Ivy’s bare thigh. “It’s part of a Hebrew prayer of protection that my mom made me get when she realized that her scolding was falling on deaf ears.”

Ivy can’t help but giggle as Yeosang enthusiastically re-enacts his mother’s words all those years ago. She’s seen the articles in the local magazines. They all tell the same story of a young street kid that found his calling and turned his life around, but words on a piece of paper doesn’t capture the nuance of who Kang Yeosang is. He doesn’t shy away from who he was. He embraces it with open arms. She listens intently as he tells the story that will never be found in any magazine. The story of how he successfully graduated from small-time dealing to running guns, drugs, and the occasional fine artifact when he was only twenty three.

“Would you do it differently if you had the chance?” Ivy picks at the hem of the Thriller he’d been wearing the day before as she awaits his answer. She’s admittedly shocked when he he gives an emphatic no.

“It wasn’t exactly something I could put on my resume, but it set this part of my life into motion.” She leans her head into the crook of his neck. Lulled into comfortable security by the vibration of his vocal cords. “I learned how to run a business. Granted, it was illegal, but I baked my first cake in jail which is what ultimately led to me opening the bakery and then meeting you.”

Time is a forgotten concept as they sit in the armchair sharing embarrassing childhood stories and fleeting kisses when they just can’t help themselves. That’s how Jin finds them. Giggling like teenagers that have finally earned closed door privileges. Yeosang freezes when he notices Jin’s still unsure how to act around him. Ivy on the other hand is excited to welcome her best friend back home.

“Jinnie!” She hops up to give him a quick hug and peck on the cheek before returning to her perch on Yeosang’s lap. Awkwardness is radiating off of the man beneath her in near tangible waves. He visibly relaxes when Ivy buries her fingers in the hair at the back of his head to scratch at his scalp.

“I missed you too, Vee. Good to see you again, Mr. Kang.” Jin winks conspiratorially at Yeosang as he cracks open the bottle of water he’d snagged from the refrigerator. “Take good care of my wife.” He adds as a parting shot on his way down the hall to his bedroom which sends Ivy into a fit of curses. Yeosang finds himself cracking a smile at the sound of Jin’s laughter somewhere down the hall.

It’s not the most conventional situation by any means, but Yeosang feels like he can make this work. He glances down at the grumbling woman in his arms. Yeah, he can definitely make this work.

Yeosang is elbow deep in bread dough for a new recipe he’s working on when he hears his phone ringing where he’d left it on the charger in his bedroom. He’s supposed to be heading to Ivy’s later tonight and he’s hoping to have her taste test his new bread when he gets there, meaning he can have no interruptions so he lets his phone go to voicemail. His phone rings again, but this time the song it plays catches his attention. The Alina Baraz song he’d set for Ivy’s ringtone drifts down the hallway. He instantly cracks a smile at the thought of the woman on the other end of that phone call. Passing up an opportunity to hear her voice is beyond Yeosang’s capabilities so he extracts himself from the dough, making a mad dash for the ringing device.

“Hey, babe.” She sniffles in his ear and all of his sense are suddenly on high alert. In all of the months since they started dating he can’t recall her crying. Ever. She’s just too happy. His mind runs through a myriad of horrible possibilities like film cuts. “Ivy, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I need you.” Yeosang has absolutely no idea what’s going on but his heart feels like it’s being ripped in two at the sound of her crying. He pulls his phone away from his ear when it pings. He has to swallow to keep himself together when he sees that Ivy has sent him her location.

“I’m on my way, baby. I’m coming.”

The other cars on the road look like blurs as Yeosang weaves between and around them at break neck speed. The hospital that Ivy is at is supposed to be a twenty seven minute drive according to google maps, but Yeosang is parking his mustang exactly sixteen minutes later. He’s honestly surprised that he wasn’t pulled over on the way, but his euphoric disbelief is short-lived as he dashes towards the front doors of the hospital.

“Can I help you?” The woman manning the front looks at Yeosang with a barely concealed air of distaste. He follows her eyes to his tattooed arms on display in the short sleeved shirt he’s wearing. He’s still pretty much covered in flour from his bread making and he can tell that she doesn’t think much of him. Normally, he would make an attempt to assuage people like her and show that tattoos don’t make the man, but he doesn’t have time for that.

“I’m looking for Ivy Kim.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not we have someone here by that name.”

“Listen, lady if you-” Yeosang is on the verge of falling into the trap of the old wench’s bias when he hears his name being called. He turns his head to see Jin waving him over from where he’s holding the elevator doors open. He flips the old lady off, delighting in her scandalized gasp as he jogs towards the bay of elevators.

Now that he’s closer, Yeosang notices the cuts and bruises that litter his friend’s face. He looks like he’s been beat pretty good, but he brushes off any questions about what happened. Yeosang is on the verge of choking on his nerves as he follows Jin off of the elevator to room 437.

“I’m going to get some coffee. You guys need to talk.” Jin claps Yeosang on the shoulder once as he goes back the way they came.

He’d risked life and limb to get here, but now he’s afraid to take one more step. He has no idea what’s going on, but he can feel it in his bones that nothing will be the same once he steps through this door. Yeosang’s phone vibrates just then with a notification from the Nike app about some stuff he left in his cart. The little nike swoosh on his phone screen feels like a divine sign for him to stop being such a pussy and go in the room.

Seeing Ivy curled into a ball in the middle of the hospital bed is nearly his undoing. The tears steadily streaming down her face catch the light from the hallway when she turns her head to see who it is. A sob racks her figure as she reaches for him. Yeosang shuts the door, plunging the room back into darkness as he rushes to her side. He’s not used to her looking this fragile and it’s killing him. He kicks his shoes off and climbs into the bed next to her, careful not to jostle the IV needle in her arm. She leans into his touch as he brushes her hair away from her face. The fabric of his shirt is no match for the barrage of tears that Ivy dumps on it. He lets her cry until she has nothing left. For a moment he thinks that she’s fallen asleep, but she whispers something against the skin of his neck. Her voice is so low that he can’t make it out even with her lips being mere inches from his hair.

“You’ve gotta speak up for me, love.” This time when she speaks, he hears her loud and clear.

“I lost our baby.”

He can hear her saying something about a car accident and blood, but her words don’t register in his brain. Yeosang feels like the ground has opened up beneath him, but he’s not falling. Simply hovering, drifting in the void. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant and that’s definitely something Ivy would have told him so he’s guessing that she didn’t know either. Visions of a tiny child with her doe-like eyes and his nose flash across his minds eye. Yeosang has never given much thought to being a father, but knowing that he’d created a child with Ivy only for them to be ripped away like this is tearing him apart. He holds her impossibly close, trying to anchor himself to reality. Tears are flowing down his own face as he attempts to process what they’ve lost.

“This is all my fault.” The guilt in her voice is nearly palpable. Yeosang cups her face in his hands to force her to look him in the eye.

“You did nothing wrong, Ivy. Get that thought out of you head right now, do you hear me?” Ivy nods her head slowly but Yeosang is not naive. No matter what he says, it’s going to take a while before she actually believes the truth in his words.

Jin hates to interrupt them. He loathes it, but life is cruel and Ivy’s parents just texted him that they just parked their car and are on their way inside. His feet feel heavy as he treks back down the hallway. He pokes his head into the dark room and winces at the muffled sound of them crying together.

“I’m so sorry guys, but Ivy’s parents are on their way up.” Yeosang gets the urge to laugh despite the fact that absolutely nothing is funny. This is just adding insult to injury.

Ivy clings to him like a koala when he tries to stand and he’s got half a mind to say fuck the consequences and stay. That wouldn’t be fair to Jin though. He harbors no ill will towards the man even though he’s living the life he wants so for his sake, he extricates himself from Ivy’s grasp to put his shoes on. Her bottom lip quivers dangerously as he leans down to softly kiss her forehead. Jin pulls Yeosang into a hug before he can walk past him and it takes a herculean effort for Yeosang to keep it together. His heart aches with every step he takes towards the exit stairs. It feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to his chest.

He leans his head back against the headrest when he finally reaches his car. A pained yell bursts from his throat before he can even think of trying to stop it. His horn beeps erratically as he pounds at his steering wheel in anger. Yeosang has been through hell in his twenty six years on Earth and yet, he can’t recall a time when he’s ever felt this much mental anguish and despair. Part of him wishes that he’d never stopped slinging coke and running the streets because he’d have never met Ivy and thus would’ve never experienced this. He hates that thought the second it materializes.

The shrill ringing of an old school phone that Yunho had insisted on having as his ringtone breaks through his misery. Yeosang has no desire to utter a word to anyone other than Ivy but Yunho is a persistent bastard. He’ll just keep calling until he gets an answer. He clears his throat and hopes that his childhood best friend is having an off day with those damn spidey senses of is.

“Hello?”

“Dude, have you been crying? No wonder my spirit is unsettled. The fuck is going on?” So much for eluding Yunho’s questions. Yeosang huffs out a shaky breath. He’s not even sure he’s even fully grasped what’s going on himself. He can hear the sound of keys jingling on Yunho’s end.

“Listen, I’m gonna go buy an obnoxious amount of alcohol and then I’m coming over to you place. See you in twenty.” Yunho doesn’t wait for a response, hanging up the phone with a sense of finality.

True to his word, Yunho’s car is parked in front of his building when Yeosang makes it home. His car is empty, so he’s guessing that he must have used his key and gone inside already. He’s not surprised to find Yunho nursing a beer on his couch as he scrolls through something on his phone. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in Yeosang’s haggard appearance. He knows he looks like shit so Yunho’s reaction isn’t unexpected.

It’s nearly three in the morning when they finally crash. Yunho is passed out in the guest room but sleep evades him despite the multiple beers swirling through his system. If he was sober, he probably wouldn’t make this decision, but he’s far from it so he reaches for his phone to FaceTime Ivy. The second her face replaces his on the screen, Yeosang immediately feels like he can breathe again. He’d been avoiding the feeling before now, but after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours? He’s tired of beating around the bush.

“I love you, Ivy.” The smile that spreads across her tired face brings Yeosang so much joy. There’s no telling how long it’s been since she’s graced the world with one of her radiant smiles. He takes it as a victory that he was the one to bring that out of her.

“I love you too, Yeosang.”

#ksmutclub #kang yeosang #ateez #ateez yeosang #ateez fanfiction #yeosang fanfic #yeosang x black oc #yeosang smut #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #yeosang x poc oc #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fluff

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soobiniebaby · 4 years

Text

Angels & Devils Part XIII : Just Stay

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Choi Yeonjun didn’t know when to stop, which was one of his greatest strengths, but now he knew that it could very well be his greatest weakness as well.

Once he had set his sights on something, he’d never stop until he achieved it. Take B for example, the moment he knew he wanted her, he didn’t let anything stop him from pursuing her until she finally said yes. For tonight, a goal he had unintentionally set was to keep himself on Kim Jisoo’s good side, as that’s what his father would have wanted. And because of that, ever since she had arrived at the club that night, he felt as if he had no choice but to follow along with whatever she wanted, even if that meant spending the night entertaining his ex girlfriend.

Park Rose was just as captivating and electrifying as he remembered her to be. Her fiery red hair was just as stunning as her jolting personality, which was one of the things that he had loved about her. She was exciting, even now he could never tell what was going through her mind or what unexpected words would spew out her mouth. She always caught him off guard, and the feeling on being kept on his toes just kept him wanting more.

Tonight was no different. He wanted to believe that the only reason he had been stuck by Rose’s side the whole night was because Jisoo had insisted that he hang around their group for the evening, but he knew that a small part of him was still captivated by Rose’s appeal. He knew that he could easily give Jisoo a plausible excuse to break away from her group, but a part of him didn’t want to.

Maybe it was the 5 rounds of shots that Jisoo ordered up for the group, or maybe it was the 3 glasses of Vodka Redbulls that he had consumed, but whatever it was, Rose felt too familiar, her rose scented perfume overpowering his senses as she leaned in close whenever she spoke to him, the way her laugh resounded above the noise of the blaring club music took him back to all the times she would laugh at all his lame jokes, the way she tilted her head back and laid a hand on his shoulder reminded him of how surprisingly gentle her touch was for someone who was so boisterous and loud, and the way she pouted at him when he refused her offer to dance with her echoed all the times she would pout at him in the past knowing that he would eventually give in and she’d get her way.

With the alcohol overpowering his system and Rose taking over his senses, he lets her pull him through the crowd until they were in the throng of sweaty bodies and booming music, and he watches as she whips her long red hair over her shoulder and starts to move around him. As she rests her hands on his shoulders and slowly moves closer towards him, moving her body against his, he’s reminded of the nights they spent with their bodies entwined and how he memorized every dip and curve in her skin like a map, causing his face to heat up at the memories.

As she notices the shift in his facial expression, she smirks, catching him off guard before grabbing his face and pulling down until their lips crashed together.

She kisses him hungrily, her lips moving fervently as her fingertips dug deeper into his skin, yet unlike the hundreds of kisses they shared before, this one tasted like bitter poison on his lips.

He instantly breaks away, pulling her hands off his body, as he looks at her in distaste. “What the fuck did you do that for?” he hisses.

She looks at him innocently, batting her lashes, before she shrugs. “I missed you, Junnie, and I know you missed me too.” She attempts to lay a hand on his shoulder but he shrugs her off, grabbing her hand and shoving it away.

“You haven’t changed at all, Rose.” he spits out. As he wipes his mouth and turns his back on her, his gaze meets a familiar pair of eyes from across the room, and he freezes, taking in the disappointed look on Soobin’s face, realizing that he had probably seen what just happened.

“Shit.” he says to himself, and as Soobin turns away and shakes his head, Yeonjun quickly darts across the room to meet him, trying his best to navigate through the crowd, keeping his eyes focused on his best friend.

“Soobin, wait.” Yeonjun finally says once he’s within earshot. “I need you to listen.” They’ve reached a less crowded and more quiet part of the club, by the bar, and Soobin had taken a seat on one of the barstools, running a frustrated hand through his hair before downing 3 consecutive shots of vodka. Yeonjun had never really seen his friend like this before.

“What, Yeonjun?” Soobin says, his face going sour as the alcohol slides down his throat. “Whatever it is you have to say, I’m listening now. But I have some things to say too, and when I start talking, you better listen carefully.”

Yeonjun takes a deep breath as he takes a seat beside Soobin, downing a shot of alcohol himself before looking him in the eyes. “I’m not sure what exactly you saw, but I’ll explain everything anyway. And I promise that I’ll listen to whatever you have to say too.” he begins slowly. “Kim Jisoo is here, as in Kim Jonghyun’s successor, the owner of the biggest Technology Firm in the country? Anyway, for as long as I can remember, my father has been very particular about staying on Jisoo’s good side for company relation purposes, and that means practically treating her like a VIP whenever I see her.”

He goes on to explain how Jisoo showed up with her friends and how Rose happened to be one of them, and about how the rest of the night had gone, up until the moment Rose pulled him in for a kiss and he cursed her out.

“Are you done now?” Soobin asks when Yeonjun finally stops talking. He had been quiet the whole time, staring at Yeonjun straight on as he absorbed every word that came out of his mouth. When Yeonjun nods, Soobin sighs.

“Yeonjun, I need you to be honest with me here. I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to really think about it before you give me any answers.” Soobin says, and after Yeonjun nods, he begins.

“First of all, do you still have feelings for Rose?” he asks. Yeonjun’s mouth opens to flat out say ‘no,’ but upon seeing Soobin’s look of disapproval, he pauses and tries to think really hard about it.

He couldn’t deny that he definitely still felt that familiar spark that he used to feel whenever Rose was involved, but he chalked it up to the fact that she just felt familiar and he just felt nostalgic. “To be completely honest, I definitely felt something when I saw her again, but that was just because I was so surprised after not seeing her for what 2 years?” he says.

Soobin raises a brow. “But you definitely felt something? What did you feel?”

Yeonjun lets out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know, it felt…familiar? She felt the same, I felt like a spark but that doesn’t mean anything.”

Soobin’s brows furrow together. “A spark? That doesn’t sound like nothing, Yeonjun.”

“Trust me, whatever it was, it means nothing to me. Because she’s a lying, cheating, manipulative mess of a person and she can go to hell for all I care.” he said, trying to sound as convincing and as chagrined as he could, but after seeing her again, it felt weird to talk about her as if she were trash.

“Whatever you say.” Soobin says, sounding unconvinced. Yeonjun could tell that Soobin was trying to maintain his composure and trying to remain level headed, but the way he rolled his shoulders back was a dead giveaway that he was close to losing it. “And now for my second question.” he says, taking a pause.

Yeonjun raises a brow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Do you…” Soobin begins, hesitating. “Do you love B?”

Yeonjun stopped breathing for a moment, the mention of his girlfriend knocking the wind out of his lungs, the guilt of realizing that she hadn’t even crossed his mind the whole time he was with Rose filling his gut. “Do I love B?” he repeats.

Soobin nods, and judging by how tight his jaw was clenched, Yeonjun knew that he had to consider his answer very carefully. But how could he ever admit that she hadn’t crossed his mind the entire time he was with his ex?

“What kind of a question is that?” Yeonjun exclaims. “Soobin, we’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks, I don’t know. How would I know?” Yeonjun was panicking, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “How do you even know when you’re in love with someone after just 2 weeks—” he sputters, until Soobin takes him by surprise and slams a fist on the countertop, making Yeonjun jump in his seat.

“God damn it, Yeonjun. What the fuck are you saying?” Soobin says, his voice dangerously calm but the words coming out like venom, making Yeonjun wince. “It’s either you love her or you don’t, and right now, it doesn’t sound like you do.”

“Soobin, come on! I can’t just decide whether I love her or not. But I think I definitely could be in love with her.” Yeonjun says helplessly. “I mean, she’s amazing. She’s beautiful, she’s perfect, she’s… one of the best damn things to ever happen to me.” he finishes. “And maybe I’m not sure if I love her right now, but I know that I would make a complete ass of myself if I let a girl like her go, so I could very well love her anyway.”

Silence envelops them then, the club music and party goers sounding distant, as Soobin stares at Yeonjun calculating his answers, until he finally says “She saw you, you know.”

“Who? Baby? She saw me what?” Yeonjun asks nervously.

“She said she saw the look on your face when Rose walked into the club earlier. I wouldn’t have believed her until I saw you actually talking to Rose.” Soobin sighs. “I don’t know if it’s cause she was wasted, because believe me she reeked of alcohol, but she was a blubbering mess, Yeonjun. She was devastated. If she finds out that you kissed Rose, it would kill her.”

Yeonjun’s face starts to pale. “Shit, she saw that? And she told you? How did she even know about Rose?”

“Yes, she apparently saw that and yes, she told me all about it. That’s not the point, Yeonjun. Now this is the part where you listen to me. Very carefully.” Soobin says, his authoritative I’m-the-student-council-president voice taking over. “B is in a very fragile state right now. She was a big mess, crying her eyes out on the floor of the broom closet, already questioning her self-worth, insecurities eating her alive. She told me that it hurt to see you with your ex.”

“She said all that?” Yeonjun says, the guilt weighing down his heart. “What else did she say?”

“Maybe it should’ve been you, Soobin.”

Soobin shook his head, trying to forget that segment of their conversation and everything that followed. “She didn’t say much else. But you know what I said? I told her that you would be a complete idiot to let something as insignificant as your cheater of an ex to fuck things up. But I guess I was wrong.”

Now that really hurt Yeonjun. He put a hand on his chest. “You know she’s the one who kissed me, right?” he says. “Yes, I talked to her and all that, but—”

“You cheated on her, Yeonjun.” Soobin says quietly, making him freeze.

“What did you say?” Yeonjun asks, his hands shaking now. “Are you calling me a cheater, Choi?” his voice raised. How dare he? “Maybe what I did wasn’t right, but you know what a real cheater does? A real cheater uses you and fucks other people behind your back, all the while making you think that everything is your god damn fault.” Just like Rose did, he thought to himself. “And that’s not me.”

“‘Maybe it wasn’t right?’ Yeonjun, you were with your ex for almost the whole night. You could’ve left any time you wanted to but you didn’t. What’s worse is that you felt something, you felt a spark while you were with her. And maybe the kiss wasn’t your fault, but the fact that you even gave her a chance to let it happen speaks volumes to me.” Soobin answers back, his breaths coming in heavy as he starts to lose his composure.

Soobin shook his head. “Forget it. It’s your relationship that you’re fucking up, not mine. You believe whatever you want, tell B whatever you want, I’m staying out of it. But let me just say one last thing.” he says, standing up from the barstool. “You better not hurt her, Yeonjun.”

And with that, Soobin gives him one last meaningful look before downing another shot and walking away.

•°•

When Han Baby woke up the next morning, she was made aware of 3 things.

First, she was badly hungover.

She tried to open her eyes but the blinding lights glaring into the room were too bright for her dehydrated body to endure. She rolls over in bed and she immediately feels a wave of nausea shoot through her stomach as her whole world spins. She squeezes her eyes with her hands and stretches her arms outwards until they come in contact with something warm and soft and solid. A person.

Second, she was not alone in her bed. Surprised, she instantly turns her head to face whoever was sleeping in her bed, instantly regretting it when she feels the world around her spin once again, but an endeared smile instantly creeps into her face when she sees who the person was. It was Yeonjun, his blue hair standing out against her white sheets, one hand over his face and another resting on his bare chest, the blanket coming up to his stomach, which was lined with a subtle yet noticeable layer of muscles.

Third, Yeonjun was laying shirtless in her bed. And he had abs.

She felt her face heat up upon seeing so much of his bare skin and immediately peeked at the covers to see if she was still clothed, and sighed in relief when she saw that she was still wearing her dress from the night before. Once that was established, she takes a moment to observe her boyfriend, who looked like an angel with his glowing honey-tinted skin, his plump perfectly shaped lips slightly parted as he let out a few quiet snores in his sleep, making her giggle. She tries to recall the events that led up to having him sleep in her bed for the night, but nothing from the night before comes to mind.

What happened last night?

She remembered arriving at the club with Kai and walking in together with the guys, she remembered meeting Ryujin and Yuna inside, she remembered having a few shots with the group before someone suggested they play that Kiss or Tell game, but her mind was unable to conjure up images of anything that came after. Whatever happened, she figured it couldn’t have been anything bad since she woke up next to Yeonjun the night after his birthday party, and she was a bit curious and excited to find out how exactly it happened.

Remembering the date, she excitedly scooches closer to him, resting on her elbows as she leans over him and plants gentle kisses all over his face, from his cheeks to his forehead, to his nose and down to his lips.

Yeonjun lets out a noise, a sleepy grunt, before he runs a hand through his hair and slowly opens his eyes, surprised to see B looking down at him.

“Happy birthday, Choi Yeonjun.” she whispers, a bright smile on her face as their eyes meet. He smiles back at her, slowly and groggily, his eyes still cloudy with sleep.

He lifts a hand up and strokes her hair, savoring her radiant smile before gently pulling her towards him to let their lips meet once again. “And good morning to you, Han Baby.” he says, their lips still touching. When he feels her smile against his lips, he lets out a little laugh before pulling her in even closer, until she was lying down on top of him, the covers between their bodies. She lets her fingers roam, fiddling with the sheets until her hand comes in contact with the warm skin of his chest.

“Good morning to you, too.” she says, biting her lower lip to stop herself from smiling too much. “What are you doing here, birthday boy?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his mind is unable to formulate an answer. As he tries to look back on the night before, he realizes that the last thing he remembers was welcoming Kim Jisoo and her friends, which happened to include his ex-girlfriend, into the club. He remembered hanging around them at Jisoo’s request and downing shots and drinking vodka, but after that, his mind went black.

His brows pull together as he responds “I’m actually not sure, the night is a bit of a blur to me, and there’s a lot that I don’t really remember.”

B sighs. “Maybe we can help each other fill in the blanks together? I tell you what I remember and you tell me what you remember?” she suggests, her fingers tracing circles over his torso.

“Are you drawing circles around my nipples?” Yeonjun asks, looking down at his chest where her fingers were. She immediately blushes and pulls her hands away, making him laugh. “Okay okay, let’s fill in the blanks together. What do you remember?”

B tells him about what she recalls, up until the game of Kiss or Tell. “After the game, I hardly remember anything. I think I went off with Ryujin and, knowing her, she’s probably the reason why I got blackout drunk.”

Yeonjun nods. “That sounds about right. I remember I was welcoming some people from my father’s guest list and I ended up tagging along with a few of them.”

“Oh? Which ones?” B asks, her fingers drawing random patterns on his skin.

“Kim Jisoo, heiress to the biggest Technology Firm in the nation. My father insists I treat her like a VIP every time I see her, so I practically have to kiss the ground she walks on. She brought a few friends with her, one of which…” Yeonjun hesitates, before taking a quick breath, “just so happened to be my ex.” he finishes.

B’s fingers freeze on his skin, her mouth snapping shut, as she tries to take in this information. She didn’t want to freak out over it, but a part of her had been insecure about Yeonjun’s past relationship ever since she found out about it. Everyone made it sound like such a big deal, her being his first love and all, and B’s curiosity got the best of her and she even ended up looking her up on social media and stalking her twitter account, which she instantly regretted because all it did was make her feel insecure about herself.

“Your ex?” B asks, trying to sound casual and unfazed. “Your first love, right?”

Yeonjun looks at her surprised and nods. “Yeah, how’d you know about that?”

“Ah, Ryujin and Yuna told me a bit about it. Her name was Rose, right?” B asks.

