#this entire thing has been gathering in my notes app for about two years

[daftmooncretin]

rip to rian johnson but star wars sequels would be way better if ben solo was just kinda cowardly and han solo coded so he defected from the jedi and went to be a fun swashbuckling anarchist space cowboy instead

and finn and poe have to find him and try to convince him to come back to the rebellion but hes afraid who he is and what he could become

also instead of luke trying to kill his nephew for NO REASON (so insanely out of character it boils my blood) he just realises after ben dips thats hes not cut out for teaching. and is living on a mandalorian colony as rebellion liason/ambassador with chewie and sometimes lando i guess (din djarin is there) he aids the rebellion (because of course he would fuck that plotline) but he wont stay on the rebel base because he doesnt like all the chosen one clout and mandalorians are very chill and mind their own business

han and leia are still together and play active parts in the rebellion because fuck that plotline too although they do disagree about the ben situation (leia is annoyed and han is understanding) poe and ben childhood friends and for what.

in this au, rey is raised in the empire and is a sith lord but she has doubts and isnt as abjectly disgusting as kylo ren because of course not. (appears slightly too interested in the rebellion when poe is captured and maybe??? possibly lets finn and poe escape but thats up for debate.) rey gets more evil over course of movies before turning to light for plot drama and a satisfying zuko arc.

force awakens timeline

prophecy that a new jedi will rise and take down the dark side. rey and sith lord (dk who but fuck snoke im writing him out) assume it is the missing ben solo (its finn and rey tho fr) and are intent on finding him. movie opens on rey being evil probably and capturing poe. also finn as a character actully needs no real changes hes great. and then next scene space pirate ben solo doing his thing (but without identity revealed so we dont know who he is yet he may go by kylo because funny)

instead of luke poe has a lead on missing almost-jedi before he dipped ben solo and is searching for him on leias orders.(rebellion also believe the prophecy is about him. but nuh uh) torture scene and escape scene doesnt need to change but show reys nuances and how lost she is.

in the interest of narrative poe and finn still crash on tatooine but finn manages to pull poe out of the crash. (finn still gets the jacket at some point because i say so) poe is too injured to fly so they seek out help and and meet ben solo who saves them from pirates or something idk. (but neither know who the other is)

finn and poe convince ben solo to be their pilot still thinking hes a random smuggler named kylo. they get along very well, especially finn and ben. rey by this point is tracking their whereabouts

they end up on that lightsaber planet and ben gets the weird darth vader nightmare and freaks out, (hes afraid of being evil or something idk) poe is getting suspicious now also finn feels the force and takes up the lightsaber. rey comes and finn trys to hold her off. finn get hurt and drops lightsaber. ben is forced to take it up and his identity is revealed as rebel reeforcements led by han and leia arrive and they see him fighting. rey and ben have a weird charged moment (yes i guess i am still making reylo a thing but its reyben now and its woke so shh) and in a dramatic desperate effort he manages to knock her lightsaber away with the force. poe crawls into a plane at somepoint and blows up reys ship. the rebels destroy the stormtroopers but rey captures finn and escapes in a stolen ship.

ben has a oh-shit-i-said-id-never-use-the-force-again related existential crisis which makes him freak out and leaves. a distraught finn-less poe calls him a coward. poe picks up the discarded lightsaber and the jackettm and sadly packs them up. leia tells him about the starkiller and poe volunteers to go on the starkiller and save finn. han and leia have a sweet moment and han decides to go with poe on the suicide mission, chewie goes too.(chewie arrived at somepoint i guess)

mid hostage situation finn blocks reys force attempt and shes shook up. he sees something in her (finn is a beautiful sweetheart) and he trys to appeal to her. she force chokes him and books it out of there. but it is clear she fears him a little. he escapes with mind tricks and runs into han poe and chewie on the deck. finnpoe moment fr. poe gives him his jacket back in order to get the keep it it looks good on you line.

meanwhile ben is back on his ship(i guess its the falcon?) and he thinks about finn and his mom and luke or something.. a dream maybe?? idk something emotional and motivational for his arc. and he goes to a box under the floor in his ship and pulls out a green lightsaber. he turns the ship around.

on the ship poe finn han and chewie are planting the bombs and escaping when they get stopped by stormtroopers ordered by rey. poe is about to be shot by a big droid thing when it is cut in half by ben wow big reveal hes here oooo ah. rey is shot in the shoulder by chewie and angrily orders more stormtroopers. they cant take them all. han sacrifices himself by blowing up the bridge. he tells finn and poe to find luke in the mandolorian colony ben is distraught him and han have an emotional goodbye he tells him to tell leia he’s sorry and that he loves him and he proud of him then he makes chewy get ben out of there and he blows himself up. leia senses it v sad rip man but he had to die to intensify plot drama

rey chases them onto the ice planet and another weird charged moment. mind link established??? this time ben is too angry and grieving though so its not a good match and she wounds him real bad all over hes v scarred now. poe shoots at rey and throws lightsaber at finn. he gets ben onto the ship and finn and rey have the big force awakens show down. finn uses the force v powerful all that jazz the good guys get away. on the ship finn mentions how he felt a connection with rey to poe and claims he sees good in her

movie ends with meeting luke on mandolore. ben is very traumatised wont really speak to finn or poe and avoiding luke. finn returns lukes lightsaber and rey has doubts movie over. movies ends with ominous rey ben mind link

final notes (on first movie and overarching rewrite plans)

finn

finn is the protagonist of this movie so it would be much more character heavy on him them the original. more in depth on his stormtrooper trauma, how he always chooses the people he loves over the cause and his reluctance to join the rebellion. his friendship with poe and the han/leia parallel’s especially. relationships with han and ben important for his character exposition and he plays a key role in supporting both rey and bens character progression. possesses the strong sense of mercy and kindness at the heart of the star wars franchise.

rey

rey is raised in the first empire and does not know anything different. when she meets finn who was able to rebel and escape from the same system she is trapped in she becomes plagued by doubts and projects all of her hatred and resentment onto finn to compensate, but it is clear she fears him. to escape from her doubts she fixates on finding and capturing ben solo imagining him to be a frightening and terrible adversary. however when she meets him they see eachothers minds, and she sees how plagued by doubt and fear he is, how he runs from everything and he sees her too. they connect and develop a strange mutual fascination/understanding. this is put askew by finns appearance at the end of the movie in defence of ben. reys fear of finn increases when she sees the true extent of his power. she fears and hates equally finns strength of character and easy goodness and by extension hates ben for his alliance with finn. she blames finn for “taking” ben from her.

ben solo

kylo ren is a disgusting blight on the star wars names so ben solo is being completely reclaimed by me into a different character because i fucking hate that stupid pretentious eboy. instead ben solo is an incredibly han solo coded character with a heart of gold and deep love and loyalty to his friends and family. his main weakness as a character in this rewrite is his fear and lack of self belief. ben is terrified of being a jedi and of his own power. he fears his own nature and was so afraid he would become his grandfather that he ran from the jedi altogether. ben solo is a runner that wont face his problems, he runs from the jedi and from his parents to avoid failing or becoming something terrible. finn and ben recognise the need to run in eachother (although important distinction finn runs because he doesn’t want to fight for a cause. and ben runs because hes afraid he will be the reason the cause fails) and ultimately encourage eachother to break the cycle and stand their ground (well finn motivated ben in this movie, finns not fixed yet.) Bens arc in these movies is about learning to live with his own nature and fighting for what he believes in despite his fear. also dealing with mommy issues (ben is kind of jealous of poe and leias relationship the son she wanted or something blah blah blah etc) and being a malewife to his murder girlfriend. his job is kind of to support and fight with finn and later rey and help them save the world

finnpoe (will be a gay couple)

their friendship will be front and centre in these movies because they represent duty vs personal loyalty. poe puts the cause above all else and values his own life and personal relationships little. finn on the other hand is disillusioned with establishment cause of stormtrooper trauma and wants to protect himself and others from it. poe is the first person that finn truly bonds with and loves. he puts poe above everything, including being a jedi and the rebellion. this leads to a lot of fighting and discord between finn and poe as finn doesn’t understand how important the rebellion is to poe and poe doesnt get why finn is trying to protect him from it. ultimately though poe teaches finn faith and belief and finn teaches poe to accept love and value himself. (also many hanleia parallels) the two of them are the harbingers of a new age. poe as future leader of the new republic and finn as the jedi messiah or whatever. in terms of romance, im thinking slowburn. baity first movie, kiss at the end of the second and established relationship by the halfway mark of the third.

also when rey eventually joins the light in the beginning she refuses to talk to ben (cause of romantic drama i havent thought of yet but centres around some sort or betrayal in the second movie) or finn (because hes her narrative foil and slow burn best friend forever) so her first friend is poe and she kind of follows him around in her first few months before she eventually bonds with finn 4eva. her poe shadowing has lots of cute friend moments where they fly together and he tries to talk her down about finn and the ben drama but also more importantly it foreshadows her leadership ability and tactical mind as she gives him advice and aids him with the rebellion behind the scenes (also leads to leia taking rey under her wing probably because poe is her surrogate son and mirror) which will eventually lead to her and poe leading the republic together because in my mind rey is a jedi but actively a member of republic government because ben can’t do politics and finn won’t but shes great at it so she’d be a perfect jedi liason and vice president to poe. meanwhile finn and ben lead the jedi. finn as a knight travelling across the galaxy and ben as a teacher. (luke is happy in retirement rn on mandalore but leia is still probably an advisor in the republic because retirement is definitely not for her) and everyone is happy the end. force ghost han solo is clapping.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

A little Drabble that’s been sitting in my notes app forever. Has the potential to become a series/full fic if I find enough motivation. Enjoy!

Malin was nervous.

Anybody who didn’t know her wouldn’t be able to tell, but Wilhelm liked to think he knew his favourite bodyguard pretty well by now. Malin had been the captain of his guard for as long as he’d had bodyguards so he was familiar with her small, almost unnoticeable nervous ticks. She was pacing more than was necessary on the small, private plane, and kept straightening her already meticulous ponytail almost obsessively. Wilhelm would have been worried, if Joakim hadn’t been watching his longtime colleague with thinly veiled bemusement. Joakim often seemed amused by Malin, and he was the only guard on staff who didn’t seem intimidated by her, which meant that he was the only guard she was regularly on shift with. As such he’d grown to know her rather well, and seemed to find her mannerisms funny (which if he was honest with himself, Wilhelm didn’t understand in the least. Malin was many things- usually stoic- and funny was not the first word Wilhelm would use to describe her.)

So Wilhelm wasn’t concerned per se, but he was wary- something about visiting the United States for a  diplomatic meeting with FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz and his boyfriend Prince Henry of England (who Wilhelm was stupidly excited to meet if he was being honest) was stressing her out. Did it have to do with being in such a big country? Was it that Americans had a reputation for being trigger happy? Bad personal memories of the country itself? He didn’t know.

Still, Wilhelm couldn’t think too much about it’s preoccupied as he was thinking about the FSOTUS and his royal boyfriend. Not only were the two the most famous couple in the world; Wilhelm was hoping they’d be able to help him figure out the Simon situation. The situation of course, was that Wilhelm had denied their relationship in front of the entire country and told Simon he loved him, and now Simon was hardcore ghosting him. It was a thing.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that before he knew it the captain was coming on over the intercom asking everyone to take their seats as they were beginning their descent. Everyone complied, but even here Malin seemed antsy. She was too disciplined to tap her foot of jiggle her knee, but she was gnawing on her lip something fierce.

What was going on?

Twenty minutes later they’d landed and finished taxiing to a stop on the private airstrip. Wilhelm gathered his things and smoothed his suit jacket, putting on his best Crown Prince facade, as the door opened.

As head of security, Malin disembarked first, stepping out to speak to the PPO responsible for taking care of the FSOTUS, a blond mountain of a man Malin was forced to look up too. Malin was a tall woman but this man was clearly over seven feet tall and jacked, almost a head taller than Malin.

Whatever. Wilhelm was sure she could still take him in a fight if it came down to it. Probably.

Malin cleared her throat and adjusted her ponytail one more time, sticking out a hand to shake.

“Agent Cassius, nice to see you again.”

For a moment Wilhelm was afraid the man might hit her, his stony expression inscrutable. Then he let out a loud guffaw, throwing his head back.

“I forgot how odd you are Mally,” he said fondly, taking his life into his hands by ruffling her hair, messing up her immaculate ponytail, “it’s been over a year since I seen you, you didn’t come for Christmas because you’re working yourself to the bone, and you greet me- your best friend!- as agent Cassius?”

Wilhelm was shocked to see a slight flush creeping into his bodyguard’s cheeks.

“Well we are at work Cash.” She defended, but Wilhelm could see her usually unshakeable professsionalism slipping, a grin starting to sneak over her face.

“I taught you everything you know,” the man, Cash, waved away her protests feebly, “you’re not too good to give me a hug- not even if you are in charge of running the Swedish Monarchy’s security team.”

At that Malin finally laughed, before launching herself into the man’s waiting arms, more giddy than Wilhelm had ever seen her. Clearly, whoever this man was, she was absolutely thrilled to see him.

He must have been staring because Joakim snorted and murmured;

“That’s Cassius Thomson. He and I were in the academy together. We were in our last year when Malin was in her first. She was bullied something fierce before Cash took a liking to her and took her under his wing, helped her practice fighting and stuff. They’re super close, spend holidays and everything together since Malin and her parents are estranged.”

Wilhelm blinked, taking in the onslaught of information about the most private and guarded member of his team.

“Is that why she was so nervous on the way over here?”

“Probably,” Joakim nodded, “Malin always wants to prove herself and she practically hero worships Cash.”

Wilhelm glanced at where Malin and Agent Cassius were still chatting, Malin beaming and nearly bouncing on her toes like and excited toddler. He grinned- it turned out all her nervous movements hadn’t been stress they’d been excitement. It was sweet, that she cared so much about her friend and former mentor. It made her more human somehow, made her seem a little less like a living legend.

“Hey Joakim?”

“Yes your highness?”

“How would you feel about taking some overtime while we’re here so Malin can have some time off?”

Joakim grinned broadly. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea your highness.”

Wilhelm grinned, smoothing his suit one last time before going to greet the FSOTUS and Prince Henry of England. The visit was off to a good start.

[liquidheartbeat]

Rainy Dinner For Two

Iris grabs dinner from her and Barry's favorite diner on a dreary, rainy day.

Iris steps out of her car, underneath a dark gray covering of clouds.

They hang low in the sky, rippling past her quickly to the north. She hopes they’re signs of a passing shower, because she has a nice outdoor dinner with Barry planned tonight — and nothing will get in her way.

For the past six months, this has been their routine every Friday. She gets off work, then heads over to their favorite cafe and picks up their dinner. Usually, the weekend crowd has the place packed elbow to elbow, but the impending storm has run everyone indoors.

Everyone but her.

She takes in a deep breath as she walks, reveling in the earthy smell of incoming rain. The diner is nearly empty, except for the older gentleman in the booth, near the back. For as long as she’s eaten at this diner, there’s never been a day he didn’t occupy that spot.

He’s always orders the same thing. Two pancakes, three strips of bacon, an egg and Black coffee. And each time she walks into the diner, he greets her, tipping his hat forward.

Today is no different.

Iris smiles and waves, in return, then heads to the counter.

It’s a rare sight to see it completely empty, and she would take the chance to actually sit at one of the stools, but she’s already running a little late.

And Barry’s waiting for her.

At the counter, Karla, the evening waitress looks up from her phone, surprised to see a patron in this weather. Still, she smiles warmly. “Hi, Iris. What can I get for you today?”

“The usual, please.”

Karla’s nods as she writes it down by memory.

Steak, salad, potatoes au gratin. Fresh rolls. An entire pan of lasagna. And to top it all off, brownie sundaes, ice cream on the side — all of her and Barry’s favorite foods.

“Coming right up.” The woman smiles and heads to the kitchen to alert the cook that his quiet evening at work won’t be so quiet after all.

Iris is sure she hears him groan, but she doesn’t care.

She always leaves a generous tip, so he’ll live.

As she waits for her food, Iris pulls out her phone to pass the time. Her go-to app of choice is Instagram. It hasn’t always been this way;  as a journalist, she used to prefer Twitter to stay up on the news and gossip within her industry. But lately, Instagram has taken up special stock in her heart, serving as a living, breathing archive of her and Barry’s relationship.

So many beautiful milestones captured on film forever.

She finds herself scrolling through their years of pictures, at all hours of the day. Late at night when she should be sleeping at work.

Of course, her iCloud holds thousands more pictures than Instagram does, but what Instagram has that her phone doesn’t are Barry’s comments. His weird inside jokes, gentle mocking of her burnt food pictures, his excessive use of heart emojis on the rare selfies she posts, self deprecating jabs on their couple’s photos.

Invaluable expressions of their relationship through his eyes.

She smiles as she scrolls, grateful that her obsessive picture takING has served her well.

When Karla returns, Iris is deeply entrenched in her phone. “Iris?” She grunts as she lifts her huge order, tucked neatly into takeout containers. “I have your food.”

Iris looks up. “Oh.” She laughs and shakes her head, digging into her purse for cash.

The order always comes out to just under $50 bucks, another reason to love this diner. Not only is the food delicious, it’s dirt cheap. Iris always pays with a $100 bill. “Keep the change.” Her usual mantra.

Karla trades the food for the money and smiles. “Appreciate the business.”

“Of course.” Iris slides off the stool gathers the food.

As she turns to walk away, Karls says: “Give my best to Barry — he hasn’t been by in awhile.”

Iris pauses, stops dead in her tracks. “I will.” She smiles brighter glancing back at Karla, then heads for the door.

She steps outside and makes note of her surroundings.

The sky is darker, more menacing. The wind has picked up too. Iris walks in haste towards her car and packs up the food in the backseat, then rounds ducks into the driver’s side just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. Revving up her engine, she leaves the parking lot,and heads towards the sight of her and Barry’s weekly’s dinners. Her fingers tap along the steering wheel as she drives, her building anticipation fighting with her nerves.

It’s dumb to feel nervous. This is her husband, afterall. Her best friend. But the venue unnerves her. A large open plot of land, no dinner tables, no guarantee of privacy. Plus, the weather feels especially foreboding today. As she creeps down the road, the sky continues to darken. “God, this is going to be some storm, huh?” She says as she stops at a red light. Rolling her window down, she pokes her head out.

The temperature has dropped considerably and in only a few minutes at that. She glances at her backseat, checking to see if her jacket is still there.

She smiles as she realizes it is. If only she’d remembered to bring her umbrella.

For a moment, she considers texting Barry and asking him to run by the loft and pick it up. But she knows he’s occupied, so she refrains.

By the time she arrives, it’s drizzling slightly. But nothing too terrible. Her hair will be good as ruined, but she doesn't care. Her husband is waiting for her.

She gathers the food and her jacket, which she throws on her shoulder, and heads over to Barry. Thankfully, there’s no one else out, so they can have a private dinner. As she walks, she remembers that she forgot the picnic blanket to lie on the ground.

But it’s too late to turn around.

Guess she’ll have to toss these clothes once she gets home. Grass stains and mud do not mix. Still, she pushes forward, walking over the large plot of land.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she says as she sits the bag of takeout on the ground. “I got a little tied up at work.” Hands free, she slips on the jacket that’s cast across her shoulders, just as lightning illuminates the darkening sky.

She flinches slightly, but kneels to the ground in front of a large tombstone.

It reads: “Here lies Barry Allen. Born March 14, 1989. Died April 7, 2021.”  

She shakes her head to herself. Such a piss poor summary of a rich, varied life, full of service. Absolutely no mention of the sacrifices he made as The Flash, the same sacrifices that promised him an early demise.

But she knows that he gave his life for the city. So that the people he loved could live another day. She presses a hand to her heart, eyes welling up with tears.

His death had hit her like a ton of bricks.

But in the months since, she’d forced herself to hold things together and try to get as much out of life as she possibly could, so his sacrifice wasn't in vain. To keep living, to keep running. But once she’s in front of him, it’s hard to keep the promise she made to him.

These dinners are hard on her stomach, and not just because she’s eating enough food for a small family. But because there’s no goofy laughter at the end of her rant about her boss, no consoling breath when she expresses her insecurities about her position at work, no seductive crooning that foreshadows the next part of the evening, once they return home. It’s just her and the fresh air, and wilting flowers and Barry’s gravestone.

Thunder cracks overhead like a whip, pulling her from her thoughts. Lightning blazes across the sky. It’s a terrible day for an outdoor dinner. But then again, every day without Barry is terrible, when she really thinks about it. At least here, she’s closer to him.

The rain picks up, huge droplets pelting the ground. Iris pulls her hood on her head, and lays lengthwise in front of his gravesite. On a clear day, she’d trace his pitiful engraving with her fingers, but the weather has her seeking shelter inside her jacket.

She draws her arms inside her sleeves and holds the fabric together from the inside.

The food she bought is getting absolutely ruined, but truth be told, she doesn't have much of an appetite. Today, a conversation with her husband is the only thing she needs on her plate. “So, Barr,” she says, “I have so much to catch you up on…”

[waywardnerd67]

Star Crossed: Shining Star

Summary: Between filming and conventions, Jensen Ackles hardly has a moment to himself. During a panel one weekend he learns that his favorite band’s lead singer is a fan of his. Encouraged by his best friend, Jensen steps out of his comfort zone and reaches out to her on social media. That one decision throws his entire world into a whirlwind adventure. Pairing: No Pairing Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1595 A/N: None

Check out: Star Crossed Masterlist

Jensen Ackles walked into his apartment kicking off his shoes by the door. Thankful to be done filming for the week and looking forward to not having to travel too far for the convention this weekend. He loved meeting fans and performing on Saturday nights. There were some weeks where he wished he could relax in his apartment and not have to worry about traveling.

Deciding a night of Netflix and pizza was in order, Jensen took a quick shower then put on some sweats with a t-shirt. He had settled in with his pizza with The Witcher series pulled up to watch when his phone started buzzing.

“No Jared, I don’t want to come out.”

Laughter came ringing through the speaker, “Jackles, it’s only a few crew and myself chilling at our normal spot. Come out for a little while.”

“What part of no don’t you understand? The N or the O?” Jensen rubbed his forehead hearing everyone behind Jared chanting his name, “Buddy, I’m showered and in for the evening. I’ll make it up to y’all tomorrow night.”

“Fine old man, see you tomorrow.”

He groaned, ending the call and no longer interested in the show on Netflix. Turning off the tv, he walked over to his record player turning on the band he had been listening to on repeat. He discovered Wayward Stars a few years ago when a fan gifted him their cd. They were a hard rock, alternative metal band with lyrics that spoke to the soul. Also, the lead singer was drop dead gorgeous.

There had been late night shoots he would turn on one of their albums listening to (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s voice letting it seep into the far reaches of his mind. As he sat in his apartment alone, he allowed his mind to wander of singing with her on stage one day. Making a mental note to talk with Creation and Rob Benedict about getting her to come to Vegas for SNS. For now, he let the music flow over him well into the night.

The next day, Jensen slept in until he heard Clif knocking on his door. Twenty minutes later, he was walking down to the lobby where Jared was sitting with his eyes closed.

“Hey Jared!” He yelled.

Jared jumped falling off the chair he was on. Jensen and Clif started laughing as he mumbled curses under his breath getting off the floor.

“Not funny and I will get you back.” Jared’s eyes narrowed on him.

“I’m sure you will, big guy. Now, can we get on with our day?”

They had a few interviews at the studio and some meetings before they had to get ready for the concert that night. Since the convention was in Vancouver and there was no traveling, Jensen had agreed to sing that night. He was excited to perform new songs and to be in front of the fans. As they pulled into the studio parking lot, he sighed knowing it was going to be a long day ahead of him.

It was near six o’clock when Jensen arrived back at his apartment to get ready for the night. Once again, he turned on his favorite Wayward Stars song, A Light in the Dark. It was a slower song with beautiful lyrics and then a killer riff in the end. He was in his room, singing when he heard his door open. Only two people had a key to his place and he only needed one guest to know who was walking in.

“Really? Wayward Stars again?” Jared flopped down on his couch.

“I can’t help it that you have horrible taste in music.” He chuckled.

“I like the band… just not 24/7 like you.”

He rolled his eyes, shutting off his record player, “Don’t judge me. Now come on and let’s go hang out with the fam.”

Saturday Night Special was exactly that, special. Especially when they were in Vancouver. The cast and crew seemed to cut loose a little more backstage. He was catching up with Matt Cohen when they called him to get ready to go on stage. Jared and Misha were standing by the stage to watch as Rob called him up on stage.

There was nothing more exhilarating than being hit with a roar of an audience. An electric current steady ran down his body over the next fifteen minutes as he performed. When he walked off stage, as promised, he celebrated with Jared, Misha and others until the early hours of morning.

Their early morning panel was rough as the coffee worked through knocking out the whiskey from his system. The last question of their morning panel came from a young lady wearing a Wayward Stars shirt.

“Love your shirt.” Jensen smiled.

“We get it Ackles, you’re their biggest fan.” Jared jokes.

The fan laughed, “Actually my question is about them. SPN family loves this band since they are fans of the show. Wondering if you ever had a chance to meet them or if they could be invited to a SNS show?”

“Go on fanboy…”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “I would love to meet them one day and have them come perform during Saturday Night Special. I’m forever thankful to the fan who gave me their cd a couple of years ago. Many, many a night their music has kept me sane during shooting. So yeah, definitely would love to meet them.”

“I would love for Jensen to meet them so I can film it and post it on social media for everyone to see him fanboy all over (Y/N).”

The crowd ohhh as Jensen glared at Jared, “Alright, alright… I think we have to get going now. We will see y’all later.”

Waving as they walked off the stage. As soon as they were on the stairs, Jensen punched his friend in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You deserve that.” Jensen could hear Jared laughing all the way to the green room.

The rest of the convention went without a hitch. Monday morning brought a whole new week of filming. Jensen was in his trailer when his phone buzzed seeing a text from Jared.

He pulled up his app, seeing a few friends tagging him in a post from a girl named Addy. Clicking on the YouTube link surprised to see (Y/N) watching him sing from SNS.

“I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous and talented and the perfect man.” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically pretending to faint.

Text flashed on the screen, “#1 Jensen Ackles Fangirl”

He sat there stunned for a moment watching the video again. He could not wrap his mind around that she was a big fan of his. He knew the band liked the show, but to think he was perfect? His heart thumped against his chest as his shaking hands typed a message back to Jared.

