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amorevolous-chionophile · 3 years

Text

Mommy

❆ Fluff ❆ 5,710 words ❆ dad!Hongjoong x babysitter!reader ❆

@soft-black-teabag is the precious mastermind behind this idea 💜

"Yes I understand... Yes... Yes I will be there." Hongjoong sighed as he hung up the call and mentally cursed. His boss called, saying that he has to jump in to fill a shift urgently to help, as his co-worker called in sick last minute, since he lacks work hours. He glanced to the living room to check up on the reason of his lacking work hours, his little princess and he couldn't help but smile as he saw her happily playing with her designer's kit for children which he somehow managed to afford for her birthday since she proclaimed that she wants to be just like her daddy. Since he was taking care of her alone, he had to miss shifts from time to time as there were instances where none of his friends could fill in for him. He prayed that this wasn't one of those times because his boss warned him that if he doesn't show up to work in two hours he will get fired and he couldn't lose that job. Hongjoong took on a great number of jobs through the years to have his little minion live a nice and happy life. He keeps each of his jobs for as long as the boss is tolerant enough of him being late or missing whole shifts. He hates that he gives them a hard time, but raising a child as a single parent isn't an easy job and he is trying his best, he really is. Hiring a babysitter was an option sure, but Hongjoong couldn't afford one and even if he could, there was no way that he would ever leave his precious child to a complete stranger. He sighed once more before tapping in the message to the group chat, there are seven of them, surely one of them is free, right?

Wooyoung was in the middle of a game when a notification rang, signaling that a message had arrived on his phone. That wouldn't have been a problem if he wasn't in class and the notification didn't echo through the classroom. The college professor gave him a threatening look from above the rim of his glasses to what Wooyoung smiled nervously and pretended to move his phone back to his pocket before muting it and proceeding to read the message as soon as the professor looked away like nothing happened seconds ago. You eyed him judgingly from the seat next to him. "Wooyoung, you are going to get in trouble." Not that most professors at college care if you are on your phone, laptop, are you listening or not... But this one was a bit of a nitpicking pain that always says that you should respect the time which he is giving to you in order to gift you knowledge by at least listening. He always made it sound like he doesn't get any compensation for what he does, not like he gets paid. Wooyoung looked at you with the most offended face he could make. "Don't talk in class you'll get us in trouble." He put a finger to his lips and couldn't help but smile to what you rolled your eyes and smiled as well returning your attention to the professor as Wooyoung returned his gaze to his phone. He entered the group chat to find that everyone already responded. He scrolled to the first message to see what all that was about, just to find Hongjoong's panicked message about needing someone as fast as possible to look over his child. Wooyoung loved that child like he was her uncle, and not just him, all of the boys warmed up to that little ray of sunshine. As he scrolled he noticed that none of the other boys were available, for valid reasons and he mentally sighed as he had to tell Hongjoong that he wasn't either. Wooyoung: "I have a makeup exam. I must retake it, it's half of my mark. I'm really sorry." This time he audibly sighed. He had major respect for Hongjoong, the guy was torn on million sides, he sacrificed his college and his free time for the sake of his child. That's why he felt bad for not being able to do anything in this situation. Seonghwa: "Hongjoong, could you please reconsider all that about the babysitter?" Yunho: "Yes, please, if money is the problem we can help you with that." Hongjoong: "I know, but even if I agree, how can I get any babysitter to come in less than an hour? No worries guys, I'll just find another job." Wooyoung was too preoccupied with his phone and thoughts of how to help to notice the professor eyeing him suspiciously. You however noticed and nudged him to snap out of it or he won't even have the chance to take that makeup exam. He rapidly turned his head to you, his eyes widening and your face crunching from confusion. It was seconds before he returned his attention to his phone. Wooyoung: "I am a genius. I have solved all of your problems 😇" Yeosang: "This is gonna be good." Hongjoong: "?" Wooyoung: "Y/N!" Hongjoong: "Who?" San: "Oooh, nice!👍🏻👍🏻" Yeosang: "I am disappointed I am not disappointed with that answer. That is your first good idea since...ever." Jongho: "How come that idea never crossed our minds before." Mingi: "That would be so adorable to see. Just think of that cuteness duo!😸🥰" Hongjoong: "Guys, would you please concentrate and tell me who that is." You had to nudge Wooyoung again, stronger this time because he was visibly testing the professor's patience. "Wooyoung, leave that phone, the professor is giving you a death stare I think even the room temperature decreased." You whispered almost inaudibly to what he turned off his screen, nudged the phone to the side of his desk and shifted his gaze up smiling innocently to the professor. You couldn't help but pinch the bridge of your nose letting out a breathy laugh at his carefree attitude.

Hongjoong: "Wooyoung, who's y/n?" Seonghwa: "Seems like he's not here anymore." Jongho: "What... who leaves in a moment like that." San: "I think he and y/n have class with that ice drama queen professor." Yeosang: "He probably used all of his energy to come up with that idea, his system must have shut down." San: "Yeosang... Who hurt you young child?" Yeosang: "Whoever ate my fried chicken the last time we hung out." Mingi: "But why are you taking it out on Wooyoung when Yunho ate your chicken 😂" Yunho: "He. Didn't. Know. That." Mingi: "Oops, I didn't know that." Yeosang: "Well, it's only important that now I know that." Yunho: "🙃" Hongjoong: " G U Y S. I'm kinda running out of time here." Seonghwa: "You remember how we mentioned Wooyoung's neighbor that hung out with us probably every single time when you weren't there?" Hongjoong: "Oh yeah, I forgot her name, so y/n... I'm not so sure, how well do you guys know her?" Mingi: "Wooyoung knows her best since she was his neighbor and classmate from the very start of college." Jongho: "But since he's not here, your second best options are San, Yeosang and me. Well Yeosang and me." San: "Hey 🥺" Yeosang: "Yes, since we attend the same college we meet quite frequently so I assure you that she is a good choice." San: "Are you all ignoring me now 🥺" Jongho: " I strongly agree with Yeosang, not once did she leave a bad impression." San: "..." Hongjoong: "Well not like I have a choice at this point anyway." Seonghwa: "Since I sense that you are still unsure, I remember this one time when she got a call from her sister and had to leave to look after her nephews." Yunho: "So that means she knows with children. I mean you got a winning combo here." Hongjoong: "But I don't know, what if the two of them don't get along, what if something happens" Jongho: "I just wanna remind you that this was Wooyoung's idea to which even Yeosang agreed" Mingi: "I think that this is the first time something like this happened 😅" Seonghwa: "Come on Hongjoong, you know we love your child almost as much as you do. We would never propose something that would be potentially dangerous for her." Hongjoong: "Alright... Fine"

Finally, for what seemed ten times longer than the original ten minutes it should have lasted, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. You stretched your arms, still sitting down, while Wooyoung rapidly swiped trough his phone to catch up on the conversation that he missed, hoping to run into Hongjoong's agreement. You eyed him suspiciously when he jolted up with an excited "yes". You mirrored his actions and got up as well, gathering your stuff. "What happened, the makeup exam got postponed?" He let out a sad whining sound before gathering his stuff as well. "As if, not even in my dreams." He swung his backpack on his back and typed something in his phone excitedly. "Then what is..." Before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist and started speed walking towards the door and into the hallway, opposite of the direction of where his exam is supposed to be. "Wait Wooyoung, what is going on?" But you were not graced by any kind of answer in return. When you exited the building, you were even more puzzled to see Yeosang, San and Jongho there. Before you could ask again, Wooyoung went into medical commercial narrator mode. "So you remember how we mentioned our friend that has a rainbow sunshine pink sparkly precious child after who he looks after alone and that sometimes we fill in because he has to work and all. Well today we are all busy and if he doesn't go to work he will get fired and he really needs that job and he can't leave the child alone and so we thought that maybe, probably, eventually you could look after her because we don't have much time since he needs to go to work soon and pretty much we don't have any other option...please?" You blinked trying to process everything you just heard as Wooyoung grabbed your hand and shook it giving you the puppy dog eyes look. You closed your eyes trying to form a coherent question in return to all that. "Wha..." But San interrupted you, joining Wooyoung in the hand shaking puppy dog eyes squad. "Pleeease, the child is a sweetheart I swear. I promise you two will get along perfectly, and the cuteness oh God, you two will be the cutest duo ever." You shook your head, really trying to keep up with the both of them, looking around to find a spot to focus on in order to actually have a chance to think about the proposal, when you noticed Yeosang and Jongho standing on a greater distance from you than when they originally were, talking among themselves, pretending not to know you three. You couldn't blame them. "Wait you two, wait a second. I mean I am free now and I would love to help, but I am not sure about all this? To him I am a stranger and from what I have picked up from your stories he wouldn't leave his child with just anyone so I don't think he will agree to this. Also a child... I'm not sure, it's not the same as looking after my nephews." Wooyoung let go of your hand in order to swipe through his phone for a brief second before showing you a message of Hongjoong's agreement, more like shoving it in your face. "He already agreed, it's only left for you to agree so please." You almost winced from the frequency Wooyoung's voice managed to hit. You were kinda at a dead end in that moment. You had no reasons to refuse, not like you even wanted to refuse an opportunity to help someone in a tight situation so the answer was pretty obvious. "Okay, just tell me the address and..." Your proclamation was interrupted with Wooyoung and San squealing and, for the sake of their souls, let's say that those were manly squeals. They ran up to Yeosang and Jongho and excitedly announced that you have agreed before Wooyoung proceeded to run back to the college entrance in his style, shouting. "I'm late for the makeup exam, I will text you the address before I..." Was all you managed to hear before his voice became inaudible. "Wooyoung, I swear to God." You whispered in your chin before joining the remaining trio in order to say goodbye.

Hongjoong was running around his apartment, grabbing his necessities before a tiny voice called out to him. "Daddy?" The young girl was standing underneath the notably larger doorframe, questioningly tilting her head to the side. "You said you would stay home today." Her face welcomed a small pout. Hongjoong quickly squatted to her eye level, one hand on her shoulder, while the other caressed the crown of her head. "I know princess, but they called daddy to come today. I promise I will make it up to you." He smiled, hoping to reassure her. "I just miss you." She proclaimed sadly before wrapping her small arms around his neck. Saying that his heart shattered into million pieces would be an understatement. He sighed heavily and wrapped his hands around her, lifting her up. "I'm sorry it has to be this way." He said that more to himself before the melody of the doorbell filled the house. The girl looked in her dad's eyes with newfound interest. "Which uncle is coming today?" Hongjoong smiled nervously, not sure how to deliver the news and more importantly not knowing what the reaction will be. "About that..." He hesitated as he went towards the door with her still in his arms. "It's uncle Wooyoung's friend." He confessed, opening the door, not sure himself what to expect. What greeted him there was a warm, smiling figure, immediately putting him at ease. "Hello, I'm Wooyoung's classmate, y/n. It's nice to meet you Hongjoong." You gave a little wave before grinning to the little girl. "And this must be the princess I have heard so much about." The girl smiled in return, resting her head on her dad's shoulder, still a bit shy. "Hello." Hongjoong motioned you to enter before he closed the door behind you, a faint scent of his shampoo hitting you. "I should hurry now, thank you for coming on such short notice." You were in the process of taking off your shoes while you replied. "Don't worry, it's a pleasure to help." You rose back up stretching out your arms for Hongjoong to give the girl to you. "Oh there's no reason for that, she may be too heavy for you, besides she is daddy's big girl, she can walk." Hongjoong went to put her down, but to his surprise he ran into the girl's resentment, as she stretched her arms out to you in return. You smiled warmly and took the child in your arms, patting her back. "It's not a problem really." You reassured Hongjoong as you turned to the girl. "This way we can assist daddy together while he is getting ready for work, right?" The girl chimed happily in response. Hongjoong didn't notice or he didn't want to notice how his brain blocked all of his actions for a brief second wanting to absorb that moment and so he continued with tying his shoelaces a moment after as if nothing happened. Hongjoong was about to exit when you noticed a phone on the cupboard next to you, so you quickly stop him. "Hongjoong, I think you forgot your phone." He checked in all his pockets to check before he accepted the phone from you grasp and thanked you with a warm smile. "Daddy will be back before you know it princess, be nice to y/n." He bent down to plant a kiss on the girl's cheek, before her little hands grabbed his face and turned his head in order to do the same. The scene had you internally melting from all the cuteness. Hongjoong went out the door, and you trailed him standing on the doorframe. "Wave to daddy." You told the girl who shook her hand smiling from ear to ear, you copying her. There was it again, that moment that Hongjoong felt shoot through his heart and brain.

You caressed the girl's cheek before putting a blanket atop of her, snuggling her to sleep. You put the fairytale book you were reading her a bedtime story from on the shelf. You decided to leave the lamp on, just a bit more dimmed as you were not sure whether or not she was afraid of the dark. She fell asleep pretty quickly, and it was no wonder, for the whole day you were doing all kind of things together, playing pretend, fashion designer, telling stories, watching cartoons, eating. You tried to engage her in everything you could, you really gave it your all, and it was easy because she was indeed a pure angel child. You sat in the living room, lowering the volume of the tv in order to hear if she wakes up. You had time to peacefully look around the apartment which was an interesting fusion of an art and music studio, laced with the essence of a family home. You also noticed that the home was sparkly clean. You didn't know that that was Seonghwa's doing however. He was the last to babysit, just the day before you. He and the girl were playing fashion designer when Seonghwa made the grave mistake of commenting how she put too much glitter on a particular piece of clothing. Second after that he had a child proclaiming that he shouldn't question her fashion sense and glitter pretty much... everywhere. So after putting her to sleep he engaged himself in cleaning all the glitter, and cleaning glitter is not an easy job, not to mention that he himself resembled a disco ball with all the glitter he had in his hair. He somehow ended cleaning even the rest and who knows when he would have stopped if Hongjoong haven't arrived home. You basically absent mindedly gazed into the cartoon on the tv which was muted when your phone buzzed and brought you back to your senses. It was a message from an unknown number, but from the content of the message you figured it was Hongjoong. Hongjoong: I will be back about 10 minutes. You saved his contact before replying. You: Thanks for giving me a notice, I will wait for you. I put her to sleep, so you have nothing to worry about. And just like that you spent those 10 minutes watching a cartoon on mute before you heard a clatter of keys trying to unlock the door, but being unable to due the keys from the inside of the door. "I'm coming." You whisper-yelled, afraid not to wake the girl as you hurried to the door. You turned the keys and opened the door, smiling. "Welcome home." It was probably due to not having a chance to hear that often, but his heart slightly fluttered at your welcome and he couldn't help but smile a little. "As I already mentioned, she is sound asleep..." You trailed off as you went to pick up your belongings from the living room, not wanting to yell and as soon as you returned you started putting on your shoes. "She is a wonderful child, you raised her very well." You gave him a wide smile as you started putting on your coat. "We made dinner together and left you some in the refrigerator so you can heat it up if you want. You must be tired so I will be going now." As you took ahold of the knob, he took ahold of your forearm. You turned around, giving him a puzzled look as to which he just took out his wallet. "No Hongjoong please, I did not do this for money. Besides, that child already repaid me with her smile, I really had a nice time today." You shook your hands before your face in defense. "There's no way I can let you leave without anything, you lost your whole day." He took out his money and was handing it to you, but you were not an easy nut to crack. "Can we make a deal then? If I happen to look after her again, I will accept, okay?" He sighed in defeat, dropping the argument as it was leading nowhere. But that idea of you babysitting again, deep down he liked it. "Alright, alright." You exited the door waving at him. "Why don't you at least let me call you a cab? It's pretty dark outside for you to be walking alone." Shaking your head you turned to him. "Don't worry about me, go back to that precious little child." He nodded, closing the door. "Hongjoong..." He halted and looked at you expectantly. "See you." And like that, you parted.