It felt wrong to hear her name come out of B’s lips, but he nods. “Yeah, Rose. She was with Kim Jisoo last night so I ended up seeing her too. I hope you don’t mind that I spent time with my ex last night.” he says. Granted, he didn’t remember much about what he did when he was with Rose last night, but that didn’t matter to him now.

B nods. “Yeah, it’s fine, I shouldn’t even care about it, I mean it’s your relationship.”

“It was my relationship, but not anymore.” Yeonjun looks at her and notices that she was deliberately avoiding her gaze. “Baby.” he says, trying to get her attention. When her eyes shift to the floor, he cups her face in his hand and gently rubs his thumb against her cheek. “Hey, Baby, look at me.”

She finally looks at him then, and it’s clear in her eyes that she definitely didn’t like the idea of him seeing his ex again. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t avoid seeing her last night. I didn’t know she was gonna be there. If it bothers you or makes you uncomfortable in any way at all, I promise I’ll never see her again.” he says, soothingly tracing her jaw now. He uses his free hand to hold hers and press it against his chest, right where his heart is.

“Do you feel this, Baby?” he asks, the gentle rise and fall of his chest accompanied by the inexplicable beating of his heart. “This is all yours, Han Baby. I am all yours. I promise.” he says reassuringly. She gives a small smile but bites her lip, and he can tell that she was resisting. He uses his thumb to dislodge her lower lip from her teeth, gently brushing it.

“Thank you, Yeonjun.” she says, finally giving him a genuine smile. She knew it might’ve seen strange, and she didn’t want to be that insecure or controlling girlfriend, but it was nice to see that he was making the effort to make her happy, and that was enough for her. “Now I have one question for you…”

Yeonjun raises a brow, wondering what it could be.

She grins. “What happened to your shirt?”

Yeonjun bursts out laughing, his chest rumbling below her, sending vibrations through the sheets. “I think we’ll have to figure out the answer to that together, Baby. You wanna have breakfast before my father inevitably summons me for some bullshit birthday dinner with my family?”

B nods, giggling and booping his nose. “Whatever you want, birthday boy.”

•°•

Turns out that Yeonjun ended up shirtless because someone (presumably B) had thrown up on his shirt, as evidenced by his shirt found discarded on her bedroom floor with puke stains all over. Neither of them could recall how they ended up in B’s bed together or anything else from the night before, but they didn’t mind.

They spent most of the day lazing around B’s apartment, grateful that Kai had conveniently recovered from the chicken pox and no longer needed to stay over at her apartment. Once Yeonjun had received a message from his father telling him to be home by 5PM and a text from his driver saying that he was ready to pick him up and waiting outside B’s apartment, it was time for him to go.

“Um, Baby, as much as I know you don’t mind me being in my shirtless state, I’m pretty sure that my parents would be highly concerned if I came home with a puke-stained shirt from the night before or with no shirt at all.” Yeonjun says after collecting his belongings.

“Oh, right. We probably should’ve washed your shirt when we got up this morning.” B says, slapping her forehead. “Wait, let me check my closet to see if I have anything you can borrow.” she says, opening her wardrobe.

Yeonjun chuckles. “Baby, you are aware of how adorably tiny you are, right?”

B huffs, looking through her cabinet. “I am well aware, thank you.” she says, quickly glaring at him before turning back to her clothes. “But I like to wear oversized clothes, so I might have something in here that could fit you.” she says, looking through the jackets and hoodies hanging in her closet, until she sees a big gray one that definitely looked like it could fit Yeonjun, or even big enough to look oversized on him.

“That looks like it would fit me. It looks like it would be a little too big on me, actually.” Yeonjun observes as B examines the big gray hoodie. “Wow, how big is that on you? It looks like you could wear it as a dress.”

“It goes all the way down to my knees, actually.” B whispers under her breath. “I, uh, I don’t think this hoodie’s any good. I know I have a button down here somewhere that would be perfect fit on you.” she says, quickly putting the big gray hoodie back in and rummaging through the clothes.

“What? Why not?” Yeonjun asks.

Because it’s Soobin’s, she thought. And at the thought of Soobin, her heart aches for some inexplicable reason.

“Because I haven’t really washed it, ah, here it is.” B says dismissively, taking out a plaid button-down shirt and handing it over to him. “I’m sure this will fit you perfectly.”

Yeonjun puts the shirt on and starts buttoning it up, his biceps straining against the fabric. “I’m not much of a plaid guy, but this will do.” he says, fixing the shirt up. “How does it look?”

B giggles. “I’m pretty sure it’s the girlfriend who’s supposed to be wearing the boyfriend’s clothes, but that shirt definitely looks better on you than it ever has on me.”

Yeonjun grins. “Guess we're breaking gender stereotypes then. Alright, you can wear my clothes anytime you want. And thanks, Baby.” he says, giving her a quick kiss. “I really have to go now, Hwall’s been waiting for me downstairs and I don’t think I can keep my father waiting any longer either.”

“It’s alright, Yeonjunie.” she says, rubbing their noses together. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Happy birthday.” she says again.

“Thanks, Baby.” he says, kissing her forehead, making his way down to kiss the tip of her nose, and finally her lips before pulling away. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, she escorts him out of her apartment, watching him make his way down the building and waving him off as he gets into his car.

She sighs as she closes the front door behind her, laying a hand over her chest. Spending the day with Yeonjun was great, but she couldn’t stop thinking of that second of heartache she felt when she thought of Soobin, and how she felt the pain once again as soon as he popped into her mind.

What was that about?

•°•

“Soobin.”

“…”

“Soobin?”

“…”

“Soobin!”

After the third time, he couldn’t resist any longer. He sighs and plasters on a smile before turning to face her. “Hey B.” It was Monday, 2 days after the disastrous events that took place at Yeonjun’s birthday party, and he had been trying his best to avoid both of them. He didn’t know what Yeonjun had told B or how much B knew about what happened on Saturday night, but a part of him was surprised when the pair arrived at school together on Yeonjun’s new motorbike, which was a birthday gift from his parents. “What’s up?” Soobin adds, trying to push away all his thoughts and feign normalcy.

“What’s up? Are you kidding me? You haven’t said a single thing to me today and the first thing you say is ‘what’s up?’” B asks playfully, nudging his arm. That was true, he had gone the whole day without speaking to either of them, which had been easy enough since the 2 of them were practically in their own love bubble at lunch, making it easier for Soobin to stay away. It was currently their last period, their Creative Writing class, and Yeonjun had been pulled out of school for the afternoon by his father so he was absent, leaving B and Soobin alone.

“Technically, the first thing I said was ‘Hey B.’” Soobin returns with a playful tone. “Why? Is there anything you wanna talk about?” he asks a bit nervously. Knowing how wasted she was the last time he saw her, he was unsure about whether or not she remembered anything about their conversation in the broom closet, but he was hoping that she didn’t. Especially the part where he said:

“It’s not like I never liked you, because I did. And I still do.”

To his surprise and relief, B just shakes her head. “Nah, you just seemed a bit off today and I just wanted to know if you were okay. Is there anything you wanna talk about?” she asks.

Soobin’s smile suddenly felt very pained. He wanted to do his best to avoid them and stay out of their relationship, but why did she have to be so damn sweet? And why did she have to look so damn good? He always found her to be rather attractive, from the moment he caught her at the steps on the first day of school, but now she looked absolutely radiant. Her skin was glowing in contrast to her long dark hair, making the blush creeping into her cheeks and her plump pink lips stand out. She looked so beautiful it made his heart ache. “No, I’m fine, but thanks for worrying about me, B.” he simply says.

B raises a brow. “Are you sure? You’ve been looking mopey and sad all day.” she says, concerned. “This something happen? I haven’t heard from you or the other guys all weekend either, except for Ninging.”

Soobin shakes his head. “Nothing’s happened, everything’s fine.” he lies, but then he stops. He knew that something definitely happened and that not everything was fine, but she was acting too cheerful considering what happened last Saturday night. “What about you? How was your weekend? Did anything happen?” he asks, curious now.

“My weekend was nice. I woke up on Sunday morning hungover as fuck, but I woke up and Yeonjun was there in my apartment with me!” she laughs. “It’s actually really funny cause neither of us remember how we ended up together in my apartment. I guess we both got way too drunk last Saturday night. I don’t mind though, cause I got to spend most of Sunday celebrating Yeonjun’s birthday with him until he had to go. It was really nice.” B says with a happy smile on my face.

No way. Did she not know? “Oh that does sound nice. I can’t believe you got wasted last Saturday night though. How much do you remember?” he asks, wanting to know.

She bites her lip, trying her best to recall. “Honestly, not much. I only remember up until we played that Kiss or Tell game then we all sort of went our own ways. Ryujin dragged me along and I’m pretty sure we ended up doing shots, which is probably how I got so drunk. Other than that, the night’s a blank. Same goes for Yeonjun, though he did tell me that he remembered seeing his ex girlfriend there. You knew his ex, right?” she asks with wide curious eyes.

So Yeonjun didn’t tell her? “Yeah, I remember Rose. I can’t believe she was there. Did Yeonjun mention anything else? I mean, it must have been weird for him to see his ex again after 2 years.” he says, the kiss between Yeonjun and Rose clear in his mind and the confrontation that followed after still lingering in his thoughts.

B shakes her head. “I guess it was a bit weird but he didn’t mention anything, just that he ended up getting pretty drunk as well. And I know it sounds crazy, but to be honest, the thought of him seeing his ex girlfriend again makes me feel sick but he promised he wouldn’t see her again or do anything that made me feel uncomfortable. Isn’t he sweet?” she says, laughing.

No fucking way. He didn’t tell her. Now Soobin was mad, and he badly needed to keep himself together. He didn’t want to lose it, especially not in front of B, who didn’t seem to know anything. “Wow, that does sound sweet.” he says, trying not to let the bitterness creep into his tone.

B nods. “He really is.” she says dreamily. Soobin grips his seat tightly, his knuckles straining as he tried to keep his composure. How could Yeonjun not tell her? And how could she sit there and gush over him? The whole thing made him feel sick and he wished he never saw B crying in the broom closet or that he never saw Yeonjun kissing Rose, he wished he could be as blissfully unaware as B was, cause the whole thing was making his blood boil. He just wanted to get away from both of them, to follow Taehyun’s advice and stay as far away from their relationship as possible.

Just as he felt like he was about to combust, their teacher catches the class’s attention.

“Hello class. I can see that a lot of you have been making good progress with your social media project, but I have to say that over the weeks, I don’t feel like there’s much of a story in your posts. I’ve decided to extend your project up until the end of the term, and I’m sure you’ll all be happy to know that you’ll be stuck with your partners until then.” Sir Kim announces, sending the class buzzing.

B turns to Soobin with a big smile on her face. “Hear that, Soobin? Looks like we’ll be stuck together ‘till the end of the term.” she says excitedly.

Soobin gives her a pained smile in return. “Great.”

•°•

“Hey Baba, remind me I need to stop by your place to pick up my stuff.” Kai says as he munches on his egg tarts.

B nods. “Sure thing, Ninging. I already cleaned up the guest room and I left all your clothes folded neatly on the bed.”

It was after school and they were doing their usual hangout at Kang’s café, and Soobin felt like he was going out of his mind. He kept bouncing his knee under the table and shaking his legs, as if something were trying to crawl out of his skin.

Noticing this, Taehyun nudges his leg and raises a brow at him.

In response, Soobin decides to send him a text.

“Ah, my mom just texted me that she needs help lifting some things in the pantry. Soobin, can you come with me? I could use your help.” Taehyun says casually, finishing up his glass of lemonade.

Soobin nods and stands straight up. “Let’s go.” he says, making his way to the kitchen before Taehyun even got the chance to stand up.

Taehyun sighs, leaving the table and following after him. Beomgyu shoots him a confused look, but Taehyun just shakes his head in response, leaving Beomgyu at the table with B and Kai.

Taehyun leads the way into the pantry at the very back of the kitchen, letting Soobin in before locking the door behind him.

“Okay, we should be safe here. Now tell me, what’s wrong? Why do you look like you can’t breathe whenever you’re with B?” Taehyun says, folding his arms across his chest.

Soobin takes a deep breath. “Okay, remember when I found B wasted and crying her eyes out over seeing Yeonjun with Rose last Saturday?” he begins. Taehyun nods, urging him to continue. “Well, there’s more to it than just that.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyun asks. “You know, we still haven’t really talked about what happened last Saturday night, I was too busy to call you yesterday. I need you to tell me everything now.”

“Alright, so I saw B crying because she saw Yeonjun with Rose, she was an insecure wreck so I tried to comfort her and out of nowhere she says ‘Maybe it should’ve been you, Soobin.’” he says, holding up his hands to do air quotes. “So I was like, what’s that supposed to mean? Then she said that people have told her before that she and I would’ve been a good couple or something and then she says something like ‘maybe I should’ve chosen you, even though that wasn’t an option cause you never liked me’ and that’s when I ended up telling her ‘It’s not like I never liked you, cause I did, and I still do.’” Soobin says, groaning as he covers his face with his hands in shame.

Taehyun goes soft and lets out an “Aw, Soobin. That’s how you told her you like her?”

Soobin nods. “Yes, and I know I said that I wished she wouldn’t remember anything, and guess what, she doesn’t remember anything!”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Now you won’t have to clear the air with her about you whole ‘I like you’ confession.” Taehyun asks.

“Yes, but I mean she doesn’t remember anything. All she remembers is up until the end of the Kiss or Tell game and then getting drunk with Ryujin. She doesn’t remember seeing Yeonjun with Rose, she doesn’t remember how devastated she was when she saw them together.” Soobin say, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that still doesn’t seem too bad. At least now she won’t feel bad about it.” Taehyun reasons out.

Soobin shakes his head. “That’s not all. After you and Gyu arrived and you kicked me out of the broom closet, I started wandering around the club, then I saw Yeonjun with Rose. It seemed fine at first, they seemed like 2 people catching up and having a good time, dancing in the club, but then she kisses him.”

Taehyun’s eyes widen. “Yeonjun and Rose kissed last Saturday night?” he says in disbelief. “When? How? Why?”

“I dunno, I think it was about 30 minutes after I left you and Gyu with B? And it was like I said, one minute they’re talking and laughing, then the next minute they’re on the dance floor, and next thing I know they’re kissing.” Soobin says. “Yeonjun pulled away, and that’s when he saw me and we had a little talk.”

“Wow, that sounds bad. Rose is such a bitch, I’ve always hated her. What did you 2 talk about?” Taehyun remarks.

“I sorta just confronted him about it. I gave him a chance to explain what just happened, I asked him if he still had feelings for Rose and he said he felt a spark or something, I asked him if he loves B and he didn’t seem to know. I told him that B saw him and Rose together and how messed up she was over it. I told him that he cheated on B, that even if Rose was the one who kissed him he shouldn’t have given her a chance to let it happen in the first place. And I told him that he better not hurt B. That’s it.” Soobin says, explaining the gist of their conversation.

“That’s, wow, that’s a lot to unpack.” Taehyun says, trying to absorb everything. “I think you do have a point about it being Yeonjun’s fault that Rose kissed him, he should’ve known and just stayed away from her instead of letting something like that happen. But don’t you think that calling him a cheater was a little bit harsh?”

Soobin shakes his head, looking tired. “Maybe, but it’s how I see it. First, he admits that he still feels a spark when he was with his ex, then he spends a big chunk of the night with her, then he ends up being kissed by her? All while his girlfriend is crying her eyes out just from the mere sight of them together? I don’t know about you, but for me, as long as you have feelings for someone, especially for your ex, while you’re currently in a relationship, it feels like cheating to me.” he explains. “And seeing B like that, I just… I don’t want to see her that hurt ever again.”

Taehyun nods. “When you put it like that, Yeonjun definitely sounds guilty. And I have to agree that seeing B like that really just makes the whole Yeonjun and Rose thing a lot worse.” he says. “But B doesn’t seem to be bothered or anything. She looks very happy.”

Soobin nods. “Exactly. And you wanna know why? It’s cause she doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t remember seeing Yeonjun and Rose together, she doesn’t remember being absolutely heartbroken over seeing Yeonjun and Rose together, and she doesn’t know that Yeonjun and Rose kissed. Yeonjun didn’t tell her.”

“Are you serious?” Taehyun says, his tone still calm. This was one reason why Soobin enjoyed talking to Taehyun, he was always so calm, empathetic, non-judgmental, and logical. He felt like he could talk to him about anything without worry and he’d listen or give great advice if you needed it. “Yeonjun didn’t tell her anything?”

“Well, she mentioned that Yeonjun told her about seeing his ex at the club and he told her that he’d never see her again if it made B uncomfortable, but that’s about it.” Soobin says. “He didn’t tell her about the kiss, and it’s either because he didn’t want to, or…”

“…or he doesn’t remember it.” Taehyun finishes. “Have you talked to Yeonjun about it?”

Soobin shakes his head. “I’m finally taking your advice and keeping myself as far away from their relationship as possible. Heck, I was determined not to speak to either of them anymore, until B started talking to me in our Creative Writing class while Yeonjun was absent. And of course, I’m stuck with her as my partner for the rest of the term.” he sighs. “But I don’t know how I can survive this, I don’t think I can stand to talk to her and smile at her after seeing her so heartbroken over something she doesn’t even remember, after seeing Yeonjun kiss Rose and her not knowing about it. I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s definitely a tough one, Choi.” Taehyun remarks, taking a moment to think it over. “Okay, I’m going to assume that Yeonjun isn’t a complete jerk and that he didn’t tell B about the kiss because he didn’t remember it. Is Yeonjun still in the wrong? Yes, because he put himself in a situation with his ex. But is it a problem? For now, no. Because neither of them know about it, neither of them are currently affected by it. It will become a problem if B finds out about it from someone else, or if Yeonjun remembers the kiss and doesn’t tell her about it.”

“So what are you saying? That there’s no problem here?” Soobin asks, surprised by Taehyun’s verdict.

“Oh, there’s definitely a problem, but I’m just saying that right now, that problem is dormant since neither of them know about it. I’m saying that there’s nothing to deal with yet, since the problem is still dormant.” Taehyun says. “For now, they’re basically living the whole ignorance is bliss thing. Assuming that Yeonjun doesn’t remember, neither of them know about the kiss, therefore it isn’t a problem.”

“So basically it’ll only be a problem if B somehow finds out about it or if Yeonjun remembers it?” Soobin asks.

Taehyun nods. “Correct. If Yeonjun does end up remembering it, the problem will depend on whether or not he tells B about it.”

“So what am I supposed to do? I remember it, I know about it, I saw it, I saw everything. I don’t know what to do.” Soobin says, looking as confused as ever.

“Soobin, if I were you, I’d just sit this one out. It’s gonna be hard, but for now, you’re just gonna have to pretend that the problem doesn’t exist. If you tell either of them what you saw that night, it could only cause bigger problems. My advice for you remains the same, just try to keep yourself as far away from their relationship as possible. That doesn’t mean that you should avoid them, just be their friend but draw the line when it comes to their relationship.” Taehyun says.

“So I just pretend that I know nothing. Got it.” Soobin says, nodding once for covering his face with his hands and letting out a loud groan.

“Are you good now? Come on, we better get back or they’ll start wondering what’s taking us so long.” Taehyun asks.

“Wait, you haven’t told me about what happened to you last Saturday night. You said you kissed your crush! Who is it? How did it happen?” Soobin exclaims, suddenly remembering.

Taehyun laughs. “Maybe another time, Soobin.” he says with a mischievous smile, unlocking the door before leading the way out of the pantry, through the kitchen, and back to the table.

•°•

“Alright, I have to be home in 15 minutes and I still have to drop by B’s place to pick up my stuff, so we have to go now or else Lea will kill me!” Kai exclaims, seeing the text from his older sister.

B laughs, patting him on the back. “Alright, let’s get going then! Lucky for you, I live right across the street.” she says teasingly. “Tyunnie, you wanna walk home with us?”

Taehyun smiles but shakes his head. “No, I have to stay and help clean up today. You guys go ahead and be safe.” he politely declines.

Kai shrugs. “Alright, you be safe too. See you tomorrow!” he says, grabbing B’s arm and practically dragging her along with him as he rushes out of the café.

“I should probably go too, I’ve got a lot of homework to do. Whoever said that senior year would be a breeze was full of shit.” Soobin groans, looking through the checklist of tasks he had on his phone. “Gyu, you need a ride? I can drop you off along the way.” he offers.

Beomgyu shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got a quiz tomorrow, so I think I’ll just stay here and study for a bit.” he says, taking out some notebooks and pens from his school bag and laying them down on the table.

“Wow, I never knew you actually studied.” Soobin remarks, causing Beomgyu to snort. “Good luck with that then, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” he says, waving goodbye to Taehyun and Beomgyu.

For a while, the 2 of them sit alone at the table in silence. Beomgyu was reading through his notes, highlighting a few things along the way, while Taehyun sat across him, finishing up his 3rd glass of lemonade. As Taehyun’s glass becomes empty, he stands up and takes the glass with him. As he’s about to walk away from the table, he’s surprised when he feels someone grab his free hand, stopping him in his place.

He looks back and sees Beomgyu looking at him, his notes sprawled across the table, a sentence remained half highlighted as if Beomgyu stopped midway just to grab Taehyun’s hand before he left.

Which was exactly what he did.

“Yes?” Taehyun asks, turning to face the boy.

Beomgyu looks nervous for a moment, like he was doubting himself and as if he were starting to regret grabbing Taehyun’s hand, but then he takes a deep breath and says “Wait. Don’t go.”

“Why? I’m right here.” Taehyun says, raising a brow.

“I just—” Beomgyu starts, his breathe shaking as he looks down at his hand holding Taehyun’s before looking up at him again. “I think we need to talk.”

“About what?” Taehyun asks, even though he knew exactly what he meant.

“About last Saturday night.” Beomgyu says, his eyes closing as the memory crosses his mind for the millionth time. “About our kiss.”

Taehyun sighs. “Look, I already said it’s fine, you panicked and kissed me on the lips, it was just a stupid game, it was nothing.”

“You know that’s not the kiss I was talking about.” Beomgyu says, a different kiss on his mind. He remembered standing by the bar with Taehyun after game ended, laughing and apologizing about how he had panicked and kissed him on the lips. He remembered Taehyun telling him that it was fine and that there was no need for him to apologize. “And I didn’t panic.” He remembered taking a couple of shots with him, and they asked each other a question every time they took a shot. He remembered asking Taehyun if he minded that Beomgyu had kissed him on the lips, and he said no. He remembered Taehyun asking him if he wouldn’t mind doing it again, and he said no.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“So go ahead and kiss me, Choi.”

He remembered downing another shot and saying “Oh, what the hell.” Before taking Taehyun’s face in his hands for the second time that night, looking deep into his eyes to see if he really wanted it, before leaning in and letting their lips touch once again.

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Beomgyu asks, the memory playing in his mind over and over again.

Taehyun smiles, his heart melting at how unusually vulnerable the usually confident Beomgyu looked. “Alright.” he says, bending down to take a seat at the table, not letting go of his hand. “Let’s talk.”

•°•

Author’s note:

I know it’s a little late :c and I’m sorry cause I’ll be a lot busier these days bc life is suddenly moving again :c but :c Happy Yeonjun day!