Jensen took a few deep breaths before typing a Tweet then deleting it. He typed another one and deleted it. The third time he hit post and immediately regretted it, sounding like an idiot. Within minutes he received a notification from (Y/N) on Twitter.

Before he could reply, Jared was calling him, “Are you freaking out?”

“N-No… maybe, yes.” He stammered.

Jared’s laughter filled his ear, “Oh my god I wish I could see your face right now. This is your chance to make all your dreams come true.”

“I’m hanging up now, Jerk.”

“See you in an hour, Bitch.” Jared was still laughing as Jensen ended the call.

He watched the video a few more times and sent another Tweet out to (Y/N) after following her page. He went on all his social media making sure he was following her before realization hit that it seemed stalkerish.

“Jay, calm your roll.” He muttered to himself.

Putting his phone down, he tried to go over his lines for the next scene they were shooting. When he could not concentrate then he buckled, putting in his earbuds and turning on Wayward Stars. His hands were still trembling as he tried to control his fan moment.

Over the next several weeks, Jensen and (Y/N) were chatting all over social media. He posted a picture on Instagram tagging her in holding up her vinyl record.

Finally, he gathered the courage to ask for her number in a DM to chat with her more in private. Since their fans were going nuts over their new friendship. Now they would text each other everyday like they had known each other forever. She would tell him about her shows and cities she was in. He would chat about filming without spoiling anything for her. The only thing he wished could happen was their schedules to sync up so they could meet.

That thought ran through his mind everyday especially when he was at conventions like the upcoming weekend in his hometown. Thursday night, he was on a plane heading to Dallas when a notification popped up on his phone from (Y/N) posting on Twitter.

“Not next to me.” He mumbled snapping a picture of himself before replying to her Tweet.

He knew where she was off too after they had talked earlier in the day. They were still a thousand miles apart but closer than they had ever been since their friendship had begun. Settling back into his seat, he enjoyed listening to Wayward Stars newest song released that week.

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[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 18

i'm sorry this is a few days late!! it's been real Headless Chicken time around here for a number of reasons, but, here you go!

this chapter is also known as, "LUKANETTE SHIPPERS COME GET Y'ALL JUICE: Part 1"

to: Marinette hey… um. hey. just. checking if you’re okay. those postcards came out beautiful.

from: Marinette shouldn’t i be asking you that?

to: Marinette i’ll live. i’m a Couffaine, “chaos” is practically my middle name. …so… how can i pay you? cash? one of those money apps?

from: Marinette just get better 😊 that’s all.

Getting better shouldn’t feel like such a tall order. But like with other affairs, Luka will just say it’s his fault and call it a night.

It only takes a few days for his knee to go from “bulging, throbbing mess” to “sort of tolerable,” and he doesn’t understand how the time is so annoying and yet so relieving. He has to call out of work because there’s no way they—or Juleka— will let him bike or even hobble around Paris with an injury like that. But it opens up his schedule for more band practice. And more chances to talk to Bubbles. Or, more accurately, convince Bubbles that he can still hold his own and shred the setlist to pieces.

And yeah, he tries his hand at perfecting Marinette’s song, but it barely comes out any better. Whatever melody is swirling in his head sounds wrong on paper, and even worse on guitar. Checking the posts of his drafts doesn’t help, either; the likes and comments and reposts have mostly come to a halt, no matter how many times he bumps the latest version to the top of his profile.

He thinks, for the most part, that it’s doomed to live in his head forever. And he hates it. Hates that it doesn’t sound right or good. Hates that he’ll never get to share what he really hears, what he really feels... with anyone.

The best he can manage is hopping on the metro, with his guitar and his amp and his busking license tied around the belt loop of his jeans, and finding just the right stone ledge or just the right bench at the bridge with the padlocks. Sometimes he doodles, strums out whatever comes to mind and hopes it resonates with someone. Some then he takes requests or plays fan favorites, the kind that earns him a smile or even an extra euro in his case.

He’s got to make the money somehow.

One time, he plays by the fountain at the Place des Vosges. For the parents who need something to tide them over while their children ask for balloons and skin their elbows and ride the carousel one too many times. He thinks about angles, and hearing colors, and pear tarts fresh from the oven, and business cards that look like flyers. He thinks about the color blue, too. Ocean blue. But he doesn’t play it. He’ll save it for a better occasion, when he’s not weighed down with cutting deals and combing through backstory that he’s not quite sure he’ll ever earn. When he’s not thinking about Marinette dropping a few coins in his case at the padlock bridge and almost looking guilty about it.

He shakes his head and gathers his paltry earnings for the day into the side pocket of his gig bag, stretches his leg to see if it’s worth putting weight on again. It doesn’t protest too much, thank God; at least he’ll be home before it gets too dark. But the sound of music stops him once he crosses the street. A radio. And it’s playing outside.

And it’s just over his head.

It takes him one moment to realize he’s stopped in front of Tom & Sabine’s, and another to look up. There is Marinette, watering some flowers in a box and resting her chin in her hand. Humming along to the music. when she meets his eyes, it sounds like her. Like exactly what he’s been looking for. Good, and right, and perfect.

And... sad.

The one thing Luka’s grateful for is that he wasn’t standing there long. Instead of fear or panic, he’s only caught up in mild surprise, and to his relief, so is Marinette. He readjusts his weight on his good leg, and he manages a wave with his free hand. “You know,” he says with a weak laugh, “we really gotta stop meeting like this.”

The smile Marinette gives him in return is just as sad as her humming, but harder to read. He doesn’t know if it’s telling her she agrees or disagrees, or if she doesn’t want him to go. Or if it’s something else entirely, something he’s not a part of. “Hey,” she says, leaning over the balcony to get a better look at him. Or maybe just at his leg.

He glances down at it, gives it a little shake, and shrugs in the face of the urge to wince. “It’ll be fine,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. “I’ll be back at work in a day or two. But, y’know... let me know if you’d rather I go busk somewhere else.”

Which, he’ll admit, is code for, let me know if you don’t want to see me anymore. He’s given her enough reasons for her to feel that way.

If Marinette’s somehow waded through to the real meaning of it, she doesn’t show it, and Luka doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. Instead, she leans over to pause her music, brushes her hair out of her eyes, and says, “Do you... wanna come upstairs?”

Well.

He wasn’t expecting that.

Luka can’t get any words out, so all he does is nod dumbly and limp toward the side door. On a better day, he might have been able to scale the bakery and hop over the balcony railing, if all his work on the Liberty is anything to go by. But maybe his guitar wouldn’t necessarily appreciate that. And neither would Mr. Dupain or Mrs. Cheng; he’d probably scare them half to death. Not to mention that maybe this is the sort of stunt reserved for Actually Cool People, and Luka is only ever Actually Cool in the recesses of his imagination or with a guitar in his hands.

Marinette meets him by the side door and lets him in with barely a sound. It doesn’t seem like she’s trying to sneak him in, the way she might have if they were in high school. If she might have even pulled off something like that in high school. But they slip into the apartment with Marinette’s whispered explanation that her father’s closing up shop and her mother’s getting ready for a dinner date. It reminds him, as they head to her room and she shows him how to hoist up onto the balcony, of all the dates his ma tried to go on. And how one day, she just stopped trying, and didn’t shed a tear over it.

Maybe, he thinks as he leaps up on the weight of one leg, he’s built for something like that. Or should be.

Marinette lets him take the deck chair so he can rest his leg, despite his weak insistence that he’s fine. She doesn’t go back to watering the flowers, or even leaning on the railing and giving the city that wistful look he thought was only reserved for Adrien Agreste. Instead, she sits cross-legged on the floor, and she watches him, never lingering on one part of him for too long. Like she’s expecting him to say something. Maybe it’s payback, in the end, for all the times she must have caught him.

“Hey,” he finally says to break through the quiet. “That song you were listening to... Can you play it again?”

She jolts to attention then, nods without a word, makes a grab for her phone. With a few taps, the song bleeds to life with a few piano notes, the rise of a few violins, the thrum of a cello. Luka thinks he’s heard this before, once. The words are all in English, so he doesn’t quite know what they’re saying. All he knows is the blue. It’s electric, it’s swelling in his chest, buzzing under his skin, closing his eyes. It sounds...

Like the ocean.

Like a world Marinette’s pulling him into. Her world. And he’s stepping into it. Just for a while. Or like, perhaps, just for that while, they’re meeting in the middle.

She must know what the song is about. She can wade through the colors and the sound, right to the words, as she sings to herself in accented English, as her voice dips low but not quite low enough, as her breath snags on the notes it can’t hold for very long. Maybe that’s why she seems so sad. Or maybe it’s something else.

“That song sounds like your eyes,” he says once the violins fade. It sounds like what I’ve been looking for.

Marinette looks at him like he’s lost his mind, and maybe he has. But there’s a softness to it. Like maybe no one’s ever said anything like that to her before. Like, secretly, she’d spent years wishing someone would. “What?”

“Oh, uh. It’s...” He can’t tell if it’s the music, or the evening sky, or Marinette that’s making it hard to snap back to himself. Maybe it’s all three. “It’s... that sound-color thing I told you about—”

“No, I—I figured.” Marinette fumbles as she turns down the volume. He hardly thought her the type, but she does it like it’s something she’s done for ages. Like she’s tapping into someone she used to be. “You... think about my eyes?”

Luka can feel his face burning, his stomach lurching. He’s overthinking, he knows it, but somehow it doesn’t feel wrong for him to say, “I’ve been trying to get them right for a long time.”

She gives him a confused look at first, but understanding cracks across her face once he unzips his gig bag, sets up the amp, and sets his guitar in his lap.

“Can you play it again?” he asks. It’s quiet, and unsure, but there’s a tinge of hope to it. “I want to get it right.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks turn pink under the delicate string lights. It seems like she holds onto her breath for longer than she means to, but she nods, and she does that fumbling thing again as she reaches for her phone. Once those first piano notes trickle out, she looks to him expectantly. That’s all it takes for his fingers to find the strings. For his heart to find that ocean blue. He doesn’t quite copy the melody note for note; instead, he finds the little pockets where his music fits, and he makes it sound a little fuller. A little more like her.

Maybe it’s not perfect. But it’s good enough.

Somewhere along the way, Luka closed his eyes, and when he opens them again, he finds Marinette sitting closer—just across from him, in fact. She’s huddled up with her chin on her knees, all but marveling at him in silence. When she finally speaks, it’s after she’s paused the next song, and it’s only to breathe, “Wow.”

Luka’s not feeling particularly flirtatious; actually, the most he does is laugh sheepishly and rub the back of his neck. “I’m not so good with words,” he says. “But music gets me pretty close to what I want to say. So… maybe I was wrong about not having an angle. Maybe my thing is playing people.”

Marinette snaps out of it long enough to laugh, all breath, and say, “Where I’ve been, that sounds an awful lot like you’re a con man.”

“I’m not a con man, I mean... what people sound like. Their hearts, or... the parts of them that are most beautiful. That sound like that”— he gestures toward the speaker, and then up to the sky—”or remind us that... whatever we’re made of, it came from up there. Somewhere. That’s what I wanna think about, when I play…”

He catches himself and goes silent, but Marinette’s already giving him a meaningful look, teeth sinking into her lip. Somewhere along the line, her face went right to scarlet.

“Me,” she says. “That’s what you were playing in the park. Me.”

Luka doesn’t know how much of him has been discovered, but he keeps quiet all the same. He won’t give any more of himself away. It’s only as he’s about to apologize—for what, he’s not entirely sure—that Marinette cuts him off.

“Look, I… I need to tell you about something.”

He grips his guitar more tightly, because his phone is too far out of reach, and all the alarm bells go off.

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝unpleasant news.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Todoroki Shouto ]

「Scenario of Todoroki’s S/O being critically injured by villains and she doesn’t come to class one day and suddenly their phones all go off with the breaking news report about what happened.」

TODOROKI SHOUTO

"The convenience store? At this hour?" Todoroki questioned.

Todoroki took a moment to glance over at the clock sitting on his desk. It was quite late at night and not the time for you to be going out to the convenience store. He put down the pencil that he had been using to do his homework and picked up his phone before heading to his futon that was spread out on the ground. He made himself comfortable before putting his phone on speaker. He could hear you moving about in your room, grabbing a few things before leaving. He could even hear you telling your mother that you were going to head out soon.

On the other hand, you were busy putting on your shoes, your mother reminding you to be careful on your way out, even though the store was just a few minutes away. The two of you had the habit of calling each other before going to bed so calling at this hour wasn't that uncommon at all. There was just something romantic with calling before bed and Todoroki seemed to be quite fond of doing something like this every day. He believes that hearing your voice before ending the day was such a wonderful thing.

"My mom used up all of the eggs and soy sauce for dinner and those are kind of a necessity for tomorrow's breakfast so....." you were walking down the empty streets, looking left and right before crossing roads.

"Ah, I see. Anyway, be careful. I'll see you tomorrow at school." Todoroki said.

You said your goodbyes before putting away your phone. There were still a few cars here and there but the road was still devoid of people. The store itself was empty, there were only employees present at the moment, most were seen chatting by register while the rest busied themselves with cleaning. Upon your arrival, the staff greeted you warmly. You quickly bought what your mother had requested, along with some snacks that you will be having for yourself.  When you finished shopping, your mom has asked about your whereabouts while Todoroki texted you to call him once you got home and told you to stay safe. You replied to both texts while you were still inside the store.

On the way home, you heard a bit of rustling by the alleyway ahead of you, followed by a few voices. You thought nothing much about it until three figures emerged from the alleyway which made you stop abruptly. Two were men, both donning a mask the covers half of the lower face. The last one was a female who looked like she was being dragged away against her will, judging from the small cuts on her arms and the bruises. She looked no older than 30 years old who looked like she worked at a company. It didn't take long for you to understand what's going on.

"I thought you said that no one uses this road at night!"

"And I thought I told you that it depends!"

The two suspicious men argued with one another while you took the chance to assess the current situation. It was late at night and then chances of other heores coming is very slim. You put aside your bag and got into a fighting stance. Without warning, you lunged forward to secure the victim while they were still arguing amongst themselves and leaving themselves open. They both looked genuinely surprised at how quick you acted and immediately turned towards you. The villains attempted to attack you but you blocked their attack and stepped back. The woman stirred awake from all the noise and movement.  

"You're awake. That's great. You don't seem to have major injuries, please rest assured and let me handle this." you smiled gently at the woman who was still trying to comprehend what was going on.

"Judging from the way you move.....you must be a hero in training."

"Don't blame us if you get hurt."

With that, you exchanged blows with the two unknown masked figures.

The next day was a nice and clear day. Todoroki finds himself quite disturbed at how nice the day was, he woke up feeling extremely exhausted and noticed that he still had his phone in hand. He quickly got up to ready himself for school, putting his phone aside and kicking off the blankets. By the time he stepped out of the house, he had his eyes on his phone. In the end, you didn't give him a call once you got back home. Todoroki assumed that you probably didn't want to disturb him and decide to leave him alone to sleep. Then again, he could see you at school anyways.

"Good morning, Todoroki-kun!"

He heard Midoriya's voice while he was changing his shoes by the lockers. Following the green-haired male were Uraraka and Iida who were waving at Todoroki as well.

"Oh, everyone.....Good morning." 

"Uwah, what's with that tired look on your face?" Uraraka questioned.

"I was just thinking about something." the bicolored haired male replied.

The four students headed to Class 1-A, only to see that their classmates chatting with one another. Todoroki headed to his seat at the back, paying no heed to whatever was going on within the classroom. His phone vibrated within his pocket, a bit too violently that it annoyed him a bit. It wasn't until he sat down that he pulled out his phone He finds a few messages from his older siblings, others were notification from other apps that told him about the most recent news. In the group chat he was in, which had all Fuyumi and Natsuo in it, had numerous notifications. It seemed like the two were calling for him. He scrolled up and found a link to a certain page. There he saw a video of a live broadcast from just a minute ago.

"This just in! The police and pro heroes had managed to capture two villains who have been wreaking havoc for the past month." the loud volume was enough to attract a few people's attention. A few students gathered around Todoroki to see what was going on. On display was a video of civilians surrounding the site while the police tried to keep them in check.

"The two villains were famous slave traders, attacking at random patterns which threw the police force and pro heroes off guard with their timing. Here we are, interviewing the victim from last night." the camera then switched over towards a woman who was seated at the back of the hospital, fresh bandages littering her arms and some on her face.

"I remember going home and suddenly, I was pulled into the alleyway. After that, everything was blurry but I was saved by a hero. She was really kind and prioritized my safety. Even though she was still a student, I could tell that she's going to be a great hero someday. She was critically injured when I finally regained consciousness but at that moment the villains were already defeated, yet she still tended to my injuries and even called an ambulance for me. Although it might not be enough, I would like to pay for her hospital bills." the woman had a solemn yet sad look on her as if she could feel someone else's pain.

"The student turned out to be a first-year student from the hero course of UA. She goes by the name [Last Name] [First Name]....."

After that, everything became silent for Todoroki. The news was too heavy for him to take in right now. He managed to put all the pieces together. The reason as to why you didn't bother to even send him a message. His classmates began talking amongst themselves while keeping their eyes onto Todoroki's phone screen. They were so focused on the news that they failed to notice that their homeroom teacher had entered the classroom, ready to start school.

"What are you all doing? Put your phones away, it's time for homeroom." Aizawa put down his attendance book onto the table.

"Sensei! Did you know about this?" Kaminari showed the teacher his phone which had an article that contained information about your heroic deeds and hospitalization. Aizawa looked at the phone for a few moments before looking at everyone in the class to see their expressions. As expected, everyone was worried. You were one of the lively students in the class that can change the mood so this was expected.

"I know that you're all worried but there's nothing you can do about it. Let the pros handle it. You all can go visit her after school so just be quiet and pay attention because I'm not gonna repeat this again." Aizawa quickly changed the direction of the conversation and finished off homeroom. Throughout the entire day, everyone was quite worried about you.

During lunch break, Todoroki had the chance to use his phone and the first thing he did was call you. However, it was your mother who had picked up instead. Judging from how relaxed your mother sounded, Todoroki could deduce that you're not in a serious condition. Your mother had told him what he needed to know, which includes your well being and a detailed explanation of what exactly happened last night. He hung up once he heard his classmates calling him to go back to class. After he sat down on his seat and pulled out his textbook, he made a mental note to go to the bakery to buy your favorite stuff before visiting you.

As soon as classes ended, Todoroki was already packing his things as fast as possible. Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka had stopped him before he had left, telling the bicolored haired male that they wanted to visit you as well. They stopped by the bakery by the train station before taking a 5-minute walk to the hospital. By the time they arrive, the sky’s color had changed. The receptionist was kind enough to guide the four students to your room despite the busy schedule she probably has. The moment they arrived in front of the room you were resting in, a nurse exited the room with a few papers in hand.

”Oh, you all must be [Last Name]-san’s visitors. Thank you for coming so far to visit but it's not the right time. She’s currently resting after an operation. Sorry but perhaps, maybe you can come to visit tomorrow.” the nursed smiled apologetically at the four. Iida shook his head, telling the nurse that there’s no need to apologize for something she couldn’t control.

Though they were disappointed, they knew that it was best to not disturb your slumber and let you get as much rest as you possibly could. Todoroki voiced out that he wanted to stay and said something about wanted to see you. Uraraka handed him the flowers she, Midoriya, and Iida had bought together, telling him to say hello for her in case you wake up. The three said their goodbyes before heading towards the elevator. The nurse guided the bicolored haired male into the room and drew the curtains together. Once he was within your room, he took a moment to study the interior.

The hospital wasn’t unfamiliar to him at all, since he often visited his mother during the weekends. But, he decided to explore the room. There was a wall-mounted TV right in front of your bed, it looked like the latest model. A window giving him a view of the world below. In the corner were two chairs with a short, rectangular coffee table. Todoroki set down the bag that held your favorite desserts and placed the flowers in the vase. He dragged the chair next to your bed and sat down, eyes fixated on your sleeping form. He felt useless. He reached for your hand, feeling how cold it was beneath his fingertips.

"She has internal bleeding and suffered temporary blood loss. When she came in, she was bleeding all over but thankfully, we had a donor. The doctors say that they're unsure when she will wake up but for now, they did all they can." the nurse assured Todoroki after seeing the frown etched onto his face. The nurse excused herself and left the room.

All he could think was how he could've prevented this if he offered to accompany you last night. Seeing you on the hospital bed reminded him of how dangerous being a hero actually is and how fragile a person's life was. He squeezed your hand gently, silently hoping that you would wake up and return the gesture. What if you never wake up? What would happen if you were to disappear completely from his life? From your family and friends? He didn't know when he started relying on your comfort and reassuring words.

You were like a ray of sunshine, devoid of impurities, and darkness. When he was at his lowest and angry at himself for getting riled up at the thought of his father, you were there for him. You didn't have to say anything to make him feel at ease. You would do it unconsciously, coming into his room and surprising him with some baked goods or sneaking up on him to give him a hug. Though they were only little things, it was enough to cheer him up. Your presence itself was a blessing in disguise.

He hoped that he treated you well enough.

But he knows that you're strong and that you will pull through. Todoroki knows what he should do now. He should take care of himself and be the one to take care of you once you wake up. It may not be enough to repay you for all the times you stayed with him but it was the least he could do.

"I'll come back tomorrow."

Hopefully by then, you'll be awake.

Total: 2323 words Published: 27.08.2020

Thank you to those who participated in the poll!

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ We did our best with this scenario and it turn out as angsty as we thought. And we didn’t really make that sad hospital scene. But we hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.― author Lou

Thank you for requesting! There’s a lot of things we could’ve improved but we didn’t really know what we should do. Hope you liked it, anon! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[1kook]

late fee

jeon jeongguk x (f) reader

summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.” tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :) wc: 10.3k

i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga

“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.

“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”

“You needn’t worry longer, baby,” Jeongguk interrupts, and the loud smack of a hardcover against the desk catches your attention. There lies Jeongguk’s Captain Underpants book, alongside the paperback copy of Beloved that has definitely seen better days.

You furrow your brows. “When did you check out this one?” You question, checking the spine to make sure the book belongs to your library. Much to your surprise, there’s no barcode on the side, and no stamp on the inside.

Your question goes unanswered as Jeongguk jumps into a full-length novella recapture of the hot frat party he’d been to last weekend, and how the Zeta Theta Psi guys knew how to party. That Jimin fellow that Jeongguk frequently mentions had apparently snorted a line of coke off their friend Seokjin’s broad shoulders just to prove his friend had godly proportions. It’s weird, but Jeongguk says it’s because you have to ride for your bros. You try to act uninterested, but Jeongguk’s a funny guy, really, and you can only hide so many chuckles with the sound of a stamp.

He’s in the middle of trying to cover up of one of his frequent trysts after accidentally exposing himself—”Don’t get it twisted, baby, I just took her upstairs to call her friend.”—when Namjoon comes out of the back room looking for you. He barely glances at your guest, before handing you a list of overdue books.

“Would you mind calling these people?” He asks, voice soft, just as everything else was about Namjoon. “They’re all a week past.”

“Yikes,” you say, eyes scanning over the list. Surprisingly, Jeongguk is still there, hovering over you as if waiting for you to dismiss him. “Do you mind, Jeon?” You say, channeling your best customer service voice. As much as Namjoon was wary of him, he still considered Jeongguk a patron in your establishment and hated to see him treated poorly, no matter how many library rules Jeongguk broke.

“Of course,” he sighs, and you miss the hostile glare he throws Namjoon when you whirl around for a highlighter. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he says when you turn back around, stretching ana rm in your direction.

Half of you knows exactly what he’ll do, but the other half of you, the one trying desperately to act like his advances have no effect on you, have you placing your palm in his. You’re not super surprised when he tugs your hand upward, pecking your knuckles with a flirty wink. “Adios, Juliet,” he smirks.

“Wrong language,” you inform him, rolling your eyes nonchalantly even though your heart is beating one hundred miles per second. Jeongguk cackles, loud as all hell in the silent library, before making his exit.

It’s silent for all of twenty seconds before Namjoon jumps right into it. “So are you seeing him, or…” he interrogates, trying to act like he’s hardly interested, but you’ve known and worked alongside Namjoon long enough to know he’s secretly the community gossip.

You ignore him, choosing to jam the buttons on the phone instead.

The weird thing about Jeongguk, was that, although he was notoriously known amongst the undergraduates (and even some graduates, because he just had it like that, you suppose) as one of the biggest fuckboys, he was different. Not to sound like every teen romcom you’d ever scanned, but he genuinely was. For starters, he’d fuck your brains out and then make you his best friend the morning after. He definitely had a very peculiar, and backwards, way of doing the whole one night stand thing.

All this you’ve gathered from your friends, who, at one point have had some sort of encounter with Jeongguk. Dahyun’s was last spring at a club event, when he’d oh so smoothly flirted with her for a solid hour before realizing she didn’t swing that way. Which is how they become close friends, which is how, by association, Jeongguk set his sights on you.

Your introduction to Jeongguk wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he’d been tagging along behind Dahyun like a lost puppy, begging her for some class notes, and had subsequently followed her all the way to your favorite meeting place. From then, he’d dropped his petulant, childish act and put on his macho face, chest puffed and eyes hooded as he devoured your very presence.

The next time you see him, it’s at a frat party where some guy had been harping on you go upstairs with him. Another weird thing about Jeongguk, he hated when other fuckboys didn’t utilize their brains. You assume it’s because it gives the fuckboy community a bad rep as a whole, but Jeongguk hated when guys were overbearing. So he’d taken the initiative to snatch you away from that fellow, guiding you all the way back to Dahyun and friends just to make sure you were alright. Somewhere along the way, you’d informed him you worked at the local library—”The one that does bingo on Tuesdays?” “That’s for senior citizens only, why do you know that?”—and he’d never left you alone again.

This time, he spots you in the dining hall.

“You come here often, dollface?” He says the moment he slides up beside you, instantly zeroing in on the burrito wrap on your plate. Like the little immature baby he is, his hand immediately snakes out to touch the precariously wrapped white tortilla holding the deliciousness inside, and you have to physically slap the offender away. He jumps, bumping into a girl standing in line behind him, not that particularly cares. “So, it’s fuck Jeongguk hours, huh?” He huffs, adorning his face with that uppity glare he mastered from watching Mean Girls on repeat a few months ago.

“Your plate is stacked, but you wanna grab the one thing on mine,” you point out, and his lips curl into a smile at your response. “By the way, your book is past due.”