Little did you know that she would want you to come look after her again and again and again. Hongjoong of course, refused her at first, not wanting to trouble you, but soon he just gave up. And you didn't mind really, that child grew onto you like on anyone she meets. This time you were just going to visit her for no particular reason, you just had free time. You knocked on the door you grew used to and the man you started to develop faint feelings for opened. "Oh hi, come on in." He gave you his usual smile and you obliged. Just after barely taking one shoe off you heard your name being shouted from across the hall by a little human who was running to tackle hug you. "How's my favourite princess doing?" She smiled from ear to ear, as she always did. "Good! Daddy and I were just talking about you!" You rose a brow as you shot a glance at Hongjoong who was smiling nervously. "Daddy asked me if I would want you..." She was unable to finish her sentence because Hongjoong interupted, cutting her mid sentence. "You know, we were just planning on going grocery shopping, so you don't have to take off your shoes if you wanna come with us." You returned your attention to the child, whispering into her ear. "You'll tell me later." You smooched her cheek before raising back up nodding at Hongjoong. "Let's go."

"Hongjoong, you forgot to get the tomatoes... How do you expect that we make the bolognese sauce without tomatoes?" You waved in front of his face with a wooden spoon threateningly. "Sorry, I was hindered by a certain small being that strongly wanted a package of gummy bears." You just chuckled at his troubled expression. "We can just improvise something then, I guess. At least she got what she wanted." You nodded in the direction where the previously mentioned small being was eating her gummy bears, her attention on the cartoon playing on the tv. "I have a weakness for her, what was I supposed to do." Hongjoong gave you a troubled smile as he was growing scared of that wooden spoon in your grip. You couldn't resist the urge to ruffle his hair. "Go rest, you were working for the whole day yesterday. Your eye bags are so big, they could be used as bowls." He shook his head. "I can't leave everything to you..." You squinted your eyes and raised the wooden spoon back in his sight. "We will all rest when we eat, how does that sound?" You rolled your eyes at him jokingly. "You were always a tough negotiator, have it your way." Smiling to your agreement he let out a breathy laugh, not really sure how to react to the given situation. You were gifting him precious moments he could only dream of before. Like having someone to welcome him, see him off, look after him and his baby, make a meal for him, and all that just made him wish that he could do the same for you.

"Hongjoong, I am actually amazed at your cooking skills." You confessed as you plopped yourself on the couch, the little minion automatically manifesting on your side hugging you. Hongjoong went to sit on the other side of the couch before he was stopped by his little girl. "Daddy, I want you to sit here." She patted the free spot next to her, and Hongjoong just obliged, placing himself next to you two. "Now I want you two to hug me." She giggled as if she knew exactly what she was doing. As you put your arms around the little minion and connected them on the small of Hongjoong's back, he did the same. Your head rested on his shoulder, inhaling the same scent from the first day when you met him, his head rested on your shoulder looking longingly at the one person he wished for from the first day he met you, and in-between you two, a brightly smiling child who loved both of you was seated.

And so again, you went to them, they came to you. When Hongjoong was working, you were babysitting and when he was free the three of you just casually spent time together. This one time, when Hongjoong returned from work you were still in the process of putting the minion to sleep. Hongjoong inspected you closely as you ran after the child while taking off his coat and boots and he couldn't help but smile. You halted for a minute to welcome him, while the minion was long gone from sight. As you turned back to go after her you could hear her voice from the room. "Mommy hurry, I want you to read me a story before I fall asleep." You froze to the spot and looked to Hongjoong wide eyed as he did the exact same thing. Your face welcomed a shade of pink as you turned around and marched forward, not being able to face him. "C-coming princess."

"Hey Hongjoong." You peeked inside the living room, finally mustering up the courage to face him after what happened earlier, but to your luck, or misfortune, he was asleep. You would have let him be and went home as it was that he even gave you the key to his apartment, but you couldn't leave him in such a uncomfortable position. He must have fell asleep while waiting for you. You shook him lightly by the shoulder, afraid not to startle him. Your heart fluttered the same time his tired eyes fluttered open. "I just didn't want to leave you in an uncomfortable position, I will be leaving now. Get some rest." You blabbered and were ready to leave. "Could you stay... a bit longer?" Originally, it would not have been a problem, but this time around your nerves were getting the better of you. However, not having a proper reason to refuse, you sat on the couch next to Hongjoong, sighing. "May I?" He was asking you to lay on your legs. Again, it wasn't the first time, but never before did he ask nor did you feel nervous while his soft features were beneath your reach. However, on instinct your fingers started playing with his hair and he momentarily relaxed. Feeling restless you just had the urge to start a talk about something, anything. "Hongjoong, you never told me what happened to your...uhm...her real m..." You found it quite difficult to word the sentence, luckily Hongjoong caught on and saved you the struggle. "We had my princess when we were nineteen..."

Hongjoong and his girlfriend at the time didn't even plan marriage, a baby? Even less. But she found out she was pregnant and after a lot of negotiations and talking, they decided to keep the baby and promised that they would handle every obstacle on their way. Neither of them ever dreamed that their first and biggest obstacle were their own parents. Both sides gave them the cold shoulder, but not all hope was lost. They believed that when the baby is born, their parents would change their mind. It was a brutal strike to both of them when, even with the birth of their baby girl, nothing changed. They weren't making much and they could barely take care of even themselves. That is when the girl wavered. She was scared for her future and she insisted that they give the baby for adoption. Hongjoong however, didn't want to hear about it. He didn't want to give his precious treasure to some random stranger. He also couldn't care less about his parents rejecting him. They always treated him as if he was a nuisance, so what was the difference now. His girlfriend, however, left and he never blamed her for that. She lied to her parents that she put her child up for adoption, she split up with Hongjoong and broke off every contact with him and the baby out of fear that her parents would kick her out again. Through all that time the only person Hongjoong kept contact with was his brother. Even against Hongjoong's will his brother keeps sending him money from time to time. Hongjoong on the other hand sends him back videos and pictures of the little minion doing whatnot. This is the exact reason why Hongjoong is making sure to make her real uncle a part of her life as much as possible. The number of times the uncle burst into tears after hearing a little voice through the phone calling him to come and meet her is a large one. There was nothing he could do about that as he lived on the other side of Korea. The only thing his brother didn't tell Hongjoong is that their parents greatly regret their choices and want to see their grandchild. But Hongjoong will find out himself when and if they decide to let go of their stupid idea of pride.

"...and that's how the two of us ended up like this." It was not until your tear fell on his face that he noticed that you were crying. "Hey, don't cry for that." He raised his hand in order to wipe away the watery paths that your tears left on your face. "She now finally has a mum as she said. I can't thank you enough for playing that role for her, no let me take that back, you are not playing that role. After all this time of looking after her you can call yourself her mum." His comment only turned on the faucet that let more tears fall. "Thank you for saying so Hongjoong." He rose from your legs and turned to face you. "I didn't plan to do it like this but here it goes." He cupped your chin and leaned into you, his only support being his other hand. Your heart went on a rampage, throwing itself randomly against your rib cage causing irregularities in your breath. Hongjoong softly smiled when he noticed your reaction, feeling reassured to carry on with his confession. "I started attaching myself to you from the first time you stood on that door. At first I wasn't sure if that was because..." You cut him off by placing your lips onto his in a sweet kiss unsure if your heart would be able to last through his whole speech. You pulled away shyly forcing yourself to look him in the eye. Now it was official, until now you were practically just a couple without that official stamp. It felt nice, it felt like home. "You will tell me later, I wasn't sure if I was able to survive through it all." You grinned and he shook his head, smiling as well before he leaned in again.

"Okay is everyone ready?" You asked eagerly after hearing Hongjoong approach the door. "I don't understand why we have to wear this." Yeosang retorted, not amused in the slightest before Yunho appeared from behind him and pulled him into the room to hide like he was pulling him in a back alley to kidnap him, what made the situation more amusing was Yeosang's uninterested face. "Come on Yeosang we don't have much time for questions." Yunho whispered in his ear as they both disappeared into the darkness of the room. You sighed in relief as everyone was finally on their position just as you heard the keys and the door knob. And then there on the door appeared Hongjoong. "Welcome home, come on sweetie." You welcomed Hongjoong and guided his, no, both of your child to him. "Daddy, mommy bought me a minion onesie, look!" She ran up to Hongjoong and extended her arms up to him. "It's beautiful love! What does it say here... I'm gonna be a sister..." Hongjoong's eyes widened as his heart skipped a few beats and he would have jumped to hug you right then and there if he wasn't startled by seven men who ran at him at the same time, wearing a "I'm going to be an uncle (again)" shirts, pink shirts. Hongjoong's eyes widened again before he passed the child to Seonghwa to come and finally hug you. "So another girl huh?" You smiled widely back to him, nodding and he returned an even wider smile. "What week are you?" He caressed your still unnoticeable bump. "The doctor said 15th, the stomach is going to start to show from here on." He hugged you careful not to squish you too much. "I love you, thank you for giving me everything and making me a happy man." He pressed his forehead to yours. "I should be the one thanking you, Joong." Your lips met again just like they did yesterday and just like they will tomorrow. "I want to hug with mommy and daddy too!" And just like that your little intimate moment became a group hug of all the people you considered family.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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kpop-zone · 3 years

Text

Déjá Vu | Yves

College AU | Meet Cute | “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck.”

Wordcount: 1,691

“Y/N?“

Your head whipped around when you heard an unfamiliar voice calling your name, only for your jaw to drop an instant later. Was this a dream? Was this an angel nearing you right now?

“Hi! I’m Sooyoung. We agreed to meet here.”

No, no, no. You agreed to meet just another one of your university’s top athletes to write an article about her for your university’s magazine. You definitely didn’t agree to meet the most beautiful girl that you had ever seen.

“You are...Y/N, right?”

Sooyoung suddenly asked hesitantly, making you realize that you had just been staring at her with an open mouth till now. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat quickly and held out your hand.

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”

You mumbled, waiting for Sooyoung to shake your hand. Visibly amused by your old-school gesture, she looked at your hand with a smile playing on her lips, but took it, nevertheless.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

She grinned and you suddenly felt like fainting.

How could someone’s grin look that perfect?

“So... um my coach condemned me to a spontaneous practice session five minutes ago, but we could meet afterwards, and you can ask me some questions?”

Unable to answer Sooyoung’s questions with any actual words, you simply nodded, knowing that you had to look like a complete fool right now. But Sooyoung didn’t seem to notice, or she decided not to point it out.

“Let’s meet at 6pm at the entrance of the sport complex then? Or would you like to meet somewhere else?”

She asked and you instantly agreed without thinking about your answer.

“No that sounds great.”

You blurted out, not wanting to deny this incredibly stunning girl any wish.

“Ok, see you later.”

Cheekily, Sooyoung winked at you before turning around and leaving behind a blushing mess. Either she really didn’t know what effect she had on people or she liked to torture others... For a good five minutes, you simply kept on staring into the void until your phone seemed to almost explode in your hand and the vibration managed to rip you out of your trance. Confused, you looked at the screen, causing you to gasp in shock. There were a thousand messages from your friends who asked you where you were.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck.”

Only now you remembered that you actually had to attend the class of one of the strictest professors on campus in less than five minutes, but you were still at least ten minutes away from the building; even if you ran. Not wanting to accept your fate though, you grabbed the straps of your backpack tightly and started to sprint across campus. Completely out of breath, you arrived five minutes late at the classroom, causing your professor to torture you for almost 20 minutes in front of the whole class by asking you a million questions about the last lecture. It was pure hell and when you were finally allowed to plop down next to your friends, who patted your back encouragingly, you felt like passing out. This had been too much excitement for one day. The rest of the class, you absentmindedly stared ahead, pretending that you were listening to your professor while secretly thinking about Sooyoung. The sound of her laugh still played on repeat in your head and the image of her gentle smile seemed to be branded into your retinal.

How were you supposed to survive that interview?

You hadn’t been able to form a single coherent sentence earlier and after the torture your professor had put you through just now, you were barely feeling alive anymore. Nevertheless, you didn’t want to postpone your appointment with Sooyoung. It wasn’t like you to be unreliable, so you forced yourself to the sports complex after your class had ended and tiredly plopped down on the stairs in front of the entrance. Your eyelids weighted heavily as you waited for Sooyoung, but soon an immense rush of adrenaline woke you up in a matter of seconds.

“Do you want to postpone the interview?”

You hadn’t even heard that Sooyoung had left the building behind you and her voice caused you to jump to your feet in shock. Perplexed, you looked at her and noticed the concerned look on her face. Did you really look that bad?

“Oh no, I’m fine.”

You quickly explained while flashing her a smile, but Sooyoung kept eyeing you suspiciously.

“Are you sure?”

She asked and you awkwardly gave her a thumbs up.

“Absolutely. I’m just a little tired, because I was late for Mr. Yoon’s class and he made me regret that. That’s all.”

You tried to sound nonchalant, but your words seemed to have worried Sooyoung, nevertheless.

“Oh no! Were you late because of me?”

She gasped, causing you to quickly shake your head.

“No, no, no. I was late because of my own poor time management. Please, don’t feel bad about that.”

You tried to reassure her and Sooyoung nodded hesitantly.

“Ok, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time. So let’s start?”