25 notes · View notes

shardminds · 3 years

Text

okay i know in the grand scheme of things it’s been about 5 minutes since i got into spn and about 4.5 seconds since i started following spn blogs on tumblr but i just want 2 share some stuff re: what i would have liked to happen in my ideal ending. spoilers below.

number 1, sam and eileen endgame. after losing her in 15x18 and trying so hard to hold it together, sam’s quite obviously devvo’d. man’s a mess but he can’t let himself fall apart. 15x19 happens and everyone chuck disintegrated faster than communion wafers comes back and the FIRST thing sam does? calls eileen. high tails it out of there. speed limits who? there’s a heartwarming moment. maybe an ‘i love you’ or maybe not but it’s touching and heart wrenching and everyone cries and it’s nice. there you go, sam winchester. not only did you help save the world, but you got a happy ending in the process. eileen moves into the mol bunker. don’t @ me. she’s also great with miracle. and, in the long run, kids.

number 2, deancas. my whole thing is, if they didn’t want canon deancas ending, why have cas confess? like i get the empty deal and i understand ‘happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. it’s in just saying it’ but... if u didn’t want people to swarm on the possibility of deancas... why include it at all? especially for it to never be mentioned again. for cas, a man/angel/being of celestial intent that had spent like... 12(?) years at this point in sam and dean’s lives. you’re gonna tell me they just... let him sacrifice himself and then dip? ok. seems we have been watching different shows. or the same show from different perspectives. so, hear me out. dean says it back. maybe not in as many words or he pulls a hans solo ‘i know’. okay so they beat the shit out of The Literal Abrahamic God later to supercharge jack faster than shotgunning three monster energy mango locos ever could and leave chuck belly up in the mud like the invertebrate he proved himself to be and jack is Thee God now and dean just straight up asks. give that to me. give me the “please, jack.” and dean, so close to breaking, holding himself together with nothing but pure strength of will and residual adrenaline. give me jack’s reluctance, give me his admission of not wanting to mutate into the same megalomaniac chuck proved himself to be,using the winchesters as chess pieces in his own game. give me his humanity. the parts he inherited from kelly. give me his humanity and his grief and his loss and—castiel was his father, for fucks sake! he lost a father and a mother and he’s about to lose the only family he ever had. yes, he’ll be omnipresent—a perk of the job—but he’ll never be there in the way they want. so let him do this. there’s like a whole genesis parallel, you know all ‘the lord said let there be light, and there was light’ only not as on the nose as that. jack’s one selfish act before he himself, combined with amara, ascends. he does his whole speech. i’ll be in every drop of falling rain etc etc and then he dips. only, he’s gone and when dean turns around. cas is there. boom.

there’s no kiss. no explicit ‘hello look at this confirmed gay angel and his human hunter ??sexual friend making out’ because that too much too fast. dean has spent the past 15 seasons trying to unfuck himself from the damage john winchester left behind (the nun hunt on his 17th birthday? lebanon? i will meet john winchester in the pit.) and as close as he is to finally just allowing himself to be himself, he’s not quite there yet. but the relief on his face. the—i’m gonna say it—love in his expression. cas’s confession clearly affected him, just look at 15x18. maybe dean doesn’t know what that means yet. maybe he does. but there’s a hug. an embrace. one of those that says ‘i don’t know why or how i like you, fruity little angel man, but i do and i’m not letting go’. it lasts a beat too long. maybe there’s tears. i’ll leave that up to jackles jacting joices.

number 3, michael sacrifices himself to save adam. OKAY SO THE WHOLE MICHAEL STORYLINE IN 15x19? BULLSHIT. especially with the adamichael scene in 15x08? where it is canonically confirmed that, after spending a real life decade (which is OVER ONE THOUSAND YEARS in hell time. 4 months = 40 years so 10 years or 120 months = 1200 years) trapped in the cage together, they became friends and shared control of the vessel. michael considered adam his guide on earth. michael. MICHAEL. M I C H A E L. seeing how spn painted him as one of, if not, THE most powerful and fearsome angel? man’s whipped. and then he loses adam when chuck has his thanos snap moment. imagine sharing a vessel with someone for twelve. hundred. years. and then being completely alone in a world you don’t know. how maddening for there to be only silence in your head. the fact that they then rammed this bs of him being jealous of lucifer for being ‘daddy’s favourite’ was exactly that. bullshit. no no no, my friends. michael was playing his own game; crossing the winchesters for chuck but actually, crossing chuck for his own gain. he learns of the winchesters plan to utilise the fact that jack is the power hungry equivalent of a shamwow and uses that to his own gain. i haven’t figured out the particulars but when chuck beats the shit out of michael, he kills the angel but leaves the vessel (think like jack at the end of s14). michael the winchesters think michael died a snivelling god fearing soldier. and then, when jack does his whole thing, up wakes adam. the winchesters take him in and explain what went down when he, you know. and adam lets them know that no, michaels not like that etc etc he did it for me etc he did it to save me. michael’s fall was imperative to the destruction of god. and, for that, he will always be remembered. adam’s not a hunter, but he stays at the bunker anyway. he has nowhere else to go.

number 4, episode 15x20. what do you mean dean and sam both die? not in this universe i carry inside my head they don’t! this episode is just a bunch of scenes from throughout the years. you might think it boring but i think it’s great and this is my post so u can’t tell me what 2 do. dean opens up a bar for hunters a la 14x10 and has pictures on all the walls of all the fallen hunters and friends that have helped them throughout the years. you want a picture on the wall for a friend you lost? sure! just bring a photo and tack it on up there. out of sight, kept to the wall of the office, they keep pictures of the non-humans that helped. it’s private. a reminder. sam and eileen stop by a couple times a week if they can. jody and donna make the rounds with the girls too if work allows. or they come on their own. the girls are old enough to take care of themselves now. claire pops in when she can, always bringing a present for cas (despite him reprimanding her for doing so) and dean is always happy to see her. she doesn’t text enough.

sam sets up the bunker as a base for hunters again, trying to get a system up and running like before where hunters can check in and get help and use the weapons and resources they have for cases.

they don’t deal with heaven anymore. they haven’t seen jack since he disappeared but they also haven’t had any angel troubles either. maybe it’s because there are so few. castiel helps a lot as he still has his grace—although he’s still unable to teleport and he seems to be aging, trapped in some kind of space between. not angel and not human and definitely not nephilim. he’s powerful and powerless at the same time. he doesn’t complain about this, knowing what it means. it’s a kindness.

rowena is also on side, mostly, although she has her own gain in mind always. they have the stray demon that pops up every now and again but she– uh... prefers to make an example of them using her own methods. sam has learned not to question it. she teases him incessantly, as usual.

also, stay at home dad sam. eileen jumps back into hunting. they’ve had conversations—arguments—about it before. he doesn’t want to turn into his father, driven mad chasing mary’s ghost if something were to happen. she refuses to even entertain the thought of that. yelling “you are a lot of things, sam winchester. your father is not one of them.” and at the end of the day, there’s a mutual trust there and he knows she won’t put herself in unnecessary risk, and he 100% roped dean in to jumping on as backup if and when she needs it. the kid(s) are raised love and cherished and surrounded by family. sam also learns how to sign one handed with a baby on his hip. it’s adorable.

anyway we never have to find out about heaven because no one dies thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#spn #i don't wanna talk about it but i do #was gonna put this under a cut but am not a pussy #anyway if you can't tell im a dean coded dean girl

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merlivystories · 4 years

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not over, never over (trixya)

Just a short fic about one particular friendship that overcomes the struggles of addiction created with help of my humble imagination and inspired by Trixie & Katya. Enjoy! xx

Trixie’s life has been pretty much the same for the past few months. He would go on tour, do shows, perform his music on stage, make instagram posts and tweet from time to time, receiving nothing but waves of admiration and love from the fans. His life has been the same, except for one piece missing. It felt like he had one piece of a puzzle gone and it’s absence spoiled the ability to fully enjoy the process since he wasn’t able to see the whole picture anymore. That would cause him to forget words to his own songs, cry in almost every dressing room in every city on the tour, constantly make spelling mistakes or leave out words on social media. The craving was slowly ruining him from the inside, sucking out his energy, keeping his mood down and his heart aching. That missing piece was, of course, one particular russian high-class whore - Katya, also known as his madly insane but utterly amazing best friend - Brian McCook. Or as Trixie was quite sure of lately, his former best friend.

No one ever said being close to Katya was a piece of cake, it was, actually, the opposite of that most of the times. The man was unstable, had an addictive personality and an endless amount of terrifying stories from his past he just had to share with Trixie. He could be loud one minute and then suddenly quiet the next one, he hardly ever allowed himself to talk about his real feelings, trying to disguise truth as jokes. But Trixie couldn’t help but loved him. They were naturally drawn to each other, sharing the same sense of humor and feeling comfortable while spending time together. Trixie often wondered if Katya could see all the things he loved him for, he was sure though, Katys was aware of all the things he loved him despite of. Their friendship was Trixie’s greatest strength and biggest weakness at the same time. People around them would say they were joined at the hip, and that has been absolutely true for a few years post season 7 of Drag Race. It was almost perfect, till it wasn’t anymore.

The first time Trixie learned about Katya’s multiplе addictions was when the two of them were working together with Pearl and Fame on one of the earliest episodes of RPDR. Trixie saw something small and round falling out of his pocket when he was pulling the jeans on. Katya followed his glance and hurried to pick it up, but Trixie knew for sure what that thing was. Sobriety chip. His mother’s boyfriend had a lot of those.

- Alcohol? Drugs? - He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask, if the two of them were close enough to share real stuff, but he did anyways.

- Both, actually. It’s been a year and a half. I’m better now. - Katya smiled at him weakly, shoving the chip back inside.

- You know you can talk to me if you feel like it. Anytime, I’m there for you. - Trixie said in a serious tone. He caught Katya’s wandering gaze, trying his best to let the older queen know he wasn’t kidding, not this time. Katya just grabbed his palm and squeezed it in response. He knew and he appreciated that.

Afterwards they got closer and Trixie spent hours of his life listening to stories about Katya’s addictive past. He would listen to them over the phone, in a cafe while eating eggs with a salad on the side, while applying his makeup before the gig and in a dark alley filled with cigarette smoke he could barely stand after a gig, also in hotel rooms, on WOW Presents set, on buses and on airplanes. Simply put: he would listen to those stories everywhere. But he never got tired of it. On the contrary, Trixie was completely fascinated. Katya managed to make it all sound amusing, he has always been amazing at turning tragedy into comedy. However, from time to time Trixie looked at Katya’s face for a little too long and wondered how he’s still alive and breathing. This is what should be called the eighth wonder of the world. At first, right after the both of them just started working together post Drag Race, Trixie would catch himself being worried about Katya’s well-being and wondering whether he could take all the pressure without breaking down. But it has been a few years and Katya always rose up to every occasion, ready and totally able to entertain. And just as Trixie was about to let it go and finally breath out, everything exploded right in his face.

To be honest, it wasn’t that horrible. The older queen has seemed erratic and distant for a couple of weeks. Trixie tried to talk about it but got nothing more than irritated «I’m fine-fine, stop huffing around me, Tracy!» out of him. One day Katya just didn’t show up on the set of their «Trixie & Katya» tv-show and didn’t pick up his phone (Trixie called like fifty times, all in vain). On his way to the hotel where Katya was staying, he texted that he was going to come see him. And finally got a reply: «Don’t you dare coming over. I quit. I don’t want to see you ever again.» Trixie came over anyway, he has never been much of a listener. Katya was gone, checked out of his room a few hours ago. But he left a note on the reception: just a small piece of paper. It said «to Brian F» on one side and «Trixya is over!» on the other side. Well, maybe it was horrible.It definitely hurt like hell. Trixie felt confused, betrayed, disappointed and mad. As soon as he managed to pull himself together, he called Patricia, searching for any reasonable explanation: she told him Brian was using again, she said he came home a total mess, she apologized over and over, promised it was all going to get better after rehab and begged not to call quits on her son. Trixie had no intentions to do so. Katya wasn’t the enemy here, his addiction, on the other hand, was.

Since that moment the younger queen stepped back from the situation, put it all on pause. Their relationships, their dreams and his feelings as well. Katya stopped returning his calls for good. Trixie blamed it on addiction. Katya unfollowed him on every social media he could. Trixie blamed it on addiction. Katya’s first text to him after a long silence was about how much he hated him on the first episode of All Stars 3. Trixie blamed it on addiction. He heard rumors about Katya talking shit about their friendship behind his back. Trixie blamed it on addiction. Never blaming any of it on Katya. He kept shoving his feelings into the farthest, darkest corner of his soul the way Katya shoved that sobriety chip into the pocked of his jeans. Mostly, he could get by days just fine: not to take spelling mistakes, forgotten lyrics on stage and tearing up in dressing rooms into account. But not a single night was spent without missing his best friend, not being able to dial his number and just babble about his life, going on and on about the troubles, feeling “the weight of existing” being lifted off his shoulders slowly. He reminded himself constantly that the whole situation was way worse for Katya, that he is the one who should be strong and patient, that all of it (all of them) was going to be back one day. Could he say the last one for sure? Not at all. Making attempts at predicting things that depended on him only partially seemed stupid, but he simply couldn’t deny himself that whatsoever fleeting tranquility.

It’s been more than half of the year and Trixie’s heart started to heal. He knew no one could ever replace Katya, people don’t really get so lucky in life as to meet soulmates every few years. Nothing depended on him anyway, it was all about Katya fighting his demons and probably winning. Deep down Trixie knew he was going to be alright as long as his friend got to feel better. Thought it wasn’t easy to pretend like it didn’t bother him at all that his next show was in Boston, in a theater just an hour away from McCook’s family house. Nothing else mattered as long as he had the chance to put all his worries aside and do what he loved doing the most: dressing up and putting on makeup, creating a full country-Barbie fantasy and singing his own songs from the stage. How lucky he was to only spot two painfully familiar piercing blue eyes staring at him from the audience right before closing the show? Extremely lucky. Trixie didn’t trust his vision at first, but the truth was - Katya, out of drag, sitting in the audience, wearing skinny black jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, showing his arms all covered in newly done tattoos. Their eyes met and the younger queen felt himself being on the verge of heart-attack. Katya got up from his place, pointing backstage with a silent question in his eyes. Trixie nodded almost invisibly and rushed from the stage.

Just a couple of minutes after getting into his dressing room, Trixie heard knocking on the door. His heard was racing so fast it could totally fall out of his chest any second now. He turned the knob with a shaking hand, pulled it and there was Katya standing on the other side with a paper bag in his also shaking hand, visibly sweating and looking extremely uncomfortable.

- Can I come in, please? - Katya asked in a low voice. Trixie stepped to the back of the room, letting him in. - I brought you brownies. I figured you would be hungry after the show. - Trixie suppressed a smile. Mixed feelings were tearing him apart from the inside. It wasn’t right to be in that much pain and so relieved at the same time. Katya seemed normal, he seemed himself. But this fact didn’t erase all those months spent in darkness and total abandonment, without his best friend. He took the bag and thanked the older man. Katya came close to a mirror, looking at the younger queen standing behind him through it. Then there was silence, usually comfortable between the two of them, but this time it seemed unbearable. Trixie couldn’t help but wondered if things would ever be the same again, if the damage this falling out caused their friendship was irreversible or not.

- I like your tattoos. - Trixie finally spoke up, carefully trying to defuse the situation. He caught Katya’s eyes in the reflection. The older queen was smiling.

- Thank you, Tracy. - Katya replied softly and turned around, facing Trixie and leaning on the dressing table with his legs crossed. - I’m glad you let me in here today. I would be even more glad if you agreed to hear me out. Can you grant me some of your time? - Trixie had never even once in his life heard Katya speaking in such way: calmly, steadily and confidently.

- Sure, I’m all years. - The younger queen nodded. He sat on the little white leather coach in the corner of the room and streached out his lean legs. He was still in drag and his feet were killing him from jumping around the stage in high-heals for the past couple of hours. Katya probably noticed the glimpse of discomfort on his face.

- Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have let you get out of drag first. So fucking inconsiderate of me. We can meet in the alley behind the theater in 30. Is that okay with you? - He looked genuinely worried and Trixie was secretly relieved to postpone this conversation, even for half an hour. Definitely wasn’t going to be an easy one.

- That would be great, thanks. - It came out a little cold. He didn’t aspire to sound this way, but it did. Katya retired immediately, leaving Trixie alone with his thoughts.

It exactly 28 minutes Trixie in his boy-clothes went out the back door and found himself in a pretty dark alley. Katya was standing under the only streetlight in sight, looking down intently and tracing lines with his right feet.

- Hey. - Trixie called out and the older guy lifted his head, smiling.

- How are you never late? - He asked, staring at the watch on his hand. Katya was that type of an “old person” that barely ever had his phone around, but this simple black-strap watch was literally glued to his wrist all the time he was out of drag.

- The same way you are always late! No logical way to explain this. - Katya wheezle-laughed and it hit Trixie how much he missed the sound of that awful, stupid, infectious and painfully familiar laughter.

- Well, I guess you can hear me out now. - Katya said quietly, not a trace of a smile on his face, when the younger queen came closer. Trixie nodded, feeling the heartbeat fastening. Come what may, he thought. - I came to talk to you today because I’ve been told I was ready. To be honest, it doesn’t feel like “ready” to me. - Katya shook his head and took a deep breath. He was staring at the ground intensively while Trixie was dying to look him in the eyes. - However, I believe I will never feel ready enough for this. I’m not good at sincere and emotional conversations, you know that better than anyone, Tracy. - Trixie could feel tears coming up, oh, how much he hated being this vulnerable in front of Katya in that moment. - I came to apologize, - the older man finally found a courage to look up and their eyes met, - there are not enough words in the world to express how sorry I am for hurting you, for ruining what we’ve had. I understand it’s bold of me to just show up out of the blue and expect you to forgive me instantaneously. - His voice was shaking and Trixie noticed the way he digged his nails into his own hip. - If I’m being completely honest, I can’t even promise you not to go nuts ever again. Most of the times I can control it, but sometimes those voices in my head get too loud and I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore. Though I can ensure you, as long as I am myself, I will always consider you my best friend. So I kind of came here to ask you for something I knew I didn’t deserve at the first place. For you to be a part of my life again. - At that point, Trixie was dead-ass ugly crying, his cheeks all wet from tears and his nose running. The older man was crying, too. The way he somehow always managed to look beautiful when he cried happened to be an unsolved mystery. - I can’t promise you perfection, I won’t promise that. But I for sure will try my best to be a better person, a better friend to you, if you let me. - Katya reached out and stroked Trixie’s shoulder just once, obviously doubting whether it was a good idea to do so. - Also, nothing drag-related. I’m aware you can’t rely on me career-wise and with a lot of done work and money on stake, there’s no reason you should trust me again. I wrote it myself: Trixya is over. - He went silent and froze like a convict who has said his final words, waiting for the verdict of the judge. Trixie was overwhelmed with the emotions, struggling to speak back. So instead he grabbed the older man’s arm and pulled him into the embrace. Katya wrapped his both arms around the younger queen lightly, not quite sure about what exactly was going on.

- I don’t need perfection, - Trixie finally whispered, - I just need you. - Katya breathed out loudly into his shoulder, feeling relaxed and excited at the same time. - Also, - Trixie pulled back a little so he could see the older guy’s face, still holding his forearms in his hands, - Trixya is not over. We both know, it is never over. - Katya only smiled and nodded, not even trying to figure out anymore how he got so fucking lucky to call the guy in front of him a friend.

#RuPaul's Drag Race #trixya #trixya fanfiction #yekaterina petrovna zamolodchikova #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #brian firkus #brian mccook #olya merlivy fics

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thebridgehqs · 4 years

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One day, there is blinding sunshine and you can’t spend an hour outside without getting a bit burnt in the heat. The next, the rain has come back with a bitterly cold wind that gets into your bones. The seasons have changed, and with it, Halloween is quickly approaching. All over the city, things are happening, and not all of them can be explained.

See under the cut for a list of Halloween events that are running, some all month, and others just for the spookiest night of the year.

ooc information:

Threads can start any time, but we ask that people do not post event starters past Friday the 13th of November, to bookend the spooky season. Of course, you can take as long as you’d like to continue threads after that.

Please tag any open starters with thebridge: halloween and the location of the starter to make it easier for other players.

CBD:

Platinum Cinema is airing a different scary movie every day of the month and offers a five percent discount on concessions for anyone dressed up. That discount goes up to ten percent if you are dressed as a character from the movie you’re seeing. Don’t ask how they got movies that weren’t made in this time, that’s not a question you want answered.

The Jolly Roger is offering pirate cruises around the harbour. The crew are all pirates – some of them even real pirates – and they’ll teach you how to swordfight if you ask nicely. If you cause trouble, you’ll really walk the plank, so don’t wear a costume that might weigh you down. If you have a little magic to spare, the captain might even arrange for a flight cruise over the city itself.

The Rocks:

Ghost tours are running every night of the month, starting through the Rocks but leading through other parts of the city to showcase the true and often horrifying history of the city. The thing is, the tour guides, they don’t seem to be real, exactly, and you’ll come away wondering where the ghosts really were.

The Roadhouse is not the type of place ghosts are welcome. You’ll notice the tour guides stay well away from it, but for any people who do go in, there is a chance for a free drink. If you can tell a scary story that impresses owner Jo Harvelle, your next round is free. But fair warning, she does expect realism.

Want a stunning costume and a guarantee you won’t look exactly like someone else? Marinette Dupain-Cheng has rented out a room here in the Rocks and offers a cheap tailoring service if you’ve bought a costume that doesn’t quite fit, and a more exclusive costume design service where she’ll make you a one of a kind costume.

Darling Point:

Crimson Rooftop is well known for being a classy place, and Halloween is no exception. On the night of Halloween itself, they are offering a free drink with dinner to guests who are dressed as classic characters, nothing gaudy or foolish. There are also rumours that the meals might even just magically appear on your plate.

Harry Osborn has issued an open invitation to a masquerade party at his manor on Halloween night. It is hardly the only party going on that night, even in Darling Point as well, but it will be a fancy night for all guests.

King’s Cross:

Ember’s Club has decorated appropriately for the month, and the dancers have changed costumes for the month to get into the spirit – absolutely no pun intended, no matter what you might see around the place.

On Halloween, Club Loophole will be exclusive to Arcadia members for the night, with the mysterious leader hosting a party for only the gang itself. Costumes are optional but highly encouraged, and everyone knows better that to disappoint the leader.

In contrast to their well-known rivals, The Phantom is opening their doors to everyone, and making a point of it. They’ll also be holding a costume competition – the person with the best costume in the club at midnight will get their tab paid off, meaning they drink free.

The Whiskey Chef is offering thematic drinks with their meals all month, and on Halloween, they’re offering a lucky raffle. If your name is called out, you’ll dine free.

If you want to party and you’re okay with the odd displays of magic, but don’t want to go somewhere too crazy, then why not stop by Magnus Bane’s party? Please dress up, whether that means just dressing nicely or in a costume, but a good time is guaranteed to be had – if you don’t drink the wrong thing.

Newtown:

One street, popular with university students, is running a series of haunted houses. Some of these are exactly what you’d expected from a bunch of students, while others are more innovative and use creative technology for bigger scares. And if it so happens that maybe some Weirdsister students got involved in the fun to make their house the spookiest, well, it’s all in good fun.

On the night known by most as Halloween, the university campus will find it much harder to deny the allegations that there is a secret magical campus hidden within the school. To fit the actual season of the southern hemisphere, a Beltane feast will be held on the 30th, and it’ll magically appear on the university grounds for all to enjoy. There will be many traditional events surrounding the feast, such as a bonfire, and it will last from sunset on the 30th to sunset on the 31st, where all traces will magically disappear again.

Ever wanted to learn your future? Ron Weasley is offering the chance for you to find out. If you can find him in the haunted houses in the whole week leading Halloween, he’ll take you aside and tell your future. He doesn’t guarantee you’ll like what he tells you, or that it’ll make sense, but it will be true.

Bondi:

Over the weekend before Halloween itself, Bondi will host a series of competitions during the sunny days of the weekend. To enter, you must compete in a costume the entire time. For each competition, you are scored, and the winner of each round gets a free dinner for two at the Beach House, located right on the waterfront, and the ultimate winner gets $1000. The competition includes: a 5km race, surfing, a 5km swim, weightlifting, and long jump. It is possible to just compete in one round and not the whole thing, but you’d lose the chance of the final prize.

It’s not strictly allowed to host parties on the beach, not that it stops smaller gatherings which go ignored. However, it’ll be impossible to ignore the fantastic display put on by Rose Weasley. With fireworks, bonfires, and plenty of alcohol, this party is sure to end up with more than a little trouble by the time it’s over.

Balmain:

Interested in something family friendly? Well, Balmain is closing off several streets to make a safe zone for children to go trick or treating without worrying about traffic. Each house along those streets will have appropriate décor – nothing too scary for the little ones – and plenty of candy to give away.

One street will also be holding a street party on All Hallows Eve, where everyone is invited. It’s potluck, so consider bringing something to share. There’ll also be dancing, but the party will be over by 1am.

Parramatta:

Just outside Parramatta, a large field has been turned into a drive-in theatre. Every day of the month, they’re showing family friendly Halloween movies, and after sunset, the movies are truly horror movies. It doesn’t matter if the movies are from another time, or if characters see their stories played out on the screen, it’s free and it’s fun.

Also just outside Parramatta, Rohirrim Stables is offering spooky horse rides, led by owner Eowyn. Bring a picnic lunch or dinner, depending what time you come by, if you dare to eat in the middle of the woods.

Liverpool:

One farm just outside Liverpool has been turned into a delightfully spooky maze. There are some people who come out of it saying that there are impossible creatures inside the maze, but… at least they got to leave the maze.

Inspired by a legend of a nearby suburb, Liverpool is holding a festival. There will be performers entertaining the crowds, a couple of rides that should certainly not exist in the 20’s, and a parade of spooky costumes. It’s family friendly, and also very popular for daredevils who want to go on the rides.

Note: if you want your muse to win any of the competitions running at any of the locations, please message Admin Mac. You can also message Admin Mac if you want to add any events that are open to muses, whether at someone’s home or their business.

#thebridge: announcement #thebridge: event #thebridge: halloween

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ladyfawkes · 4 years

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Stop Calling Him ‘Horace’! - Eugene Fitzherbert Appreciation Week | Day 7: Birth Day

Sooooo.... Basically, I planned to have this pretty little fanfic finished up for today, the final day of Eugene Appreciation Week. This fanfic is extra-special, specifically it features our Eugene at ages we’ve never seen him in canon. Allow me to sum up this “plan” of mine in one word: HAAAAA!!!! Suffice it to say that although fanfic is very old-hat to me (I’ve been writing it since 1991, fgs) the world of fic-blogging is still relatively NEW to me and several of my fics and headcanons that I’ve released the past several weeks are needing to connect and soon, otherwise the whole convoluted, many-headed Medusa won’t wind up making any sense at all. I’m not exactly certain how it’ll all come together yet but I have to say that getting to spend the past week with all of you fellow Fitzy enthusiasts on Twitter and Tumblr has been some of the BEST DAYS EVER that I’ve experienced on the internet in my entire online life!!!! (And I’ve had an internet presence since 1991!!!) You’ve injected me with serious shots of Inspiration Elixir and I’ve had soooo very many ideas pass through my mind just over the past 7 days that I can’t possibly hope to catalog all of them. I haven’t felt quite this inspired in, well, YEARS. I’ve enjoyed the heck out of sharing and exchanging headcanons, theories, ideas, essays, and even artforms. I’ve had a Tumblr account for more than ELEVEN YEARS and yet this is the first and only time I have consistently blogged and reblogged over the “heart-stopping” a time-span of 7 months **gasp** now (and counting). I’m a member of a couple dozen fandoms at least and this is the ONLY ONE that has consistently captured my interest AND managed to not scare the shit out of me so badly that I have to go and hibernate my account for the next, y’know, 3498349540 months. Until yet another worthy obsession captures my interest..... but Tangled the Series is still burning the brightest and I REALLY need it to right now, tbh. So THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everybody with whom I’ve interacted on this....I have health issues that cause me to transpose and forget names. But if you wish me to personally tag you, please tag THIS particular post and I shall tag you when I have actually finished this particular scene sequence featured in THIS ficlet. So now!!!!! Without further ado, I shall give you a teaser of the drabble-turned-ficlet-turned-short-story that will eventually feature the actual Birth Day of one Eugene Fitzherbert!!! Click the keep reading link below to see the remaining text. =)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Edmund knew from the beginning that Alexys did not like the name “Horace”. At the time, the king had told her that it was family tradition that the first-born son should receive a strong family name. Despite her pointed protests, he was utterly immovable on the subject.