At this he gasps, all real, no Regina George effects added. “You’re lying,” he chokes, switching his plate to his other hand, and you nearly jump when the muffin balancing dangerously on top shifts. He tugs his phone out of the pocket of his sweats, scanning through his remind app until he sees that his book is overdue by three days. He groans, staring at the ceiling in shame.

You nod, breezing over his inner meltdown. “Was wondering when we were gonna get the wedgie winner, or whatever its called, back.”

He scoffs, giving you an unimpressed glare. “Wrath of the Wicked Wedgie Woman,” he corrects, looking so disappointed that you don’t have these bizarre titles memorized. “For such a pretty librarian, you sure are ignorant to these literary masterpieces.”

This makes you cackle, and your cheeks flush when at least three people turn to stare at your outburst. “You aren’t seriously calling these Captain Underpants books masterpieces,” you snort. Jeongguk shrugs, and you begin to wonder if he really is as airheaded as the characters he admires. “Jeon,” you try to reason, giving him a pleading look, because arguing the credibility of kids novels in line for lunch simply does not seem real. You must have been warped into another dimension where all pretty boys are as dumb as the movies make them out to seem.

“Listen,” he says, smiling when you grow desperate for him to prove you wrong. “I’ve read a lot of good books, but nothing tops a hypnotized superhero principal fighting crime in his underwear.”

You sigh, paying for your meal, and then, surprisingly, waiting for him to pay for his. You tell yourself it’s because you want to finish this conversation, but part of you just genuinely enjoys being in Jeongguk’s presence. Gag.

“I saw you with Beloved last week,” you carry on the second he’s done giving flirty eyes to the middle-aged cashier. “Now that’s a masterpiece.”

He nods in agreement. “But, baby,” he purrs, and the sudden switch from weird, 12 year-old literary enthusiast to grown as hell, suave bastard has you jolting a step that you try to play off by pretending to look at something on the ground. “How else will you remember my face?”

You blank. “What the hell are you talking about.”

Jeongguk gives you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t remember a damn thing about me if I did what every other stuck-up bastard did trying to pick up chicks at the library.” You tilt your head in confusion. Jeongguk sighs. “If I went in every rainy Friday and checked out a Tale of Two Cities, or Oliver Twist, or some other Charles Dickens shit, you wouldn’t glance my way.”

“Do people still read Dickens?” You say instead, glossing over the fact that apparently Jeongguk’s visits were apparently blatant attempts to flirt with girls. Finally, you find a suitable spot at a long, dinner table so you don’t have to sit completely alone with Jeongguk.

“You know damn well better than I do that that those wannabe sophisticated books have waitlists.” He shoves half a pizza slice into his mouth, and you hate how your eyes immediately laser in on the strong movements of his jaw. “My point is,” he says through a greasy mouthful. “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.”

You cradle your burrito in your palms, rolling his words around your head for a bit. Jeongguk doesn’t particularly seem like he’s awaiting an answer, munching through the mountain of food on his plate as you revel in your thoughts.

It’s right when you go to take your first bite that you finally come to a conclusion. “But have you ever considered I’m interested in you because I think you’re funny?”

Silence. Jeongguk stares at you through his fringe, pizza slice slowly going limp in his hold as he absorbs your words. Before you know it, his ears flush red. He splutters. “I-You think I’m funny?” He asks, cheeks slowly growing rosy as well, and his lips quirk in a cute way to the side, as if he’s trying desperately to hide his excitement.

You nod, because it’s true, why would you lie? “Duh. You come in every week and just talk about your day, Jeongguk,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I think you’re very interesting and entertaining without trying.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, and for the first time, you’re thrown off by how adorable this man looks, lips pressed tight to contain a smile from your compliments.

Realization hits you all at once, but you’ve long since trained in the fluid art of avoiding your emotions.

“There’s a party tonight,” Dahyun announces from her desk, not even bothering to glance at you when you return from the showers. You hum, not really that interested in whatever is going on this fine Thursday evening. You plop down at your own desk, starting your skincare routine.

Dahyun lets you relax in the soothing motions of self care for all of three seconds before she adds, “Jeongguk wanted to know if you’re coming.”

You press down too hard on the pump of your moisturizer, sending a large glomp onto the tips of your fingers. “That’s nice,” you say, trying to play it off, but you doubt Dahyun hadn’t heard the little spaz you had, or that she couldn’t sense the way your body immediately lit aflame at the mention of him and you in the same sentence.

She turns in her seat, and you catch sight of her in your mirror. You avert your eyes right away, because Dahyun had many talents, and her best one was reading your mind with a single gaze. You maintain an aura of unbothered and uninterested, finishing with the rest of your skincare.

Just when you think you’re safe, Dahyun pounces.

“Y’know,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice. “He hasn’t slept with anyone in almost a month. In fuckboy time, that’s the equivalent of two years.”

You roll your eyes, putting away your products before trying to busy yourself with anything else. “He probably has, but with people who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

Faintly, you hear Dahyun’s chair scrape against the carpet, and then suddenly she has you in a headlock. “Admit you like Jeongguk or I will throw your toothbrush into the toilet on the third floor.”

You choke, grappling her arms in an attempt to pry her off. “No,” you huff, switching tactics to tangle a hand in her silver locks. “Why would I confess to something that isn’t true?”

She shrieks when you give a sharp tug, sending her careening sideways against the foot of your bed, but not without taking you with her. “You are lying to yourself and to the entire librarian community, you sick fuck.”

You snort. “The fuck does Namjoon have to do with this?”

“He told me Jeongguk’s been bringing you Starbucks.”

Her reveal has you halting in your tracks, cheeks flushing at being exposed. “That gossiping fuck,” you seethe, finally loosening your grip on your friend. Somehow, you’ve ended up sprawled on the floor of her side of the room, nestled into the stupidly fluffy carpet she thrifted. She rolls onto her belly, propping herself up on her elbows to narrow her eyes at you.

“So it’s true,” she sighs. You shrug. “Well,” she claps her hands together. “Shimmy into that sexy dress from Windsor, we’re going out.”

You groan, rolling over in metaphorical agony. “Dude, I just washed my face. No way in hell, I’m putting on makeup now.” She considers your point for negative three seconds.

“The Glow Kit is in my bottom left drawer,” she announces right as she exits the room with her towel and shower essentials in hand.

The Glow Kit is in fact in Dahyun’s drawer, which is a little suspicious considering it’s the same one you thought you lost three months ago. Nonetheless, it never lets you down, and by the time you’re done with your makeup, you’re looking like a shimmering, little succubus in the hot dress from Windsor.

Normally, you and your self-esteem were rivals; never on the same page, always bickering, sworn enemies from birth. But right now, as you admire yourself in the closet mirror, you can’t help but marvel at how good you look in the slightly loose dress.

“Damn,” Dahyun says as soon as she returns, all fluffy in her towel. “You will fuck tonight, or else.”

“Hey, baby,” Jeongguk smiles at you the moment you walk in, hooded eyes raking over your body in an agonizingly slow manner. Dahyun chooses then to do her party trick—disappearing without a word.

“Hi…” you respond, voice meek in this party setting. There’s more people than you anticipated, which is weird because it’s a Thursday and surely some of these people have morning classes. You can’t comment, though, because you’re here knowing damn well you have an eight am tomorrow.

The music is blasting, so loud you can feel the bass shaking the floor, sending jolts up from your toes to your head with every beat. There’s people in every crevice of this household, some even taking refuge on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Someone brushes by you, and you instinctively step closer to the wall to avoid being in the way. You should have known Jeongguk would follow.

He ducks down to shout into your ear. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming tonight,” he tells you, right as one of his friends rushes by, thrusting a cup into his hand that Jeongguk doesn’t even stop to question. He takes a sip, then offers you some.

“Dahyun didn’t wanna come alone,” you lie, tentatively sipping from his cup only to realize it’s worse than any alcohol here: it’s Sprite. Jeongguk seems amused by your subtle disgust, immediately taking the cup back. You send out a light prayer for his stomach and his skin. “Aren’t you supposed to be out pulling hoes or something?” You say, trying to go for teasing and playful but missing by a mile.

Jeongguk grins. “Why would I do that when the only girl I want is right here,” he motions, and then does that cliche move where he places a hand by the wall behind you. The worst thing is, even though Jeongguk seems intent on pulling every cheesy act known to mankind, your heart actually races.

“Shut up,” you laugh, “you just like that I don’t charge you the late fees on your books.”

At this, Jeongguk genuinely smiles, nose scrunching up as he gazes at you. “False,” he argues, and then leans forward, same stupid dopey smile on his face. “I love a woman who snorts milk out of her nose.”

“Jeon!” You shriek, smacking his arm as embarrassment washes over you. “You said you would forget about that!”

Jeongguk cackles, all boyish and rough like he does when he’s around Hoseok for too long. Somehow, knowing you’re the cause of that charming laughter has your annoyance fading away, a soft smile crawling onto your features.

“I hate you,” you say instead, looking up and meeting his gaze dead on for the first time that night.

Jeongguk smirks. “Do you now?” He throws back, then takes a step forward. Your shoulder touches the wall when you take a tentative step back. You give a half-assed shrug, entranced by the playfulness that lurks behind his eyes. He gives you an exaggerated pout. “That sucks, because I,” he steps closer again, and this time he’s looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “really like you.”

“I…” you trail off, too hypnotized by the pink tongue that swipes across his lips as he gazes at you. There is no hesitation on his face.

When you don’t say anything for another moment, Jeongguk ducks down. His nose bumps against yours, his breath warm as it fans across your face. “Y’know, I’d treat you so right,” he suddenly says, and your panties immediately turn into Niagara Falls at the newfound deepness of his voice. You feel lightheaded from his close proximity and promising words. “Could make you feel so good, baby, if you just let me.”

You shiver, nearly jumping out of your skin when a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you forward gently. Not overbearingly, because you know the last thing Jeongguk would ever do was want to make you uncomfortable. He pulls you close enough that it ends up being you who steps completely into his embrace. Your trembling hands find their place on his shoulders, and Jeongguk has never looked more content.

“You... only want sex,” you softly accuse, and the only reason your quiet voice doesn’t get lost in the noise is because of how close the two of you are.

Jeongguk bites his lip at your words, and you wonder if part of him is surprised that you’d so openly say such a thing. “Not with you,” he says eventually. “Wanna hold you like this forever, ___. And if that leads to you cumming on my tongue every now and then, well,” he smiles, “all fine by me.”

“Jeon,” you scold, scared that someone might have heard him.

“What?” He grins, pressing impossibly closer. His lip gives the slightest pucker, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning closer, the hand around your waist tightening. “I want you, baby.”

You can’t hide the lovestruck expression on your face as you look between his mouth and his eyes, and you wonder if he’s being honest.

Right as you’re about to throw all your doubts out the window and kiss him, you’re bombarded with the sound of obnoxious air horns from a DJ who obviously knows shit about, well, DJ-ing.

You jump at the sudden sound, bumping your head against the wall behind you. Jeongguk’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, are you okay?” He fusses, all traces of that suave, heartthrob replaced with a fretful Jeon.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you’re not because you’re absolutely dying right now. From the fact you almost gave into Jeongguk but also the embarrassment of hitting your head. “I-I need to find Dahyun,” you announce, and give Jeongguk no time to process that before you’re bolting into the crowded house like you just broke something.

jeon tell me you got home safe jeon please

You pause in the middle of removing your makeup, one eyelash on to symbolize the mess you are right now. Dahyun is humming some tune as she does the same, the both of you clad in your pajamas and fuzzy socks. Carefully, you pick up your phone.

you im home! me and the girls ubered home lol you sorry i didnt get to say goodbye :(

jeon dont worry abt it babe jeon just happy to know ur ok

“You better be texting Jeongguk, since you failed to complete the one job you had tonight,” Dahyun calls and you curse. You whirl around to face her, and she snorts at your one eyelash.

“Be honest,” you say. “If you were the campus crush who could get coochie every time he breathed, would you leave all that for me?”

Dahyun freezes. “Well, not when you’re only wearing one eyelash.” You groan, flopping into your seat uncomfortably. “Babe,” Dahyun sighs, as if sensing the gravity of your dilemma. “You’re hot! Everyone knows this except you.”

“But am I?” You whine. “Am I attractive or do you just feel obligated to say that because you’re my friend, be honest.”

“Oh my god,” she huffs, climbing into her bed, phone in hand. She doesn’t even bother looking your way when she’s all settled in. “You have this weird idea that Jeongguk is some intangible idol, as if you haven’t seen the dude deepthroat an entire bratwurst at the diversity fair. If anything, you’re the dream girl on campus, you stupid bitch.”

“The only true thing I heard is me being a stupid bitch,” you mope, and Dahyun throws a pillow at your face. You take this attack as initiative to finally take off your other lash, finishing your cleansing and moisturizing (for the second time) routine.

“Listen,” she says, setting her phone down to stare you dead in the eye. Her voice is devoid of any emotion. “If it makes you feel better, he wrote JK + __ on our group handout last week.”

You don’t sleep that night.

The last person you’re expecting to see at this secluded cafe on a Saturday morning was Jeon Jeongguk, yet here he was in all his delicious morning glory. By morning glory, you mean the soft, sleepy eyes that stare at you from across the table, voice so deep and husky.

“Why are you here if you just woke up?” You interrogate, settling into the empty seat in front of him. Carefully, you begin pulling things out of your bag, trying your best to not look away too long. This sight was rare, Jeongguk usually being at an energy level of about eighty seven at all times. To see him so tired and sluggish was unheard of.

He gestures over to where Taehyung is in the middle of what looks like a job interview. “Moral support,” Jeongguk informs you. You nod in understanding, before returning your gaze to the sleepy angel in front of you.

He’s ridiculously tired, eyes dropping shut every time you so much as pause for a second. He seems apologetic too, murmuring I’m sorry I’m sorry whenever his eyes flutter shut. Your heart was going haywire at the sight. “Jeon,” you say softly, and get one, soft hum in response. “I think you should go home, Taehyung seems fine.”

He shakes his head. “Needs me,” he murmurs, trying desperately to snap his eyes back open to no avail. Eventually, you make the call, packing your things up way earlier than usual. You haul Jeongguk out of his seat, him sleepily trailing after you as you drag him out of the shop. He sleeps on the short bus ride back to campus, and even almost sleeps on the elevator up to his dorm.

“In we go,” you announce, unlocking his door before nudging him inside. His roommate is nowhere to be found, oddly enough given the early hour. Jeongguk stumbles inside, plopping down on his bed right away. “Sleep.”

He lets out a high pitched whine the moment you turn to leave. “Come cuddle,” he huffs, face pressed against his pillow. His hair’s haloed around him, pout smushed against the cushion as he stares at you.

“You need to sleep,” you point out.

He rolls onto his back, patting the mattress beside him. “Wanna feel you,” he says. Your cheeks flush red. As if realizing the meaning behind his words, sleepy little Jeongguk takes the initiative to push you further. “Pressed against my body,” he drawls, his deep chuckle resonating throughout your body. “C’mon, baby, too scared to be in bed with me?”

You scoff, though your cheeks are warm. “You wouldn’t do anything anyway, you’re half asleep.”

Jeongguk shrugs, lips quirking to the side as he motions to his side again. “So? Can tell you like it slow anyway,” he grunts, before sitting up and shuffling to the edge of the bed and assuming a sitting position. Without warning, he catches your wrist in his hand and tugs you between his spread thighs.

He’s more awake than he’s been all morning, and part of you is happy but the other is anxious. God, was this boy dangerous.

“You’re half asleep, Jeon,” you say, trying to diffuse the sudden sexual tension. Jeongguk smiles up at you.

“Cmon, baby,” he exhales, and one fluid tug has you plopping onto his thigh. You startle at the sudden change, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. All he does is laugh some more, nuzzling his face against your neck as your heart goes into panic mode. “Bet I could get in so deep,” he murmurs, breath tickling your neck and you feel your legs turn to jelly.

“G-Gguk,” you try to warn, but it ends up sounding more like a plea. For what, you’re not entirely sure.

A sudden kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder has your spirit ascending into another plane. Jeongguk smiles at your pliant body. “Look at you,” he continues, kissing down your neck until your body is physically quivering. “So sensitive. No one ever touched you like this before, doll?”

You shake your head no, and nearly jump out of your own skin when a hand clasps onto the inside of your thigh. “Jeon, we shouldn’t…” you choke out, even though your traitorous hand clamps down on his and pushes it closer to where you need him most.

“We shouldn’t?” He teases, and then cups your sex.

You transcend.

Jeongguk laughs, airy chuckles fanning across your jaw. “Then stop,” he tells you, the both of you watching as your hips unconsciously grind into his palm. Even when you tell yourself you need to stop, your body feels heavenly being touched by him, so you physically can’t.

“I can’t,” you reiterate, and muffle a moan against the side of his face when he presses a finger down on where he knows your clit is hiding. The thin leggings you’d worn did nothing to spare you.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he sighs, watching you work yourself on his hand. He traces his index finger over the seam of your leggings, where your folds meet and you moan again. “You gonna let me finish you off, princess? Gonna let me finger your tight little pussy until you cry? But I bet you’d make the prettiest noises if I licked you down there. Or are you gonna cum in your panties like this?”

All the different ideas he stuffs into your brain are overwhelming, especially when the only thing you really want is to be stuffed with his fingers and cock. “J-Just do it,” you beg.

“Do what?” He plays, watching the way your face contorted with every brush against your mound.

“Whatever you want,” you cry, biting down on your fist to stop any more noises from spilling out.

Jeongguk smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Such a simple gesture, but it has your stomach somersaulting. God, you needed this. You were practically sobbing for his dick, which was embarrassing in itself, but actually getting dicked down sort of cancelled it out. PEMDAS or whatever. 

Just as his hand creeps to the hem of your leggings, there’s a rattle of the doorknob, and you jump. The cloud of lust that had engulfed you two fades away and you’re suddenly aware of the jingling of a key outside.

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk whisper-shouts, looking absolutely scandalized that his roommate is coming home at this moment of all moments.

“Should I hide?” You whisper back, never having been in such a situation before. Jeongguk looks at you like you’re stupid.

“Just,” he sighs, standing up. He ruffles his hair anxiously. “Just… act natural.”

You sit perfectly still. “Not like a Sim!!”

“Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds),” you read, gasping for breath by the end of it. Jeongguk beams at you. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, leaning over the counter and watching as you scan his book under his name. “I’ll let you know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, writing down the return date on a piece of paper you stuff inside. “Please do, I’m absolutely dying to read this book.”

You hand the book over to Jeongguk, and try to ignore the way he stares at you for a second too long. Namjoon chooses this exact moment to take his lunch break, sauntering off whistling the the Angry Birds tune.

Right before Jeongguk can jump into an interrogation, the door swings open and Jisoo from your sociology elective saunters in, carrying the same mountain of books you had checked out for her two weeks ago.

“___, hi!” She exclaims right away. She, too, was infected with the same bimbo disease as Jeongguk, the one where they both had no concept of being quiet in a library.

“Hi,” you greet back, immediately standing to take the books from her. “Did you actually read through all of these?” You ask, trying to make polite small talk. You’re not particularly close to her, but it’d be rude to act like you didn’t know her.

She laughs at your comment. “Oh god, no. I just open random pages and reference them for essays,” she admits.

You try to make more small talk with her as you scan through her books, but the girl literally almost hit the material limit, which is fifty books, so you soon become consumed in scanning the barcode, briefly flipping through the book for any damage, and then repeating it all over. You’re not surprised when she drifts away, and you’re mentally cursing Namjoon for going on break now of all times.

It’s about ten minutes later when you’re all done, the computer’s library system going haywire on you, the same way it had when she first checked out all these books. You look away from the screen, standing to face Jisoo, only to find she’s drifted to the other end of the welcome desk, where a certain someone had gone to while you served her.

Oh.

You’re not anticipating the wave of jealousy that hits you watching gorgeous, smart Jisoo talk to Jeongguk. She matches him perfectly, both so beautiful it hurts. It’s when she says something to him that you snap out of it. “When can I come over again?” Soft enough that you wouldn’t have heard if you hadn’t been paying attention.

Jeongguk’s toying with a bookmark stand, but you still see the quirk of his lips on his face when she says that.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, so close yet somehow miles away as he says something back to her that gets drowned out by the thundering of your heart. You suppose it’s only natural for a guy like Jeongguk to flirt with girls, and he’d never said he only, exclusively wanted you. Really, you shouldn’t be as surprised.

But you are.

You’re surprised and, dare you say it, discouraged by the scene. He’d been so eager to finally win you over the other night, so much so that he made you feel special with every word he uttered and every look he gave you. You’d almost believed in his sincerity, but seeing him so easily converse with Jisoo about whatever past they have, served as a cold reminder that you and Jeongguk believe in two completely different relationship styles.

So you sit back down, gnawing on your lip as you try to do other duties, clicking around uselessly on your computer until eventually, Jisoo wanders back.

“Am I all set?” She smiles, and you can’t even find it in you to dislike her. You plaster on your best customer service smile, nodding and handing her back her library card. She thanks you three times over for the hassle, before waving goodbye to you and Jeongguk.

When the door falls shut behind her, you immediately drop the facade, though Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice. “Whew. She left a lot of work for you,” he laughs, eyeing the big stack beside you. You don’t even bother responding, as, at that moment, Namjoon returns from his lunch break.

(How convenient! You swear this fucker had a sixth sense for knowing when work was about to become hard.)

“Joon, I’m taking my break now,” you announce, and Namjoon stares at you like a deer in headlights, the last bite of a sandwich raised to his mouth.

“Uh,” he says, 140 IQ and all. He glances behind you at Jeongguk, who also is confused as all hell. “Okay, then.”

“___?” Jeongguk questions. You stalk off, pushing the gate away from the desk before bursting into the employee break room right across from it.

You cry the moment you get home, and Dahyun jumps ten feet out of her bed in shock. Her girlfriend, Momo, is sitting on the floor painting her toes. “Oh no,” she cries, sweet and understanding in all the ways Dahyun wasn’t. “My poor baby, what’s wrong?” She asks, waddling over in the my-nail-polish-hasn’t-dried-yet way to hug you.

“He was flirting with another girl,” you sob, dropping your bag by the door as Momo continues fawning over you, wiping your face with tissues. Dahyun gets out of bed, cracks her fingers, and promptly announces:

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Initially, you would have let her. But after a while you manage to calm down, loud Kim Kardashian sobs fading into tiny hiccups as the two of them coddle you. You tell them all about what terrible, good for nothing Jeongguk did, and in true female solidarity, they vow to kick his ass for you. Eventually, you settle on not whooping his ass, just cutting any romantic notions with him off to avoid further heartbreak. After all, you were kinda friends before you had your little crush revelation.

It’s later in the night when you announce you maybe got 2% over him, which the girls count as an absolute win, but then Jeongguk texts you and they groan at the way you jump for your phone.

jeon hey can we talk ? jeon did I do something wrong today? jeon felt like u were mad at me lol, and then u took a really long break and I had to leave for class so I didn’t even get to see u again jeon just wanna know if everything is ok

You read through the messages a couple times, and wonder if he’s being serious and didn’t see anything sus with his actions, or if he’s just toying with your emotions. Momo tugs Dahyun away to give you some sort of privacy, and then you’re left alone in your thoughts.

you everything’s fine ! you I just wasn’t feeling well lol

He responds right away.

jeon please don’t lie to me ___ jeon I know what you’re probably thinking and I just want to say it’s not like that

For some reason, him saying he knows you enough to know your thoughts irritates you. He obviously didn’t know shit about you if he was out here making you look like a clown. Your fingers type before you can even think.

you lmao you thats funny

jeon ?

you you most def do not know what I’m thinking so please just take my word when I say I felt sick

jeon lmao. what do you mean...

you you barely know ME besides the fact I work @ the library and dorm w Dahyun. don't say u know what I’m thinking, bc that would imply you know me on a closer level which you don’t

jeon ok seriously what's up with you?  jeon im trying to make sure ur okay but ur just being difficult as fuck

you I’m not being difficult I’m just being real

jeon ur not tho, ur being defensive for no reason at all

you so? we’re barely friends and we barely know each other, how I feel is none of ur business

jeon lmfaoooo, so now we’re barely friends?

you thats what I said didnt I

You set your phone aside when you don’t immediately see the texting dots appear, assuming your dry response is probably enough to ward Jeongguk off. Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from frustration or anger, but you guess it’s both. You’re not sure what set you off, the fact Jeongguk wants to act like he knows you, as if he wasn’t just chasing after you for some pussy, or the fact he wanted to act like some all-knowing being when it came to your feelings.

Eitherway, you’re extremely heated, grinding your teeth together when five minutes pass and he hasn’t texted you back. As if sensing the tension, Momo and Dahyun abruptly announce that they’re going to the ice cream place down the street, offering to bring something back to which you decline.

They leave, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. You get exactly two seconds of peace and quiet before your phone starts going off like crazy, all from Jeongguk.

jeon you’re starting to piss me off jeon drop the attitude baby. jeon bc I can be just as mean as u jeon and I won’t hesitate to make you cry

You blink. Every ounce of your body that had been consumed with an unknown anger slowly fades away as you stare wide eyed at Jeongguk’s messages. This was nothing like the Jeongguk you knew; he was soft and playful. He never raised his voice at you, and he’d never been anything less than a sweetheart.

you I don’t have an attitude

Is your feeble reply, too scared to reply to any other part of his message because you truly had no experience with this Jeongguk.

jeon so then put your big girl pants on and tell me what’s wrong jeon enough w this other shit

You sigh, snuggling into your covers as you absentmindedly tap the back of your phone.

you nothing is wrong

He doesn’t reply for a couple minutes again, but Dahyun sends you a text letting you know her and Momo decided to go to an event on the other side of campus, and telling you not to wait up. You reply back a simple ok right as Jeongguk responds.

jeon ok. so let me tell you what’s wrong then jeon you’re mad bc I was speaking to Jisoo today and she asked abt coming over jeon she comes over all the time jeon bc she is my roommates girlfriend

Your mind goes blank.

How embarrassing to have your mind read word for word, even more so when apparently, your worries weren’t even plausible. God. Instantly you feel stupid, replaying today’s entire scene and trying desperately to find something to catch Jeongguk in a lie. But other than asking that one question, there had been no other interesting talk between the two.