You were aware that she just meant well, but somehow, Sooyoung’s proposition made you sad. Yes, you were tired and her presence alone made your heart nearly jump out of your chest, but you still wouldn’t mind spending the whole evening with her. But you couldn’t exactly tell her that, so you agreed with a forced smile before starting to ask her the question that you had already asked at least a dozen other top athletes of your university already.

When did you discover your passion for sports? How often do you train? What’s your proudest moment?

The questions were incredibly trite, nevertheless, you just couldn’t stop asking them, because you knew that once you would admit that you had all the info that you needed for your article, your little meetup with Sooyoung would end. And you would probably never see her again. Except for in articles or your university’s Instagram page when she won another important championship. But after you had already filled countless pages of your notebook, you had to end the interview, so you put down your pen reluctantly.

“Well I think that’s all I need. Thank you for your time.”

You smiled at Sooyoung who mirrored your expression.

“Thank you! I can imagine that there are more interesting articles to write... I’m a big fan of your writing, so I know that this is below your level.”

She giggled sheepishly and you instantly felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. She had known about you before the interview?

“Don’t say that. It was really interesting to learn more about you... I mean about your career, not that I’m some creepy stalker or something.”

You stuttered, causing Sooyoung’s expression to become serious.

“I didn’t worry about that beforehand, but now that you mention it...”

She dragged off her words while standing up and you leaped to your feet panicked. What an idiot you were... But suddenly, Sooyoung started laughing.

“I was just kidding, Y/N. I don’t think that you’re a creepy stalker or something.”

She chuckled and you sighed in relief before starting to laugh about your own stupidity. For a moment, Sooyoung and you simply smiled at each other and you felt how your cheeks heated up again. She really knew how to make a blushing mess out of you... To save yourself from further embarrassment, you quickly cleared your throat and held out your hand.

“It was a pleasure working with you. I hope you get back home safely.”

You mumbled and Sooyoung took your hand with a smile playing on her lips.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

She grinned while holding on to your hand a little longer than necessary, giving you a feeling of déjá vu. Just like this afternoon, she winked cheekily before turning around and walking away all the while managing to make your heartbeat reach a frequency that you wouldn’t have considered possible. As soon as there was a little distance between the two of you, you let out a shaky breath and clutched your chest in an attempt to calm your heart. But to your surprise, Sooyoung suddenly turned around again, causing you to quickly hide your hands behind your back.

“You know, I really think that it was my fault that you were late to your class and I feel very bad because of that that. Maybe when we meet next time, I can pay for your coffee to make it up to you?”

She asked and you looked at her in confusion.

“But I don’t have any more questions for you?”

You answered while looking at your notes in front of you that were more than enough to write the article for the university magazine. Once again, your comment made Sooyoung laugh and you looked at her dumbfounded. What was so funny?

“I know, Y/N.”

She said softly while looking at you intently, apparently waiting for the penny to drop in your brain which happened after a few more seconds. Your eyes widened significantly, and you stared at her with an open mouth. Did she just ask you out for a date?! Visibly amused by your expression, Sooyoung giggled before meeting your eyes again.

“So...can I? Take you out for a coffee?”

She asked sheepishly, seeming to have lost a little of her confidence due to your hesitancy.

“Of course!”

You blurted out, not wanting to forego this chance. The second your response had passed your lips though, you regretted the desperate sound of it, causing a bright blush to appear on your cheeks. Once again, however, Sooyoung didn’t seem to notice your clumsy behavior. Instead, she rewarded you with yet her widest grin that made her eyes form little crescent moons. In an instant, your mood lifted, and you couldn’t stop the corners of your mouth to turn upward. You were sure that you would never stop trying to make Sooyoung smile this way.

It was a déjá vu that you would love to relive for the rest of your life.

#drabble game #drabble #sooyoung drabble #sooyoung #yves drabble #yves #loona drabble #loona #yves scenario #girl group scenario #girl group #yves imagine #sooyoung scenario #kpop scenario #kpop #girl group imagine

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 14

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 14

---------

“Tt. I will cut that stupid harlot into pieces.” Damian scowled. He, Allegra, Claude, Jon, Felix, Marinette, and Chloé sat at one of the prime tables in the cafeteria. His wife just finished telling them what happened after the initiation meeting.

“Maybe we don’t immediately jump to murder?” Claude suggested.

“I agree. We don’t have a place to hide a body yet.” Chloé supplied.

“That’s not what… nevermind.” Allegra sighed.

“Dami! I appreciate the thought, but maybe keep it as plan Z?”

“Plan Z is where I need more than one body bag.” He grumbled but nodded. “But we can postpone it.”

“Okay. Let’s act rationally and focus on prevention. Teachers will be useless.” Felix chose to act as the voice of reason.

“I really hoped it would be different than Paris…” Marinette moaned.

“It is. If they actually catch her, she will be expelled. But you’re not exactly the headmaster’s favorite person while Erica seems to be held high by him. We would need a solid proof and she is cunning.” Claude explained.

“Remember Lucy Hunt?” Allegra asked. “She did something to attract Erica’s wrath and she had to move to Metropolis after she had a mental breakdown. Nothing was ever proven and to the naked eye it would look like a series of coincidences.”

“So she is smarter than Lila?” The shorter Parisian asked, worried about what was to come.

“Nah. She just knows how to talk with the right people.” Claude dismissed.

“First order of business would be to ensure she has nothing real to hurt you with.” Felix started.

Damian and Marinette shared a worried gaze before the boy spoke. “The site is foolproof. Drake made sure to use some of the best technology we have to protect it. Not even a super AI can hack it.” He subtly nodded his head to where Max and Markov ate. Kim and Alix were with them. The skater girl looked really upset. “Same with social media. Short of an alien invasion or if someone physically broke into where we hid the servers, you’re safe on that front.”

It clearly took a lot of weight from her shoulders.

“Okay, now onto blackmail?”

“Tt. That’s not something to discuss where we can be overheard.” Damian quickly shut that topic down.

“Right. Sorry.” Jon rubbed the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry, Kent. I’m covering that front.” Chloé smirked.

“That’s great…” Claude started, but then pointed toward another table, with quite a lot of people. “Is that Erica… and you said that Sausage Hair was Layla Bossi?”

“Lila Rossi,” Chloé corrected him. “But I like Lie-la Bossi better now.”

“They seem… friendly..” Jon commented when the two girls hugged.

“I would actually expect them to be rivals, given that both want Damian,” Allegra noted.

“Are they… crying?” Marinette asked.

“Crocodile tears.” Felix glared at them. “They are up to something. I don’t…” He never got to finish, because a purple butterfly descended from the ceiling and landed on Erica’s ring. The corrupted energy surrounded her momentarily and when it died out, her whole appearance was changed.

She now wore a black one-piece cheerleader uniform, similar to what GA cheerleaders wore, except it was black with red lines and not lilac with a white finish. On her chest, there was, in a jagged script, written ‘Gargoyle’. Her face was now in a light shade of red, with tear stains permanently etched on her cheeks. Her eyes were entirely white. Her blonde hair was turned into a messy mane and two horns stood proudly on her forehead. Her lower legs turned into that of a goat, complete with hooves. She was now holding a whip in one hand and a burning pompon in the other. Small wings were folded on her back.

“A succubus! +10 to charisma and +5 to strength!” A small Asian girl shouted from the nearby table.

“I am Weeping Gargoyle!” The Akuma spoke. “I’ve been used by the one I held dear and now I’m going to get what I was denied. But first,” the creature turned to Marinette and her friends. “You! I’m going to deal with you!”

“Frick frack I lost me…” Claude started some rhymed joke, but a fireball sailing toward them shut him up.

Thinking quickly, Marinette flipped over the table to use it as an impromptu cover. Damian kicked the ground and a sword popped from next to his chair. Nobody had time to question how he hid it there because everyone scattered. There was nowhere to transform in all the havoc.

“What’s going on here?” Headmaster Hammer walked through the front doors to the cafeteria to see a demonic cheerleader tossing flaming pompons that exploded. “Teenagers.” He growled. From under his cloak, he drew a saber and took a battle stance. “Fiend!” He rushed at her. The whip slashed at him, but the headmaster deflected it with an incredible show of swordsmanship. This created an opening for Damian to charge from the other side. He managed to dodge the flaming ball and slice at her hand. At the last moment, the wing shielded the Akuma and his blade bounced off without leaving the slightest cut. The headmaster was met with the same fate.

“Stupid men!” The Akuma shouted. A ring of fire exploded from her, pushing and burning both of the attackers.

“Run.” Headmaster snapped at Damian. “I’ll hold her off.”

“Tt. You’re old. Get to safety.” The boy snapped back.

“You’re so getting detention for this!” Hammer scowled as the two dodged their separate ways.

“Hey! The tryouts are in the gym!” A voice spoke from a hole in the roof. A spotted heroine leaped from the hole while throwing a yo-yo at the Akuma. The cheerleader shielded with her wings before flapping them and lifting from the ground.

“You’re not who I want! I’ll get your miraculous later!” She flew through the same hole the heroine entered through. The whole cafeteria was now on fire. Ladybug met Damian’s gaze for a moment before grabbing the headmaster and jumping outside. He was in bad condition from all the smoke.

She laid him on the ground to make sure he was okay. He coughed several times before the professor was able to speak correctly. “What about the brat!”

“I’m going in now.”

“No need.” Black Cat appeared next to them. “I got him out. We’re lucky the main doors were still working because the rooftop fell apart after I entered.”

“Cat! The Akuma will be on her ring. It was what created all the fire.”

“Tt. Let’s go.” The two jumped away from the headmaster, who hid a small smile.

-----------

Three girls and two boys snuck around the campus. Most of the students were already evacuated, but they managed to stay undetected and remain in the action area.

“I still think we shouldn’t go after a supervillain.” Kyle tried, but Maps made a gesture that told him to stop speaking.

“Sh! I’m telling you, it was Erica. A butterfly landed on her and she suddenly transformed into that monster.”

“I read about it. It was a demon. The Lord of Butterflies sent it to take her over. If we aren’t careful, it will turn all of us into that monster.”

“Olivia? You’ve got the crossbow?”

“Please. Demon? Lord of Butterflies?” Colton criticized. “Are you sure it wasn’t just some manga?”

“Shut up! How else would you explain what happened to Erica?” Pomeline asked. “It’s obviously dark magic.”

“Okay. Assuming it is dark magic, how are we supposed to protect ourselves? I’m pretty sure I don’t have tinfoil hats on me.”

“Fool. The only thing that can protect you from the Lord of Butterflies are positive emotions.” She spoke like it was an obvious fact, yet still making it sound ominous.

Abruptly, the wall they were hiding behind exploded, and a girl dressed in a skintight red and black outfit flew past them. A boy in assassin garb followed. He landed on his feet and started to spin a staff fast enough to create a shield. Several fireballs flew at him, but they all smashed into the shield harmlessly.

He noticed them cowering behind the wall.

“Tt. What are you doing here!? Get away! Now!”

Ladybug jumped up and leaped from behind him, throwing her yoyo. It wrapped over the leg of the villain and pulled the flying Akuma down. Cat charged past his partner and smashed her with his baton like it was a baseball bat, sending her into the wall.

“Lucky Charm!” The heroine tossed the yo-yo above her head and a red-and-black watermelon fell into her arms. With only a moment’s hesitation, she tossed it to Cat, who already knew what to do. Once more playing baseball, he redirected the watermelon over to the akuma. She just managed to get it together when the fruit landed on her horns and got stuck. The change of weight made her fall, which Ladybug used to dash toward her and tie her with her own whip. She then pulled the ring from her finger and crushed it in her hand.

A purple butterfly escaped her grasp, which she caught into her yo-yo.

“Bye Bye little butterfly.” She then grabbed the watermelon and tossed it high in the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The item exploded into a swarm of glowing bugs that fixed everything there was to fix. It looked like the supervillain never attacked.

“What… I…” Erica was back to normal and very confused. “There was… I remember…”

“Don’t worry. The paramedics will be with you shortly.” Ladybug calmed her. There was a bit of cold in her voice, but it was probably because she just finished fighting her a moment ago.

“I told you it’s magic.” Pomeline grinned victoriously while she whispered at Colton.

“Ehm.” Suddenly, the group was startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them. “Mind explaining to me why are you here and not evacuated with everyone else?”

“Oh! Um… You see…” Maps started, but Pomeline was too focused on something else. “Where did you learn magic! Can you teach me?! I mean we go to school here and I want to help if Lord of Butterflies and his Demons attack again!”

“Lord of Butterflies?” Ladybug walked to them and asked, again startling the whole group.

“Yes. There was an old book in the library. I managed to decipher part of it and it spoke of the Lord of Butterflies and Demons he sent to possess people. But there is only so far a translator on my phone could take me. I’m not exactly fluent in Mandarin.”

“Can you lead us to it?” The superheroine was showing almost too much interest.

“Will you teach me magic?” Pomeline tried to bargain.

“Tt. You will take us there or we return with the police and you will take us there.” Black Cat was not in the mood. Blackmail was the last thing he wanted right now.

“Fine.” The girl scoffed and led them toward the library.

“How did you summon a watermelon?” The smallest girl asked zooming over to Ladybug. “Are you a summoner? I never played a summoner. They have some nice spells I suppose…”

Ladybug, against herself, giggled at the girl’s antics. She also noted in the corner of her eyes that Damian was also smiling under the hood.

Nobody noticed when Erica slipped away.

-------

The library was large and dusty. It didn’t look like many people came here.

“It’s the old building. When Bruce Wayne funded a new library with new books, they decided to just keep the old one as an archive. Now only people that come here are us and Mr. Scarlet.”

“The new library totally had nothing to do with Damian Wayne getting expelled for the fourth time.” Colton joked and Ladybug giggled when Black Cat muttered a curse under his breath.

“The book was in the back. I didn’t want to move it…”

When they turned the corner, they saw a woman in a blue and purple dress standing over a book with a tablet. She was taking pictures of the pages. Her skin was blue and her hair purple.

The group immediately pressed against the wall, and Pom pulled a handheld mirror to take a look around the corner without risk of being spotted. Meanwhile, Ladybug and Black Cat looked at one another and their faces took a serious expression. There was a kind of silent dialogue going on between them and they both nodded at the same time. In complete silence, Cat used his staff to up and meld with the shadows. Only his green eyes were visible until they too disappeared.

Ladybug opened her Yo-Yo like a phone and took a photo of the feathered villain. She was turned to them, but even something as simple as that could be a major help. Kwami bless magical phones for making perfect pictures without a flash.

