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#so the first outfit visual is almost done!!
lis-likes-fics · 7 months
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Music to My Eyes
Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖
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You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.
Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.
You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"
The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.
Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.
You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.
You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.
Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."
The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.
You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.
"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."
Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.
One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."
You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.
/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.
Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./
You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./
Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.
He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.
His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."
He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.
"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."
That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"
"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.
He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.
Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.
Then again, no one likes tapping.
When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.
"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.
You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.
"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).
"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"
You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.
Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."
Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"
You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/
Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.
/I'm only being honest./
Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"
Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.
"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.
/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./
Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./
You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./
Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."
Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."
As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"
Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/
Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.
~
The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.
At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.
It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.
You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.
Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.
Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.
His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.
"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.
"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?
He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.
"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.
You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.
"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"
You make a face, one that says "not quite".
He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."
You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.
Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"
'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.
"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.
As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.
"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.
You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.
"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.
You nod and he hums.
You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.
When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.
And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.
Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.
The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.
Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.
But…
"Do you like sweets?"
Yes, you do.
You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?
You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.
You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.
He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.
"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.
You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.
He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.
/Signing or writing./
Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.
"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"
His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.
You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.
He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"
He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.
You shrug again.
/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/
The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.
He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"
You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./
You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.
Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.
You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".
But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.
He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.
Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.
You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.
When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.
He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"
He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.
F. I. N. N. I. C. K.
You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).
You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/
You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.
He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.
"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.
You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.
After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.
/Mentor cannot speak?/
"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."
You write again. /Cannot sign?/
"No."
You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."
You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.
/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.
"Really?" he furrows his brow.
You shrug. Why not?
Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.
His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."
Your own smile grows.
He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.
"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"
You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./
He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"
He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.
/Yes./
His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.
You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.
/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./
The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…
"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.
But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./
He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"
You shake your head. /Do not like to./
He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.
You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.
You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/
He nods. "Yeah."
/Sure?/
His second nod is more firm. "Yes."
He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.
After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.
Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.
"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.
He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.
"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.
After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.
He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.
He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.
You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.
/What do you like to do?/
He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.
Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.
You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.
But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.
He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.
“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.
He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.
When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”
You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.
“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”
You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./
The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.
He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.
“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.
You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.
/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./
He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.
You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./
He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”
Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.
The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.
~
The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.
Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.
"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.
"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"
You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"
His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.
"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."
"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"
He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.
"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.
"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.
"Did he now?"
"He did."
Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.
"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."
"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.
"I wish I could."
He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"
"As do I, Lucky. As do I."
He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"
You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.
"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."
"The pleasure is all mine."
He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"
They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.
/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.
You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./
He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.
/You've got to keep them happy./
You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.
/I know,/ you nod.
The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.
Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.
"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.
"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.
"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"
You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."
"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"
You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.
"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"
You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.
Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.
"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."
You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.
"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.
You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.
His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."
You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.
He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."
You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./
Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.
When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.
/You seemed familiar./
/Stop./
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Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...
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463 notes · View notes
misshoneyimhome · 3 months
Note
Hey for intern! x Willy maybe a guy asks intern out infront of everyone and she can't really say no cause she doesn't want people to catch on to her seeing anyone and William is fucking pissed. Bonus points if the girls make her go out on this date and Willy is following them. Just shows up after the date and fucks her silly saying she is his
Oh yes, bb! 😉 So I chose to combine this ask with this one, as I thought it might go well together... hopefully you get my idea 🙈🤍 cause yes, that scarf is for multiple purposes 🙌🏼🙃
Warnings; 18+ smut; fingering; unprotected sex (p in v), mild bondage?
Word count: 3.2K
・✶ 。゚
Everything that kills me makes me feel alive I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️ [intern x willy]
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"Hey, the boys are on their way," your manager announced just before you positioned yourself with your phone ready to capture the Toronto Maple Leafs players arriving for tonight's home game.
"Great, I'm all set," you simply replied, smiling as you then awaited their entrance.
This was easily one of your favourite tasks as an intern, even if it wasn't officially part of your job, you were always happy to step in when needed. Watching the guys stroll into the arena in their best attire was nothing more than a visual treat.
First up was John Tavares, looking sharp in his classic outfit with grey dress trousers, a light blue shirt, a matching tie, and a beige blazer.
Then next came Max Domi, opting for a slightly less formal look without a tie and sporting a slightly unbuttoned shirt with a relaxed vibe.
"You're looking good, Maxi," you said, flashing him a sweet smile, which earned you a cheeky wink in return.
Following him was William Lagasson, sporting a more casual look with a beanie, shooting you a quick smile.
And finally, your secret crush, William Nylander, entered the scene. He wore a dark blue suit with white stripes, giving off an almost Italian mafia-esque style, complemented by a pair of trainers and a sleek grey turtleneck shirt. His long blonde hair was slicked back, AirPods in his ears, while casually holding his phone. You had to mentally remind yourself not to stare too obviously – but that was easier said than done.
Shit, he was gorgeous.
However, what caught your eye about his outfit tonight was the small silky scarf elegantly wrapped around his neck.
And as he neared, William noticed you behind the camera and couldn't resist glancing up from his phone, flashing you a confident smirk.
You were aware that when players entered with headphones, they usually preferred not to be disturbed, staying focused on the upcoming game. Yet, as William approached and seemed to be heading your way, you simply couldn't resist.
"Looking quite good, Don Juan," you chuckled lightly, playfully winking at him.
"Seems like you're a fan?" he quipped, lightly tucking on the fabric around his neck.
"Well, they didn’t nickname you 'Willy Styles' for nothing," you teased, gesturing towards his scarf and then back at him.
"Happy you like it..." he spoke softly, ensuring no one else was nearby before whispering, "I always want to look good for you, just like you always look so damn good for me, baby."
In that moment, a tender connection passed between you, causing a rush of sensation that forced you to discreetly clench your thighs together, as you felt your beating vagina almost cream your knickers.
William's smile always had that effect on you. And especially since you'd become more intimately involved, he knew precisely how to push your buttons.
God, you hated him for it. Just as much as you loved him for it.
However, you had to brush off his playful remark. It wasn't suitable given the situation – you were at work, and your "situationship" had to remain casual and at distance.
"Come on, lover boy, keep it moving," Calle Jarnkrok then chimed in from behind as he too entered, prompting William to offer you another wink before sauntering away towards the locker room.
It was one of those moments where you wished you and William could openly flirt. He looked incredibly handsome tonight, and you couldn't help but feel an intense desire for him. But you simply couldn't act on it.
And neither could William.
Despite his habit for pushing the limits, he also knew where the line was drawn. And every passing day made it harder for both of you to maintain composure and professionalism, especially given the increased numbers of time you’d slept together by now.
However, tonight wasn't about either of you.
It was about Captain John Tavares and his 1000 points ceremony, which swiftly diverted your attention from your feelings for William.
And the night turned out to be fantastic. Despite the busy atmosphere for you and the rest of the staff, it was an incredible experience. Even with the loss against the Rangers, the arena buzzed with energy, and the crowd cheering loudly for the players.
Then following the match, the cheers gradually died down as the players headed back to the locker room, and you and your co-worker Melanie found yourselves engrossed in lively conversations with the team's family and friends.
Which wasn’t unusual for you to do. Over the past few months, you’d grown rather close with many of the partners, just like most of the staff members had done as well over time. It was simply a result of spending so many hours, days, and weeks together as a team and a crew.
And this closeness also led you to get to know one of Stephanie and Mitch’s friends, Jared. He'd been around the rink for a while now, and you'd had a few conversations while he’d waited for Mitch to finish training.
Tonight, however, Jared decided to take things a step further. Finding you both attractive and intriguing, he boldly asked you out on a casual coffee date - in front of everyone.
To say you were surprised by his sudden interest would be an understatement. And what made matters slightly worse was recalling that just last week, you had told Steph you weren't seeing anyone at the moment, as you hadn't wanted anyone to know about your forbidden relationship with player in number 88 on the team.
So, standing there, in the hallway with all eyes on you and the handsome man before you, you felt trapped and uncertain how to respond. Yet, naturally, Steph nudged your side, offering an encouraging expression.
"Come on, y/n…" she whispered with a light chuckle, and you knew you had to give in.
"Sure, why not," you flashed a bright smile at Jared, prompting excitement from Stephanie and a few other girls.
However, not everyone shared the enthusiasm about your answer.
Across the room, William's intense gaze bore into you. His eyes aflame with emotion, jaw clenched, his hand formed into a fist as he processed your acceptance of Jared's invitation.
It was the first time he had truly considered that your secret relationship wasn't just something hidden; it also meant the potential for you to openly date someone else. Someone with whom you wouldn't have to sneak around, keeping things casual and under wraps.
He felt jealous.
No, he felt more than just jealousy. He was frustrated, envious, and almost angry at the thought of you being with someone else. The mere idea of another person touching or kissing you turned his stomach.
But despite his attempts to come off as calm and composed, his reaction didn't escape the notice of his close friend and teammate.
"Hey, take it easy, Willy," Calle said softly in Swedish, making sure no one else would understand. "We all know you care for her, but she's not yours to date."
William knew his friend's words were meant to be sensible. Yet, he couldn't shake off the irritating feelings he had about you and Jared.
And the irritation persisted into the following day, where William was aware you had plans to meet Jared for a coffee date. Yet, despite his efforts to distract himself during morning skates and weightlifting workouts, thoughts of you with another man still lingered.
So, instead of heading home, although he knew it might seem immature and a bit of a douche bag move, William decided to go to the coffee place where he expected to find you with Jared. And as he queued up, hearing your beautiful laughter resonate through the room, he tried his best to remain hidden form your view. However, he did purposefully eavesdrop while waiting for his coffee, overhearing your conversation. He listened intensely as you shared your aspirations about your career in marketing and public relations, your upcoming completion of education, and your desire to travel to Europe.
William's heart sank as he almost froze upon hearing Jared mention his wish for a family and how you, too, had thought about a future with children. It was something William had dreamt about as well – having a family of his own.
It was a moment where his worlds collided as the barista called out his name, jolting him back to reality – he was a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey player who wasn't allowed to share his dreams with the one he desired the most: you.
Gathering his thoughts, he then took his coffee and quietly left the shop just before he stole a glance in your direction, but you were too engrossed in conversation with Jared, oblivious to his presence.
And as the evening passed without any word from you, William grew increasingly anxious. Had you developed feelings for Jared? Was his chance with you slipping away?
The uncertainty ate away at him.
And not receiving a response to his texts heightened William's urge to remind you of something.
Meanwhile, across the city, you had just finished a shower, contemplating your day as you blow-dried your hair.
The date with Jared had been pleasant, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. He was nice, shared your interests, and had a great sense of humour, but there was no spark.
It was nothing in comparison to what you felt with William. And it made you realise that perhaps you'd never experience the same emotions for anyone else.
This revelation saddened you a bit, especially considering you still had six more months of your internship. And what if the MLSE offered you a position afterward that you couldn't refuse, limiting your options? Or what if William ended up moving to another team? It would of course solve the forbidden aspect of your relationship, but it could also mean that he’d have to move far away from you.
The thought of various potential outcomes in your future, none of which involved being with William, made you feel queasy. And you knew you had to remind yourself that despite the enjoyment, it was temporary. Nothing more could ever happen.
That was until your train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a knock on your front door, and without much consideration, you went to check who it was, wearing nothing but a towel.
And as you cautiously opened the door, you were greeted by the sight of your handsome Swedish lover standing in the hallway.
“Willy,” you said softly, slightly surprised, as you opened the door fully. “What are you doing here?”
His expression appeared serious as he confidently stepped forward, invading your personal space.
“I've come to remind you of who you belong to,” he said in a dark and husky voice, entering your studio apartment and closing the door behind him.
You were taken aback. You had never seen such a serious and smug expression on his usually cheerful and flirtatious face. Yet, it intrigued you, and a small gasp escaped you as he drew closer, wrapping his arms around your slender body.
"This we don’t need," he murmured seductively, his fingers deftly undoing the knot of your towel before resting firmly on your hips.
Your arms instinctively reached for his chest, then slid up to encircle his neck as his hands found your bare ass, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace, where you wrapped your legs around his hips in response.
This had almost become routine by now. Your mouths met in a fiery, passionate kiss, tongues intertwining as you both lost yourselves in the moment, while he carried you towards the bed, your lungs emptying for air.
And as he laid you down, a large smirk spread across his lips as he admired your curvaceous figure before him.
Your eyes locked intensely with his, conveying nothing but pure desire. Thoughts of Jared were long gone from your mind, completely consumed by the man standing before you. Anticipation coursed through you, your body tingling in sheer eagerness for what he had in store for you.
And with a mischievous grin still playing on his lips, William retrieved a small piece of fabric from his pocket - the scarf you had commented on during his arrival yesterday. He had been thinking about something since your brief shared moment the previous night, and tonight felt like the perfect opportunity to bring it to fruition.
"Hands above your head," he commanded firmly, and you complied without hesitation.
You were aware of William's penchant for asserting dominance, but tonight, it seemed to intensify a notch. As he leaned over your exposed body, he skilfully used the scarf to bind your wrists together securely.
“Willy,” you moaned softly, your eyes fixed intensely on him.
“Shh, baby, I promise I’ll do you good,” he whispered darkly into your ear. “Far better than he ever could.”
Another soft gasp escaped you as he left you lying on the bed, your senses heightened as his fingers tenderly caressed your skin. Standing by the foot of the bed, he then undressed himself to his boxers, his gaze never leaving you, making the atmosphere charged with intensity even though he had barely touched you.
“You look fucking incredible like this... completely naked and ready for me,” he spoke roughly as he knelt on the bed, spreading your legs further with his body.
"Yes, Willy... I'm ready for you," you cried out softly, trying to maintain your hands where he had commanded.
But William noticed your desire to move your arms. So, while positioning himself over you, he held your wrists down with one hand, teasing the inside of your thighs with the other.
The anticipation was almost torturous, something William was well aware of. Your restrained whimpers escaped your lips as your breathing grew incoherent.
His gentle touch left you yearning, until you felt his fingers teasing you through your folds.
"Oh, yes, baby, so wet for me..."
And more soft cries escaped you as you felt him painfully slowly slide two fingers inside your entrance, gradually stretching your walls.
"Yes, Willy... Please, more," you pleaded, and with a smirk on his lips, he granted your request.
Thrusting deep into your core, he worked his fingers, slightly curling them to heighten your pleasure before withdrawing, leaving you feeling void and empty.
"What?" you cried out in disappointment.
"Not fun to be teased, huh? How do you think I felt when I saw you on a date with someone else..." William's voice carried a tinge of frustration as he pushed his fingers inside you once more, pumping a few times before pulling them out completely.
"Willy... please," you gasped, feeling thoroughly teased. "I only want you..."
The fusion of your words and cries seemed to captivate his thoughts, prompting him to release your wrists. And then he stood up, shedding his boxers to unleash his pulsating cock, already dripping with pre-cum from being aroused all day, consumed with the desire to fuck you senseless.
Then returning to the bed, he knelt down, seized your legs, and forcefully drew your hips closer to him. Placing your feet on his shoulders, he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance before pushing forcefully inside you.
"Fuck!" You let out a loud moan as he thrust deeply and vigorously into you, finding a steady rhythm.
"Yeah, that's it baby! You belong to me," he uttered with a deep breath, continuing his relentless pounding, causing your cries to intensify, as he maintained a strong and unyielding pace, not even allowing you a moment to adjust. However, your juices provided him easy penetration.
It was all so overwhelmingly stimulating; your mind struggled to focus as William's body connected with yours, his hands securing your ankles against his chest.
"You're mine, understand?"
The room echoed with moans as sweat glistened on your skin. And though you desired to move your hands, your body had surrendered entirely to the man driving into you, and you sensed the impending rush of a powerful orgasm about to peak.
However, just as William felt your walls tightening around him, indicating your imminent climax, he decided it wasn't how he wanted you to reach that peak.
Abruptly, he then halted his motions, swiftly withdrawing and releasing your legs. Leaning over you, he untied the scarf, before swiftly turning you around onto your hands and knees and entering you from behind.
"Fuck, yes!" You moaned as he pounded deeply once more, feeling the entirety of his cock filling you.
But for William, this still wasn't enough. With his right hand seizing your hair and his left arm enveloping your torso, he pulled you onto your knees, your back against his chest.
The tug on your hair was gentle, not forceful, and soon his hand shifted, wrapping softly around your neck to steady you against him while he continued his passionate thrusts.
And instinctively, your free hand sought to grip him while the other held onto the hand supporting you around your body.
In this intimate position, your bodies pressed together, exchanging warmth and sweat as William's member glided in and out of your wetness. His lips and teeth found the sensitive curve of your neck, prompting you to lean back, resting against his muscular chest.
"Willy, I'm about to come," you exhaled heavily.
"Me too, baby… come with me," he moaned against the sensitive skin of your neck.
And in just a few more thrusts, both of you surrendered to the sensations, closing your eyes in sheer pleasure as orgasms rippled through your bodies. Minds went blank, and the room filled with loud, ecstatic moans, as he shot his cum into you, your legs trembling, on the verge of collapsing were it not for William's firm grasp keeping you upright.
And instead of letting go, he held you close to him.
Not ready to part from your embrace, he kept himself buried inside of you, ensuring his release covered your walls completely. Then with a deep grunt, he slowly pulled out. You could almost sense the mixture of fluids trickling down your thigh as he gradually separated from your body.
A comfortable silence filled the room as you both, still breathless, disentangled from the position, and William gently guided you to recline with him on your backs, pulling you in for a tender cuddle.
And while resting in his arms, your head nestled on his shoulder, a thought suddenly struck you, prompting you to gaze up at him.
"Willy?" you softly inquired, meeting his eyes.
"Uh-huh?"
"Did you follow me on the date?"
William paused for a moment, acknowledging how it might seem a bit stalker ish. But he couldn't really deny the truth; he had indeed followed you.
"Yeah..." he admitted tentatively, locking eyes with you. "I'm sorry, y/n/n… I know it's not right for me to ask this, especially since we can't be public about our… you know, relationship. But I just can't stand the thought of you being with someone else..."
His breaths were heavy as he poured out his heartfelt confession, and you couldn't help but smile lightly, taking in his words.
"Willy, I don't want to date anyone else… I meant it when I said I only wanted you," you reassured him.
"So, does that mean... we're, like, together?" he asked with a soft smirk.
"I suppose it does," you replied, flashing him a wide smile. “But still in secret of course…”
“Of course,” he whispered softly, before sealing your announced relationship with a soft kiss.
124 notes · View notes
wen-kexing-apologist · 6 months
Text
Who is Mew Anyway?
I realized we are over halfway through Only Friends now, and that I have only talked about Mew once in my write ups. Which…makes sense for me, all things considered, until now he’s kind of been a blah character in my eyes. And I am leaning in to and really appreciating how intentional that is beginning to feel on behalf of Jojo and co. 
When you think about it, until literally halfway through the show we have known almost nothing about Mew besides the fact that he is the table keeper for his friends, he is a hotel management student, and he’s a virgin. If you asked me to list any other facts about Mew’s life or his role in life, I would not have been able to answer much of anything. 
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And that’s because Mew isn’t really anything. Personally, I feel like Mew thinks he has a strong sense of self and the second that something comes along to question that, all those illusions he has of himself start crumbling. When I look at Mew’s character, and I mean start getting in to the nitty gritty of Mew’s character, I don’t think Mew has any idea who he is. Which, for a show about college students is fucking brilliant. I thought I knew who I was in college, and then I graduated and promptly became queer and trans. I thought I knew what career I wanted, and then I ended up going to grad school for something outside of my initial plans. I know @waitmyturtles mentioned something similar about trying on different personalities in college in her Episode 7 Review. 
Think about Mew’s apartment, it was his mother’s old place. He took it over after she moved out. He didn’t choose this place, we can’t be certain this is the type of apartment or the location that Mew would actively decide to be in. When he brings Top home the first night they meet, Top comments on the place:
“Your room is nice, it suits you” 
To which Mew replies ‘It’s my Mom’s old room. I decorated it using ideas from the internet” 
Which says to me that Mew’s own personality, his own interests weren’t even involved in the creation of his own personal space. He decorated it based on inspiration from what other people had done to their own places. And Mew’s apartment fascinates me further, as a color-coder in BL kinda person. Because Mew’s apartment is all over the place in its decoration. 
On one wall we have striped wallpaper, in orange hues.
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On another we have light blue walls with white and golden patterning. A yellow couch, a blue bookshelf. 
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In his room he has a wall that is painted a solid green
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And I can’t quite get a good image of it, but the opposite wall in his room is painted a dark turquoise with white patterning, which is different from Ray’s house, but still evokes a similar visual point of comparison.
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Even Mew himself, when we first meet him is alllllll over the place with his colors. He has lines all over his shirt, with squares of different colors. His second look of the show is a solid light blue shirt over top of a striped shirt with orange, green, yellow.
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His bed sheets are similarly stripes with dark gray, green, yellow, and orange.
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Which is to say, at the beginning of our time with Mew, it is hard to pin down who he is as a person. He doesn’t have a color, he doesn’t have a pattern, to associate with his character. He fluctuates between rich, saturated colors and light, washed out pastels. 
When I think of Mew, I think of all the outfits he’s worn that have a strong green tint to them, but honestly, looking back through his wardrobe, Mew has a broad range of colors he chooses from. 
(Now, I recognize that all of this could be because the costuming department does not actually care about color coding, and that the eclectic styling of Mew’s apartment was just how it already was. And that’s fine, but I’m here so I’m gonna overanalyze it.)
All this to say that, Mew’s colors, Mews home, Mew’s pattern choices are all very disparate. All this to say that as a result I am now assuming that Mew does not know who he is, and neither do we. He could go any number of ways. Mew could go orange, yellow, green, blue. He could be complicated (with complex patterns) or straight forward (with solid colors). But none of us know at the beginning of this show quite where he will go. 
Truthfully, the only aspect of Mew that I have seen be steadfast throughout the show, is Mew’s moral superiority complex. Everything else is mutable. Mew has throughout most of the show, regarded himself as a good person. He doesn’t drink much, he doesn’t dance much, he doesn’t sleep around at all, and that somehow in his mind, grants Mew the opportunity to talk down to his friends. 
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He’s not an alcoholic like Ray who he has no problem lecturing in the bathroom about how he is  going to be dead by 30, despite knowing that Ray is/was suicidal. He’s not a slut like Boston, who is far too obsessed with Mew’s virginity, etc. etc. etc. Mew fucks with Top, deciding that he is going to wait to have sex with him for awhile. And that is his right, but Mew doesn’t say he’s waiting because he isn’t comfortable with sex. He tells Boston and Cheum that he is waiting to have sex with Top to make sure that Top is serious about their relationship. Because if Top is serious about dating Mew without sex being involved, that means that Mew is worthy of the top tier because he is top tier, and not because he is an easy lay that Top can use for bragging rights (bagging a virgin). 
And I would have previously entertained a conversation around whether or not that is true, but unfortunately for any dissenters to my read of Mew, now that Mew has decided to #embracethenasty, there is no convincing me out of my observation that Mew does not know who he is. 
Why? Because the second that Mew starts retaliating against Top, the second he decides to ruin Top’s life, to stoop low, to be the lesser person…Mew starts dressing like Ray. I am certainly not the first person to notice this, it has been circulating in multiple different forms across my tumblr page, but.
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Gif from @firstmix
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Mew doesn’t know who he is, Mew doesn’t know how he fits in to the world now that he has decided to make Top’s life a living hell. I am not convinced Mew is capable of seeing himself as a bad person, because he isn’t a slut or an addict or a cheater. [As an aside here, this is Mew’s thinking, not my own personal beliefs on what makes someone a good or bad person]. So, of course, if he wanted to become a bad person. If he wanted to play at being as toxic and terrible as the people around him, it makes sense Mew would don the wardrobe of his “best friend”, Ray. Ray, who Mew looks down on for being an alcoholic, for not valuing his life. Who Mew has told time and time again to love himself, and to quit drinking and doing drugs, as if that is going to cure Ray’s addiction. And who in under five minutes just took a blowtorch to everyone’s relationships. 
Why? Because Mew is so self-righteous that he looks down on others around him. Mew isn’t ready or willing to look at and acknowledge the nasty, flawed parts of himself, so he adorns the nasty, flawed parts of others, to abstract himself from his own behavior. He uses Ray’s clothing, Nick’s methodology, and Boston’s personality to retaliate at the people he feels wronged by. 
Mew uses Boston against himself, wielding Boston’s sexual prowess, his willingness to fuck, his Hunter charm to get himself in to Gap’s apartment. He uses Nick’s methodology to steal the video of Boston and lords the knowledge over Boston’s head (like Nick did to Top), and again, he is wearing Ray’s clothing. But while Mew is trying to be a chameleon in his behavior, his appearance, his strategy to get back at Top, Mew’s own flavor of flaw starts becoming ever more clear. 
Mew has a superiority complex.
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It is absolutely, unbelievable shitty and vile to threaten to out Boston to his father. To treat Boston’s privacy and safety with such disdain. Boston records others and he keeps those images as evidence, so Mew steals Boston’s MO. Mew takes the recording of Boston, looks Boston in the eye, and makes Boston think that he is going to hold on to that for evidence.
Now, right before this, Mew does actually draw a comparison point between himself and Boston. 
“You and I have something in common.” he says
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“We’re both gullible” 
Mew makes Boston beg. And after he has made Boston sweat sufficiently, he throws the flashdrive on the ground. He says: “I’m kidding. No matter how much I hate you, I won’t do it. Because I don’t betray my friend like you did. 
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“Then I’d be just as filthy as you are.”
While Mew is able to identify a potential flaw of his own, being gullible isn’t a fundamental aspect of Mew’s personality or character, being gullible isn’t who Mew is. It’s a flaw that he is pointing out only because he is still reeling from allowing himself to be fooled by Top and Boston. It’s a flaw that he is point out so that he can weaponize his superiority complex. 
In other words: “You and I have something in common, but I am better than you because I don’t betray my friends”  As if he didn’t just threaten to publicize Boston’s sex life to his father, the implications of which could have a national impact.
And while it is ultimately unsurprising that Mew channels Ray in doing all of this, it is interesting. Interesting because Mew is using Ray. Mew not only knows that Ray is capable of fucking up his own life, and the lives of the people around him, he also knows that Ray is the least liked by both Boston and Top. Boston’s distaste for Ray is subtle, as his obsession with Top and Mew has been more at the forefront of his interactions with his friends. But we have seen from the very beginning of this show that Boston does nothing to care for Ray. Boston is assigned to take care of Ray and make sure he is safe when he’s been drinking too much. Boston literally never once helps Ray when he’s drunk. Boston sees Ray and Sand crossed, cuddling, and generally having a good time, and Boston goes and airs Ray’s dirty laundry. Ray is the first person to confront Boston about cuckolding Mew. 
So wearing clothing that is reminiscent of Ray when Mew goes to Boston’s house to threaten him is a flavorful undertone for how Mew is hoping Boston will see him. 
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At the points in which Top and Mew interact during the episode, Mew is not dressed like Ray, but he sure as shit does lord Ray over Top just to fuck with him. When Top comes to apologize to Mew, Mew asks Ray to find a new designer, literally asking Ray to replace Top. When Ray helps treat Mew’s injury after the group fight, Mew decides to use Ray as a rebound. To use Ray’s feelings for him as a way to experiment, once again, with the type of person he wants to be and the type of person he wants to be with. We end the episode with Ray and Mew dancing together at the bar, Mew dressed in a very Ray style
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Because Mew is trying Ray on for size, trying his fashion, his company, his lifestyle (as we see from the promo for next week) and that is prone to make RayMew crash and burn, because Ray is self-destructive enough as is, and I don’t think Mew is going to do well with treating himself with Ray’s level of self-care.
Mew doesn’t know who he is, Mew doesn���t know what he wants, the only thing Mew knows is that he’s better than everyone around him, and he can only stoop as low as them is by pretending he is them, rather than facing the fact that he's just as terribly human as the rest of the group.
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tehloserprince · 6 months
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Some folks asked me to post/share this here because they found it useful, so ...