Your phone pings again, and you scramble to type a response, only to freeze at the words on the screen

jeon what blows me is that i don’t even owe u shit especially not an explanation jeon u don’t give 2 flying fucks about me. U just like the attention I give u and watching me make a fool of myself for u jeon I bend over backwards chasing after you, trying to get you to notice me, but you’ve done nothing to show me u feel the same jeon but you’re the one allowed to get mad when I speak to other girls? like u said “ that’s funny ”

Oh, no. Immediately your heart comes crashing down, and your fingers tremble as you watch Jeongguk slip away right before your eyes.

you Jeongguk you it’s not like that please you I like you so much, it’s just hard for me to

jeon to what? Get over your stupid stereotype of me?? jeon lmfao. Yeah that must be sooo hard jeon it’s whatever tho bc I had one of u too jeon my dream girl

This is not what you expected when he said he’d make you cry.

“Honey, you just have to talk to him,” Momo says the next morning, pressing a cucumber slice onto your eyes. You flinch at the initial iciness, but then relax when she brushes your hair out of your face. You’d gone to sleep a wreck, crying and sobbing as you thought desperately on how to win Jeongguk back, but everything he had said was true.

You’d done nothing but reject him since the beginning, had only just begun treating him as a friend, yet you instantly placed the blame on him at the first signs of trouble. God, he was right. You’d been selfish this entire time, and now he wasn’t responding to your messages anymore.

Dahyun nods from her cocoon at the foot of your bed. “I’m sure it’ll be easier in person, text convos are always weird,” she tries to comfort you. “But keep those slices on, those bags under your eyes are no joke.”

Momo smacks her calf. “Be nice! She’s going through a crisis.”

Right as you’re about to pay for your meal and sprint back to hide in your dorm, you spot a coconut head of hair facing the windows in the far corner of the dining hall. Fuck. Faintly, you can hear Dahyun’s voice shouting for you to stop being a pussy and go talk to him. You pause by the exit, one leg in one leg out, before saying fuck it. If worse comes to worse, you transfer schools and live with heartbreak and three cats for the rest of your life.

“I-Is someone sitting here?” You say before you can chicken out, and mentally curse yourself for stuttering. Oh, the social horror.

Jeongguk visibly jumps at your voice, wide doe eyes staring at you as if he expected to never see you again. After all, it’s been a week since your little fight, three days since you last tried texting him. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to his plate, but not before tugging the hoodie of his sweater over his head in a classic self defensive tactic.

You slide into the seat, staring at the plate of food like you’ve never seen it in your life, never mind the fact you picked it out less than fifteen minutes ago. You accidentally scrape your fork against the bottom, and the both of you cringe.

Jeongguk clears his throat, hands clasped together between his thighs as he stares out the window. “Don’t you have work?” He asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “I took the week off,” you confess, hoping he doesn’t press for more, because then you’d have to tell him your reasoning was due to heartache.

“Oh. That’s nice,” he says, and then you fall into a pit of awkward silence.

You push the food around on your plate, hoping he’ll say something, anything to save the two of you. In the end, he stays silent, sleepily glancing out the windows.

When you look closer, though, Jeongguk doesn’t look much hot than you. He’s got the same bags as you under his eyes, and his hair looks messier than his usual messy style. The fact he’s wearing his blue crocs out in public only confirms your theory.

After a solid five minutes of silence, even your hungry stomach managing to stay quiet, you decide enough is enough.

You shift ever so slightly, until you’re somewhat facing him and clear your throat; Jeongguk barely spares you a glance. “The Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People,” you blurt. Jeongguk blinks, face slowly morphing into one of confusion. Your cheeks feel hot under his gaze, having missed his brown eyes in the past week. “It’s your favorite one,” you announce. “Of the Captain Underpants books.”

After a moment, Jeongguk snorts, turning his attention away from you. “You’re not gonna win me over with that,” he says curtly, and your heart tightens at his emotionless tone of voice.

But you’ve done your research, and you’re not letting it go to waste. “You like George more than Harold because you think he contributes more. You love the characterization of Mr. Krupp the most, but you hate his theme song. You think the cover art could use some work, but you enjoy the overall art style. You hated the movie adaptation because Kevin Hart was in it,” you list, recalling every bit of information you’ve ever heard Jeongguk share about the stupid novels.

There’s a small quirk in the corner of Jeongguk’s lips, but it’s not the one you’re aiming for, so you switch tactics. “You hate the smell of bananas because you don’t think it should have a smell. You can’t put your left sock on first, because it’s bad luck to you. Your mom still washes your sheets for you. You know the lyrics to the original Dragon Ball series in three languages. You like wearing rings because it makes you feel like a pimp. You hate when Hoseok calls you the baby, because, according to you, you bench press his weight times two.”

“And a half,” he softly corrects, gazing at his hands, cheeks slightly tinged with red. You bite your lip, tentatively reaching a hand out to place on his arm. He looks at you right away, doe eyes so vulnerable and scared, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“I said we barely knew each other, but that was a lie,” you chuckle humorlessly, suddenly feeling your eyes tear up just remembering the conversation. “I know so much about you because I love listening to you talk. I love hearing your voice, and watching you wrestle with your friends, and fight with Dahyun. But I never tell you,” you bite your lip, blinking your eyes to backtrack the tears.

“And you’re right, I made you do all the work and I’m sorry, but I’m just so scared, Jeongguk,” you admit, voice cracking on his name. Your press a hand over your mouth, trying to collect yourself. Suddenly, a soft hand gently pats your thigh, and you find yourself reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “You can have anyone, Jeongguk, and you obviously know this,” you sigh. “I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jeongguk says, voice soft in the way you’ve missed so much. His hand, shaky and unsure, reaches up to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Look at me,” he commands, and you do. “I think we’re both stupid, because I feel like I’ve never been enough for you,” he confesses with a chuckle you try to replicate through sniffles.

Suddenly, he’s close, forehead pressed to yours. “And maybe it’s true,” he says. “You won’t be enough for me, and I’ve never been enough for you.” Your heart aches at his words. “But that’s okay,” he assures, squeezing your thigh between his fingers. “We don't have to be right now, but we can try.”

You nod, clamping down a sob. “God, I hate how optimistic you are,” you laugh, and he smiles, cupping your face in his hands.

“And I hate watching you cry,” he says, fingers wiping your cheeks. Before you can say what you’re thinking, he’s snatching the words right out of you, “yes, I know I said what I said, and I felt like such a dick typing it, I made Jimin flick my forehead right after.”

You giggle, and he beams that dreamy smile at you again. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he announces, and your heart thunders in your chest faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

And he does.

“I don’t know, I think Kevin Hart sounds great in this,” you mention, and you feel the hard scoff Jeongguk lets out from your position cradled on his chest. “It’s not the worst thing in the world,” you defend.

“You’re sick,” he says, then pauses the Captain Underpants movie to engage in your third debate of the evening. You’re barely fifteen minutes in. “You think that weirdo did George justice? How? In what world?”

“Babe, it’s just a voice actor,” you placate. “No one died because Mr. Hart voiced him.”

Jeongguk splutters. “Mr. Hart—you don’t know this man! And something did die! My hopes for a sequel!”

You shush him, pressing your index finger to his lips. “Enough complaints, Rotten Tomatoes. We won’t even finish at this rate.”

Jeongguk hits play, grumbling under his breath.

Just as you’d predicted, you don’t even make it to the halfway mark before Jeongguk’s got you on your back, plush lips working yours until they’re bruised, tongue halfway down your throat. “The mov—“ you mumble.

“Fuck Mr. Hart,” Jeongguk says, kissing down your jaw like he can’t allow himself to miss a single spot. When he reaches the collar of your shirt, he wastes no time tugging it off of you. You whine, instinctively covering your chest. “Don’t be shy,” he chuckles, “here, look-,” he tugs his sweatshirt over his head, and you’re met with the strong muscles of his abdomen and pecs, “-twins.”

You roll your eyes. “Just kiss me, Mr. Jeon,” you tease, wrapping your hands around him to bring him closer. He chokes, and mumbles something about saving that for another time.

Before you know it, he’s kissing between your thighs, soft lips producing the most erotic sounds with every smooch he gives. “Can I take these off?” he asks, one lone finger creeping beneath the hem of your panties, right where your hip is. You nod, biting your lower lip hard the moment he begins sliding them down. His hands are soft as they glide over your legs, and when he finally tugs them away from your ankles, he wastes no time nudging your legs open for him.

“Don’t just look at it,” you whine, jabbing his ribs with your foot. Jeongguk grins.

“Sorry I stare, you’re just so pretty,” he smiles, and you muffle an annoyed groan into your palms. “Gonna eat you out now,” he announces, finally, and you uncover your face to watch the way he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing pussy, pink tongue coming out to lick at your clit.

The first press of the wet muscle has your toes curling, back arched. You’d been craving this for the longest, and just as you’d expect, it’s better than any fantasy. “Right there,” you moan, reaching down to tangle a hand in Jeongguk’s wavy hair, the other fisting the pillow beneath your head.

Jeongguk absorbs all your tiny reactions, toying with your clit just how you like it. He rolls his tongue around it, making sure every part has been in his mouth at least once. When he suctions his lips around it and moans like this was getting him off, your body melts. “Fuck,” you cry out, your thighs quivering around his head. Part of you wants to slam them shut, hide from his tongue and all its devious ministrations. But the other part has never felt so good in your entire life.

When Jeongguk decides he’s pampered your swollen clit enough, he gives it one final kiss, wet and slippery. “Good?” He smiles up at you, lips slick with your juices. You nod, probably already looking fucked out. He smirks at your response, and your heart backflips in your chest, when he reaches up to knot your fingers together.

He kisses your knuckle and you whine. “How many fingers do you want?” He asks, and you blurt out the first number you can think of.

“Eight,” you choke, and immediately flush in embarrassment afterwards.

Jeongguk laughs, dropping his head to your thigh in a fit of giggles. He looks absolutely ethereal there, soft brown hair sprawled across your skin like an angel. “Smaller numbers, baby, please,” he chuckles. You shrug, so he decides for you. “How about I just use my tongue instead?” You think you might love him.

He settles back down, lips pressing against your mound one final time, before he’s diving in. You mewl right away, body becoming one with the mattress beneath you at the first brush of his tongue.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you gasp, hands burying themselves in his scalp again. He hums in response, and the sound has every nerve in your body lighting up. His tongue prods against your folds, slowly licking his way deeper and deeper into your cunt.

The worst comes when he sighs against your pussy, literally sighs, like he’s so blessed to be there. “You’re s-so good at this,” you cry out, trembling fingers twisting his hair so tightly that you manage to pull him off just an inch. He pinches your thigh in warning, before stuffing his tongue into you again, absolutely plunging into the depths of your hole.

Just when you think he couldn’t possibly outdo this, he jolts up suddenly, nose brushing against your clit. His eyes go wide for the slightest second, as if he really hadn’t planned that, before flickering at you.

To your utter embarrassment, he takes one long whiff, eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure.

He pulls away from your dripping hole. “You smell so fucking good,” he informs you, spreading a fiery blush across your cheeks.

“Thanks?” You say, and he grins, shuffling onto his knees all of a sudden. You mope the loss of his tongue on your pussy, but forget about it the second he reaches for his desk and returns with a condom.

He tears the foil packet open with gentle hands, eyes weirdly zeroed in on that only. You nudge his hip, and when he meets your gaze, he instantly averts it. Like he’s suddenly shy.

Oh he was gonna be the death of you.

You tug his boxers down and get to revel in more of those bashful glances, but you soon forget about that when he grips his rock hard member in one hand, jacking it to its full potential. “Ready?” He says, one hand gripping your hip, the other his cock. You nod, and then shift up onto your elbows to watch him sink into you.

You can barely keep your eyes open, the second the tip of his cock brushes against you your eyes roll back into your head. You moan, letting yourself flop back against the mattress, chest heaving with each inch he sinks in. “Fuck, you’re big,” you cry, biting down on your fist.

Jeongguk chuckles. “Yeah?” He grunts, and then stills as he waits for you to catch your breath. He gives you exactly four seconds before he’s thrusting the remainder of the way in.

Your back arches off the bed, a high-pitched moan ripping itself out of your throat. “Jeon!”

“Relax, relax,” he croons, releasing your hip to lean over you, peppering your face in kisses. You’re heaving for air, so overwhelmed with emotions. “You’re doing so good for me, doll,” he comforts, kissing every inch of you until you regain your wits. “So wet and warm for me, you have no idea how bad I wanna just ram my cock into your tight, little pussy.”

You huff, heart still skipping by the time you grow familiar with the sheer size of his dick inside of you. When you’ve finally come back down to earth, eyes fluttering at Jeongguk, he gives you one affirmative nod before he begins really fucking you.

He starts carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break you with one push. You’re thankful that he’s at least somewhat aware of his own bear strength, but you’d prefer if he picked up the pace. Before you can file a complaint, he’s hiking your thigh up onto the crease of his elbow, and ramming himself into you.

“Could already hear some smart ass comment coming,” he groans, snapping his hips into you with a newfound intensity. You moan, trying desperately to reciprocate some movements back.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” you gasp, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, scratching lone lines down his back. Jeongguk snorts, pushing in, and then grinding your pelvises together deliciously.

He rolls his eyes, then chooses that exact moment to capture your lips in his. You groan softly, body boneless beneath him at the gentle way he kisses you, like his entire life depends on this single kiss.

When he finally releases your lips, he’s huffing against your mouth, hips having not stopped a single time. You know he’s tired and so riled up; you’d felt the brush of his half-hard member from the moment you first laid down to watch the movie.

But Jeongguk was a gentleman, through and through. You’d felt the brush of his cock, and heard the thundering of his heart, but he hadn’t pushed you further a single time. He basked in your presence, waiting until you crept your hand beneath his shirt to finally pounce.

“I’m close,” you tell him, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jeongguk had treated it like the finest treasure earlier, but now your gentle caresses feel mediocre compared to the way he’d touched it. Jeongguk nods, the tips of his wavy hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. You abandon your quest to finish yourself off and focus on brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so good to me,” you moan, lightly picking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t deserve you.”

He rams his cock into you, the arm not holding up your thigh weakening, until he’s leaning on his forearm over you. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, and you wonder if his orgasm is as close as yours.

A particular brush of his cock against your cervix has you seeing stars, thighs clenching around him. “Just a little bit—more,” you beg, body writhing beneath him, pushing yourself up to meet his thrusts.

“So perfect,” he praises, kissing along your jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

You nod, but not before cupping his face in your hands, and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He makes a soft little sound of surprise, smile pressed against your mouth, and the heat in your abdomen finally explodes. You disassociate for all of one second, consumed in a wave of bliss never before heard of, his pistoning thrusts working you through it.

You nearly cry from how good it feels, throwing an arm around his neck to pull him closer. You’re babbling like an idiot, saying shit you won’t remember later. What you do recall is the chuckles Jeongguk had muffled against your neck, hips never faltering as he chased his own high.

He finds it a few beats later, the muscles of his back suddenly going rigid. He moans your name, somehow making it sound like it’s the best song in the world, before his hips begin stuttering in their mission. He eventually goes slack, slumped over you without completely crushing you beneath the weight of his muscles.

By the time you’ve fully recovered, he’s sliding out of you. Right as you go to speak, he stuffs two fingers into your sensitive cunt. “Jeon!” You wail, reaching down to push him away before you come again.

He snickers. “What? It’d be a waste to let it out,” he says, letting go when he’s decided he’s done his job, popping the digits into his mouth. You groan, trying to quell the excitement that builds in your chest from watching him suck your cum off his fingers.

“You’re the worst,” you sigh, snatching his t-shirt off the edge of the bed to tug over your bare form. Jeongguk tugs his underwear back on, retrieving yours from where he’d flung them across the room. When you’re settled into the blankets again, you’re not expecting the laptop to return as well. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

Jeongguk shrugs, nestling into your chest. “Hit play, this is when Professor Poopy Pants begins attacking the city.”

[thishintoflove]

For the BobaDinLuke discord server prompt: "Get out of my head and get into me instead."

Y'all here about the fallacy of the "anti-sex beds" in the Olympic Village this year? They're just made of sustainable cardboard, but let's be real, they probably wouldn't hold up against multiple super-strong athletes going at it....

Anyway, here's some thirsty thursday content!

Din sighed as he tried to wind his way through the crowd at the Track and Field Mixer. He’d been told that the Tokyo Olympic Games would be different- that they wouldn’t include as many group gatherings- and yet the entire team was expected to attend this mixer. Apparently it was for “international comradery” among the athletes, but Din hated the pomp and circumstance of these events. He was just here to run and to win.

Just as he was considering whether Coach would notice if he slipped away, he heard a deep voice call out to him.

“Djarin!”

He turned around to find Boba Fett, the famed shot put athlete from New Zealand, coming toward him with a big grin on his face. They clasped arms and Boba slapped him hard on the back.

“Good to see you back at the Games, brother! How’s Team Canada this year, you guys feeling strong?”

“As strong as possible, considering the year we’ve had.”

“Fair enough,” Boba laughed, the sound warm and deep in his chest, “I’m glad I found you here. I was getting real tired of introducing myself to kids who are still all starry-eyed about being at their first Games. Makes me feel old. It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“I agree,” Din replied warmly, “And congratulations. I saw that you broke a new record at the trials.”

“Yup, 23.37 meters. Beat my own personal record by half a meter on that one. Getting another world record was just the icing on the cake.”

Din rolled his eyes, but chuckled at the same time.

“And they say that Fielders aren’t cocky. You’re worse than the Sprinters!”

Boba just grinned even more, then raised his brows and gave Din a pointed look, “I thought you knew from experience that Fielders like me are very cocky.”

That comment had Din blushing even as he rolled his eyes again.

Usually his mind was completely focused on his goal, but Boba was a welcome distraction. As a marathon runner, Din was used to taking things slow. He played the long game, always, and he was usually single-minded in his focus. That focus was almost always dedicated to training, but when he’d met Boba in Rio, he’d discovered the benefits of loosening up once in a while.

Boba was a world class athlete, a Shot Put record breaker, but he also liked to have a good time. And during the last games, he and Din had a very good time. Din swore he felt looser after a night with Boba, something he had never experienced before with anyone else. He wasn’t anxious about what it would mean or how it would impact his training: they were just two athletes letting off some steam in the evenings.

“Speaking of,” Boba continued, stepping even closer to Din, “Did you get a load of the beds this time?”

“It has nothing to do with preventing sex among ahtletes,” Din replied, cutting Boba off before he could make another remark, because he knew exactly where the other man was heading with this, “Some kid thought it’d be funny to make a joke about it on that clock app and look what happened. Now it’s all anyone wants to talk about. They’re supposed to be environmentally friendly, that’s it.” “Which is great and all, but I’m not sure they took fat athletes into consideration. Most Fielders like me are twice the size of the other athletes, and don’t get me started on the weight lifters. It looks like I could break that bed on my own.”

“They’re stronger than they look.”

“Care to test that theory?”

Just then, the energy in the room shifted as Team U.S.A. arrived at the Track and Field Mixer. Boba and Din watched with matching expressions of disinterest as the group entered with loud voices and boisterous excitement.

“Americans,” Boba grumbled under his breath, “Your neighbors to the south are the flashiest bunch of bastards every damn year.”

Din nodded in agreement, but he was quickly distracted by a new face at the front of the pack. A blonde man with notable blue eyes and a blinding grin on his face. He looked like an All-American poster boy.

“Who’s that?” Din asked, unable to look away.

“Who, Blondie?” Boba asked, craning his neck to “That’s Skywalker. Some hotshot Hurdler. He was supposed to be a favorite at Rio, but he got injured during the trials. These are his first Games.”

“Hmm, know anything else about him?���

“I’ve only seen a few interviews. California boy, mid-twenties, he comes from a family of athletes. He loves doing press. Seems like the type to talk your ear off.”

They both watched with appreciation as the man shook hands with almost everyone he passed, his muscled arm flexing again and again, giving everyone in the vicinity a charming grin.

“Bet you twenty dollars that we can get him to join us for a little fun tonight.”

Din turned back to Boba and gave him an incredulous look.

“You were just complaining that he’s a conceited hotshot!”

“Yeah, but he’s a pretty hotshot.”

He looked back over at the blonde man. He was lithe and lean, but with thighs that could crush a skull, just like all good Hurdlers. His wide blue eyes sparkled from all the way across the room. Boba was right, he was pretty.

Din sighed.