With the proof needed, she aimed her yo-yo, spun it twice around before throwing it forward. The projectile sailed true and wrapped around her arm holding the tablet. The villainess was surprised and let go of the tool as Ladybug yanked on the line and made her opponent lose balance. That was the cue for Black Cat, who swooped from the ceiling, snatched the tablet, and leaped back into the shadows.

“Ugh! Stupid peasants!” The Peacock cursed. Instead of freeing her hand, she allowed the fan to slip into her hand and unfolded it. She tried to pull on the yo-yo’s line and make her opponent fly to her. It worked, but Ladybug twisted mid-air and came at the villainess feet first in a kick. The blue woman had to block it, but she still held the line. The heroine used it for her advantage and flipped the line over Peacock’s neck and started to choke her. It also held her in place. Black Cat, who already deposited the tablet in a safe place, swept down and tried to grab the brooch, but he got kicked back by an angry woman, fighting for a breath.

Peacock folded her fan and swiped at the line, cutting it and making Ladybug fall on her back. The Villainess took a deep breath and looked around to analyze her situation. She was outnumbered and the element of surprise was still on her opponents’ side. Even without the yo-yo, Ladybug was a formidable foe and she wasn’t sure who the new Black Cat was. She had a silent suspicion, but nothing solid.

“Until we meet again, fools.” She leaped up and onto the shelves. Cat went in pursuit, but she saw the kids hidden behind one of the shelves and purposefully made it fall when she jumped onto it. The kids didn’t have enough time to scatter. Predictably, Black Cat went to save the kids.

He pushed Maps from under the falling shelf but got stuck there himself. His suit and enhanced body could withstand it, but not his bruised ego.

“Don’t be a grumpy cat. We’ve got her tablet.” Ladybug stood over him and grinned before helping him stand up.

“Tt. We might have our first lead.” He grinned.

“Let’s go check the book itself. The fact she was after it makes me think it has more value than I first suspected.”

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

Masterlist // Next

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moodyvalentinestories · 4 years

Text

Direction – One | Hunt x HWU MC (Danielle)

Summary: Hunt finds out what the 'stick' is, and it's not pretty. Danielle is worried.

Words: 1500+

Notes: Hunt worrying he can't direct anymore is honestly me right now with writing. Like, I haven't done it in a few months, and I'm like??? Is this how you do a write? Is this right? Idek anymore!

❥ Masterlist

Thomas didn’t hear from Danielle or anyone else associated with her film for three days and, consequently, almost forgot about the interaction altogether. But there was that one small remark she’d made, about the Silver Circle, that stuck with him. It had been two years, and it wasn’t like he never wanted to go back to directing. He did, but there was that fear of failure – what if he didn’t have what it takes anymore? What if he couldn’t do his job as he could before?

And, of course, there was also that small matter of finding the perfect project. He’d been looking at several scripts a while ago, but nothing had seemed… right for him. So he’d postponed, and postponed, and postponed – and the more time passed, the more his fear had grown.

Perhaps he should speak to Holly Chang, she might have something in the works. Then again, if he recalled correctly, she’d been hired for another project a few months ago, and was likely too busy to create another masterpiece.

No, he wasn’t going to find what was right for him now. And, in any case, it wasn’t like he had the time for creating a film before the next semester started. Unless, of course, he didn’t create it from scratch. If there was already a script, and a cast, and he’d only have to give up some creative control… no. Absolutely not. He was not, not even for a second, going to consider Danielle’s proposal.

But it hadn’t been a proposal, had it? She’d acted as if it was already set in stone. You are going to take over his job, she’d said. She hadn’t asked him if he would do it, nor had she presented it in any way that implied he had a choice. He’d thought it was just her way of trying to persuade him – make him think he couldn’t say no – but on the fifth day after their conversation, he was proven wrong.

It was a crisp white envelope that day, with no address on it but simply his name. He took it out of the mailbox and placed it on his kitchen counter, wondering if opening it was a good idea. He knew it wasn’t. So he didn’t touch it for several hours, in fact, he forgot about it until he went to get a glass of Scotch that night. And so when he returned to the lounge with his tumbler, he took the envelope with him as well.

It sat on the coffee table for another hour so, while he read over a script a former student of his had sent him, and his eyes kept wandering to that cursed piece of paper. And so, eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and opened it. He immediately regretted that decision.

Thomas didn’t think he would ever be blackmailed again. After all, he hadn’t done anything he could be blackmailed with. But the single picture that had been in that envelope certainly looked like he had done something. And it didn’t much matter whether it was taken out of context or not; not to the press. Especially not considering who the other person in the photo was. While many would likely agree that it didn’t seem much like Thomas, the same could not be said of Danielle. There were few things people – including Thomas – would put past her. Being in a secret relationship with a professor was not one of them.

“Damn you,” Thomas murmured as he stared at the photograph in his hands. “I told you, it could never be just a dance.”

He looked at the picture of him and Danielle dancing just a little too intimately at her first Fairytale Kingdom Formal for another moment, before turning it around. There were three words written on it, followed by a set of initials.

Don’t test me. – V.M.

Thomas was glad he’d put down the glass of Scotch earlier because he was convinced he would have thrown it across the room otherwise. Of course. Of course Danielle would work for Montmartre. She never learnt, did she? She’d been burnt a million times before and, still, she would choose to work for a snake such as him.

Then again, she didn’t know him. And being cast in a film that was expected to be extremely successful must have been quite tempting. As much as Thomas would have hoped she’d know better, as much as he would have hoped he’d taught her to know better, he couldn’t blame her.

What he could blame her for, however, was telling someone that this photo existed. Because Thomas knew for a fact that it had never surfaced before, and that the only person who could have possibly known about it that was at all associated with this project, was Danielle. And, oh, she would pay for that.

But the picture was out there now, and if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Viktor Montmartre would not back down until he got what he wanted. And since Thomas had nothing on him whatsoever – not yet, anyway – he would have to play along. For now.

He had received the first letter. Danielle knew this because she was sitting in her car, just down the street from where Hunt lived and had just seen one of Viktor’s men drive by. She considered taking it out of his mailbox before he could find it but knew it wouldn’t have changed anything. Viktor had the pictures now. He had all the so-called proof he needed. It didn’t matter that what it was supposed to prove never even happened. The photos were all real, and it didn’t look good for her. It looked even worse for Hunt.

Maybe she should have told him when she’d gone to talk to him. Maybe she shouldn’t have waited for Viktor to take action. But how was she supposed to tell him that she may have accidentally ruined his entire life? She’d been too scared to bring it up. Terrified, really. And now it was too late.

Not long after the letter had been delivered, Hunt had come out of the house to collect his mail. But Danielle did not receive an angry text, or a call, within an hour of him going back inside. She would have expected one. Though, maybe, he simply didn’t think her number would still be the same. So she checked her e-mail. Nothing.

It seemed strange to her that Hunt wouldn’t immediately contact her. After all, he must have known that nobody but her would have known about the pictures. She wondered which ones had been in the envelope.

Had Viktor gone straight for the one from after the Fairytale Kingdom Formal, in which she had stupidly kissed his cheek, and it had looked like she had actually kissed him? Or had he chosen the one in which they were just dancing? That one would have been only marginally better, since they were holding each other quite closely, but at least it wasn’t ostensibly a kiss. Or maybe it was the one from Sundance. That one was the least terrible, and it had even been printed before, but in combination with the others – suffice it to say, it would no longer simply look like a professor who was proud of his student.

She should have listened to him when he’d said he wouldn’t dance with her. She should have listened to him when he’d taught her to always be wary of the people she did business with. But she was stupid, and she always thought she knew better, even when experience told her otherwise. In the end, Hunt had always been right.

Danielle checked her e-mail once again – still nothing – before she finally decided to drive off.

The call she’d expected finally came around a quarter to three in the morning. She was still awake, trying to distract herself by finally watching that show Addison had recommended to her so many times. Now that she was trying not to think of reality seemed the perfect time to get lost in a world of dragons and faeries… nonetheless, the second her phone rang, Danielle slammed her laptop shut and reached for her phone.

She didn’t want to answer. But she knew that she would have to face him eventually. So she picked up and immediately said, “I know. I’ll text you the address.”

“No need,” came Hunt’s voice from the other end of the line, just before her doorbell rang. “You should consider finding better friends. It’s quite concerning how willingly they give out your information.”

Danielle groaned as she made her way to the door. Of course he would already be there. He was Thomas Hunt, after all. “If Ethan gave you my address, it’s because he knows you, Hunt. Hold on, I’ll buzz you in.” She stopped short of the button, hesitating for a moment. “You didn’t bring any sort of weapon, did you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If I wanted you dead, I’d have hired someone,” he said before hanging up.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Danielle murmured before pressing the button to let him inside. She wasn’t entirely sure if Hunt was joking or not, but at least she knew she wouldn’t die tonight.

Tags: @lilyoffandoms @trappedinfandoms @flyawayboo @oneemofungirl @alleksa16 @silversparrow02 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @alj4890

#hwu #hwu hunt #thomas hunt #professor hunt #danielle

16 notes · View notes

emospritelet · 4 years

Note

Extracurricular verse, bc we can't forget these happy fuckers : 84 “The more, the merrier!”

I haven’t written any Extracurricular since last Christmas, which is a crying shame, but this is going to be my 100th fic on AO3, and I thought making it these three was somehow appropriate. Unfortunately you’ll have to wait for the next chapter for the smut, but there will definitely be threesome smut :)

[AO3]

As he drove slowly along tree-lined streets in the north of Berkeley, Professor Gold reflected that life could be incredibly strange. If anyone had suggested to him two years ago that he would be house-hunting on Christmas Eve with the love of his life he would have scoffed at the very idea. If they had then suggested that he would be house-hunting for three, with Professor Rush being one of the party, he would have thought them certifiable. And yet that was how they had chosen to spend at least part of their Christmas holidays. In fact it was how they had spent the past four weekends, with no luck finding a place they all liked.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t compromise when it suited them—two years as a threesome had made that very necessary—but they were each very certain about what they wanted from the house they were to share and to make a home in. None of the properties they had viewed thus far ticked all their boxes. Either the rooms were too dark for Belle’s liking, or there wasn’t enough quiet, contained space to put whiteboards for Rush’s liking, or the kitchen wasn’t up to Gold’s usual standards, or the garden was too overlooked… They had spent weeks searching with no luck, until Belle had spied the place they were headed to, recently reduced in price and therefore within the budget they had set themselves, although admittedly most of the money was coming from him. He didn't mind that; he was by far the wealthiest of them, and it was worth paying extra to get a place they all liked and could call home together. Perhaps this house would be the one. If Rush made it on time, of course.

“It’s here,” announced Belle.

Gold turned the wheel, steering the car into another tree-lined street, this one quieter, with large houses set back from the road and well-kept lawns outside. There were strings of coloured lights on every house, and in the trees, which made Belle smile delightedly, even though the large plastic Santa and reindeer in one of the gardens looked out of place in the California sunshine. It seemed a pleasant, quiet neighbourhood, and a little calculation in his head showed it to be reasonably close to the university. All good so far. The house they were to see was at the end, the real estate board outside proclaiming that it was being sold by De Ville’s. Gold parked up, opening the door and getting out before going around to open Belle’s. She was looking around excitedly, her cheeks flushed with the relative chill of the winter day, and he wanted to kiss her.

“It’s so green here!” she said happily.

Well, that was certainly true. Each house had a neat, well-kept garden and a large stretch of lawn. Some even had white picket fences to add to the quaintness. Trees and privet hedges bordered the gardens between neighbours, and Belle peered at the house, rising up on her toes as though that would give her a better view. She was itching to go inside, he could tell. Still, the realtor had told them to be there at twelve, and it was almost that now. Not long before her curiosity could be satisfied. So where was Rush? Gold looked at his watch, tapping his foot impatiently.

“He’s late,” he observed.

“You sound surprised.” Belle’s voice was teasing, and she glanced across at him with a grin. “Did you remind him?”

“Yes, I reminded him, I sent him a bloody text!” said Gold impatiently. “And I might add that I’m not his bloody PA. If he can’t organise his own bloody appointments I fail to see why I should be inconvenienced.”

“The realtor’s not even here yet,” said Belle soothingly. “He’ll be here.”

Gold grunted.

“He’ll be nose-deep in some bloody ridiculous theoretical crap,” he said, and straightened as a sleek silver car pulled up onto the long driveway. “Look, here’s the realtor. I told you he’d be late!”

“Would you relax?” Belle turned to face the realtor’s car. “Remember, if he doesn’t make it, you get to have first choice of the rooms.”

There was that, he supposed.

“Well, we can always look around the house ourselves,” he agreed. “Serve him right if he didn’t show and I put his office in the basement.”

The car door opened and a woman swung pale, slender legs out of the door, pushing to her feet with a toss of jaw-length blonde hair. She was tall and thin, wearing an elegant black dress beneath a short white coat that Gold was fairly sure was made of real fur. Red lips curved in a smile as she held out a hand.

“Mr Gold, I presume?” she drawled, in a very English accent. “Cara Deville-Waters. Delighted to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Gold shook her hand. “This is my partner, Belle French.”

He gestured to Belle, who stepped forward to shake Cara’s hand.

“Right,” said Cara breezily. “Well, here is the house. Lovely, quiet neighbourhood. Mainly professionals, some with young families. The owner has moved to Europe, as I understand it, so we’re maintaining the property in her absence.”

“It seems a lovely area,” observed Belle.

“Yes, very pleasant. The area itself is stacked with amenities, and has very good schools. Do you have children?”

“No,” said Gold.

“Not yet, anyway,” added Belle, making Cara grin.

“Well, best to plan ahead for these things, I always say. This is the sort of house that has the space for a large family, as you’ll see when we go inside. Shall we?”

“Oh, we’re just waiting for the third member of our - uh - family,” said Gold. “He should be here any minute. Or at least he would if he had any sense of punctuality and common courtesy.”

Belle gave him a level look as Cara looked intrigued, brows lifting.

“Oh, so there are three of you?”

“That’s not a problem, I trust,” said Gold, in a very even tone, and she waved a languid hand.

“The more, the merrier!” she said. “And the house is certainly large enough. Do let me know if you have any other requirements, and I can point them out as we go.”

“The listing mentioned a hot tub,” said Belle.

“It’s out the back,” said Cara. “There’s a section of raised decking leading out from the kitchen. If you like we can—”

She was cut off by her phone ringing, and after glancing at the screen she pulled a face and sent them a guilty look.

“I do apologise,” she said fervently. “It’s my wife. She doesn’t call during viewings unless it’s urgent, so—”

“Oh please, take your time,” said Belle hurriedly.