I was a little surprised by the amount of people who thought Gabriel and Beelzebub literally met only three times before deciding they were in love and running off together. It's true that we see three pivotal moments in Gabriel's memories, and I think @neil-gaiman and co. showed the audience these specific moments for a reason, but the writing and visual cues in each of the scenes seemed to be done in a way that would emphasize the passage of time between meetings and the development of the relationship between Gabriel and Beelzebub to the audience.
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First Meeting: I believe this one happened not too long after Armageddon failed to materialize. We're given an immediate visual cue from Gabriel, whose outfit is closer to what he wore in S1; he's wearing the same scarf and jacket that he wore throughout that season, and also when he met Beelzebub on the Tadfield airbase. Could be appropriate attire for the season, since we do see Gabriel wearing the coat again a bit later (sans scarf).
At their meeting, Gabriel is seated on the left and Beelzebub is on the right. Their meeting place seems to be somewhere in Russia (away from their home territories). The table is rather large, creating some distance between the two of them. Their body language is also a lot more guarded: legs and arms crossed at times, and they tend to lean away from each other more throughout the conversation. This meeting is short, but there are some sparks between the two of them: the gentle teasing ("well, you lost"/"so did you"), Beelzebub crossing their arms and trying not to smile at Gabriel's "Arma-bloody-geddon" moment, and the shared understanding over the burdens of being the respective Commanders-in-Chief of Heaven and Hell.
It ends with Gabriel leaving quickly after saying it's a pity they'll never speak again, but ...
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Second Meeting: ... obviously, they do end up speaking again. When Gabriel enters this particular meeting, he's wearing an outfit closer to what we see him wearing in S2 prior to him losing his memory. Again, possibly a seasonal cue as well. At the beginning of the Second Meeting, Gabriel sits down across from Beelzebub and immediately proposes the idea of "no Armageddon." He would have no reason to do that unless there had been other meetings that deepened their initial connection and made him realize that hey, a victory for Heaven would mean NO Beelzebub, which would kind of suck because he's grown to enjoy their company and their little "work meetings."
While they've built a sort of rapport over their work lives, there seems to be something else simmering beneath the surface. This is reflected in more visual cues: their body language seems more comfortable/relaxed - they lean towards one another as opposed to leaning back and maintaining distance; the table itself is much smaller (meaning they're seated closer together/with less distance between them); and they've also switched sides - Beelzebub is now seated on the left and Gabriel is on the right. Their meeting place seems to be a bar in America, which might mean they've still been avoiding any meetings in their home territories.
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Beelzebub is open to Gabriel's suggestion and agrees to it almost immediately. Instead of rushing off like he did after their first meeting, Gabriel remains seated and Beelzebub seems to get a bit flustered by his gaze. They discuss the music playing on the jukebox, and Beelzebub is so much more patient with Gabriel's lack of knowledge than they would have been with anyone else. There are multiple layers to Gabriel's line, "Then ... I also like it." The little subtleties from Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn add a wonderful depth to these short scenes tbh.
At the end of the meeting, Beelzebub straightens up, fixes their gaze on Gabriel, and very pointedly states that there's "no NEED for them to ever meet again," smiling slightly as they wait for his response ("none whatsoever"). The wording there is important because ...
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Third Meeting: ... there IS no "need" for them to ever meet again. From here on out, they're meeting solely because they WANT to be in each other's company. They're no longer pretending that their meetings are strictly business, and they're also not limiting themselves to locations outside their home territories. I get the feeling that the Third Meeting the audience gets to see was more like their "first date." Instead of meeting directly at a public location to discuss "business," Gabriel takes Beelzebub to see something important to him. Of course, this is Gabriel we're talking about, and he's taken Beelzebub to see the statue of him in a local cemetery in Edinburgh. But still! The statue is meaningful to him, and he wanted to share that with Beelzebub. They're even standing right next to each other as the scene begins, with Beelzebub's head cocked to listen as Gabriel speaks. Shelley Conn gives us this awesome moment of Beelzebub looking at Gabriel almost wistfully, and mmm do I have Some Thoughts about that entire scene. I've shared them elsewhere, maybe I'll eventually post them over here, but the TLDR is that yeah, I feel like they're wishing Gabriel would look at them Like That. I also think maybe there was some larger doubt re: whether or not the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, God's Messenger, would ever love a demon over their heavenly duty/station. But I digress.
Following their excursion to see the statue, Beelzebub and Gabriel wind up at The Resurrectionist. Gabriel's been wearing that coat again, which could show another shift in the seasons. Instead of sitting across from each other, Gabriel and Beelzebub are now seated next to each other in a cozy booth. The candles and dim lighting give it a romantic feel. Adding to that clumsy sort of romantic feeling, we see Gabriel and Beelzebub each doing something nice for the other just to see them happy. Gabriel performs a small miracle on the jukebox to have it play what has essentially become "their" song, and Beelzebub gifts a fly in return - essentially, a small piece of themselves, as they are the Lord of the Flies after all. It also happens to be the first thing anyone's ever given to Gabriel, a fact that has quite an impact on Beelzebub.
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When Aziraphale is talking to the owner of The Resurrectionist, he learns that the jukebox miracle occurred "last year." So we can deduce (detective word!) that Gabriel and Beelzebub had been "dating" for about a year prior to his "disappearance." A year is a long time for them to develop much deeper feelings and intimacy. Not necessarily talking about sex there either, because folks can imagine whatever they want to in that regard. I mean intimacy in the sense of knowing and feeling comfortable with each other. The way they hold hands and have their arms around each other in the S2 finale indicates that they'd gotten pretty cozy with all of that. I mean, come on, look at how happy Gabriel was to see them once his memories were returned and how immediately his entire demeanor changed.
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In the brief moments we see Gabriel prior to his memory loss, he's behaving differently from his S1 counterpart, who was a lot more rigid and laser-focused on Armageddon. Even Beelzebub seems a bit changed; that scene with Demon Josh is a great example. Granted, Beelzebub was more subdued/worried about Gabriel in that moment, but it seems like they'd grown a longer fuse and/or were less quick to anger/annoyance. Daydreaming can do that to a demon, I suppose.
I love this pairing; they're such a great example of how loving someone and being loved in return can bring out the "real"/best version of yourself. I'd totally read an entire novel about them. And can I just add once again that the visual cues were so well done? Not just the acting from Shelley Conn and Jon Hamm, who really brought a lot to the table (see what I did there) with their facial expressions and mannerisms, but the actual visual cues in each of these scenes: the way the two of them were gradually seen to be sitting closer until they were seated right next to each other; the shift in body language between meetings; the way they switched sides during each of the meetings we got to see, as opposed to Aziraphale and Crowley having dominant "sides" that we tend to see them on; etc. I could write an essay on this (more than I already have) so I'll have to stop myself now.
Anyway. Screenplays are neat, and it's fun to see how words and imagery combine to tell a much larger story. Of course, you need great actors to really bring it all home, and thankfully we've been blessed with many in Good Omens. Much love to Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn for their work here.
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solomons-poison · 8 months
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Miscommunications
Lucifer x reader
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: ̗̀➛ A/N: Well it only took ages but I finally have a Luci fic finished </3 I don't usually like miscommunication as a trope but I do really like the idea of there being such a big mixup about what's going on until everyone goes "ohhhhh" with a happy ending. This is very self-comforting... Anyway enjoy~
: ̗̀➛ Warnings: implied fem reader; poor/lack of communication, mutual pining, confessions, reader is a little bit dumb haha, talk of anxiety and self-doubt, angst to fluff, first kisses 💋; barely proofread, just take it
: ̗̀➛ Word count: 5158
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You never put much stock in finding the "tall, dark, and handsome" ideal in real life. Sure, there was the occasional person that somewhat fit these characteristics, but they never really caught your eye, somehow always being more generally attractive rather than truly attractive to you. But the moment your eyes landed on the Avatar of Pride, suddenly his face clicked into place in your little visual dictionary.
The demon was gorgeous, and he knew it. Long, lean body with broad shoulders and a slim waist, combined with his deep crimson eyes and dark hair streaked with gray; he was visually stunning to you, and certainly drew the eye of many an admirer wherever he went. You often found your gaze wandering to him when he was in the room, his presence alone sending your heart stuttering. It also didn't help that he knew exactly how to trip you up in other ways, the way he’d surprise you with a suggestive comment and the rumble of his deep voice making your heart pound for other reasons. He was particularly skilled in giving you the most brain-melting bedroom eyes you’d ever seen.
Besides his looks, he also knew how to act like a gentleman. You two had had your rough moments in the beginning, of course. You had quickly discovered his powerful anger and defensive nature, but you couldn't fault him for it when he was simply protecting his brothers. Once you broke through that shell, though, a loving, softer nature was apparent, one that enamored you and knew how to romance the hell out of you.
Unfortunately, that's what was tripping you up now. Ever since you'd gotten closer to Lucifer, the demon seemed to have some personal agenda out to charm you as much as possible. It started simple, giving you more compliments on your hard work than you thought necessary, paying attention to small details in your outfits, or bringing you little treats from his meetings with Diavolo. As time went on, the gifts increased in both number and value, as well as more time spent together. He would bring you more expensive or rare gifts such as perfume and limited-time baked goods from the Devildom's most popular bakeries. He began to invite you to the music room for what became weekly sessions of Demonus and a musical record, late at night when it was just the two of you. It was a rare moment where his walls came down and he openly talked with you about anything and everything, reminiscing on occasion about things his brothers would do in the Celestial Realm or passing on something funny that Diavolo had said. He even invited you to sit with him as he did his paperwork, the gentle sounds of pen scratching on paper filling the air when you couldn't think of what to say. It didn't matter that you had nothing to talk about, he assured you, he just enjoyed your company.
You couldn't begin to guess what you'd done to deserve this treatment, or how you managed to get so close to this powerful demon. Although you appreciated every gesture, it also left you nervous. It was almost inevitable that you developed feelings for Lucifer. Somewhere along the line, your respect for him and feeling of friendship had developed into deeper feelings, ones that made your chest ache and your heart beat faster when you thought of him. But you'd dealt with rejection before, and even worse, you'd been misled before, made to think someone liked you back only at your expense. Despite how close you'd gotten to Lucifer, you still couldn't tell what he was thinking sometimes, or how he felt. Perhaps he was only being nice, every gesture in good friendship simply for earning his and his brothers' trust. It also didn't help that your last relationship had ended after a long term, leaving you essentially new to the dating scene and completely out of your element. How were you supposed to move forward when you felt like you just essentially ended a marriage?
The final part that truly puzzled you was the "dates'' he would take you on. He seemed to dance around the word, always using some kind of synonym with you, which was why you were hesitant to label them as such yourself. Sometimes the “dates” were to restaurants, other times they were to the local shopping district. And when he took you out, he was always polite and the utmost gentleman, never touching you more than a guiding hand on the shoulder or upper back, pulling out your chair or pouring your drink, and conversation kept light and pleasant. Then, at the end, he always made sure to walk you to your door, thank you for indulging him, then give a satisfied smile before leaving for his own room. It was almost frustrating, trying to understand his intentions, and the last thing you wanted was to put a reason where there wasn't one, or overthink things that weren't actually happening.
But tonight, Lucifer had truly pulled out all the stops. He invited you to see a ballet in the Human World, La Bayadère, which in itself should have been a sign to you. The story was one of vengeance, justice, tragedy, but also fate and eternal love. Your doubts got the better of you, preventing you from fully absorbing the clues left around you. Perhaps if you’d thought longer on his choice of show, his true intentions would have been obvious to you, especially combined with what followed next.
Your heart almost stopped when he insisted on gifting you a fancy dress to wear to the occasion. It didn’t matter how much you complained that it was too much or that you could buy the dress on your own, the first-born wouldn’t stand for it. And for the icing on the cake, when he came to your door to fetch you, he gifted a bracelet that complemented the style and color of your dress, along with a bouquet of three roses. Although the number of roses seemed a little odd, you were too enamored by your companion’s looks to think more on the subject.
Lucifer himself was dressed in a gorgeous tuxedo, the lapels decorated with his signature peacock feathers, their rich blue and turquoise coloring setting off the redness of his irises. Another rose matching yours was placed in his breast pocket, and he'd also styled his hair a little differently, swept back out of his face. It was strange seeing him out of the usual fur-lined cloak and waistcoat, but certainly not in a bad way. You felt nervous being so dressed up, especially with someone as handsome as the demon beside you was, but a sweet smile lit up Lucifer's face as he took you all in, helping to ease your feelings a little.
As you two made your way to the ballet, finding your seats and settling in, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him, something he certainly didn't miss. To be honest, you were worried you'd be too distracted by his looks to watch the ballet. But as the show began, you thankfully got lost in the tragic yet romantic story, Lucifer leaning in occasionally to clarify parts of the story when you seemed confused, or telling you facts about the dancers themselves.
By the end, your mind was swirling, thinking of everything you'd seen and heard, reliving the evening for as long as you could. The two of you had arrived at the doorstep of the House of Lamentation faster than you would have liked, the outside lit up by the moonlight in the late hour. Neither of you could make a move to open the door beyond unlocking it, knowing the moment you did, all peace would likely be broken by the rambunctious brothers. And honestly, you didn't want to leave Lucifer's side just yet, wanted to find some reason to stay close to him like you were now, enjoy his presence and his attention a little longer. But you simply couldn't find a good excuse, at least not one that didn't make you feel needy and childish.
Little did you know that the tall demon beside you felt the same, though, his mind preparing his next words oh so carefully. For Lucifer felt the same, deep in love and trying so hard to figure out the words to make you stay by his side, to grace him with your presence for just a second longer.
He felt ridiculous sometimes, having lived for millennia yet these feelings made him feel young and inexperienced. It was embarrassing enough to have been found out by his colleagues so easily, Barbatos guessing his feelings in mere seconds when Lucifer had brought up the idea of the ballet in order to request the portal, and of course Diavolo instantly catching wind of the situation from his trusted butler.
Although he thought he was doing a good job of concealing his emotions from most others, his excitement over the date had given him away, something he never thought would happen. And now here he was, feeling the date was successful but lost on where to go from here, or better yet, how to make things progress. He hadn't spent all this time courting you the best way he knew how, just to fumble at the last second like an amateur.
Finally, Lucifer steeled his nerves and his eyes caught yours as he turned to look at you, admiring the way the moonlight lit up your features. There was a nervousness in your eyes that wasn’t there before, and it relieved him a little to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their nerves.
“Thank you for coming with me to the show, MC,” Lucifer said, a warm smile lighting up his face.
“Of course! Thank you for inviting me, it was amazing,” you gushed, a combination of nerves and excitement over the show causing you to speak faster than usual. “The story was so beautiful and sad, and I loved the music. I’m so glad we got to go.” It was impossible to keep the grin off your face, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much during the evening.
Lucifer couldn’t help but chuckle over your excitement.
“Good, I’m glad it was to your liking. That helps me decide on where some of our next outings should be. It certainly made for a very good end to this night.”
His implication made your cheeks warm. He wanted to go on more “outings” with you? Oh god. Was this a date? Did he see it as a date? Or were you overthinking things like usual, seeing something that wasn’t there? He probably just saw it as a fun time with a good friend, simply an enjoyable evening with someone whose companionship he tolerated, rather than some romantic venture. Of course he wouldn’t want to date someone like you, right?
As you had your silent breakdown, Lucifer pursed his lips for a moment before opening his mouth, taking one of your hands into his as a soft blush filled his cheeks.
“May I kiss you?”
You’d barely registered his touch on your hand before you realized Lucifer was speaking to you, the tall demon already leaning in a bit in preparation. A kiss? Of course you wanted him to kiss you, wanted to do that this whole time, if you were being honest. But as his query finally registered fully in your mind, registered what exactly that would mean, something snapped in your brain and you were reacting before you knew it.
As Lucifer’s face drew closer, a gasp tore out of you, all your nerves suddenly firing at once.
"NO!!!"
The sound echoed in the air– it came from you, you realized belatedly– as you snatched your hand back from his.
The force of your outburst caused you both to freeze, and your hand automatically came up to cover your mouth as you simply looked at each other in stunned silence. That certainly wasn't what you'd intended, but the damage was done. Lucifer looked shaken, obviously taken by surprise by such a forceful rejection. As he started to open his mouth, you couldn’t help yourself, the urge to flee the scene taking over all your senses.
“I— I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, before yanking the front door open and running inside.
“No, wait, I— MC! MC!!” he yelled after you, starting to follow you into the foyer. But you continued into the house and up the steps, not even turning back to look at him as you moved out of sight, leaving Lucifer to simply watch you vanish.
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Lucifer couldn’t help but lean back against the wall by the front door, looking in the direction you’d run, and a sharp ache filled his chest as he absorbed what had just happened.
Your loud “no” was ringing in his ears, shaking him to his core. To be honest, despite being known for his pride, he knew rejection was always a possibility. Many things were predictable in his life; he could often predict the actions of his brothers: when Mammon would pull another money-scheming stunt, or when Satan would try to pull some kind of curse-prank on him, or even Leviathan’s freak outs over his video games and idol events. Hell, he could often predict the actions of Diavolo, as unpredictable as the Young Lord could be sometimes. But humans seemed to be a different sport all together, as you always left him guessing. Still, it surprised him just how much your rejection hurt.
It was also just the adamancy of your rejection. He could expect to be turned down, but to that degree? He knew he’d made a mistake, that it probably seemed like he’d expected a kiss from you, and he was fully prepared to formally apologize to you later for it. But for you to yell like that, when you never even raised your voice to his brothers before… had he been misreading the situation the whole time?
He forced himself to get up and make his way to his room, eager to get out of his suit and make some tea to calm his nerves. But he couldn’t help but linger on the thought that it boiled down to: you didn't love him back. Why else would you have shut him down so clearly? He had thought he'd been making progress in courting you, had thought you'd even been receptive to it. He'd never felt more like an idiot.
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A week passed, and Lucifer still didn't get the opportunity to apologize to you or confront you. You kept communication to the bare minimum, short sentences or one-word answers where possible. If you two ended up alone together, you ran off as soon as you could. You'd even missed your weekly session of music and drinks, and it was telling when Lucifer didn't text you to check on you. You could tell your avoidance of him was hurting him, a resigned sadness lingering in his eyes anytime you saw him. You knew it was childish to keep avoiding the issue, but what were you supposed to do?
The others could tell something was up. It was obvious in the way they suddenly ceased most of their troublesome behavior, cautious in the way they approached either of you and otherwise left you to your own devices. Even Diavolo and Barbatos suspected something, sending separate messages inquiring if Lucifer was okay and if something happened, and you didn't know how to respond except requesting to give some time to explain later.
While Lucifer believed you declined the kiss on account of rejecting his advances— not that you knew this— the truth was that you were nervous. Nervous about exposing your feelings and becoming vulnerable, and nervous about realizing Lucifer may actually share your feelings, or at the very least sought something more than just a casual friendship. The realization completely hit you without warning when he'd asked to kiss you, and you'd reacted poorly because of it, unprepared to face your fears.
You needed to come clean to him, apologize for your outburst and be honest about why you'd run away. But the anxiety and the "what-ifs" filled your mind and overtook your reasoning. It haunted you to think that he may still reject you in the end, treat you like a toy or a joke like people have done in the past. Or what if this ruined your friendship? You'd spent so long earning his trust and gaining this level of friendship, so what if it was lost forever?
You couldn't help but sigh as you realized avoiding him now was ruining your friendship already.
It was too much to think of currently, and as you got ready for bed, you decided to head to the kitchen for a glass of water, something cool and refreshing to distract you for a moment. You turned the corner to go into the room but stopped in your tracks as you saw none other than Lucifer already standing at the counter, tending to a steaming tea cup. Your heart hurt just looking at him, and you immediately turned, hoping to get away before he saw you. But Lucifer's sensitive hearing picked up on your steps, and he instantly looked over in your direction.
He called your name, and your body stopped on its own, as if on command, to the sweet call of his voice. Your fight or flight response was itching to activate, and you did your best to ignore it. It was now or never, you couldn't keep running away. But damn if it wasn't so nerve-wracking to think about.
Steeling yourself, you slowly looked back at Lucifer. It was evident on his face that he was relieved you decided not to run away, at least not yet.
"MC, I apologize–" "I'm so sorry!!"
You both stopped, not expecting an apology from the other. Before Lucifer could continue, the words just burst out of you in a rush,
"I'm so sorry for the other night, I didn't mean to yell at you like that. I just wasn't expecting a kiss and it caught me off guard, but that's not your fault and I'm so sorry for yelling at you," you said, struggling to breathe at the end.
Lucifer shook his head, placing a rare uncovered hand to his chest in an act of sincerity.
"You have nothing to apologize for, MC," he said. "It is entirely my fault. It was my understanding Human World dates often ended with a kiss, but I shouldn't have assumed anything and checked with you first that you wanted as such. Instead, I made you uncomfortable with my assumption, and for that, I deeply apologize and hope you can forgive me." He bowed forward, the very image of chivalry.
“Oh, no, that wasn’t–” Date. Of course he would choose to use that word now. It echoed around in your brain for a moment before you could formulate a sentence, desperately trying to piece together the puzzle between you two and make sense of things. "Wait, ‘date’? Was this a date?"
Lucifer looked up from his bow, his brows furrowing together in mutual confusion.
"Uh, yes," he said slowly. "At least, that was my intention."
All you could do was blink owlishly at him.
"What— But. You never called it a date before."
Lucifer thought back on the times he'd invited you out and realized that may have been true. Perhaps he'd been self-consciously avoiding the term, to lower the chance of outright rejection? He never was the best at being direct when it came to you, and now it was all backfiring on him. Despite his age and his experiences, he still found himself acting like some young teenager around you. 
"For that, I apologize again. I should have been more transparent about my intentions, then," he said, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up on him that he tried to suppress. One thing still didn't make sense to him, and he wanted to address it while his wits were about him. "I do have to ask, have you not seen.. any of our outings as dates? Including the ballet?"
"Well… no, you never seemed to use that word and I thought maybe you were just being nice." Heat was filling the entirety of your face, your voice shrinking in on itself as you responded. Your feet had never felt so restless before, eager to run you straight out of the room.
Lucifer couldn't help it as his eyebrows quirked up. "Even when I brought you the bracelet and the roses?"
"N-no."
You never wanted to crawl into a hole more than you did now, especially as you heard a deep sigh across from you. You couldn’t even look at him.
"This will be the last of it that I bring up, and then I won't bother you anymore, but… was there a reason you didn't see them as dates? Were they not to your liking? Or perhaps… it’s me you don’t like?”
Your head was shaking before you knew it, vehement denial on your face, and your gaze snapped back to his.
“No, that’s not— I was just nervous!” you exclaimed. “The dates were fine, honestly! I actually really liked them!”
“So then why–”
“Because you’re hot, okay?!” you blurted out, the words now rushing out of you like a dam burst open. “I haven’t been asked on a date in years, so I got nervous, and I’ve been pranked before, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up and get hurt again or make things weird with you–” You realized too late you were rambling, your mouth snapping shut as you realized in horror what exactly you were saying, but there it was. All you could do now was wait on a response.
Lucifer couldn’t help it, a burst of pride erupted in his chest that you thought he was hot, and he had to stop himself from smiling like an idiot. More importantly, he caught the other part of your ramble. His protective side rose up immediately, angry at the thought that others deliberately tricked you with something so shallow, hurting you to the point that you had to doubt yourself and others on their true feelings. No one deserved such treatment, and he couldn’t help how defensive he got when it came to you.
He tentatively took a step forward and, not seeing you prepared to run, slowly drew closer to you.
“I’m sorry that people have been so awful to you in the past,” he said. “The people that did that were undeserving of your attention and your affections, I hope you know that. It was cruel what they did to you, and you never deserved that.”
You could feel your eyes start to burn, vision blurring slightly, but you fought the urge to cry in order to listen to him. The rational part of your brain knew he was right, knew that you hadn’t done anything to warrant being used and mocked like that. But your anxiety still ate at you, used those experiences to sour your expectations.
He took your hand, and when you didn’t take it back, his heart thrilled a little. What he was planning was a gamble, but he hoped it would be worth it as he took a deep breath and continued speaking. “Words cannot describe the influence you’ve had on my life since I’ve met you. You’ve had an incredible impact on my brothers and myself, helping us reconnect in a way that I feared was lost long ago. You've been reckless and fearless in your decisions, to the point that I’ve worried about your sanity.” His lips curved up when you pouted at him. “But that same recklessness and fearlessness may be what saved my family, and saved me. I don't think I will ever meet another human that affects me the way you do."
He gave you a moment to absorb his words, watching the gears turning in your head.
"I can understand now why you've had reason to doubt me," Lucifer continued. "But I promise to you that everything I have done, and everything I feel, is sincere. I will do whatever it takes to assure you of that."
"I-I believe you," you replied meekly. Your hand felt warm in his, but the presence was comforting. Maybe, just maybe, you could afford yourself this vulnerability. Lucifer's thumb began to rub across your knuckles, slowly at first, like he wasn't sure, but continued as you watched.
Lucifer couldn't help but smile, seeing you come around. He wasn't sure what he would have done if you'd run from him again, if his pride could have taken that, but now that he had you, he needed to seal the deal in the hopes that you'd stay for good. As he rubbed soft circles in your skin, he began the final move to secure you, just a few steps to take, really, but massive in scale, his racing heartbeat waiting to expose just how nervous he was.
The first step.
"Do you remember the number of roses I had brought you the other night?" he asked.
The question caught you off guard, the number of roses? You thought for a moment.
“Um. You brought me three of them, I think?” Lucifer smiled immediately, pleased about that. “Why?”
The second step.
Lucifer drew your hand up to his lips, pressing a single soft kiss to your fingers now. The action caused heat to spread in your chest, and you struggled to avoid staring at his lips as you anticipated another kiss, already distracted from the question you had asked.
“Do you know what three roses means, in the language of flowers?” he asked.
You couldn’t muster any words, simply shaking your head in response.
This time, a soft kiss pressed to the top of your hand, raising goosebumps on your arm. Lucifer’s eyes met yours, and the warmth and love in them took your breath away.
The third step.
“It means, ‘I love you’.”
“...Oh.”
The sound left your mouth before you could stop it, wobblier than you’d like. Those three powerful words sent goosebumps all throughout your body, your eyes widening and your mind going blank. Your brain was too busy short-circuiting to respond appropriately, your words temporarily lost to you. But Lucifer was okay with waiting for you to recover; he’d always wait for you.
His next kiss fell over your wrist before he leaned up, leveling himself with you. One of his hands holding yours intertwined with your fingers, and his other hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin gently.
The final step.
"May I ask if you return my feelings?"
You couldn't catch your breath, simply nodding your answer before realizing the poor demon was owed a better response than that.
“I do. I love you, too,” you replied, a grin working its way onto your face.
You wish your voice wasn’t so weak as you said it, but it made Lucifer smile regardless, a relieved sigh escaping him as his eyes briefly shut. The demon wasn’t even aware of the tension in his body up until that moment, and his shoulders relaxed, feeling like a weight had left him. He opened his eyes again to look at you once more.
“Now that we are, perhaps, on the same page, would it be alright if I kissed you?”
This time, a nod was suitable. Lucifer leaned forward, but hesitated just a moment before his lips could touch yours. Although your earlier rejection had been cleared up, hell you’d even accepted and returned his feelings, Lucifer’s wounded pride was still healing and making him second guess things. And you knew this, knew this mix-up was mostly your fault. And if you didn’t get to kiss Lucifer now, you’d always regret it.
You closed the gap before your anxiety could tell you to do otherwise and pressed your lips to his. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, but you stayed strong and were quickly rewarded as Lucifer relaxed against you and leaned into the kiss. After a moment, you prepared to pull away, but clearly your new lover's hesitation was gone as he pulled you back in, deepening the kiss and setting a fire in your belly. If you could have melted in his arms, you would have.
When Lucifer was finally finished with you– only because you really needed to breathe– your legs felt like jello, making you hold onto his body for support, and you couldn't help the giggle that came out. A product of your nerves, you supposed. But your sweet demon didn't mind, supporting you in his arms for as long as you needed. If the soft blush on his cheeks was any indication, he was much in the same position as you, anyway.