“Canadian dollars or New Zealand dollars?”

~~~

In the end, Boba won the bet.

It only took a little conversation, a few sly remarks, and Luke was following them back to Din’s room.

“We can lie on the bed, you know. They’re actually pretty sturdy,” Luke said, breathless as Din attacked his jaw and neck with his lips. One hand fisted into Din’s hair as the other tried to brace itself against the wall.

“Why risk it?” Din mumbled against his neck. A shiver went down his own spine as he felt Boba trail a large hand up and down his back.

“Blondie is right,” Boba said, allowing his fingers to grasp a sizeable chunk of Din’s ass as pushed up against him, “As much as I know we’re all capable of fucking against this wall, why waste the effort?”

“I thought you didn’t trust the beds?” Din muttered, leaning into Boba’s ministrations.

“Changed my mind.”

Din just hummed and pressed his back against Boba’s chest, reveling in the feeling of being trapped between the two men. He could feel Luke hard and insistent against his thigh as he sucked a bruise on his collarbone. Luke’s head hit the wall as he leaned back and the moan he let out was enough to have Din hardening even more. He pulled back from Luke’s neck to meet the smaller man’s eyes, and he noted his blown-open pupils with satisfaction.

“I don’t really care how or where,” Luke gasped out, running a hand up Din’s toned arm, “Let’s just do it.”

Din smiled and gave him another quick kiss on the lips before pulling away. He gave Boba’s shoulder a squeeze as he slipped out from between the two men and moved to his nightstand to gather supplies.

“It’s cute that you think you’re in charge here, Hotshot,” Boba rasped, suddenly stepping in to take Din’s place in front of Luke. He slowly trailed a hand along Luke’s thigh and then lifted his leg to wrap it around his hip. Luke just smirked at him.

“Don’t treat me like a kid, I’ve been around the block too.”

His hands wrapped around Boba’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue. Boba growled into his mouth and lifted Luke’s other leg, pressing him into the wall with his body.

“You’re confident now, but just wait,” Boba muttered, trailing his teeth along Luke’s jawline and nipping at his earlobe, “Din and I have been doing this for years. You Sprinters wouldn’t understand, you always finish too soon.”

“I think I can keep up with you.”

“Oh yeah? You think you have the stamina? Or are you gonna falter like you did at the Rio trials?”

“Get out of my head and get into me instead,” Luke growled.

Boba just chuckled and lifted Luke higher, pressing him back into the wall as he attacked his mouth again. Luke let out a long groan as he tried to swallow Boba’s tongue, rutting his hips against the larger man.

“Put him down for a second,” Din called out, turning back around and waving the small bottle of lube in his hand, “We’ve got to prep.”

“Sure thing,” Boba replied.

He turned around, Luke still wrapped around his waist, and then he threw the smaller man halfway across the room onto the bed.

Luke let out a small yelp as he was tossed through the air, just as Din called out “Wait!”, and then the room was filled with a horrible crashing sound as the bed collapsed and Luke hit the floor hard.

[ultimatetrashgoblin]

Blaire Reviews: Lucas Season 4

Disclaimer: This is all my opinion, you are allowed to disagree with me. I encourage you to read this route and form your own opinions. (I highly encourage you to read this route if you haven’t already, it’s one of the best on the app)

We start off in the middle of the battle with the Warlock, which could be going better. To summarize my feelings of the first two episodes:

“LUCAS NO SOMEBODY STOP HIM SHIT NO FUCK MMC DO SOMETHING LUCAS NO- HE’S GONNA DIE SHIT FUCK OH MY GOD NO LUCAS-“

To make it understandable to those of you who still haven’t read Lucas’s route (which you should), MMC and the Warlock are connected via the stardust so if Lucas were to kill the Warlock it would also kill MMC. Now this may come as a shock to many, but Lucas does not want MMC to die.

The fairytale squad (did we ever decide on an actual name for the group?) are able to convince the stars to temporarily trap the Warlock in the ocean while they come up with an alternate plan. They decide to use the magic from Lucas’s sword and the lighthouse to defeat the Warlock while keeping MMC alive.

When it doesn’t seem to be working, MMC realizes that he can use the power of love to defeat the Warlock and kisses Lucas.

This, combined with the lighthouse beacon, is powerful enough to turn the Warlock to stone. And that’s where it ends, Lucas defeats the Warlock, and he and MMC live happily and nothing else happens.

Except…

This is our new friend *checks notes* Sir George Nicholas Abernathy the Seventeenth, Lord of the Abernathy Plains, High Counselman of the Realm, Ambassador to the Fae of the North, Emissary from the King of the Garnet Throne, also known as Georgie Sir George.

Sir George was sent to bring Lucas back to the Garnet Kingdom. But as long as the memory spell is intact, the doors between worlds remain shut. Lucas, who is incapable of not making decisions that could get him killed, offers himself as a magical vessel to speed up the process of breaking the spell. FMC, thankfully, refuses, solidifying my love for her.

They decide that instead of relying on only one person, the combined magic of everyone and the lingering magic of the Warlock could be used to break the spell.

With the MCs' memories returned, it means that Lucas and Sir George have to go back to the magical world. MMC insists that he should go with them to make sure Lucas is okay.

Once at the palace, the three go to the throne room to see the Garnet King. As it turns out, he isn't there. He's also too busy to see his only son after like a year of him being in the other world.

With both MMC and I gathering every bit of self-control we can muster to not murder the king, Lucas is dragged off to do prince things and MMC is brought to a guest room. MMC wakes up in the middle of the night and goes to the garden, where he overhears Lucas admitting that he doesn't want to become king and that he would rather live at the lighthouse with MMC. This entire scene was beautiful, and I’m tempted to post the entire thing, but since tumblr only allows ten photos per post, and I have other things to talk about, I'll settle for the transcript.

I’m not crying you are

Lucas and MMC decide to leave using FMC's spell, but not before Lucas formally abdicates from the throne. He tells Sir George that he demands to speak with his father. This, of course, goes very well. Sir George informs them that MMC has been accepted as Lucas's royal consort!

Sir George leads Lucas and MMC into the garden, where he tells them he contacted the Red and White Queens for help getting back to the other world. They send Dr. Tutorea (Jimmy has returned!) to help them. Right as the three are about to leave, Sir George asks to go with them, and so he does.

Once back in the other world, plans for the future are made, and new titles are decided.

We end on the beach, with MMC playing his uke for the group. In season one, he was so nervous to play in front of people that he made Lucas turn around. I thought it was a nice addition to show how far MMC has come as a character. And while we're talking about season one, I noticed a parallel between MMC and Lucas's first kiss and the last scene of this route that warmed my heart.

Final Thoughts

It's always sad to see a route end, especially one as incredible as Lucas's. I've already raved about the writing (which I believe to be the best on the app), but the dynamic between MMC and Lucas was incredible to see grow, and the journey they went through both in fighting the warlock and their personal relationship was perfectly paced.

I'll miss this route dearly, but I'll enjoy seeing them again in other routes (though of course it's never the same). Once again, I implore you all to read this route if you haven't already. It will always be one of my favorites.

Overall Rating: 10/10

Favorite CG:

[gaywatch]

When you first started studying tarot how & where did you start? I've been wanting to study tarot for a long time but I don't know what to do or how to even start.

Yesssssss, my moment has arrived. <3

What you're most likely looking for are guides to the Rider-Waite-Smith tarot, by far the most popular version of the tarot deck. There are a few other versions out there which are starkly different from RWS yet serve similar goals, but I strongly recommend starting with RWS and branching out from there if you're curious.

Overview: The great thing with tarot is that it's all about your specific view, insight, and intuition about the cards. Yes, there are agreed upon core meanings and layers to each of the cards that we all operate from. But no two people will have the exact same feelings and insights about a single card. Everyone has something new to contribute, some angle you never considered. As you gather other people's meanings/insights/lessons about the cards and learn more about the images, symbols, and associations, you'll start to get your own notions about things. This, essentially, is how you learn tarot. What's more, that's how tarot was created: a couple people drew images and inspiration from all kinds of different places and made a deck out of their own conclusions. It's all highly personal, yet strangely universal. I dunno how, but RWS managed to boil down the entire human experience into 78 cards. Wild.

How tarot works: Tarot is a tool, and like any tool it can be used to various ends. The deck has its roots in divination and fortune-telling, but the truth is that many hands have touched and influenced the deck over the past century or so, from pagans to Christians to Judaism to psychologists. Basically, any belief about what really makes tarot work (magic/cosmic/secular) is valid and after digging into it for a while you'll likely form your own opinion.

My personal take has become more and more popular in the past twenty years: that tarot is a psychological tool which can be used for personal growth and problem solving (aka - therapy). By using age-old symbols and images that we have built associations with over thousands of years, tarot cards bring thoughts/feelings from the subconscious into the conscious in a rather astonishing way. It's kinda like an ink blot test, except the ink blots have a meaning of their own, working with you instead of purely waiting to be projected upon.

Where to start: You can find the original RWS tarot deck (78 cards made up of 22 Major, 40 Minor, 16 Court) for under $20 online or at any new age-y store. There are a couple variations of the art quality on offer--just choose whichever one you like best. From there you can go hunting on Youtube, the bookstore, or wherever else for individual card meanings and start compiling them in one place and in your own words (like a word doc or notebook). There's no need to rush, you have 78 cards to get acquainted with before you even introduce the concept of reversals. Absorbing the meanings and lessons* within the cards is equally as important learning how to conduct a reading for yourself or others.

*Honestly, you'll gain an enormous amount of wisdom simply from studying the lessons within each card and taking them to heart.

Where I started: If you dig the secular/psychological approach like me, here are the main resources I used in the beginning.

Kelly Ann Maddox - Her beginner's guide to tarot is indispensable when it comes to grasping the concepts, context, and history of tarot + the cards. She's from the witchy end of things, but I found the way she presents the information to be very neutral and secular. I've watched the entire series more than once.

Biddy Tarot - An excellent place for card meanings. She's thorough, insightful, clear, and accessible.

Galaxy Tarot - It's the only tarot app I've ever liked, and I love it. It has all the meanings, does spreads for you, connects common themes within a spread for you, and just for a one time fee of a few bucks you can make your own notes on every single card (plus unlock a bunch of extras). May as well have a deck and a cheat sheet in your pocket.

Side Note: Since there's no rigid structure to learning tarot, if you need some benchmarks to judge your knowledge by I tend to split the progress up like this: If you're still learning the card meanings, you're a beginner. When you have the cards down cold and you're learning how they interact with each other + your intuition for the best readings, you're at a moderate level. When you can give readings for yourself or others without second guessing yourself or looking something up for reference, you're advanced. When you can clearly communicate a reading to someone, helping them glean their own meaning and lesson from a spread while guiding them through their problems with the wisdom of the deck, you're a professional.

Pace yourself, find joy in the learning process, and if you ever wanna talk tarot my inbox is totally waiting. <3

[cowboyshit]

Only for the Holidays (pt 3)

Ship: Adam “Hangman” Page and Ivy (OFC) Summary: Adam and Ivy cross paths at a mutual friend’s holiday party and hit it off, both admitting they’ve grown tired of constantly being asked about having a partner at the various holiday events they have to attend. They come to an agreement to pretend to date for the holidays to get their friends and family off their backs, but neither of them admit that they’ve had an attraction to each other from the beginning. Will these feelings come to a head? Or will the pair be able to stick to their original plan and only get through the holidays together? Rating: general/fluff Length: 5,484 words part THREE of THREE (part one, part two), the fic can also be read in it’s entirety on ao3 (here)

author’s note: and alas! the final installment of this little fake-dating series I wrote for viv’s @12daysofchristmas​ challenge! I hope you guys enjoy the finale to this sweet little story, it was nice to write something so warm and fluffy for the holidays even if I was writing it all by the seat of my pants and didn’t have anything planned LOL

Ivy’s phone chimed, indicating a new text message had come through. Pausing in wrapping the last of the gifts she had left, she leaned over and grabbed it to look at the screen. There was a new text message from Adam. A smile immediately turned the corners of her mouth and she quickly opened their text conversation.

How’s your voice doing?

She laughed and immediately tapped out a reply. Better. I actually have one today! 

She had lost her voice while screaming at the live Dynamite show his friends invited her to a couple days ago. She’d never been one of the kids who watched wrestling growing up and knew only vaguely what it was about, but she’d had an even better time than she expected. The show they’d put on was fast and full of stunts and surprises Ivy would have never expected. They’d also been absolutely right about it being fun to watch ringside, though she’d had to fight through nerves any time the camera men pointed those large cameras her way. She’d screamed so much by the time she woke up the next morning she’d all but lost her voice.

Watching Adam perform in the ring had been something else entirely. The things he was able to do astonished her. He had to explain what all the moves were called after the match as she excitedly babbled backstage, but he’d seemed like he was glowing when he had. Her favorite had been the “flippy thing he did in the middle” (the shooting star press) and the “flippy thing he did off the pole” (the moonsault off the ring post). She liked the way his blond curls fluffed out and floated, catching the white lights that lit the ring as he maintained control and soared through the air. The athleticism and strength he possessed was amazing. She remembered her delighted surprise when he caught his opponent mid-leap, carried him to the center of the ring, tossed him over and popped up in a smooth kip up that had her eyes gone wide. She’d seen his muscles when she caught herself admiring him, but she hadn’t realized just how strong he was.

Her phone chimed again and distracted her from daydreaming about watching him shirtless and sweaty, getting riled up in the ring. She felt suddenly warm and blushed, looking down at his message.

What are you up to tonight?

They’d been doing this a lot lately. Just texting idly throughout their days, even though her family party wasn’t until tomorrow night. It had started with her asking questions about what to wear to a wrestling show and him giving her details for where she’d need to go, but they always sort of fell into carrying the conversation beyond that. He was just… easy to talk to.

Easy on the eyes, too.

Ivy shook her head at herself and sent him a reply. Wrapping up the last of the gifts to take over tomorrow night. 

Oh shoot, was I supposed to get something for your mom?

Ivy couldn’t help but smile. You’re a brand new “boyfriend” she’s never met before, remember? She doesn’t even know about your existence, you don’t have to get her anything. Besides, the family does a big gift exchange cause there’s too many people to individually buy for, and you and I have a joint gift I already bought.

What did we get for the gift exchange? Another quick reply. The notifications were popping up that he read her message as soon as she sent it, which meant he had their conversation actively open.

Ivy opened her camera app and snapped a picture of the still-to-be-wrapped box set full of all the tools necessary to make delicious hot cocoa, as well as peppermint bark, a little bottle of peppermint schnapps and one of chocolate liqueur. She sent the picture to him and typed: A giftset to make spiked hot cocoa! 

What are the rules on getting your own gift in the gift exchange? That sounds good. Never spiked my cocoa with peppermint before.

Ivy’s fingers jumped quick to type her message: Really? I don’t do it often since I just like cocoa by itself, but it’s pretty tasty! I’ll have to make it for you some time. She clicked send before reading it back over, then looked at the message and felt her eyes go wide. She should make it for him sometime? When? When they were at her family’s big gettogether, pretending to date so her family wouldn’t make her feel bad for being single? Or when they supposedly “broke up” a few weeks later?

His reply didn’t come back as immediately as the others did. Worry twisted in her stomach.

That would be nice, I’d like that. His reply chimed back. He was just being polite, obviously. She sent a little smiling emoji in reply and closed their conversation, setting her phone aside as she decided to distract herself by finishing wrapping up gifts. After, she could pick what she’d be wearing tomorrow night to the party. Of course she’d been silly to think she could avoid catching some sort of feelings, even a passing infatuation for a cute, sweet, blond-haired cowboy. He clearly hadn’t (she remembered his playful promise that they wouldn’t fall for each other) and she wasn’t going to make him uncomfortable by pursuing something he clearly didn’t feel.

When her phone stayed dark and no further messages came through to carry on their conversation, Ivy knew she was right.

**********

He’d already been nervous the whole day leading up to when he was going to pick Ivy up at her place, but seeing her coming out of the house in her pretty red holiday dress made his mouth go dry. He was a step behind climbing out of the cab to go around and pop the door open for her like a gentleman ought to, too caught up with staring at her walk down the steps of her porch. His fingers curled around the handle as she waited by the passenger side of his truck, rocking a little in her heels. Her smile picked up as she thanked him for opening her door. Adam smiled, but still had to look away from her for a moment.

She was so damn pretty… but it wasn’t just physical. Something had changed for him that night she came out to see him wrestle. He’d felt different in the ring. More energized. He hadn’t been able to stop grinning as he watched her excitedly talk about everything she’d liked afterwards. He’d asked her question after question just to keep her talking. Adam made her tell him everything she liked and didn’t like about the entire night and had laughed as he explained what the different lingo meant. They’d ordered late night food to Daily’s Place and stayed up talking with each other and sometimes with the other wrestlers who were still lingering about.

The next morning he woke up and he missed her. None of this was fake, not any more. Not for him, anyways. Her promise to make him spiked hot cocoa sometime had sat on his mind all night, and it popped up again as he climbed back into the cab and pulled away from the curb. Was it a joke he wasn’t supposed to look too far into? Was she just being nice? Or was that her way of telling him she thought they should keep seeing one another?

This night, her family’s party, was meant to be the last time they were technically together. Every minute that ticked by was one more they wouldn’t have… unless she liked him the way he liked her. Adam just needed to find the right time to ask her. Maybe he’d wait until after the party, he thought, glancing over at her and smiling as she checked her lipstick in the visor mirror. Yeah, that sounded fair. They’d have a good time tonight and in a week or so, he’d reach out and see how she was and find some way to bring it up, even if every time he thought about how much he liked her he got butterflies in his stomach and felt like his tongue swelled up.

She gave him the last of the directions and he slowed his truck as they pulled up to a country home set on at least a good acre of land. The large two-story home was glowing warm out its many windows and was strung up in pretty, twinkling lights. When he parked, he noticed just how many cars were around them.

“Your family really doesn’t mess around, huh?” She’d warned him that her family went all out for the holidays, all the generations rotating households for hosting each year. This year just so happened to be the year her parents were hosting.

“They really don’t,” she said with a laugh as they walked side-by-side up the walkway leading to the porch. Automatic, Adam’s hand reached and curled around hers. She slid her eyes toward him and then smiled and looked at all the cars they were passing, starting to mutter to herself who all had already showed up.

“These are all your relatives?” Adam wasn’t unfamiliar with big family gatherings - his entire upbringing had been Sunday lunches at his grandma’s with all the family in attendance - but he hadn’t anticipated this many people.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Grandma and Grandpa had eleven kids and each of those kids has gotten married and has kids and every one of their kids except for one have had their own kids. Hell, there’s even a new great-grandbaby this year.”

“Wow,” Adam laughed and shook his head, walking up the porch steps and feeling his nerves rise inside. 

“The only one who hasn’t had grandkids?” She asked as they stopped in front of the door, her brow arching. “My mom. Because I haven’t had any, and neither has my brother. So… just be ready in case she decides the first time meeting you is the right moment to start slipping baby name ideas to you.”

Adam chuckled. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Alright, brace yourself.” She smiled and turned the knob to open the large wood door with its pretty glass-front window design. 

Immediately there was warmth and laughter and underneath the mix of chatter was the soft sounds of low-volume classic Christmas music. String lights hung around the home offered lovely soft yellow lighting, with red ribbons and garland all around. It was beautiful enough to be seen on television, or so Adam thought. As he looked around the living area he tried to picture it without the holiday decorations, the home Ivy grew up in. What kind of kid had she been? Was she bold and adventurous or careful and shy? He looked over at her profile and realized their hands were still clasped. 

The nearest people greeted Ivy as she passed and she only took her hand from his to give hugs, catching up with quick questions of how everyone was doing and introducing Adam as they went. By the time he met the sixth or seventh person he realized he was already getting names mixed up. Adam cursed himself and glanced back from where they’d came, squinting as he looked at the faces he’d seen and trying to remember what had been said when they’d been introduced to him not even a minute ago.

“There you are sweetheart! Come here!” A jovial looking woman, short with round hips and waves of gold-blond hair came toward Ivy with open arms. She grabbed her up in a hug and squeezed her tight, even though Ivy groaned.

“Mom! You act like you haven’t seen me in years!” She complained.

“Oh like your mom can’t shower you in love every time you see her.” Her mother shook her head as she pulled away, only then seeming to notice Adam. Her eyes went wide. “Who’s this?” She looked back at Ivy for an explanation.

“My name’s Adam, ma’am.” Adam knew when and how to lay on the charm and he’d promised Ivy he’d be the perfect so-called boyfriend to keep her mother off her back. He extended a hand for a polite shake. 

“Mom, this is my…” Ivy and Adam’s eyes met. Her expression softened. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her mom echoed, still holding on to Adam’s hand as she looked from her daughter back to him. “Well! Has he met everyone yet? Did you get him something to drink? What do you want sweetheart? We have eggnog, homemade!” And, still holding on to his hand, Ivy’s mom started to drag him away, ignoring Ivy’s protests that she was introducing him slowly to the family and they’d make their way to the kitchen eventually.

Ivy hadn’t been kidding when she said her family - and her mother - could be a little overwhelming. Although rather than leaving him anxious and strung tight, it was that good kind of overwhelming that instead had him dizzy with warmth and love. Adam was dragged around the house, introduced to everyone he hadn’t met yet (and even those he had) as Ivy followed and kept trying to get her mother to relinquish her hold on him in between apologizing for her mother’s behavior. Truthfully, Adam was struggling to hold back a smile. She was cute, concerned and fussing over him like that, putting those big, pleading eyes on his as she begged him to just hold out a little bit longer.

Finally their trip rounded them back in a circle where her mother was beckoned from the kitchen to help set up more snack trays. Adam and Ivy were left alone (relatively, of course, he noticed there were people grouped throughout the living area) and as they met one another’s eyes he widened his and exhaled an exhausted breath.

“Wow.”

“I know!” Her brows dipped inward, creating little wrinkle lines on her forehead. She reached out and put a hand on his forearm and he felt the muscle tense, electricity up his skin from her touch. “I’m so sorry Adam. I told you she’s relentless and was going to want everyone to meet my boyfriend.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, I felt like a well-bred stud being marched around and shown off.”

“Oh my god!” Ivy snickered and then groaned. Her hand slipped off his arm and he wished he could reach out and put a hand on her hip just to keep them touching. “It was exactly like that. Once she knew you were on t.v. it was all over.” She shook her head, sighing. “I’m sorry, your friends weren’t nearly as much as my mom has been. And this is only the first half hour of the night.”

Adam laughed and as cute as she was worried over him, he decided he’d calm those fears of hers. He started to lift his hand, wanting to push his palm against her cheek and gently hold her face, then remembered himself and let it drop to his side. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Nah, I honestly don’t mind it at all. It’s done wonders for my confidence.” His grin stretched playfully into his bearded cheeks.

“You’re a saint,” Ivy laughed and he was happy to see she was happy.

“What about you?” He asked, “I know we’ve only been here a little bit but is it helping?” He hoped it was.

“It is!” She said without hesitation. “That whole time my mom was dragging you around to show you off would have been spent with her reliving my exes to me, asking me where they’re at now, or telling me about women she knows who have single sons my age, or this cute young man my age she met at the grocery store and struck up a conversation with and got his number for me.”

Adam blew another breath out of his mouth. “I’m glad I can help.” But a frown worked its way across his brow. Ivy was a smart, successful, capable woman all on her own. It wasn’t fair that her mother only considered her relationship something to discuss and didn’t pay attention to everything else her daughter was. “You okay?” She asked, and he realized she’d been watching him and seen his change in expression.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah.” But she still peered at him and he knew this wasn’t the place to broach a serious topic like that. “When are you going to tell her about the promotion?”

“Honestly I was so busy trying to keep her from smothering you I completely forgot.” She laughed. “I guess I’ll tell her after the gifts are over. Anyways, come on-” she grabbed his hand, tingles again “-let’s go load up our plates with finger foods. It’s the best part of the whole night.”

Adam grinned, following after her as she held his hand, twining his fingers around hers and thinking about how whole he felt.

*********

The entire evening was better than Ivy could have anticipated. She knew it was mostly due to having Adam as her near-constant company, and feeling warmly closer to him than they probably had any right to be. During the gift exchange they’d claimed a spot on one of the couches and like it was natural, Ivy had leaned into him, Adam had lifted his arm and wrapped it snug around her shoulders. They’d shared a little smile then both looked away, staying cuddled up throughout the entirety of the exchange.

It had come to an end as the last gift was opened and she still didn’t move to get up from leaning on Adam’s soft yet somehow firm body. He didn’t try to lift his arm to separate them, either. Their supposedly shared gift sat at their feet in front of the couch, a large fluffy blanket that she’d had to have the moment she felt it and a Starbucks gift card. Absolutely perfect.

Conversation flowed happily around the room. Ivy and Adam were listening as her father retold his favorite Christmas story - the night Ivy was six and they’d had to come to a sudden stop on snowy roads, after the car righted itself there was a little gathering of stags that’d run out of the woods. Ivy had started to cry, worried that they were Santa’s reindeer and had gotten lost, meaning Santa wouldn’t be able to deliver presents that evening.

“I had to sit there and explain all about the differences between reindeer and white-tails and promise her the whole way home that Santa was going to be able to come that night.” Her father was grinning near ear-to-ear as he chuckled.

Ivy rolled her eyes, but smiled. She was tired of hearing the story every year but it was clearly endearing to her father. Adam, hearing it for the first time, had seemed to enjoy listening to it too.

“She was so cute kicking up a fuss like that.” Her father said warmly.

“I’ll bet she was.” Adam said. Ivy glanced quickly up at him only to see his eyes were locked on hers. Her stomach felt as if it erupted in a wild fluttering of butterflies and she swallowed, feeling a little hot in her cheeks. This was more… wasn’t it? They were being more coupley, weren’t they? Even more than they’d been at his company holiday party. Was their being together, their touching and holding hands becoming more natural to him, too? Or was she going crazy, projecting and seeing the things she wanted to see to justify how she felt about him now?

The questions would drive her insane, she needed to change the topic.

Ivy cleared her throat and looked back at her parents. “I’m getting a promotion at work.”

“Are you?” Her mother gasped.

“That’s wonderful sweetheart,” her father praised with a smile. “When did you find out?”

“A few weeks ago,” Ivy smiled, suddenly feeling almost shy with Adam’s proud gaze on her, his hand gently rubbing up and down her arm. The skimming of his fingertips on her skin was almost distracting.

“Why did you wait so long to tell us?!” Her mother admonished. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing! You’ve been working so hard, it’s about time they recognized it.”

“Thank you mom,” Ivy laughed.

“How’s the pay increase?” Her dad asked.

Ivy shook her head. “It’s actually pretty impressive if I’m being honest.” She’d already started to daydream about all the things in her life she was going to invest in and upgrade. “I’ve been working my ass off to get this promotion.”

“Well!” Her mother was beaming and her eyes slid to Adam and back to Ivy, her smile getting a mischievous little twist. Oh no, thought Ivy. “With more money you’d be able to support a child.” She winked as though they shared an inside secret, then gave that same wink to Adam. “I happen to think I’d make the perfect grandmother.”

Ivy’s heart sank, even with Adam at her side, she was still incomplete. She was sure her mother didn’t mean it, but it still stung. Before she could say something wrong and upset her mother or change the subject entirely, Adam was speaking up.

“With all due respect, ma’am, Ivy and I just started dating; we’re a little far off from seeing how compatible we are or if children are even something either of us want.”

“Oh, of course,” her mother looked taken aback. Ivy gaped at Adam and wasn’t sure if she should pinch him or kiss him for speaking up to her mother.

Adam looked at her, seemed to hesitate, then started talking again. “I know you’re proud of your daughter,” he glanced back toward her parents, who were now watching him with slightly guarded expressions, “but when you jump straight to talking about her lack of children or who she’s dating, it makes it seem like that’s all you care about. I know it’s not my place to say, but I also know it bothers her, and she shouldn’t have to feel like she’s anything less than the amazing woman I’ve come to see she is.”