The more Alexys’s belly grew, the more her dislike for that name swelled too. Shouldn’t she have a say in their child’s name, given that she was putting in all the work of keeping him healthy and strong, so to speak? Shouldn’t her family names count as possibilities too? Unfortunately, Edmund’s childhood largely consisted of his father and grandfather basically hazing him into believing that he had to “take command” of virtually any subject matter, in practically any situation. As a result, he thought of just about everything in militaristic terms. Over the past 4 years, Lexy had slowly and subtly molded her hot-headed young 20-something husband toward different healthier, less uptight ways of handling life and looking at various situations.

They had finally settled on a great couple synergy and got along very well -- except for the times they had an ongoing argument, that is. And this was definitely one of those times.

“I don’t understand why you won’t see reason, Edmund!”

“Because it’s more than just a name, Alexys! It’s a birthright. It connects him directly back to us and these names might very well be the most important gift we could ever give to our children!”

“You don’t think I know that?? Just as sure as I know this child is a boy, I am equally certain that he will not live a traditional royal life. And his name must reflect that!!”

Apparently, entertaining the possibility that any son of Edmund’s wouldn’t want to grow up a devoted soldier completely servile to the Moonstone wasn’t a possibility he was ready to face. Alexys watched as Edmund drew in a long breath, held it, his face turning interesting colors. Slowly his hands balled into fists and rather than saying anything, he exhaled one very pent-up breath and stomped out of the room. She had never before seen him so agitated. Although she also sensed the naming subject wasn’t at the core of his ire that day, she never brought it up again. Alexys hoped that whatever it was eating at him, Edmund would be able to solve it by the time their child came. And that would happen any day now.

Alexys wanted so much to tell Edmund about the beautiful vivid dreams she’d been having about their future child the past few nights. But he’d been increasingly preoccupied, sullen, and distant over the past month. It was most unfortunate and Alexys was as yet at a loss of how to help him. Now....while it’s true every good mother believes their child to be exceptional, Alexys knew that their son was destined to shatter tradition. For the first time in millennia, she knew without doubt that he would be the one to bring light to the Dark Kingdom.

One of her dreams began with a small boy, age 4 or 5, who had floppy brown hair and very expressive round eyes just like Edmund. In the dream, Alexys and the boy were standing on a trail near the edge of a narrow rock crevasse....a location that somehow seemed familiar to Lexy....but she couldn’t quite place it. The little boy smiled up at her cherubically and reached out a chubby little hand toward hers.

“Play?” he questioned sweetly. He was happily bouncing on his feet, very subtly heel to toe, and even when he was in one place he barely stood still.

“Yes, of course!” Alexys replied, grinning in awe at this absolutely beautiful dream-child her mind was currently conjuring. She gathered up her long skirts and petticoats in her left hand and took the little boy’s offered hand in her right. As they walked, she noticed a small mole at the base of the boy’s neck and it matched exactly the one that Edmund had, only in miniature. So her suspicions had been confirmed; this was indeed their son. They approached what Alexys recognized to be a very-scaled-down version of The Great Tree....and the crevasse was apparently a much-scaled-down version of the gorge which held the actual Great Tree. Even though it wasn’t the real Tree, it still possessed a very substantial and robust trunk. It was about 30 feet high and could easily withstand the weight of a couple dozen grown adults, if they ever had the inclination to climb this dream tree from within my own mind, Alexys thought wryly. As they reached the ground level of this miniature Great Tree, the little boy let go of her hand and latched onto the tree base itself. He turned back to her and said, “Play?” again while pointing upward. Bounce, bounce. Instantly, Lexy’s mothering instincts came out. “Uh, little one, I don’t think it’s safe to climb--” but it was clear the little boy wasn’t really listening to her. And even faster than a real toddler could climb, he scrambled up and out of her reach in a flash, giggling with childish abandon. She kept pleading with this child to stop and to come back down instead, that he might get injured, but he clearly had no intention of heeding her. Not only that, she didn’t even know his name. One thing was certain -- he definitely did not answer to ‘Horace’. Poor Alexys hoped this nightmare of a fearless toddler wasn’t an omen of things yet to come. She fleetingly considered just tearing off her petticoats and skirts to climb and then realized it wouldn’t matter anyway; she was nearly nine months pregnant and thus not climbing anything that day. “Look!” She suddenly heard the little boy’s voice again. This time, he was speaking from some 30 feet overhead through the tree boughs. Alexys moved away from the Great Tree’s base to a better vantage point further out from the trunk. Shielding her eyes from the sun, the queen looked up at the tree to see that the little boy was now pointing out toward the opposite direction of the crevasse from where they originally came. In the distance, she could see what looked to be a miniature version of the impassable mountain range between the Dark Kingdom and the Great Tree. Just beyond was Black Crystal Valley and in the center of the valley, an exact copy of The Dark Palace, only much smaller. What happened next was nothing short of absolute surreality on toast. “Look!” said the little boy’s voice again, still giggling as he climbed even higher until it looked like he was physically standing on the canopy leaves of the fake Great Tree. Lexy’s breath caught in her throat as this little boy reached up and plucked a literal piece out of the sun -- yes, he plucked a PIECE out of the actual SUN -- straight out of the actual sky. The light emanating from the Sun and the Shard he had in hand didn’t seem to be affecting the little boy the way it was affecting Alexys. She was shielding her face from its overpowering brightness when suddenly, the little boy wasn’t in the tree canopy anymore. In the blink of an eye, he was standing miraculously in front of her. Alexys blinked incredulously and tried not to yell aloud in shock due to being so startled. She failed at not yelling, but at least the little boy didn’t appear to notice. Next, this little boy held out the Sun Shard toward Lexy. He must’ve done something to help it because now she could look toward its brilliance without being blinded. “You can finally see my friend!” her boy said happily. Bounce, bounce. “We hug her!” he continued, holding the glowing object against his heart, rocking back and forth a few times. “And we kiss her,” and he gave the Shard his sweet toddler kisses. “And we be very soft,” he toddler-whispered, demonstrating deft touch through voice as well as action.“Now you!” he insisted, his pudgy hand offering the Sun Shard to her. Bouncy, bouncy, bounce. “I -- I don’t know. Won’t it burn me?” This dream had already gone so warped, she didn’t feel too weird for asking. Lexy was somewhat concerned with accepting the offerings of a toddler but he didn’t appear to be covered in slobber or any other mystery substances, thank goodness. Neither did the Shard. “Burn you?” the child echoed. He suddenly burst into giggles and said, “Silly Mama.” Lexy’s breath caught in her throat. Mama. He actually said it! How her mother’s heart fluttered. This….this interaction required something extra special. She oh-so-carefully got down on her knees (no small feat in her condition) so she could be level with her son. “Yes, your mama can be very silly sometimes,” Lexy acknowledged. Then she pointed toward the Shard in his hands and said, “Will you show me how?” Instantly, he came to her and passed the precious glowing object to Alexys. “Hold her here,” instructed her little boy, pointing toward his heart. Lexy was surprised to discover that the Shard wasn’t a shard at all -- and while it was very warm to the touch, it wasn’t burning hot. Pliable with only mild bit of give to it….rather like warmed sealing wax without the tackiness. Upon tucking the glowing object next to her bosom, Lexy looked upward at her boy and said, “and now I…” “Cradle,” followed by his rapid rocking back and forth motions. Bouncy-bounce bounce. “Of course,” smiled Alexys, who had arranged both her arms to cradle this golden drop of sunlight. “Is that what you are now? Not a Shard -- but a Drop of Sunlight?” She was now talking to this object but again didn’t feel one bit silly for doing so. It seemed….alive, somehow. Slowly, carefully, she rocked back and forth while on her knees. “Sing, mama!” prompted her little boy, who was excitedly bouncing on his toes and clapping his chubby hands. A time-honored German lullaby sprang to mind and as she sang the words, the longer she sang, something rather remarkable happened. As Alexys looked down in her arms, she could’ve sworn she saw a ghost of an image, not more than a sparkling golden shadow really, of a completely different child in her arms. Only this child was much tinier and younger than the boy. This was an infant, a baby girl, one with remarkably long flowing golden hair. She appeared to have even more hair than her toddler son. By orders of magnitude more. Disembodied babygirl giggling and babbles filled the air around them. “You see her now!!!” Her little boy was more excited than ever! He clearly knows! Lexy could hear the rhythm of his feet in front of her. Bounce-bounce-bouncy bounce-bouncy-bounce. Alexys was afraid to look away, lest the wispy golden dust in her arms blow away before she could get her fill. “Who is she?” questioned Alexys in awe. “She is our friend. She is….Sun...shine. Yes. Sunshine,” the boy confirmed, tilting his head to one side as he spoke, as if he were listening for something only he could hear. ......to be continued!!!!......

#Eugene appreciation week #Eugene Fitzherbert appreciation week #fanfiction #fic #ficlet #WIP #eugene fitzherbert #dark queen #king edmund #ladyfawkes eugene fanfiction #ladyfawkes fanfiction

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aleapoffaithfiction · 4 years

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XVI.

"You will manage to keep a woman in love with you, only for as long as you can keep her in love with the person she becomes when she is with you." C. JoyBell

Rockin' around the Christmas tree, let the Christmas spirit ring. Later we'll have some pumpkin pie, and we'll do some caroling…

Naturally, my own vocals lightly meshed in with those of Brenda Lee while my head bopped back and forth to the infectious Christmas tune as it blared from the Beats Pill, I gifted to my mother a couple of months ago. To take advantage of the majority of my weight being pressed against the kitchen island, I slowly flexed my toes and extended my aches in an effort to minimize the throbbing in my feet. Short hisses turned into a deep sigh of bliss but unfortunately it was short lived once I grasped a knife in my hand again.

“Pass me two stalks of celery out of that bag, please.” My precise instructions were pointless. With her eyes intently focused on the phone in front of her, Celeste aloofly tossed the plastic bag in my direction as if I were a nuisance interrupting the ridiculous number of hours she spends interacting on Facebook. If anything, I avoid it, because once you reach a certain age, Facebook is nothing more than a scroll fest filled with engagement and pregnancy announcements, weddings and post-birth pictures, garbage hot takes from people about the most trivial of topics, and finally older relatives who have nothing better to do other than to be in everyone’s business, including yours.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” If she’s not going to be in the kitchen either helping me or doing something of her own, then the better choice would be for her to exit. She hasn’t been much company because we’re barely spoken since she arrived and I’d rather not be distracted by her sitting there in a trance with a phone in her hand like a mindless teen.

“Not really. You always do Christmas Eve, I do Christmas breakfast, and mommy does Christmas dinner. Don’t act brand new now.”

“I’m not acting brand new. I just see no point in you being in here.” Celeste does Christmas breakfast because it’s the easiest task to handle and I don’t have much of a problem pushing her dry ass pancakes around on a plate in anticipation for dinner later on the evening.

“For someone who claims to be so demure in the manner that you carry yourself, I’m super confused about why you have streams of diamonds glistening and circling around your neck.”

“What?” Thoughtlessly, I stretched my unoccupied hand up to the exposed skin and lightly brushed my fingers over nearly sixty carats of brilliant round cut diamonds that do not belong to me.

The manner in which O layers his many necklaces always grabs my attention and it’s something about the showiness in the midst of the simplicity of them that I continue to compliment whenever I see him donning them. This morning, for whatever reason, he randomly placed two of them around my neck as I stood in the mirror attempting to figure out just how festive my attire would be for today. Once I’d gotten past three unwarranted outfit changes, I found myself admiring the jewelry as it glimmered in the natural lighting cascading into his master bedroom beyond the curtains. I’d forgotten to remove them.

“They’re not real. It’s just costume jewelry.”

“They look pretty damn real to me.”

“Well, they’re not. There’s this new spot that opened up over on West 47th Street. I grabbed them in there. I just thought they looked cute and they reminded me of something Lil’ Kim wore one time. You know Kimberly Denise Jones is one of my spirit animals. They’re not something you wear everyday but it’s the holidays and I’m on vacation until after the New Year, so why not? I’m glad they look real though. That just means they were well made.”

“You seem to have a million alter egos. One minute you’re Florence Joyner, the next minute you’re Lil’ Kim, on another day you’re Angela Bassett, and then you’re Michelle Obama. We can’t forget you being the Oprah of sports journalism, oh and there’s Rihanna and Beyonce, who else?”

“Phylicia Rashard, Eartha Kitt, Regina King, Janet Jackson, Cari Champion, Lisa Salters, Pam Oliver, Jemele Hill. And I’ve never considered any of those women to be my alter egos. They’re women that I admire due to their drive, success, and character. I’ve taken bits and pieces from all of their careers and used them as lessons for my own. What you’ve mistaken is me saying that Lil Kim, Rihanna, and Tracee Ellis Ross are my style icons. Oh, and Mary J. Blige is my boot icon.” I think all women have a mood board of aspirations and inspirations. It doesn’t always have to be specific people. A portion of mine just so happens to contains who I believe are some of the greatest black women of the past and current generation. They’re not alter egos who I attempt to mimic but rather stories of triumph that keep me driven.

“What’s up with you and Kyle? Why are you interested?” I nearly cut into the flesh of my finger while dicing the stalks of celery. Briefly, I paused to gather myself, and immediately moved on to the three cloves of garlic.

“Nothing at all. I’m not interested so please stop pressing me about that. I’m not going to date your husband’s brother. I don’t do that all in the family stuff.”

“He’s really into you.”

“Or maybe you’re just exaggerating things. We’re just cool. We always have great conversations whenever we’re around one another and that’s good enough for me. I’ve already spoken to you multiple times about my disdain for your matchmaking bullshit. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a fan of it?”

“You continue to hold Shamel against me. Things didn’t work out. Okay. Shit happens. That doesn’t mean that every guy that I attempt to introduce you to won’t be compatible with you.”

“Compatibility? It’s deeper than that.” Parsley and cilantro were next for the wrath of the knife in my hand. I’m going to have to med onions next. I should have just bought all of this stuff chopped already.

“What’s deeper?”

“Celeste, you don’t know shit about what I went through with Shamel. You know the shortened version of years’ worth of bullshit. You think we just had a couple of typical couple disagreements to the point of us coming to terms with the reality that we could no longer be together? I wish it were that fucking simple, so don’t sit in here on your high horse with that matchmaker shit. Focus on your man and your marriage. I’m fine.”

I internalized so much of what I went through with the man. I was never the one to take my household troubles and spread all of it in places that it didn’t need to be. Anyone with the vision could see the tension between the two of us whenever we were out and about together and if you couldn’t see it, then it was thick enough to be felt. As my career began to take off, I chose to move as a single woman, often leaving him behind whenever I was out and about at industry events whether they were sports related or not. Shamel had a tendency to spend way too much time at the open bar, tossing back shots of tequila while slyly entertaining any woman that fawned over his deep mocha presence. He’d then cause a scene if he caught any men paying even the slightest attention to mine.

Beyond the decision to mask our toxicity as best as I could, I yearned to make my mother proud by being the quintessential woman; brains, beauty, a reputable career, and a good man standing alongside me. The pride she wore on her face at Celeste’s wedding stood out beyond any and everything that went on that summer night in Brooklyn. Since my father’s death, that wedding and all of the events leading up to it sparked a liveliness in her that I hadn’t experienced in quite some time although it had absolutely nothing to do with me. I’m not sure if she was vicariously living through my sister or she was simply just thrilled to see her began her own family, but in observing her response to it all, I wanted to give that to her.

After a short lived around of sex that left tears of mental exhaustion pouring down the sides of my face as I lie under him, he whispered in my ear that he intended to make me his wife. I’ll never forget the wave of nausea that rushed over my body and sent me dashing into the bathroom to empty out of the contents within my stomach. I thought of marriage as something beautiful until then. Just the thought of spending the rest of my life in misery with him left my mind in an emotional frenzy as I attempt to figure out when and how I’d end our relationship. Less than three weeks later, I finally mustered up the courage to get it done.

“You want to be alone forever?”

“Whether I do or I don’t, it’s my decision. You may be older, but we’re not kids anymore. We’re no longer in Brooklyn, under mommy’s roof, trying to figure out what we’re going to do with ourselves. You have your life and I have mine. I have time to figure that relationship shit out. I’m not stressed about it. Being single doesn’t bother me at all. For whatever reason, it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me that you’re single. I just think you deserve happiness.”

“And you think that I don’t have it without a man? You give them way too much credit.”

And she always has. Celeste has been a serial monogamist for as long as I can remember her dating history. As soon as one relationship of hers would end, she’d be in another one within a week or two. I can recall a couple of overlaps, but that’s none of my business.

“Don’t put the whole bonnet pepper in there.”

“I know that. I’m only doing half.” The last thing I want is to give our mother heartburn on Christmas Eve.

In the midst of me pouring olive oil into the deep red pot I already had on the stove, I reached into my back pocket for my vibrating phone.

Mrs. Claus, I’m missing you. When are you coming home?

Home? To mask my budding smile, I slowly pulled my lip in-between my teeth.

Home?

This man knows how to put a smile on my face by saying the simplest things.

Anywhere I lay my head is just as much yours as it is mine.

I should have known that when he gave me keys and the security codes last night. I’m still in disbelief about that.

I should be finished here really soon and I’ll be right back at the North Pole to keep your lap warm, Santa.

It’ll be the first time I’m spending Christmas Eve anywhere other than here and to say I’m nervous would be an understatement. Usually around this time of the year, O would be in the midst of the season so his family would make the effort to come to New Jersey to be with him. Even though he’s currently not playing, they still decided to come up and enjoy the chilled weather. For the past couple of days, he’s convinced me to rid myself of my reluctance and to be with him and a few people I’ve yet to meet like his grandmother Mille, his uncle Mike, his aunt Pat, and his step-father Derek.

Naked right?

And don’t even get me started on the lie that I had to tell everyone in this house so that I’d be able to get out of our Christmas Eve tradition of my cooking and us sitting around watching our favorite Christmas classics while bundled up under quilts that we’ve had since Celeste and I were toddlers. That lie involved Taylor, who’s actually in Atlanta right now, and Scott who actually did invite me to his Christmas Eve game night over at his place.

I can make that happen. Not while the elves are awake though. That’s a bit inappropriate, Santa.

My snicker wasn’t soundless. It was loud enough to alert Celeste and her eyes slowly panned in my direction and raised in curiosity at what tickled me.

“It’s Taylor.” I said it before she could ask.

Baby, don’t be mad at me but I already cut the red velvet cake. It was just sitting there and I couldn’t help myself.

I knew he’d do it. The fume enticed him by itself, so his response to the finished product was of no surprise. I didn’t even make him promise me that he wouldn’t touch it because I knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself just as he said. It’s why I made two of them.

I knew you would. Enjoy it. That’s why I made it.

I spent the morning baking as a part of his Christmas request. Renee’s handling everything else, but all of the sweets are my task. When I return, I’m going to make my mini eggnog cheesecakes and cookies.

Try and make it back before the snow starts. I don’t want you driving in that.

It’s not supposed to be enough snow to keep the east coast hiding inside of their homes, but it will be enough to leave traffic dragging and the roads hazardous. I’ve never been much of a fan of driving in the snow, so I do want to be out of here before those flurries began to fall.

Will do. I’ll see you in a bit love.

“I can’t believe you’re about to go and spend Christmas Eve hanging out with your co-workers. Don’t you get enough of seeing them at work?” This is her second time making commentary about this since I’ve been here and I’m not even sure why. Celeste and I barely say much of anything to one another whenever I’m around, unless she’s scolding me about some area of my life that she assumes that I need to improve. It’ll be no different tonight as they’re all curled up in the living room watching classic holiday films while enjoying the dinner that I’m preparing and a shit ton of junk food we bought at Walmart the other day. Besides, her husband is here and when he’s with her, nearly all of her attention is on him.

“What’s the big deal? We’re not kids waiting around on Santa anymore. There are no babies here in the house that we need to be extra festive for. I’ll be back in the morning for breakfast and then we’ll all open up the presents together like we usually do. You won’t even notice that I’m gone.” Maybe my mother will, but she certainly won’t. Whenever her husband’s around, her attention remains solely focused on him. She parades herself on being a so-called traditionalist as a wife; whatever that means. Either way, her head is up his ass and luckily for her, his is just as far up hers.

“What time are you getting here in the morning? I figure I’ll at least be considerate enough to start making breakfast around them so by the time you’re here, you won’t have to eat cold food.”

“Most likely around nine or a half hour after it. It won’t be much later than that.”

“That’s if you’re not hungover, huh?”

“I won’t be. I have no plans to drink, unless it’s like a half glass of some spiked egg nog. Can’t go to a Christmas function and not have some egg nog. I’m driving, so it won’t be much.” I’m not irresponsible with my life and in addition to that, if O smells the alcohol on my breath, he’ll be scolding me all night long for having the audacity to drink and drive.

“Okay.” I never thought she’d leave the kitchen. She’s been in here since my arrival and comfortably settled at a spot in front of the island, while watching my every move. Initially, I thought she was doing it simply to be a critic of whatever I intended to prepare in the kitchen, but now I know she sat there as a mean to try and find her way into my business as she always seems to do. I’ve never been interested in what she has going on with Preston since she met the man. Even when we all went out to dinner a few years back and she first introduced him to both my mother and I, I didn’t have much of anything to say. All I could make of their connection was that she was obsessed with everything about him and luckily for her, he was smitten enough to feel the same way about her. She needed a man who could and world be a bit of a pushover for her and he is exactly that.

My father’s beloved stewed chicken or as he called it, poulet creole, was a breeze to prepare because I’m the only one in our home who learned every single aspect of that recipe directly from him. On a random summer day, while my mom and Celeste were out at the hair salon getting curls put into their hair for Sunday service, he interrupted me from watching ESPN, and called me into the kitchen for yet another one of his many lessons. The manner in which he taught me wasn’t by me looking on at his every task but instead me doing all of the work while he closely directed so I’d my hands would familiarize themselves with the process as he claimed. It was the same method that his grandmother taught him to cook with.

I preferred learning to cook under his guidance far more than my mother’s because she’s like a drill sergeant in the kitchen; barking down on her subject for any mistake or mishap with her directions. He and I laughed, danced to whatever he chose to play in the radio, and compared and contrasted our opinions on any topic we could think of. I will always hold him in the highest regard for allowing my self-expression to flourish. As a West Indian father of two girls, he could have easily chosen the overprotective and absurdly sexist route in raising us, but he didn’t. Rather than doing his best attempt to blind me from life beyond the doors of our home, he chose to listen to my perspective and then teach me about what life has to offer whether good or bad; easy, moderate, or difficult.

I miss him. Actually, that’s an understatement. During the holiday season, that pain that lies dormant within my soul flares up into an intensity that I have to stoically mask for the sake of getting through. As much as he emphasized the need to prepare both Celeste and I for the day that he was no longer with us, none of us ever expected it to be as soon as it was. I want to be the strong and independent woman that he raised me to be, but in some ways, I still need him. My mother needs him because she hasn’t been quite right ever since. Celeste needs him just as much, because there’s a part of her that has always sought him out in the men that she chose to allow into her life since his death.

“Celeste, I’m heading out.”

“Nice coat and hat.”

The caramel wool cashmere single-breasted silhouette was an unexpected gift from Kobe before we went on break for the holiday. Everything about the hand-embroidered embellishments and the manner in which it loosely accentuated my frame instantly made me fall in love with it with the Burberry piece. He encouraged me to open it up while we were standing there in my dressing room so I’d be able to see if I liked it, but I voiced that it wouldn’t be right to open it before Christmas. My curiosity nipped at me all morning long until I fed into its urge by opening it up and like a kid whenever they’re given anything new, I had to wear it immediately. The matching beanie hat is the cherry on top. Before I’m off to bed tonight, I intend to thank him again.

“Thanks. It’s my Christmas gift from Bean.”

“Who?”

“Kobe.”

“So, you’re going to be here around nine, right? You better not be late because I’m not defending you when mommy snaps.”

“Yes. I’ll be here. When she gets in from church, tell her to call me if she needs me.” I still can’t believe she went to Christmas Eve service. Actually, I’m quite surprised that she didn’t pressure Celeste and I into attending.

“Will do. Enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas Eve.” Unexpectedly for her, I leaned in and planted a soft peck on her cheek. We’ve never been the type of sisters who shower one another with a lot of love whether it be physical or verbal, but on there are those random occasions when I do show or tell her how much I love her. I’d like to think in all the ways I help her or come running when she needs me, it’s a reflection of what I feel just as much.