One of your hands was still in his, Lucifer’s fingers rubbing over your knuckles again softly. It was almost like he was memorizing the feel of your skin on his, as if he was afraid it would leave, before he stopped and looked at you. Never in a hundred years did you think you'd be here, in the arms of a demon and so deeply in love. Funny how life works.
“So, you think I’m hot, do you?”
Lucifer's question broke the comfortable silence, the demon watching you with a smirk on his face like the cat that got the cream. You clicked your teeth at him, pouting. Of course he’d pick up on that part of your panicked explanation.
“I knew I shouldn’t have said that,” you said, your face burning in embarrassment. Warm fingers gently took your jaw, tilting your head up to face Lucifer.
"Don’t be like that. I'm always happy to hear your honest opinion, my darling," he said, the pet name not helping your racing heart, and especially not the quick kiss he pressed to your lips as he held you there.
“I’m going back to bed if you’re just going to tease me,” you joked, starting to pull away. Truthfully, you were also a little unprepared for just how much sweeter Lucifer was being, the way he looked at you and casually slipping in a pet name being a fatal combination on your mental health. Bedtime seemed a good enough excuse to give your heart a little time to recuperate. But before you could make much progress, strong arms suddenly wrapped around you from behind, keeping you captive once more, and it was impossible to suppress the shiver in your body as warm breath touched the edge of your ear.
“Oh, love, you’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m letting you go anytime soon.”
You’re not sure your heart could take much more.
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happysparklingshadows · 9 months
Text
A Certain Hunger (1/?)
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Chapter 1 ✿ Chapter 2
Summary: The people-pleasing Valedictorian, a part of too many clubs, becomes closer to her school's soccer team at the end of her senior year. (Y/n) was always seen as the fat mousy girl in school that was always too kind, and with a mother at home needing to be taken care of, didn't go out much and never had the time to do normal kid things like parties. Her pursuit of having some fun before graduation starts with a party fight. It ends with her in a crashing plane, surrounded only by the girls that seem to always worry about her.
Warnings: 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Alcohol/drug use at a party, Femme WLW! Reader, Plus sized! Reader, Body-shaming (I promise it will not be done often) and perspective of an overweight girl, Depiction of a terminal illness and death of a mother,  General yellowjackets warnings, Possessive/Obsessive behaviors, Dark! Au (however, will be down the line when things get worse for the yellowjackets), All characters are 18 years of age, 18+ story. Um, also some teenage girls and peer-pressuring someone to go to a party if you wanna count that. 
Pairing: Surviving! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)
Taglist: @star-girl69​ @g1rlsriot @zhivaxo
Word count: 14.5k (Get a snack, drink, and settle in; you're in for a long night.)
Note: Hello! I have been such a massive fan of this show for almost two years, and I have been thinking about this concept for a long time. My idea was if someone was overweight before the crash, how would they be fair in this fight for survival, and what would happen if all the girls started falling for them over time. I have always had a guilty pleasure for Dark! Au or yandereish stories. I was inspired by @oh-so-vulgar’s "No Return" story. I can't recommend more for people to read! Hopefully, this will be a long fic, and I will be writing this as well as an Ellie Williams x reader story. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to comment and give me your thoughts! If you are interested, I added some visual ideas for the story and the looks for some outfits at the end! 
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Sometimes, things have been seen and heard without being lived. Most of the time, people think or talk about different ways they would be in a crisis. Ideas of surviving are separate from surviving.
You know that. You were one of the unlucky few to really understand what it meant to survive at all costs. 
Things that should have been hidden behind the trees, in the valley of mountains, with voices silenced long before man's first breath came to them to set it free. 
Surviving was the easy part for you; the living was the hard part. 
Blood to be split, fat to be rendered, and meat to be cut. The smell of metal and tears were familiar and comforting to you. Sometimes, walking down the aisle of the butcher, trying not to see the meat on display, the smell crept into your nose, and you felt at home. 
A home made up of girls and the wilderness's protection, with care and tenderness for them but bitterness and fear when near them. It was your home for so long, pings of the tragic circumstances consume and convets like witches dancing around a fire. 
You remember what happened to you. You remember how you ended up in the Canadian forest and stayed prisoner on those grounds for 19 months… 19 months without a choice. The only option was survival. To adopt and accept, even fawn, the wild.  
The memories plague the team, and you know that. You know that they still remember and know you as you approach your 43rd birthday. They think about you. And sometimes, you see them around Wiskayok and always find them watching you first. Sometimes you see them as they are, adult women with their own lives, or as teens before the darkness set in for all of you. But sometimes, when you catch their eyes, their darkness stares right back into yours… 
And you feel at home. 
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April 1996
The Yellowjackets passed the ball to defense by the teams’ midfield attacker, Allie Jacobs #11, before it was sent to the central midfielder, getting caught by the opposing team. Taissa Turner #8 then passed and kicked the ball…
Your hands write quickly on the pocket notebook on your lap in the crowd of screaming parents and students. Feverishly trying to remember the series of events, trying to remember if Allie dodged 2 or 3 players and if she passed the ball to Taissa before coming to center field of in the defenses field. 
"WHOO!! GO, YELLOWJACKETS!" Your eyes pop up when everyone screams louder, only to find that you missed the last goal from your writing, seeing the team hugging and happily cheering, "We're going to nationals!" 
"Holy shit!" You whisper to yourself as you stand up, clap frantically, and yell your celebrations for your friends. They are going to Nationals! 
A smile crept on your face as you looked at the team; you quickly grabbed the camera next to you and snapped photos of the team celebrating, feeling excitement for them and happiness. As the camera flash wears out, solidifying the moment of pride and unknown tragedy about to fall upon the team, you quickly leave the bleachers and go into the shower room to do the well-loved routine post-game interviews with the girls. 
"Fuck yeah, you guys!" You yell into the locker room as the door slams behind you, walking into the room with the heavy camera hanging from your neck and notes tightly held in your hand. The girls turn from their laughter and celebration together to beam at me. "You guys fucking did it!" 
Van laughed loudly as her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to the group. Lottie and Taissa were talking and stopped, letting you join it. Shauna and Jackie whisper at the end of the lockers, but Shauna waves at you, and you send her one back with a grin. It’s a little odd not being in their huddle and whispering with them, but things changed a lot in the last few years.
"How did we do?" Tai immediately asked you, her smile evident as she opened her locker. Lottie scoffed and rolled her eyes at Taissa. Van's arm was still resting on the curve of your back; her arm seemed to tighten around you for a second before letting go. 
"We fucking did amazing; that is how we did, Tai!" Lottie said as she looked at you, her green eyes scanning yours face quickly before looking into your eyes. You felt a pressure around Lottie, like she had seen right through you and knew all of your dirty secrets; you looked at your shoes before looking back. 
"I completely missed the ending. I was too distracted writing about Allie passing the ball to you." You say to Taissa, her eye shine when you two make eye contact, but a flinch in her lower lip shows her disappointment that you missed the game's ending. 
"Oh, well, Allie lost the ball. I caught it, then I passed it to Jackie. I hit it too hard, so it went high. I thought I lost the game, but Jackie hit the ball with her head into the Goalie." Taissa explained as she grabbed her clothes in her hands; she looked at you as the other two did the same, waiting for you to tell them how they did. 
You smile brightly and fake how impressed you are, playing it up for the girls, as you say with excitement. "Holy shit, I can't wait to write it! It was such a fucking epic game. I guess you guys are going to Seattle! I am so fucking excited for you guys!" 
"Well, aren't you coming?" Lottie cut through. She looked at you with a furrowed brow of confusion. Her arms cross her chest as she looks to the ground, away from me. An annoyance in the air of her tone. "I thought you were coming to take the photos or whatever?"
You feel a wave of fear of disappointing them as you look at your hands; they nervously touch the black camera. "I-i don't know yet. Everything with my parents is so hard to do because they're so old, you know." You say, trying to keep it lighthearted. 
"You never do anything fun!" Van complained as she moved away to her locker now; feeling her absence and lack of heat to your side made you feel even more like you were disappointing the girls. "All you do is work! You do homework, your pictures, and work at Handies. When do you have fun?" 
"Yeah, I haven't seen you at any parties?" Jackie butts in as she and Shauna finally come to their lockers after conspiring in the corner. "Why? Do you not want to be seen with us?" She asks with a dry snort, reminding you of your place in the team's hierarchy. A welcomed outsider. 
You quickly, nervously chuckle, and look at your shoes, not daring to look up. "No, it's not that, Jackie. You guys are my friends, and I would love to party with you all, but-" 
"But what?" Taissa snipped shortly at me as she closed her locker. It seemed almost too aggressive for the matter at hand. Your eyes widened as she looked at you intensely like you were doing them all wrong for not hanging out with them more. You feel yourself folding under pressure. You think you are making your friends mad and can't help it. You wanted to have fun, and they should believe you, but you knew you were never to be seen outside of school and your job at the hardware store.
"It's my mom. You know, the cancer and everything has made it harder for me to get out, but she is doing better." You said as a tight smile came to your lips to try to stop yourself from speaking but failing. "We've-" You stopped yourself from saying the words that always brought tears to your eyes. Luckily, Lottie sees this and knows a little more than the others about everything, from her own prying and questioning, so she saves me by saying. 
"It's okay. We understand that." She says with a kind voice, the tone she always used to reassure everyone, and looks each girl in the eye. Telling them to back off from you. 
You need to fix the awkward tension, not yet realizing that you don't need to always make them happy. You feel the deep urge to be accepted by them. You wanted them to want to be friends with you more and keep being your friend as school ended, you already knew it was a fool's errand, but you couldn't stop the words coming out of your mouth. 
"I think I will go to Randy's party next week. I don't work, and my dad is home; it's perfect!" You smiled at the other girls, hiding the reluctance. 
It was not perfect. You planned on studying for your honors English test that night and rereading the novel for the exam in May. But you didn't want to let the team down again by not going out. 
You come off nervous, and you know that. You know they see the weakness in your words, but they smile all the same understanding they got you to finally say yes. Their eyes soften, and they start to smile again at me. 
"What are you wearing? You need to find yourself a boyfriend." Jackie asked as she looked over to Shauna, who was quietly standing in the group without talking, Shauna's warm brown eyes already looking at you as if she hadn’t moved her eyes in a while. You feel your face warm at the question, a shot of disgust and shame running through you at the thought of picking up a guy, but you smile shyly anyways.
"I don't really know yet. I don't go to parties-" 
"How about we all help you get dressed up? You come to my house with your clothes, and we all can help (Y/n) dress for the party; how do we feel, Yellowjackets?" Jackie asks, cutting me off and looking at the other girls for confirmation. You feel your hands start to get sweaty at the thought of it. You are already insecure at the idea. In childhood, you were talking to the Yellowjackets. You couldn't say no.  
"O-oh!" You say as you feel your body shield yourself, faking a smile smoothly to hide your fear. "Thank you, I would love that. Shauna, could you pick me up? My dad will not drive me to a party." 
Shauna smiled sweetly at me, nodding, "Yeah, but you need to get your license." 
You let out a soft chuckle again as you grab your backpack. You keep trying to flee before you say something else. You give your best smile to the girls and Shauna. "Thanks. I'm trying, but It's the only test I have failed!" You joke, walking out of the locker room. "I'll see you guys at practice Monday!" 
You get a series of goodbyes from the senior girls and walk past the underclassmen with a wave and smile. Marissa and Krystal wave back at you. Allie doesn't notice you as she is talking in the ear of the quiet Junior Akilah. They seemed friendly but so young when you spoke to them, even if you were a few years older. 
You look to your feet as you walk out of the locker room and into the dark hallway of the sports building towards the double doors on the other end; the spring light and sunsetting beams light into the hallway. You keep walking away from the loud muffled sounds of the team laughing in the locker room.
BANG! 
You're head snaps behind you quickly at the loud sound of a broom falling to the ground; you look down the darkened hallway to find the short figure of a person. You knew who it was, and you felt a shiver go down your spine as brown eyes set on your form.
Misty Quigley stood behind a wall and accidentally pushed the broom resting on the wall down. The blonde stood with her hand clenching the wall with her chin resting on her hand; she was looking down the hall you were going down. She jumped back at the sound and nervously looked back at you. She looked like she was peeking down. 
"Misty! Jesus, girl, you almost gave me a heart attack!" You proclaim down the hall to the blonde. You kept your voice as friendly as it could be. Your hand comes to your chest to hold your rapidly beating heart. 
Misty readjusted her wide glasses on her nose with her hand, a little quirk you noticed over time, and she blinked her eyes rapidly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! I-I was just coming over to-" 
"Misty, It's all good! Don't worry so much!" You said with a smile, deciding to leave this place as soon as possible. The air was tense in a way that you couldn't put down, not really believing Misty but not wanting her to know that. "I'm heading out. My dad is waiting for me in the truck. Sorry, I squealed." You joked to her as you started to walk back to the doors. 
She was always kind to you; out of principle, you were kind back. It didn't matter that she would talk your ear off about the teams jerseys or different cat breeds. You always gave her an ear when you were near her, and the opportunity opened by you. It always felt awkward around Misty without saying hi and being kind. You knew how people saw her and understood why they sometimes acted the way they did with her. You felt the weight of her unsettling gaze and overbearing nature when she never took your nos to her requests of hanging out without trying to pressure you into it. However, she didn't have the pull like the other girls did with you. You pitied her and felt the need to be nice to her because of how mean people have been to her unjustified. Even when it was hard to ignore her ways sometimes. 
"O-oh, don't worry, you made a pretty squeal!" Misty recovered with a voice you could tell she put honey on, and you felt your skin itch at that. Why did she say it like that? 
"See you Monday, Misty!" You say as you quickly open the doors to the building and rush out of there as soon as possible. Seeing your dad's car and you run over, knowing your shift at Handies, the hardware store, would start quickly. 
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You walk down the street with the lights guiding you home. You held your purse strap while holding your house keys in hand, not caring about the nighttime setting as you have walked home from work every night. You smoke the short cigarette before coming to the house, knowing your mother can't smell anymore, as you throw the butt to the ground. Stepping on it in your stride. You quickly come to your house, open your door, and walk inside. 
Across the street, the shallow pants of a girl rustle behind the pine tree from the house right across the way. Fingers grip the tree with the knuckles turning white with pressure; intense, sharp eyes look at you. A small happy giggle emerges as your body vanishes into the suburban home. You still do not notice them after they follow you through the town and park, trailing behind and changing paths to see you get home safely. "Goodnight, (Y/n), goodnight." the voice says under their breath as she saunters from the tree back to their home. Like they did every night you worked. 
The warm light of your childhood home surrounds you as you close the door behind you. You take off your shoes and coat, saying, "I'm home!"
"Good, Good. (Y/n), I've missed you today." Your mother says from the living room. You walk in and see the tv playing the new episode of Frasier, the colorful glow from the tv light consumed the living room with life. "Turns out Frasier has a lot of stations around America, and he is making the radio show national. It's ridiculous." She said with a dry chuckle at the end, her voice rasping as she looked at you. You push the hair behind your ear as you walk closer to her. 
Your mother and father were in their 40s when they had you. They were convinced they would never have children, but you came as a welcomed and loved surprise to the couple. Although they weren't young to play with or chase after you, they always found ways to connect with you. Your mother was a hippie at Woodstock, always claiming she met Janis Joplin backstage, and wanted you to feel loved by her. However, like most mothers, she did have her moments of bitterness. Your father is not so much a hippie. He was a challenging and rigid man who took you out to national parks and fished with you in the summer on the ocean with the small boat he saved up for. Your father was more a man set in his ways; in how his father raised him, he was more distant and worked a lot. Although it was clear that they both loved you, it doesn't stop the fact that they hurt you intentionally or unintentionally, and you feel distant from them. It wasn't fair, and it eats at you. Your parents were good people, but life isn't fair. 
In your junior year of high school, your mother was diagnosed with stage 4 cervical cancer, and it felt like your world flipped upside down. Your father wasn't home much anymore, scared to see his wife slowly disappearing from the therapies and medicine, working every night out of "Bills need to be paid, (Y/n), what do you want from me?". You sat in the living room as your mother whispered to your father at the table, them talking about how they would tell you, not knowing you silenced the tv to hear them. As you silently cry, your heart is torn, ripping in the middle with small muscles connecting the two. 
Your mother was given 8 months to live. You didn't choose to become your mother's caretaker, but you didn't feel like there was any other way to be anymore. You couldn't let your mother feel alone as she died. You knew that she must be more scared than you were. So, there you were for her as you did your homework and ran back home to make sure she took her medicine before going in for a closing shift. You didn't want her to be alone in her last few months. It felt wrong. You blamed yourself somehow. Angry and bitter at the world, you decided to hide behind a mask of being strong. You knew your parents were old, constantly reminded of the fact with their groans and cracks, and you knew it was more than average for women in their 60s with infertility issues to get cancer. You helped your mother move, dress, eat, and sleep. Nothing you could do to shake her in your mind. You comforted your mother as her hair fell out and when she said she was now ugly, you gave her a straw with her drinks even when her throat was strong enough to sip, and you never forgot to tell her you love her with every goodbye. Times of medicine burned in your mind, and the fear of her being in pain pushed you through the months. Believing she would die any day as she lost all her weight, color, and life. She lay on the hospital bed in the living room with her hands weakly lying on the pillows you placed under them. Her breaths never seemed to calm as they raddled when she slept. 
As of tonight, it has been a year and three months since her diagnosis, and your mother's face has gained more color every day in the last few months. We knew she wouldn't live long, but at least it was longer. 
You sat down in your father's recliner next to the hospital bed she lay in, her bed table over her fragile body with an embroidery circle in her hand. A smile comes over your face as you grab the pill organizer, pull out her nighttime pills, handing them to her as your eyes keep looking back to the tv. "I'd rather watch Friends." 
"Well, that is because you are young. You don't understand the comedy yet." She said with a smirk, shaking her bold head to you. She puts the pills on the small table, her thin fingers working a red string through the white fabric. She looks down at her work with her reading glasses at the bottom of her nose, "I'm making a robin." 
I look over her shoulder at the half-finished red bird. You smile. You subtly grab her glass of water on the coffee table and put the metal straw inside, handing it to her. 
Your mother sighs as she puts the 9 pills in her mouth and the glass from you, sipping on the straw dramatically. She opens her mouth to you in an annoyed act. "Happy?" 
"Very. How was your night?" You asked her as you got up and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, your dinner on the island. 
"Alright, your father is working late. I made some fish tonight." She says loudly back to you. You already walking back to the living room. You sit back down on the recliner and set the dinner on your lap. "How was school?" 
"It was good. The Yellowjackets won the game, and John was nice to me tonight, which is weird, but happy he was anyways." You say as you start cutting into your meal with your fork, eating politely in the chair. 
"That's good that he was nice for once. I don't like that guy."
"You just don't like him because he yelled at me like one time." 
"That's enough to not like someone." Your mother bluntly said with a chuckle. You chuckle back as both of your attention come back to the tv. 
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The following week of school, work, and clubs blended the days together. You came to school on Thursday, the night of the rush party at Randy's parents' summer house, and it was all you could think about. You dreaded it slowly because of the unfamiliar setting of a party, but you decided to have fun. "Just have fun, (Y/n)!" you repeatedly tell yourself when you want to cancel. 
You were walking into the school's center, crossing to get your camera to go to practice. You were surprised to see the seniors together, you smile as you walk into the conversation, but it drops as soon as you come to the circle. 
"This is what we've worked for all season." Taissa hissed, defensiveness and ambition speaking through her at Lottie and Natalie. "You really wanna take that chance?"
"Yeah," Natalie responded curtly. "'cause I'm not a fucking asshole."
"Why are you guys talking about?" Shauna asked. I look over at her, and she looks over at me; she asks me with my eyes as she walks into this conversation. I shrugged at her in our small exchange of information.
There was a pause and moment of silence that fell upon the group. No one is willing to answer the question.
Finally, Lottie spoke, her hand behind her neck. "Allie." She says awkwardly as she seems unsure what to say after confessing. Shauna looked over to her as I looked at Tai, who refused to look me in the eye. 
"What about her?" Shauna asks.
"Did you black out at states?" Tai scoffs. "She totally choked-"
"She's a freshman, Tai," Natalie cuts in.
"She's a liability," Tai snapped. Her eyes scan all of you, trying to find support for her decision. "She can't screw up if she doesn't get the ball."
"You wanna freeze her out?" Shauna asks.
"At least we'd know what we're working with," Tai says.
"She kind of sucks, but…." Lottie trails off with her eyes looking over to Allie across the way, unaware of the plans for her. "I don't know."
"That's because it's bullshit," Natalie says, her voice filled with disbelief, her hands raised up.
"Oh, yeah? What's your plan, then?" Tai asks in mock interest.
Natalie drops her hands. "I don't know. Play like a fucking team and win?"
Now, both are entirely silent as they stare the other down. You feel your hands grow clammy as you think the confrontation getting to you, you hated being in the middle of these things, but you handled yourself raising a voice. 
"It's worked so far."
"Everything works until it doesn't."
She looks Natalie up and down.
"And for the record, you smell… like a wino. Get your shit together."
You feel yourself grow a face of disgust for Taissa when she says that to Natalie. To you, it seemed utterly disrespectful. 
"You know what? Fuck this."
"Wow. Okay," Tai says. You turn your body to Tai as you finally look her in the eye. 
"That was completely uncalled for, Tai." You say with your tone coming out for meek than you were hoping. "Natalie has a right to not agree with you, and you just offend her when she doesn't back down. Seriously uncool, dude." 
Taissa's eyes look hurt from your words like she had been yelled at. It's clear that your comments got her, but Lottie says to us before following after Natalie, "Doesn't feel right." 
"Jackie's not gonna like it," Shauna says.
"Then we probably shouldn't tell her," Tai responded quickly as her eyes were fixed on you, scanning and watching every micro-expression on your face. You look to your feet; you didn't like the energy of all this, and Tai excluding Jackie, gave you a bad taste in your mouth.  
Tai walks off suddenly, leaving you and Shauna to turn and look at each other after walking into that chaos. 
As the two walked away, Shauna smiled as she walked with you to the yearbook room. She was asking once again if her college entrance letter was okay. You almost completely forget about the discussion about Allie when Shauna nervously questions if she sounded smart enough in her paper. 
"Shauna, your paper was amazing. It was heartfelt but formal and mature. We went over that thing three times; we even got that movie from Blockbuster that the tutors have. You. Are. Fine." You stated with a playful tone, slightly annoyed at her nervousness but just playing it off like always. 
"I know, but it is Brown!"
"Shauna, you are second to Valedictorian and got a 34 on the ACTs! You will get in. Trust the universe on this one." You reassure and smile. Putting the camera around your neck, you lock the door behind you.
"Okay, okay, I'll try." 
"Good. You will get in, and if you don't, you will go to Ken State with Jackie." You say and put an arm around her shoulder as you walk to the field. 
You only remember a little from that last practice day. You sat down on the benches like you always do, said hello to Misty and the Coach, and started to write a few words into your notebook for your graduation speech. 
You have had difficulty putting down the words about how you felt about leaving high school. Like, what would happen to you? To your friends? It scared you, but you didn't know how to say that, and you didn't have enough nerve, to be honest with how you wanted to stay there longer somehow. Not high school, but the comfortable and carefree life that you had in high school. 
You bit your lip as you tried to focus, but soon a blood-curdling scream came to the field. You look up and see Misty sprinting across the area to Allie on the ground, holding her leg. She wails loudly as she cradles the bleeding wound on her leg. You look closer and see a sharp broken bone poking out of her skin, blood sliding down the curve of her leg, landing on the grass. 
Your hand comes to your mouth, and you feel yourself feel disguised. Disguised by the blood, wounded cries, and disgusted by Taissa. You know deep down that she would never intentionally hurt the freshmen girl, but she had bad intentions. You just didn't think she would go this far. 
You grab your things quickly from around you as you look away from the girl. Away from the yellowjackets swarmed around Allie. You felt sick as you run away from the field and from the responsibility of this accident.
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"Peanut, can you come in here?" You hear your mother call from her hospital bed in the living room. You come down the stairs with a bag full of clothes for Jackie to dress you later. 
"Yes? What's up, Mom?" You say softly as you come down the stairs. You come to the living room doorway. 
Your mom sat in the hospital bed with the tv turned off, her reading glasses perched low on her skinny nose. She had a paper and pen on the bedtable and a couple bills. Your eyes widen at the amount you see. It's the price of groceries. "Come in here with me for a moment. I have been meaning to talk to you." 
You quiet and move to sit in the chair next to her. You felt nervous as you sat down. You didn't know why you would be in trouble, and you hadn't done anything in so long that you did understand why she would sit you down. You couldn't stop the nerves with your eyes.
Your mom chuckles as she takes her glasses off. She then looks at her hands with a long pause. "(Y/N), I have taken a lot from you. I am really sorry."
"You don't have to-" 
"No, I am sorry. Truly am because this is supposed to be the time of your life, and you have been caring for me. And I can't thank you enough, baby, for caring for me." Your mother choked up in the moment of genuine reflection. She cupped her mouth as she tried to hide the quivers and how her cheek grew hot from her emotions. "I wanted to say that I signed the slip for you to go to Seattle with the bumblebees or whatever. Your dad gave me $65 to give you. I want you to get yourself-
"Mom, I can't. Who is going to take care of you?" You interrupt her, and you feel yourself get emotional. You shouldn't go, the money should be used for bills, and you should be home with your mom. 
"No, you are going. I want you to have fun. You have been taking care of me nonstop since the beginning. Okay, let me take care of you, just this last time." She reassured. She pushed a baby hair off your forehead, tears in both eyes, "You have worked so hard and have been such a grown-up. I don't like it. I just want you to do something fun for once. If I was 18, I would have begged my mom to let me go to Seattle with all my little friends. It's all settled. All you have to do is give this to that coach and pack a bag."
She slides the folded paper and the money on top. She smiles as she wipes a tear that rolls down her thin cheek. "Peanut, I really want you to go on this field trip. Please, let me do this for you. Dad will take care of me. We already figured it out. It's only 4 days. Just do it for me." Your mom says again, trying to pressure you into accepting her words and killing your worries.
You nod your head with tears in your eyes. You were so happy to be given a break and to be allowed to spend so much on yourself. You feel so excited and light, but there is dread building in your stomach. 
"Okay. I will. I really wanted to go."
"I know. It will be so much fun, but please stay away from those spring break guys, okay. All they are is body oil and semen." She said as she pushed another hair behind your ear this time. She doesn't know you wouldn't be talking to any man. She didn't know that her daughter wasn't right. 
You chuckle and wipe a tear. You push her hand away and stand up. "Okay, I will stay clear of spring breakers." You say you feel your pager buzz in your pocket. You pull it out to see your pager flash dully with "Shauna Shipmen, 473-299-0876." 
"Shit, my ride is over. I am sleeping over at Shauna's tonight-"
"Baby, have a good time at the party." Your mom said as she turned the Tv back on with the remote. She looks at you with a mischievous glance. "You think I never had a change of clothes before a party? Honey, you don't have to sleep over anywhere. Just come home when you are done. You should better get out of here before your father comes back. He will smell you out within a minute."
You laugh nervously at her. You rush to get your shoes on before she doesn't act so cool; you tie your boots quickly as you leave the house to Shauna's car. "I love you; see you later, Mom." 
"See you later, Peanut." 
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You nervously hold the red solo cup as you hover around Van at the rush party. You couldn't hear much over the noise and music; you didn't mind as you let yourself melt into the party. You danced slightly with the girls as you sipped on the beer in the cup. You were trying to be fun. 
You came to this party with Shauna and Jackie because Jackie’s constantly insisted that she needed to help you dress, and you had to admit you looked lovely. You were planning on wearing just some jeans and a top, but Jackie made you wear a thin turtle neck with a pink dress, flowers faded in the design, with tights and boots. You let Shauna do you're makeup because Jackie got to dress you. Shauna's big brown eyes stared at your face, softly brushing powders and rubbing eyeliner. You felt her breath hit your lips as she focused on your mascara, her eyes noticed your stare, and it made her pause. Jackie quickly broke the forming heating with our eyes from her, pulling out an ugly cat sweater you had hidden in your wardrobe. You hid your shaking breath by laughing and saying your dad found it for you. You only wear it to bed. "I would look like misty or something?" You joked and immediately felt bad as you all laughed, you felt terrible for bringing Misty up to laugh about her, but you wanted to hide. 