She grasped Gold’s hand and pulled him up the driveway as Cara answered the phone, and Gold ran his eyes over the large brick-built garage with its painted roller-shutter door.

“Enough room for both our cars, easily,” he remarked. “Rush’s Ford will probably drip oil all over the paving, though.”

“He says it’s your car that’s the leaker,” said Belle absently, and Gold frowned.

“The Cadillac does not leak, she just - gets a head cold every now and then.”

“Mhmm.” Belle looked amused. “What do you think of the neighbourhood?”

“Pleasant,” said Gold, looking around. “Lots of green space, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

“Yeah.” Belle whirled on her toes to face him, eyes sparkling. “Can we get a dog?”

“A dog?” Gold pursed his lips. “Who’s going to look after it when we’re at the university all day?”

“You could take it to class,” suggested Belle. “That’s an eccentric thing to do, isn’t it? You can get away with it because you’re Scottish.”

“I doubt that,” said Gold dryly.

“Well, it’s not too far from the university,” she persisted. “I could cycle back every lunchtime and walk the dog.”

“We’ll talk about it if and when we buy the place,” he said, and she huffed.

“Okay, that’s fair enough.”

“We can certainly get a couple of cats,” he added, and Belle squeaked in excitement, making him grin.

Cara had put her phone away and was hurrying towards them, looking harassed.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, almost wringing her hands. “My wife’s car has broken down. She’s stuck on the side of the road waiting for a tow-truck. Unfortunately, she was on her way to the airport to pick up her father, who’s coming to visit for Christmas. She’s asked if I can go instead. I’m so sorry, but I’ll have to postpone our viewing until later.”

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip, looking disappointed, and Gold raised an eyebrow.

“Well, as we’re still waiting here anyway, why don’t we look over the house?” he suggested. “We could drop the keys back at the office in a couple of hours if you’re not back by then.”

“I really should be here to answer any questions you might have,” she said, running a hand through her hair in agitation. “Although I suppose two hours would get the job done. Are you sure you don’t mind looking around by yourselves?”

“Given that we have no idea when the third of our party will finally remember he has somewhere to be, I doubt it’ll be an issue,” said Gold, in a very dry tone, and Belle gave him a look.

“I’ll make a note of any questions we have as we’re going around,” she said, and Cara sighed heavily and dug in her bag, fishing out a set of keys and a sheaf of papers.

“Property particulars and room dimensions,” she said, handing them over. “I’ll be back by two, barring unforeseen circumstances.”

She hurried back to her car, heels clicking on the paving, and Belle and Gold shared a grin.

“Well,” he said. “Let’s take a look.”

The entrance hall was spacious and warm, a tiled floor leading to a sweeping staircase that led to the upper floor. The banisters were in warm, shining wood, and the tiles gleamed as though they had been mopped that morning. Gold suspected they had. He took a step forward, testing the surface with the end of his cane, but to his relief it wasn’t slippery. Getting around with a limp made some floor surfaces treacherous. Sunlight was shining in from the top of the stairs and from a window at the far end, and overall he thought it was a pleasant, welcoming space.

“Looks good so far,” he said, tucking the property particulars inside his coat. “Shall we explore?”

Belle went first, opening the first door she came to.

“Here’s the lounge,” she announced.

Gold followed her in. The lounge was large, the front windows of the house letting in plenty of light. The floors were covered in pale cream tiles, and Gold’s cane clicked as he walked. It was still furnished with a couple of large leather couches and an easy chair, grouped around a glass and chrome coffee table and a wide stone fireplace. The room had been emptied of anything else that might have hinted at the tastes of its owners, but the couches gave it a comfortable air.

“Ooh, we could have a log fire!” said Belle excitedly.

“In California?” remarked Gold, and she sent him a look.

“It can get cold here!” she insisted. “It’s cold today, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” He walked slowly around the room. Beyond the hearth, the room turned a corner into a large open plan dining area, and he turned back to Belle before heading into it. “This is a nice room. Plenty of space, and enough light to read by for most of the day, I should think.”

“There’ll be more light at the rear,” she said. “It faces south.”

“So perhaps that’s where we should install the library,” he said, and wanted to grin at her beaming smile.

“Oh, so I get my library?” She walked towards him, swaying her hips in that infuriatingly alluring way she had when she was getting exactly what she wanted. “I knew I could talk you around.”

“I hardly took much convincing, as I recall,” he remarked, and Belle pouted, sliding her hands up his chest and letting her fingers push into his hair.

“Pity,” she said. “I thought of a few more methods of persuasion I could use to ensure we get a dog.”

Gold chuckled, one hand sliding around her waist to pull her closer.

“Oh, you can still use your wiles against me, Miss French,” he said lazily. “But perhaps we ought to finish looking over the house first.”

Belle rose up on her toes to kiss him, soft lips pressing against his before she settled back on her heels.

“I wonder if there are any other university types in the neighbourhood,” she said.

“Unlikely, unless they have another source of income,” said Gold. “We could ask the realtor what she knows about the residents of this area, though.”

“I’ll add it to the list of questions,” said Belle, still stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m surprised she let us look over the place ourselves. I thought she’d tell us to come back another day.”

“I imagine the commission on this sale would be an extremely welcome Christmas present,” he remarked.

“I suppose.” She looked around. “It has a nice feel to it, doesn’t it?”

Gold thought about it for a moment. He was far from the superstitious type, preferring to go on facts and figures, and tangible evidence. On paper, at least, the property was both a good investment, and appeared to meet most, if not all, of their requirements. They would have a better idea of whether it was correctly represented when they had been over the place, but he thought he understood what Belle meant. There was a pleasant atmosphere, a warmth that didn’t just come from the underfloor heating.

“It’s - it’s certainly a good start,” he said, and kissed her again. “But I think we should look beyond the lounge before making a decision on this place.”

“Like the kitchen?” she said knowingly. “Okay, you’re on.”

Gold glanced out of the window over her shoulder as a flash of dark red caught his eye. His mouth flattened.

“Looks like someone finally got here,” he said, and Belle chuckled, wriggling from his arms and trotting into the hallway.

Gold followed more slowly, trying to keep the smile from his face as he saw her sprint down the driveway and fling herself on Rush almost before he had gotten out of the car. The force of her greeting knocked his glasses askew, and he was clearly trying to simultaneously keep his balance, close the car door and hug Belle. He made it by shoving the door shut with one hip and frantically grasping at his glasses before they could fall.

“You’re bloody late!” called Gold.

“Only five minutes.”

“More like twenty, but who’s counting?”

“You, apparently.”

“Stop bickering!” chided Belle, still hanging onto Rush. “Come on, I want us all to look over this house! I think it could be the one!”

“You said that about the last four,” said Rush, clutching her around the waist as they walked back up the driveway.

“Yes, and I have to be right at some point.”

He grunted in amusement, running a hand through hair already messy from the day. His stubble was growing through again, the winter sun glinting on his cheeks and chin. His shirt was also very wrinkled, and Gold suspected he had spent the previous night at the university, head down in some sort of research. He and Belle had spent the night at his place, curled up in each other’s arms, and had spent the early morning eating breakfast at his kitchen table before heading out. Rush’s own breakfast had probably been a pint of coffee and a few cigarettes, and if nothing else, he suspected that them all moving in together would be good for Rush’s health. At least he’d have two people around to nag him into eating and sleeping properly.

“And don’t even think about going back to the university when we’re done here,” added Belle. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I want both of my men firmly committed to the festive season. Here.”

She pulled out of Rush’s grip as they reached the doorstep, pawing through her shoulder bag before pulling out a large handful of red plush and white faux fur and brandishing it with a beaming smile. Rush sighed heavily.

“What’s that?”

“Santa hats!” she said gleefully. “Come on, it’s Christmas!”

As if to demonstrate, she pulled one of the hats down on her dark curls, white pom-pom bouncing. Belle held up the other two hats, shaking them back and forth.

“I can already tell you that doesn’t go with my outfit,” remarked Gold, and Belle pouted at him.

“If you don’t have a Santa hat, you don’t get inside.”

“I’m already inside,” he pointed out, and Belle smirked.

“Who said I meant the house?” she said lightly.

Minx, he thought, and she grinned at him, bouncing on her toes as though she could read his mind. Rush grumbled under his breath, but reached for one of the hats.

“Tis the bloody season, I suppose,” he said, and tugged it down on his head. “Come on Gold, don’t be such a bloody Scrooge.”

Gold sent him a very level look, then sighed and held out his hand.

“Alright,” he grumbled. “But no pictures.”

“Oh, I’m not promising that,” said Belle airily, giving him the hat. “Now let’s go check out that hot tub.”

#sprite's festive fic fest #fic: extracurricular #rumbellerush fic #my fic #rumbellerush #ripperblackstaff

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chaoswillcalmusdown · 4 years

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Title: saw your face and got inspired Pairing: Mohammed Razzouk/Amira Thalia Mahmood Summary: Amira’s getting ready for another year of university when she meets a special someone who knocks her fully off her feet. My @yousanaexchange gift for the awesome, super sweet and super smart @thickskinandelasticheart I tried really hard to make it enemies-to-lovers as per your request but it might be a bit more of dumbasses-to-lovers. Either way, I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it. Special shout out to @naslostcontrol for reading it over and making sure it was fit for public consumption 😊

It's not like Amira planned to end up in this situation, it just kind of spiraled out of control. She's never been scared to speak up or voice her opinion, but she's realising that they've been arguing for 15 minutes at this point and the rest of the group is starting to shift in their seats and look at their phones. Amira takes a deep breath, then stares into Mohammed's frustratingly sparkly eyes and calmly says, "Look, I just don't think it's fair to demand emotional labour from oppressed groups in order to educate those who don't give a single shit." She shrugs and then looks over at Faizal, the president, and says, "Uhm, sorry, this really wasn't relevant for the meeting."

She can see from the corner of her eye that Mohammed's head is tilted as he stares her down from across the room. As if she's going to be intimidated by that? What a dick.

Faizal smirks, rolling his eyes, "oh, so we're allowed to move on now? You're finished now?"

Amira smiles angelically, simply adding, "Yep."

The meeting was supposed to be about what kinds of educational events the islamic society wants to do, and Amira thinks all the suggested options cater way too much to the Alman desire rather than intra community issues and needs. She's honestly sick and tired of having to sit through the same kinds of panels discussing whether or not islam is actually feminist/sexist/peaceful/violent/homophobic and so on, she's sick of force-feeding Almans hours of information and sharing her lived experiences only to be met with the same kind of liberal 'color blindness' bullshit she's faced since kindergarten. She deals with enough of that from her fellow students, professors, even the girls from time to time. The islamic society was supposed to be a place where she could chill and hang out with "her people". Faizal decides that they'll postpone the decision making another few weeks and in the meantime asks everyone to make sure they send in suggestions, so the future votes can be as democratic as possible.

Amira takes that as a slight dig, because she knows her opinions aren't really popular among the group. She came into the society looking for friends from within the community but she's managed to clash with most of the group in some way, either with her views or more likely the way she presents them. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest. She honestly understands the point of inclusive or educational events, but she would just love it if they could do something else as well. She'd love for them to go beyond what makes the university look good and woke, and do some important things. Create real change. The way German society still isn't okay with hijabis in certain careers is only one of the issues that she's passionate about, but the rest of the society seem to be fine with focusing their attention and resources on holding Eid barbecues and islamic panels where everyone always agrees on everything. She wants to do something that makes a difference. Something that matters. Maybe this society isn't the place for her, after all? Maybe Amira should be focusing more on the campus political parties in the next semester? The meeting wraps up and there are always snacks at the end, so Amira pours herself some tea and grabs a pastry. It's only Tuesday but her mum's been texting her all day about coming to the mosque this Friday. She's really running out of excuses that aren't the truth, but it feels too complicated and ungrateful to put into text and send to her mother, so she just replies with an affirmative.

Faizal comes over to her, giving her a fond but exasperated look. "Dude, I know you've gotta be tough to handle politics, but like. I think you need to relax just a tad. You-" He cuts himself off when someone walks behind Amira to get to the cups. "So, now you've met our charming Amira, eh?" he says to this person, grinning way too widely for Amira's comfort. Sure enough, she turns around and is face to face with Mohammed. He's frustratingly perfect-looking up close, even though his hair is stupidly swoopy and his eyebrows are huge. He's grinning at Faizal in a way that feels condescending as hell. Awesome. Amira sighs, ready to say something mean so she can excuse herself from this entire narrative.

But Mohammed beats her to it. "Yeah," he says softly, this time directed at her rather than at Faizal, "The girl with the coldest gaze." Amira really doesn't like his tone. It's condescending and smug. "It's been an enlightening but terrifying first encounter, Frau Bundeskanzlerin." He mimes a tiny bow, still fucking smirking, and then walks off. What a dick.

- - - - -

Amira has a lot going on in her life. Apart from her combined history and political science degree and her part time tutoring job, she's a sister, a daughter, a friend, and apparently a severely underpaid life coach. She's sat with Sam and Matteo in the campus coffee shop, drowning their sorrows in pastry and trying to get some work done at the same time. She attempts to listen intently to Matteo's latest crisis while she watches Sam sketching for a project. There's something going on with knitting and apparently it's all about dimensions and angles. It's kind of interesting, honestly, with the geometry of it all. But it's mostly making her feel a bit dizzy because of how circular Matteo's anxieties are.

Amira can't help but interrupt, "Matteo, habibi, you know I love you?"

"But shut the fuck up?" he asks self-deprecatingly, scrunching his face up, still dragging one hand harshly through his hair.

"Hä? No, no. I was going to say that we've had this exact conversation before. And, remember how I told you that there's nothing wrong with going to therapy, even just to try it out."

Matteo clenches his jaw, dragging his hand down his face, then letting it drop limply onto the tabletop. He'd gone once during his gap year, but after he'd decided to study programming he claimed he felt "much better" so he never went back. David's been worrying about him, and has tried to involve Amira in his plan to get Matteo to therapy. Along the way they've found that it's truly not possibly to get Matteo to do anything Matteo does not want to do. Amira still prays that he'll find peace and get help, but she's really stopped nagging him. However, when he brings up feeling overwhelmed and frustrated she can't help but speak up and repeat the suggestion. Maybe he'll eventually take the advice.