“Merry Christmas Eve. Have fun.”

“Will do. You too. Since mom isn’t here, maybe you and Preston can get a little practice in on that baby that you want.” With a slight scoff, her eyebrows raised.

“Since when are you on the wild side?”

“I’m reserved, not virginal. See you in the morning.”

A gust a wind slithered through the open space as soon as I opened the door to step outside and very faint sprinkles of snow filled the air as they lightly cascaded down to meet my frame. I thought I would have been out of here before it all started but the beauty of it ceased any complaints that I usually would have if it weren’t Christmas Eve. If anything, the snow makes the spirit of tonight even more fulfilling. I don’t have to dream of a white Christmas because it seems like the city is being gifted with one this year. “Happy Holidays stranger.” I didn’t see his car parked across the street nor had I noticed him jogging across the street after locking the doors behind himself and yet here he is, stepping up onto the sidewalk and inching closer to the steps of my mother’s porch to trigger a slight downward spiral of my mood with his presence alone. I don’t know what it is with Quinton and his purposeful choice to remain all in the family despite my resistance towards whatever he and my mother thought they had planned for my love life. Initially, I believed he genuinely viewed us as an extension of his own family and supporters in the neighborhood who he knew he could count on, but now, I’m not sure what the fuck this is or where he’s going with it. “Happy Holidays.” “How have you been?” “Well. You?” I was better just a minute ago. “I’m well enough.” “What brings you around? The holiday? You seem to always show up around here whenever there’s one.” In his hand, he held a gift bag that I’m going to assume is for my mother. It’s not that I mind that he buys her gifts, because deep down, I don’t. I’m mostly concerned with what they mean. “I don’t just show up here on holidays. I come over and check on your mom from time to time. You know I love Mrs. Nazaire.” My scoff was loud and clear. Any time we speak now, he sounds like nothing more than a fame hungry politician, who uses manipulation tactics to garner allies and supporters. I’m sure his antics are no different with my mother. It’s why she holds him in such high regard no matter how much I don’t give a fuck. “Yeah? It’s starting to feel like you’re screwing my mother. I’m not looking for any step-dads within our age range. Sniff around women your own age Quinton.” The sarcasm flowed from my mouth and into his ears; leaving a flustered expression on his face that quickly transitioned into one of annoyance. “I’m not. I’ve only been to bed with one Nazaire woman.” “I’m glad you used the past tense. I barely remember that one and done situation; but I’m glad that you do. She’s not here, but Celeste and her husband are. You’re more than welcome to wait for her and I’m sure that you will.” “I don’t know what it is that Shamel did to you, but you’re so bitter now. Not all men are hood gym owners who fucked you over repeatedly while dipping into women who bought memberships to be trained in doggystyle position rather than on treadmills. All I wanted to do was be a good man to you, but you’re coming at my head as if I’m your enemy.” He said all of that and yet I’m the bitter one? If anyone asked me anything about this man’s personal life, I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything aside from what I know from the days when we’d actually hangout with one another. I haven’t kept up with much about his life story since then and I’d prefer not to know now. That’s the difference between he and I; he remains invested in what doesn’t concern him while I can’t seem to find a reason or the time to concern myself with what he wishes I would concern myself with. “I’m growing a bit confused about who has the pussy between the two of us. Only bored and lonely women concern themselves with what was or wasn’t going on in another woman’s relationship. Damn, you were more invested in what Shamel was doing with his time than I was. I’m bitter because I don’t want to play your political trophy wife or are you bitter because despite my firm no, you’re still sniffing around here and chasing me? Find your dignity Quinton. Don’t go out like a wack bitch, aight?” “I hope you don’t go out like one either. Make sure you keep it classy by not fucking with all of those athletes that you’re constantly around. How many have you been with thus far?” “All of them.” I’m usually not the type to laugh at my own jokes but I couldn’t help but to chuckle at his facial expression. I’ve been slut shammed more times than I can count. It happens every day when random people hiding behind social media accounts on apps decide to accuse me of using my body in order to keep my job, so Quinton doing it isn’t offending me any more than it does when strangers are doing it. Initially, I used to be extremely irritated by it but I’ve come to terms with the reality that people are going to say and assume whatever they want no matter what I do or feel about it. No matter who I do or don’t have in my bed, my bills are paid. “Excuse me. I have some place to be.”

Stepping around him wasn’t the problem; it was the oddness of him standing there and watching me slip into my car. Like a lost puppy, he trudged up the stairs to the house door and continued to burn a hole into my foggy windows with a scowl on his face that I couldn’t see but I’m sure is there. Maybe one day he’ll get it or maybe he won’t, either way, I’m not responsible for what he feels. I’ve been clear with all intentions and lack their off.

No matter how much snowfall happens in the northeast year after year, as soon as flakes of any size begins to fall out of the sky, the snail-paced traffic is an immediate effect and it drives me insane. It’s one of the primary reasons why I was in no rush to get a new car and am currently wishing I had a driver taking me to my destination. Not even the holiday tunes that I love so much are distracting me from wanting to roll my window down and shout at the drivers in front of me who are missing green lights and evoking slight amounts of fear within me with their skidding. What would usually be a forty-five-minute commute turned into nearly an hour and a half.

The relief that washed over me at the sight of the double entry driveway was well received as I slowly inched my way in and focused in on the three bodies standing in the driveway. I reached out to him just a few minutes ago to notify him that I’d need help getting bags out of the backseat of the car, so we wouldn’t have to make multiple trips in the brisk weather. Unlike the other males standing alongside him, the handsome one who belongs to me was hilariously covered in an oversized Santa coat with a black hood covering his blonde mane.

“The traffic was so stupid as I was on my way to the Lincoln Tunnel. I will never understand how people who have been living on the East Coast since forever still fear the damn snow. It’s not even snowing that hard.” My right hand latched onto his and he carefully pulled me out of the driver’s seat and into his awaiting arms. My complaint went into one ear and right out of the other as he endearingly snuggled my frame as close to his as possible while nuzzling his chilled face into the nape of my neck. Admittedly, I needed to feel him in this exact manner for the restoration of the joy that this night is supposed to be and bring.

“And don’t even get me started on this ass wipe in this big ass Navigator who kept slightly skidding. I was caught in between being worried for my damn life and wanting to kick his ass for driving so stupidly. Oh and…” His peck was sweet; subtle and yet enough to leave me yearning for so much more.

“Give me your keys.” To oblige his request, I dropped them into his hand and turned to both Kordell and Derek who were looking on and most likely extremely bored with my rant.

“Hi guys.”

“You finally made it. This guy was about five minutes away from hopping into his Rolls Royce and driving all the way to Brooklyn for you.” I’ve only met his step-father Derek once and in my quick assessment of him I understood that he was more of a reserve man who somehow had a humorous side to him that couldn’t be ignored. He can crack a joke and it usually comes at the right time.

“I told him I was coming. I would have been here if it weren’t for the traffic.”

“And he wanted me to get in the car and go with his lame ass.” After a shared hug with Derek, I threw my arms around Kordell and pecked his forehead despite his maneuvers to avoid it. He’s not exactly the most physically affectionate person so I purposefully shower him with some of my own to worsen whatever annoyance his oldest brother sent his way.

“You weren’t going to come looking for me with your brother? I thought you and I are good friends now?”

“We’re family or whatever, but you and bro are old. I have a lot more life to live. I wasn’t about to catch hypothermia messing with the two of you.”

“It’s not even that bad out here. You haven’t seen a real blizzard yet Louisiana boy.” His dramatics earned a light mush to his head. I’d love to see how he reacts to a couple of feet of snow covering the ground and maybe even a power outage to go with it. Now that’s hell.

“Sarai, what is all of this?” The bewildered expression on his face and him using my first name evoked me to widen my eyes in a confusion about what I could possibly be in trouble about. I don’t believe there’s anything incriminating in my trunk and if there is, I didn’t place it there.

“Gifts.”

“All of this?” Like a nagging elderly man who borders between obnoxiously cheap and being frugal with his money, he extended his arm towards the overflowing trunk and placed his idly hand on his hip to await an explanation that he’s not going to receive.

“What? I told you that I was coming with gifts. Don’t be ridiculous. Just grab them. Oh, and don’t forget the ones in the backseat. I’m going inside. It’s cold.”

“This is crazy. You went overboard.”

“I know you’re not talking about overboard. There’s a Rolls Royce parked right over there. I can start there and keep on going for hours. You really want to do this right now?” If there’s anything I’m ever ready for; it’s to prove somebody wrong. Debating is an essential part of my profession as an analyst and I haven’t lost a debate yet if you let me tell it, so I can and will give him an extensive five minutes of dialog about his spending habits and how he is by far one of the biggest spenders that I know. This man doesn’t even use his washer and dryer. He dry cleans every damn thing and never wears the same underwear, socks, or t-shirts twice.

“Nah, baby, you got it.” Without any further questions or concerns, he extended his arms into the trunk and began to retrieve a few of the many bags that they all needed to bring inside.

“Wow. You know how things go in arguments. Good job, man.”

While on my way to the warmth, my laughter at Derek’s commentary was loud enough for me to hear it but low enough so that the man of my affection couldn’t make it out. Sometimes it’s just best to keep quiet about the reality that your man is willing to put himself aside to please you and, in this case, it was his mouth.

“Sarai!”

Sometimes I’m stunned by my sincere acceptance into his family dynamic. We’re anything but traditional and we’re navigating in a manner that I’m sure they don’t understand because we certainly don’t. Aside from my overwhelming emotional affection towards the man who belongs to them more than he does to me, they’ve been unknowingly responsible for making me feel like I deserve the joy that I feel when I’m with him and around them. In my transition from hugs with Heather, Jazzy, and those who I’ve been led around the first level of the house to meet, I haven’t been able to ease away the smile gracing my face.

“Your outfit and pajamas are upstairs in the room.” I know pasta when I smell it. The fumes coming from the kitchen appealed to my senses quickly and left my stomach turning in knots for nourishment.

“Outfit?”

“Wait until you see what your guy bought for you.” Her amusement was my fear. I tend to like to make him the butt of a couple of my jokes, but I don’t want to be the one on the other end of his tonight.

“Is it a onesie?”

“No.” Suddenly I wish this glass of egg nog were spiked.

“I’m going to head up and see it. If it’s a disaster I’m pulling the feminist card and blaming the both of you because we’re supposed to be united against these men.” I waggled my finger back and forth to point out the mother and daughter duo who found my apprehension to be amusing and began slowly inch my way up the spiraling staircase that leads to the upper level of the house. Though I could hear his voice loud and clear from the foyer, O hadn’t brought my personal belongings upstairs and I’m already up here so that’s out. With that in mind, it seems even more logical to take him up on his offer of my own closet space so that I no longer need to keep trekking overnight backs to and from here.

A blend of the Italian bergamot and clay sage from his beloved cologne meshed in blissfully with the gingerbread scent that I know he purposefully misted into the room just for me. Since December came in, he frequently made note of how my home smelled like cookies whenever he came over and accused me of trying to toy with his already slightly ridiculous appetite for junk food, especially candy. Despite my love for Bath and Body Works and Yankee Candle’s holiday scents, he deemed them to be exceedingly sweet and overdone. Now look at him.

Flutters filled my core at the sight of his master suite’s fireplace being utilized for the first time ever. Unlike my obsession with them, it’s a feature within the house that he hasn’t concerned himself with since moving in. There’s something about the way the flames are curling and oscillating, flickering like gleaming lights, and cascading hues of scarlet onto the wall that naturally warms the space.

“Your stuff is on the bed.” I knew he was in the doorway. The chills trickling onto the back of my neck spoke before he did.

“You put the fireplace on.”

“I figured you’d like it. Thank God it’s electric. I’m no fireplace expert.” As his feet trudged against the wooden flooring, he dropped my monogram Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière duffle bag near the entry way of his closet.

“It’s beautiful.” If it were just us, I’d curl up on the floor in front of it with a good playlist going.

As soon as my Ugg boots were kicked aside, I inched closer to the bed and alongside three bags, was a Snoopy and Woodstock perfectly wrapped present that I certainly wasn’t expecting to see. My curiously instantly peaked but in a swift second, I checked myself for discarding the waiting rule I’ve grown up with. Celeste and I weren’t even able to open one gift at midnight on Christmas Eve.

“You forgot to put that under the tree?” Instead, I reached for the crimson red gift bag and snickered as soon as my hand silky velvet material that is identical to the kind covering his frame. My Mrs. Claus coat was that of something I’d be waiting for Santa in the bedroom in rather than keeping an eye on the elves. It’s lace-up front called for a good cleavage while the pure white faux fur trimming and flared skirted bottom were more along the lines of tradition until anyone notices the split open front. What exactly is supposed to go under this?

“No, that’s for you to open now. You probably thought I was playing when I mentioned it before but I really am impatient on Christmas Eve. I like to open presents the night before and just sleep on Christmas morning. Since it’s our first one together, I figured I’d be fair to your traditions and my own. So, we can open some tonight and then open the first in the morning. Fair?” Like an eager child hoping to get his way, his narrowed eyes slightly widened with hopes that I’d agree to what he calls fair. I don’t see what the big deal is. It all has to be opened either way.

“Fair.”

“So open that.”

Lazily, my body flopped down onto the plushness of the bed and I grabbed the box with a bit of shaking to increase his growing anticipation. The contents inside only slighting moved, throwing off just about all of my potential guesses for what it may be. My first donned a smirk as I commenced with tearing through the wrapping paper to uncover the infamous Christian Louboutin box under it. Shoes? Infinite brownie points already. Much like himself, I adore footwear. I stand by the law that a shoe can make or break a look more than any other article of clothing.

“You didn’t.” Instantaneously, thoughts of a random conversation I was having with Taylor came to mind. Christian Louboutin collaborated with Indian Couture Designer Sabyasachi Mukherjee on an extremely limited-edition collection featuring hand-embroidered sari fabrics and jaw dropping embellishments that left me in awe upon the sight of it online. Every piece of material used to craft the shoes were taken from Sabyasachi’s private archive, leaving only a few pairs of each design to be created.

“Didn’t what?” His confusion was intentional. The grin called his bluff. The lid to the box went flying behind me in an instant and in dramatic fashion, I dropped back onto the bed in astonishment and bliss at the sight of the exquisite thigh high boots that I fell in love with. Their golden delicate leather straps were specially designed harness and highlight the leg. On top of it, they’re made to measure.

“Is this real life?”

“I feel pretty alive, what about you?”

“How the hell did you get these? I called everywhere. No, literally. I e-mailed fucking Hong Kong for them. Supposedly only like six pairs were made.” “Those have been in my closet since October.” The nonchalance in his tone evoked a moisture lightly seep into the seat of the lace under my jeans. I don’t know whether to jump on the bed in joy or discard everything covering my frame allow him to twist and flip me into any position of his liking. Maybe both? Both can certainly be done.

“Come and give me a hug please.” With the box now resting alongside me, I opened my arms and awaited his presence. Like a weighted blanket, a wave of tranquility washed over me at the mass of his body now being closely hard-pressed against mine. My fingers found their way into the platinum blonde curls and few loose dreads dangling from his scalp and our lips met for a kiss that I’d been yearning for since I opened my eyes this morning. The sweetness of his supple lips intoxicated me far more than anything alcoholic ever could and the way his length fingers dug into the skin of my hips nearly blurred the actuality that we’re not home alone.

“I love them so much. Thank you, handsome.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Get up so that I can get one of yours from downstairs.”

“I can wait until after you’re dressed.”

“No, I insist. Let me get it.”

“Another kiss first?”

Without hesitation, I once again pressed my lips into his own for a deep peck and moved in a fluidity with his body as we eased off of the bed. I made it downstairs and back up, with a promise that I’d hurry up and change so the festivities could really begin. I need a quick shower first before I do anything else.

“I hope that you like it. I saw it and you instantly came to mind.”

“Can I just warn you that I didn’t wrap all of your gifts. The only reason why your boots were wrapped is because the boutique did it for me.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care about all of that.” The last thing I expected him to do is be frustrating himself with wrapping paper. His patience would never be able to handle it. For some odd reason, I enjoy doing it. I’ve been the designated gift wrapper in my family for years.

Though it may seem childish to some, I wrapped everything I bought him in Dr. Seuss’ “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” wrapping paper that I randomly spotted and happily picked up from a Hallmark store in Rutherford, New Jersey. Since he deemed it to be his favorite holiday classic, I imagined it would be festive to bring an element of it into the fun.

With my phone in hand, I snapped a photo of him as he tore through it to reveal the Louis Vuitton box, I knew it to be. Within seconds, its lid was on the floor and he drew away the protective paper to reveal the tan cowhide and calf leather “Christopher Backpack” backpack I bought for him. Unlike his ridiculously vibrant Supreme bags, I fell in love with the timeless style of the backpack and the classic solidness of its color. It’s a perfect choice for those game days when he’s more dressed up than down and needs something that’s subtle while still somehow being a statement piece.

“Damn, this is clean. This is perfect for when we’re traveling because they usually want us a little more dressed up.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Yeah, I love this baby. I don’t know about waiting until next season to wear it though. I’ll have this on within a couple of days. Watch.”

Knowing him, he will. If it’s new, he’s in it shortly after receiving it. I don’t know him to be that person who saves things for later. Why should he when he’s constantly either buying or receiving things?

“I’m going to take a short shower. It’ll be quick.”

“You already smell good. What you need a shower for?”

“I was cooking. I can smell it on me. It’ll be quick. Ten minutes.”

“Your showers are never ten minutes.”

“This one will be. I assure you.”

The fib didn’t go without being grumbled about when that ten-minute duration I assured him up turned into an additional ten simply because of the feel of the warm water cascading over my skin left me in damn near a state of slumber as I stood there. My lotion lathering came with assistance and so did pulling up the opaque plaid patterned tights over my thighs. By the way of their fit, they were clearly sewn together to cater to an extremely slender woman’s shape but by the grace of God and my man’s hands they were up and over my ass without a snag or hole in sight.

“I really can’t believe you bought all of this.” We look like we work in the middle of a mall. Instead of having crying babies sitting up on his lap for photographs, he’d have lusty women beating one another to a bloody pulp for daring to cut the line to ruin their chances of sitting upon his lap and asking for his genitalia while I’d be called Santa’s Slore.

“Let’s go outside.”

Intricate patterns of the weightless ice floated downward from the darkened sky. Each flake whirled and twirled as a faint wind blustered them in our direction. Much like the silly man alongside myself randomly dancing for his personal media guy’s camera, I joyfully tracked footsteps into the barely there bed of snow covering the grounds of his driveway and took satisfaction in the sound of it squishing under my boots. I’m no longer camera shy, but being on one with him has awoken what used to be a part of me. I already knew that George would be documenting all of this just as he does for a lot of milestones and random moments of his life, but what happens if I’m no longer what he wants and he randomly comes across this Christmas video and the pictures to go with it one day? How awkward would that be?

“Hey, look.”

“Huh?” Though he only spoke two words, the thick cloud of breath still lingered as I faced him. In following his eyes as they slowly panned up, mine met the mistletoe idly hanging on the door with the red bows that were already there.

“That was not there when I got here.” I saw the bows, but the mistletoe? No. Laughter spilled from our lips at what I knew to be true. I’m slightly fatigued, but I can remember what I did and did not see.

“It was.”

“It was not.”

“Come and kiss me so that we can go inside, open up more stuff, and play cards with grandma.”

“That tone. I like it.” I’m alright with a man taking charge every now and then.

“Come here.”

The frost of the winter air was of no match to the warmth radiating from our bodies and serving as a shield around our affection. I’d often fantasize about moments like this; having a companion to comfortably, and most of all safely, bare my all to without any guards or painful baggage weighing me down. I believed the advice of allowing it to come to me was standard and cliché, but I undoubtedly understand it now. It’s when you least expect it that the unexpected happens in the best way possible. I ruled him out of my life as soon as we had that initial conversation and yet the universe continued to cross our paths, naturally coercing me to allow him in. In the midst of all of my fears from the past and present, I want only him.

“Okay, let’s go. I want to see everything that you got me.”

“You can’t open everything tonight. That’s breaking our deal.”

“Huh?” I trailed behind him as he dashed back into the house and towards the living room.

“You heard me!”

I chose the kitchen counter top as my designated seat for what turned into the most chaotic gift giving presentation. Like a hood Santa Claus, all I could pay attention to was my man and his slightly sagging plaid pants zipping through his home pulling out gifts from seemingly everywhere. They jokingly talked about how much of a grinch he was last Christmas but he’s certainly redeeming himself this year.

I can’t remember the last time I thoughtlessly splurged on luxury designer goods but I don’t need to do so any time soon because he covered that and then some. Being overwhelmed was an understatement. Chanel, Versace, Bottega Veneta, Balenciaga, Saint Laurent, Fendi. I lost track of the rest and the process of just how I’m going to be able to organize all of it in my closet.

In watching him, it’s so easy to understand human purpose. In the midst of being here to seek fulfillment within our own purpose, we’re just as much here to look after our loved ones and even those who aren’t. Fortunately, he’s been blessed to have more and because of it, he spreads not only his love but also the benefits of his wealth among them. There’s a pride within it that has been radiating from him for over an hour now. I too, can relate. I’ve been given just as many hugs and kisses of thanks that he’s been given and I expect that it’ll continue when I am with my own family in the morning.

“Draw 4, blondie.” What he thought was going to be a swift Uno out moment turned into him having fifteen cards in his hand and a scowl on his face that is hysterical. He’d beaten me to the point of embarrassment at Spades because I’ve never been that great at it despite the many times my dad taught me how to play, so I had to somehow coerce him into playing something that I could play by pretending that I didn’t know how to.

“You know what, I’m going downstairs to whoop Kordell in some hoops because you’re cheating.” A snicker slipped past my lips at the playfully aggravated scowl on his face as he used his body’s strength to push his chair away from the round table. In a manner to taunt him, I held out my hands before me and wiggled my fingers to signify my lack of cards and the reality that I’d just won yet another game of UNO. My man being a sore loser isn’t something that he’s modest about. I and many others have known that about him for quite some time.

“Don’t be mad.”

“You’re cheating. You keep making up imaginary rules that don’t exist.”

“Seriously? The directions are in the box. Look at them or look them up on Google. It’s not my fault that you don’t know them all. You just suck.”

“I suck?” The amused expression on Mille’s face tickled all of us as she glanced back and forth, to take in every shit talking word as they left the both of our mouths. She’d been quietly observing the two of us since we joined both she and Jasmyne at the table for a round of card games.

Initially, I thought I’d been intruding on her time with her grandchildren, but the sly smirks and eventual huge smiles gracing her angelic face swarmed me with a warmness that I needed to further soothe me into a comfort zone around those who I do not know well just yet. Every couple of minutes or so, she’d give me either a gracious caress to the hand as a sign of her welcoming or a pat of encouragement to continue beating her oldest grandchild at Uno. I’m going to accredit that to the feminism within her.

“If the shoe fits, babe.”

“I’m going to remember that baby. The mental note is made.” He used his index finger to tap his forehead as I wordlessly ogled over his exterior.

If anyone looked at his attire, it wouldn’t be deemed as anything impressive; a black Supreme sweatshirt and a pair of black loose shorts to keep him much cooler than all of that velvet he had on. Simple. Why my eyes are continuing to embarrassingly bulge out of their sockets every time they land on him is beyond my comprehension. I’ve never seen anyone’s facial structure be as chiseled to perfection as his is. The silhouette of his jawbone is completely shielded by the blackness of his thick beard and yet just the hint of it sends unwavering shivers down my spine.

The glimmer in his faintly slanted and ever so narrowed eyes illuminates any room when that priceless smile arises on his face and every aspect of myself begins to figuratively melt into liquid form; between my thighs is the worst of it. In the midst of his sleep, I love to plant soft pecks down the finely lined bridge of his nose until my lips are gently pressed into the suppleness of his own. I’m addicted. I lose all sense of who I am whenever his warm tongue meets mine.

Handsome is an understatement; it isn’t enough to compare. He is beauty personified. I don’t believe there is another man in sports entertainment who has left me gasping for just a slight breath of air upon my every sight of him. It never gets old. I don’t believe it ever will.

Sometimes I have to wonder if he’s truly mine or if the universe is playing some type of sick joke on me.

“I don’t mind you remembering that.” Whatever payback he has for that may come with pleasure that I am more than willing to accept.

“Alright.” The sly smirk tugging on his lips was enough to leave me on the borderline of tickled and embarrassed as soon as he leaned over to plant a knowing and warning kiss on my lips. Despite the presence of his younger siblings and the elders within his family, he didn’t harbor not even an ounce of regard or bashfulness when it came to his need to have his hands touching some part of my body or any other display of affection, he bestowed upon me at random moments. His actions remained consistent with all that he does when we’re alone; barely any discretion involved.

“I’m not sure if my stomach is churning because of you two or because I want some cake, but I’m going to get some cake anyway. Y’all want anything?”

“You just mad.” And just like that, her brother’s large palms were lightly meshing into the side of her head for a playful mush and she instantly pushed him out of her way.

“I’m just fine with my egg nog.” Mille opted to keep hers virgin along with the other underage beings around. The rest of us had just a teaser of rum to give it a subtle kick.

“Me too. I’m fine.” I stepped on the scale a couple of days ago and I’ve gained five pounds. Between the man in my life constantly feeding me and the holidays, I’ve been overindulging on just about everything that’s offered to me. I need to get my life together.