When you got to the party, Jackie and Shauna left you to go into their worlds with Jeff's friends. You wandered around until You found Lottie and Van. You came to hover around your friends. They smiled at you and handed you a new solo cup of beer. You sip on it and smile at them. Lottie and Van giggle and look over at you, Van pulling you into their space with a firm hand on my shoulder. 
"We're going to go to the woods, come!" Van says to you in your ear, her nose slightly nudging your skin from the closeness. You feel nervous in your stomach as your hands clam up around the plastic cup, and your face gets hot from her breath, hitting your neck softly. You follow Van with a nervous giggle, unaware of how the girls are feeling and looking at you. Lottie follows behind you, her eyes locked at the back of your head as she studies how you styled your hair. She wondered if she got closer to what the strands felt under her fingers and what it would smell like. Soap, sweat, or was it just you and your own scent. 
Van stops you, and Lottie comes to your left with a huge smirk. Van pulls a joint out of her pocket as she presents it to you. Your eyes widen with a beam. "Oh?"
"Oh indeed!" Van said back with a smile; she put it in her mouth as she looked over to Lottie for a lighter. Lottie shook her head as she looked at you. 
As soon as the papery filter lands on your lips, you see the figure come behind Van with an arm wrapping around her shoulder. You look up to see Taissa and feel your lips pursed without you doing anything. Taissa was so wrong for the whole Allie situation, and you felt conflicted. 
"Not going to say Hi to me?" Tai asked mockingly, but you knew under it all she was insecure. 
You pass the joint to Lottie as you blow the smoke. "Hi." You flatly say to Tai. 
"Come on, not you too-" Tai scoffed as she stood more straight. Tai seemed insecure, and you could see how she was getting defensive. 
"Tai, I am not judging you. I understand why you did it; you explained yourself well the other day. I know you didn't mean to hurt her like you did." You say as you feel the group has tension between them. Van and Lottie awkwardly look at each other to communicate their uncomfortable energy. Tai keeps her eyes trained on you as you speak your mind. "Tai, I, and We know that you would never hurt her intentionally to have her bone pop out. But it happened, and you planned to get her out of the Nationals. You need to apologize to her when we return from nationals." 
"(Y/n), maybe we don't need to talk about this right now? Maybe we just party tonight and worry tomorrow?" Lottie cuts in, and you feel yourself get annoyed at that. You quiet down as the joint comes back to you. 
"I said my mind." You said, sounding more confident than you were. You nervously look at Tai, who is quiet and looking to the ground. "Tai, We're friends, and I don't think I would be a good one for letting you off the hook for that. I care too much to let that go. You might have destroyed Allie's ability to play ever again because you got too ambitious." 
"I know. It was an accident." Tai said, still looking at the ground. You felt her shame in herself at that moment as her lip slightly quivered as she spoke. 
You take a puff of the joint and hand it to Lottie. You then step into Taissa's space and hug her quickly. "Hey! I know that. I am just saying it was just bad vibes all around. I know it was an accident." You reassure, now feeling horrible for talking about it all together. 
Van takes a deep puff of the weed and makes a face as she tries to keep the smoke in her lungs. As she nods her head, you're eyes lock into her as Tai's arms wrap around your waist. Van's red eyebrow furrows briefly before Tai's hair blinds you. "Okay. I just feel like shit, you know." 
"I know. I don't mean to make it worse." You say to Tai's ear. As you squeeze your friend, you know you will be the nicest to her when the others confront her. You let your eyes go to Lottie, who knew about all this; you knew that Van was probably thinking I was being hard on Tai for no reason. 
You take the joint passed to you as she smokes it; Tai sniffed, putting back the tough act as she touched her nose with a finger. You felt like you couldn't look away from her now. “(Y/n) (L/n) smokes weed?” Tai asked in a snarky tone. 
"Yeah, and crack, but no one has presented it yet, so." You joke with a goofy smile coming to your face against your control. The weed coming over you as you start to giggle, Van and Lottie following suit. "Oh, my god!" You gasped as you looked at the other high girls.
"What?" Lottie asked with big eyes, paranoid. Van laughs again at Lottie's face, leaning onto Taissa's shoulder. 
"You guys are doing drugs before nationals!" You laugh out loud. 
"Oh shit!" Van says as if she just realized it as Lottie cackles. 
You felt yourself space out a bit; you looked into the woods further as Taissa started to tell the girls off for getting distracted. You let the noise muffle as you stare into the darkness of the trees, not seeing beyond 20 feet ahead of you; although the sight was unsettling, it seemed to lull you as well. Grounded you. The memories of childhood with your parents in national parks and your dad forcing you to face the darkness were a comfort. One of your favorite memories was so simple; Two years before your mother had cancer, you all went out to the Rocky Mountain Trail on vacation, You and your dad were fishing, and your mother was sitting beside you both with her feet in the water, your dad was just spitting out the worse jokes and puns he could think of, and you both tried not to laugh. You all broke when your dad when silent and simply won by farting. 
You feel your lips curl to smile at the memory of your family as Lottie's hand curls into your elbow; you turn to her. 
"(Y/n), I want a cigarette. You want a cigarette?" Lottie says with an airy tone, her eyes wider than average. You knew she was very high as you giggled. 
"You know what?" You said as you opened your purse, pulling out the pack. 
"Holy shit, you smoke cigarettes, too? What else does our Doris Day do behind closed doors." Van jokes dryly. You couldn't help but smirk as you light your cigarette. 
"You're a dick, you know what," you say as you hand the cigarette to Lottie; she says a soft thank you as you pull another to your lips. "What do you think I do while I write?" 
"I don't know, maybe write?" Tai says as she drinks from her solo cup. 
You roll your eyes, looking at Lottie, "What do you say we lose these losers?" You joke to her with a smile. 
She smokes the cigarette as her eyes scan over your face quickly. Her eyes look to your lips and sharply look up as she says, "I thought you'd never ask." 
"Hey, what the fuck!" Van asks, mocking offended as the two of you walk away from them. You and Lottie hold hands and laugh. You loved the playful way Lottie walked away with you like you were running away together. Your hands are linked together as you get closer to the music and back to the party's life. 
You pursed your lips as you started dancing when you felt the music. "Fuck, I love this song!" You say to Lottie as you bring the cigarette to your lips. 
Lottie puts the cigarette in her mouth as she takes your hands with hers to dance together, which you do without question. It felt like the music was dancing through you, and you weren't really dancing, not caring how your body moved or how other's see you. It was fucking liberating to dance with your friend in the spring breeze, weed in your lungs, and a cigarette in your mouth.
Van and Tai come out of the woods a moment later, smiling together and their hands touching, but quickly moving away as they come to where you were. You caught them, and they didn't notice; you're happy they did. You felt something close to bitterness when you thought about how much you wanted that. You have kissed a few girls, but not one wanted to be with you; they claimed they weren't "that type of girl. I am normal." they soon pushed you away to never see the girl that made them feel something more. You just became a memory for them, and you were replaceable. You were well kept a secret. 
You wanted someone. But you also wanted to be accepted. You would never admit it, but you sometimes thought about maybe just finding some nice guy and giving it a try at being "normal." Kissing boys felt flat, sexless, and odd when you spun the bottle at parties, but in those dark corners where you were pressed against a wall by a woman, it felt like fire. It was warm and bright, making you see clearly and freely, but it burned. It burns like wax, something shocking and hot, something warm and sensual, but it soaks in and scolds after a while. So, in your junior year, you decided to stay single until college because you couldn't imagine the people in your hometown finding out you were gay. You felt a hot wave of dread when you thought about it, not that you were ashamed or accepting because you knew how everyone saw gay girls. You wouldn't be able to go into the locker room anymore with your friends, you wouldn't be able to go to sleepovers, and you wouldn't be able to touch even your friends. 
You feel sober quickly at the moment of overthinking. You look around and realize you forgot your solo cup of beer, so you just say to Lottie, "I'm getting a drink." 
"Okay!" Lottie said with a chuckle; she took a deep drink from her solo cup. 
You stumble away as you feel a sadness come over you; insecure thoughts and memories of scorned love affairs go to you now. You come to the keg in the middle of the party, and you lean over the keg to the plastic cups. 
A hand lands on your hip, rubbing the skin as it gently moves to your lower back. You look to see Taissa and feel your breath get stuck in your mouth. You look up at the tall girl with a softness; you know she would never really do something so cruel, like meaning to hurt Allie like that. At least, that is what you told yourself.  
"I admire your resilience, Tai. It can't be easy, knowing fucking crippled someone today," Shauna says to Taissa when she walks to the keg. You snap your head to Shauna, hoping she didn't notice how your eyes looked at Taissa's face. Shauna did notice; it was the reason for her coming up to the two of you in the first place.
"Cool. Good talk." Tai says back to her, and she moves away with an arm around your shoulders. 
"Just admit it. You did it on purpose!" Shauna yelled at Taissa, pointing her finger at Tai. You looked at Shauna with wide eyes as you felt Taissa's arm hold you tighter. 
"Excuse me!" 
"You heard me. "
"You're wasted," Tai says to Shauna with a judgmental narrowing of her eye. 
"And you're a fucking sociopath!" Shauna hissed back; you pulled away from Taissa and looked at both girls. 
"Woah!" Van cut in. "Calm down." 
"Yeah, let's just take a breath, Shauna; why don't we-" you try to say and keep the peace but are interrupted. 
"No! Listen, you guys, we don't have to worry about the Allie problem anymore because Taissa fixed it for us." Shauna mocked, her hands up in fake surrender as she narrowed her eyes at Taissa. The two were going to fight. 
"What?" You heard Laura Lee say behind you. "What is she talking about?" 
"She's talking about Taissa's little plan." Natalie chimed in from the back; you lock eyes with her as you look to her to explain why Shauna is aggressive toward Taissa. She doesn't know. 
"Oh, please. Since when do you give a shit anyways? Don't you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck-" 
"Holy shit, Tai, Why would you say that to her!" You yell at Tai as Shauna says at the same time, "Don't talk to her that way!" 
"Oh, fuck off, Shauna, I don't need you to defend me; last time I checked, you were fine with the whole "freeze her out" strategy." Natalie spat back, she held a cup, and her eyes looked more dilated than more in flames. 
"Okay, seriously, what are you talking about?" Laura Lee asked the group; you felt annoyed at her prying, but you didn't say anything before the others growled, "Shut the fuck up, Laura Lee!" 
"No, no, no; stop it!" Van panics when she sees the tears in Laura's eyes. You move over to the sweet girl, and you wrap an arm around her, "Hey, they didn't mean it." You say to her tearful self as you hear the fight continue. 
"Someone needs to take her wasted ass home!" Tai yells to Shauna. 
"You wanna say that again bitch. Say that again." Shauna growled back; you moved away from Laura Lee and got into the middle of the two girls, now trying to claw at the other, with Van. 
"That's it! That is enough!" Jackie runs in; she yells at all of us, starting to fight each other. We all pause. "Yellowjackets, with me!" 
Shauna and Taissa were the first to rush to Jackie, and you felt yourself being left behind with a few others that didn't get into the fight. 
You put a cigarette into your mouth quickly, and lighting it, you look at Natalie, who wore a similar face of frustration. You nudge your pack to her, and she takes one with a grin. 
"Thank you, pretty lady," Natalie says as she follows Jackie like everyone else, you follow behind her. 
"Anytime, sexy thing." You say to her with a smirk; you bump her with your hip as you get to Jackie first. 
Jackie looked confused and annoyed as she looked at all of you together in the woods again. "I don't know what the fuck that was, but I do know that it is over. We're about to go to nationals. And based on what I'm looking at right now, we might as well not even bother getting on that plane. Alright. Everybody line up."
No one moves. 
"No, I am fucking serious lineup. Here is what we are going to do. I want each and every one of you to say one nice, true thing about every girl on this team."
"What is this, the fucking Girl Scout camp?" Tai whispers, and you chuckle with Van. You felt a smile come to your high face as you stand up before Laura Lee. 
"I will go first." You say happily. 
"Go ahead, (Y/n), take the floor. Thank you" Jackie smiled as she moved for you to stand beside her. 
You stand there and smile; you take a puff of your new cigarette as you take a stand in front of the group. 
"Okay, Jackie Taylor, I admire your sense of style and how much you do as the team leader you are. Although I am not on the team, I can see you work so hard at it every day." 
Jackie smiles with a blush; she didn't expect you to say anything to her. She nodded her head, and she said, "(Y/n) (L/n), you seriously are the nicest girl I have ever met before. I have never met someone with so much compassion for others; I admire that. Also, you look fucking great in that dress, doesn't (Y/n) look fucking amazing?" Jackie says to you and points out the outfit. You smirk as the others come to admire your dress and done-up hair; you spin for them to see with a laugh escaping your mouth. They whistle at you jokingly and little cheers about your cute outfit. 
You smile and say thank you to Jackie before she can say more. You move to Shauna, and you smile widely at her. "Shauna Shipmen, you know I love you bitch. You are crazy in a fun way, and you make things so much better by being around." 
"(Y/n) (L/n), you are wicked smart. I have never met someone who could get a 100 in trigonometry with Mrs. Goldmen!" She says to you, and you giggle at her words, shaking your head. You then move down the line of awaiting girls. 
"Taissa Turner, you are so smart and very assertive. I wish I could be as confident as you when you know you are right; you would be an amazing lawyer." 
"I admire your fairness and how you don't judge when you do disagree. You always do what is right even when it's annoying." Tai says to you and playfully pushes your shoulder; you smirk and shake your head at her. You laugh at her call you annoying when she is supposed to be kind to you, but you didn't expect Taissa to drop the tough girl act.  
"Laura Lee, there is not a single person I know that is as Faithful and kind as you. I haven't ever really heard you say anything hateful or mean, which is hard to find. You are truly so fucking Christian, and I love that for you because you have never hated anyone for their differences."
"(Y/n), you have excellent writing skills and are the only part of the newspaper I read. Your photos are outstanding like they always bring my eyes to them. 
"You only say that because you know I am the one that took them." You laugh at her as she does too. She shook her head and said, "No, they are excellent!" 
You shake your head and move to Van; she is already doing that cheesy smile you always seem to gravitate towards. You smile back and come a little closer to Van; no one notices how you feel the heat of her body in that innocent way you stand to her. 
"Vanessa Palmer, I wish I was as funny as you. Sometimes I don't think anything I say sounds funny, and every word out of your mouth is fucking funny. You are the one person I come to to get me smiling again when I am sad." 
Van's cheesy face falls to a softer one that melts her heart. She nodded and said, "(Y/n), there is no other person I know that is funnier than you. Don't you remember when you told us about catching Scott Lulson jacking it with ketchup in the yearbook room? I snorted out my milk!" She remained as she laughed. You follow her before being pushed away by Jackie to talk to Van. You move to Natalie, she is already smirking at you, and you do the same. 
Natalie was one of those friends you flirted with and touched sometimes; however, it was never pushed more than just the daring "drunk" kiss at Spin the Bottle once last year. 
"Natalie Scatorccio, I love how authentic you are and how you don't give a fuck about what anyone thinks. You're a fucking badass, and you know it. Nobody can fuck with you." You say as you puff the end of the cigarette, throwing it to the floor and stepping on it. Natalie smirked at you with her eyes seemingly blown out. 
"(Y/n)," Natalie whispered to you and stepped closer, "you know how beautiful you are to me." 
"I do." 
"You do?" She asked in a condescending reassuring voice; she was teasing me. I laugh and put my hand on her upper arm; I look at her face and say, "You are so wasted, Nat! How do I know what you're saying is true, huh?" 
"You saying my love for you isn't pure?" Natalie laughed; she looked at your face with a raised eyebrow. But before you can speak, she cuts you off by saying, "Cuz it's not pure. Never been pure with you." she whispers at the end, with a bit to her lower lip.  
You burst out laughing as you feel your face get hot. You push her for shoulder playfully, feel like she is flirting with you a little too well, and feel the energy coming off of you and her at that moment. You move away to Lottie when Taissa moves to talk to Natalie; you send her a kiss as you move away. You and Natalie laugh at each other I that moment. 
"Lottie Matthews, you are so kind and understanding. I know you always have my back when I need to cry and have always been so supportive." You say to Lottie and lean on her shoulder, tired from the party. She sighs and looks down at you with a smile. 
"(Y/n), You are really responsible. I think you work hard at everything and take so much responsibility for so much in your life. You kick ass." Lottie giggled at you as she hugged you back. She whispers into your ear, "You wanna ditch this place and go home after we're done with this Kumbaya bullshit? I'll give you a ride." 
"I would suck your dick if you had one." You reply quickly to her in a whisper, and you both giggle intoxicatedly together. 
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You sat in the passager seat of your father's truck. Your father was a quiet, kind, funny man but never one to start a conversation, and his knuckles were worn from years of work. 
You don't even try to notice how his veins pop from his skin or how his hands look his age more than his face, and you really try not to see how his hair has gotten more grey. But, you do notice the dreading annoyance of being in the car with him. 
He wasn't there like he used to be. He wasn't this superhero you thought he was. He was just a man, an old man whose wife was dying slowly, and he didn't have enough money to stop working until he was 70. He didn't deserve that. But he didn't need to always be working and never be at the house anymore; he didn't need to not be there for you when your mother was dying. He wasn't as strong as you thought. And it crushed you a long time ago. 
"You all packed?" He asked you as you entered the airport's parking lot. 
"Yeah." You say quietly. You play with the buttons on your flannel. "Mom made me check a few times." 
"You have an extra pack-"
"Of underwear, just in case." You finish his sentence, a well-known saying in your house for when you go camping. You always pack three pairs. One to wear, one as a spare, and another for reserve. 
He chuckled as he got into the drop-off line and looked over to you with a stoic face, but you knew he was having a deep emotion come over him. "You going to Seattle?" 
"Yes, I'm going to Seattle, Dad." You said to him, a little confused with him. 
He was quiet as he looked back to the steering wheel of the '78 Chevy. He picked at his nails, his hands calloused and his nails rounded from years of anxiously biting them, "You got that Swiss with you?" 
"Yes, Dad. I always have it in my pocket; why?" 
"You just don't have anyone to protect you-" 
"Dad, I have my friends; I will be fine. It's just for four days; I'll be okay." 
"I just don't trust them to protect you." He said with his head shaking a little as he crawled the car closer to the entrance of the building. "I don't really like you not being home." 
You roll your eyes to yourself softly as you look at the truck's floor. You look at your tied shoes deeply as you say to reassure, "Dad. I will be fine. Guys like the coaches and their kids are coming with us to protect us."
"There is a boy going with you?" He said with a raised eyebrow. Your father's fatal flaw was his fear of you becoming a teen mother. He was dead serious and mean about boys with you, trying to scare you away from them, and it just became more annoying to listen to. "I don't know it. I want you to go now that a boy is going too." 
"Dad, I'm pretty sure he is in 7th grade. I would sigh and push a 7th grader away. Don't go there." You say softly, already grabbing the bags from the back. Your dad rolled his eyes at the slang and at the fact you were right. You were a big girl and weren't easily overpowered, but you were still a little girl to him. 
He lets the car fall to silence again, and you don't stop him. You wanted to run out of the car with the ticket but waited to say goodbye. This is the first time you will be so far away from home and your parents. You were so excited and nervous to get on the plane. 
As you come closer in the line to the section of the drop-off, your dad looks over at you. He is emotional, his face is blank, but his eyebrows are furrowed subtly, his eyes watery,  and he clears his throat as he scans the airport entrance. 
“(Y/n).” 
“Yes, Dad?” 
"Make good decisions." He says stiffly. He looks over at you, and his rough comforting hand comes to the side of your face to touch your face. You didn't know what to do but look at your father in the face. "Can you call us when you land? I'll pay for the payphone." He says to you softly. 
"Yeah, of course, Dad." You smile at him and move away to get out of the car. Too excited to stay in that quiet car, seeing your friends coming into the building from a few cars out. Before you close the door, you stop and look at your dad again, him clearly not okay with you leaving; you say, "I love you. I will see you in a few days; take care of Mom for me." 
"I love you too, peanut." He says before you close the door on him. You race over to Shauna, who is walking in; you pump into her from behind, making you two laugh. You didn’t think twice to look back to your dad as he drove away, you always regretted not looking back to your father. 
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You listen to music as you put your duffle, carry-on, and little box luggage into the overhead compartment. Your eyes are wide, and you scan the expensive first-class seating of the plane. You feel Van push you lightly to the seats to annoy you as she walks past you; you huff and go her back, which makes her laugh. 
You laugh too. You feel giddy to be on the plane and see what it is like for rich people to live. You giggle when you make eye contact with Shauna and Jackie across the way; you jump into the window seat. You up it to see the men attaching a giant hose to the wing.
Van, Lottie, and Laura Lee come into the private plane with awe in their eyes. Van jokes and admires the expensive velvet seated chairs, and the three just giggle together as they come over to you. 
“This is his form of parenting, I’ll take it.” Lottie sighed as she comes closer to you in your seat. 
All three giggle and say, “Thank you, Mr. Matthews.” and giggle at in their own little world. 
"Mind if I sit here?" Lottie requested to your with her big brown eyes looking down to you. 
"Of course! Sit with me, girl!" You chimed to Lottie with a bright smile coming to your cheeks. You then ask as you look at her cute outfit. "Lottie, how the fuck did your parents afford this?" 
"(Y/n), you need to stop cursing so much. A valedictorian shouldn't speak like that! What if you slip an f-bomb in your graduation speech?" Laura Lee cuts in from the seat in front of us; she puts her bags away just like Lottie as she scolds you.
"I won't f-bomb at graduation!" You tell her with a shake of your head, moving your jacket off the seat next to you for Lottie. You pat the pocket notebook in the breast pocket of your flannel, "I'm writing it, so I will make sure to give credit to the helpful editor Laura Lee for making sure I keep it clean!" You joke as you smile at her, snarky and sarcastic.
Laura Lee rolled her eyes with a smile, "Whatever, you better say something about us in your speech." 
"Yeah, add "The fucking cool Yellowjackets went to nationals, and the guy's team didn't even make it to states; never give up on your dreams!"" Lottie added; she slouched into the chair next to you as she looked out the open window to see outside. Everyone is so happy and excited; you just giggle with the girls as you pull out the notebook and pull the table over your lap. You felt gratitude that the seat and table still fit and didn't rest on your body like other seats would have done to you. 
You look over to Lottie, who is now talking with Laura Lee about strategy for Nationals, and you feel your hand move your headphones from your Walkman over your ears. You let the music distract you as the plane goes off, and your handwriting shakes when the plane enters the air. 
"Sorry passengers, due to an unexpected storm over the Midwest, we’ll be making a detour north through Canada. You’ll catch the amazing view of the Canadian Alms." You hear the pilot speak over the intercom, and your lips pull to an excited grin. 
Lottie laughs as she sees the face and asks, "What got you so smiley?"
"We're going to see the Canadian Rockies! I went to the smoky mountains a few summers back, and it was so beautiful. I will get you to see them!" You say as you touch Lottie's hand; you smile more and move away to get started on writing the speech. You didn't know how to make yourself confident or sound that way like you earned the title. 
Lottie felt her breath hitch in her throat as she felt your soft hand touch her arm. She looks over your face quickly, looking over how your cheek curves to your smile and how your eyes seem to shine when you talk. She goes quiet as she looks over your face, lost to something; she is pulled away by Laura Lee, continuing her past thought about how she should strike the ball. 
The ride became calm for you; everyone settled and got into their own little worlds, some read, and others talked to their partners next to them. You look over when you finish the first draft of your speech, seeing Lottie sleeping peacefully in the seat. 
"Passengers, we are about to experience turbulence. Sit tight, and talk to a flight assistant for help.” The piolet voice cuts through the air like a red hot knife and it severed something inside of you. 
Your ears perked at the intercom as you felt your stomach drop slightly. You felt the tumbling of the turbulence. You see the water on your table shake, and water splashes out; Lottie wakes up with a wide eye as she looks around everywhere; you hold onto the hand rests with white knuckles. You look out the window and see the peaking out. 
In the silence, try to build some courage and lose the dread building in your stomach. Suddenly, as you stare at the peaks of the mountains and the green tops of trees, you notice them growing. There was no sound when the plane started to crash down; there you were, stuck calming, looking down to the sea of green, making the sudden realization that it wasn't just turbulence. You were crashing and fast. 
"Oh my fucking god!" You panic to yourself as you see the lights in the plane flashing around you; you see the movement of the masks deploying around you from the corner of your teary eye. All your friends and the other people on the plane start to scream, scared and hopeless. 
Down. Down. Down. 
And you were going to die. You were going down, and you had no control over what happened. You just watched the peaks of the trees come closer to the belly of the plane, you couldn’t help but start to shake in your seat.  The image of your family camping comes to your mind in rapid succession of the memories of your mother singing to you as a toddler and memories of your father teaching you how to cast a line into the water. You were never going home again. You would never see your parents, friends, neighbors, co-workers, or anybody in your life again. 
You felt a hand cling to yours, and it was the thing that pulled you away from the scene of your own death. You snap to your side and see Lottie also panicking with tearful eyes; she is now screaming like the other girls. But her deep brown eyes locked into yours, her hand clawing onto the back of your hand. Begging for the company in the bleak frantic moments. 
You're hand moves quickly to hold her back, lacing fingers together; you stare back with your lip quivering. You were so scared you couldn't open your mouth; you couldn't say anything. You move to put your mask on quickly, but your eyes don't break from those beautiful brown eyes. A sense of calm comes over you amid the nightmare, and you know that you are going to die, but you will die around the people you did love and know who loved you. 
You felt lightheaded as you two stared at each other, something deeper being told to each other with your eyes. And in your soul, you felt what she said with her as yours said to hers in that moribund realization as the plane drops your heart to your stomach. 
"I am not going to die alone. Don't leave me." 
"I won't leave you. We will not die alone."   
The fat tears roll down your cheeks as you keep your eyes on Lottie. And Lottie does the same, her mouth open with a scream of terror, her eyes looking behind you to the reality charging towards us with trees hitting the wings. 
Within a millisecond, the world went black with a disgusting crack. 
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25 years later…  
You sit on the porch of your childhood home infront of your table covered with everything you might need to get inspired. It's been 2 years since your last novel came out; it was successful and made you money but nothing crazy. You're publisher has been hounding you for the third book in your trilogy of romance novels, but you have been dry of inspiration for a long time. Your books weren't something you were incredibly proud of. It was just a smutty and fluffy romance with dark undertones throughout. Your trilogy was about a lesbian couple composed of an adventurer looking for a lost artifact and a genie lost in the artifact. The adventurer's first wish was to be loved, and the story wrote itself after that idea. 
After the rescue, you never wanted to leave your house again. It took you until Shauna's wedding to leave your home and your father's side. You were in a dark place when you came back home. You lived a life out in the wilderness that would be judged and parts that would cause people to look at you with fear. You took a few years to find the motivation to do anything with your life. Your father was loving and patient with you, and you eventually went to college in new york. You build connections and experiences you long thought were not for you and that you would never experience. You remembered being in a horse-drawn carriage in central park and crying because you finally did something, and the forest didn't stop you. It couldn't stop you anymore. You became a writer under a pen name and moved back in with your father as soon as possible; you lived mostly at home and didn't leave unless you wanted to. Now, your father living in a nursing home because he needs more medical attention than you could give him, leaving you in the big house alone. And you were happy. 
You rub your eyes as you stare at the computer screen; you turn to face your cold breakfast. You bite into the sausage, feeling the texture and savoring the vestiges and juices as you eat the meat, reminding yourself to eat the meat first. The wind chimes sing softly at the wind as you look around your backyard, seeing your outside cat resting on the gate across the way. A sense of peace in the world as at this little house. You dreamed about it, and it became a paradise in your young mind; you were content with your humble home. 