David arrives and drops down next to Matteo. He's working on a short film outside of his studies and is currently storyboarding, which of course means that Matteo is going to do anything he can to disturb the creative process. It might be cute how they devolve into play fighting even after multiple years, but Amira honestly just finds it ridiculous. Sam is asking about Amira's studies, nodding along to Amira's story about the world's most boring professor, when the impossible happens. Mohammed walks up to the table, wearing the cafe's apron, asking if they've got any empty cups they want to get rid of. Sam thanks him, being friendly in a normal way. Amira's just frozen. Before he leaves, he gestures to Amira's full black outfit complete with black nails, then to her phone which is lying on the table with the case side up, proudly stating 'Black is my happy colour' and says, "Black suits you." Then he turns and jauntily walks into the back, with his tray of dirty mugs. Amira can feel her face heat, which in turn pisses her off. Thankfully, at least no one else can tell she's blushing.

"God, what a dick," Amira huffs.

"Hä? Amira!" Sam laughs. "He didn't even say anything bad?!"

"He commented on my looks? Is that seriously necessary?"

"God, Amira, don't be such a manhater. He was just appreciating your aesthetic. I'm sure he's a totally nice guy. I mean, he's really attractive, and you know incels are always fucking ugly."

Matteo apparently tunes into the conversation at this point, "hey! What's this about hating men? Men are totally awesome!"

Amira narrows her eyes at him, gesturing to where he's stretched across David, keeping him from his sketchbook and holding David's pen high in the air so David won't be able to reach it.

Matteo straightens up, puts David's pen back. David grabs it with a wink in Amira's direction. "I mean, sure, we're stupid, but all men aren't?"

- - - - -

Whenever she says she's busy, Amira's mum gets annoyed with her, so Amira finds herself at a random event at her local mosque. There's some kind of lecture, and then supposedly there'll be food after. Amira can't help but notice that neither of her brothers were nagged into attending, but that's fine. She's somewhat excited to see the girls she used to hang out with all the time, but now only really sees occasionally at the mosque. Or at someone's wedding, which there have been a lot of. She's officially the last one out of her Sunday school group to be married, not that she would have expected anything less. Aunties have always told her she'd have a hard time finding a man to put up with her "strong opinions".

Amira grabs a mug of tea, and is about to scan the room for her girls when an older couple appear. She vaguely knows who they are, thinks they're parents of one of Omar's friends from school. She says hi, and tries to make some polite small talk. Then, the woman goes, "Oh, we heard your brother's getting married!" and Amira realises what's about to happen. She pastes on a polite smile and replies, trying to look around for someone who can save her from this conversation. The husband continues on to jokingly ask if she's next, and Amira keeps the smile on her face when she says, "Oh, I'm focusing on my career first. I still have another a bit left until I graduate." The wife pats her husbands arm and points out that Amira is studying politics. He chuckles and asks, "Are you still doing that? And what are you going to use that degree for? Are you planning on being the first German chancellor with a hijab? While somehow managing a family, as well?" They both chuckle, in a kind of 'oh how silly of her' way. The wife says, "No, Amira, habibi, I think it's great that you're getting yourself educated. They always say that an educated woman teaches a whole village."

Amira sighs, draining her mug. "I don't know about a whole village," she laughs dryly, then says a somewhat polite goodbye and hightails it out of there. When Amira finds her friends, Nadia's talking about her new husband, complaining that he expected her to know what to buy his mother for a 50th birthday present. Someone else is laughing and saying, "Well, wasn't he always a bit distracted?" Amira remembers him well from school and cannot imagine that he has since grown out of his fuck-boy phase into a good husband. While the girls chat about their awful spouses, Amira's attention drifts and she somehow ends up on Mohammed. With a woman in a hijab and two younger kids. She feels a bit unsettled, even worse when they lock eyes across the room and Amira feels her face heat. Mohammed looks confused but then gives a tiny wave before he turns back to the kids.

When Amira snatches her eyes back onto her friends, everyone's looking at Amira. "Hä, sorry?"

Nadia rolls her eyes, "We were just wondering if there's anyone special in your life?"

Amira barks out a laugh, "Wow, no, I'm way too young to get married." She might have forgotten to censor herself there for a second. "Um, I mean, I'm going to graduate first, but I'm looking into post-grad right now, so. It's not a priority yet."

- - - - -

Amira gets home from the mosque annoyed. Over the weekend she goes to a boxing class, and afterwards decides to focus on her studies, and figure out what she's going to do about the islamic society and everything else later. And what she's going to do about everyone at the mosque constantly asking her about her future, all now that your brother is getting married, isn't it your turn next, dear? She's got a few really interesting classes going on at the moment and she heads to her first tutorial which is on European politics. She sees a few familiar faces and chats until the professor shows up and they all file into the room and pull out all their notes. Amira's rooting around in her bag for a pen to lend to her neighbour, when she hears the door open and a smooth voice say, "sorry I'm late". The professor, a really nice but very old white man chuckles and says, "no worries, we haven't quite started yet." Amira reflexively looks over to see who it was, locks eyes with Mohammed, and firmly looks away. This is fine. There are always new people in tutorials, and sometimes you recognise them from around campus. No big deal. Amira passes the pen along and logs onto her computer. She's always been an achiever, and she's not planning on letting herself get distracted by anything. As always, she raises her hand to answer the first question the professor asks, but is surprised when she looks over and sees Mohammed already raising his hand and speaking. Even worse, he's saying the exact thing Amira was going to say. She drops her hand, cracking her neck and stretching out her shoulders, and makes sure to be the first one to raise her hand at the next opportunity instead. Game on.

- - - - -

As much as Amira tries to focus and center herself on what she's trying to achieve, her education and all the things that matter in her life, she can't help but feel unsettled. Every time she has a politics class, Mohammed is just there, raising his hand a split second before Amira and constantly just arguing and disagreeing with her. Whenever she goes to an islamic society meeting, Mohammed is there and yet again, frustrating her and disagreeing with her. She keeps up with her routine, prays and goes to boxing with Sam or Hanna, and tutors, and studies. But she keeps getting distracted, while studying and while praying and even while boxing. All because of one annoying guy. She's heading over to her brothers' shared apartment on a Friday night to drop off a text book for Essam on her way to Mia's place for "girls wine and cheese night". She's got two essays almost due and would genuinely love to get a start on those, but the girls won't let her sit at home on a Friday night while doing research for school. Sam had said it's out of the question, mom.

Essam opens the door, while stuffing his face with pizza. Amira plops her bag down on the floor by the door and shakes out her shoulders. When she looks up, Essam's got a confounded look on his face, "Are you carrying around bricks?!"

"I wish," Amira mutters pulling out the book he needed and dropping it on the ground, letting it thunk. "Gimme some pizza."

Essam snorts and gestures into the apartment, "Bad week?"

"You don't even know. The most annoying guy is in my class. And literally everywhere I look. Such a fucking pain in the-" They turn the corner into the open plan kitchen-dining-living room, and who's sitting at the breakfast bar, handsomely typing away at a computer? Mohammed, of course. At this point, Amira should be fucking expecting it.

Essam grabs Amira a slice and, upon seeing her bewildered face, goes, "Oh, you haven't met! This is my pal, Mohammed, he's the guy who's gonna take over Omar's room after he gets married. My soulmate, yadda yadda."

Mohammed smiles at Amira, "We've met, actually," he says. Amira swallows around her bite, trying to smile since she can't speak due to the chewing. "Through the islamic society," Mohammed adds, shrugging. Amira tries to read off his face whether he heard her ranting as she entered, or not. He doesn't look very offended, so she figures he probably did not.

"Huh," Essam says, nodding. He turns to Amira, "Hey, sorry, you were venting. Something about a really annoying guy?"

Mohammed leaves about twenty minutes later, apparently heading home for dinner. Amira waits approximately 2 seconds after she hears the door close, until she's rounding in on Essam. "How did you not tell me about Mohammed?!" She demands, not realising how ridiculous that sounds, until it's too late. Essam stares at her like she grew a third eye.

"I don't tell you every time I make a friend, Litschi! What the hell?"

Amira shakes her head, pacing. "That's Mohammed," she says. Essam nods, looking towards confusedly at the now closed front door. "No, Fruchtzwerg, it's Mohammed. The annoying guy who appears in every fucking part of my life, and frustrating the hell out of me. It's Mohammed."

"Oh shit."

- - - - -

Essam's confused about the entirety of Amira's story, because Mohammed never argues and Mohammed's the nicest guy ever and most confusingly Mohammed? Is in the islamic society committee? Really? Amira's at a loss. Essam claims to know the guy, but either he doesn't know anything about him or Mohammed's just different with different people. And that's always a bad sign when it comes to guys. Obviously guys lie, and Amira's had enough interactions with guys from all over the place to know not to trust one at first sight. Not that she would want to trust Mohammed for any reason. She just doesn't want her brother to be scammed or anything. It would suck for Essam if Mohammed turns out to be a shitty person.

Amira eats most of Essam's pizza while she fumes over Mohammed's occupation into yet another aspect of her life. She really doesn't know how she's supposed to handle all this exposure to his dumb face. And then Essam points out that Mohammed's going to be in Omar's wedding, so Amira needs to somehow settle a truce with the guy, which is just perfect.

That Sunday marks some anniversary of Kiki and Carlos' which requires a house party. Amira arrives after her prayer with some vegetarian pizzas from down the road. She catches David and Matteo chatting, or probably more likely making out, right inside the front door, and then gets encased in a monster hug from Sam. They chat over pizza, and then, who comes through the door after Jonas? At this point, it should not even surprise her. Mohammed walks through into the living room, waving awkwardly as he gets introduced to everyone. Sam and David seem to already know him, and Matteo, too. Amira is just lost. Even more surprisingly, Essam walks in after them. He waves excitedly at Amira, and Amira really longs for a time where all the different parts of her life were neatly compartmentalised and never met each other at house parties. Next, she's gonna have to introduce her parents to Kirlos or something equally ridiculous.

"He's very cute, huh?" Sam asks Amira, jabbing her playfully with her elbow. Amira rolls her eyes reflexively. "Oh come on, Amira, he's cute. And he's wholesome. You always say I need to date more wholesome men."

Amira shrugs. "But you know a lot of arabs are racist," she mumbles, taking a swig of Pepsi to calm her suddenly agitated nerves.

Sam snorts, "Yeah, thanks, I know. I can be careful, mom."

Kiki and Mia walk over, with Kiki looking between Amira and then Essam and Mohammed. "The blond guy was waving like he knows you," Kiki points out, while Amira curses Essam's entire personality and existence, "Are these guys like your relatives?"

Sam busts out giggling, asking Amira in a silly voice, "Do you know all the arabs in Berlin, Amira dear?" When Kiki looks shocked, she adds, "No, Kiki, I'm kidding, don't worry, sorry, sorry," all while still giggling. Amira thinks back to the time when Kiki had asked Sam if she and boy Sam were related.

"Ha-ha," Amira mutters. "I actually do know them, though. The blond one is, unfortunately my brother."

"No way!" Mia gasps, slapping Amira's shoulder. "You're nothing alike."

"Alhamdulillah," Amira mumbles, setting Sam off into another bout of giggles. Mia smiles, but manages to restrain herself. Amira huffs, adjusting her scarf. "No, he's not that bad… he's just loud? He's my younger brother so of course he annoys me".

"What about the other guy," Mia asks, "You know him, too?"

Sam hums, "Hot, right?"

Mia's appraising Amira very intently and Amira really hates it. She shrugs, "He's a friend of Essam's, I don't know him very well."

Essam appears at her shoulder with Mohammed in tow, and they all get introduced. Essam flirts way too much with Kiki, and Amira tries to melt into the ground with secondhand embarrassment. Eventually Carlos drifts over, probably to show Essam that Kiki is taken, which is just cringe worthy on its own. Amira catches Mohammed's eye just as Carlos wraps his arm firmly over Kiki's shoulders and Kiki looks back at him confused. Mohammed looks like he's trying really hard not to laugh, and he raises his eyebrows, pinching his lips together. Amira shrugs, mouth lifting into a smile before she can stop herself. She pulls her eyes away, anywhere else. Her eyes settle on Jonas trying to teach Matteo some chords on the guitar, and Hanna chatting animatedly with David in the corner next to them. Then, she overhears someone daring to besmirch the name of Mohamed Salah. She looks up, locking eyes with a grinning Mohammed. Carlos is saying something ridiculous about Manchester United, and Amira truly cannot believe the joy she's seeing in Mohammed's eyes. Or the way he's confidently nodding along with Carlos' unbelievably incorrect rant. Sam and Mia look lost, but Essam's grinning gleefully at Amira. As the middle child in a family of strong opinions, he's grown up to become the most neutral person Amira knows, and watches sports mostly to see how riled up Amira and Omar get. "You must have an opinion on this, Litschi, as someone who has a life-sized cardboard cutout of Mo Salah in their room?" Essam's making himself sound like a beat reporter, looking around the group to make sure he has everyone's attention.

Amira clenches her jaw, knowing that she'll never live that nickname down now that the girls have heard it. She can see Sam mouthing it, looking delighted. "You bought me that cut-out, Fruchtzwerg, but yes, I do have an opinion on Mo Salah, the best football player of this generation."

Her argument doesn't quite convince the boys, but then her Maghrib alarm goes off and she slips away to Kirlos' bathroom followed by their bedroom. She's perhaps making a lot of effort to walk without stomping, but having to be at a party with her idiot brother is just really fraying on her nerves. She's never had to interact with him and her friends at the same time. She knows that he thinks she's acting weird, and so will the girls, probably. The'll think she's too harsh on him, or something. Amira's really not a massive fan of praying in her friends' bedrooms, but it's better than a bathroom so she'll take it. She can hear literally everything that's going on in the party, the bass vibrating the walls and floor, and honestly doesn't know how she's meant to be able to focus on anything except that new Zara Larsson song that Kiki's doing a cover of.

When she walks back into the living room, she can't help but feel frustrated about the way she always misses random chunks of parties. She'll come back from praying and catch the girls in a joke that falls flat when they try to explain it to her. You had to be there sometimes feels like the story of her life. The groups have rearranged since she left. Kirlos have ended up on the sofa, with Sam and Mia still talking to Mohammed, while Essam seems to be bonding with Matteo. God help them all. Amira walks over to Sam, because she's still holding Amira's drink. Not for any other reason. She can't help herself, so she asks Mohammed if he's not going to go pray, knowing full well that Essam won't. His smile falters, but he shrugs and says, "I'm not really going to bother in these circumstances," gesturing at the loudness of the party.

Amira can hear Essam's carefree laughter, bristles at the ease and lack of tension in Mohammed's shoulders and she truly doesn't mean to, but she ends up saying, "So you just pray when it's convenient for you?"

Amira can hear Sam make a noise of awkwardness next to her, and she knows she's out of line, knows she has a tendency to attack first, but she's bone-tired and frustrated and nothing she does or is expected to do is ever easy or convenient.