With yet another shove to her brother’s side, Jasmyne darted away from the table with him hot on her trail with jokes about the size of her head which is no different from his own, but I’ll leave him be. They left the matriarch of their family and I at the table with decks of cards and a “Snow Place Like Home” five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle that she’s beginning to open so that we can attempt to put it all together before we’re off to bed. The peacefulness on her face evoked a solace within me that I’ve been seeking since this day began. My internal mourning subsided for the meantime as I observed her joy in being surrounded by family and most of all, because they’re all doing quite well in all aspects.

“My daughter went from telling me that you have my grandson’s nose wide open to telling me that he’s completely lost into your world and I couldn’t believe it. Odell would always laugh me off when I asked him about girls or women and he’d tell me that myself, Heather, and Jasmyne are the only ladies of value and importance in his life. From the way he’s been floating around here since your arrival and the way he looks at you, there’s officially a fourth.” My mouth moved to speak but the words remained stuck in the pit of my throat as her ash white eyebrows arose in a satisfaction at the believed accuracy of her all too knowing spirit.

“You don’t have to be modest. He’s not sitting next to you anymore.” Immediately, giggles spilled from her rosy lips prompting my shoulders to sink in a relief that I’m not sure why I needed.

“I’m not being modest. I just don’t know what to say. It feels like a lot of this is unfamiliar territory for me but at the same time, it evokes the shy and bashful side of me.” She’s been making little comments since we were introduced. I guess they were all leading up to this moment.

“That’s a good thing dear; a great thing. I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since his momma showed me a video of him working out with his physical therapists and trainers. You’ve built him back up. She gives you most of the credit for that.”

“I wouldn’t give myself any credit. His determination did it. You can’t keep someone with his determination down and he certainly wasn’t going to do it to himself.”

“Determination goes a long way, but often time, there has to be something or someone to ignite the fire behind that determination and that has been you. You cared for him, physically and most of all mentally, during what he calls one of the most disappointing and darkest times of his life thus far. So, don’t sell yourself cheaply because he talks about you like you’re priceless.”

“I believe in everyone having a person; that person that they can go to for laughter and good times or to lean on for a cry session. Whether it’s a close relative or a friend, you just need that person. I wanted to be that person for him because I know what it’s like to not have that person. He didn’t need pity. He needed encouragement that the injury is just a small part of his journey and most of all, he just needed someone to simply be there. That’s what you do for someone you lo-“

My tongue pressed against the backs of my top front teeth as I halted an admission that I’ve been withholding for a short while and coming to grips with on my own. I’ve been overly analyzing what that means for myself and how to navigate it going forward because it’s never felt quite like this before. As with all that I’ve been sharing with him, it’s new and I’ve jumped off of a cliff and into a pit of fear that I’m doing my best not to drown in.

Acceptance needed to come first and now that it has, I’ve been in a wonderment of whether or not those feelings are reciprocated on his end and how I’m going to handle my ever-going emotions if they are not. I cannot berate him for what he may not feel nor can I resent him for not sparing my feelings with lies if he does admit that I am in this alone.

I want to do nothing more than protect him. It’s almost odd because I’ve felt compelled to do that prior to even knowing him. Every attack and biased commentary that came his way felt like a personal attack on the character of a man who the world refused to understand. Now that I’ve experienced him in ways that are far beyond what were in my imagination at that time, I stand firm in what I knew all along. He’s not perfect and yet his imperfections are too what I love about him. He’s the embodiment of a security in his personhood and masculinity that I am irrevocably attached to.

“You could have finished that. Words are powerful but so are body language and actions. Yours have said it all. You know, I used to call you the young lady on TV that he likes so much, but now I call you the young lady on TV that he loves so much.”

Faint tingling nipped at the nape of my neck and the lined crevice of my back as certain aspects of her statement entered my ear like a vibrating echo; hypothetically repeating themselves for an emphasis to my thoughts. The last man I remember genuinely loving me laid down with my mom to create me. Shamel did not love me; I was something to do.

He rarely ever used the word and when he did, it was to emphasize something that he loved for me to do for him. In poor judgement and a lack of character, I accepted that because I was too emotionally exhausted to be combative with him or myself about it. Eventually, I didn’t even want him to love me. There didn’t need to be anything that kept us attached beyond an ignorant familiarity that I clung to for far too long.

“You really think so?”

“I know so dear.”

In an effort to help her, I reached my arms out and used my hands to spread out the many pieces all over the table so that we could begin a strategy to get it done. It’s been quite some time since I’ve done one of these and I’m not even sure my tired body can concentrate enough but I’m willing to try.

“Merry Christmas.” Yet again, the scent of his Sean Jean cologne slithered up my nose as the heat radiating from his body left me leaning back against my seat, relishing in it. His long arms extended over and he placed a navy-blue box down on the table directly in front of me. Upon my eyes landing on it, the all too famous Harry Winston initials were engraved in a bold gold on its surface.

“What’s this?” Along with him, Mille, and myself being in the room, there was also George who was continuing to document every aspect of this holiday celebration.

“Just a little something for my Brooklyn girl to rock with her Timbs.”

“Shut up!” Our regional teasing never ends. He tends edge me out with the Brooklyn jokes because I don’t know how many other ways, I can talk about how country he is. Technically speaking, he’s not even as country as some of the other athletes that I’ve spoken with over the last couple of years. Even his accent, that nearly melted me out of my heels the night we first conversed with one another, isn’t heavily ingrained with that Louisiana flare.

“Open it.” Without any bickering or hesitation, I slowly pulled up the lid on the box to reveal a pair of hoop earrings that instantly left me in a state of breathlessness. The emerald and round cut stones circled their platinum setting with a glimmer that one could not ignore. Every aspect of their make oozed a meticulousness to his taste and Mr. Winston’s talent. Any figure of price that came to mind could not match up with what sat before me and I know better than to ask him for specifics. I can admit to being a gold hoop wearing girl while I was back in high school, but I never imagined myself having a pair quite like this.

“Oh my God.” Circling my fingers over their surfaces solidified the reality of them now being within my possession and his supple lips pressing against my forehead widened the smile I was already donning.

“You like them? They seemed like they were very you when I saw them. Hoops for when you rock those buns in your hair.” Whether it’s a well done or sloppy bun, he always compliments how “cute” it is on me and he takes it a step further by enjoying the open access to my neck while my hair is out of the way.

“I love them. Thank you, babe. Thank you so much, they’re beautiful.” Just as I’ve done with every gift he’s given me thus far, I leapt out of the chair and threw my arms around his body in a physical showering of the love that I have for him. It’s beyond the gifts but rather the reality of him thinking of me and being so intuitive with what I desire and need that has taken his endless gift giving over the edge tonight.

“George did you get that? Now that’s a picture-perfect moment.” Mille’s face glowed in pleasure at the sight of us. I wonder if we’re reminiscent of those old black and white films that I secretly love so much. I hope so, but just in color. Everything about us is vibrant.

“I have it all Mama Millz.”

“I’ll be back.” I couldn’t take another moment of being in that unbearably warm coat or the tights.

I did change. The crimson red fair isle long john was a perfect touch for tonight. Much like earlier, the fireplace distracted me and I found myself sliding down onto the floor to marvel in its heat and beauty. If there were a pillow down here with me, I’d be asleep within minutes. Though he moved into this house not that long ago, for some reason it feels more lived in than my own. Maybe it’s because it’s filled with family right now or it may be the dogs, but I enjoy the way I feel here. There’s an eerie loneliness in my home that can be difficult to ignore sometimes.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the fireplace.”

“Why are you acting like you don’t have one?” Once inside, he closed the door enough just to leave a crack in it.

“I don’t have one in my bedroom.”

“We can fix that.” Yet again, the nonchalance tone and now shrug awoken parts of me that I’ve been mentally taming since my arrival. He talks like he’s more than willing to give me the world in a silver platter if I were to request it.

“I have something for you.”

“I want something for you too.”

“Me first.” Rather than hanging it to him, I nudged the velvet gift bag towards his feet and he flopped down onto the floor to meet it. He dropped his gift for me, Cartier from what I observed, into his lap.

“Patek Philippe? Oh wow.” With no response, I allowed him to have the moment to himself as he pulled the chocolate toned leather box out of the bag. Our eye contact was brief as he pulled open the lid and his silence intrigued me instead of rattling my already racing nerves. Just as I’d done to the hoop earrings, his fingers ran over its surface while his lips parted to leave his mouth agape. It may not be on his arm now, but I’ve envisioned just how incredible it’s going to look on him over and over again.

“The blue isn’t only representative of the team but it also takes me back to the night we both spoke for the first time. You were wearing blue and black. In New Orleans, when we made things official, you were wearing blue. Blue makes me think of you. I know most associate that color with sorrow, but you give it life and joy. You give it character.”

Only the sound of the fire crackling against the wood served as a tune dancing in the air of stillness between the two of us. His reaction to so many of the other things I gifted to him were boisterous and comedic, but this stole his words and left him to wallow in speechlessness.

“Sarai, I love you.”

The wholeness of his words filled voids that I neglected and accepted as everlasting destruction. His patience has sealed my gaping wounds and rid me of the leftover scarring. The acceptor of my deficiencies and the protector of my delicate soul, in his eyes, for the first time in such a long time, I recognize myself. The duality of being able to love myself and him is as synchronized as my breathing.

“I love you too, Odell.”

Undoubtedly. Irrevocably.

#odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

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cheeselywrites · 4 years

Text

Phone a Friend

An OC centric Camp Camp fanfic

Synopsis: Camille makes the trip down to Camp Campbell to lend Gwen a hand. Only, up until then she’d thought that Gwen was stretching the truth with her stories.

Warnings: Cussing

Pairings: None (for now)

Chapter One: Horribly Unprepared

Links: AO3

Scenarios ran through Camille’s mind in rapid succession as she made the hour drive to Sleepy Peak. She was about to just drive on through the small town when a thought occurred to her. What if someone was hurt? What if multiple people were hurt? Based on the small snippets she’d gotten from the phone call with Gwen, a building was on fire, and one of the children was running around with a knife. Hastily, she parked her car on the side of the road outside of what looked to be a boutique.

Glancing around, she could only spot a handful of actual stores. Actually, maybe using “handful” was being generous. Outside of the aptly named bar, and obvious adult entertainment, there were only about four actual storefronts. Immediately, the small electronics shop, and the neighboring boutique could be ruled out. That only left a hardware store and a trading post. Seeing two men sitting on the porch front of the trading post, Camille stepped out of her car after shutting off the ignition.

Out of the two older men, only one of them seemed to notice her.

“Ain’t seen you ‘round before, ‘lil lady. Small town, Sleepy Peak.”

“What did’ja say, Earl?”

“We gots a newcomer, Hank. You got yer ears on or what?”

“What?”

Camille felt a little bad chuckling at their small exchange, but then realized this was likely going to be the highlight of her day. She didn’t know what was waiting for her at Camp Campbell. A small distraction from the growing sense of impending doom was very welcomed. However, she knew that she needed to quickly get what she needed and hurry to the camp. Oh, she could almost hear Gwen yelling at her to “hurry the hell up”.

“Earl, is it? You’re right, I’m not from around here. I’m out here to help a friend, but I need to get a couple things before I can head out. Do you know where I can get a first aid kit in this town? Or basic medical supplies in general?”

Due to having already narrowed down the options due to the process of elimination, she’d already known it would be one of two stores. As nice as it would’ve been for Earl to gesture at the trading post he and Hank were sitting in front of, he kindly directed her to the hardware store. He told her that she would find everything she needed there, and maybe some more. Thanking both the men for their time, despite one of them not doing anything, she headed in the direction of the hardware store.

“Atlas Hardware Store? That’s an interesting name. Would’ve been funnier if it had been named “The Only Hardware Store” to match the bar.”

Not bothering to read the signage on the windows, something that would’ve softened the impact of the hodgepodge of merchandise in the store, she stepped inside and immediately felt overwhelmed. There appeared to be a little bit of, well, everything on the shelves. Although, there was a disturbing amount of manure and manure accessories. Before today she’d never even known that there was such a thing as manure accessories. “You learn something new everyday,” she muttered to herself, eyeing the multiple rows of shelves warily.

Fortunately for her, or at least she hoped, the checkout counter was only several feet away from the entrance at the front of the store. She walked over to find a middle aged man that looked like he’d rather be anyone else as he read a book. It reminded her of someone else she knew. She smiled at the man, glancing down at his name tag only to find it to be … blank. Not one to be deterred, she asked him where she could find the first aid kits. He didn’t even look up from what he was reading when he answered her.

“Aisle six, “Care and Kids”. They’re on the end cap by the gnomes.”

Deciding it was best not to question any of that, Camille thanked him before heading off to where he’d instructed her. As she found the aisle, she couldn’t help but look at the shelves. The “kids” side of the aisle didn’t look much out of the ordinary. Misspelled sign aside. The “care” side seemed to be the exact opposite of what it was supposed to be, however. Face masks that screamed “serial killer”? Axes? A chainsaw with no guard on the blades? What the hell are “face nails”, and how are they at all safe? Her eyes grew wide after she read the label on a bag on the bottom shelf. Why would a hardware store sell lye that was labeled as “body disposal grade”?

“Nope, nope. I changed my mind. I don’t want to know.”

Not wanting to spend anymore time in the hardware store that felt like it was pulled right out of an episode of “The Twilight Zone”, Camille rushed to the end of the aisle and looked at the end cap. She sighed in relief as there were actual first aid kits located there. Unsure of what was going to greet her at the camp, she decided to be on the safe side. So, with three survival grade first aid kits in her arms, she hobbled back over to the checkout counter. She tried to keep from slamming them down, but they had been heavier than she’d anticipated.

Sheepish, she smiled apologetically after startling the man. He rang her out with surprising speed. Then again, if his demeanor was anything to go by, he wanted her out of the store as quickly as possible. First aid kits in hand, she thanked him before rushing back out to her car. She chucked the kits into the passenger side seat. Breathing in deeply, she hit the road and continued on to the camp.

As she drove down the road, she remained unaware that her phone sat in the cupholder with several missed calls from her parents.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Another hour and a half of driving later, mostly due to accidentally driving past the giant billboard with Cameron Campbell’s face plastered on it, Camille finally pulled up to the camp. She had to do a double take at the sign that marked the entrance to the camp. Out of the car, she slung one of the kits straps over her shoulder. Holding the other two, one in each hand, she moved at a brisk pace to the center of the camp. The mess hall was in clear view despite its distance from the entrance. At least it wasn’t on fire anymore.

Getting closer, she noticed what looked to be someone tied to a flagpole. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was Gwen. Picking up the pace, Camille rushed over to her best friend. She immediately began to fuss over the woman, asking if she was alright. However, she didn’t receive much of a response as she practically had her face buried in a tablet. Sighing for what felt like the seventh time that day, Camille pulled out her knife and began to cut Gwen down. Being absorbed by whatever she was watching, Gwen didn’t realize the ropes were loosening until she felt herself free-falling. The tablet hit the ground first, with Gwen’s face soon joining it in the dirt.

“Who the fuck-”

Gwen’s voice died on her lips as she looked up at Camille, who was looking down on her with a smirk. Free from the hypnotizing powers of what Camille had assumed to be trash tv, Gwen jumped to her feet. Before Camille could say anything, she felt herself being roughly grabbed by the shoulders and shaken.

“What the fuck took so long, Cammie?! In the time it took you to get here, we put the fire out, Nikki corralled a swarm of bees and sicked them on Space Kid, and Quartermaster got dragged off by squirrels!”

With the shaking stopped, she raised her finger to say something, but her mouth just opened and closed like a fish. She was at a loss for words. Camille blinked as she tried to come to terms with everything that Gwen had just unloaded on her. Up until now she’d thought that the stories that her friend had told her nightly had been heavily embellished. Apparently, they’d all been pretty factual. Her eyes grew wide as she realized that her impending sense of doom she’d tried to ignore had been warranted.

“Fuck.”

A/N: Just want to add that I do have more written that is already posted on AO3. Once I catch up with posting on here, I am going to have a more consistent posting schedule.

#camp camp #cc gwen #camp camp gwen #cc max #camp camp max #cc quartermaster #camp camp quartermaster #cc nurf #camp camp nurf #cc nikki #camp camp nikki #camp camp fanfiction #cc fanfic #camp camp oc #cc oc #fanfic #original character #phone a friend #cheeselywrites

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johnny-and-dora · 5 years

Text

i’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice

“I was thinking about...our kids. Our future kids, I mean.” He says, still determinedly fixated on the window, and Amy feels herself completely melt.

or, the one where jake & amy have a snow day. (festive fluff - happy holidays!)

read on ao3

There’s a certain way that Amy Santiago expects to wake up on a Tuesday morning in late December.

It involves her eyes gently flitting open to the tuneful, familiar vibrato of her trusty alarm clock at 7am . It involves slowly unfurling herself from her cocoon of blankets, skimming through the news on her phone, scrolling through the comments on her laminating blog.

For the past four years, it’s also slowly come to involve the love of her life sprawled next to her - usually finding increasingly creative ways to enable the snooze on Amy’s many, many alarms and trying his hardest to tempt her back to bed for five more minutes.

(She can roll her eyes all she wants, but she can’t deny that Jake’s methods usually prove very effective before she can finally lure him up with a forehead kiss and the promise of coffee.)

The almost sub-zero temperatures – and, of course, the always warm hands and soft puppy-dog brown eyes of her husband – never fail to make sticking to her perfected December routine a reasonably difficult task to fulfil. But Amy loves her schedule almost as much as she loves Jake Peralta, and so it’s a routine that she rarely breaks, even when everything outside of the comfort of their bed feels like some kind of barren icy hellscape.

So it’s a surprise, then, when she’s woken up on a Tuesday morning in late December by the unmistakable sound of chaos coming from the kitchen, a picturesque pale sunrise framed by the windows that tells her it’s far too late to be 7am, and an empty space next to her where Jake should be.

Amy can’t lie; for one, hideous, jarring second, she panics. Still disorientated by sleep, she can feel horribly familiar dread rising in her throat at the horribly familiar emptiness of his side of the bed – but then she feels the body warmth still radiating from the sheets, and her ears tune to his voice belting Mariah Carey in the next room, and she relaxes. She chides herself for falling into old habits so easily, grateful that they’re merely old habits now.

Her rings glint on the bedside table – a promise of forever she’s more thankful for than most - and she quietly slips them on, smiling softly as she wraps up in a makeshift blanket cape and makes her way towards the kitchen.

Jake’s not going anywhere, and neither is she.

She leans in the doorway, instantly feeling lighter at the spectacular sight of her husband, dressed in pyjamas and a bright red Santa hat, fully engrossed in singing along to cheesy Christmas songs with intense passion while he makes pancakes and coffee. She isn’t completely sure she isn’t still dreaming.

Amy fondly watches him for a minute, unnoticed, weighing up the entertainment value of scaring the shit out of him against using him as her personal space heater– she eventually goes with the latter, draping her arms around his waist in lieu of a greeting. Melting into him from behind as she rests her chin on his shoulder, she feels his laugh vibrate through the both of them and immediately feels a hundred times warmer.

“Hey, babe. Enjoy your lie in?”

“Mmph. You’re warm.”

He turns around and she cups his face with her hands, tilting her head up to kiss him.

When they break apart, he smiles at her in that stupid fond way; and she can’t help it. She forgets about how cold it is and forgets her anxiety about work and being late and pretty much everything else in the universe except his stupid face, because it’s stupid and adorable and she could probably spend all day kissing it if she could.

He takes her hands in his; interlacing their fingers and trying not to grimace at how freezing she inevitably is.

“You are...so cold. How are you always so cold? Are you a reptile? Have I married into some kind of secret underground lizard mafia? Are you going to drain my blood and steal my heat?” Amy rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Jake. You got me. I’m only here because I want to steal your heat.” She says, deadpan, and Jake waves a triumphant finger like he’s just solved a case.

“I knew it! I’m the best detective.” He squeezes her hands fondly before letting them go to return to the stove. She pours freshly made coffee into two mugs and takes a sip from one, leaning back against the counter and watching Jake work, humming along to the radio.

“I’d ask if you wanted to help me with these but I presume you want our kitchen to remain not on fire.”

“Ha ha.” They stay like that for a few minutes, Amy stifling laughter as he overdramatically flips the pancakes in sync to the music - but now that she’s less frozen and can actually focus, a glance at the clock creeps uneasiness at the break in her routine back into her system.

“Wait, aren’t we...super late for work? Our shift started an hour ago.”

She tries and miserably fails to sound nonchalant at the idea of not being punctual - Jake turns around to raise an eyebrow at her and she makes a face at him. Childish distracting marriage it is.

“...Have you not looked outside since you woke up?”

“No...” Amy tugs her blanket cape around her a little defensively and he smiles, gesturing to the kitchen window with his spatula like a wizard waving a wand. She makes her way over to the window, half-expecting to see some kind of post hurricane apocalypse devastation she somehow slept through...

...and instead it’s just the familiar view of the downtown Brooklyn apartment building across from theirs, perfectly intact – and buried by at least six inches of pure, white snow. Everywhere she looks is blanketed in white, like the entire city has been dusted with icing sugar. The entire scene looks like the backdrop of the Christmas card they got from her parents this year – it’s breathtaking.

She turns back to Jake with wonder glowing in her face, warming at the childlike glint in his eyes and his goofy, eager wide grin.

“Snow day!” He declares excitedly, plate of pancakes in each hand, and Amy can’t help but smile.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know – and even better, city stopping. Holt sent a text telling us not to bother coming in an hour ago –the night shift are covering us seeing as we can’t get there and they can’t leave.”

“So?” “So, I woke up early, got way too excited at said snow, knew we weren’t going anywhere and shut off all your alarms so you could actually have a lie in.” He grins, and not even for the first time that morning she wonders how she got so lucky.

“I love you.”

“Love you too. The point is, everyone’s way too distracted by the snow for any crime to occur, which means we get a day off, which means –“ He hands her a plate – “celebratory snow day pancakes!”

Amy laughs and starts to eat, fondly watching from the window as the big family from the third floor that always send them a card run outside to pelt each other with snowballs. Jake puts one arm around her and she rests her head on his shoulder, blissfully content.

The snowball fight escalates after a few minutes, the kids engaged in an all out war with the parents even joining in, and Jake becomes immersed in it like it’s one of her mother’s favourite telenovelas.

At first she thinks he’s trying to figure out which kid to place a bet on winning (her money’s on the girl with the red scarf and the powerful throwing arm) but when she actually studies his expression it’s all wistful and dreamy, and she can tell he’s far away. She nudges him gently.

“What’re you thinking about?” Amy asks, half concerned and half curious. Their empty plates and coffee mugs are discarded on the kitchen counter, radio turned down to a quiet hum of vaguely festive themed white noise, both of them still fixated on the snow outside.

“Nothing.” He says, unconvincingly, and she has to remind herself not to use her interrogation room voice on her husband.

“You’re always thinking about something, Jake. Usually about fifty different things at once.” He exhales a short laugh at that, looking at her with such pure affection it almost sweeps her off her feet.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just...embarrassing. And sappy.”

“I like embarrassing and sappy.” She smiles, gently pushing him to open up – but he just shakes his head in response, gaze returning to the window where they both watch the dad pick one of his kids up and spin them round, laughing.

A few years ago she would have determinedly kept pushing further - but now Amy stays silent, the (fairly recent) luxury of knowing that he’ll open up sooner or later not lost on her. It only takes a minute before he speaks again.

“I was thinking about...our kids. Our future kids, I mean.” He says, still determinedly fixated on the window, and Amy feels herself completely melt.

“Oh.” “Yeah. Just...days like this, where we could go out and play in the snow...and they’d be wrapped up in like fifty different layers from head to toe, just like you, running around in cute little hats and scarves and coats...and we’d have snowball fights and build snowmen and then afterwards come inside and have hot cocoa and fall asleep watching cheesy Christmas movies on the sofa. I’d...I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” She prompts gently, her heart swelling at the picture now in her head. She’s thought about it too, of course, now more than ever – buying presents for her seemingly endless nephews and nieces, seeing Gina’s seemingly endless pictures of Iggy in adorable little jumpers and tiny bedazzled mittens, dodging her mom’s near constant invasive questions about grandchildren despite the six she has already.

She’s already far too excited for their first Christmas as a married couple, preparing for a few nights spent crammed into the usual cabin upstate with the whole family. It’s going to be complete chaos. She can’t wait.

“Yeah. Not right now, because I still like having you all to myself way too much...but soon. One day. I just...I really want...” He trails off but he doesn’t need to say any more – she hopes how she squeezes his hand is enough of an answer. They’ve talked about this a lot, even more so since getting married.

Not now, but soon. Not if, but when.

“Me too.” Amy says, trying very hard not to spoil a perfect and romantic moment by crying at how much she loves her husband, burying her head deeper into the fabric of his sleeve so that he won’t notice. He kisses the top of her head and she can tell they’re both thinking about the same thing, warmth spreading through her whole body at the thought of soon sharing the holidays with kids of their own.

She could never picture having kids so easily until they’d been together for a while and she realised she just couldn’t have had them with anyone else. He’s always had a way of altering her life calendar in ways she couldn’t possibly expect, and she doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing it.

Amy just hopes to God that they won’t inherit his eyes, because otherwise they’ll probably be able to get away with anything.

Like getting to her to go out in the snow, for example – she’s basically resigned to her fate as soon as she sees Jake looking longingly as the picturesque winter painting outside their window.

“You want us to go out there, don’t you.” She says grimly, almost physically shivering in anticipation of how cold it is. He turns to look at her in mock offense, eyes glinting.