As you are chewing on your food, you see a woman walk through the wooden gate and look around the back of your house. You shallow quickly as you look at the unfamiliar woman, your eyes sharp as you take another bite of food before calling out to her. A tan woman with black curls and a strong nose. You have never seen this woman in your life.
"Hey, what are you doing over there?" 
"Oh, I'm looking for (Y/n) (L/n). Does she still live here?" The woman asked, looking at you with a smile. 
"Yeah, I'm she." 
"I am Jessica Roberts, Star-Ledger, and I'd like to ask you a few questions. 
You feel your mask work for you, a smile on your lips as you wave her over to you. "Come on over; I just made some coffee." 
"Thank you," Jessica said as she came into your yard. You stand up, not caring if she would steal your computer, and go through the back door to get her a cup of coffee. 
You walk back out to her, sitting across from you at the table and her looking over the spread of items on the table. It had your breakfast, half-empty coffee, an ashtray, a computer, writing notebooks, and flowers. You always had a vase of flowers on your tables. "You like flowers, I see?" Jessica commented as she saw the cases of your phone and computer, flowers, and the big bouquet of wildflowers. 
"Yeah, I think it gives more color to my workspace." You say with a kind tone to it. You smile as you sit on the floor pillow and push your work aside to see her more clearly. "What do you need to ask me? Is it about the Ancient Desires series?"
"Oh, no," Jessica said with a confused look like she never heard of them. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as the air was thicker. "I wasn't going to ask you about that." 
Your ear perks up, and you feel the air still. The palms of your hands clam up as you continue your Façade. You perfected hiding your feeling under a smile, having to calm and temper the hunger of others for so long kept with you. Smiling and nodding, simply listening and being seen, was a tool you learned and used daily. No one needed to know the hurt or the anger, knowing if they caught a glimpse of the rage boiling inside, you would scare them. "It should scare them," you thought to yourself in times of reflection that both made you scared of yourself but empowered with knowledge of the depth of your rage.
"Well, what is it that you want to ask?" You ask her, but already knowing what she is going to say.
"I wanted to ask you about what really happened 25 years ago?" Jessica asked with a curtness that you didn't appropriate about the topic. She is that type of reporter. She is not asking about the new book's release, and she was not here for some literary journal. She is here to pry like so many before. Like the others, they have no taste as they try to pry and ask questions about the scars on your face or how you became so skinny upon your return that would be followed up by a question if you were pleased with your new body or when they try and ask what happened to the other girls in the woods.
You pause and grab a cigarette. You think to yourself, "Jesus fucking Christ." 
"Okay. We have. I remember we had a press conference a month after our rescue, and we told the story." You said quickly as you blew the smoke out of your mouth, hiding your nervousness. You remember the flashing lights of cameras and the distasteful questions, the feeling of the eyes of the girls on you, and feeling your tongue move as you lie through your teeth that day. You lean your head on your fist as you smoke your cigarette. 
"No, but how did you all survive 19 months in those woods? How did you survive, (Y/N)?" 
You look at her with your face unchanging, skillfully, as you make your face look softly confused. A soft smile as you nod your head, smoking the stick. "Okay. We have already said what happened when we got back 25 years ago. We starved, scavenged, and prayed a lot, and then we were found."
"I know you have been letting other people tell your story-" 
You dryly chuckle, cutting her off, blowing your smoke shakily as you say, "I am a bestseller author. I have published 4 books if you did any research before coming here. I would have written about it, but there is not much to tell that wouldn't be tragedy porn for sick fucks  to read. Just like the sick fucks paying you to dig up this old story. I've moved on." 
"All I am saying is that some of them are getting money off your story. Don't let them tell your story."
You lean back on your comfortable pillow as you gently let the wind hit your face. Feeling calm over you as you smoke again, looking into her eyes as you soften your face. In your heart, you know she is bluffing, but your hands shake with nervousness; you slowly space out as you let something come over you that spoke in the reassuring voice you mastered. 
"Whatever you think happened out there is probably much worse than what happened. I know we all don't want to relive our pasts because of how tragic it was…." As you look at your table, you feel space out as the world becomes quieter. "Honestly, we just starved and hunted whatever we could find to keep the ones to survive the crash alive. And some died along the way from exposure and starvation. It was hard to live through, and it is something I will always take with me, the time I lost and the kid I was, but we have told you the whole story. We just survived. I don't understand what you are looking for me to say." You said, as you basically rephrased the press statement you said 25 years ago. You remember holding the queue cards tightly as you stare down at them, not daring to face the families and people demanding answers. But how could you answer those questions? How could you tell them that what they think is true, you ate your friends, but how do you confess how you ate them, the reason they died. You remembered as you told the microphone of the deaths of the people as starvations, looking up to find Akilah's sister with a 3-year-old boy on her lap, you felt yourself choke under the guilt. You ran away from the press conference as soon as it was finished; you remember the sobs you wailed into your father's chest when you got home. And how you couldn't face the world for a few years after that. Lies always seemed to stab you more profoundly than any other bad intention, but you couldn't see how telling the truth would do anyone good. 
"Have you spoken to the other girls to know they don't want to relive it?" 
You chuckle again as you sip your coffee. You shake your head and say, "No, I haven't spoken to them in years. I think the last time I saw one of the girls was back in… '07? I hope they are doing good. I don't know how they feel, but I am just assuming." You lie smoothly. You take a deep puff out of the cigarette. "I am done talking about this now; I hope you can respect my decision." 
"Alright, but if you change your mind, please contact me," she says, putting a business card with the very clearly fake business name on it and her number. You smile as she gets up and leaves, not touching the coffee and leaving without a goodbye. 
You kiss your teeth as you think, "Wasteful bitch." You sigh as you smoke the end of the short cigarette, pouring the untouched coffee into your mug. You sit in your spaced-out state as your thoughts run. You feel yourself kiss your teeth again, knowing what you should do, as you stand up with a new cigarette in your teeth, walking into your home. 
You race to the bedroom, and you find the purple burner phone. The one that Tai bought you a week before she married Simone, she begged you to keep contact and that she couldn't imagine a world without you as she proposed to Simone. You took the phone without saying anything to the crying woman, and you pointedly never used it after putting all the yellowjackets information into it if you needed it. You still felt a sting when you thought about Tai and how things ended up for you. You felt that way about all the girls. 
You sigh and light the cigarette as you look up to the ceiling; you roll your eyes as you call the number that you know would know the most and would give you anything you need at the drop of a hat. 
You hear the rings as you anxiously pace the floor, smoking the cigarette deep into your lungs, feeling the tickle and your nerves widen in your legs and hands. 
"Hello, this is Misty Quigley. Who is this?" 
"Hey, Misty, it's me-"
"Hi," Misty said breathlessly on the other end. I can already tell she is smiling and pressing her phone closer to her cheek, trying to get close to you somehow. She knew it was you before you could finish your sentence. 
"I wanted to call and tell you that someone came to my house and asked about it." You said softly to her, holding the burning stick. Looking at it as you lose yourself in the disassociating daydream. "You told me once, if anything happened, to call you." 
"Who was it? Another reporter? Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?" 
"Yeah, she said her name was Jessica Roberts from the Star-Ledger. I-I know you are better at these things than me, but I don't think that if that is really her name or Star-Ledger is real. I wanted you to know before she or any of the girls come to you." You said as you felt yourself start crying. You didn't know why. 
"Thank you. You're still so kind; how are you doing? Are you still in New York?" Misty asked quickly, and you felt your skin crawl as you knew she was already trying to get her claws into you again. Too much hurt lingers inside you with what happened in the woods. 
"I-I… Thank you, Misty. I have to go now-"
"Wait-"
"Bye. I'm sorry." You sobbed as you hung up on her. You felt a piece of your heart pull at the pain. You chose yourself long ago; you can't let them come back in. They would never leave. You don't really know if you want them to.
You know that you would let them creep back into your life if you let them. They saved you. They protected you. How could you stay away from them again?
DINGDONG! DINGDONG! 
You feel yourself flinch at the sound of your doorbell ring in your house. It stabbed the air violently. You rush to the door now, feeling lost in the moment. The memories rush and consume your reality. As you race down the stairs, you feel the air push your hair like the wild wind did in those hunts; the feeling of your skin touching the carpeted floors turn to wet grass, as the hair follows out not out of simple bounce of stairs but out of savagery. 
"Jessica, I already told you that I don't-" You say as you open the door, only to find nobody there. You pause as you look around the road with the other houses on the drive and the forest surrounding your home. You feel the wilderness look at you when you scan the trees, knowing it is breathing you in as you breathe it in. You were alone in your isolated country home, 
You look down at the mat to find a bouquet of Baby breaths wrapped in brown paper. You shakily pick it up and look at the card. You felt the lone lost role come back from all those years ago, the Doe, the innocent creature watched over by the wolves and tormented with pleasure and insanity. Your eyes manically look around the house again as you lose your breath, panic over you as you back into your door, slamming and locking the door. 
“I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve never met anyone who is equally beautiful inside and out as you. I hope you like the flowers even though I know you prefer color. 
Eternally yours ♡” 
Unbeknownst to you, across the way, a woman watched the house when you cowered back into the safety of the house. Her hand clutched the tree with their fingers digging into the now smoothed bark from the years of her touch. Her face snarls as she sees you hide back into your house, the lip quacking into a smirk, taking you drawing back as an invitation to chase you again. They remembered the years they yearned for you, afraid of you rejecting them because they didn't know if you liked girls too, not knowing how you would love them. You were precious; you were kind and genuine, ferocious and passionate, but so lost like always. They saw how you were lonely before the crash, and they see it now. They knew deep down that you were ruled by your fear and love of others, making you hide. They knew if they got you again, you couldn't leave them like you did once. You were their wife out there. And they are going to get you back. 
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Note: I really hope you liked this story! Please ask me if you want to be on the Taglist or any thoughts on my story. Also, if you don’t like the outfits you don’t have to take them as the image you get in your head while reading, they were just what I used to inspire the story and enrich the character setting that you are in for this story!  (BTW I am so annoyed that I couldn’t find any plus sized clothes on the site I used to make the outfits)
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chanbig · 20 days
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Big Kinnporsche and his uniform
i know the costume design dept gave the theerapanyakul bodyguards different versions of their uniform to make it easier to distinguish between them and make it visually more interesting (even though the point of a uniform is homogeneity) but i think it's interesting how they make big and porsche outliers
Porsche is out here in his slutty little vest and tie (the only one in his shirtsleeves because he is freewheeling, he is bucking the rules, we gotta show off that shoulder-to-waist ratio). he is new, he is special, he doesn't give a fuck. he is the Main Character.
pete, ken, arm and pol are in the usual blazer, no tie, shirt with a couple of buttons undone combo, with varying levels of undone-ness. (pete has the most buttons done up, intriguingly!!!! he typically only has the top button undone. what does this Mean. what could he possibly be hiding under there 🤫). this is what the typical bodyguard wears—most of the bodyguard extras are wearing a black suit and white shirt (one or two have ties, but most don't). they are integrated into the system. they are a team.
chan gets distinguished as head bodyguard by being allowed to wear all black, which gives him a very intense, no nonsense look. he stands out from the crowd when he first walks into frame—without words, you can tell THAT is a man with authority (😳 <- live me reaction)
AND THEN you have big over here in his closed blazer, shirt buttoned to the neck, perfectly knotted tie, and suspenders (!!) outfit. the whole getup. no one else on the main cast is doing it like him—literally. he is on the opposite end of the spectrum from porsche, even though they wear almost the same number of pieces. with the blazer on, big's outfit gives him the most buttoned up/rigid/follows the rules look, like he will wear the fullest version of the uniform because It Is The Correct Way. he has been at this job for years and he is still so strict about this. he is so strict about this BECAUSE he has been at this job for years. even with his ponytail and edgy eyebrow cut, he comes across as 'I am 100% on the job all the time'. he is All Business.
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spot the suspenders 🧐
even when he's wearing the standard tracksuit, it's zipped completely up to the neck, sleeves all the way down.
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we never see him in the pool. we don't see him in casual clothes. he is always SO closed off. he takes his uniform blazer off ONCE (making porsche crawl across the floor is hard work 😏).
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spot the blazer thrown over the chair in the back 🔍
the only time we see him wearing a shirt with the buttons undone is when they're at the casino and he's being forced to 'blend in'. looking closer, though, even that outfit looks like the shirt and trousers he normally wears, just without the blazer, tie, and suspenders.
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same slim-cut black trousers, same type of stiffened spread collar, same big pocket. his trousers fit him well—clearly the suspenders are just for the Look.
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hmmm ive seen this shirt before.
the only time we see him in a short sleeved shirt is when they're on a SWAT-style rescue mission and everyone else is ALSO wearing that.
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field trip time. everyone put on their outside clothes.
so arguably even both 'more casual' outfits are literally part of his uniform
where am i going with this... we see the others in their casual clothes. we see them disheveled, drunk, unbound from their jobs. they are allowed to be something other than just a bodyguard, even if just for a minute, even if they're still with tankhun at the bar—they are allowed that measure of freedom and personality. they drink, they laugh, they have fun. they have desires outside of their jobs (notably, we see ken in a hawaiian shirt when he is revealed to be the mole, i.e. have desires outside of the main theerapanyakul house)
we do not see big outside of his role as a bodyguard. he is this role and this role is him. there's something there about him scrubbing away all of his personal wants and needs to fit into this role as kinn's Head Bodyguard. giving up everything else so he can do this job, be of use to the theerapanyakul family—to kinn. not allowing himself to think about or want things outside of the compound because those things will distract him. no faltering from his role, or any vision of him as a person is allowed to come through. all he has is just a single minded pursuit of his goal and his focus (protecting kinn). he has dedicated himself and he is proud of that. he still gets up and puts on the whole uniform every day, suspenders on, shirt buttoned up, tie tight. he follows the rules and his orders even though he hates them sometimes, even though he might protest at first—one word or gesture from kinn or korn or kim and he falls silent. he will push down everything else he might have wanted under the role he has chosen for himself, that he has now become. he has already given up everything else for the theerapanyakuls—so, in the end, why not his life? what else does he have to offer? what else is left?
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carionto · 6 months
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What if we just hollowed it out?
Progress on the Dyson Ring was unbearably slow (by Human standards) and Captain Knoslark and some of his crew were busying themselves with a twice-a-week extended D&D session. He was banned from GMing after trying to introduce the Deck of Many Things, so relegated himself to a Wild Sorcerer Drow build. When it was not his turn during combat, he would make sure when his turn did come up, the holographic projections he programmed would show off his descriptions of his magics in the most spectacular fashion. He was irritatingly good at the visuals, and nobody wanted to praise him outright for fear his ego might explode, but it did pass the time well enough.
The construction efforts have become so routine and uneventful that the only people who had anything stimulating to do on the clock were the observation officers. Even then, it was just ships going in and out of the system, sometimes big groups of civilian craft would bunch together in the Oort cloud for a race, other times an alien diplomatic vessel and escort would jump in for a visit or to drop off a person who had "made a mess on a vessel not outfitted to handle Human strength", which typically meant somebody forgot alien doors don't have a manual override and broke it by opening it by hand without much trouble. Most exciting was when a new Dreadnought or other large military ship was constructed and it set out on its first voyage outside the shipyards around Earth.
Of course, their main job was monitoring celestial objects and make sure any wandering meteors or debris weren't on a collision course with anything important, and if there was one, tell the nearest patrol ships and they would go out and redirect or destroy it.
Today, Officer Xiang spotted something a bit bigger. A rogue planet! Trajectory analysis indicates it will pass into the Oort cloud in two years and pass through Sol over the next forty three, only once coming relatively close to Mars, but not enough to influence its orbit. It was, however, big enough that they could complete a significant portion of the Dyson Ring. Big enough that, in theory, it would then be able to output enough power at once to power the planetary Warp Gate for anything up to the size of the Moon.
Unfortunately, deeper scans showed it once had living organisms on it, and was thus protected under intergalactic preservation laws: "The surface of any rogue planet that once housed life shall remain untouched, and the planet shall be marked as a historical landmark and scientific object for study purposes only."
To this, Captain Knoslark inquired: "Hmm... but what about below the surface? It's just cold rock at this point, right? What if we find a natural crevice and just dig a little further? For Science!"
As a junior officer and there being almost no people who are experts on such niche intergalactic laws yet, Xiang and the others couldn't find a reason why this wouldn't work, but it felt... off.
"Just think, it'll be fine - we'll reinforce some of the ore and create a porous interior, preserving the structural integrity of the planet as a whole and keeping the surface as is. AND we get about 85% of a whole planet to further our progress - that's a whole 17 moons worth! And and it would be within our jurisdiction during the time. It's a win-neutral as far as I can see."
That sounded like logic. Maybe? Either way, we would have to talk to the higher ups about this plan. Even if anybody wanted to, hollowing out a planet is not a thing you can do in secret. You need, well, literally a planet's worth of ships, equipment, and crew to do something like that within just over four decades, and we want to get it done in less than one.
No matter our advancements, dedication, willpower, grit, force, or cunning, the two foes Humanity cannot defeat, but must always accept and handle properly - logistics and the accompanying bureaucracy. Still, it would be nice if we didn't have to use up more of our moons so quickly for one project.
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a-cosmic-elf · 6 months
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I’ve seen people moaning about how Starfield is sexless, and it makes me wonder how many Bethesda games they’ve seen that feature visual sex. Sex you don’t just hear or read about in-game.
Sex has never played a front-and-centre role in most Elder Scrolls or Fallout games, so I’m not sure what some were expecting from Starfield. Mass Effect levels of sexy time, I guess, which is in my view unreasonable in this context.
Sex is there in the lore of Bethesda games, but never shoved in your face. It’s more cerebral than that. They give you the suggestion, and then you roleplay the rest if that’s your thing. And that is a breath of fresh air. Considering the world we live in, that’s something to be celebrated.
True RPGs must be careful to be as inclusive as impossible. I have found many allosexual folks expect sex to be there, as it is in most media we are exposed to, and they don’t give one thought to those who would prefer to go about their day without sex being ever-present.
In Starfield, the first time I landed in Neon, I adored it. Why? Because it’s the antithesis of what you would expect from a ‘pleasure city’ in the sci-fi genre.
It was almost like they were saying, ‘Hey, remember the dancers in Mass Effect? Yeah, let’s take the piss out of that. Let’s make a club without sexy female dancers shoving their asses and titties in your face. Let’s put dancers of all genders and sizes on this podium, fully clothed in the silliest outfits, and make them dance like Shepard. Let’s make it feel like a child’s birthday party on drugs.
For the record, I’m allosexual, but that kind of satarical social commentary will always be funny to me.
Well done, Bethesda. Thank you for constantly pushing back on the ‘sex sells’ marketing mantra and just saying ‘no. If you want sex on your Starfield journey, imagine it. We haven’t ruled it out, but it’s up to the player how far they take it in their heads.’
That’s what a Role Playing Game should be. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼
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chxrrymxxnlight · 11 months
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devil in disguise | s.hb
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pairing: sung hanbin x fem! reader
genre: romance, horror
warnings: slight horror, suggestive themes, pet names (baby, princess), hanbin's a meanie
age rating: 16+
word count: 1.1k
a/n: yall the debut congratulatory film is what inspired me to do this imagine...and it's the longest i've ever written holy shit. anyways i hope yall enjoy!
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
everyone knew sung hanbin. he's the flower boy, most popular boy in his campus, always treat his friends well and respect his teacher's well. he became the role model of many, especially you. you always admired him, although you didn't catch feelings for him…not until that one time where he had to work on a project with you. 
since then, you and hanbin are on good terms. "so that's what it feels like to work with such a lovely boy." you thought. you always fooled yourself with his beautiful personality and flower-like visuals. 
now…everything backfired, crumbled down like a glacier. the flowery hanbin is now gone. you noticed a slight change of hanbin's fashion style. he would usually dress in pastel like outfits or cosy outfits, but this time he pulled up with a leather jacket and a black shirt inside. 
you questioned yourself. "i have never seen him like this before. should i ask him what happened?" you thought to yourself. after thinking hard, you decided not to take the risk. you went on with your day as usual with classes and activities. 
after your classes end, you walked your way back to the dorms. that wasn't until you accidently bumped against hanbin. "hanbin, i'm sorry. i wasn't watching where i look and i'm currently in a rush." you said. the first part of the sentence was a truth but the second one was a lie. 
he only looked at you with dark eyes. you swore that your legs are starting to shake intensely. looks could kill, you never knew that. "hanbin…? i said i'm sorry." you said, repeating your apology. 
without saying anything, hanbin then turned you around before covering your eyes with his hand, his other arm wrapping around your shoulder. your back is now leaned against his slightly toned body. you tried your best not to squeal at his actions. 
"you can't run now, y/n. i know what you're trying to do to me." he said. "hanbin. i have never done anything to you." you said. "have you…?" he said, letting out a devilish laugh. "i knew you're the first one to notice my changes in personality today. that flowery boy is no more, y/n." he said. 
"then, who are you exactly?" you said, voice weakening. he didn't reply to your question, instead he let go of his hand from your eyes before grabbing your arm harshly, making you follow him to somewhere unknown. 
you then find yourself in a dark room, almost nothing but ropes and silk. "this is my secret hideaway. my father used to have this room, but he passed this to me." he said. you were scared, you felt like this would be the end of your life. 
"lie down." he said. you did as what he had said, but you're starting to feel uneasy inside, making your body tense. "someone save me, right now." you thought to yourself, not wanting to spit it out. 
"y/n, you're mine now. there's no turning back, it's my decision to fall for you, it's a plan." he said. "any objection will be rejected, sweetheart." he continued, a long silk cloth in his grip. 
"of course, i shouldn't let you see what i've planned." he said, wrapping the silk cloth around your head, cutting your vision. you couldn't see anything but you can hear everything. his voice was dripping with lingering darkness.
without giving you any warning, he placed himself on top of you. his weight on you made you groan, but you tried your best to hold it in as you do not want to submit too easily. "just scream for me, princess." he said. 
"i won't. i can't believe a man so innocent would dare to kill a woman." you said, gathering up the little pieces of courage. you heard hanbin's dark chuckles before you felt his fingers tracing your waist. it made you shiver, the touch felt so light like a feather. again, you restrained yourself from getting the sounds out of your mouth. at this point, you're putting yourself into a dangerous situation. 
"so you're trying hard not to submit to me." he said, gripping your chin harshly. a strained groan came out of your mouth due to the pain. without a warning, his lips connected with yours. you were already exhausted from his lingering touch, you can't help but respond to the kiss with soft whimpers. as he broke the kiss, you were left breathless. you slowly sighed out in relief. 
"do you really think this is the end, y/n? i'll make you scream until your brains are all messed up." he said, letting out another dark laugh before standing up. since you still couldn't see anything, you can only hear his footsteps. 
your lips are sealed tight as you feel the urge to release a tired moan. you felt that it would be embarrassing. you felt your shirt pulled upwards slightly, his fingers continuing to trace your waist. you gritted your teeth and sealed you lips together but as his fingers made contact with your stomach, you let out a soft moan mixed with a slight scream. 
"just like that. scream for me." he said, continuing to weaken you with his touch. at this point, he knows what he's doing. his fingers digged in deeper into your skin, but not too much to the point that it'll bring you pain. your chest heaved up and down towards his touch, it felt so intoxicating yet unfamiliar. 
moments later, you felt hanbin's hand gripping the silk cloth that was wrapped around your head. he took the cloth away from you, bringing back your vision. "you have been good to me, princess. i guess you deserve your vision back." he said. 
hanbin brought you up and made you sit on his lap, your face started to burn red. "i like it when girls go crazy over men like me." he said, staring into your eyes. you really wanted to let go from his touch but this situation is really dangerous. you mess up, this may be the end of you. 
his lips went to your neck before kissing on it. you let out a series of soft whimpers before he found your most sensitive spot, making you let out a slightly loud moan. your body started to shiver all over. you had really submitted to his power. 
he smirked at your messed up expression, satisfied with his actions. "you look so pretty like this, y/n." he said. "maybe you were totally made for my special touch." he continued. you were unable to respond, so you only nodded. 
after minutes of leaving marks on your neck, he then stopped, his hand that traced your stomach went to your thigh, rubbing soothing circles. "you did well for me, baby." he said, giving you a sweet smile. 
taglist: @cacaokpop-fics @hangyeomcult
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yae-energy · 7 months
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰┈─✩ ˚ ‧ closet tour ! ‧ ˚
✧˖° synopsis : commonly worn items (or accessories) these characters may have .
✧˖° cast & crew : megumi fushiguro , maki zenin , yuji itadori , and yuta okkotsu .
.ᐟ content warnings : cursing , yuta lwk fighting for his life
⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ authors note : new layout !!!! we finally ditched the old one cause it was def time for her to GO 😭. all pictures down below are just for visual aid :)
~
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megumi <3 : friendship bracelets
he’s got so many of them, mf got one in every damn pattern and color you can think of. and he only has this many because one summer nobara got into bracelet making.
she convinced gojo to buy her a bunch of kits and she’s been a little busy bee since ! so now every time she shows up with a new bracelet megumi feels like he has to wear it— or at least this is what he claims whenever he gets asked about it.
he actually thinks it’s sweet she’s always giving him bracelets, he’s got one for almost every outfit so it’s always coordinating !
he even wears the matching one she made for him and yuji so the three of them are always matching.
~
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maki <3 : hair clips / claw clips
she absolutely hated them at first ngl
the only reason she started wearing them was because gojo would alwayssssssssssss buy them for her ,,
like for no good reason either, literally just cause she’s a teenage girl and sometimes girls wear hair clips. he also said she could spruce up her style a little bit because she’s “bland” and maki didn’t take that well 😭
one day though, she actually wore one of the claw clips he got her because she had no more hair ties and everybody thought she looked so cute and it made her feel nice, so she kept wearing them. over time they grew on her more and more, so she’s always got in a cute lil hair clip now.
but if she sees gojo she will immediately rip that shit out.
she wouldn’t be caught dead in something gojo gave her LMAO,, he’ll get a big head about it and don’t nobody wanna hear that.
she loves her little accessories though <3
~
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yuji <3 : the weirdest shirts imaginable
i don’t even know where to start tbh
like i can’t even tell you where he keeps find them become i literally don’t have a single clue,, but he’s always got one on.
it started as just a fun little thing where he’d where a silly shirt once and a while. but because he keeps find them he’s ALWAYS wearing one and they’re the most hilarious things ever, cause how are you finding these???
like bro will have on the most normal fit ever, but if he unzips his jacket or takes off his hoodie you get hit with them most random t-shirt ever 😭 and every time him, nobara, and megumi go anywhere they take a picture of him in his weird ass shirts.
they even made a little photo album of it for novelty purposes.
~
yuta <3 : a plain white t-shirt
i’m sorry yall… but yuta is a victim of the plain white tee epidemic 😕 i hate to say it.
and he absolutely refuses to let it go too. like bro is the number one consumer of the plain white t-shirt,, LIKE LET IT GO PLEASEEEEE IM BEGGING.
panda and inumaki are SICK and TIRED, like he gets clowned for it on the daily but he literally does not give a single fuck. he’s gonna wear the white t-shirt and you cannot stop him. but because of this lifestyle choice, everyone has banned from making comments about anyone else’s style.
like if inumaki puts on some bullshit he can’t say anything 😭 and it eats him up inside cause he knows if they hear one PEEP from him, he’s getting cooked BADDDD.
and every single time he catches yuji in those weird ass shirts he gets heated 😭😭 cause how they let him get away with it but he cant wear his shirts???
all in all, he’s forever a white tee lover 😕 can’t shit be done about it.
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⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ysl production credits : thank you to @ivanari for helping me with my layout !! live laugh irene
⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ tags : @morosis-haze @jogeto @mypimpademia @ivanari @planetlunaa @cosmiles @milesmolasses @chinieh @romiantic @stqrriichiigo
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if you wish to be tagged in any future works, here’s my tag form to fill out <33
if you wish to submit a request, here’s my ask box :)
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⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ closing notes : take care of yourselves please ! or i WILL hunt you down. also, for those who filled out my tag list and i wasn’t tagging you in any work, it’s just cause i forgot to check it lmao 😭. mb ! imma do better. i love yall bunches, mwah x2 .