The small group was quiet. Ivy didn’t know what to say or do. Adam had talked calmly, never raising his voice, but he’d effectively checked her mother’s habit to overlook Ivy’s accomplishments. It was a bold move for a real boyfriend, even bolder for a fake one. Or, hell, maybe he figured he wouldn’t be seeing her parents again and was free to stick up for her even under their own house.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to grab his face and kiss him. No one had ever stood up for her like that. Still, Ivy worried over her mother’s reaction and looked back at her.

“Do I really do it that often?”

“Mom,” Ivy sighed and glanced down at her hands. She made herself look back up. “Yeah. You do. It’s why I waited so long to tell you about the promotion. I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but it feels like it is. It makes me feel like…” Their voices were low enough the conversation was truly just among the four of them, but Ivy still paused to make sure no family members were listening in that she didn’t want to overhear. “Mom, you just make me feel like I’m not doing enough if I’m not seeing someone or giving you a grandchild.” Emboldened by the honesty coming out, she looked over at Adam and shook her head, realizing how ridiculous the whole thing had been to start with. “I mean, Adam and I aren’t even-”

“Aren’t even that serious yet.” He jumped in, talking over her. Ivy tilted her head, eyes on his. Why didn’t he want her to tell her parents that they weren’t actually dating?

“I’m sorry, baby,” her mother said, and when Ivy looked back saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d been so awful about it to you.”

“Mom, no,” Ivy shook her head, shoulders dropping. “Don’t cry. I should have told you how much it bothered me instead of just grinning and bearing it.”

Getting up from the couch, Ivy’s mother stood up too. Immediately Ivy wrapped her arms around her mother and cuddled tight into her as her mother held her, too. “I’m sorry sweetie,” she whispered again in Ivy’s ear, squeezing her a little tighter for a moment before they let go. 

“I really am proud of you, you know that? My little Ivy put herself through college, got her dream job, is living independently, and achieving all her dreams. I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you! I brag about you all the time. I just, well, I’m your mom. I worry about you being all alone. And yes, maybe I am a bit baby crazy and I’ve started pushing that off on you.” She shook her head. “You can have no kids, have ten kids, marry once, marry never, I don’t care sweetie. I’m always going to be proud of you.”

“Thank you, mom.” Ivy said, now feeling her own tears rising. She reached to wipe at her eyes, careful of her make-up.

“Hey! No crying on Christmas!” A cousin shouted, looking over and seeing her and her mother having their close, emotional talk. Ivy shook her head as laughter rippled around the room.

“It’s not Christmas, it’s December 19th!” Her mother scolded back. “We can cry all we want to.”

“I think I’m good on the crying,” Ivy laughed and looked back at her mom, softening. “Thank you, mom.”

“You don’t have to thank me for coming to my senses.”

“Well, I think it was more like you were forced to come to your senses.” Her father spoke up and slapped his thighs as he lifted off the couch to stand up with them. Adam stood up as well. 

Rubbing his hand at the back of his neck, Adam spoke up. “I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t polite of me-”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Her mother hushed him almost immediately. “I was a little shocked at first, but clearly this was something we needed to talk about.” “I think I would have preferred a less crowded house,” Ivy admitted, looking around. Most of the family was still deep in their own conversations, but she had to have imagined some of them had overheard.

“Any man who stands up for my little girl, to her own mother no less, the first time he’s meeting the family… well, that’s a man I definitely approve of for my daughter.” Ivy’s father chuckled and patted Adam on the back. “I like this one, sweetheart. He’s a good one.”

Ivy smiled as their eyes met. “Yeah, he is.”

The party carried on for a couple more hours of happy chatter until one by one the families started to slowly trickle out. Ivy and Adam were the last to leave, helping tidy up around the house despite her mother’s assurance they shouldn’t bother themselves by cleaning. It really wasn’t a bother. Ivy thought of it as a sort of sweet domesticity, picking up plates and putting leftover food away, cleaning up trash and righting the house again side-by-side with Adam. She kept sneaking glances over at him as he smiled back at her; a few times they’d reached for the same things and brushed their hands against each other. Their touches continued to linger a little longer and a little longer each time, her cheeks warm as their eyes held contact. By the end her gaze kept finding its way to his lips; she just couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop wondering what’d be like to kiss him.

Adam sucked in a breath as they stepped back, having finished putting the last of the food up. “I guess we should get on home?” He asked.

It was rather late, though Ivy felt hesitation she knew was due to this being their possible last moments together. If she said yes, they would walk out of the door, get in his truck, he would drive her home and drop her off and they supposedly would never see one another again. Or, well, they’d maybe see one another, but nothing like this. Nothing like tonight had been. Nothing like the past few weeks had been.

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to let any regret seep into her tone. “We probably should.”

They went to say their goodbyes to her parents, gathering their gift and the leftovers her mother pushed off on her before they finally stepped out of the house. Ivy exhaled into the cool late-night winter air as Adam closed the front door and they stood on the porch.

“Thank you,” she said, not yet descending the steps to go to his truck.

“For?” He frowned, tilting his head as he looked down at her.

“For... standing up for me? For being...you? I don’t know. I just had such a good time tonight I feel like I need to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, darlin’.” He smiled. “I had just as good a time tonight as you, promise. Although, I do still feel like I should apologize. That wasn’t my place to talk to your mom like that.”

“Adam, it’s okay. I was a little taken aback but, honestly like my mom said, that conversation needed to happen.”

“I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” he said, his voice a little hushed. They were still lingering on the porch. Ivy felt like she could stand there all night in spite of the chill, but knew they shouldn’t. She took one last longing glance at his lips and smiled. “I doubt I could ever really be mad at you.” 

Maybe little things, tiny annoyances on nerve-frazzled days or the common day-to-day things you argue and work through and overcome to come back stronger than ever. Nothing that would ever make her really resent him, though. She could tell herself until she was blue in the face they’d only been talking a month and she probably didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, but something was telling her everything with Adam would just make sense.

She honestly never felt like this with anyone before. How could she feel so connected to him when they were still essentially strangers? When they hadn’t even really been dating to begin with?

“Come on,” she turned away, the gift bag and tote bag of leftover goodies in tow. “We should probably get off my parent’s porch.”

“Wait,” he said as she turned to walk away, “we almost forgot...”

“Forgot what?” Ivy looked back at him and saw he’d taken a step to close their distance. She had to tilt her head to look up into his eyes where she saw he was holding a little piece of garland.

“It’s tradition to kiss under mistletoe.” He said.

“Adam…” It was hard to keep herself from giggling. The grin spread and pushed up into her cheeks. “That’s not mistletoe, that’s a piece of fake pine-needle garland I think you stole from my mom’s house.”

“Tomato, tom-ah-to. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to do this...” He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers.

Immediately she warmed to his touch, melting against the contact. He took the invitation to sink deeper into their kiss. His hand dropped and found its place on her hip, pulling her tighter against him. The garland had been dropped to the ground, happily forgotten as he ran his tongue between the split of her lips and then sank inside her mouth as she opened with invitation.

The bags fell with a rustle and a thump by her feet and her arms came up quickly around his shoulders, wrapping tightly and pulling him down on her. Their heads moved, matching the shape of their lips better. His fingers squeezed into her hips, the passion mounting further and further the longer their lips touched and tongues stroked.

They broke apart, chests rising and falling quick as they exhaled large, foggy white breaths in the small space between them. All Ivy could taste was him. She felt deliriously dizzy.

“I have been wanting to do that for a long damn time,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I broke our rule,” she confessed. They were still holding each other, going nowhere but lost in one another’s eyes.

“Our rule?”

“We weren’t supposed to fall for each other, remember? I’m afraid I might be falling, cowboy.”

A warm smile melted across his face.

“I think I’ve already beat you there.” He bent and, just before his lips touched hers, exhaled his promise across her mouth, “I’ll be ready to catch you, darlin’.”

[teriwrites]

2020 Writing Wrap-Up

Something that I do every year on the 1st is go back through absolutely everything I’ve written throughout the previous year and compile it into one massive word document. Everything from outlining notes to unfinished short stories to my NaNo project wind up in that file, where I like to read back and reflect on what I’ve gotten done through the year. 

Every year, I end up having written more than I expected, and this year was no different! 

Total for 2020: 203,119!

This is the first recorded year (I think it’s year 4 that I’ve done this for?) in which I’ve cracked 200K! It’s also the first year I’ve ever actually followed through on my resolution to share some of my writing online! So as rough as 2020 has been, I still somehow managed to break some personal records in writing. Which probably has everything to do with the fact that I joined this community earlier this year, and it’s been incredibly encouraging and supportive!

I also branched out a bit more this year in a few ways. I worked on some poetry and prose, which is not something I’ve put a lot of time into before so tends to be a challenge. It’s nothing that I’ll be posting anytime soon, but it was fun to work on in the moment, which is especially important in such a wild year as 2020.

One snag that I definitely hit was the fact that I have a lot more unfinished work than most years. A majority of the short stories I started working on never got finished. But I can’t even be too upset about that, because I totally loved being able to read back on even the fragmented pieces I ended up with. And while I do think a large part of that (for me) is discipline over inspiration, I’m willing to accept that, sometimes, things will remain unfinished. And it’s okay to stop working on them. 

My overall focus shifted a bit this year, too, which was interesting. I worked more on longer things than most years - started out the year by finishing my first draft of Castle on the Hill, continued making some edits and reworking its outline, did a large part of Beneath Alder Creek’s first draft in November. Right now, I’m working on what I expect to be a novella by the time I’m done with it. It’s a big contrast to the usual, short and snappy short stories that fill most of my previous wrap-up files. But I still definitely write those sometimes, and it’s nice to be able to try stretching and testing my own boundaries. 

This is the part of my wrap-up where I go ham throwing in some of my favorite out-of-context quotes from a variety of different things I’ve worked on. Some of them might be familiar, a lot probably won’t. I’m going to post it beneath the thing so this doesn’t become even more absurdly long!

Some of the ~highlights~ of 2020:

First Thoughts in the Morning: wow the sexual tension between me and the alarm clock right now. Later Reflection: wtf? (a literal note on my notes app that I included because I Cannot remember writing any of this and it made me laugh)

Edriele’s gaze trailed down to the woman’s armor, and her stomach twisted. “Where did you find your attire?” The woman glanced down in surprise, as though she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “It was fitted to me when I gained my ranking. I suppose it draws attention, but after my confrontation at… you mean to ask me whether I’m impersonating a Knight!” “The thought had crossed my mind,” the Sister replied dryly. (novella WIP)

“Do you need to make a stop at your house before we head to the chapel?” Leslie asked as they started off. “What for?” Winnie asked. Leslie looked pointedly at the tip of her galoshes poking out from beneath her dress. With another roll of her eyes, Winnie sighed. “Oh, I suppose so.” (Beneath Alder Creek)

When the third meeting for the Society of the Hidden Immortal Tribe was called for the decade, I knew heads would roll. Gathering the entire society together took months. Everything had to be hush-hush; that was the entire point of spreading ourselves out. Plus, every time a letter arrived in the mail, it was a reminder of the idiot who had decided we needed a name change. Everybody agreed that being deemed the ‘S.H.I.T.’ was humiliating, but nobody could agree on a better title, so it had remained the same for nearly a full century. That was the problem with living forever. You always had more time to make decisions, and, in the end, nothing ever got done. (S.H.I.T.)

When she leaves, I’m not sure I remember a word of what she’s said. But as the stresses of the semester wash back in, and my mind clears like being pulled out of a dream, I suddenly understand how one could crash upon the rocks without realizing they’d ever changed their course. (A Modern Siren)

When Georg arrived later, he found Klaus leaning forwards onto the table, staring vacuously at one of his textbooks. "Studying hard?" he taunted as he approached and dropped into the seat Ingrid had been occupying. "I talked with Ingrid," Klaus explained. Georg's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, but he quickly recovered and looked pointedly at Klaus' posture. "Go that well, then?" "She said I'm arrogant and completely self-involved and that I never take what a girl says into account whenever I'm on a date." With a haunted gleam in his eye, Klaus stared up at his friend. "I think she's right." "Well then it's a good thing somebody pointed it out," Georg offered, and he turned to his work. (Castle on the Hill)

Takemoto Hana rested a hand over her face. She couldn’t see the swirling of darkness over her head, but she heard the whine behind its words. With a wry smile, she asked, ‘Do you not know how to brew tea?’ ‘Of course I know how to brew tea!’ The dark spirit’s voice boomed with a defensive defiance that rang false in the funny little woman’s ears.  (The Funny Little Woman)

“None of us want to be here right now,” Edgar called out to the hall. “None of us want to go back through the handbook and listen to the steps of proper etiquette in immortality. But it seems that, once again, it’s necessary.” “Dammit, Dave,” muttered the man next to me. I said nothing, but I couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Dave was… how do I describe Dave? To call him an idiot would be underestimating his craftiness. To call him a genius, I’d have to ignore all of his dumb antics. Cruel was too strong. Misguided was too innocent. Mischievous fit best, but even that fell short. Dave was a trickster god, if ever one existed. (S.H.I.T.)

Ridiculous, he told me with a self-conscious laugh of someone who didn't expect to be believed. I smiled, but I didn't join in. (The Little Roads)

“Hey, where did Alina go?” Lorelai asked. Zoe shrugged, but Jaiden cleared his throat. “I think you crossed one of her boundaries, Lo. She specifically asked not to involve her girlfriend in this, and then you did anyways. I know we needed the help, but friendships have to be built on mutual trust, my dude. You should’ve at least let her know your plan before you went behind her back.” The two women stopped and shared a look. “Hey, Jaiden,” Zoe asked. “Do you know the capital of Canada?” He shook his head. “I dunno, Ontario?” “Amazing.” (Mirror, Mirror)

"We had a bet going over whether you'd make it in time," Hans told him. "Did you win or lose?" Josef replied. Hans flipped a 5-Deutsche Mark coin over to Peter, who grinned as he pocketed it. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me." Josef's voice dripped with sarcasm. (Castle on the Hill)

Taliesin reached over his head and grabbed at one of the low-hanging bows, picking leaves from it. “I’m not sure.” Winnie stopped. “What do you mean?” “I mean that I don’t know.” (Beneath Alder Creek)

While she attended to these, the man beside her began to stir. Ella could see him out of the corner of her eye, attempting to push himself up into a sitting position. ‘You may want to lie back down,’ she told him, scrubbing uselessly at her skirt. The man continued to sit up anyways, pressing a hand against the side of his face. ‘Am I killed?’ ‘No, but your savior may be.’ Ella threw her skirt back to the ground. ‘When the Madame sees the state of me, I’ll be spending my future afternoons off making a new dress out of the fabric scraps.’ A frown crossed the man’s face as he considered her words, followed by a scowl of understanding. ‘You work for them. The bourgeoisie.’ (Cinderella)

Ingrid took the seat and began digging through her bag for a book. As she did so, she explained, "There were no other tables open in the building - even in the quiet section upstairs - so I figured that I would just ask the first person I recognized if I could sit with them, and well... here we are." "Don't worry about it," Georg answered when Klaus found himself dumbstruck again. "Just ignore the oaf, he'll leave you alone." Ingrid shot a grin at Georg, and Klaus suddenly wondered whether it was a good idea to have the two of them sit together. (Castle on the Hill)

Up ahead, I could see the glass walls of the bus stop. Usually, I waited for the bus leaning against the metal frame of the stop, leaving the seats inside open for children on their way to school. But the seats were empty now. I still avoided them. (Flo’s Magical Emporium: The Pandemic)

Now, I ask that you do not feel too much self-pity. For as easy an error as it may be to mistake a visiting aristocrat’s son for the hired help, the true talent in such a display causing his immediate departure lies within you alone. And to think that the meeting was the work of your father’s tenuous sway over the court! Well, I am sure the time away will do him some good, lest you begin to consider that you’ve ruined his position as well as your prospects. (Dearly Detested,)

Edgar was at the front of the lecture hall, and standing beside him was Dave, smirking as though at some private joke that only he was in on. He was wearing sunglasses, despite the dim lighting of the room, probably because he thought he looked cool. I rolled my eyes. What a tool. (S.H.I.T.)

 The work is different now. Countryside pathways winding through the forest lie forgotten for years without the familiar steps of a traveler. Off beaten paths in the city are never unknown for long, and sometimes streets that were once crossed by thousands a day fall back into obscurity. (The Little Roads)

“How much time will you give me to think on it?” she asked suspiciously, wrapping her arms around herself as though afraid they’d reach out to him if not kept in check. “You have all the time in the world,” the golden man said. “The boy’s, however, runs out with every passing second.” He extended his hand. (Beneath Alder Creek)

You ever met a rich person? Not comfortably wealthy. Not ‘my Uncle Kenny is a lawyer’ rich. Not even ‘widow answering the door to her manor on a hill dressed in fine silk’ rich. No, I mean proper, so-much-money-you-literally-can’t-spend-it-fast-enough rich. They say it isn’t worth Bill Gates’ time to pick up a $100 bill off the floor because he’ll have earned more in the time it takes to grab it. That kind of rich. They seem to be bred for times like these. Their houses are a source of endless entertainment – movie theaters, bowling alleys, personal gyms with a view of the sprawling landscape they overlook like cruel dictators. There’s no need for them to leave during a pandemic; they have access to the equivalent of a luxury resort most families have to save up month to visit. Necessities can be stockpiled in one of the useless extra spaces in the house. I mean, I once had to hide out in a luggage room for a contract. That’s right. An entire room dedicated to holding luggage, bigger than some of the apartments I’ve rented. I thought their residential labyrinths were my greatest source of grief. But social distancing? I’m one bad contract away from retirement. (Bounty Hunter During a Pandemic)

Shaking his head, Detlef pulled a new sheet from his notebook. “Look, I’m just saying, if we can get the satire right, we can be a modern Jonathan Swift.” “I don’t want to be a modern Jonathan Swift, I want to be a student actually passing his debate course!” Peter snapped. (Castle on the Hill)

Moonlight illuminated the German’s fair hair and pale skin, the effect more malevolent apparition than man. (Face on the Other Side of a Dark Window)

Back then, he’d been known for commissioning the exact same portrait of himself every hundred years, hanging them in a hallway in his manor and trying to pass them off as his line of ancestors to any of the locals. It had been a far less skeptical age, and Dave had earned himself a small band of worshipers before Jeff Goldblum himself had been forced to intervene. (S.H.I.T.)

Clara stood before the board of advisors assisting with her thesis. She was one, very intense paper away from her M.A., and she wasn’t about to risk it all by being too proud to ask for help. When she’d made the appointment to meet with them, she expected a series of questions surrounding her topic. Instead, they’d opened by offering her a job. “You want me to steal from the school?” Dr. Pye wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. Next to her, Dr. Pritchard said, “Don’t think of it as theft, dear. It’s merely redistribution.” Clara hadn’t amassed tens of thousands of dollars in debt to be lectured on the definition of robbery. “Either way, it involves me sneaking into the Chemistry department and taking a huge risk to get you some new toys to play with.” (Origins: The Ghost)

“Why is undermining Pryderi so important to Queen Ceridwen that she would risk breaking a timeless alliance just to dismantle them?” Her stomach twisted into a knot, protesting against the answer. “There are few members of the Dusk Court that we know by title.” A shadow passed over Enid’s expression. “The Lord of the Undernell is second only to the Queen.” “Great deeds build the reputation of one in their own court. Cruelty builds it in both.” Taliesin buckled under Winnie’s weight as she suddenly leaned against him. (Beneath Alder Creek)

“Why are all my friends so quick to endanger themselves?” I muttered as I packed up Midas’ crate. Natalie swiveled around from the candy aisle. “So you’re finally willing to admit that we’re friends?” “Save it.” (Flo’s Magical Emporium: The Pandemic)

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Graduation surprise; BoRhap cast x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey ya’ll well I promised this fic when I posted the Queen prom fic so here it is. Now I know it’s not as long as the last one is but I felt like this didn’t need to be super long. Also as another special little fact for ya’ll I was gonna make this a Queen fic as well but then I decided to change it to a BoRhap CAST fic since I hadn’t done one of just them in awhile. 

So to all seniors whether HS or college, the class of 2020 CONGRATULATIONS I know it’s not what you hoped it would be but still try to find celebration in this pandemic, you all achieved probably the greatest milestones in your life. So stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane, and be happy :) Lot’s of love from me my darlings!

Taglist:

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@platawnic​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@kairosfreddie​

_______________________________________________________________

Goddamn this year! Just when we think the new decade would be worth our wild, now we’ve got all this shit going on! First there was the threat of WW3, then the next month we’re dealing with wildfires in Australia, and finally to top it off why not add a global pandemic?!

The Coronavirus has literally been all over the news for months, and the fact that our government knew about it since late last year and didn’t warn us about it!? Then when they told us to be on lockdown, everyone starts hording toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and food that no one can buy said items for weeks on end.

But of course my main problem is the fact that I, along with so many other kids and adults around the world can’t participate in their own graduation ceremony.  As a college student, I was just longing to finally participate in my final graduation ceremony ever.  This was supposed to be my final chapter in school life and now because of this damn virus, that’s gone.

I mean yeah my diploma will be coming in the mail but I wanted my family to all be there to see me reach the end of my school life before I finally begin a new chapter.  Plus my cousin’s friends said that they would come and see me and I’ve missed seeing those guys, I hadn’t seen them all since the Bohemian Rhapsody premiere.

I sat there in my old room of my house (cause since the University closed down back in March, all students had to leave the college campus and go home so that way we could reduce the spread of the virus. So I ended up moving back in with my parents) just finishing up my final paper for class.

That’s when my Zoom video chat blew up with my cousin’s profile pic.  I grinned and clicked on the answer button and soon enough my cousin’s face took over my screen.

“Hey poppet.”

“Hey Gwil, how you holding up?” he let out a sigh.

“As best as I can. Though I should be asking you that, you are the one really dealing with this whole Coronavirus adjustment than I am. How’d you do on your classes?”

“For those that have said online classes are easier, they’re dirty rotten liars and completely incompetent.” He softly chuckled. “But thankfully I finished my last exam paper and submitted it just now.”

“Your dad look over it for you? Cause I know you’re a terrible editor.”

“Oi not all the time. Just when I’m lazy.” He hummed as he raised his brow at me. “But yes I did have dad review it for me. Cause before we got to submit the rough draft and my professor said I needed more analysis to my quotes on why I quoted that specific source. God I don’t know why I took that class to begin with?”

“Because you’re a criminology nut and you have been since you turned 16. God and I thought my horror movie tastes were bad.”

“Hey it’s good to be aware of shit like that!”

“Language missy!”

“Okay Cap.” I teased.  He gave me his stern look which made me laugh as I fell to my side on the bed. “Oh by the way I saw that little dating app video you did.”

“And what did you think?”

“I liked it. Kinda makes me wish an app like that did exist in real life.”

“You not just pulling my leg on this?”

“No. Honest and swear to god you had me moved by your performance. Well next to you being Brian May of course.” He grinned. “I swear I still can’t get over when I first saw you in the full hair and makeup, I literally almost had a freakin panic attack.”

“And the fact that Brian was also there to witness that.”

“Oh god don’t even go there!” I groaned as I hid my face in embarrassment.

“So—now that you’re all done with school, what’s next for you?”

“Well any plans I had are put on hold till this whole crisis goes away. And I really thought 2020 was gonna be my year. This sucks!”

“I know poppet, I know. But believe me that it’s not just you whose affected by this. Everyone in the whole world is suffering exactly the same way you are.” I sighed solemnly.

“I know. I mean I should be feeling for you and the guys right now, I mean all of you are out of work till further notice. And all the restaurants that I love going to. Did you know that the little ice cream parlor you and I used to go to when we were kids shut down?”

“No!”

“Yeah, the owner couldn’t keep up the payments because hardly anyone was ordering from them anymore, even with online delivery. So she closed it down.”

“Damn, that sucks. I really loved going to that place with you. That was always our special little time together without the grownups around.” I nodded remembering all the fun times we had together in that little shop.

It was then someone suddenly popped into our conversation.  The extra person now on my screen was none other than Joe Mazzello.

“Hey Gwil, mini-Lee!”

“Hello Joe.” Answered Gwil.

“Hey Joe been a long time.”

“How you two holding up?” he asked us.

“As best as we can, how about you? I’ve seen those Youtube videos you’ve been doing on your page.” Gwil said.

“You know those were jokes, especially that last one. I just wanted to get a laugh out of everyone, or have them hate me.”

“No one could hate you Joey.” I said with a smile.

“Aww thanks mini-Lee. How’s classes been?” I let out a groan as I once again flopped on my bed which made Joe laugh.

“I am just thankful that this is all over. At first I thought online classes would be easy but one of my professors was technology challenged. Another one would sometimes forget to do a lesson, and then of course blackboard could barely operate long enough for me to submit an assignment which caused some of them to be late.”

“Well like you said it’s over now.” Joe assured me.

“Oh hey I saw that Jurassic Park livestream you did.”

“Oh did you? How come I didn’t see you submit a question or just say hello? I’ve seen your Youtube page so I know your username by heart.”

“Cause I may or may not have also been working on a project. But chose the livestream over the project.”

“Nice going Joe, you’ve turned my cousin into a procrastinator.” Gwil complained.

“Hey at least she has Jurassic Park unlike you Gwilym Lee! Serious shame on you for not owning it! This is why mini-Lee is the coolest out of the two of you.” I snarked out a mock laugh as I stuck my tongue out.

“Ganging up against me okay I see how it is you two.”

“Oh come now cousin dear, we’re just messing around.”

“Messing around? If we’re messing with Gwil then I want a part of it.” Soon another picture came up and there lying on his side was Ben Hardy.

“Benjamin!” Joe screamed joyously.

“Hi Ben.” I sung out.

“Hey (y/n).” he waved at me with a wink. “Now going back to teasing Gwilym.”

“You guys are officially gonna be blocked right after this.” My cousin groaned.  We all laughed when I told him.

“Again cousin, we’re teasing you. So Ben, what brings you here?”

“What can’t I pop in and say hello?” I giggled.

“I see nothing wrong with it. Oh hey get this; I finally got around to watching 6 Underground.”

“And what did you think of it?”

“The first 10 minutes were insane! And truthfully I never really understood Michael Bay films, but this one—definitely my favorite. I loved it Ben, really.”

“Well thank you (n/n). Thank you.”

“Never did I think I needed to see both you and Ryan Reynolds on screen together….”

“Whoa okay easy there (n/n)!” Joe interrupted me.

“Oi you get your mind out of the gutters! And you say it’s the fans that make what you say to the extreme.” I scowled him.

“Trust me, I’ve known him for over 10 years and he still doesn’t grow up.” Another voice stated and soon two more familiar faces popped up on screen, stuck in quarantine together in LA were Rami and Lucy. And then a split second later another face came on the screen, it was none other than Alan Leech.

“Hey, Rami, Lu-lu, Alan!” I cheered.

“Hey (y/n)!” the three of them said as they waved.

“God I feel like I’m getting spoiled, got the entire BoRhap family together for the first time in like—forever.”

“It’s crazy.” Alan said.

“Definitely.” Agreed Rami.

“Maybe when this whole thing blows over we should all get together some time in New York.” Offered Joe.

“I’m down with it.” Ben said.

“Me too.” Lucy agreed with a nod.

“Yeah, (n/n), Ben and I could fly out together.” Said Gwil.

“I’m down with that. Now that I’m done with school, I can do what I want now.”

“So guys now that we’re all here shall we begin?” Lucy said.

“Begin what? Gwil what’s going on?” I asked.

“Well (n/n), when this whole quarantine shutdown and school cancellations started affecting the class of 2020 we all felt bad that you couldn’t graduate the way you hoped you would.” Gwil said before Joe continued.

“So Gwil called all of us up via the Whatsapp chat, as well as our daily zoom calls. To gather us all together on your ‘last day’ of college.”

“To celebrate your own Virtual college graduation party!” Rami cheered.  At that point everyone either threw confetti, blew on graduation blowers, or holding up signs that said CONGRATS 2020 GRADUATE!!!

I covered my mouth with my hands speechless and tried to hold back the tears.

“Ohh you guys.”

“Since you couldn’t have a college graduation party, we figure we’d bring the party to you. See not even this pandemic can stop us from celebrating our Mini-Lee’s ultimate milestone.” Ben said as he set down his congrats sign.

“And also expect some gifts within the next few weeks, depending on how the mailing services do with overseas gifts.” Alan said.

“Aww thanks you guys, you didn’t have to.”

“We know, but we wanted to. Let us spoil you even through this pandemic.” Said Joe.

“Thanks guys, this—really means a lot to me.” I wiped a hidden tear that strayed down the corner of my eye.  They all awed at me that’s when Gwil lifted up a small graduation cake.

“I know, I know this’ll be ridiculous but just humor me will yah?” I smiled and nodded.  He lit up the 2020 candles and held it just high enough for me to see the top part of the candles.

“CONGRATS (Y/N) LEE! CLASS OF 2020!!!” everyone proclaimed at once which made me smile and I blew out towards the screen.  Gwil then blew out the candles for me as everyone else cheered and clapped.