Mohammed, eyes hard, replies, "I thought Islam taught you not to judge. And I don't know if you know, but Germany has laws that regulate a person's right to practice religion how they want, or not practice at all, thank you very fucking much." He looks disappointed at her, which hurts more than she'd like. And then he turns and leaves. Amira feels like the whole party has quieted down, like everyone saw that, but in reality only Sam and Mia did. Though Essam will probably hear about it later.

"Ouff," Sam whines, "Amira, that was harsh".

Amira groans. "You okay?" Mia asks, looking concerned. Amira sighs, squishing her eyes shut.

"Fuck."

"You look like you need a drink," Sam points out. Amira laughs, desperately. "Let's make you a fabulous mocktail. I'm too tipsy to solve anything right now."

- - - - -

Amira wakes up in stages, first noticing the offensive brightness of the room, and burrowing deeper into the covers to try and avoid facing the day. She and Mia went home with Sam and ended up falling asleep and Amira can hear Sam and Mia chatting away, though in hushed tones. She can't help but groan as she stretches. It's far too early.

"Morning, Litschi!" Mia calls, and Amira groans louder. She forgot about that.

The girls let her wake up while they get some tea and wrangle together breakfast. Amira stares at the ceiling and pointedly does not check her phone. She does, however, get up to pee and then pray. When she gets back the girls have managed a decent spread with the leftovers in Sam's fridge.

"We should talk about Mohammed," Sam points out. Mia nods. "You were really mean." Mia nods again.

"You like him, don't you?" Mia's got her knees up, chin resting on them. Amira sputters in response.

"That's a yes!" Sam cheers, giggling.

"It's not," Amira sighs. "He's just a douchebag. Like, he's so flippant about important stuff. Like religion. And he's constantly appearing everywhere I go and annoying me."

"But you still went off on him pretty harshly," Mia points out.

"Maybe he's not muslim?" Sam suggests.

Amira shrugs, mutters, "if he's not then I definitely won't like him but he's in the islamic society, so I doubt that's actually the case. Even though he's maybe not a very good muslim."

"He's there, too? Like, is he stalking you, or?"

Amira sighs, shaking her head, "No, he's just in the islamic society and in my politics class and living in my brother's apartment, and also apparently he now goes to my mosque, too?!"

"Don't forget he's pals with Jonas, too," Sam mentions, laughing. "Listen, there must be a reason this handsome but annoying man has entered your life. Maybe you just need some patience."

Amira groans, but Sam pushes on, "No, Amira, you always hate guys on sight. Like with Alex," she gestures at Mia and Amira does feel bad because she's never really owned up to that, "or with Jonas, with Stefan. Guys lie and all that."

Amira honestly can't argue with that, and she hates it. Mia's been quiet for a while, and looking thoughtful, but she then gets this sparkle in her eyes. Amira hates that even more.

Later that day Mia texts her:

(Not to play devil's advocate but, don't you think it's possible that you're hiding a bit behind the 'bad muslim' thing? Because I think you guys have some incredible chemistry)

That text might haunt Amira for a while, even if she sends Mia a very stern reply.

- - - - -

Amira's chatting to her dad on the phone later that night, and she'd been trying to finish her assigned reading for the week but she kept getting distracted. She honestly felt pretty shitty about how she'd treated Mohammed. She'd had a whole heap of small frustrations building up and she had just accidentally unleashed them all straight into his bothersome face even though most of her frustrations were not at all his fault. She knew she had to apologise, and she genuinely wanted to but she struggled admitting to her brothers that she'd gotten an actor wrong because she hates being wrong. She's always right, so she's really not good at admitting fault.

"Amira, habibi, are you doing something else while we're talking?"

"Huh? Sorry, dad, I'm just a little distracted."

"Ah, I see, well, tell your old man and he can solve all your troubles."

"Hah, thanks, dad. I don't know if you can solve it, though. I was pretty rude to someone for no reason and now I have to apologise to them."

Amira's dad hums. "Was this the same boy as the annoying one in the islamic society that your mum told me about?"

"Yes," Amira mutters. Her parents truly seem to not keep any secrets from each other.

"Hah, well, you've always been very proud, kiddo. I always loved that about you. You know your worth and you don't take shit from anyone. But, before you get too comfortable, you're also terrible at admitting when you're wrong."

"Wow, thanks, dad."

"You get that from your mum, you know. I truly do think it's a good thing, but I hope you don't feel like you always have to be perfect. You've always been strong but it's good to be vulnerable, too. It's hard, sure, but good things do happen when you let your guard down just a tad."

"Ugh, dad, that was so sentimental."

Her dad laughs, "Yes, habibi, I know, I know. Let's switch topics. Tell me about the lecture you had this morning."

- - - - -

Amira is really not in the mood for an event, but even she can agree on the importance of this specific one. It's taken a lot of organisation for everything to work out, and it involves 4 societies (which is also partly why David is involved) and spans a month with one focus each week. This week's fundraising focus is the charity Jonas volunteers for, which does a lot of work with refugee integration in Berlin. She arrives a bit earlier because she promised David and Jonas she would, even though her mother is frustrated with her for not coming to the mosque for some kind of "women in islam" lecture held by a panel of men. Kiki's asking the group chat for a pre-party and since Amira is arriving at the club, she just turns the sound off and heads in, following the music to where she expects to at least find Jonas. She sees Matteo and David hanging out by the stage, where Jonas of course is sat on a stool with his guitar. Jonas sees her and calls her over and while she's approaching she takes in the other figures in the room. She mostly sees people she's never seen or people she's possibly passed on campus before. But then she sees Mohammed standing behind Jonas, by the mic, singing quietly and chatting to Jonas about something, brows drawn. He doesn't seem to notice her, so she keeps approaching.

"Study partner!" Matteo whisper-calls out, turning around to grab and open a coke bottle for Amira, "come join the soundcheck squad."

Amira accepts the drink and asks what they're up to, trying to avoid Mohammed's eyes now burning into the side of her head from where he's still chatting to Jonas.

David wiggles his eyebrows at her, "oh, we're just waiting for the jam session to pick back up. They weren't sure on which key to use, or something nerdy like that." He turns to look at Mohammed, who rolls his eyes, but Jonas starts playing. The room is filling up, there are a few people working behind the bar and some others decorating and moving tables around. Everyone's chatting to themselves and no one is really paying any attention to the stage, where Amira assumes the boys ended up helping Jonas with "soundcheck" in order to avoid manual labour. Amira truly hates being a cliche, but when she first hears Mohammed's voice, goosebumps erupt along her arms. She crosses them across her chest, gripping the coke bottle. David's swaying along and he and Matteo whoop encouragingly at certain notes and lyrics. Amira can't help but grin at their contagious hype, but when she turns her attention back to the stage, Mohammed's looking straight at her. She can't help but swallow, caught out, but looks right back, never one to back down.

Dragging along, follow in your form

Hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn

As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Amira can feel her face flushing as she narrows her eyes at Mohammed. He just smirks back at her, and finishes the song. The boys clap and cheer so loudly that they draw the attention of some official looking person with a clipboard, who sighs and huffs and splits them up. David and Matteo grab Amira to head towards the back and David turns on the way to yell some more compliments towards the stage. As they walk, David hums, "You know, Hozier is a man that I'm sure you would agree is an exception to the general rule of male shittiness."

Matteo snorts, mutters, "fucking Hozier…" but David carries on. "He doesn't write boring love songs. He doesn't get intimidated by confident women. To be honest, he loves a strong and terrifying woman-"

Matteo interjects to say, "It's one of those 'choke m-'" but thankfully gets interrupted by David clapping a hand over his mouth before Amira needs to bleach her entire brain and soul.

David sighs and hands Matteo a box of string lights that are supposed to go up somewhere. Matteo takes them with a wink and walks back into the event room. David shrugs, looking at Amira. "Anyways, Mo's got a good voice, right? I keep telling him, but he acts like it's no big deal."

Amira immediately feels suspicious. "How do you all know each other?"

"Huh? Oh, Jonas met him at some kind of open mic, jam thing. I don't really know. And then Jonas and Matteo, you know. We went to one of Jonas' gigs and Mohammed was there." David gestures in an encompassing way, like he's trying to say the rest is history.

- - - - -

The girls all arrive and 'ooh and ah' over how magical the location looks. Amira has to admit that it's nice, even if she's slightly on edge due to how often she keeps bumping into Mohammed while turning a corner. Sam happens to be next to her one of these times and she sighs and goes, "He's so charming. How is he so charming?!" Amira sighs and switches subjects by asking about Sam's nephew, which is honestly the most effective subject change ever. She even gets adorable baby photos out of it.

Later on she's walking from the bar with Mia, when Jonas announces a new song and Amira spots Mohammed by the stage. Based on earlier, she really can't handle another song so she slips away into the back garden. She can see Mia shrugging and looking questioningly at her through the large open doors, but she plants her feet and starts up a conversation with a girl she knows from her European History class. A few minutes later, Mia appears at her side, looking like the cat that got the cream. Amira tries to drag the conversation out, but she and this girl, Anna?, really don't have much in common so she leaves shortly after. Mia's arms are crossed, shit-eating red lipped grin and all.

"How's it going with Mohammed?" she asks.

Amira huffs, assuring Mia that there is nothing going, but she'll apologise when she gets a moment, thank you very much. Of course this is when Amira's Maghrib alarm goes off. Mia looks like she wants to protest, but in the end she realises she can't really argue with it so she just gives Amira her unimpressed tm look when Amira starts backing away, to find somewhere to pray. She was planning to scout out a good location while helping to set up earlier, but Mohammed had ruined those plans for her by distracting her with his face and voice. She asks one of the bartenders and gets led to the staff room, which has an adjacent but tiny bathroom. She's honestly had to settle for worse, even if the staff room could really use a lockable door. She decides to just hurry, and hope no one interrupts her.

Afterwards, she feels centred and calm, like always. She touches up her makeup, and quickly checks her phone. Sam's sent multiple messages to the group chat, the most recent being:

omg how sexy is mohammed's singing voice?! how is he so charming???????

Amira pockets her phone as she opens the door, but hits something. She pauses for a second and tries again. This time the door opens smoothly. Standing on the other side, running a hand through his stupid hair, is Mohammed.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I was heading to the bathroom and one of the bartenders was about to head in, so I-" He waves a hand at the door.

"Oh," Amira can't help but feel stunned, because she definitely doesn't deserve that level of consideration from him of all people. They stand in a slightly awkward silence, Amira looking everywhere except at Mohammed. She realises she's being a bit childish about it so she squares up, clears her throat. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry about my behaviour." She dares a glance up at Mohammed's face. He looks annoyingly smug, arms crossed over his chest. He waits her out, smirking. "I perhaps judged you a bit early. And harshly. It's.. It doesn't happen ever, really, but, I guess… I was wrong. Sorry."

Mohammed nods slowly, looking off to the side. "No harm done. So, listen-"

The door separating the club space from the staff space slams open and a frazzled bartender startles at the sight of them, looks confused. Amira takes this as a perfect opportunity, explaining herself, "Oh, sorry, I was just praying, you know," while gesturing at the locker room behind her and also her head. When the bartender nods, still confused, Amira hurries out to find the girls.

- - - - -

Amira's back at her parents' house for a weeknight dinner. She's helping set the table because her parents don't want her near the food, but she also does not want to sit and chat at the table since Essam's started the night by badgering her about Mohammed in front of their mother.

"Seen Mohammed any more?" Essam asks with a grin when Omar arrives. Amira sends him a look that could kill from across the table. Her dad perks up, "Oh, Mohammed's a good kid. You know Mohammed, Amira?"

Amira sighs, "Yeah, we have a class together, and some friends in common."

At this, Omar looks thoughtful. "You'd like Mohammed," he says, as if it's only just occurring to him, as if the gears are starting to turn.

Her dad latches onto this idea, "Yeah, that's a good point! You're very similar, Amira, stubborn but very smart." He pats her on the shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen to help their mother with the cooking.

When Amira walks back with a stack of plates, Essam's gleefully feeding Omar blackmail material about how Amira had unfairly snapped at poor Mohammed in front of everyone. "I was planning to try and convince them to date but Amira hates him."

"Hä? What did he do?"

"Thanks, Essam," Amira sighs, "He didn't do anything, he was just arguing in favour of stupid shit, and-"

"Like what?"

"Just… He keeps advocating for inclusive events in the islamic society. Having all our events open for everyone even though that always means a whole bunch of people appear and demand us to hold them by the hand and explain every single thing that's going on. Every single event. I'm sick and tired of having to educate ignorant white Germans who can't just google it. That's not why I joined the islamic society."

Omar hums. "Mohammed grew up in Syria, you know," he points out. "He didn't have to grow up in a country full of Almans who know nothing about islam and require hand-holding. So, maybe he just has a higher tolerance for that than we do?"

It's a fully reasonable argument, which Amira kind of hates. She hasn't really ever asked Mohammed anything, barely even spoken to him except to argue with him or be hostile to him. "Yeah, okay, sure. We're just not compatible people, that's all." Essam snorts. "Listen, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not going to ever date a guy who isn't a proper muslim, so that's that. Leave it."

They both look confused. "What do you mean 'not compatible'? And why would you think Mohammed's not religious? He's in the islamic society, isn't he?"

Amira shrugs, "He doesn't pray? He's- I don't know, Essam said-"

"I was surprised he was on the committee, because he's been struggling. But what even is a proper muslim, Amira?" Essam asks, with a grimace. "If Mohammed isn't then I've barely been one lately either, but you don't hate me for it?!"

"No, of course I don't hate you."

"You said my crisis was valid, and I can assure you that Mohammed's was valid, too. Is this why you snapped at him?"

Amira groans, "I don't hate him… I just. Lost my temper, I don't know why. It wasn't like I snapped on purpose. He just aggravates me. He just keeps aggravating me for no good reason." She realises she's been gesturing pretty aggressively, so she drops her shoulders and lets her hands fall to her side. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh my god, you like him."

- - - - -

Of course, it all comes to a head at Omar and Nour's Henna night. The girls have all been invited and some of the boys (specifically Jonas and Carlos). Amira had tried to convince her brothers that she absolutely did not have any feelings for Mohammed, but it seemed as if she was not very convincing. At least, she managed to get them both to agree to leave her alone and definitely not mention anything about it to the guy in question. And Amira knows they wouldn't dare cross her. During the night she has managed to mostly avoid the aunties and uncles that have been giving her far too wide smiles all night, and she's managed to duck out of several conversations before she had anyone ask her when's your turn, habibi and ended up snapping at anyone. She's chatting to Jonas and Hanna in a decently secluded corner, teaching Jonas the accurate pronunciation of all the sweets he's eating. He's shockingly good at it, and he's really pleased about that fact.