- xoxo , yves <33
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turkeyinnovember · 8 days
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lab rats pt1
By the time Curt woke up, he found his spine aching from being left on the couch for… Damn, God knows how long. He blinked off the haziness and let himself roll off the couch, barely catching himself on the carpet with his knees. 
An elbow that landed on the coffee table hit something- a glass. The water inside splashed out and soaked his sleeve. He didn’t have a habit of keeping water on the table, though at the same time he didn’t have a habit of sleeping on the couch. 
He reached for the water, ignoring the neon sticky note on the backside while he drank, the faint taste of dust prompting him to question just how long he had been out for. With the cold water setting in his system and his mind clearing up, he was left with no choice but to recall what he’d done moments, hours, or even days ago. Curt pursed his lips and spun the glass around to read what he expected to be — and is — an uncomfortable reminder of what he does. 
‘thank you agent for your hard work, the subjects have been successfully detained. meet in 304’
Curt could almost snicker at where the director had run out of space to write and had to squish the letters together, but he didn’t have the heart to. Or maybe he was still woozy from the sedative. It wouldn’t make sense for him to feel bad for them. 
Regardless, it’d be a good idea to do as he’s told. 
But something… He whipped his head around to stare at the camera in the corner, almost visualizing it flash red. He finally gave up after it remained motionless, though he promised to himself that he’d get someone to remove the camera. 
---------------
After so long of being under disguise, dressing back in the suit felt almost strange to him. But, almost ironically, that foreignness was more familiar to him with the frequency of his missions— they weren’t a big organization.
Still, the halls of the building were familiar to him, the near manic look of the research team was just as before he left, and that corner with the scratched wall was familiar. He’d been here since he was a teenager and this is his home, he reminded himself as he pushed open the door to 304. 
There she was. 
She’d transformed the security room into a livable space, insisting on monitoring the entire building by herself. Only rarely does she ever leave to physically direct important processions. Perhaps she didn’t trust many people, perhaps she just liked being in control. 
Curt would hate to have to admit that he was at least a little afraid of her, it was especially ironic after growing up together and creating this entire scheme. Maybe distance was put between them the second she assumed her position as the lead of the organization and head researcher, and he was technically just an employee of hers. Maybe he was even viewed as more a pawn than anything else. 
Even though this started as their project and he didn’t care any less than she did. 
“How was the sleep, Sleeping Beauty?” 
Damn, well, he’s been in here for less than two seconds and he already wants to leave. “Not bad, considering I’ve been sleeping for three days.”
“Yeah, we extended the dosage a little.” She waved her hand dismissively, “I wanted to make sure they were the first things you’d see!” 
He stepped forward with the invitation, glancing over her shoulder at the security screen and cringing despite fully expecting to see the four. They were still out cold, tossed over the floor without much care despite bunk beds prepared for them. He wasn’t sure why that ticked him, it was expected for the personnel to treat them like this. The four no longer wore the clothes he last saw them in — now a uniformed, prisoner-like outfit — and they were decked out with sedative collars and location tracking bracelets. He recognize those and even assisted in the production. 
“It took a bit of time, you know,” She watched the still screen with unreasonable interest. She glanced at him, only then realizing that he wasn’t settled and dragged out a chair for him. “Oh come on Curt, sit down. …it was hard to run all the tests within the time the first dose could provide us, so we had to extend it. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Well, thank you then.”
She ignored the taunting tone and continued, “Not that we don’t trust you, I mean. Of course we recognize your ability to locate and rule out those who are and aren’t serpents, you are exceptional in your skill with a three out of four accuracy, yes, but after nearly eight months all you gave us was that you limited it down to these four.” 
Suddenly, she spun to face him. The grin at her lips now dragged out into a snarl and her eyes narrowed. “And what was that shit with using your birth name?” 
“I don’t recall any policy against it,” Curt rolled his eyes, “I’ve told you I recognize one of them from college and it’d be easier that way. Besides, I didn’t think it concerned you.” 
“How does it not concern me?” She scowled, “You get caught by the police and were all gone! If you want to die, don't fucking drag me with you!” 
A figure on the screen moved and Curt immediately shushed her. It seemed confused, before scrambling to wake the others. 
She clicked her tongue and turned back, tweaking the focus and zoomed in while increasing the volume with her other hand. 
“This is..?” 
“Livestream, yeah.” 
The silence between them pursued with the two concentrated on the screen. As the volume increased and camera adjusted, the audio grew clear and every movement of the four was transferred onto the screen.
“Yo, what the fuck is this?” Christian hissed, glancing around the room. His chin had sprouted uneven bits of stubble and some of his hair fell out of the ponytail. He drummed a finger on the floor, radiating a mix of anxiety and irritation.
“Yeah Ivan,” Den tried to brush her bangs back, uncomfortable with the absence of her hat. “What’d you do this time?” 
“Why is it me?” The man replied half heartedly, glancing around the room and scratching anxiously at his new collar. “What kind of asylum did we get arrested to?”
“I feel like we kind of need one anyway,” Unlike the others, Kristine never even attempted to pick herself off the floor. She lay on the ground with an air of pessimism as she loosened her braid and picked out the wilted flowers. 
“Goddamn,” Ivan held a hand out, checking the dried petals after she dropped one there, “How long have we been here for?” 
Christian climbed up and walked towards the door further in the room while Den turned to the closer one. 
Curt watched the director hum to herself as she clicked a few buttons and another monitor lit up. He leaned back and saw Den poke her head into the bathroom and meet his eye — not literally, but through the camera —
“What the fuck, there’s a camera in the bathroom?!” 
For perhaps the first time since Curt was able to befriend her, they had enough — as Kristine would put it — physic bond to synchronize a sentence, though the conditions were strange. He would have believed the echo from the monitor was his imagination if it hadn’t been for the weird look the director shot him. 
“Unfortunately yes,” She sighed, “There’s vents and mirrors in the bathroom, you know? Can’t risk them trying anything when we’re so close.” 
He made no comment. 
“Yo, that’s kinda weird!” Ivan squeezed past her and climbed on the countertop to face the camera, saying something else that Curt didn’t quite catch with his attention now on Christian. 
He knew the guy had a fiery temper, though over the years he’d gotten much more reserved… supposedly. He shuddered at the strength he used to tug at the door handle. A moment passed when he finally relaxed and pressed his forehead to the door, eyes still glued to the door knob. He seemed to sigh and took a few steps back… Only to jump-kick the door instead. 
He’d worry more for the door if he hadn’t known how much money went into the quality and security of this place. 
Hearing the noise, Den and Ivan rushed to join the two by the front, while the director radioed a few commands to the armed forces waiting outside and connected her microphone. 
“Please refrain from attempting escape, subject seven.” She announced, the speaker captured their attention and the questions poured at once. 
It was the usual procedure. When he had time to stay in the foundation, he was often invited to watch the director negotiate with the subjects and personnel. So, he wasn’t sure why his heart suddenly surged with fear when she leaned into the microphone.
She seemed to know though. 
With the same hand, she switched off the microphone and turned to him, “How much do you want to tell them?” 
“Me?” 
It was rare for her to ask for his input. He didn’t really care what she told them, though there usually is a script for the information the subjects are allowed to have. She seemed to believe that her ideas are superior to all others and they’d only ruin her project. Although, Curt feels like he understood why his opinions matter now. 
He felt guilty.
As expected, she didn’t actually care about his answer and cleared her throat as soon as the four quieted down. “This is,” she glanced almost tauntingly at Curt, “Michelle speaking. I am the director of this organization…” 
He wasn’t ready and somehow she seemed to know that. He couldn’t have her telling them he was behind this and she seemed to know before he could. He wasn’t ready for them to know he betrayed them. 
Please, he almost whispered. But instead he just wrapped his hand around something behind him. It felt like a mug. 
“How about we let someone else tell you more details? Introducing my right hand man,” She turned, grinning at him. Curt stared back blankly as he adjusted his grip. He couldn’t control his face to make any expressions, or make verbal threats for fear of his voice getting caught on mic. His nerves felt as if they were hanging by a thread and he swore he’d kill her right there on the spot the second his name came out of her mouth. 
He blinked and decided to act first. 
Kicking off the chair, he dashed for the mic. Side-stepping Michelle while twisting his torso to face her, his left hand shot in front for the power switch and the right with the mug was raised high in the air, threatening to strike had she made any moves. 
He relaxed his shoulders the second he felt the switch flip, though the blood that rushed his ears muted the click he expected. He didn’t consider lowering the weapon as he protected the mic behind his back and glared at the woman. He could hear the four in the cell start to discuss the crashing sounds he had made, moving from the mic he muted the monitors. 
“What the fuck?” She cursed at him in some type of whisper-yell, though an almost humored smile was present in her tone. Curt hated that. She too, had pushed off her chair and stood up, causing Curt to tense again. Sensing this, she raised both of hands in the air and stepped back, “You’d go this far? I mean, they'll know eventually… Whether they guess it or I tell them.” 
“Shut up,” Curt huffed, he scrambled in his mind for a suitable, appropriate answer for this situation, but when it came up blank he just choked back plainly, “How about you just shut the fuck up? Alright?” 
Distracted, he failed to notice her shift in position as she lunged forward at him and kicked him to the floor. He coughed as he collided with the wires on the floor, allowing himself one second to stabilize before he climbed up and chucked the mug as hard as he could at her head. Expecting the projectile, Michelle moved at high speeds and threw the chair she sat on earlier at him while the mug missed her by a few inches and crashed into the wall.
“You’re cleaning this shit up.” He heard her say. 
“Shut up.” His ribs ached. 
He heard chairs being dragged and someone flopping onto it. “You are also going to be the one that tells them.”
“Why?” 
“Why they have to know? ‘Cause I hate you, and I want to see you suffer, Curtis.”
“Why do I feel bad for doing this, my job, why do I feel guilty?” 
“Why are you asking me, aren’t you in therapy?”
“What’s different about them? This hasn’t happened before.”
“You know what else hasn’t happened before? You using your real name.” 
“Shut the fuck up, Michelle.”
---------------
Subscript Notes:  i'll post this onto ao3 when i grammer check and revision and all that jazz also sorry for not being on tumblr more school's been so fucking busy im just draggin out and waiting for easter break at this point constructive criticism and stuff r welcomed btw final draft will be on ao3 anyway
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kyotakumrau · 1 month
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2024.02.16-17 sukekiyo at Kyoto Gekijo
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I really wanted to write about each show separately but then the 17th was filled with too many exciting things and there was no time. So I'll try about them together. And because of the setlists it also feels like they both belong together anyway.
2.16 The first day flow felt like the young idol started bright and excited, innocent, but then fell, experiencing the dirty side of love and people, but wanted to find love somehow anyway. And it finished with 呼吸・kokyuu...
As the BGM they are playing another movie (sound only).
5 minutes to and then at 6:30 the theatre buzzer sounded to signal the start of the show.
They had the usual see through screen in front of the stage (always done for the seated shows). sukekiyo and the tour name appeared as the snow was softly falling in the dark. At the same time band members walked on the stage, Takumi first, followed by Yuchi and Mika, then utA and Kyo last.
And Takumi started the piano melody of Margaret. It's so nice that they again chose to start with the last song from the previous tour, like they're creating a connection between then and now.
The stage was mostly their normal setting, but Kyo's stand had a dark bouquet laying in the middle of the table, I'm pretty sure it was the one with the doll in it that he shared in his Instagram story. There was also a high chair on the right side of his stand, right next to it.
And a new addition were big light bulbs hanging on wires over the stage, one over each band member hanging lower and four more a bit higher, nine in total. When グロス・Gloss started they lit up but dimmed when song got quieter.
During 愛した心臓・Aishita shinzo Kyo was dancing, he also came close the screen stretching his arm towards audience. (but I'm always unsure how much they can see from the other side because of how the light works on the screen), he crouched when dancing. Kyo was very dancey, utA as well (I was sitting on utA's side that night, aisle seat though).
They all wore outfits from their last artist photos. utA's hair was more standing, full 90s visual kei style. Kyo changed his look having a very different hairstyle. Because he shaved his head to get a new tattoo in January his hair is still very short, like in Citta he glued things on though, for sukekiyo he had two thin pink braids, one on each side, styled in a way they created two rings. And he had the porcelain doll effect make up, shiny face with drawn eyebrows, dark eye make up and full lips. The back of his dress is quite open so we could see his tattooed back. And he wore pink tabi boots to complete the look. (you can check those tweets 1️⃣ 2️⃣ to see fans drawings of him, just pls don't repost)
Both Candis and Valentina were quite fun with the pen lights. And this part had a lot of dancey songs that even come with set dance moves... But since it was a seated show it was only Kyo dancing, with other band members rocking and jumping as well, fans had to endure and stay in their seats😂
With 口に林檎・kuchi ni ringo the stage went darker and Kyo was lit up by his mic stand's pink light. aftermath followed with the soft dark mood in the venue and the video on the screen. Some of the autumn temple has been edited and changed to pink cherry blossoms with petals scattering. Kyo sang standing by his mic stand, illuminated in pink.
And after the song ended Takumi played the piano melody that starts the session. Kyo softly walked towards the chair and sat with one leg over the other, very dignified, like a film noir singer or a diva. A black clothed staff member walked on the stage from the left side holding a make up case and started to 'do' Kyo's make up. He patted Kyo's face with a towel, he then used a sponge and a brush, then 'did' Kyo's lips. I don't think he actually changed anything but it was a part of the performance. Kyo stayed seated almost motionless through the whole process.
Then Kyo softly got up and walked to his mic stand, the session continued as Kyo joined singing. The cheerful idol from the start of the concert was gone by now, the innocence lost. The want, the hurt, the darker feelings took place to create someone new.
訪問者X・HomonshaX had Kyo dancing like a bug, very different from the way he danced as a cute idol.
It felt to me that the lights towards the end of the performance were changing between red - fiery, angry and strong - and blue - calmer and sadder, to me it felt like there was a battle of various emotions inside of our heroine. I aways have a ton of respect for Mika who is creating the visualisations for the shows. Like during 変わってくれませんでしょうか・kawattekuremasendeshouka? when the front screen is very simple and the sides are dark with water falling over Kyo in the middle as the rain is supposed to wash everything away.
During 夢見ドロ・Yumemidoro Kyo was dancing more seductively, even wrapped his leg around the mic stand, baring it to the people. During Scarlet Kyo was pointing his lips with his index finger, 'I want you to kiss me'. Even broken things want to find love.
And at the end the acceptance came and resignation. Ending with 呼吸・kokyu had many people crying, if they were not crying by then anyway.
At the end Kyo slowly turned and left the stage. The end credits started on the screen, the audience was clapping as the rest of the band members slowly left as well. But many people kept crying even then (yours truly included).
But we did get the Gion Matsuri tour announced! 4 days at Kyoto MUSE! I wonder how many people will manage to hit all tickets on one account... I'll try😂
2.17
One more thing that was different was Kyo's stand, on the second day there were no flowers there. So I guess it was a present for his birthday?
The setlist flow was was different on this day. They started with 訪問者X・homonshaX and Kyo's bug dance. He was also pointing at the audience as he sang.
During グロス・Gloss the light bulbs lit up again. There was one moment when Kyo made a movement raising his arms like he wanted to catch his light bulp between his hands.
The video for The Hole had a mix of colours and Kyo was dancing. He definitely had more of a seductress in his movements on the second night. He stretched one arm and moved the other with the music and switched them. The idol songs following felt quite different because of the way they started the set and the mood.
After aftermath the staff came again to 'do' Kyo's make up and it was followed up with a session. At the end the stage was quite dark with a simple spotlight on Kyo.
With 論外な生き物として・rongaina ikimono toshite I love how the song switches from soft to heavy, from Kyo carresing the mic stand softly to him headbanging.
And the hair set he had made it kinda interesting for headbanging 😆 he had thin pink braids glued to his hair again, this time the loops were shorter so the end of the brace was behind the loops. So they bounced when Kyo moved. He wore a cropped black top with puffy sleeves and strands of pearls over it. Flowy pleated black skirt and again pink tabi boots. Make up was very similar to the first night. (fan's drawing)
The rest of the band members had different outfits too. utA again had a very classic v-kei outfit, this time his hair was styled to the right side. Takumi had a long white collar outfit. Mika I couldn't see, from my seat Mika was obstructed by Kyo's iPad stand 😅 Yuchi had a sleeveless Nike top with long gloves, he changed his hair style too to add more braids.
I can't play any instruments and I don't have especially trained ears, but I'm always impressed with the sound quality at sukekiyo shows as well. I can cearly hear all instruments and they create this amazing harmony together. And I also enjoy the fact that band members use different instruments for some songs (like aftermath). I could hear the wonderful bass promised by Yuchi, Mika's powerful drums, utA's guitar, especially during solos, Takumi's piano and guitars. And Kyo's voice. 🖤
For ただ、まだ、私。・tada, mada, watashi. there was no visualisation on the screen, so it looked like there was no screen besides a bit of a smoke by the floor. There was light coming from the back of the stage and very lightly the band members silhouettes appeared above the stage. And because of this the stage appeared to be very deep.
I liked the flow of the last part of the setlist, it didn't feel as gut wrenching as the first night.
The end credits started aready during Margaret and Kyo calmly left as soon as the song ended. The rest of the band followed as fans started to give applause.
I'm so curious what we will see in Tokyo. Only one more performance left.
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strellzzz · 8 months
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OKAY GUYS I FINALLY GOT WIFI NOW I CAN REALLY START MAKIN STORYS. ヾ(*´∀`*)ノ
I ALSO WANNA SAY THANK U FOR 50 FOLLOWERS 🩷 .
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(okay so i’m gonna do my first lil fanfic)
' 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. '
(miles morales)
- you and miles have been dating for almost 3 months now.
your in your room making tiktok’s when all of sudden a message notification pop up on your phone.
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- when you saw that text you was getting kind of worried cause you don’t know where this text message is gonna lead to.
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you started smiling at your phone cause you loved when he called you “mamas”. you went on your clock app and set your phone to wake you up at 12:30 am cause you knew damn well you don’t be getting up early.
you put your phone down on the night stand and went to sleep.
11 hrs later ...
your alarm went off wakin u up. your half asleep and half woke. you looked at your phone and pressed snooze.
5 mins later...
your alarm went off once again. you sighed while turning to your phone pressing stop. you started stretching while getting up from your bed. you looked at your phone and you saw it's 12:37 , you thought to yourself and thought why would you set the alarm so early. you laid back in your bed and started facetiming miles. it took atleast 3 rings for him to answer , when he answered it was nothing but a black screen.
"hello ..."
when he said this you can hear nothing but his deep soft sleepy voice.
"you still sleep?"
"well i was ... but you called me.."
"why are you still up..?"
"i set my alarm to 12:30 and now i can't go to sleep."
it was a lil pause. all of sudden you heard moving noises and then you saw his tired face.
"why would you..."
you cut him off before he even finished his sentence.
"don't even ask"
"well just get ready and call me when your done"
"okay"
"ight"
he hangs up and you put your phone back on the nightstand. you got up out of your bed and went to the bathroom. you took off your clothes and went inside the shower washing every body part making sure you smell good. you get out the shower grabbing your towel and wrapping it around your body. you looked in the mirror while grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste brushing your teeth.
after doing your skin care routine and everything else you went to your room to try and find clothes to wear.
( just visualize what you want to wear )
you found the clothes you want to wear and you placed them on the bed. you took your towel off and started drying yourself with it. you started putting your bra and your underwear on. you eventually started putting on your clothes.
you took off your bonnet that you had on your head. eventually you started calling him.
he answered.
"im on my way"
"well damn."
"yeah. im just quick like that"
"you wanna see my outfit?"
"nah. surprise me."
you placed your phone down where he can only see your celling. you started putting on perfume and putting on your shoes.
all of sudden you started hearing a honk outside your house. you looked out your window. it's him
"im outside"
"okay give me a min."
you hung up and grabbed your purse while putting stuff in there like your lipgloss and wallet etc. you walked to your front door leaving your house.
you went up to his car. he got out the car and walked to you kissing you on your lips. he stopped and started looking at you.
"you look so good mama.. and smell real good."
"thank youu" you started smilin.
he opened the front door for you. you got inside the car , he made sure you was in there for he won't close the door on your foot or leg. he walked to his side of the car and got in.
he starts driving to his house. eventually you guys got there. you both got out the car and went inside the house.
as you and him were walking in he leads you to the living room. you see his mom and dad sitting on the couch together.
"mom. dad. this is y/n."
they both got up and walked towards you and him.
his mom: so this is the girl you always talk about!
she looks at you.
his mom: it's so nice to meet you! and you look so pretty!
"thank u!" you smiled.
his dad: better looking then that white girl he was talking too.
she turned around to jefferson and gave him that look.
his dad: WHAT ?? i'm just saying !! i didn't like her and you didn't either.
"dad..please " he started covering his face 🤦🏾‍♂️ .
his dad: my bad my bad.
his mom: anyways...
she looked back at you.
his mom: make yourself at home !
"okay thank you !"
miles grab your hand and took you to his room.
his dad: U BETTA KEEP THAT DOOR OPEN TO A BARE MINIMUM.
__________________________________________
i know it's alotta details 😭😭😭 i hope y'all like it also should i do a part 2 ?
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writersdare · 1 year
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Keep It Quiet | Ashton Irwin
Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader (she/her)
Summary: Ashton and Y/N kept their relationship a secret for a while, but one interview made the things a little complicated.
Warning: none
Word Count: 1 819
Author’s Note: I figured I'd write a little piece about Ash, so this came to my mind. I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Maybe I should write the 2nd part? Let me now. Requests are open ♡
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It’s been few months since Ashton and Y/N kept their relationship a secret. Obviously, the friends and close people knew, but for others it was still unknown, even though, fans were guessing everything right from the very beginning. To be fair, they started to talk about these two a year ago, when Ashton and Y/N only met. They were good friends at first, yet, people were constantly asking if they were dating. Perhaps, it was just too noticeable they were always drawn to each other.
In any case, no one had a desire to scream about the romance just yet. Ash and Y/N wanted to keep it private before sharing their little secret to the world. Three months felt more like a year, though, as that’s for how long their feelings were blooming. They moved in together rather quickly, it happened almost naturally and no one even thought it was a rushed decision. Maybe because Y/N was used to stay at his place anyway, before they became a thing.
They met at work, so it was double awkward at first. Y/N was responsible for a creative part of the band’s new album, no one obviously planned to become that close. She preferred to keep her personal life and the job separate, and the guys were always like that, too. After all they were professionals. Ashton was taking it even more seriously than others, that’s why it was so hard for him to make the first move. It was a totally relief, though, when the work was done, and Y/N became more of a friend for everyone. They were constantly going out all together, and that’s when Ashton figured it was the right time to act.
“How about this one?” he entered their bedroom in a black patterned shirt and dark jeans. The guy looked at Y/N in the mirror, while she was doing her hair. 
The album just came out, and the weeks were busy with the press. Apart from music, the band put a lot of effort into a visual part, and as a creative director, Y/N was attending some interviews with the guys to explain the whole art concept behind the album. 
The girl looked at her boyfriend in the mirror, but then turned to Ash and made a short step back to see his outfit fully. The musician was staring at Y/N, waiting for her verdict.
“Uh… I like the first variant better.”
“Really?!” he sighed and threw up the hands in the air, being annoyed he had to change again.
“You look good in this one, too, babe. I just like you in that velvet jacket better,” Y/N shrugged and came back to her hair.
“No, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, looking at himself in the mirror. “Plus, if I put on a black shirt, it’d be better with the velvet,” Ashton concluded and glanced at Y/N, hoping to hear her opinion again. He was always like that, if the guy was unsure about something, he’d prefer people to tell him the same thing few times. As if he was checking if they were certain.
But Y/N only nodded, focusing on the curling iron.
“Are you nervous?” Ashton sensed her mood immediately and touched the girl’s shoulder. She looked amazing, and the musician made sure she knew that.
“Just a bit,” Y/N said honestly.
“It’ll be alright, sweetheart,” Ashton gently kissed her temple and smiled a bit, looking at her in the mirror. The girl gave him the same warm smile.
It was getting harder to keep everything private, as on the interviews they’d be asked about their relationship all the time, and it was annoying. Of course, managers were giving a set of questions hosts were not allowed to touch, but they couldn’t put them two on the list, otherwise it’d be too obvious.
“When is your car coming?” Y/N asked, when Ash went to the bathroom to change the outfit again.
“In twenty minutes. Yours will be in half an hour. Will you make it?” she heard his voice through the wall.
“Yeah, I’m almost done,” Y/N nodded.
Maybe it was a bit ridiculous, but rather necessary — they were going to the radio station separately to avoid too many questions.
Ashton left home earlier, and Y/N arrived shortly after the band. Introducing each other, the sign “on air” lit up, and the interview has begun. The program was going live on YouTube as well, so the lovebirds were sitting purposely away from each other. Ash was sitting in the end of the couch with Calum, Michael was in the middle, and Y/N was sitting in the corner with Luke. The interview shouldn’t have taken too long, it usually lasted about twenty minutes, so doubtfully anything bad could happen. Y/N sill felt like she was on the edge, but the presence of a friend next to the girl was calming her down. Asking the band few questions, the host drew his attention to her. 
“So, Y/N, tell me how was it working with the guys, how the process looked like? Where did the initiative come from? I know you’ve been working with some amazing musicians in the past, Coldplay, Harry Styles, the list goes on and on. Is the working process always different?”
“Um, yeah,” she smiled and nodded, relaxing a bit, as the question was familiar. The boys turned heads to her, so Ashton thought it was an okay time for him to stare, too. “I was really happy the guys reached out to me, it was exciting. The process is always very different, I mean a lot depends on the music and if, um, an artist already knows in what direction they want to go to, if the music is somewhat ready. With these guys it all went almost naturally,” the boys nodded. “I feel like when we first met, we already got plenty of ideas,” Y/N glanced at Luke, as he was sitting next to her.
“Yeah, that’s true,” he nodded. “I think it was clear from the very begging that we understood each other, you know.”
“Yeah. It was also helpful the guys knew what they wanted to see. It’s harder when someone reaches out to you with no idea or concept. Surely, it’s my job, too, but if someone has no clue, no matter what we start to do, everything would seem wrong.”
“Did you have such experience in the past?” the host continued the conversation. “When the artist would contact you, but have no idea what they wanted from you?”
“Oh, yeah,” Y/N nodded.
“Can you give a name?” everyone started laughing, Y/N shook her head, smiling.
“No… But to be fair, it still can work out in the end. It’s always fun to try different ideas, I feel like we also had really a lot, before sticking to the final visual concept.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure, we tried to be as open as it was possible to the new ideas,” Michael agreed, actively gesticulating like he always did.
“Now, Y/N, we all know what’s happening on the Internet, so I just have to ask you and Ash if there is something going on between you, guys?” the host was smiling wide, clearly trying to get the truth from them, and Y/N only hoped she wasn’t blushing.
“I’m as single as it can be,” Ashton joked and smiled, being obviously annoyed.
“Alright, you heard this first on the radio! Y/N? Do you have someone special in your life?”
Y/N had no idea how these questions were related to 5SOS and the album, but she only smiled, ignoring a little sting she got when Ash answered the question first.
“I’m single, too. I know it’s a rather boring answer, but I’m currently focusing on my projects and, well, love comes when it comes,” she nodded with a smile, and the girl could swear she felt a tension that was growing between her and Ash running through poor Luke and Michael in the middle. To be fair, Ashton was first, who answered in a particular way. He could just say they were friends. But she was also certain that they both hated to lie. They just had to. Y/N continued. “We’re all good friends, we care about each other and, I guess, maybe someone just got a wrong idea because of that,” she shrugged.
“Alright, just friends then,” the host nodded and continued the interview, which all of a sudden became more of torture.
As about five minutes left, they started to play a game “who is more likely to”. The questions were quite innocent and simple, so everyone finally relaxed and were answering openly, fooling around time to time.
“Okay, next question,” the host said, smiling. “Who is more of a mom in your group?”