“Thanks so much you guys. Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“We’re happy to do it (y/n). If it makes your day a little bit brighter in these dark times.” Rami said.

“It did Rami, it really did.”

“Well hope we can make this even better cause I’ve also got a part 2 to this little surprise. But in order for that to happen, everyone else has got to go otherwise you won’t really be able to see it as clearly.” Gwil said.

“Aww man.” I whined.

“No worries mini-Lee, your cousin added you to our BoRhap Whatsapp chat and I’ll send you a link to our zoom channel if you ever wanna chat with us again.” Joe said with a wink.

“Thanks Joe. And thanks everyone take care and stay safe.” They all waved and bid me goodbye with waves or blowing kisses at me and one by one they signed off till it was once again just Gwil and I.

All I could see across his bearded face was that cheeky grin he does whenever he’s trying to hide something.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Just the fact that I’ll be the best cousin once you see part 2 of your special surprise.”

“What did you do?”

“If I told you it won’t be a surprise now would it? Now let’s see, god I hope they get it.” He muttered the last part to himself. It took a few minutes till finally another screen popped up and standing there in his room was Adam Lambert.  I fangirled in my seat and covered my mouth trying to contain my squeals.

“Hey girlfriend!” he greeted with a wave.

“Adam oh my god!”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s been going. Finally submitted my last paper. So I’m officially done with school forever.”

“Yaas Queen!” he snapped. “So how’s it feel to be a college graduate?”

“Well it’d be better if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic.”

“Understandable, but hey you’ve worked hard for this so be proud of yourself no matter what’s going on in the world right now.” I nodded with a shrug. “And to celebrate your graduation, your cousin whipped up another little surprise for you.”

“Oh my god Gwil you didn’t!” I gasped.  He merely raised a brow at me cheekily as he bit his lip back from a smile.

“Hey guys you there?!” Adam called out and soon enough two more screens came on and the picture revealed to be both Brian May and Roger Taylor.  Brian sitting on his couch while Roger looked to be in his basement with his drumkit.

At this point, I had lost my shit.  I was fangirling to the max at this rate but tried to calm down.

“Hi (y/n), congratulations of graduating.” Brian greeted me.

“Major achievement there love. Congrats.” Roger added.

“Oh my god…..Gwil this is—how……”

“I knew you’d love it (n/n). Plus I knew this would cheer you up after our last conversation we had last week. You really needed some cheering up.”

“So guys are we ready to do this?” asked Adam.

“I’m ready to go if you both are.” Said Brian as he took his Red Special and set it on his lap and Roger twirled his drumstick.

“(Y/n), this is for you love. Hopefully when this whole mess is over, you can finally go out there and reach your dream job. Till then we hope you enjoy this.” Roger said.

It was then both Roger and Brian began playing the tune for ‘we are the champions’ but as Adam began singing the song, it turns out that they were actually singing their new song, ‘You are the champions’ dedicated to the first responders worldwide.

But now they were playing it in my honor as a college graduate.  As they continued to play the song, I allowed the tears to flow down my face as I laced my hand over my heart.

God—never did I think that through this pandemic would I be happy.  From having to never see any of my friends I made in college again, to not having my whole family come to the house to celebrate, or going out to party with some of my friends.  But this—right here and now, my cousin made it all up to me all the way from London.

At this point, I knew that I was officially the luckiest person in the world.  All thanks to my favorite cousin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Believe or Leave

AU-gust Day Thirteen: Rock Band AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Rumbelle

Rated: T

Summary: Belle is over the moon when she discovers that her favourite band is getting back together again for a final tour, and her life takes an interesting turn when she realises that one of the band’s reclusive members, Rum Gold, has been hiding out in her hometown.

Note: This fic is much, much longer than the other AU-gust fics as I’ve been working on it for a long time. It happened to fit this prompt so nicely, so I decided to press on and finally finish it.

Inspired by the concept of ‘Believe or Leave: The Magical Boyband’, which I am sure has been floating around the OUAT fandom for many a year since S2Ep5 aired.

Believe or Leave

If Belle was alarmed when Ariel raced into the library and skidded to a stop in front of the issue desk just before she careened into it, then she didn’t show it. This sort of behaviour was normal for Ariel. She did not visit the library very often, but when she did, it was usually in a state of high excitement or extreme temper. 

Thankfully, this was one of the former occasions. Ariel was grinning from ear to ear and waving her phone around her head as if it was the discovery of the century, or she’d just used it to win a fortune. Considering the amount of prize-winning apps that she was signed up to, Belle wouldn’t have put it past her. 

“Guess who’s about to make you the happiest person in the whole entire world?” she squealed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as Belle switched on the ancient library computer, having to smack the monitor several times to get it to show a clear picture rather than one with pink and green lines going across it. 

“Let me guess. You’ve won three million on that ridiculous pinata bingo app and you’re giving it all to me to refit the library with state-of-the-art computer equipment?” With a final, particularly violent, wallop, the screen sorted itself out and Belle gave a sigh of satisfaction, settling herself in her seat and logging on. 

Ariel just rolled her eyes. 

“No, although I promise that if I ever do win three million, you will not be calling my pinata bingo app ridiculous, and I will certainly give you some of it to get a new computer. I have other good news. Far better news than that.”

Considering the state of the library’s ancient infrastructure, Belle didn’t think that anything could be better news than the funds for a complete refit, but she knew that her and Ariel’s priorities were not the same and she said nothing.

“Here.” Ariel tapped her phone and handed it over, showing one of the celebrity gossip sites that she subscribed to. “That ought to put a smile on your face and send all thoughts of malfunctioning computer equipment to the back of your mind for the next ten minutes at least.”

Belle read the article. Then she read it again. Then she stared at the headline for a good three minutes without speaking. Possibly without even breathing.

Believe or Leave to reform for official farewell tour. 

Believe or Leave had formed a fundamental part of Belle’s college years. She had gone to every concert she could afford to get to. Their music had been the soundtrack to her exams, her graduation, and the frantic job-hunting afterwards. Belle had always been more enamoured with them than Ariel had, but true to form, her friend had gone along with her strange obsession with the band and had dutifully replied to all of Belle’s incoherent messages of despair and rage when they had suddenly broken up seven years ago, all three members going their separate ways, with two of them going on to moderately successful solo careers and one vanishing into obscurity. 

Belle had kept up with Jefferson Milliner and Vic Whale, but she had always privately been of the opinion that they were stronger together than they were on their own, and that the strongest element of the band was the one that no-one had heard of for years, the elusive Rum Gold. 

Jefferson Milliner and Vic Whale of Believe or Leave team up for farewell tour seven years after band’s unceremonious split… “This is not a reunion, but after Believe or Leave left the music scene so suddenly, we finally wanted to give the fans some closure…” When asked if Rum Gold would be joining them, Milliner remained tight-lipped. “We’d love it if he were to come back, and we’ve tried to get in touch with him. Never say never,”

“Belle? Earth to Belle?” Ariel gently took her phone back out of Belle’s grip and waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh dear. I’ve blown her brains out with the news. The library will have to remain closed today. Belle’s in a boy-band induced stupor.”

“They’re not a boy-band,” Belle muttered. “They’re a man-band.”

Ariel grinned. “I knew that would snap you out of it. So, are you happy? Or are you still too gobsmacked to feel any kind of functional emotion?”

Belle nodded, which she knew wasn’t the correct way to answer an either-or question. 

“That’s… wow.”

“I know that however much you might protest, you’ve never got over your love for them.”

It was true. Belle still had all her ticket stubs from their concerts, and she still had all her worn-out CDs of every album they’d released, as well as all of the tracks digitally. They were a comfort, a reminder of a time that seemed so long ago when she’d been young and somewhat more carefree than she was at the moment. Back when she hadn’t needed to worry about library computers dying and possibly taking out the power grid to the entire town. 

“It’s a shame that they haven’t been able to get back in touch with Rum,” Ariel said. “You know that he’s supposed to live locally, right?”

Of course Belle knew. When the opportunity to work in Storybrooke had come up, she had jumped at the chance, knowing that it was the place where Believe or Leave had been born, three young men in a garden shed in a backwater Maine town making music. It was that whimsical connection to the band that had kept her here even when she knew that there would be positions in Boston or even Augusta that would pay better and have infinitely better equipment than the things she was forced to use in her position here. Even after the break-up, she’d become so used to life in a small town that she didn’t really want to return to Boston. It felt like giving up, in a way. 

Believe or Leave hadn’t stayed in Storybrooke, of course. Once fame and fortune had found them, they’d moved out to Boston, then to New York, then out to Los Angeles. Vic and Jefferson had stayed out in California, but rumour had it that Rum had returned to his roots. 

Belle wasn’t sure how much truth there was in the rumours. Storybrooke was not all that large a town, and she was certain that she would have tripped over him before now. Then again, sometimes it was difficult to recognise people in settings that were unfamiliar. She was used to seeing him from a huge distance on stage or airbrushed and touched up in magazines. She was not used to seeing him in the supermarket or the drugstore, so it was perfectly possible that she’d just missed him all the time. He was reclusive anyway, and he had always been the one to shy away from the press even back when he’d been with the band. Jefferson had always happy to take on the limelight and the interviews for the three of them, whilst Rum and Vic had stayed in the back. Whilst they had been on stage, their personalities had always been larger than life, but away from an audience, it was clear that for Rum at least, the stage persona was just that. 

“I’ve lost you for the rest of the day now, haven’t I?” Ariel said sagely. “Never mind.” She leaned back against the issue desk, staring out into the middle distance in the same direction as Belle. “I wonder if they’ll still wear the leather trousers.”

Belle felt a flush rise in her cheeks at the mention of the leather trousers that the band had been famous for in their heyday. They certainly hadn’t left much to the imagination and Belle had fallen into many a less than innocent daydream regarding what might be under them.

Thankfully, it was at that moment that a woman with a gaggle of under-fives came into the library and made their way in the direction of the children’s section, and Belle was reminded that she did have a job to do and that story time would be commencing in fifteen minutes. Seeing that Belle was back in the land of the living, Ariel took this as her cue to leave. 

“I’m sure that we can discuss this in depth at a later date,” she said. “I’ll bring the wine over tonight and we can go all nostalgic for your college days whilst you daydream about Rum Gold’s accent and speculate on whether he really is here in Storybrooke shut up in a cabin somewhere.”

“I highly doubt that he’s shut up in a cabin,” Belle began to protest, but Ariel was already halfway out of the library, waving behind her. 

Belle took a moment to compose herself before she went over to gather picture books ready for story time, resolving to think no more about the Believe or Leave reunion until the allotted time at the end of the day with Ariel. It was hard going though, and more than once throughout the day she found herself wandering off into flights of fancy. 

Maybe if the band’s break-up and the reasons behind it had been more publicised at the time, there would not be so much to think about. If the rifts between the band members had made tabloid headline news at the time, then everyone would know the whys and wherefores. As it was, everything had been so sudden and quiet. One day everything was fine, and the band was going about its business, getting ready to release a new album in a few months’ time. All their fans had been eagerly awaiting their next tour dates. 

And then, one morning, they announced that they were disbanding with immediate effect, and that was that. 

Privately, Belle thought that when it came down to it, Rum was the reason for the split. He’d always been closely guarded, not wanting to bring his family into the limelight, and given his almost total disappearance after they’d gone their separate ways, she assumed that it was something personal to him. There didn’t seem to be any active animosity between the remaining band members. It was all just one of those great unsolved mysteries of the entertainment world. Maybe with this reunion tour, more truths would come out. It would be wonderful if all three of them could get back together, but after years of radio silence from Rum, she wasn’t holding out much hope. 

X

Things happened very quickly after that, and afterwards, when all was said and done and Belle was reflecting on the events of those few months after the farewell tour was announced, she wasn’t sure what it was that kickstarted everything. Certainly, the news that Ariel had brought her that morning was a catalyst, but she liked to think that perhaps providence had had a hand in there somewhere as well. 

It was two days since Ariel’s dramatic entrance into the library and the revelations that had entailed from it, and Belle had spent most of that time constantly checking her phone to see if tickets for the tour had been released yet. Considering it had only just been announced, it was unlikely, but she was nothing if not optimistic. 

Belle was in the store. There was nothing particularly special about the day, nor the store. It was Storybrooke’s only supermarket, and it could barely be called that. There was nothing particularly special about the shopping trip itself; she’d run out of a lot of food items and needed to restock. The only thing that was different about this week’s shop as opposed to any other was that she had made sure that Believe or Leave was playing on her earphones as she went around filling her basket, and Rum Gold’s voice was crooning at her at the exact moment that she saw the man himself. 

Perhaps if she hadn’t been listening to his voice, she wouldn’t have noticed him. She probably wouldn’t have recognised him, because when one thinks about meeting famous people, one doesn’t tend to think about running into them in grocery stores. Even so, Belle had to give an inward snort at her and Ariel’s conversation. It seemed that Rum had been living under their noses all this time without them realising after all. 

The more she looked at him, the more she became convinced. He looked a far cry from the person he had been when she had last seen him on stage years ago. He was wearing jeans rather than leather for a start. Belle was quite glad of that; she didn’t think that she would have been able to function if she’d seen him in the flesh in leather. He was older - obviously; everyone was older - and there was grey in his hair now, and in the beard that had grown in the intervening time. 

Still just as handsome as he had been in his heyday. Perhaps more so, even. Belle had grown to appreciate the appearance of maturity in a man.

She was horribly aware that she was staring at him, and even more horribly aware that he knew she was staring at him and was staring steadily back. There was a challenge in his dark eyes, daring her to say something and expose his identity to the rest of the store. Not that Belle thought that the rest of the store would be particularly interested in his identity; as far as she knew, she and Ariel were the only two people in the town with a vested interest in Believe or Leave, and Ariel only kept up with them because of Belle. 

She tore her gaze away and looked very intently at the meagre selection of tea on offer. Ever since she’d moved to Storybrooke, she’d been buying her tea online, subscribing to various different sites that gave her a wide and exotic selection to choose from. Ariel had always laughed at her for it, telling her to stop being so pretentious because it was only tea for heaven’s sake, just brew up a cup and be done with it. Still, Belle wasn’t really looking at the tea, nor was she thinking about the different blends waiting for her at home rather than the generic brand black teabags here on the shelf that always tasted of paper and sawdust. Nevertheless, she put a box in her basket to show willing and try to distance herself from the somewhat embarrassing situation that was unfolding. 

It was only now that she recognised him that she realised she’d seen him around town more than she remembered. Never regularly, just here and there, but enough for him to have made an impression on her memory. She’d been so close to him all this time and never known. 

She thought that she could be forgiven for not recognising him at first glance given the beard and glasses. It was probably only because she’d had Believe or Leave on the brain for the last two days that she recognised him at all. Last night she’d gone through all her old albums, looking at the sleeves and reading the spiel there. It had been an excellent nostalgia trip and it had reawakened her love for the group, as well as bringing Rum Gold to the forefront of her mind and keeping him there. 

And now, of course, she had just engaged in a veritable staring competition with him and was now buying horrible tea in an effort to pretend that she hadn’t been. She glanced up but he had moved away from the end of the stack and was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief, she put the tea back on the shelf and went to pay, ignoring the fact that she still had several items on her list still to buy and just wanting to get out of the store and the scene of her embarrassment as soon as possible. Once outside, with the fresh air clearing her head, she gave a groan, leaning back against the wall of the store and pulling out her phone to message Ariel. 

Kill me now.

Ariel’s response was almost immediate; it was good to know that her best friend was practically glued to her phone and could always be relied upon for a quick reply at any time of the day or night. 

What have you done now?

I met Rum Gold in the store. 

You’re kidding me. 

I am not.

At that point, her phone rang, Ariel evidently having deemed it quicker to speak in person to react to this momentous news. 

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

“There’s really nothing to tell. I just recognised him, that’s all. Out of all the other times that I’ve seen this random man in the store, today he wasn’t so random after all. And then he caught me staring so I had to leave without buying any cookies. I was mortified.”

“Good for your waistline, I suppose, but not so good for helping with the mortification. You should have asked him if he was going to join the Believe or Leave tour! Honestly, Belle, I love you but you’re a walking, talking missed opportunity sometimes.”

“You can’t just go up to someone who’s minding their own business buying groceries and start talking about their former career! I already look like a crazy stalker!” 

She tailed off as Gold himself rounded the corner towards the parking lot, coming straight past her.

“Belle? Belle? Are you still there or are you off in fantasies of dipping Rum Gold in chocolate sauce?”

Belle just groaned. She hadn’t thought that her humiliation could be more complete, but life was evidently thinking up ways to continually surprise her. 

“Belle! Belle? Belle!” Ariel was practically shouting down the phone at her now. Gold had stopped in his tracks and was staring at her again. At least this time, the staring was on him. Belle was very pointedly looking at her shoes. “Belle, stop daydreaming and talk to me!”

“Ariel, just kill me now,” she muttered. 

To her immense surprise and somewhat relief, Gold just chuckled, taking his bags over to the old Cadillac in the corner of the lot and driving away, leaving Belle standing in the shade behind the store with Ariel still squawking indignantly in her ear. 

Had that really just happened? Was this all a dream? Had she fallen into some kind of parallel dimension whereby a man she saw in town every now and then had metamorphosed in her mind into a famous ex-rock star?

She said her goodbyes to Ariel and hung up, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall once again. Maybe once she opened them again, everything would have been put to rights and the last few minutes would not have happened. 

X

Belle had just about managed to put her grocery store mortification to the back of her mind and was trying very hard to forget that Rum Gold even existed, let alone that he appeared to have lived in the same town as her for several years without her noticing. 

Unfortunately, fate had decided that she was going to be reminded of it all rather forcibly and rather sooner than she expected. It was the day after her revelation and Belle was sitting behind the issue desk in the library, half concentrating on her book and half keeping an eye on the gaggle of giggling teenagers who’d gathered in the Harlequin romance section. She didn’t pay it much mind when the door opened and someone came in. People didn’t often come straight up to the issue desk when they entered. If they were in a hurry to return items then they used the dropbox outside, otherwise they went off into the stacks to browse. Belle was therefore rather surprised when the figure came up to her, especially since he didn’t appear to have any books to return. 

She recognised him just a moment later and she felt her face flush with embarrassment as she remembered the previous day. Still, she was a professional, as much as she might want to slide out of her chair and slither under the desk out of sight. 

“Welcome to Storybrooke Library,” she said, far too brightly even for her, and Ariel had described her as a walking ray of sunshine once. “How can I help you?”

“Erm…” Unless she was very much mistaken, Rum was looking just as embarrassed as she felt. “I just wanted to apologise. I overheard your conversation with your friend outside the store yesterday and I think I’m the reason you didn’t get your cookies yesterday. And now I’ve just admitted to overhearing private conversations and acting on them, which is probably worse. Just… Here you go.” He held out a pack of Oreos. Belle stared at it for a moment, feeling like she’d suddenly stumbled into a parallel universe in which nothing made sense. Finally, she took the packet and stowed it in her desk drawer. As happy as she was to have her cookies after all, she was still reeling. 

“Thank you,” she said, eventually remembering her manners. “How did you know where to find me?”

Rum shrugged. “You’re not the only one who remembers seeing faces around.” There was a long, screamingly awkward pause, and Belle still wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t dreaming, and that this was actually the same dream as the one in the grocery store. She was talking to Rum Gold, her favourite musician, the man she’d had a crush on for so many years; and she knew now he was standing in front of her, she still had a crush on him. 

Rum suddenly spoke. “You know, I’ve been living here for six years and you’re the first person who’s ever recognised me.” He paused. “At least, I think you are. Perhaps everyone else in town knows my identity and I just haven’t noticed.”

Belle grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s the beard,” Belle said. “It throws everyone else off.” She cringed inwardly as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but Rum just gave a soft chuckle. 

“Yeah, that must be it.” 

“Ok, in all honesty, I’ve had the Believe or Leave farewell tour on the brain for the last couple of days. You were at the forefront of my mind anyway.”

Rum nodded, but something in his expression had become grave at the mention of the band. As desperately as Belle wanted to know what was going on, she knew that it wasn’t her place to pry. Rum had been living here incognito for years, and evidently wanted to keep it that way.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the cookies,” he said, after a few more moments of staring at each other. 

“I will, thank you.” With that he was gone, walking out of her life again as quickly as he’d entered it. Still stunned, Belle reached for her phone, intending to apprise Ariel of the latest developments, but something stopped her. If it wasn’t for the very real cookies, she’d be convinced she’d nodded off with her head on the desk, and she wanted to keep this meeting to herself for a little while. She doubted that she was the only person in town who’d recognised Rum during his time here, but she’d been the only one to be so overt about it. Either way, there was an understanding between them now, and she didn’t want to break that bond by relaying everything to a third party, even one whom she trusted with her life like Ariel. 

No, for now, this conversation would be her little secret.

X

Belle knew that there had to be some kind of psychological phenomenon whereby once your attention had been drawn to something, you started to notice it all the time, seeing it more often even if it wasn't around any more often than it was before. Whatever the phenomenon was, she was experiencing it now with Rum Gold. Since seeing him in the grocery store and his subsequent cookie delivery trip to the library, it felt like she was spotting him all over the place - in the pharmacy, getting take-out from the diner, just walking down the street. Logically she knew that he probably wasn't out and about any more frequently than he used to be, but now that she had recognised him, she recognised him everywhere.

She shook her head crossly. There wasn't exactly a lot that she could do about seeing him so frequently. They did live in the same town, after all. She shouldn't be reading anything into it and she definitely shouldn't be wondering what would happen if their paths were to cross again. She'd managed to get through her life in Storybrooke thus far without knowing that Rum was living among them, surely she could continue her life as it was before her blissful ignorance had been shattered. If Rum was trying to live here incognito and she was the only person who had overtly recognised him, then he probably wouldn't take too kindly to her bumping into him again.

All the same, she couldn't help thinking back to the cookies. He'd been under no obligation to do that, and yet he'd still sought her out. He had noticed her in the same way that she had noticed him. It felt like they were sharing a secret in a way, the two of them possessed of knowledge forbidden to the rest of the town.

Belle was determined nevertheless not to think any more on the subject. It was just one of life's coincidences, that was all. Her resolve in this matter lasted all of four hours until she went to the diner for her lunch that day and recognised Rum's Cadillac in the parking lot. She stopped short and groaned. How was this fair? She couldn't forget about the whole thing if she kept bumping into him.

Belle steeled herself and squared her shoulders, walking towards the diner with purpose. She had just as much right to be here as anyone else and she wasn't going to let avoidance get in the way of getting her lunch. 

She entered the diner and walked up to the take-out counter, placing her order with Ruby and beginning to hang around. Rum was there too beside her, waiting for his order, and Belle kept glancing sideways at him. Should she say something? Should she not? Would it be best to pretend that she hadn’t seen him? If she said something now, would be it weird that she’d left it so long before saying anything? Was he going to say anything? How could she tell if he wanted her to ignore him or not?

Rum saved her from her spiralling train of thought. 

“Hello again. It seems like we’re destined to keep running into each other.”

“Yeah. Suddenly you’re everywhere. I mean, I keep seeing you everywhere, not that you literally are everywhere at once. And I’m sure that you’re not everywhere any more than you were before, I just…” Belle trailed off on seeing Rum’s amused little smile, feeling her face flush. “I’ll stop talking now.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve been thinking along the same lines myself now that I keep seeing you everywhere, although probably no more frequently than I saw you before.”

Granny brought his order out at that point and he turned to leave. 

“Well, I guess I’ll keep seeing you around. Till next time.”

It was such a simple and subtle sentence, and yet with it, a certain level of permission had been given. They were acquaintances now; they could stop and say hello to each other on the occasions that they met. Belle smiled as she continued to wait for her sandwich. She wasn’t going to go out of her way to meet him, but at the same time, she wasn’t going to have to avoid him either. She could just go about her daily life, and the times when they did meet would not be awkward. 

They saw each other a couple of times over the next couple of weeks, never to speak to, but enough to exchange a smile and nod. It was getting to the stage where Belle could predict his routine, and no doubt he could predict hers as well. She kept forgetting that the recognition went both ways, perhaps because she had never been famous and considered herself practically unrecognisable when compared with Rum.  

They were back in the diner when they got the chance to speak again, just making general small talk. Granny looked at them shrewdly as she brought the take-out orders out. 

“You know, if you two want to continue the conversation then there’s space at the counter.”

“Oh no, no, it’s ok.” They were both speaking at the same time and Granny just looked at them with a raised eyebrow. She nodded towards the counter.

“Go and sit down. I’ll bring you some plates.”

Cowed by Granny’s force, they went over to the counter and took their seats. For a few minutes, the conversation was awkward and stilted, but once the plates had arrived, everything seemed to fall into place. They were just two people with a mutual interest in each other, getting to know each other over lunch. Although before Belle had worried about being starstruck, now that she was here with Rum in such mundane circumstances, those fears melted away. They unconsciously steered away from the topics that would bring them back into the dichotomy of famous person and fan, and it could have been any other first date.

Was it a date?

The conversation continued until Belle checked her watch and sighed. “I have to go; I need to open the library up again, but it’s been nice talking to you.” She paused. “Maybe we could do it again?”

Rum nodded. “Yes, it’s been great. I’d like to do it again. Same time on Friday?”

Belle smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

X

“You know, when Ariel suggested that you’d been shut up in a cabin here in Storybrooke ever since the band broke up, I didn’t believe her.”

Rum just laughed, bringing a cup of tea over to Belle as she gazed at his wall of memorabilia and accolades, taking everything in.

They had been going out for a few weeks; it was the first time that she had come to Rum’s home, and she had been forced to eat her earlier words to Ariel of a few months ago when she had followed the GPS to his address and had discovered that he did in fact live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, out by the river – and he had been living there for some time by the looks of things.

“I wanted the solitude,” he said. “I figured that it was less likely that people would recognise me if I was only in the town for buying essentials rather than living in the centre.”

“I guess we kind of ruined that when we started dating,” Belle said. “Although, I can’t really bring myself to be sorry about that.”

“No, me neither.” Rum smiled, taking a sip of his own tea. “I’d far rather that I’d met you and got to know you than I’d stayed shut up out here for the rest of my days.”

“That means an awful lot, you know, considering just how much of a recluse you’ve been.” Belle paused. So far during their dating life, they had never really talked about the band, as much as Belle had wanted to delve further into it, it was clear that it belonged to a past that Rum wanted to put behind him. They had focussed on the present instead, on the people that they were now and where their current interests lay, which made a lot more sense. They were dating each other, not their selves from ten years ago at the height of the band’s fame. It would not do to get hung up on the image of a man that no longer existed. Once Belle had got to know him, she had found that she liked the real Rum Gold far more than she had ever liked the stage persona she had known before, and her attraction to him based on qualities other than the aesthetic and his singing abilities had grown tenfold.