“Amy Santiago-Peralta, don’t tell me we’re not going out in the snow. You love snow!”

“I love the idea of snow, in theory. In practise it’s cold and wet and gives you an excuse to throw things that are cold and wet at me.”

“...You also get to throw cold and wet things at me?” He offers as a tempting incentive, and she sighs, taking one last glance outside – even she has to admit, it looks beautiful out there.

“Fine.” She says, resignedly, and it’s almost worth it for the gleeful look on his face as he speeds out of the kitchen to get dressed. She pads out of the kitchen after him, glancing at their beautifully (and haphazardly, due to the chaotic nature of her husband’s artistic visions) decorated tree.

Suddenly, Amy can’t help imagining toys in bright colourful wrapping paper and bright twinkling fairy lights, the adorable pitter-patter of tiny excitable footsteps waking them up far too early on Christmas morning, leaving treats out for Santa, baking Christmas cookies together as a family. She smiles brightly, wondering when that picture got so vivid, wondering how soon that might become a reality.

Amy has a feeling that, very soon, maybe even this time next year, it’s going to get even harder to stick to her usual Tuesday morning in late December routine.

She can’t wait.

#b99 #peraltiago #b99 fic #my writing #jake x amy #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #shut up sian #merry christmas/happy holidays!#this has no plot but it's christmas so who cares #hope you enjoy <3

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joeys-piano · 5 years

Note

35-37 for odazai? :3

…I have my suspicions that you chose these questions because of a very cute idea I told you yesterday :3c I ended up writing mini-drabbles for each quesiton, so I’ll put the last two under a read more if you don’t mind~! Each mini-drabble is a mix of fluff, angst, and heart wrenching emotional comfort. I hope you enjoy, Kere.

Get to know my ships and preferences

35. Describe one dateImagine, if you will, a carnival along the piers that reside next to Yokohama Bay. There’s music, there’s laughter, there’s a decadence of colors and festivities, and it feels like everyone from within the city has crowded to the edge of these piers to partake in the entertainment and fun. I’d imagine that Oda and Dazai (post-Dark Era, where Oda lives) are strolling together when they happen to see the carnival from the corner of their eyes.

Strangely enough, Dazai seems a bit interested. He isn’t one to actively voice if he particularly wants something or if something has caught his eye, but Oda knows Dazai well enough. He could discern a faint glint of wonderment branded in Dazai’s gaze, and Oda comes to the realization that Dazai has probably never been to a carnival before.

Taking the initiative, Oda asks if Dazai wants to attend the carnival. In classic Dazai-behavior, he neither confirms nor denies that he wants to go, but he won’t object if it’s something that Oda’s interested in. In typical Oda-behavior, Oda says it’ll be nice to see what’s going on. He doesn’t let-on that he’s aware of what Dazai’s thinking or of what he wants. He pretends that he doesn’t notice, and he and Dazai walk into the carnival area together.

There a line of concession stands and a gallery of prize stands all around them. Families with small childrens, couples on dates, and friends are mingled around in the crowd. It’s easy to get separated if you’re not careful, and Oda finds himself reaching his hand out to hold onto Dazai’s so that neither gets lost in the crowd. From behind him, Oda can hear Dazai chuckle and Dazai tightens the grip so that neither of them are letting go.

After browsing around for about 15 minutes, walking and talking and seeing all the sights, it’s come to Oda’s attention that they haven’t done anything at the carnival yet. While both them are content with just observing and going through the carnival together, Oda wants to win something so that they could remember this moment. The prize stands look very promising. Although, Oda knows that Dazai isn’t much of a toy-lover. Not only that, most of the prizes are geared for children. However, Oda decides to do it anyway. If it looks like Dazai isn’t interested, Oda could always say that he wanted to win a toy for the children he’s taking care of. But maybe, he won’t have to use that excuse.

Dazai pauses in front of a particular prize stand that involves shooting at targets. Depending on which target you manage to hit, it corresponds to a tier of toys that you can choose from. There are moving targets and you get five tries to land a hit. Dazai has this signature smile on his face that looks like he’s up to something, but it’s also the kind of sweet of smile that only Oda gets to see. Oda realizes that Dazai wants to have a little challenge with him, and so he accepts. Armed with five, innocent rounds and plastic guns for them both, Oda and Dazai take their respective places. The rule of their challenge is simple: whoever hits and wins the highest tier toy is the victor.

Just before Oda gets a chance to aim, he notices that Dazai is standing very close to him. Close enough where Dazai could brush against Oda’s arm when he takes aim to nullify Flawless so that no cheating is involved in this little challenge. Oda glances down from the corner of his eye, and he isn’t surprised that Dazai is looking up at him with a grin that speaks more than what he’s letting on. With more seriousness and focus that’s probably required for a prize stand like this, Oda and Dazai take their five, consecutive shots.

The challenge ends with Oda as the victor, and Dazai dramatically laments that if he had been a second quicker or a second later, he could’ve won against Oda. Oda hides his smile behind the large teddy bear that he wins. He could see how vivid and alive Dazai’s body language is, and it looks Dazai might have a thing for prize stands. Perhaps they’ll tackle a few more before ending their date for the day. But before they do that, Oda gives Dazai the teddy bear. Dazai holds it as if he’s holding an unruly puppy or toddler. He jokes that if this is a pity gift, he’s not interested. Taking that into consideration, Oda takes back the teddy bear and presses a kiss on its nose. When he gives the teddy back to Dazai, he presses the bear’s nose against Dazai’s cheek.

For the rest of the date, Dazai clings to the teddy bear as if it’s his everything. Perhaps, this was a significant reason why Dazai lost in many of their prize stand challenges. But hey! – he gains sweet affections, so it’s a win-win.

36. Describe one example of comforting after a bad dayA typical bad day for Oda, in this alternative reality where’s alive and is a writer and loves Dazai, are those days where it’s hard to put the pen to paper. He has ideas and they’re there, but this is one of those days where he doesn’t trust himself. Oda doesn’t trust the words that he’ll be putting down. He wants to believe that what he’s writing is good enough, but he’s holding himself back. Are his ideas strange? Are they too out there? Would anyone be interested?

Although he wasn’t a stranger to these questions, the doubt they leave behind leaves a bitter taste in Oda’s mouth. Sitting back in his seat and glancing out the window, Oda can see the ocean and the gulls flying in the distance. He realizes that he’s been sitting by the window for about three hours now. He hasn’t written anything, but he’s thought of many things. He has a lot of ideas that peel back the veil of humanity’s disguise, ideas that have profounded him for a long time since he left the Port Mafia. Morality, ethics, the way of life, and moving on are core themes to his ideas. But translating them onto paper in such a way that seems inviting and personal eludes him still.

Setting his pencil down, Oda decides to call Dazai. It’s rare for him to call his lover, but Oda wants to hear someone else than his own thoughts right now. It takes three rings before Dazai picks up, and Oda suspects that Dazai is on a mission. There are a few clues on how he knows: the low panting he hears from the speaker, how Dazai sounds hushed and his voice is barely discernible from his breaths, and how Dazai calls him ‘Sakunosuke’ than ‘Odasaku’ at that moment. Oda has come to learn that when Dazai calls him by his given name, something serious has happened. Oda excuses himself and apologizes for calling at an inopportune moment. He hears a light chuckle from the other end of the line, and Dazai tells him it’s alright.

Judging by his tone, Oda suspects that an enemy had fallen right into one of Dazai’s traps and they’re struggling a bit more than what he’d like. A myriad of questions blossom from Oda’s mind, but he can ask Dazai later. Oda goes around the bushes for a little bit as he talks about the view of the ocean and of the gulls flying in the distance. He paints a very beautiful image for Dazai to imagine, and it seems to steady Dazai’s breathing. Enough, where Dazai and Oda could now carry a conversation as Dazai finished what he started. There’s a moment where Oda hears whimpering from an unknown individual – male, late 30s – and Oda pulls his phone away so that Dazai could do what he needed to do. After about a minute or two, he hears Dazai calling for him and Oda puts the phone back against his ear.

There seems to have been an outsider who had leaked information about the Armed Detective Agency and was stirring up trouble. Dazai has his suspicions on who could’ve sent the agent, but he’s waiting for the real enemy to their next move before he can safely deduce who it is. Oda listens quietly and ask if everyone at the ADA is okay. Dazai reassures that things are fine for now, but there’s no telling for how long this peace is going to last. There may be another war and Dazai uses a safeword that Oda recognizes. It’s a safeword that they both agreed on in case shit hit the fan, where Oda and his kids were to leave Yokohama and head towards a safe house that no one else knew about. Oda understands the severity of the situation now.

After a few moments, Dazai asks Oda why he called. It’s so rare for him to do so, and Dazai was simply curious. Oda says that it’s nothing important, but Dazai reassures him that it must be important if he decided to call. With a brief sigh, Oda talks about how he hasn’t written anything during the past few hours and that he fears that he may be way over his head with these story ideas. Dazai asks why he’s afraid. It takes a moment before Oda could respond. There’s a variety of reasons why he’s afraid, but he knows that Dazai is busy with an issue right now. Would it bother him if Oda talked about this?

Dazai isn’t bothered. If anything, he wants to share the weight of the burden so that Oda doesn’t feel like he’s carrying this on his own. Hearing that, Oda speaks. He speaks about his concerns, about the doubtful voices in his head, and how it’s been difficult to write lately. It feels like a weight is coming off his shoulders as Oda talks about this. After listening to everything, Dazai gives Oda a few words of advice.

“It’s second-nature to pinpoint time as a measure of productivity, but I think a more accurate measurement of productivity is seeing the results of what you’ve done instead. Three hours would’ve passed, regardless if you worked on your writing or not. However, even though you didn’t spend your time writing, you spent your time cultivating your ideas and fleshing them out to their fullest potential. You’re building your ideas from the ground up and you’re making your fictional world more believable with every second. That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t do anything about it. Even though you didn’t write, it doesn’t make you any less at what you do.”

Dazai definitely has a way with his words, and Oda embeds those words into his heart as he thanks Dazai.

37. Describe one reunion after time apartThe most beautiful moment in his life was when Dazai saw Oda again. After months of not having seen each other because of missions and because the state of Yokohama was at risk, it felt so wonderful to see Oda again. It felt so wonderful to hold him in his arms again. Dazai is barely holding himself together when he sees Oda and the kids stepping off from the metro. All of their luggage, all of their toys, and the life they lived during the past few months are dragged behind them.

The kids are alive and safe. Oda looks worn and exhausted, probably wishing for a coffee or three before he spots Dazai. Dazai is coming down the stairs and when he reaches the terminal, the kids sprint from their spots and tackle him with hugs. It’s a frenzy of cuddles, and “I miss you” and “Did you beat the bad guys?” and “We’re okay!” Dazai crouches down and hugs each of the kids in a tight, longing way. His arms are quite sore when he’s done, unused to giving long hugs like that. However, Dazai still has some strength on him when he hugs Oda.

For a moment, it looks so one-sided. It looks like Dazai just collapsed against Oda’s chest and Oda is holding him together. Dazai isn’t one to cry. Very rarely does he allow himself to do so, and this is one of those moments where he sobs quietly against Oda’s heart and thanks every deity that exists that no one has died. When Dazai reaches for Oda, it’s in a painful, heart wrenching way. Oda loosens the embrace a little bit so that Dazai can breathe. He draws reassuring circles along the square of Dazai’s back, and whispers quietly that all of this is real.

He’s okay. The kids are okay. They’re all here now.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #oda sakunosuke #odazai #i pretty much wrote mini heartfelt drabbles as a response for each question #that was a lot of fun

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pythonees · 6 years

Text

Fire in Me - P.Lahote

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Fire in Me - Paul Lahote

June 10th, 2018

Word Count: 2,691

Requested: @crazypup110

A/N: Every time I would start writing this fic, I would get distracted by Stardew Valley, and would end up trying and failing to edit the xnb files so that my shit would look pretty. But here I am, posting another fic 5 days later. Who am I?

p.s. the ending is shit, but I like how this turned out.

When Y/N’s parents up and moved the family across the country during the winter holidays to get away from a large coven of vampires, they should have known that the cloudy city of Forks, Washington was a bad choice. The entire place screamed ‘vampire’, from the little to no sunlight, and the endless forest surrounding the city where they could easily hide. Thankfully, by the time they got to Forks the coven that was there was already long gone, the only thing left was the faint traces of their scent lingering just outside of the city, probably where they lived, and around a house in town the Y/N had passed several times when going for a walk.

It took her less than an hour on her first day of school to figure out who the vampire coven was, and that one of them was dating Bella Swan, who lived in the house his stench seemed to cling to. Lunch was the first time she caught sight of Bella, and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought that Bella was a vamp herself. Though there were telling differences, like the fact that her paleness made her look sickly and haunted, heavy bags under her eyes that were different from when a vampire hadn’t fed in a while.

She was sitting alone at a lunch table, the one that the Cullen’s ‘ate’ at every day. Feeling bad for the girl, Y/N ignored the vampy smell left on the tables and sat with her the next day. Bella didn’t say anything past a mumbled hello when Y/N introduced herself, but Y/N expected as much. Instead, she just sat with the silent girl and ate her lunch, giving her some sort of company while she wallowed in her misery.

That weekend her parents informed her that they weren't the only shifters in the area. Only thirty minutes away lived the small pack of wolf shifters, made up of a few of the Quileutes that lived at La Push. The pack was small, made up of only four members, and from the looks of it, would not be gaining any more members now that the Cullen’s have left the state. Since Y/N had long since shifted on a trip to visit her family in Denmark three years ago, she had long since gotten control of her anger, and the chance of accidentally setting something on fire like her brother did in early December.

Y/N doesn’t remember how many days she spends sitting with the silent girl before she finally talks, nearly two weeks, if she had to guess, which is around the time that the smell of the Cullens has long since disappeared and has been replaced by the smell of something distinctly canine, and the woods. Once Bella opens up, Y/N end’s up getting along with the awkward girl more than she thought, and the two of them spend time together after school when she isn’t hanging out with Jacob, a boy from her childhood that lives in La Push.

Every time Y/N would hang out with Bella after she was with Jake, the smell of dog would be slightly stronger than when it was at school, so either Jake was pre-shift, or was living with or near someone that already has shifted. With little effort, she was able to get Jake’s last name from Bella, and was able to guess that he was going to shift, and soon, should he be in the right environment.

The last week of February came with Jake’s perfect environment in the form of Mike Newton. The week prior Bella had finally worked herself up to talking to her old friends again, trying to rekindle the bonds she had broken. Mike had tried his luck at a date, but Bella either didn’t notice, or was blatantly trying to make it not be a date, because she extended the invitation to everyone at the table, which now included Y/N, and then Jake, later that night.

With the bug going around, almost everyone bailed, either because they were sick, or to take care of someone that was, leaving Bella, Y/N, Mike and Jake to watch the movie. It all started off well, if Y/N ignored the fact that both Jake and Mike were fighting for Bella’s attention. The movie wasn’t all that good, but it wasn’t horrible, the bloody, gory fights gave a bit of morbid entertainment.

The passage of time is always warped in movie theatres, but Y/N knows it hadn’t been long before Mike was booking out of the theatre with his hand firmly clasped across his mouth. With a heavy sigh, the remaining three dragged themselves from their seats to follow the sick boy out. When the got in front of the bathrooms they could hear him puking, so Bella poked her head in to tell them where they would be waiting for him.

Bella and Jake migrated to the stairs, talking quietly to each other. Y/N moved to be as far away from them as possible while still being in view, one of the nearby screening rooms was playing an action movie, which thankfully drowned out Jakes attempts at flirting. Y/N didn’t have to loiter around for too long, because Y/N could hear Mike coming down the hall. He looked sickly, face pale with a green tinge.

Mike looks guilty for ruining the night and states that he has to go home, guessing that he caught the flu that's going around. Y/N didn’t mind, and neither did Bella, it seemed, but Jake looked livid, jumping up from his spot on the steps to walk up to Mike. Mike takes a reflexive step back, but weakly glares at Jake, “What’s your problem?”

“Right now? You are my problem,” Jake sneers, looking over Mike in disgust. From what Bella told Y/N of Jake, this was completely out of character for him, and one quick look to Bella confirmed it. Y/N slowly made her way forward, wanting to intervene if it looked like Jake was going to shift, “Feeling sick? Maybe you need to go to the hospital. Do you want me to put you in the hospital?”

“Jake… Jake, the movies over. What are you doing?” Bella moved to stand between the boys, putting a hand on Jake's chest to push him back, “Whoa. Jake, you’re really hot. Like, it feels like you have a fever. Are you okay?”

That instantly set off alarm bells in Y/N’s head, and she took long strides to get next to Jake and could feel the anger and heat coiling off of him, “She’s right, you don’t look so good, either,” Y/N put a hesitant hand on his shaking arm, steering him away from the other two when he surprising didn’t put up a fight, too busy trying to figure out what was wrong with him, “Let me drive you home so you don’t have to wait around for someone to pick you up while you sick.”

Dragging him to her beat-up car was easy after she shoots a half-hearted farewell over her shoulder. It wasn’t until Y/N had driven out of Port Angeles and through Forks did Jake seem to calm himself down, the shaking still there but under control, “Why are you helping me.”

“It’s better this way. Safer.”

“What does that even mean, safer?” Jake was angry again, the anger shaking his body so much Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to get him to La Push before he shifted, but she hoped they were close enough for the Uley pack to help, “Are you saying that I would hurt Bella?!”

“Not on purpose, but I didn’t want to take any chances so far away.”

“Away from what?!” It seemed like that was as far as Y/N was going to get Jake, quickly pulling over onto the side of the road. Y/N quickly shut off the car and hopped out, Jake following her example. He went to open his mouth to yell at Y/N some more, but his body couldn’t contain it any longer, and he shifted into a large wolf, right there on the side of the highway. There was a loud, horrible screeching sound that caused Y/N to wince. Her car shifted enough to lightly knock into her from the force of Jakes flailing limbs.

The transition startled Y/N, who was not expecting him to be so large in his shifted form. Y/N ignored whatever fear she had and rounded her car to approach Jake, who was now trying and failing to stand on his new limbs, freaking out as he did so, “Hey, hey, you’re okay. Everything's going to be fine, okay?” Jake stopped moving, looking at Y/N in fear and confusion, but nodded his head, “Good. Now, I know you don’t really know how to walk yet, but we really need to go into the woods in case someone comes down this road, okay?”

It took longer than Y/N wanted for Jake to stumble his way into the forest, but he once he was walking properly on his feet there was no stopping him. He was running around the trees, though still clumsy, did so with much more grace then Y/N did her first shift, and she was smaller than him. Y/N watched him run around silently, letting him have his fun while she waited for someone to come get him.

Y/N could tell the moment it happened, one minute Jake was running around, and the next he was stopping so fast he fell over himself, landing on his face. The laugh Y/N let out was loud, and it startled Jake even worse because he flinched so hard it probably hurt, and whipped his head around to look at Y/N, “I take it you can hear them in your head now?”

Jake nodded, and got back up to his feet, looking around the woods. He kept scanning the area, but then stopped, looking out in the direction of La Push, where his pack was coming from. It took several seconds before Y/N could hear them, senses less than Jakes when not she’s not shifted. By the time she could hear them it took just as much time for them to descend on the two of them, followed by the now multiplied smell of dog. The four of them all watched Y/N wearily, but they figured she wasn’t much of a threat, and turned their to Jake instead.

They were obviously communicating with each other, and Y/N watched on silently as they spoke with Jake, probably filling him in on what was going on. It took a couple of minutes, and just as Y/N was about to sit down to give her feet a break, Jake shifted back in all his naked glory.

“Sorry about your car,” Jake muttered, either not realizing he was naked, or not caring that he was. Either way, Y/N was used to it, having shifted so many times with her old pack back in Denmark that nudity was as common as breathing air, so she just waved him off.

“It’s fine, this isn’t the first time something like this happened, and it won't be the last,” Y/N said, giving him a hopefully comforting smile, “I’ve got some spare clothes in the car, though I don’t know if they’re going to fit you.”

It seemed like he didn’t know he was naked, because at the mention of clothes he looked down in horror, quickly covering himself up with his hands.

“You must be the shifter the elders were telling us about,” Y/N startled, having not noticed that anyone else shifted. When she turned to address whoever spoke to her, she noticed that all of the others have shifted, and were smart enough to bring pants.

“That’s me, your friendly neighbourhood hellhound, at your service,” Y/N bowed, giving him a bright smile despite the hard look she was getting from the man that spoke to her, who she guessed was Sam Uley, since everyone else in his pack is around her age, and was definitely not that.

“Aren’t hellhounds supposed to reek?” One asked, an amused smirk on his face.

“Only the ones guarding an entrance to the underworld,” Y/N stated, “Otherwise, it’s just fire and ashes. Much better than the wet dog smell, I can assure you.”

“What was that?” One growls, and is seemingly angry at the flip of a switch. He’s not the tallest of the four, that honour goes to Sam, but it's a close second. He is more intimidating, muscles more pronounced, making him wider, and more threatening than Sam. The guy takes a threat forward, sizing her up, and despite the fear of being outnumbered four to one, excluding Jake, she holds her ground, looking up at him the stare him down.

When their eyes meet it like Y/N’s world shifts, a searing, white-hot pain races up her, branding her with nearly invisible marks that can only be seen by those with enhanced vision. Though she had heard stories about finding her mate from her parents and grandparents, she was not expecting the pain, causing her to gasp, though it quickly becomes bearable, like the beginnings of a headache.

Through her pain she didn’t notice the dazed like state the guy was in, but did notice when he ran up to her, concern swimming in his vision, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, just let me…” Y/N trailed off, hands reaching out for him. He was confused, but stepped closer, reaching out to take her outstretched hands. As soon as their skin touched the pain stopped, fading away in the form of glowing, fiery red veins that transferred painlessly over to Paul, before disappearing into both of them.

“Whoa…” Paul muttered, looking down at their still clasped hands in awe, “What was that.”

“The mating bond forming. All hellhounds have an extra, hidden reservoir of fire that lays dormant in their body until they meet their mate. Once they meet it activates, flaring up in a random spot on their body. It hurt at first, though it’s not that bad. It only goes away once we touch our mate.”

“So what, now I’ve got a piece of you in me?”

Y/N nodded, smiling when she noticed the soft, affectionate look in his eyes, “Something like that, yeah. It’ll only flare up when you’re under extreme physical stress, like if you’re injured. It’ll keep you going longer than your body normally could, to help you live if I’m not around.”

“As if I need your help, short stuff.”

Y/N smirked, using their still clasped hands to tug Paul down to her height. The sudden movement and her unnatural strength caught him off guard, and Y/N barely had enough time to rear back to avoid their heads knocking together. Y/N let go of one of Paul’s hands to instead wrap it around his neck, keeping him in place as she leant forward to whisper in his ear, “We’ll see about that.”

Her warm breath ghosted over his skin, making him shiver at the feeling. Y/N could feel his now free hand coming up to loop around her waist, but she danced away, just out of reach with a playful smirk on her face. With his attention fully on her, she let the fire consume her, shifting into a flaming dog. Though unnaturally large, she was still smaller than their shifted form.

Y/N made sure all eyes were on her, before turning towards her car. She crouched down, planting her feet firmly in the ground, before bolting, disappearing in a streak of fire, faster than they ever could be in. She could hear the other boys hooting and hollering, amazed by her speed, but the only one she could really hear was her mate.

“That’s my girl.”

Tagged: @wh1sp3r1ng-impala

#twilight #twilight eclipse #Twilight New Moon #Twilight Breaking Dawn #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #reader insert #x reader #reader interactive #imagine #twilight imagine #cauldron

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danandthereader · 6 years

Note

Hi! I firstly wanted to say that I absolutely love your fics! Second, I have a request... what if the reader was playing video games with Dan and he kept trying to distract them by calling them cute names and acting all lovey-dovey? Bonus points if they're recording for the grumps channel!

A/N: His there, lovely ! Thank you so much for the compliment; I’m glad that you like the fics. Can I just say that this is a totally cute prompt and I am so happy to finally be able to fill it ? ♡ I love getting to write Dan as Not So Grump, if that makes sense, especially when he’s being ultra lovey-dovey. Thank you so much for sending it in, and an even bigger thanks for your patience on me filling it. I hope you love it as much as I loved getting to fill it; heart you !

GAME OVER

To say that the Grumps recording room was comfortable was giving it just a bit too much credit. Honestly, the placed with sort of packed, one wall entirely covered in shelves that housed their extensive videogame collection and the rest of the room dedicated to recording equipment and various systems to play them. Yet in this room, with its worn couch and shoddy A/C and shoulder-to-shoulder atmosphere, you couldn’t help but feel welcome. It was just you in the room - Dan and Arin were both taking five just outside - but you stayed to take in the silence, only broken up by the laptops humming.It wasn’t often that you got to really take in the fact that you were part of this now - not like the boys were, of course, but you always got to help out with something, from editing to queuing up and posting videos - mostly because your days always flew by in a blur. Now, though, just for a moment, you could really appreciate it.