“Ashton,” Michael said right away.
“Yeah, Ashton…” Calum mumbled, thinking. “Although, I’d say Y/N was taking his place– “
“Yeah, I actually agree,” Luke giggled. “Y/N is more caring, would always bring snacks or ask if we drink enough water...”
Ash chuckled and nodded, remembering a story he actually did not need to tell on the radio.
“That’s definitely Y/N,” he looked at her, smiling and trying to hold giggles. “Remember, when we just woke up the other day and…”
Everything happened as if in a slow motion. Y/N kept smiling, trying to hide the horror on her face. Calum’s eyes widened, and Michael glanced at Ash to give him a hint to shut up. Luke hurried up to interrupt and save the day.
“Oh, yes, we were renting that house for a while to isolate ourselves from the civilization and just focus on music and art, and the other morning we went downstairs, Y/N was already there, making breakfast for everyone. That was rather sweet.”
Y/N nodded with a smile, deciding to go with that story, even though it had never happened. It still wasn’t too far from the reality, she was caring by her nature, indeed. And the girl definitely was coming to the studio with some snacks for everyone before.
“Yeah, that was sweet,” Calum nodded, supporting a lie. Ashton just kept smiling and nodding, feeling like an idiot. Until the end of the interview he preferred to stay silent and answer only when he was asked directly.
“Well, that was really close,” Calum commented, taking a seat in a car next to others. They were going to have another interview, so Y/N was coming with them.
“I know,” Ashton sighed. “Thanks a lot, mate,” he glanced at Luke.
“That’s alright, I think it all worked in the end,” the guy nodded with a supportive smile.
Everyone agreed with him, having no idea that meanwhile the fans were analyzing the video from the live interview and talking about Ashton’s and everyone else’s reaction when he almost told a story about him and Y/N waking up together.
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– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @uservalentine
© writersdare | all rights reserved
All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡
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Competing For Christmas 3: Jingle Bell Rock
Pairing: Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader
Word Count: 12,097
Rating: M. Language, consumption of alcohol, brief allusions to prior relationships.
Summary: With three events to play during trivia night, you and Din are going to find out whether or not you make a good team very quickly. 
Author’s notes:
Listen, I am SO THRILLED you’re all enjoying this as much as I am. I’m having a blast writing this, and I really hope that even though this one’s a little longer, it doesn’t lose anyone in the middle. Christmas Din is fantastic ... and even though Grogu’s not in this chapter, please know he’s happily snoozing under the tree at home while Din goes to trivia night. 
Questions, concerns, comments? My inbox is open! You should all know the drill by now.
To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares​ and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)
... Check out the masterlist page for three links to the events of the chapter - you don’t have to play along, but they’re fun interactive visual aids! 
Masterlist  / Part 1 / Part 2
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You got to the bar fifteen minutes earlier than you’d told Din to be there - not because you wanted to be waiting for him, but because in an attempt to make sure you weren’t going to be late, you’d started getting ready much earlier than necessary. 
It wasn’t a date, and the only place the two of you would be that night was inside of a building with the other teams and random stragglers that were just there to watch - but you’d still taken extra time on your appearance. 
A nice pair of boots went well with a newer pair of jeans, and to combat the temperature - which had dropped significantly overnight, you were wearing a thick cable knit sweater in a dark slate gray. It’s just a winter outfit. It’s nothing special. With one final look in your rearview mirror, you closed your eyes and reached for the door handle, stepping out and onto the concrete of the parking lot. 
There were other people walking in, but none of them paid any attention to you - until you heard your name called out in a deep, rumbling voice. “Hey, wait up!” Stopping in your tracks, you spun around and saw Din hurrying across the parking lot, the man wearing the same coat from the previous night, though it was unzipped. And there’s no hat today. 
As he approached, you stared at him, eyes wandering over his face and hair, the chestnut brown locks in a disarray that would have looked unkempt on anyone else. On Din, though, they looked fashionable, almost like he’d done it on purpose. Maybe he did. Maybe - “Sorry, I got here a little early…. Looks like you did, too.” 
“Yeah, I didn’t know how busy the parking lot would be.” It rolled off of your tongue smoothly and you congratulated yourself on how nonchalant you sounded as he took his place next to you, the two of you heading for the doorway. “Guess I didn’t have to worry, but…”
“Well now we can order a drink before we start.” He pulled the door open and gestured with one hand for you to step in front of him, and even though it wasn’t necessary, Din placed his hand on your lower back as you passed, the pressure of his fingers light but still there. 
You shivered and then swore under your breath at the contact, gritting your teeth. Get it together. “We can.” Heading for the main open space, where a few extra tables were set up, you pointed at a bulletin board hanging on the wall. “Our assigned table number is on there. Why don’t you find it, and I’ll go grab the first round?” 
“I can do that.” He frowned briefly. “If you want -”
“No. This one’s on me.” Pointing at the bar, you grinned. “I’ll order us something to eat, too. Anything you don’t like?” 
“I’m not picky. But…” He smiled at you, tilting his head to one side. “I love the wings here, if you wanted to share?” 
“Got you. But I meant beer-wise.” He thought for a few seconds and then cleared his throat. 
“No IPAs. I like dark beer, but if there’s something you think I should try, I’ll do it.” You didn’t think he was trying to impress you, instead it seemed like Din was legitimately giving you a chance to order him something that you thought he would enjoy. And I appreciate that. 
“Alright. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He nodded once and turned away from you and toward the board, letting you head for the bar. Sliding in between two of the empty stools, you waved down the bartender - a young girl that you’d never seen before - and then leaned forward to answer her greeting. “Hey. I’m here for the trivia, is it possible to put in a food order here and have it brought to our table?’ 
“Of course.” She grinned, reaching for a tablet. “Open tab or closed, and do you need to see a menu?” 
“Keep it open.” You paused, thinking. “And no. I’m ready to order.” She nodded and you tapped your fingers on the wooden bar top, nodding back. “Can I get an order of the buffalo wings with extra blue cheese and ranch, and then an order of the loaded baked potato dip?” The girl typed quickly, her eyes moving over the screen, and when she looked back up at you, you continued, making a split second decision about the beer you wanted Din to try. “And then two tall Christmas stouts, please.” 
“Sugar rims?” She cocked an eyebrow at you and your affirmative reply was almost immediate. “Ok, let me have your card so I can run it.” You handed it over and then glanced around the bar, trying to see if you could find Din. It didn’t take you long - your eyes landed on the man, seated and without his coat, balancing his chin on one hand as he scrolled through his phone. “OK, great. Give me a minute to get your drinks, and -”
“We’re at table …” You squinted. “Eight.” The girl thanked you, adding that to the tablet. She set the device down and then turned away from you, busy with grabbing glasses. It gave you a few seconds to take a deep breath and attempt to relax, but the reprieve was short-lived when you heard someone else say your name. What are you doing here? “Hi, James.” 
Turning your head toward the sound, you forced a small smile, the man sitting three seats away with one other person between you. “Didn’t know if you’d found someone else to partner up with, so I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” 
“I am.” Trying not to scoff - or roll your eyes - you stared at him. “I’ve done this competition every single year since I turned 18, James. I’m not going to change that this year just because I had to switch partners last minute.” 
He stared at you, eyes moving over your face, and for a brief moment, you wondered if you were being too short with him - too rude - and then you remembered the way he’d just assumed that you’d be the one to leave your life behind at the drop of a hat when and if he landed his dream job. No, I’m giving him exactly what he deserves. 
“You know, I’ve wanted to call you.” He leaned forward, frowning. “I thought maybe we could talk about what happened. It’s been a few weeks, so -”
He was interrupted when the bartender brought your drinks back, the woman sliding them across the surface toward you. “Here ya go. Your food order’s in, shouldn’t be too long. You’ll have it before the first round of trivia starts.” Thank you. 
“That sounds great.” Nodding as you wrapped your fingers around the cool glass, you lifted both beers from the counter and then returned your attention to James, deciding to keep things civil. “I’m going to head to my table now.” Swallowing hard, you nodded once. “Have a good night.” 
“It was good to see you.” James blinked, shifting in his seat. “So can we -”
“Goodbye, James.” Cutting him off, you headed back toward your table heart pounding as you moved away from the bar and toward Din. He didn’t stand when you approached, but he did move two coasters from the short stack at the center of the table, setting one down in front of the seat across from his. “So I got you a Christmas stout, Din.” Setting both of them down, took your seat. “They’re really good, and -”
“Hey.” It was only one word, but you heard authority in it, though it wasn’t the kind you were used to. Instead of using it to command your attention, Din’s tone simply reminded you that he was there and aware - and there was definitely a difference. “I saw you talking to your ex up there. You alright?” 
You met the man’s eyes again, lips parted slightly as you thought about making an excuse - and then decided not to. “I’m OK, Din. Thanks for asking. I just…” Sitting down, you shook your head. “I wasn’t expecting to see him, and … it was a shock.” 
“He didn’t throw you off your game, right?” Din nudged you with the tow of one boot as he reached for his beer, pulling the glass and the coaster toward himself. “Because we’re about to spend the next couple hours deep in obscure Christmas trivia, and I need you. If we’re going to win, you’ve got to be good at this.” 
He was trying to distract you and it worked, your mouth snapping shut as you pressed your lips together, picking up your drink, too. “No, I’ve got this, Djarin. A couple sips of this and some food, and it’ll be like he wasn’t even here.” 
“Good.” The man murmured the word, nodding. “I’m gonna taste this now.” And he did - lifting the rim of the glass to his lips and tilting it up. You watched as he swallowed a healthy gulp, pulling the glass away and then licking his lips to clear the remainder of the sugar crystals from them. It took a few seconds but then his eyes widened, the man taking another drink before he set the rest down, grinning at you. “That’s fucking great.” 
With a relieved laugh, you finally tried yours, eyes closing at the familiar combination of cinnamon, sugar and toffee, the flavor just as crisp as you remembered from previous years. “It is, isn’t it?” You went quiet for a few seconds and then said Din’s name, waiting until he was looking back at you to continue. “Thank you. Really.”
“Don’t mention it.” He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair, shrugging. “I just don’t want him to ruin your night.”
“He won’t.” With a wry smile, you linked your fingers together atop the table. “He doesn’t get to do that anymore.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Din didn’t say anything else, though, instead spending the next few seconds just watching you, his expression relaxed and the corners of his mouth curved up in a small smile. He looked warm and cozy in the confines of the bar - the inside of it already decorated in strands of multicolored Christmas lights and garlands, a large tree set up in the corner near where the service station for the outdoor seating area was usually positioned. And that makes me… feel better, too.
The man had dressed just as casually as you - another Henley, that one in a deep red that contrasted with the tanned skin of his forearms and upper chest - which is was visible due to the fact that he had three of the buttons undone. It was distracting, because he was distracting, but you could tell that he hadn’t done it to draw attention to himself. No, he’s just comfortable. “What are you looking at, Din?”
Frowning, you narrowed your eyes, the man’s expression changing to one of shock. Why? It’s just a question. “You.” His answer was just as shocking, though, and at the single word, you sat straight up, knocking into the chairback with the movement. “You’re really done with him, hmm?” 
“I am.” Averting your eyes in an attempt to keep it together, you picked your beer up again, distracting yourself with another drink. “We were together for three years, and even when he explained to me that he thought I needed to be ready to up and leave Mistletoe with him if and when he got his promotion, he couldn’t… wouldn’t say that he’d ever thought about marrying me.” 
“So you don’t want to leave here?” He was frowning again, head tilted to one side. “You’re planning on staying here indefinitely?”
“No. It’s not the leaving that bothered me, and it’s not even that I need to be married, either. I guess I just didn’t want to risk uprooting everything for someone that wasn’t… that didn’t want to think about a future with me.” Setting your glass down, you relaxed again, shoulders slumping briefly. “I don’t care if it’s a couple hours away, I wouldn’t want to move somewhere, get dumped and then have to figure out everything on my own.” 
“You could do it.” He tapped his fingertips on top of the table. “It wouldn’t be fun, but if anyone could handle something like that, it’d be you.” 
“You don’t even know me, Din.” But the compliment from him made you smile, heat rushing to your cheeks even as you dismissed what he was saying. “All you know is that I sometimes lock myself out of the fingerprint reader at the office, and I get overwhelmed by emails and alerts, and -”
“I don’t know you yet.” Holding up one finger, Din raised an eyebrow. “But after this competition, I will.” There were a ton of things that you wanted to say - countless ways that you could have reacted to his words, but instead of saying anything, you were interrupted again by one of the competition organizers, the woman stopping next to your table with a sealed envelope and a few loose sheets of paper - one of them with a lot of text on it, along with a small basket that had pens and pencils along with bingo daubers in it. “Hi.” 
Seamlessly, he turned his attention to the woman, his smile growing. “Hello to you two.” She held the items up, grinning. “I have these to deliver to you. The envelope contains the stuff for the different rounds tonight, and the extra paper’s got instructions on it, plus some empty sheets for notes.” Din took the envelope from her while you grabbed for the loose papers, eyes scanning the detailed instructions, though you quickly returned your attention to the woman. “Keep that sealed until we tell you to open it, and you’ll be good. Any questions?” 
“No.” Smiling at her, you shook your head. “It’s pretty straightforward, right?”
“It is.” The woman backed away a few steps, still watching the two of you. “We’ll be starting in about fifteen minutes, so if you need to get a refill on your drinks, or use the bathroom, or -”
“That’s where I come in.” The bartender was behind her, that woman smiling, too. “Got an order of buffalo wings and some loaded potato dip?” The organizer stepped even further away, telling the two of you to have fun, and then the bartender set the food down, following it with small plates. “Did you want to order another beer? Get it in and make sure you’re set for the first round?” 
“Sure.” Din nodded, his eyes moving from the plates to the woman, and though she was pretty, you were surprised to see that he looked at her with nothing more than friendly interest, his eyes not lingering in one place for too long. “Another one of these sounds good. How about you?”
“Yeah.” You agreed, figuring that you could have a second drink and then let yourself sober up for the rest of the night. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 
“Alright, on the same tab?” The bartender looked to you, waiting. 
“Yea-”
“No, close hers and put this on mine.” Din shifted and reached for his wallet, the man pulling out a credit card and handing it over. “Thank you.” She nodded and took the card, heading back for the bar. “You paid for food, it’s fine.” 
“Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, you reached for your class and lifted it, holding it out and across the table toward the man. “We should make a toast.” Thinking, you wrinkled your nose as you looked around the room. “To beating all of these other teams at trivia and getting a head start on winning this competition.” 
“Alright, sounds good.” He nodded, fingers closing around his drink. “Can we also add a toast for you teaching me about the way you celebrate the holidays?” We can, but that’s not a traditional toast. “Or maybe to new friends? To a great Christmas?”
“All of the above.” Tilting your glass, you clinked the edge of it with his and grinned, raising it to your lips and taking a drink. To a new friend at Christmas. “Do you want to read these rules?” 
“I do, but those wings look great so I’d like to start there.” Laughing, you set your beer down and reached for the smaller plates, handing him one. “You can have some if you want.” Thanking him, and telling him that the same was true for him and your dip, the two of you spent the next few minutes eating in silence, the noise around you growing louder and more and more people showed up and your replacement beers were delivered. “So do people come in and watch this event?” 
He wiped at his face with a napkin, gesturing with that hand when he was done. “They do. And they can play along, too, but it’s not like normal trivia where they get to turn their answers in for points, because that would be too confusing.” 
“So it only counts for us?” Nodding in agreement, you shifted in your chair to look around the bar and were surprised to catch James’ eye again, the man still sitting where he had been. He didn’t look away and you stiffened, hand pausing mid-reach for your mostly empty beer glass. Din caught the pause immediately, saying your name. “Do you want to switch seats? I have no problem with him staring at me all night if it means you’re more comfortable.” 
“I…” You didn’t want to say yes, but part of you knew that if you didn’t, you would be distracted - and you didn’t want that to happen, either. “Sure, Din. Thank you.” 
He stood while you were still speaking, moving to your side of the table and waiting, and when you stood, too, your purse in one hand, Din reached out and squeezed your elbow. “No problem.” 
It didn’t take you long to get situated in his seat, and with some surprise, you realized that he’d left his jacket hanging over the back, which meant that as you settled, you could smell his cologne, the scent faint but present. “He’s going to stare at you all night.” You reached for another waffle fry, dipping it into the remaining mixture in the bowl between you. “Probably -”
“Let him.” Din bit into his last wing, shrugging. “I don’t care. I don’t know him, so it doesn’t bother me.” You felt a wave of gratitude for the man and told him as much, but Din waved you off, his smile in place. “Like I said, as long as you’re comfortable, I’m alright.” 
You didn’t know if he was flirting or just being a decent person, but either way, you appreciated it, Din beginning to tell you a story about something that had happened at work. He only got halfway through it when the event organizer - Tina - began to speak into the microphone. 
“Alright, we’re going to get started in about five minutes, so if you’re competing in the trivia contest tonight, make sure you get any last minute food or drink orders in and use the bathroom.” 
There was a flurry of movement, but neither of you stood up, instead choosing to stay in your seats. I’ll go between rounds. 
As the minutes ticked by, you felt your nerves getting more frayed - though it was just competition jitters and had nothing to do with Din sitting across from you. “She’s coming back to the microphone.” He sighed, stacking his fork and napkin atop the plate of wing bones. “And everyone’s sitting down, and -”
“Alright, everyone, we’re about to start.” Tina took the stage again and the room went quiet, everyone’s attention shifting to her. “I’m going to explain the rules to you, and then ask each team to open their envelope.” Din held yours up, grinning, and you didn’t try to stop your answering expression, teeth digging into your lower lip as you nodded. “Inside your envelope are three additional envelopes marked 1, 2 and 3, to correspond with each round.” 
The woman continued explaining things, and even though you were familiar with the progression of the event, you listened closely. The night started out with general Christmas trivia, and Tina informed you that she would read each question out loud, and teams would have 30 seconds to write out answers before someone would have to deliver the slips of paper to the front table. “How will they know it’s ours?” Din frowned, glancing at you. “That’s a lot of -”
“The table number is on the back of the answer slips, usually.” Speaking quietly, you looked away from the front of the room. “But this way people can’t change their answers, and the points will be tallied by someone as the round goes on, not all at the end.” 
The second round was Christmas Music Bingo, and there were individual bingo boards in the enveloped marked “2”. “We’ll play five rounds of that, and each round lasts until we get three bingos.” She scanned the room as she explained the rules. “The team that has the most combined bingo wins between them at the end wins that round.” 
“I’m horrible with Christmas music,” Din muttered, rubbing at his forehead. “I -”
“Don’t worry.” You reached over, laying your hand atop the one that he had on the table. “I’m great at it.” And you were - you could identify most of the songs in only a few seconds, and were quick with the dauber. “It’s slower than regular bingo, too, because they play five seconds of each song, so you have plenty of time.” 
He looked worried but didn’t say anything else, and as Tina continued on, explaining the third portion of the event - a general word scramble - he looked much more relaxed. “I’m good with puzzles.” Din wet his lips, his eyes locked on your face. “That’s a relief.” 
I hope so. 
“We’re going to get started so go ahead and open envelope number 1.” Tina spoke again, and you made a split second decision, saying Din’s name. 
“Come sit next to me, that way we can share answers without having to yell across the table.” Your heart was pounding - not only because of excitement but in response to your suggestion. Keep it together, this is just .. it’s strategy, it - 
“Good idea.” Din swiftly moved and dragged one of the chairs to the corner of the table so that he was sitting much closer, his knee brushing yours as he scooted in. “Now we can whisper, and no one will hear us.” Yeah. We can. 
“Alright. Phones and tablets away, and please remember - if you’re just an observer, you cannot help the teams competing. If we see anyone attempting to cheat, you’ll be eliminated from the event and from the competition. Tina cleared her throat. “Just a few more seconds while everyone gets situated…” She trailed off and you and Din began arranging things in front of you - the stack of answer cards, the question sheet, the scratch paper and an extra pen - he methodically lined everything up before handing you the second pen. 
“You take it. I’m sure your handwriting is better than mine, so you should write the answers down.” 
“Alright.” Taking a deep breath, you closed your fingers around the pen. “Let’s look at the questions, and -”
“No.” He laid his hand over the sheet, shaking his head. “If we look, we’ll be thinking ahead and trying to answer too many things at once. Let’s just go with her as she asks. One question at a time.” 
It was a different strategy than the one you’d used before, but you agreed - wanting Din to feel like you were listening to him and including him, and so you pulled one of the blank sheets in front of you, pen poised. “You’ve got it, Din.” 
A few seconds later, Tina read the first question, and you were thrilled when Din spoke up right away, his tone confident. “A star. I’ve seen enough of them around to know that.” 
Writing the answer down, you folded the paper in half and held it out to him, Din grinning as he jumped up to carry it to the front table. He was still smiling as he made his way back to you, and you hoped that his good mood would last throughout the rest of the night, too. “They won’t all be that easy.” He sipped his beer, getting comfortable in the seat. “Some will be really hard.”
“That’s fine.” He said your name, turning his head to look at you. “We’ve got this.” 
And things went smoothly until question 7, which was a math question. “There’s not enough time to add everything.” You were panicked, frantically writing numbers on the sheet of paper. “I -” 
“Each day is the same number of gifts as the number, right?” 
“Right.” Your heart was beating quickly. “But we -”
“Give me a second.” He closed his eyes, thinking. “Wait, the song says that the gifts are repeated every day, though, so it’s not the same number of things over and over, it’s new…” He trailed off and reached for his pen, scribbling down a few things, his brow furrowed. “Alright, it’s… Maker, I hope this is…” He looked at you, letting out a breath. “It’s 364.” 
“What?” Your eyes flicked to the timer - down to five seconds. “Din?” 
“That’s it. I promise.” 
You had  nothing to lose and so you wrote down the number, folding the paper over before you carried it up to the front, the rest of the teams following. If he got that right, I’ll be really impressed.
When you took your seat again, Din was beaming, the pen still in  his hand as he pointed at the paper with it. “What?” 
“I’m right. I did the long math while you were up there.” You glanced at the equations, and even though you didn’t have time to work them out in your head, they looked correct, and you told him as much. I would have been wrong. “Everyone’s going to say 78. And that would be right if they were only counting the last day, but…” 
“I would have said 78.” Covering your mouth, you sighed. “So I would have been wrong.” 
“That’s what I’m here for.” He elbowed you, but didn’t have a chance to continue before the next question was read, both of you putting your heads back together. 
There were a few tough ones, but you worked through them - guessing on a few that involved making fudge and Santa ads, going against your own habits when it came to deciding if more people used real or artificial trees, and very quickly giving Din an explanation of why a pink bunny suit was a gift that a young boy got from his aunt in a movie that he’d never seen. 
But you were having fun - and even though you tried hard not to think about it, you were focused on the fact that you and Din worked well as a team, the man listening to your ideas and answers, and not outright making you feel stupid when you gave answers that he didn’t agree with. I could get used to this, you admitted as you delivered the answer to question 17, nodding at the man that took your paper before you turned back toward your table. I could get used to being like this with him. 
And that was dangerous, but you couldn’t help it, settling back into your seat as Din pointed at the question sheet. “I looked at the next question while you were up there. I haven’t seen this movie, so I don’t know.” 
“It’s three.” Chewing on your lip as Tina began reading the question. “Past, present, and future. It’s supposed to help Scrooge understand what he did wrong and how he’s still got time to change, and …” You wrote the number down as you spoke, looking up at the clock. “And it all starts when his dead business partner tells him that he’s going to -”
“Isn’t it four then?” Din leaned in, tapping his index finger on the table. “The three you mentioned and then the business partner?” Oh, shit, he’s right. Quickly scribbling the “3” out, you wrote “4” just as the time ran out, dropping the pen on the table and turning your head toward Din. 
“I could kiss you right now. You just saved us a point, Din. I’m an idiot, and -”
“Let me go turn it in.” He raised an eyebrow. “Otherwise it won’t matter if I was right or not.” He plucked the paper from your fingers and stood. “Be right back.” You watched him go - and let yourself think about what you’d just said, one hand rising to cover your mouth in horror. Oh, no. I just… 
He hadn’t seemed upset, though, and even though your heart was pounding at your admission, you tried not to let it bother you, the comment an offhand one that anyone could have made. People say that all the time, right? People talk about … 
Kissing him for knowing the answer to a trivia question was one thing - but the fact was, the more time you spent with him, the more you thought that you wanted to kiss him for real, even though you knew it was a bad idea. Not a good idea at all, so stop thinking about it. “Lots of threes on those papers.” He sat back down. “Either everyone else is wrong, or we’re the only ones that didn’t get it.
“No, you’re right.” Biting your lower lip, you forced yourself to speak. “The business partner was definitely a ghost, too.” I should have thought of that. I should have realized it was four, and not three and … “We’ll know soon enough.” 
Question 19 was simple, too, and as you wrote the answer down, Din told you quickly about how he’d been to the ballet as a child and had actually seen The Nutcracker, and when you sat back down and finished your beer, you handed him the pen you’d been holding, watching as the man’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this?”
“You write the last one.” He took it from you, not breaking eye contact. “They can read your writing for one question.”
“Alright, then what’s the answer?” He scratched the back of his neck with one hand, shrugging. “Because I have no idea. Is it somewhere in Europe? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Poinsettia in anything but a bucket, and …” Din trailed off. 
“No, I don’t think so.” Frowning, you covered your face with your hands. “It’s not America. It’s not Canada. I don’t think it’s Europe. I remember someone saying that they came from somewhere warm, so South America, maybe? Chile? Peru? Brazil?” 
“Colombia? Ecuador? Venezuela?” Din tapped the pen on the paper, leaving tiny black dots in its wake. “Anything sounding familiar?” 
“No.” You groaned. “Nothing is popping out, I don’t… I don’t have any idea.” He lifted the pen and let it hover, staring at the blank sheet. “Just put something, Din. We have no time. We have to turn in an answer, and -” Eyes on the sheet, you watched as he scribbled down Panama and then stood up, uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s fine, Din. We can miss one.” We probably missed more than one, anyway. “Just turn it in.” 
He moved slowly that time, pausing before he dropped the paper into the waiting basket and then turned to come back. You didn’t like the look on his face - disappointment didn’t suit him - and so you opened your mouth to tell him again that it was fine, but he didn’t let you, holding up a hand. “I’m going to go use the bathroom while they’re tallying everything up. Be right back.” 
He turned away before you could reply, and once he was out of sight, you reached for your purse, pulling your phone out and typing the question in. Shit, it was Mexico. You groaned, flipping the phone over and letting the screen rest against the tabletop. We were close, I guess… 
That meant that there was at least one out of 20 that you’d missed, but you hoped that getting one of the harder ones would make up for it. That’s all I can do now. “Can I take anything off your table?” 
The bartender was back, standing next to where you were sitting, and with a nod, you gave her permission to clear the dirty dishes and finished food, along with your empty glasses. “And I’ll take a Coke, please. I don’t know if he’s going to have another drink, but -”
“I’ll have a Coke, too.” Din reappeared, a tiny smile on his face. “That sounds good.” She assured you that she’d be back in a few, and then Din sat back down next to you, leaning in. “We were wrong.” 
‘I know.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “It was Mexico.”
“That’s alright, though. I think we got enough of the other ones to keep us in the top portion of that section.” He scratched at his cheek, sniffing. “And there’s still two more games to go.” 
“Well the next one is more luck than anything.” You pointed at the envelope. “Just depends on how quick you are and what’s on the board.” 
“Speaking of luck,” Din continued, his attention on the stage in front of you. “Your ex, James? He was in the bathroom. He walked in as I was walking out, and I’m pretty sure if looks could kill, I’d be about 12 feet under right now.” 
“Well he’s going to have to get used to seeing me with other guys if he’s planning on staying in Mistletoe.” You scowled, doodling on the question sheet in front of you, the black ink swirling over the page. “Dating or not. That’s what happens when you break up with someone - they move on with their life, even if you don’t like it.” 
“Well he definitely doesn’t like me.” Din’s smile was bright, the dimple on his cheek deep, and you were overcome with the desire to reach out and press your thumb over it, cupping his cheek with your palm. But I’m not going to. I can’t. “I didn’t say anything to him, though. Just nodded and walked out.” 