Now though, being in his home and seeing all the evidence of his past life here on display rather than hidden away, Belle was beginning to wonder whether the band wasn’t quite such as taboo a topic as she had always thought it was. It was clear that Rum’s life was still very much dominated by music. There was evidence of it everywhere in the cabin, and the staved paper on the small piano in the corner showed that he was still writing songs even now.

“Rum…”

“Yes, Belle?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I feel I need to ask because music is clearly still such a large part of your life even since the band broke up… Why did the band break up?”

Rum sighed, and he didn’t answer for a long time, going over to the dresser and taking up a photo frame, staring at it for a long time before bringing it back over to Belle.

“I lost my son,” he said eventually. “It happened very suddenly, and in that moment, it felt like my life was over too. Everything just ground to a halt. I couldn’t fathom a way to continue doing what I’d been doing after I lost Bae. Just taking a break whilst I could work through my grief wasn’t going to cut it. I needed to cut the ties completely. All things considered, Vic and Jeff were very understanding about the whole thing.”

“I’m so sorry.” Belle reached out and took Rum’s free hand, squeezing tightly. “Have you really been alone for all this time then?”

Rum nodded. “Until I started getting to know you, of course.” He gave another long sigh. “By the time I was ready to start getting my life back on track, the bridges had been burned, you know. There was no going back, not after I’d left so suddenly. And we’d all grown up and grown older and grown apart since then.”

It was a sudden realisation. More than music simply still being a part of Rum’s life and him still being proud of the achievements he’d made with the band, he was actively missing those days.

“Have you spoken to either of them at all since you went your separate ways?” Belle asked.

Rum shook his head. “I didn’t want to muddy the waters. They both went on to successful solo careers after all, and I just faded into obscurity, holing up here like a recluse and living off my royalties. They probably didn’t want to be reminded of the past.”

“Rum, you know that they’ve just announced a new tour,” Belle pointed out gently. “They definitely do want to be reminded of the past, and Jefferson’s said in interviews that he would love for you to come back.”

“I know.”

“So… What have you got to lose?”

Rum shook his head. “I don’t know, Belle. It’s been so long. You know that feeling when you procrastinate doing something, but then it gets to the stage that you’ve procrastinated it for so long that it’s even more difficult to start, so you just keep on procrastinating it until it becomes a vicious cycle?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, I know that feeling only too well. But you have to break out of the circle and bite the bullet sooner rather than later. Don’t you think that you might as well do it and see what they say, rather than keep putting it off and it becoming ever more awkward. It’s not going to get any easier. These things never do. I think we both know that from experience.”

Rum nodded. “I know. It’ll just get the stage where it’s impossible. If it isn’t already.”

“Nothing is impossible when you put your mind to it,” Belle said. “And whatever happens, I’m right here with you. I’ve got your back, and you can blame me if it all goes wrong.”

Rum gave a snort of laughter. “I’m holding you to that, although I think when it comes down to it, I could never blame you for anything.”

“Oh, I may look like butter wouldn’t melt, but Ariel will tell you that there’s a dark horse in here.” Belle realised the connotations of what she’d said and blushed. “Sorry, that came out way dirtier than I intended it to.”

Rum just laughed. “Oh Belle. I’m so glad that I met you.”

No matter what might happen with the rest of the band, Belle was very glad that she had met Rum, too.

X

Belle was surprised when she turned onto the track that led up towards Rum’s cabin, because for the first time, there were other cars parked up outside the house. For a long time, she sat in the middle of the track with the engine idling, wondering whether she should continue now that she knew Rum had company. Logic told her that she should have called ahead and asked if he was free, but she had been dating Rum for long enough now to know that he rarely looked at his phone if he was in the middle of composing, and he had always welcomed her impromptu visits before. Besides, he hardly ever went anywhere so she was almost guaranteed to find him at home whenever she turned up on the doorstep. 

She had become so used to his solitary, reclusive lifestyle, only marginally less reclusive now that she was in it, that the notion of his having other visitors simply hadn’t crossed her mind. 

Belle wondered who it could be; she knew that Rum had no family to speak of. Before she could think any more on it, her phone began to ring. Grabbing it, she saw that Rum was the caller and she groaned; he had obviously noticed her lurking outside. 

“Hi Rum.”

“Hi yourself. You know, you’re going to waste a lot of gas just idling in the lane like that. Why don’t you keep driving forwards and come into the house?”

“You’ve got guests,” Belle pointed out, although Rum knew that he had guests, so she wasn’t sure why she said it. 

“I do, and I would like to introduce you to my friends.”

Belle’s heart turned a somersault. Could it be?

“I’ll be right in.”

The front door opened as she pulled up outside, and Rum greeted her with a smile.

“I can see you’re stunned,” he said. “I know, it’s amazing. I do actually know other people.” He kissed her cheek softly as he took her coat, before leading her through to where the guests were sitting in front of the empty fireplace, watching her with interest. Two of the faces were immediately familiar. 

“Belle, this is Vic Whale and Jefferson Milliner, and Jefferson’s boyfriend Graham. Everyone, this is Belle.”

“So, you must be the one we need to thank for getting the band back together,” Jefferson said. “Quite literally in fact.” He jumped up out of his chair and bounded across to Belle, throwing his arms around her. “Thank you so much. I’m glad that someone was able to get into his thick skull.”

Belle looked at Rum, who was looking slightly sheepish.

“I just took your advice,” he said. “And everything worked out well, as you can see.”

“I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”

“That’s the last time I don’t listen to you.”

Belle just smiled, and after Jefferson finally released her from his bear hug, she slipped an arm around Rum’s waist. “Ah, but you did listen to me in the end, and that’s what matters.”

The next few hours would definitely count among the most memorable of Belle’s life, watching Rum, Jefferson and Vic interact, reminiscing about old times and discussing plans for the tour now that Rum had decided to be a part of it. She felt very honoured to be in this position, gaining such an insight into the music that had been part of her life for so long, a backstage pass in a way. Eventually, Vic and Jefferson took their leave to go and check into the inn in the middle of town. Belle wondered if she’d get a frantic message from Ariel in a few minutes saying that she’d seen the rest of Believe or Leave rocking up in Storybrooke and was there something that Belle was keeping from her?

Left alone with Rum, Belle cuddled in close to his side on the sofa.

“Are you glad that you made the call?” she asked.

“Oh Belle, you have no idea how glad.” Rum sighed wistfully. “It was just like old times, as if I’d never been away and we hadn’t all lived separate lives these past few years. Except, it wasn’t really, because you and Graham were here, which you never were before, but at the same time, it was like you’ve always been here as well.” He paused. “I’ve got so used to you being in my life now that I don’t like to think about the time before you were in it. I thought that being alone was what I wanted, but now that I look back, it feels so empty in comparison to the life I have now.”

Belle reached up and stroked Rum’s cheek gently. “You’ve been alone for so long that you forgot that you don’t have to be. But you don’t have to be, and life is easier when you’re not alone.”

Rum caught her fingers and brought them to his lips, pressing soft kisses over her knuckles.

“Much easier,” he said. “And much happier. I’m still daunted by what I’ve agreed to do, but whatever happens, I’m glad that I’ll have you by my side for it. I will have you by my side, won’t I?”

He sounded so nervous and unsure that Belle thought actions would speak louder than words in this scenario, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long, deep kiss, pouring all of her feelings out into it. By the time she pulled away, Rum was looking completely dumbstruck.

“I will always be by your side.”

X

If someone had asked Belle a year ago where she thought she would be now, she certainly would never have guessed upon the correct answer. Here she was, standing just off the stage at the first show of Believe or Leave’s farewell tour. The venue was a sell-out and tickets had been highly sought after online, so much so that the band had added extra dates to the tour to keep up with popular demand. Rum hadn’t been able to believe that so many people were still interested in their music. Still, he certainly couldn’t fault the crowd’s enthusiasm or their reactions. Belle was already wearing earplugs given her proximity to the massive speakers, but she felt that she needed another set to get over the roar of the spectators. She glanced over at Graham, who was standing with her, and he flashed her a huge grin and thumbs up. This was old hat for Graham; he’d stood in the same place for many of Jefferson’s solo concerts, but Belle was still drinking in all of the atmosphere. Whatever she might have been doing in that vision a year ago, she knew without a doubt that she would rather be right here. 

It hadn’t been plain sailing of course. Once it had been announced that Rum was joining Jefferson and Victor for the farewell tour after all, somehow all the journalists who’d failed to find him for seven years miraculously knew where he was and descended on Storybrooke, putting something of a dampener on the still-new relationship between him and Belle. Still, they’d persevered, with Rum escaping to the anonymity of the big city to go and rehearse with the rest of the group and Belle travelling back and forth to see him. The few weekends that they’d managed to spend together at the cabin, once the press furore had died down, had been absolutely blissful, and as excited as she was for the tour, Belle was very much anticipating getting back to that. Rum may have agreed to the tour, but a full reunion was out of the question. In a way, doing this series of concerts was going to provide closure for himself as much as for the fans who’d made his career. 

They were reaching the end of the evening, saving their most popular songs for last, and Belle was looking forward to hearing all of her favourites. She was surprised when Rum came to the front of the stage, taking the spotlight from Jefferson, who bowed out with his usual flourish. 

“Hello everyone,” he said. The crowd went wild with just those two words; considering they hadn’t heard from him for years half a sentence now was practically gold-dust. He waited for the clamour to die down before he continued. “I know that this is a farewell tour, and we’re not showcasing any new material, but there is just one new song that I would like to play for you today. This is inspired by and dedicated to the remarkable woman who convinced me to be here tonight, and I’d like to say thank you to her. If it wasn’t for meeting her, I wouldn’t be on this stage in front of you. This song is for Belle.”

He glanced over into the wings, smiling at her. Belle couldn’t move. This was… This was an incredible surprise. How had he managed to write an entire song for her without her noticing? She supposed that there had been a lot of time in the last few months when they’d been apart whilst he’d been practising with Vic and Jefferson, but even so, music was Rum’s life and he was always working on something or other whilst he was in the cabin, and he was as cluttered as they made them. She was sure she would have tripped over something that would have given her some indication that this was coming. 

The song was beautiful. Rum had always been best at writing the ballads and he’d broken many a teenage heart with his music and lyrics, including Belle’s own, but this one was more upbeat, a happy tune, an anthem of positivity and being able to move on from the past and embrace the new, of renewed hope and finding reasons to live. 

After the song’s final bars died away, there was a moment of reverent silence from the crowd of listeners. Belle wondered what they were thinking. She’d loved it, but then, it had been for her, and she’d known that Rum had been thinking of her whilst he’d been singing it and writing it. There was already so much of her in it despite it being the first time she’d heard it. 

She really needn’t have worried. After it had had couple of seconds to fully sink in, the audience went ballistic, and Belle joined them. It was nothing if not a triumph, and there was a definite sense of pride in knowing that the triumph was in part inspired by her.

The concert continued to go from strength to strength from there, the crowd growing ever more vociferous as the best and most well-loved songs were played. The applause and cheering were still earth-shattering as the band came off stage. They would go back out for a final encore, but in the couple of minutes’ respite, Rum only had eyes for Belle. He came over, sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her.

“Oh Rum,” she said once he finally let her go – although she would have been quite happy for him to have kept holding on to her forever. “That was absolutely wonderful. You were amazing.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He smiled, and even after all this time of being together, there was still a shyness and disbelief in it. He was having as much trouble accepting that he was really here as Belle was.

“I’m just glad that I could help to get you back here where you belong.” She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. “Go on, you should get back out there or they’ll be thinking that you’ve disappeared again.”

Rum gave a theatrical sigh. “Ah, the adoring and clamouring public. Ever am I their servant.”

Belle just batted his arm playfully. “Go on. I’ll still be here when you get back. Give them a finale that they’ll never forget. They deserve it. So do you.”

Rum laughed and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Belle. Thank you so much for being part of my life.”

Belle smiled. “I love you too.”

He dragged himself away then, returning to the stage with Vic and Jefferson for a final deafening encore of applause. Belle couldn’t help but join in.

The last few months had been a whirlwind, but they had been wonderful. The next few months of the tour would be just as colourful, but Belle wouldn’t change it for the world. Everything was going to be great.

[sambergscott]

i'd wait forever and a day for you

summary: post-trying // jake is on an undercover mission and amy thinks she’s pregnant. 

(you should read this just for the last line tbh)

Her period is late.

At first, she attributes it to stress. Jake is on a major undercover operation and while she is an incredibly proud, supportive wife, she knows how dangerous the situation is. He’s a great cop -- one of New York’s finest, in both senses of the word (...he’s hot) -- and he was so excited about getting this assignment. And she’s excited for him -- really, she is. But with updates filtering through to Captain Holt at a snail’s pace, it’s impossible not to worry about him, where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s safe. Her cycle was shot to hell when he was in Witness Protection in Florida and it is entirely possible that history is repeating itself. 

Four days pass, Jake is still undercover and her period still has not arrived. She tries to blame Hitchcock’s God-awful Zika cologne disrupting her cycle again until she remembers that both Hitchcock and Scully have been off work all week with food poisoning. She even Googles why is my period late?, quickly closing the tab and deleting her browser history when the first result that pops up is pregnancy. 

There’s no way she’s pregnant. She refuses to even consider it for a second. 

Despite her absolute certainty that her uterus is as empty as it’s always been, when Rosa invites her for drinks with her new boyfriend, Amy opts for a non-alcoholic beer. 

“I’m driving,” she explains at Rosa’s raised eyebrows and swiftly changes the conversation. She finds out that Rosa’s boyfriend is a mechanic and they hit it off when she took her motorbike in for repair. She talks about Jake, about how he’s her favourite person in the entire world and how much she misses him (A Lot). He asks her what it’s like dating a cop and how to deal with the person you love putting themselves in danger every single day, which makes Rosa blush. Amy has never seen her blush before. 

“It’s difficult,” she says truthfully. She hates seeing her husband hurting and being thrown in prison for crimes he didn’t commit and having guns pointed at his head. It’s why she instated the short-lived ‘no dating cops’ rule, before Jake kissed her and she decided screw it. “But it’s worth it. When you really love them, it’s worth the pain. Every second.”

“That’s what I thought,” he responds, looking at Rosa the way Jake looks at Amy. 

She finishes her drink (which is so not as good as its alcoholic counterpart) and gathers her coat and purse. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. See you Monday,” she directs at Rosa and “it was nice to meet you” at her boyfriend, who she has a feeling might be sticking around for a while. 

She opens up her Messages app and types out a full paragraph to Jake about how she met Rosa’s boyfriend before him and how he’s really nice and makes her blush! Rosa Disz!!! Blushing!!! She adds a gif of Jonathan Van Ness saying “can you believe?” and is about to click send when she realises his phone is on his nightstand where he left it before his mission and puts her phone back in her pocket in dismay. 

Once home, she gets changed into one of his NYPD t-shirts and climbs straight into bed, crying herself to sleep. 

She wakes up bright and early the next morning, a feat that is made significantly easier when there is no super cute husband to snuggle with. She showers, pulls on leggings and one of his plaid shirts and gets started on her Sunday Chores. Dancing around the apartment and pretending the mop is a microphone stand is a lot less fun on her own and she overcompensates, making herself dizzy and throwing up in the toilet she just cleaned. 

Without thinking, she finds herself at the bodega on the corner, staring at the selection of pregnancy tests. She grabs three of the safest looking ones and bites her lip when the guy congratulates her as she pays. She’s wasted hundreds of dollars on pregnancy tests thus far and she knows she’s definitely wasting money on these ones too. She doesn’t need congratulating for making poor financial decisions and being bad at making babies, but she thanks him anyway. 

Back at the apartment, she dumps the paper bag on the kitchen counter to deal with later. She makes a cup of tea, calls her mom and fills in The Times crossword. The paper bag screams out to her the entire time. 

Reluctantly, she removes the boxes from the bag, fully intending to put them away in the back of the bathroom cabinet, out of sight. 

A niggling voice tells her to just open one and find out. 

She has the box open and the test in her hand when her phone buzzes with a text from Holt informing her that Jake is safe and the mission is going well. 

She drops the test like it burnt her skin. 

Jake. She can’t do this without him. If she is pregnant, she’d never forgive herself for finding out without him, for stripping him of that moment they’d been dreaming of forever. 

She’s waited this long, she can wait a few more days. And she’s probably not pregnant anyway. 

She ends up waiting two more weeks. 

It’s torture. 

She’s throwing up almost daily, crying in the break room for no apparent reason and her damn period has still not come. All symptoms which could be explained away by a lack of Jake Peralta and stress (due to missing the aforementioned Jake Peralta). 

Rosa corners her in the ladies bathroom and asks if she wants her to run out for more pregnancy tests.

“I already have some at home.”

“And?” She prompts. “Did you take them? Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know.” She tries to play it off as no big deal, but Rosa knows her pretty well these days. 

“You’ve been trying for nearly a year, there’s a chance you are finally pregnant and you haven’t taken a test?”

“I can’t -- I want to -- Jake --.”

“Oh,” it dawns on her. 

“Yeah,” Amy sighs. “I’ve been staring at the tests every night but I just can’t. Not without him.  He’d be devastated.”

“He would not be devastated if you were pregnant, Amy Santiago.” 

“You know what I mean. He’d want to be have been there. I want him to be there.”

“I guess he needs to hurry the hell up and catch the bad guys then.”

He must have heard her because, hours later, the elevator door opens and there he is, exhausted and still in his weird undercover clothes, with the biggest smile on his face. 

She practically throws herself at him and, yeah, maybe she kisses him in a not-very-work-appropriate way and maybe some of the perps in the holding cell wolf whistle and maybe Charles is crying, but he is home and she can finally take those pregnancy tests. 

Holt allows her to clock out early (she makes a mental note to buy him a glass of Charbonnay the next time they go to Shaw’s) and Jake excitedly tells her all about the case, barely taking a second to breathe.

“Sounds fun, babe,” she says when he gets to the part of the story when he handcuffed the bad guys and then made out with this super hot chick in front of all his co-workers. 

“It was awesome,” he confirms. “What about you? What have you been up to? I missed you so much.”

“Aw,” she smiles, rubbing her hand over his thigh as he drives, “I missed you so much, too. As for what I’ve been up to, I’ve mostly just been kind of sick.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I... um... actually think I might be pregnant.”

He swerves suddenly, nearly crashing the car. Ignoring the cars around them honking, he focuses on his wife. “Pregnant?”

“My period is nearly three weeks late, I’ve been throwing up and I’ve been extra emotional,” she debriefs him. 

“Right. OK.” He takes a deep breath. “Have you taken a test?”

“I bought three but I couldn’t take them without you. It’s kind of been killing me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he laughs, pulling over in front of their apartment. Neither of them move. “We should probably take them now.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. 

“You nervous?”

“Yeah,” she says again. She’s lost count of how many negative tests they’ve seen, how many times she’s felt that familiar crushing disappointment. The thought of going through it all over again... 

“I understand. We can wait, if you want. Or we could rip the band-aid off, let the scab bleed all over the place. I’ll hold your hand.”

There’s this reassuring look in his eyes that she’s seen a million times over from back when they were newly-assigned partners and he was reassuring her they would solve a tough case to that time on the roof of 397 Barton Street when he said he always knew she was going to be his boss to his speech at Hitchcock’s (second) divorce party when he told her that they are a family and that they can take whatever ‘next step’ she wants because as long as they’re together, he’s happy. 

Because it’s him, she nods. “Let’s do this.” 

The wait for the timer to go off seems longer than ever. She squeezes his hand so tight she thinks she might cut off the circulation, but he doesn’t complain, just keeps talking about how they’ll be fine, no matter what the result. 

The timer eventually goes off and she picks up the test and starts crying immediately. 

Jake hugs her tight and she can feel him crying too and this is so crazy and insane and good. 

“We’re having a baby,” he says in awe and it’s the best thing Amy’s ever heard. 

“We’re having a baby!” She repeats, half-laughing, half-crying. 

She yelps as he lifts her up and spins her around their tiny bathroom before kissing her tenderly. 

“I can’t believe this,” he exclaims when he pulls away, rubbing his hand over his face, “can you?”

“Nope.” She grins, kissing him again.

[ggukcangetit]

Namjoon-ing in the Rain

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Synopsis: You hate the rain but your best friend, Namjoon, doesn’t feel the same. 

Genre/AU: fluff| best friends!au

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: PG-13 for language

Warnings: nothing really

A/N:  i’ve never really written a member-centric fic for anyone other than jungkook. not sure how this worked out. just something that felt like being written. mainly because i hate the rain and i miss my friends. banner by @sushireads​ !!

There is something about the rain. It makes everything horribly squelchy and disgusting. Daily routine is hampered, and everyone and everything is thrown off kilter. Frankly, you hate the rain. 

You do not own a car, instead having to rely on public transport for every single commute. Another reason why you cannot stand the rain. Squishing yourself into a crowded bus during rush hour, completely drenched and trying your utmost to avoid the wandering hands of well-meaning perverts, is not your idea of fun. And why are you drenched when the weather app has predicted a week’s worth of showers which should have prepared you to carry an umbrella along with you. Honestly, you have half a mind to sue every single umbrella manufacturer there is. What is the point of the umbrella if you are still soaked to the bone after holding it up in the rain for a maximum of 3 minutes?

Of course, you do not verbalize these grievances when the opportunity arises. Instead, you opt for a more succinct phrase.

“Fuck the rain.”

Your best friend doesn’t have much of a response to this, continuing to sip the americano in front of him.

“Namjoon, pay attention!” you yell, snapping your fingers in front of him to get his attention.

He looks up with a mildly amused expression. “I heard you.”

“It’s only polite to respond when someone says something.”

“Yes, but-” he shuts the book he had been reading- “when someone only ever says the one thing over and over again, responses are more likely to run out.”

“Rude.” You cross your arms across your chest, glaring out the window of the coffee shop situated opposite your place of work - the place you meet Namjoon every Friday when work gets over an hour early.

“Come on, Y/N,” Namjoon chuckles, tapping on the table to grab your attention. “You always complain about the rain, but you’ve never actually said why you hate it.”

“It’s an inconvenience,” you say simply.

“I beg to differ.”

“Why? Don’t tell me it’s some romantic bullshit like the rains make everything magical and wondrous. Or the ever popular notion that rains are cleansing - a new beginning!” You scoff and roll your eyes, fingers impatiently tucking wet strands of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sure that’s true to an extent. But that’s not what I’m talking about,” said Namjoon, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “I’ll try and explain it to you some other time. Right now, I’m too tired to think. Yoongi was up all night mixing tracks and I couldn’t fall asleep in the next room.”

“You should’ve gone home after work,” you say, feeling a little guilty.

“I should’ve,” he replies with a shrug, but doesn’t budge from his seat for another hour as you finish your latte and he makes a few notes in the book he was reading.

An entire month passes by, and you and Namjoon have missed your weekly Friday coffee meets twice. It’s nothing life-changing or particularly alarming that has caused this disruption. It’s just life. But on the fifth Friday, the weather is bright and sparkling, and Namjoon suggests sitting by the Han river instead of inside the coffee shop. Since you are breaking from your routine anyway, you decide to order an iced honey chai instead of your usual latte. Namjoon opts for two iced americanos instead of one. 

You’ve only been to the river a handful of times. Each time, Namjoon has been there with you. In a way, you can’t imagine the river without him. Memory is funny in the way that it attaches permanence to the more fleeting parts of existence. 

“Did you submit the report on time?” Namjoon asks, stretching his long limbs above his head. 

“Just. Two minutes more and I would’ve missed the deadline.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a fellow deadline junkie.”

You grin before sipping the iced honey chai. It doesn’t taste that great. This is why you don’t experiment with new things. They tend not to work out for you. Or maybe it’s just that you’re unwilling to give change a chance. But that thought is not something you dwell on for longer than a moment.

“Honey chai not to your liking?” Namjoon chuckles at your disgruntled expression.

“This is the last time I’m experimenting with things. Dunno why I did it in the first place. It’s all thanks to your terrible influence. Changing up our usual meeting place pressured me into changing up my choice of beverage.”

“Whatever makes sense to you.”

“I’m just glad the weather is good today! Crisp skies and warm sunshine! I’ve really missed this!” You gaze up at the sky happily, noting a single grey cloud floating by. 

The weather gods have never particularly liked you as is evidenced by the fact that a torrential downpour begins mere seconds after you utter that sentence. 

“Fuck!” You stand up, gathering your belongings and calculating the driest path back to the coffee shop.

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks, not having moved from his place on the bench.

“Inside. In case you haven’t noticed, Joon, it’s raining like the fucking apocalypse!”

“You’ll be drenched by the time you manage to get to any of the shops. It’s actually better to stay here. The benches here don’t really get wet unless there’s a strong accompanying wind.”

You groan dejectedly, dropping your bag on the bench and flopping down beside him. Namjoon always looks so peaceful during rains. It’s a complete contrast to the immense irritation this particular weather phenomenon has always ignited in you. 

“Why do you like the rain so much?” you ask, turning away from his handsome profile.

“I don’t like it, per se.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I have time.”

“I always look to people to learn about life. Each person in my life has taught me something different. But I also realised that this applies to rain as well. There are so many different kinds of rain, and just like the different people in my life, each type of rain has showed me something different about life. There’s the soft shower that barely touches you as it falls from the sky which is such a contrast to the relentlessness of the rainstorms that continue for hours on end. Then you have the sudden storms that burst through without any warning, upsetting the natural rhythm of things. The cold showers in early November that indicate the incoming winter. And lastly, the first rain that hits the ground after a brutal summer. That’s my favorite one because the smell of the wet earth coming to life always reminds me of that day in our first year of college.”

Namjoon wanted to cry. He was nineteen years old, studying art history and business at the most prestigious college in the country, on his way to becoming a research assistant for one of his favorite academics. Yet, today all he really wanted to do was cry. It was the last week of the semester, the weather had been particularly oppressive, the cafeteria had run out of food by the time he had managed to get out of a meeting with his professor, and to top it off, his bicycle chain had snapped just as he was preparing to cycle home. 

It was at that moment that you walked over to him. You both had become friends about a year ago, and if he was perfectly honest, Namjoon wasn’t really sure how that happened. You were calm, even slightly formidable, in the way that you handled every part of your college life. Whereas, he was a bit of a bumbling mess, misplacing lecture notes, contact lenses, and plastic utensils. He often wondered what it was that was holding your friendship together.

“You missed food,” you said to him, matter-of-factly. “It sucked. But I snagged one of Seokjin’s homemade chicken wraps for you.”

Namjoon blinked a couple of times before taking the neatly wrapped packet from you. 

“Well, go on,” you said impatiently. “Eat it. What’re you waiting for?”

“R-right.”

But just as he unwrapped the foil, a crack of thunder erupted followed by a burst of rainfall. Namjoon had resigned himself to the fact that things were not going to go his way that day. What he had not expected was to hear you yell the most interesting cuss words at the top of your voice.

“FUCKING HELL! THIS WAS NOT ON THE FORECAST FOR TODAY! I DON’T HAVE A BLOODY UMBRELLA WITH ME! BASTARDS IN THE WEATHER DEPARTMENT CAN’T EVEN DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS PROPERLY! UGH!!!”

Though everything that could go wrong had gone wrong that day, he had never been able to forget the smell of the wet earth on that day. Because that was when he began seeing you as a real person and stopped questioning the mechanics of your friendship. 

“I realised that day that you and I were different in many ways, but there would always be something that united us. We’re human and all humans feel despair and frustration at something or the other. The rain humanized you that day. And I’ll always be grateful to it because otherwise I would’ve never gotten to know my best friend.”

It continues pouring for a couple of hours more. But the two of you don’t move from the bench alongside the river. The iced honey chai lays neglected on the iron armrest, while the empty americano cups have long since been deposited into the nearby trash can. 

There is something about the rain. It makes everything horribly squelchy and disgusting. Daily routine is hampered, and everyone and everything is thrown off kilter. But frankly, there are better things to hate than the rain.