Just then, the door opened, revealing the two stars of the show, looking ready to go, followed suit by Ryan. “So, we’ve got a couple different ways to spend the rest of the afternoon,” the editor began. “We can bag a few episodes of Zelda, Monopoly for Versus, let’s see…” He was listing things off the top of his head. “Oh! There’s also Sonic…” You let out a tiny huff of amusement, that current series having particularly entertained you each time you’ve watched it. It seemed to remind everyone that you were there, and Dan turned to you. “What do you think?” Sweet of him to include you in the conversation; you smiled a bit. “Sonic’s always a big hit,” you replied easily. “Or… Hm…” You were lost in thought as well. “Can you guys afford to start something new?” That caught all of their attention. “Like?” prompted Arin, curious at the prospect. You thought for another moment. “Do you have a Spongebob game?” That made him laugh out loud.“What about Snipperclips?” Dan asked, perking up just a bit. “Yeah! I loved getting to see you two play that,” you agreed, beaming. Looking to Arin, the smile that was on his face was more smug than anything. “Oh, he doesn’t wanna play with me,” he added, giving his best friend major side-eye. It was then that the two looked to you, and you got it. “Wh- Me?” You’d never been on Grumps before, and even if you had been dating Danny for the past three or so months, you hadn’t expected things to cross over quite like this. “I’ll set up the mics.” All three of them were moving then, going to rig things up, leaving you all together confused of what just transpired.All at once it hit you - You were going to be on an episode of Game Grumps. This was definitely not how you thought the day was going to go, but when working in a place like this, was anything ever set in stone?

Following suit, you took a seat on the couch next to Dan, bringing your legs up and crossing them over one another. As Arin finished adjusting the mics and levels, and Ryan dug out the Switch controllers and game, you felt a gentle bump against your shoulder. Knowing who it was, you smiled a bit and bumped right back. “How ya feelin’?” the curly-haired one asked, voice kept low to stay between the two of you. “Thoroughly confused,” you replied, equally soft and smiling more. “Why am I doing this with you again?” He chuckled. “Because you’re great. ” That seemed enough of a reason for him; you playfully rolled your eyes. “If at any point you don’t feel comfortable, just tell me, and we’ll pause, and we’ll tag you out, all right?” Your eyebrows furrowed; that had never happened in any Grumps episode. “The audience won’t mind, I promise.”Getting a thumbs-up, the capture was started, the timer began, and Dan introduced the two of you.“Been a while since we’ve played this. Hey everyone!” His on-screen voice wasn’t all that different than his off-screen one, all chipper tones and musical cadence. “We have a very special, new guest me playing this very adorable game…” You smiled a bit as you leaned in. “Hey there,” you greeted simply, hoping you came off confident. “You ready to play some Snipperclips, lovely?” The nickname made you blink, but reply, “Let’s get to it!”Breezing through the first few stages, you two came to a point where you couldn’t quite pass. “What are we supposed to be doing here?” Dan wondered aloud, running back and forth across the screen with his little yellow character. “I think we’re supposed to get the little orbs into their pockets?” Dumb answer; you cringed. “Well, yeah, of course that,” he replied, chuckling. “But how?” As you mimicked him - taking your little pink character and running them back and forth across the stage - you studied the layout. “Well, maybe if we do this, and th- Hey!” He had hit the button that clipped you, cutting a piece from your character with the little thing going oh!. You now had a very pointed half and a rounded-out, untouched half. “Rude!” He was laughing. “But you look so cute now! Like a pink punk rocker,” he insisted as you chased him around the screen. “Not quite as cute as you look in real-life right now, though.” You turned pink at the sudden compliment, stopping the chase and hitting the button to reset your character. “Don’t think this is over,” you muttered, mostly into the mic for the audience to hear.

Eventually you did get past the level, working your way to an underwater mission that required you to cut each other into certain shapes. “Okay, this’ll be easy!” Your voice radiated enthusiasm, comfort having settled in at this point, Dan’s reassuring words from earlier keeping your butterflies down. “Okay, Danny, c’mere.” You used a humorous voice for the next bit, channeling Arin. “I gotta cut ’cha!” His little character came to yours. “All right, baby. Cut me up.” His voice took on a tone, too, his much more sultry than yours. “Do want you want to me. I’m yours.” You couldn’t help but laugh, the pink darkening. “Okay, lover boy, calm down…” Trailing off, you began snipping away, the silence broken up by his over-the-top, overtly sexual noises. He was playing it way up for humor, but you were sort of afraid it might not be usable. “Look, I’ll fuck you when we get home, okay?” you finally blurted, voice raised with exasperation and amusement. “Ooo, that a promise?”With a huff, you finished slipping the last bit of him. “All right, your turn. Do me.” Both of you paused and looked at each other, him finally catching the flush in your cheeks and grinning from ear-to-ear. “Okay, wait-!” He cracked up. “That’s not what I meant!” He did begin snipping at you in-game as well, through the laughter, keeping the game going. “You know I’ll do you right, baby girl.” Jesus. You let go of the controller and moment and put your face in your hand. “Oh no, I’ve broken you!” He hadn’t stopped the game though. “I’ve actually broken her. I’m so sorry.” His laughter had diminished to chuckles. “Hold on, let’s at least finish this level, and we’ll call it, yeah?” You looked up from your hands, noting that he had finished. “Sounds good,” you breathed, gentle laughter punctuating your sentence.Picking up the controller, you rotated your character, hopped on top of him, and the level cleared with the usual confetti and cheering. “We did it!” he accounted happily. “We’re such a good team.” He leaned over, setting his head on your shoulder and looking up at you with bright hazel eyes. “God, I hate you,” you muttered, knowing the mic had picked it up and knowing you hadn’t meant it at all. “Aw, no you don’t,” he replied, letting your mic pick him up as well. “You looove me.” The teasing tone made you sigh. “Much to my opposition,” you amended, laughing gently. “How about a ‘Next time on Game Grumps’ for the outro?” You turned to the mic. “Next time on Game Grumps... Something else!” The two of you laughed together. “Perfect. See you later, lovelies!” Lifting himself from your shoulder, he stopped the recording, then the capture, and turned to you.“We did it!” You shoved him lightly, grinning and shaking your head, no malice in the movement but getting him to widen his eyes. “What?” He was playing dumb, which made you shove him again. He took it, but rebounded quick, leaning in and kissing you lovingly.

#danny sexbang #dan avidan #dan x reader #dan avidan x reader #reader insert #anonymous #answered #req fill

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missmelpcmene · 5 years

Text

The Breaking Point —Chapter 2

Originally posted on Fanfiction.net in January of 2009.

DISCLAIMER: The places and characters featured hereinafter are the property of Warner Bros., Joel Shumacher, Janice Fischer, James Jeremias, and Jeffrey Boam and no attempt is being made by the author to claim ownership or profit from the use of the aforementioned characters. The views represented herein do not necessarily represent the views of the original authors and any character names or places mentioned in the original works belong to the copyright holders and are used in this story for nonprofit entertainment purposes by an amateur writer. The original characters used in this story are the creative property of Miss Melpomene and are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

"When we recall the past, we usually find that it is the simplest things - not the great occasions - that in retrospect give off the greatest glow of happiness."

"You need some help, sweetie?" Melissa looked up from the map she was reading and found an older man —older than her anyway in comfortable traveling clothes staring at her. The bus station was close to empty at seven fifteen at night. Most people preferred to leave for a trip in the morning, she supposed. This man already had a ticket in his hand, a suitcase in the other. She had been trying to make herself as invisible as possible, hiding her face behind the map and her hair. This man had seen her despite her attempts to shrink through her chair into the floor, she only hoped that he wouldn't find her out.

"No." She told him, trying to put her desire to end the conversation as quickly as possible into her voice. He just smiled.

"Where are you headed?" He asked, and she hesitated. She didn't care where she was going, just as long as there was enough distance between her and Renee. She read once that if you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.

"Far, far away." She answered after a long moments pause, looking down at her map again.

"Running away, huh?" Melissa tried not to let her surprise show, but the man laughed anyway. "I recognize the look. When I was about your age I was living with my granddad. My parents were in a car accident when I was real small, so I don't even remember them." Melissa was quiet. Her parents may have been gone, but at least she had had the chance to know them. "My granddad raised me, but he started to go a little crazy the older he got. Senile, you know?" Melissa nodded. She knew all about crazy. "Anyway, he started knocking me around and I thought that running away would make things better so I bought a bus ticket and headed west to a town called Santa Carla. I used to go there during the summers when I was little. Granddad used to show me pictures, they have a boardwalk there, right on the beach." Melissa wondered what it would be like to live someplace with a beach and a boardwalk. "You know the place?"

She shook her head. "No."

The man smiled and spoke again. "It's where all the kids who run away end up." Melissa tilted her face at the man with a faraway look in her eyes.

"Like Neverland." She said.

"Yeah," the man laughed. "except when I got there I didn't find no Peter Pan." She looked down at the map in her hands and tried to find Santa Carla with her finger. The man peered over her shoulder and jabbed at a spot on the map with his finger. "Right here." Melissa's spirits rose. It was seventy-two miles south of San Francisco, over eight hundred miles from Seattle and Renee.

"I know what it feels like to feel like you can't run far enough." The man said quietly, smiling at her. "But be careful out there, sometimes there are worse things out there than what you're running from."

She frowned, considering what the man said before she answered him. "Thank you." She whispered. She could do it. She had to do it. Her father was gone and she wasn't go to spend another minute alone in that house with that woman. Whatever was in Santa Carla had to be better than staying with Renee.

The girl working the ticket counter was probably only a year older than her, maybe even someone she went to school with, and Melissa tried not to make eye contact with her as she rapped on the glass separating them to get the girl's attention. "Do you have buses that run to Santa Carla?"

"One way or round trip?" The girl sighed at her, popping her bubblegum with her teeth without looking up from her computer even once.

"One way." When Renee contacted the police, and she would, the police would check the bus and train stations. It might take them awhile, but they would figure out where she went and she would just have to hope what the man said about Santa Carla was true. If there were as many runaways there as he said, nobody would even look twice at her.

"Departure time is 7:30 pm." Melissa glanced at her watch, it was 7:20 now.

"Approximate arrival time is 12:45 am tomorrow. Trip duration will be one day, five hours, and fifteen minutes. You'll transfer buses once in Eugene, Oregon and again in Redding, California. Ticket cost will be ninety-seven dollars."

She couldn't help smiling as she slid a hundred dollar bill under the slot in the glass. Even with the cost of the ticker, and allowing fifty dollars for food expenses during the trip, she still had over six hundred dollars to start her new life in a new city.

The girl behind the glass typed something into the computer and something printed out of the machine beside it. She slid her ticket and her change back to her along with a printout explaining the stopovers the buses would make during a trips for mealtimes and to pick up new passengers. Melissa smiled at the ticket girl and thanked her. The girl waved her off, lifting her eyes for the first time. "Have a nice-" she stopped, giving Melissa a curious look. "Hey, don't I go to school with you?"

"Sorry, I'm not from around here." Was all Melissa said, turning and going out to the terminal to wait for her bus, number 1509 to arrive.

Missy knew after the eighteenth time that she looked at her watch that she was going to go crazy if she looked at it again so she took it off and slipped it in her jacket pocket.

The rain was still coming down hard, and the streets were empty except for the couple of people waiting under their umbrellas for their buses to arrive. She should have brought one, she realized, but it wasn't like she could do anything about it now. The rain poured down the back of her jacket, soaking her to the bone. Her hair was sticking to her face and neck, hanging in front of her eyes like a wet, blonde curtain.

She was about to go back inside and watch for her bus through the windows when the rain stopped hitting her. She looked up and found that someone had come up close beside her, holding a red plastic umbrella over both their heads.

"Ya look like a drowned rat, honey." The woman holding the umbrella was a couple of years older than her, or at least her makeup made it appear that way. Her skin was dark in a way that you couldn't get with time under the sun, and her hair was dry, teased high and framing her head like a black cloud. Her lips, painted bright red, peeled back to reveal a perfect smile and teeth yellowed slightly by the same cigarette she held between the index and middle fingers of her left hand. But it wasn't the woman's teeth she was concerned about, but the dark, heavy bruise that marred the makeup on the woman's right eye. Melissa tried not to stare at it as she reflexively raised a hand to rub the tender spot on her jaw where a telephone shaped bruise would be the next morning. "Nice shiner, huh?" The woman was grinning from ear to ear and Melissa's ears turned red.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I didn't mean to stare."

The woman waved her off with the same hand holding her cigarette. "Don't worry 'bout it, hon. I got this beauty from my ex, Steve. He thought I was fuckin' 'roun' on him. I wasn't, but try tellin' him that. I usually work nights so I get home 'roun' four usually, an' when I got home this mornin' Steve was waitin' on me. Said he would 'beat the whore outta me'." She held her cigarette between her lips and made quotations with her left hand. "So I waited for him to fall asleep an' I got the hell outta Dodge." The woman took one last hit from her cigarette and threw it out into the rain. "A man hits me, he only does it once." Melissa watched the rain kill the fire on the cigarette's tip, thinking about the woman's story. She barely heard it when the woman spoke again. "I'm Eden, what's the name, girly?" Melissa hesitated for a long time and Eden bumped her with her shoulder. "Fuck, I ain't gonna call the cops or nothin', an' we don't even hafta talk 'bout what you're runnin' from if ya don't wanna."

"Mel-" She started to say her full name, but stopped. After her father died, she had stopped using the name she'd answered to since she was small, calling herself by her full name instead. She had wanted to put distance between herself and the pain that hearing that name brought. Renee had never let her forget, and to hear the name her mother and father had spoken with such love spoken with such venom by a woman she hated had always made her sick. She was Missy when she was with her family, Melissa when she was with Renee. But she wasn't with Renee anymore, she was on her way to a new life, and she wanted to be Missy again. "Missy." She said at last, the first time she'd spoken the name aloud since her father died.

"Missy, huh?" Eden smiled. "Nice to meet ya." The bus pulled up in front of them, long and silver, with a leaping dog on the side. Eden folded her red umbrella and the rain flattened her hair the moment it was out of the way. She bent and retrieved the bag sitting at her feet, nudging Missy with her hip. "Ya comin' or what?"

Missy smiled though she was cold and wet, because even if she was those things, at least she wasn't alone. "Second to the right." She whispered. "And straight on till morning."

Missy had never been on a bus before, and when she leaned over to ask Eden if all buses were as nice as theirs, the older girl laughed at her.

"Ya kiddin' me? Me an' my ma took a bus 'cross town once when I was just a little thing. I remember the smell mostly. Fuckin' worse than anythin' I'd ever smelled before or since. Like someone'd been sick on a hot day an' they forgot to clean the shit up. There was this couple arguin' a couple seats away from us, an' the lady sittin' next to me kept fuckin' coughin' on me." Eden shuddered and it was Missy's turn to laugh at her. She couldn't believe she was on a bus, surrounded by strangers, and headed for a town she'd never heard of before today. It was strange, but she felt like she was on the right path. Santa Carla. The name meant freedom to her.

A half hour into their trip, the batteries in Eden's cassette player died and she decided that if she couldn't listen to music, she would settle for asking Missy about herself.

"What do you want to know?" Missy approached the conversation with caution, hoping that Eden's curiosity would not steer the topic toward her parents.

"Where were ya born?" Eden asked her, lifting her legs up onto the seat and tucking them under her body. Missy smiled.

"Seattle."

"Okay, that was easy." Eden chewed on her lip for a few seconds before she spoke again.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Um, yellow I guess."

"Why?" Missy thought about it for a minute before she answered.

"My first bedroom was painted yellow." Eden nodded her head.

"Okay. Movie?"

"Carousel." Missy replied so suddenly that Eden lifted an eyebrow.

"Never seen it."

"It's great. It's about-" Eden cut her off by asking her another question.

"Book?"

"The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde."

"What's your middle name?"

"Grace."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." They covered every topic that either of the could come up with and by the time they reached the first transfer spot in Eugene, Oregon, neither of them wanted to do any more talking. She knew a lot about Eden after a couple of hours of talking with her. She used to live in Texas before she moved to Seattle. She was on her way to Los Angeles now that she'd left her boyfriend. She wanted to be an actress but she was afraid she'd end up a whore instead like her ex had told her she was. She said a lot of the girls who went to Los Angeles to be actresses ended up as hookers instead. Missy hadn't known that. There were a lot of things she didn't know, apparently.

Missy and Eden rolled off the bus and Eden dragged her younger friend by her arm into the diner across the street. "You hungry, kid? I'm fucking starving, could eat the ass end out of a rhino if somebody'd hold his legs." Missy had heard a lot of such language in the hours she'd spent with Eden, and though it no longer surprised her to hear her new friend talk like that, it still amazed her. Eden flopped into a red vinyl booth and Missy slid into the one across from her. "What're ya gonna get?"

"I'm not hungry." Eden nodded her head, barely listening to her as she scanned the menu. When at last she put it down, she stretched up out of her seat, waved her arm and whistled at a girl wearing an apron.

"Hey, doll! Can I get some fuckin' service over here?"

Eden was loud and abrasive, and Missy had never met anyone like her before. That was probably why she liked her. Her father had been quiet and passionate, and her mother had been soft and gentle, that was, when her mental illness wasn't making her throw plates at Missy's father. Missy herself had inherited her father's wordless passion, and her mother's soft, kind nature. She only hoped that that was the only thing she picked up from her mother.

The waitress walked off with their menus and Eden folded her hands on the table and gave Missy a serious look. "What?" Missy asked, eyes wide.

"Are ya gonna tell me or what?" Missy pretended not to know what she was talking about, rubbing at a stain on the table's surface with her thumb.

"Tell you what?"

"Your story. What you're runnin' from. I know ya didn't get that welt on your jaw by walkin' inta a fuckin' door, and don't even think 'bout tryin' to sell me some shit 'bout you fallin' down the stairs." As it had turned out, the bruise from her stepmother's well placed strike had showed up earlier than she'd anticipated, and for a while, Eden had been as careful not to look at it as not to mention it.

"It's a long story, Eden."

"It's a long bus ride, Miss." The waitress came back and set a plate with a burger and fries on it in front of Eden, and a coke in front of both of them. "Ya can't keep that shit bottled up, girl. It'll eat you up."

"I'll tell you." Missy whispered, eyes darting to look at the other occupants of the diner. "Just not here, okay?" The rest of the passengers on the bus would fall asleep soon enough, riding a bus at night had a tendency to make people sleepy, and with them conked out she wouldn't have to worry about them listening in on her and Eden.

"I hear ya." Eden tucked into her burger and Missy discovered that she had more of an appetite than she'd thought and when Eden didn't seem to care after she stole a fry or two, vigorously attacked the rest of the pile. "You know, kid, I got a feeling things are gonna start lookin' up for the both of us. Can't rain all the fuckin' time, you know?"

When next bus came that would take them the next leg of their trip, Eden was still complaining about their waitress' 'shitty attitude' and Missy was nodding along. They rode for the next two hours in silence and Missy thought she'd forgotten about what they discussed in the diner until she started fidgeting again, turning in her seat to face her. Missy was sitting with her head against the cold window, watching the scenery roll by behind the glass but she could feel Eden watching her.

"Hey, Miss?"

"Yeah, Eden." She said, not looking away from the window.

"Ya gonna tell me now?"

"You really want to know?" Eden nodded, and she slid forward in her seat, an eager smile on her face. "I don't know how to start."

"How about 'once upon a time'?" Eden joked, but considering the nature of her story, Missy felt it was appropriate to begin that way.

"Okay. Once upon a time, in a magical place called Seattle," Eden snorted.

"Magic my ass." Missy ignored her, continuing with the story that was painful to remember, let alone share with another person. She talked for a long time about when things had been good, reluctant to go further into what she called The Bad Years. She told her about the time she'd fallen in the lake, and how her mother's illness had led her to believe she'd died that day. She repeated what her father had told her the night of her mother's unsuccessful murder attempt, and how her mother killed herself not long after. It was hard to talk about the years before her dad died, and even harder to talk about the miserable two she spent afterward listening to Renee tell her it was her fault.

"Bitch." Eden had said when she got to the most recent part of her story, wherein she reached the point of no return. She laughed when Missy told her about the vase. "Knocked the cunt out, huh?

She finished her story, and she didn't feel any better for it. Eden said that bottling your feelings up gave them the time to grow angry enough inside you to devour you from the inside out. Of course, the way Eden said it was riddled with poor grammar and swear words, but the meaning was there regardless. She didn't feel any different after telling her tale, just sad, and Eden rubbed her back the entire time she cried into her knees.

Afterwards Eden leaned on her shoulder and fell asleep, snoring a little. Missy took a little longer, grateful to have someone with her who wasn't much better off than her, but mostly she was thankful to have someone to talk to after so long of hiding in her room so she wouldn't have to be around Renee. After a while, she leaned back against Eden, closed her eyes, and dreamed of the beach.

Redding, California was nothing special, at least the part they stopped in to transfer buses for the second time. Compared to the rest of the state, it was pretty commonplace, nowhere near as impressive as Missy had imagined California would be. It was mid-afternoon when she and Eden stepped into a small souvenir shop by the bus terminal, browsing the assorted knick-knacks and tee shirts. Eden was down a different aisle, looking at shark's teeth, when the television in the corner happened to catch Missy's attention. The image on the screen troubled her more than whatever the reporter was saying, because the picture was one of a skinny blonde haired girl with legs that were too long and a miserable expression on her face. It was her, last school year on picture day. What the reporter was saying reached her and her stomach dropped.

"-after she viciously attacked her stepmother, Renee Van Buren, with a vase, Melissa then stole two hundred dollars from her stepmother's purse and left the house. A witness told the local police that he had seen Melissa in the local Greyhound bus terminal. It is not yet known where the bus Melissa boarded was headed, but if you see this girl, please call the number on the screen. Be advised that she may or may not be armed, and should be considered extremely dangerous." Renee's face appeared on the screen, she was crying, holding a handkerchief to her eyes.

"Please, please help me find my little girl. She suffers from the same mental illness that claimed her biological mother's life and she might try to hurt herself, or someone else, if she isn't brought home, where I know how to care for her illness." Missy was horrified, angry tears welling in her eyes. Renee was sitting there, spewing lies to the media that she was crazy and dangerous. "Please, Missy." Renee's eyes stared at her on the screen. "Please, Missy. Come home. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, and I forgive you. Please come home, your mother misses you." Missy turned away from the television, ignoring the cashier's concerned expression as she found Eden and dragged her from the store by her arm.

"Renee put my face on the news. She said I'm crazy like my mom was and that I'm going to hurt somebody." She was crying and Eden all but growled.

"That fuckin' cow. If ya were dangerous ya would've attacked me or somethin'." Missy didn't answer her, her mind was too filled with thoughts of what would happen to her if the police found her and took her back to Renee. She didn't look up from her shoes until she felt Eden throw her arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, hon."

Missy couldn't get back on the bus fast enough, and she didn't relax and unclench until they reached San Francisco. Every inch of the way she felt like Renee was in her head, telling her she'd find her soon. Eden tried to cheer her with talk about her acting dreams and what she would do to Renee if she ever bumped into her in a dark alley. When the bus rolled by the welcome sign, Missy let out an involuntary cry of relief.

"Murder capital of the world? Jesus, Miss, ya sure know how to pick 'em." Missy didn't care what the sign said, the first time she laid eyes on the boardwalk she knew that Santa Carla was the perfect place for her.

"It's perfect." She said, as eager to get out and explore her new town as she was reluctant to leave her new friend. The bus rolled to a stop, and the driver called out.

"Santa Carla." Missy whipped around to face the woman who, in the course of one day, five hours, and fifteen minutes, had become her truest and only friend. Eden didn't look at her, she was fiddling with something on her wrist.

"Here." She said, and dropped something in Missy's palm. It was a rope bracelet, and hanging from it was a wooden charm in the shape of a mask of some sort. "My ma gave me this. She was from some place in Africa and she was always goin' on 'bout evil spirits and stupid shit like that. The neighbors said it was voodoo or somethin'. My dad, he was white, and he used to get real pissed when she started goin' off but that never stopped her. The day that I moved out, she gave me this." She pointed at the charm. "See that? That's Ubuso, he's a guardian spirit. He's supposed to bring good luck and keep ya safe or some shit like that. At least that's what my ma told me when she gave it to me." She tied the bracelet around Missy's wrist and when she was finished, she leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

"I can't take your bracelet, Eden. Your mother gave it to you." Missy tried to take it off but Eden caught both her hands in hers.

"Leave it, Miss. I don't need it anymore. I think my ma would want you to have it. She would have liked you. You're as crazy as she is." Eden ruffled her hair and Missy smiled. "Take care of yourself out there, Missy. The world's a rough place, and you're a sweet kid. If you're not careful, the world will chew you up and spit you right the fuck out. So watch out for creeps and guys named Steve." Missy laughed. "Be good to yourself and never let anybody tell you who you are. You're a good kid, Miss, and you don't deserve the fucked up life God handed you." Eden was crying now. "Things are gonna change for you, kid. Just so long as you remember that no matter how bad things get-"

"It can't rain all the fucking time." Missy finished, the tears in her own eyes bringing her voice to crack.

"Damn straight." Eden leaned in and squeezed her arms tight around her. "Good luck, girl."

Missy watched the bus drive away until she couldn't see it anymore, feeling like a piece of her heart had been ripped off and was driving off in the bus with Eden. She took a long, shuddering breath and turned around to face the boardwalk. It was alive and crawling with people, even at midnight. Rich, interesting people like Missy had never seen. Boys with spiky green hair and women with tattoos all over their bodies. It was new, it was a little intimidating, but it was home now.

Her home, and as she looked around, she couldn't help thinking that the guy in the bus station had been right.

She wasn't going to find her Peter Pan here.

Thank you for reading.

#the lost boys #lost boys #lost boys fan fiction #{;the breaking point}

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