“Two Cokes.” The bartender came back, plastic cups in her hands. “And it looks like I’m just in time, too. Good luck.” 
She was - Tina was heading back to the stage, microphone in hand. You and Din thanked the young woman before she stepped away, and soon after, your attention was fully on the stage in front of you, the heat and heft of Din’s body noticeable to your left. He could have moved back. There’s no reason for us to be next to each other here. 
“Round two is about to begin.” Tina tapped the mic, staring out at the crowd. “But before we start that, we’ll announce the winners of the trivia round.” She paused and you looked over at Din, the man’s attention straight ahead. He’s more competitive than I thought he was. “It was close, and we actually had a three-team tie for third place.” I hope that’s not us. “Team Holi-daze, Danny Quizito and Threepeat all had 16 points.” 
“That’s a good score.” Your frown deepened. “I’m not sure we could have beat that, and -”
“We don’t have a team name.” Din leaned closer, the man’s breath warm on the skin of your cheek. “There wasn’t anywhere to write it, and -” Shit, no we don’t. 
“We had  to fill it in on the website, but I never did. I -” You swore, swiping at your face with one hand. “Shit, I completely forgot.” 
“Smarty Pints, you’re in second place with 17 points.” Tina continued, turning her attention to the table immediately to your right, the two people sitting there cheering. One more shot. “And to our first place winners, we’re going to need a team name from you, because right now, all we’ve got is a table number.” She spin toward you, holding one hand out and pointing. “Table eight, congratulations, you had a score of 20, thanks to getting one of the bonus questions right.” 
You moved without thinking, leaning over and hugging Din, the man’s arms going around you briefly before he pulled away, his smile broad. “Can’t believe we did it!” He was excited but then caught himself, head shaking back and forth. “But we need a team name. What should we tell them?”
“I don’t care. You pick.” You were thrilled with the win - but even more thrilled at the fact that Din had returned your hug, the man’s hold firm as he pulled you to his chest and held you there, even though it was only for a few seconds. I liked how that felt too much. Way too much. 
“Anything?” You nodded, agreeing. “Ok. Um…” Cleaning his throat, Din held up one finger. “Our team name will be …” After thinking through it, you saw the moment Din came to a decision, another smile lighting up his face. “How about Clan Mudhorn?” It made no sense to you - though the phrase sounded slightly familiar, but you had no objection. It’s different, that’s for sure. 
“Alright then.” Tina wrote the name down on the paper she held before picking it back up. “Clan Mudhorn is in the lead as of right now, but the unpredictability of the next two rounds mean that it’s still anyone’s game… and with that, we should get started on the musical bingo portion of the night.” 
She instructed you to open the second envelope, which contained ten bingo cards. The letters and numbers were replaced with titles of Christmas songs, and as you scanned the sheets, you decided that there was no real way to predict which would be the right choice for the rounds. “How does this work?” 
“She’ll explain it in a second,” you murmured as you counted out five sheets and handed them to Din. “But basically, you just listen to the song played and then mark it down on the sheet.” Pointing at your own stack, you glanced over at him. “Each team uses two sheets per round, so we’ll use all of them, but you’re only allowed to have one per player per round to make it a little more fair.” 
“Got it.” He was frowning as his eyes scanned the boxes. “I don’t… I don’t know half of these.” 
“It’s fine, Din,” Reaching over, you squeezed his hand. Just do what you can, alright? There are three winners per round, so we have a three in sixteen chance every time.” Pulling your hand back, you went quiet, eyes going back to the sheet of paper on the top of the stack. We just need to win one each round, and that will be enough to keep us out of the bottom of the ranking. 
And you believed that - but your thoughts were much more focused on the way it had felt to touch Din’s hand, the way his skin was soft and warm, the slight flex of his muscles as he moved his fingers. I want to hold his hand for real. It wasn’t the time, but it was the truth, and as the two of you listened to Tina go over the rules one final time, you looked over at Din again, finding that he was watching her with intensity, his dark eyes focused on where she stood. “Can you do me a favor?” 
He said your name, finally breaking his gaze away from her and looking back at you. “Yeah?” 
“Will you whisper the name of the song under your breath when you figure it out?” He looked - and sounded - worried, but you agreed immediately, telling him that you’d already planned on it. “Thank you. That’s the only way I’ll even have a chance … what he hell is a ‘Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays’?” 
“The best Christmas song from the 90’s that isn’t Mariah Carey, and it’s not even close.” You shrugged, deadpanning your answer. “Din, it’s not Christmas until you hear that song, and Justin Timberlake’s -”
“Oh, so it’s a boyband.” He raised an eyebrow. “That the kind of music you like?”
“Not so much now, no.” Wrinkling your nose, you continued. “All of the new stuff is … meh.” You sipped your drink, shrugging. “But back then? Those were the good old days. Britney and Nsync and Backstreet Boys and even -”
“You might as well be speaking in a different language.” Din grinned. “But I’ll take your word for it.” 
“I’ll play you a couple whole songs sometime. You’ll only hear a few seconds of them tonight, and it’s not enough.” He rolled his eyes playfully, and you gestured to the two bingo daubers in front of you. “What color? Green or red?” 
“Red. It’ll match my shirt.” He reached for it at the same time you did, and before you could stop it from happening, his fingers closed over yours, his palm warm against the back of your hand. You sucked in a breath, attempting to pull back, but Din’s fingers flexed again, keeping yours in place. 
Turning your head to the side, you met his eyes, Din’s gaze warm and his mouth set in a tiny smile. “Din, I -” You closed your fingers around the dauber and Din’s hold also tightened. Well I got what I wanted, kind of. “What are -”
“Alright we’re going to get started.” Tina’s voice cut in, the woman tapping on the mic twice. “Five seconds of each song in each round, and we’ll continue until we get three bingos. The music will pause as soon as someone claims a win, and start again after it’s confirmed.” 
At the sound of her voice, Din released your hand and you dropped the dauber, switching to the green one and uncapping it as you looked away, chewing on your lower lip. Ok, that was awkward. “Good luck, Din.” 
Out of the corner of one eye, you watched as he reached for the remaining marker, his other hand straightening the sheet of paper on the table in front of him. “You too.” 
It was the second time that night that you’d questioned yourself for the things you’d said or done - and even though Din hadn’t reacted negatively to either case, you could feel that your heart was pounding, nerves getting the better of you - and it had nothing to do with the competition. I like him, you admitted to yourself as the music started, Jingle Bells blaring out over the speakers. “Jingle Bells.” 
He thanked you, marking the song off on his sheet while you did the same, and then the song changed to one that wasn’t on your card, though you used the opportunity to mark off the center square. I think I really like him. 
It wasn’t the right time to think about it, and so you tried not to, pushing your unease to the side and focusing on the songs that played, muttering titles under your breath for Din. He scooted closer every few switches, the man’s thigh pressed against yours, and even though you wanted to read more into it, you knew that it was only so that he could hear you more easily - but you weren’t about to complain. 
The first bingo came from a different table, and it was quickly confirmed, but Din’s was the second, the man jumping to his feet and waving the paper in the air. With a smile on your face, you watched as it was confirmed and marked down before he returned to your table, the smile still on his face. “One down, five to go.”
“Hopefully it’s more than that.” Your reply was quiet as you focused back on your own card, but it was pointless - the third winner called two songs later. “I needed one more and I would have had a triple bingo.” Frowning as you folded your board in half and set it aside, you reached for another sheet. “So close.” 
“Next time.” He settled into his seat, pushing his sleeves up past his elbows. “Four more rounds to go. Maybe we’ll both win one.” You hoped he was right - but it didn’t happen during the second round, three winners coming in quick succession before either of you had even marked down more than a handful of squares on your sheets. “Hey, it’s fine. We won the trivia,” Din cleared his throat before the third round started, saying your name. “That counts for something.” 
“It does. I’m just … I don’t like losing.” He leaned in, mouth set in a firm line. 
“I don’t either.” Tapping the table with one fingertip, Din shook his head back and forth. “And we won’t. So stop worrying.” 
“Alright.” Music began playing and your eyes widened - your attention going back to the sheet in front of you. “Last Christmas, Din.” It was a cover, but it still only took a few seconds for the entire bar to start singing along, and you were delighted when it continued for longer than the five seconds all the others had played for. 
When you looked back over at Din, grinning as you sung along, too, he looked confused but intrigued, his lips slightly parted as everyone hit the chorus, but at the sight of his laughter, you stopped singing and laughed, too, shoulders shaking. Oh, I really like this. 
The song tapered off, and Tina gave everyone a chance to settle down, the sound of clapping and cheers filling the bar for a few seconds while you and Din continued to laugh together. “So everyone likes that one, hmm?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a joke around here. There’s a game and everything, and it involves trying to avoid hearing the original between Thanksgiving and Christmas Day, so that’s why they played a cover.” You took a deep breath. “No one lost that game, we marked off a couple squares, and -” 
The music starting again interrupted you, but it was Din that told you the name of the song, the man bent low over the table and moving his dauber into place as you stared on in shock. He knows some of them, then. 
Two songs later, it was you that rose from your chair, paper in hand as you shouted ‘bingo’ and headed for the front of the room, still smiling as the music ended. It was quickly confirmed, Tina’s assistant making off a “3 - #1” on the corner of your sheet and congratulating you. 
Din did the same when you sat back down, though his attention very quickly went back to his own bingo card. Watching intently as he continued to mark off the songs as you told him the titles, you cheered out loud when he marked off a final square and got a double bingo. Din’s voice carried over the sounds of Michael Buble singing ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’, the man hurrying to the front of the room with his card in his hand. So it’s like we’ve won once each round. This is good. This is enough. 
When he sat back down, Din was giddy, the man getting his 4th card situated before he turned his head to look at you, wetting his lips. “We make a good team.”
“We do.” You answered without hesitation, smile wide. “This is really fun, Din.” He agreed, and then the fourth round started, both of you turning your attention back to the sheets in front of you. It was tough - you got nothing for four songs in a row and then your luck changed, green circles appearing on your sheet one after the other until you got a bingo - at the same time someone else did, both of you making your way to the front of the room to wait your turn. 
It was confirmed, too, and you could see the look of concentration on Din’s face as he waited for the music to play again, fingers holding the dauber tightly. Your anxiety grew as more songs played, but the room stayed quiet, and before you knew it, Din was on his feet again, the man claiming bingo as he rushed to the front of the room, pushing through tables of people. Seriously? 
He had a smug look on his face when he sat back down as Tina told everyone to switch to the final round’s sheets, and you couldn’t help laughing, your elbow shooting out to nudge against his ribs. “C’mon Din. Don’t be a sore winner. It’s still not over yet.” 
“No, it isn’t. But five seems like a really good number to have right about now.” You agreed, but there was no time to talk further because the music started playing, and unlike the previous round, you were marking squares off from the beginning - though Din wasn’t. 
That all changed though, when you heard the next song start, Din marking the space on his board before you’d even opened your mouth and then turning to you and holding a hand out while he mouthed the words. “Are you actually ….” 
He wasn’t alone - there was another round of cheers as the rest of the bar joined in, laughter and clapping almost drowning out the sound of Mariah Carey, but what really surprised you was hearing Din actually sing the words, the man’s eyes full of laughter as he shimmied his shoulders in time with the music, never missing a beat. 
You joined in quickly, closing your eyes and shaking your head as you laughed through the lyrics, your voices mingling with everyone else’s as the song continued to play. Oh, this is perfect. 
When you opened your eyes again, you saw that Din was still singing, and when he saw that  you were watching, he reached out again, palm up. You reacted immediately, placing your hand in his, and when he squeezed you didn’t feel the need to pull back. Instead, you curled your fingertips against his palm while he pressed his free hand against his chest, voice getting louder as he promised he wouldn’t even wish for snow. 
It was somewhat impressive that he knew all of the lyrics - especially after he’d warned you that he wasn’t great with Christmas music, and despite the fact that you didn’t want to think about him, you had a brief flash of the previous year and James sitting rigidly in his chair while the rest of the bar erupted into song, the man ignoring all of your attempts to pull him into the fun. But Din’s not … he’s … he’s enjoying this, and … it’s not fake. 
Din didn’t, however, attempt to hit the high note at the end, instead trailing off as he gave your hand one final squeeze and then let go, burying his face in his hands and resting his elbows on the table, both of you laughing while the song wound down. “That was something else, Din.” Leaning closer you briefly rested your cheek against his shoulder before straightening up. ‘Didn’t know you could sing.”
“Oh, I can’t.” He lifted his head and looked at you. “My … friend back home always complains about my singing. He says that I sound like a yowling Loth cat  …”  Din’s eyes widened as he trailed off, shaking his head quickly. “He’s just joking, so…” What’s a Loth cat? 
But you didn’t ask, and instead, you rolled your eyes again. “You sound fine, Din. This isn’t a singing competition, and you should be really thankful for that, because I’m not great, and we’d definitely lose.” 
“I’m sure you’re fine.” He was smiling again, the song ending as the bar erupted into another round of applause. “Alright, I guess we’ve gotta get serious again.” He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, picking up the dauber again. “Get it together, Djarin.” Yeah, I need to get it  together, too. 
You didn’t know if Din was going to bring up the fact that you’d held hands for an extended period of time, but until he did, you decided that you wouldn’t. Either. I don’t want to put him on the spot. Marking off a few squares, you froze at the sound of someone calling out bingo - only to relax a few seconds later when she yelled out that she’d been wrong. That’s a relief. 
Din was close again - there were four songs that would give him a single bingo, and you were almost positive that he’d get it before you did, but then you went on a three-in-a-row streak, your card almost entirely filled with green dots. “We’re so close.” You groaned as a song neither of you had played, your eyes darting to the bar around you. “We just need -” 
And then the familiar lyrics of ‘Frosty The Snowman’ started playing and you and Din both jumped to your feet, waving your papers - but so did three others, the five of you rushing to the front of the room. Shit. I don’t know how they settle a tie.
Tina took a step back, though she asked for everyone’s sheets, and as the woman eyed all of you - Din standing slightly behind you with his chest pressed against the back of your shoulder - she nodded twice. “Alright, so since you all called it at once, if these are legitimate bingo wins, we’ll let you five claim for this round.” 
It was a change in the rules but it was fair, since there was no surefire way to know who’d marked and claimed a win first. “This happen often?” Din whispered the words in your ear, his tone low and the man’s warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Changing the rules like this?”
“Sometimes.” You swallowed hard and fought the urge to lean back and into him, instead turning around so that you were facing each other. “This just makes it fair. There’s no advantage, and since everyone won on the same song, it just means the round is over fast.” He nodded, eyes on you, but before he could say anything else, Tina, returned to the microphone, the woman’s smile wide. 
“Arlight, all five are confirmed wins. Take your seats while we tally up the numbers, and we’ll announce the winners in fifteen minutes - just before the final round starts.” Din’s fingers brushed your hip as he turned away from you, heading back toward the table - and you followed closely, still stunned with the fact that out of seventeen possible bingo wins, you and Din had seven of them. That has to be enough. It has to. 
He took a seat while you bypassed the table, heading for the bathroom, and while in there, you gave yourself a few moments to catch your breath. The night was overwhelming you in the best ways - it was fantastic to spend time with Din, it was amazing that you were winning, and it seemed like he was having a great time, too…but there was still a part of your brain that was telling you to be careful. Don’t overthink this. Don’t … get ahead of yourself. 
You didn’t think you were - Din was sending out the classic signals, and even though you were trying hard not to outright react to them, you knew that you hadn’t been entirely successful. But that’s ok, because like Cara and Stacy said, I’m single. He’s single, and this can … this can happen. If it… if we want it to. “Get it together.” You spoke into the mirror, shoulders set. “Get it the fuck together.” 
“Talking to yourself?” One of the other competitors - Meagan - was in the bathroom, too, the woman washing her hands at the sink next to you. “It seems a lot more intense this year, and this is only the first night.” 
“Right?” Turning your head to the side, you smiled. “It’s hard not to get competitive, even when it’s just over trivia.” The woman laughed, drying her hands off before she turned to face you, arms crossed over your chest.   
“So, your partner.” She licked her lips, arching a brow. “Are you together, or -”
“No, we’re not. We just work together. James and I broke up, so I needed a backup, and … Din agreed.” 
“He’s hot.” She ran one hand through her hair. “Really hot. Is he single?” It hit you like a knife to the chest, and though you managed to keep your reaction hidden, the question - and subsequent answer - almost hurt. 
“He is, I think, We haven’t really talked about it, but he’s never mentioned a girlfriend, so…” 
“Hmm.” Meagan winked at you. “You gonna go for it?”
“Go for it? With Din?” You laughed, but the knot in your chest began to loosen - the simple fact that she hadn’t asked if he was single for herself comforting you more than it had any right to. “We’re just teammates and coworkers.” 
“If you say so.” She wiped her hands and then crossed her arms. “Couldn’t help watching him sing to you, and you would have to be blind to have missed the way he was looking at you.” What? He was just … it was just a song. “That man being single is a miracle, and I doubt it stays that way for long, especially if he starts coming out more.” She uncrossed her arms and moved toward the door. “This is a small town. There’s only so many places to hide, and I can promise you that putting him in this competition is going to make people want to get to know him. He seems fun.” 
You followed her out of the bathroom and back into the bar. “He is fun. We don’t know each other well, but …” Frowning, you looked down. “Thanks, Meagan.” 
“Hey, for once, I’m glad Stacy was right about a guy.” She laughed as you reached her table, the woman sinking down into a seat next to her sister. “She told me he was eye candy and wasn’t lying.” Of course she did. The woman winked at you before you turned away and closed the distance to where Din was sitting, the man scrolling through his phone with one hand. 
“Ordered you a refill. Figured you’d want one more drink for the last round.” He glanced up, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. “Hope that was alright.” 
“Yeah.” You sat, scooting your chair slightly to the right and putting some distance between you. “This last round’s a little less hectic, but …” 
“I hope I didn’t overstep when I grabbed your hand earlier.” Din said your name quietly, “I know you’re just getting over a breakup, and I don’t want you to think that I … want, or … that I’m…” He was stumbling over his words - and because you could hear the sincerity in his tone, you decided to cut in, reaching over to settle your hand atop his again. 
“Don’t apologize. I didn’t mind. I don’t… I don’t mind.” Being honest was important to you, and you didn’t want to jeopardize things with Din by lying - even about something small. “I liked it. I like you, Din. And I’m not sure what that means right now, but … it’s the truth.” 
He sat in silence for long moments, eyes on you, and then the man smiled, the expression overtaking his face with a slow grace, his lips parting to expose straight, white teeth, the dimple appearing on his cheek again - and a slight flush creeping up his neck. “I like you too.” He closed his eyes, blowing out a breath. “Good to know I’m not alone in that.” 
“You’re not.” You rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. “Not at all.” 
There was more that you wanted to say, but before either of you could, Tina was back on the stage, the woman clearing her throat to quiet everyone down. “Alright we’ve got the results here from the previous round, and it looks like yet again, Clan Mudhorn came in first with 7 total bingos!” 
“Hey, we won!” Din pulled his hand out from under yours and then hugged you again, holding on for a little longer that time than he had the first. “Does that mean we -”
“Congratulations to the two of you, but, remember - the third portion of tonight, each correct answer is worth one point… so if someone gets all of them and you miss a few, they can still catch up.” She continued and listed the teams that had come in second and third place - one of them Smarty Pints, which meant that they were right on your tail. But we can still win this. He said that he’s good at puzzles, so… “You’ll have five minutes to complete as many of the answers on the page that you can, and at the end of the time, we’ll collect the sheets from you, and then count compare them to the answer sheet.” 
“Sounds simple enough.” Din murmured the words, fingers inching closer to the envelope. “You can write again.” Laughing, you picked up the pen and twisted it between your fingers, waiting for the go-ahead. 
And then Tina gave it, the woman telling you to open your envelopes and pull the sheet out. Your eyes widened at the sight of the print on the page. “Sixty? How the hell are we -” 
“Hey, this is easy, come on.” He ran his finger along the margin of the paper. “Just do the ones we know right away, and then work through the harder ones.” I’m glad one of us is calm. There hadn’t ever been that many questions to answer before, but you took a deep breath and pulled the sheet closer to you, turning it so that you could write out the answers. 
The two of you were able to guess just under half of the words at first glance - things like tape and ribbon, sled and cards. He got just as many words as you did, and while you completed your first pass on the sheet, Din went back to the beginning, the man muttering things under his breath and using the spare pencil to scribble on one of the spare sheets. “Remember,” Tina’s voice cut in. “Things have to be spelled correctly to be counted as right answers.” Shit. 
You made it a point to go back and check what you’d already written, and when you were satisfied that everything was right, you looked over at the man, waiting. “Any others you want to share with me?”
“Actually, yeah.” He grinned, pushing his sheet over to you. “Here.” 
He’d written down twelve more answers for you, along with the numbers on the page, and you hastily filled them in, being sure to check the spelling - and make sure that you were using all of the provided letters. “That’s… you weren’t lying.” He’s fast at this. 
“I know.” He reached for the paper and slid it toward him, eyes scanning the empty spaces. “We only have about 20 left. We should…” Trailing off, he pointed. “Angels.” You filled it in, and by the time you were done, he had another one for you. “Secret Santa.” 
You were smiling as the time wound down, and even though you felt rushed as you entered in a few more - Prancer and Scrooge and Decorations - you weren’t upset when time ran out and you had empty lines - and neither was Din. 
He took the sheet to the front, laughing with Tina as he handed it over, and when he sat back down next to you, he settled his hand on your shoulder. “That was a hell of a lot of fun.” 
“It was.” You felt his grip on you tighten, and you turned your head toward the man, wetting your lips. “I think that this was … a good idea, Din.” 
“Yeah?” You nodded, unwilling to look away. “I think so too.”
“So you don’t want to drop out? Switch partners? You’d be at a disadvantage, but I’m sure Omera would -”
“No way.” Din’s smile grew. “She’s got nothing on you.” I agree, but I’m not going to say that out loud. “Tonight’s proof that we work well together like this.” He was still touching you, the man’s thumb arcing slowly over the front of your shoulder. You could feel it - even through your sweater, and again you were struck with how casual things were between you - his touch simple but meaningful - unable to be ignored but not too forward. He’s holding back, I think. He has to be, otherwise - 
“Good job tonight.” You saw Din’s eyes flash briefly, the man pulling his hand away - but not hastily, giving your shoulder one final squeeze before he returned it to the table and picked up his glass. Of course. 
“Yeah, we did a good job, didn’t we.” Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you tore your attention away from Din and looked up at the man standing behind you. “This is my coworker, Din. Din, this is my ex, James.” 
“Hey.” Din shifted in his chair, his eyes passing over your face as he reached up with one hand to shake James’, the other still holding onto his glass. “Guess I should thank you for me even being here, hmm?” 
“I…” James frowned, slowly extending his hand and taking Din’s, the seated man’s fingers engulfing the other man’s. “I guess so?” 
“She told me you were supposed to be her partner, and then when you broke up a couple weeks ago, she needed someone to take your place.” He was choosing his words carefully - you knew it, and if the glint in his eyes was any indication, Din knew that you knew it, too. “And I mean, we don’t know who won yet, but I’ve got a good feeling about our chances, so…” He let go of James’ hand, hooking his elbow casually over the back of the chair. “Feel pretty good going into the next event.” 
James’ jaw twitched - you saw the motion of it but he stayed quiet and just looked at Din - and then at you. It was somewhat satisfying to know that he was uncomfortable. Even though Din hadn’t outright been rude or overstepped, making your friendship out to be more than it was, you were thrilled to see that he wasn’t backing down under James’ stare - and that he hadn’t gone out of his way to confirm that the two of you were nothing more than coworkers. Because even though it’s true, it shouldn’t matter. 
“I do, too.” You looked away from James and grabbed your cup, taking a drink. “I met Din at work. He started what, 8 months ago?”
“About that, long, yeah.” Din’s lips twitched at your addition to the conversation, the man nodding in agreement. “Can’t believe you remember.” 
“Well the last IT guy was absolutely useless. Remember I used to complain about him?” Rolling your eyes, you turned back to Din. “It’s been different at the office with you around.” It wasn’t a lie - but it also wasn’t the entire truth; the differences weren’t only limited to his on the job capabilities. It’s been nice having him around for a lot of reasons. “Anyway. Thanks for coming over to congratulate us, though.” I’m done with this. 
“I…” James spluttered over his words, scoffing. “I also … we never finished our conversation from earlier, at the bar? I wanted to talk to you about -” 
“We did finish it, though.” Giving him a tight smile, you blinked twice. “I have nothing else to say to you about what happened between us.” 
“I thought we -” 
“You thought wrong.” At the last second, you changed your tone, the words coming out in a firm - but not angry - tone. “It’s over, James. We want and expect different things, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.” 
There was nothing more that he could say to that, and so he gave you a final look and then turned away, your eyes following his back as he retreated through the crowd. Shit, that was… 
“You alright?” Din’s question surprised you, though when you looked over at him again, there was genuine concern in his eyes. “I hope I didn’t … say anything you didn’t want me to.” 
“You didn’t.” Laying your hand on his forearm, you looked down at the placement of your fingers, noticing a thin, silvery scar that curved over the space just beneath his elbow. I’ve never seen that before. “I appreciate you speaking up. I don’t want to give him any sort of false hope that I’m going to get back with him, and if he knows that I’m… moving forward and not just ignoring the place he used to be in my life, it… it’ll do that.”
“Well I’m happy to take his place.” Din paused. “That sounded… I meant here, for this competition.” The words were rushed, Din ducking his head again. “Not that I think anything else is -”
“I know what you meant, Din. And I’m happy you’re here, too.” You trailed a fingertip over the scar for a second and then pulled your hand back. “In whatever capacity this is.” 
His head shot back up, eyes wide as they found yours,  but there was no time for explanation because Tina took the stage again, a piece of paper in her hand. The bar went quiet as she smiled down at the crowd, holding up one finger. “I told you that this round could change everything.” 
“Oh, no.” Din groaned, lowering his chin. “Shit, we…”
“In third place overall, we have Team Caffeine, who got 34 of the word scramble answers correct.” The two of them stood as Tina continued. “They’ve won a $25 gift certificate to the coffee shop downtown, and take 15 points into the second event.” People clapped politely as the two of them collected their prize and sat back down. “Second place goes to Smarty Pints, who edged out Team Caffeine by five points overall thanks to their second place finish earlier.” She paused to let people clap. “They win a $25 gift card and a guaranteed order slot to Jenelle’s Bakery for two dozen Christmas cookies or cupcakes and twenty points going event number two.” 
“That’s a good prize,” you mumbled, wrinkling your nose. “I wouldn’t have been mad about that, those cupcakes are amazing.” Din laughed from next to you, but it was short lived as Tina raised the mic again and looked around the room before her gaze landed directly on your table. 
“And I think we all know who the big winners are. Clan Mudhorn got 47 of the words unscrambled correctly, which only added to their lead, and they’ll be taking 25 points into the next event, along with winning a night out - dinner here along with a pair of movie tickets.” 
You were frozen in your seat, but Din urged you to your feet, the two of you heading up to collect your prize. Tina handed him the envelope but he immediately passed it to you, thanking the woman before you made your way back to your table. “We won!” It finally sunk in when you sat back down, the bright red envelope held tightly in your hands. “Din, thank you. I couldn’t… wouldn’t have won without you, and -”
“Nah, don’t mention it.” He was excited too, though, and you wanted to memorize the sight of his grin and the sparkle in his eyes. “Team effort, right? You carried us through the bingo, and -” He cut himself off, running one hand through his hair. “And listen, if you want to use that with your friend Stacy or Cara, or -”
“No way.” You slid the envelope across  the tabletop so that it sat in front of him. “We won it, so we should use it together.” Oh, shit. I… “Only if you want to, though.” 
It took him a few seconds to look back up at you, but when he did, you saw that he was holding back a smile, the man trying to keep his tone even even though you saw the happiness in his eyes. “Are you asking me out?”  
“Yeah. I guess I am, Din.” 
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