Then, there's a tap on her shoulder. Hanna's eyes widen, and she gently but firmly drags Jonas away. Amira feels this sense of doom impending, but she's also got a few hardcore butterflies appearing in the depths of her stomach. She turns, and there's Mohammed. He's got a piece of baklava in the palm of his upturned hand and he grins at her.

"Frau Bundeskanzlerin," he mutters, doing a really douche-y bow. Amira can't help but laugh, and glances around the room. God, everyone can see this, Amira thinks, even though realistically no one is looking in their direction, but instead talking to the future bride and groom.

"What's your deal?" is what comes out of her mouth.

Mohammed snorts, smile faltering just a little, "my deal?"

"It's really not cute to be flirting with a girl if you're not even fucking religious, you know. Do you know how fucking impossible and rare it is to even have decent interactions with men as a hijabi without them wanting to save or objectify you? It's literally not something that happens. I am sick and tired-"

"Wow," Mohammed mutters, though grinning, popping the piece of baklava he was supposedly presenting Amira with into his mouth and chewing. "What have I done to deserve this utter annihilation?"

"What have you done? You're impossible to read. You're debating in the islamic society one day, then you're not a practicing muslim, then a day later you're in the mosque. What's your deal?"

Mohammed rolls his eyes, crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I'll hold a full length lecture on my relationship with islam in the morning, if you want, but as for what my deal is, I've been trying to ask you out on a date." He shrugs one shoulder, like it's obvious.

Amira splutters in surprise. "You've…. what?"

"It's not my fault you're distracting. You know, you're the one who's impossible. I've literally been in love with you since you gave me that stink eye in ISOC. I think you're amazing even though you're infuriating and judgemental as hell."

"Hmm, we'll agree to disagree."

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "What? No, we definitely won't! Come on!"

Amira notices, from the corner of her eye, that a few aunties and girls she knows from elementary school are taking an interest in them and then she realises how close they've drifted during their conversation. "Shit, people are looking at us."

Mohammed hums, looks around. He shrugs, takes a demonstrative step back. "There we go, much more appropriate."

Amira rolls her eyes, cheeks aching from smiling. "So, your method of flirting is just being oppositional, then?"

"Might be… It worked, though, right?" Amira snorts. "Maybe I should've been more direct and asked for an audience through your secretary?"

It shouldn't make Amira giggle, because it's not really funny, but she still giggles like a schoolgirl she definitely is not. "Hey, Mohammed?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "I'd love to."

#yousanaexchange #druck fic #mazzouk #thickskinandelasticheart #izzy writes #let there be no typos...... and let all my italics pls still be there

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anhed-nia · 5 years

Text

i just flaked out of the last session of a series of mycology classes that I signed up for this summer. this is extremely rare for me, as i typically torment myself with feelings of obligation that almost only amount to opportunities to feel bad about something. in this case, i also paid for the damn things, in an amount that turned out to be way more than they were worth. i had really high hopes for these classes; before i started my horticulture program, i was looking for opportunities to study mushrooms, but there didn’t seem to be anything in nyc besides a couple of social clubs. i follow a number of mycology organizations and farms online though, and i was thrilled when one of my favorites announced that they would be coming from upstate to teach a series of five classes in washington heights. during the introduction phase of our first class, i blithely declared that i was excited to do something that was more academic than just meetups with hobbyist groups. nobody disabused me of that idea, and they really should have.

washington heights is technically in manhattan, but for me it might as well be out of town. when the original schedule went out, it said we would meet in the afternoon, and i didn’t find out until shortly before the first session that we are actually starting at 10am. that got me up at ass o’clock to shower, gather my materials, and travel an hour and a half by train, bus, and kind of a long walk to get to the rec room of an apartment building where our first session. i realized i would be travelling a cumulative three hours for a three hour class, but i was still feeling pretty stoked. i didn’t develop a sense of dread until i got there, and saw that the room was empty except for the two organizers. they were playing reggae on a boombox and blazing a ton of nag champa, as one of them shuffled around the room barefoot waving a smudge stick around. i bit my proverbial tongue, trying to shelve my prejudices so they didn’t get in the way of the obviously awesome education i was about to get. a central coffee table was piled with all sorts of text books and dry specimens that i dove right into. i might have left right then, though, if i knew what i heard about an hour later, that they referred to this table as “the Altar.”

other people showed up as much as half an hour later, which annoyed me a little bit since i had woken up in the dark that morning to prepare for this. admittedly i don’t really understand the concept of fashionable lateness, but i felt like casually gouging 30 minutes out of a 3 hour paid event was kind of unfair. as it turned out, the instructor had failed to bring the equipment she needed for her powerpoint presentation, so we were delayed further while she tried and failed to scrounge up cables, and we missed out on visual aids and actual videos that probably would have been pretty useful. once we sat down and introduced ourselves, the second red flag popped up: a lot of the people in the room seemed to know each other. obviously that’s not bad in and of itself, but i could see what was happening. i was in the midst of a clique who were basically there to do what they would do under any other circumstances: listen to bad music, choke on incense, perform pseudo-spiritual rituals, and roll around on the floor. the difference between them and me, bigger than their intimacy and aesthetic values, was that i had paid [redacted] amount of money just to sit on the periphery of their fun hangout and listen to them sling rote revolutionary slogans and sociology jargon. some folks brought up important topics, like food sovereignty and mycoremediation, but we would never get deep enough into our topic to really address anything that interesting.

when it was my turn to talk, i realized that this was going to be an experience that i hadn’t really had since high school--my hair was wrong, my clothes were wrong, my speech was wrong, and i had been marked as a weirdo and an outsider. believe it or not, as an adult, i don’t much worry about what people might think about me, unless they force my awareness of it. i just figure i’m kind of different from a lot of people i encounter, and we can handle that with appropriate levels of polite distance. but, in the class, as the only person wearing black, and the only person in a collared shirt, and one of the only people who kept her shoes on and sat in a chair, it was impossible to ignore the discomfort people had with me. maybe it was also the fact that i failed to cite indigenous religions as part of my reason for being there, or to talk about “holding space” for healing or whatever. i actually went out of my way to be friendly and vocal, thinking i could alleviate some of the tension, but in some ways that seemed to make things worse. but i never thought i would have to worry about any of this; i mean call me crazy, but i really thought i was there to learn about fungi.

when the class finally started in earnest, my mistake became even clearer. A minor point of contention for me was the teacher’s casual snark toward the psychedelic community. i’m well aware of how bro-y that world can be, but i still thought it was kind of lame that she had to toss out barbs at drug nerds who refer to primordia as “pin sets” while doing a mean voice and rolling her eyes dramatically. maybe she felt like it was necessary to clarify that this would not be an entheogen-centric course, but she could have done better than to make fun of the way people talk. i say this because when she introduced scientific taxonomy basics, she mentioned “kingdom,” and pointedly followed it with the correction “OR QUEENDOM.” i can understand why we should challenge gendered vocabulary in non-gender-related areas, but it really made me feel like standing up and saying EXCUSE ME BUT YOU ARE USING VERY BINARY TERMS RIGHT NOW AND I WISH YOU WOULD ASSUME ACCOUNTABILITY FOR MAINTAINING A SAFE SPACE FOR EVERYONE. worse than that, when it came time to describe how substrate becomes inoculated with mycelium, she first used the correct mycological vocabulary, saying “the mycelium colonizes the soil”, and then added boldly, “BUT WE’RE NOT GOING TO USE THAT WORD.” this drove me absolutely insane. first of all, as with the kingdom/queendom distinction, she’s just making things confusing for people who are totally brand new to the topic and will absolutely need to know what the common contemporary terms are before they can make informed decisions about what kind of language they want to subscribe to later. secondly, this isn’t like the debate over reclaiming words like “queer”--”colony/colonization” is not a slur. it also doesn’t carry a moral connotation; even when we describe conquistadors colonizing central america, that doesn’t describe the inherent superiority of the spanish and inferiority of the indigenous peoples. colonization is the accepted description of a population of organisms taking over a certain area. i mean are we also working on changing the term ”ant colony” or even “artists’ colony”? is that a reasonable use of our collective political energy? and secondly, i agree that decolonizing thought is important. i remember the moment when, as an art history student, a professor taught us how to make a certain point by using the word “germinal” instead of “seminal”; i get the concept. but i don’t think that the problem of colonized thought is the use of the word “colonize” itself, and i don’t think that depriving us of the ability to describe colonization is going to help us identify and attack instances of...FUCKING COLONIZATION.

by the end of the first session...well, i couldn’t tell if it was the end exactly people had started milling around and snacking and talking about whatever, and considering our late start and just the general atmosphere of confusion, i wasn’t sure if i was supposed to wait for something else to happen. finally i just walked off, feeling pretty agitated. but, i clung to the idea that maybe further sessions would be of more value, that it was ok for the first class to consist of a bunch of shit i already knew as a result of casual interest, or could have easily looked up on wikipedia. future sessions were supposed to focus on field ID and foraging, and medicinal preparations and applications, among other things i’m ignorant of. i told myself that once the material became more stimulating, i would be naturally distracted from the dirty feet and elaborate yoga poses and insidery preaching-to-the-choir political language of my classmates, and would find myself engrossed finally in one of my favorite topics. probably i also just didn’t want to acknowledge how much money i had wasted.

what should have been the second class was postponed because the instructor’s van had broken down, which was totally understandable, although it kind of felt like par for the course considering the messiness of the previous session. unfortunately, it threw off the whole schedule, so we then wound up having two back to back days together, a regular saturday session, followed by an all-day foraging excursion that started earlier than usual and took place even further away than usual. i might as well have just gotten a hotel room up there for the weekend, but whatever, i sort of understood the risks when i signed up. the foraging session was what i was most looking forward to, and was the biggest disaster. i still hadn’t gotten the memo about how cool it was to show up as much as 45 minutes late, even for an event where we were supposed to meet up at a remote horse stable and then venture into the woods together. we didn’t get started until a least an hour, probably more after the 9am start. i’d been there since 8:50, and had to sit through an interminable playtime in which everybody did chakra-clearing breathing techniques and stretches, improv exercises and vocal warmups, and played some dumb hippy game where everybody tries to steal a stick from one another. my aforementioned sense of tortured obligation has caused me to submit to juvenile horrors like this in other circumstances, even though i thought adulthood was supposed to exempt me from this gym class bullshit, but i put my foot down this time, and sat about 25 feet away patiently waiting for the class to start, suffering some accusative glances.

the actual foraging we did was really fun, but being in the group was worse than ever. there was an excessive amount of anthropomorphizing going on, with all specimens described as “friends” that each student was encouraged to “meet” and “hang out with”, which resulted in a constant stream of high-pitched baby talk among us. i had been strongly warned against this anthropomorphizing mentality, both from a (fabulous, brilliant) druid-like arborist who taught my intro to botany class, and from the animal welfare community, all of whom correctly assert that projecting human needs and emotions onto non-human organisms is both delusional and actually dangerous for both people and the lifeforms around us...but whatever i guess. i had more immediate worries, because at some point, the baby talk gave way to improvised singing. it was brutally hot and dank in the woods, and the thrill of finding all kinds of different specimens was barely outweighed by the intense chagrin i felt as most of the group began stumbling through the creation of a hymn of gratitude to the mushrooms. sometimes we had to stop completely on the path so everyone could get in a circle and sing a round or three together. this was scheduled to be a 7 hour excursion, and by hour 3 i was seriously trying to work out at what point i would declare a family emergency or food poisoning and just run away.

part of the experience included a bit of a plant walk, led by one of the organizers who knew a lot about indigenous flora. this was sort of interesting in and of itself, and also relevant, since different mushrooms may grow on or near certain plants. but somehow, it still didn’t amount to a reasonable educational experience. half way through the hike, i noticed a classmate excitedly snatching up all the mugwort that she came across. she had been told by our guide about the many virtues of this “plant medicine”, a traditional cure-all for everything from epilepsy to PMS. what she hadn’t been told, evidently, is that mugwort is ferociously invasive, and practically impossible to get rid of. mugwort will choke out everything else around it, destroying the biodiversity that is necessary to support a healthy local ecology, losing us desirable plant life and starving out animal populations. i tried to tell her that she should be careful with that stuff, and avoid planting it in her yard if that was the fantasy, but she turned away irritably, clutching gnarled bundles of the sacred healer in her fists. it was a little thing, but somehow it really locked in the fact that i was in the wrong place. i hadn’t learned remotely as much new information about mushrooms as i should have in ~15 hours, and i had reason to believe that information we were getting could be less than reliable, or made unreliable by omission of other important facts. i had to get out of there. at some point we encountered a different mushroom group--a collection of appealing nerds in their 40s-60s called the Destroying Angels (after the deadly white amanita) who had accumulated a way cooler array of specimens than us, probably because they got started at a reasonable hour. i barely prevented myself from begging them to take me with them.

we returned to our spot near the parking lot two hours ahead of our scheduled conclusion, and as before, the situation devolved into a general hangout with no clear indication that the educational portion of the day was over. there were more songs and more games, and though i was coerced away from my boulder in the sun to join the group around their blanket, i managed to feign sleep long enough to get out of most of the activities. i was legitimately exhausted, at least.when i was thoroughly convinced that the lesson was over, i told everyone that i was too tired to continue and left, sparing myself an hour and a half of further agony.

ever since, i had been worrying about the final class. i absolutely wanted to learn about medicinal preparations and tinctures and home-growing techniques. but could it possibly be worth it? could i even be sure that the session would consist of more than what i had already learned from experience, and from unfairly maligned drug nerds on the internet? was i not too annoyed that the date of this class wasn’t even announced until four days ago, even though the class basically requires a day trip for more students than just me? by last night, the answers were perfectly clear. i let the group know that “something came up” without specifying, and bid them farewell, thanking them for their “inclusivity” among other things, which only i know is a joke. (at the end of the last i informed them all that i have ASD and don’t like to be touched, and i had the satisfying sense that they all realized that that was part of the reason i refused to join in their reindeer games) i’m vaguely concerned that i will have to deal with an annoyed instructor who literally owes me a bottle of tincture and growing materials as part of the price of the class, and who should really mail them to me now, but i can’t drag myself back to washington heights again just to avoid that nonsense. i don’t know what lesson i’m supposed to learn from this experience; maybe it’s enough to say that i don’t have to force myself to do everything i ever say i’m going to do, and also that in spite of the long way i have come from being an angry little punk poseur in college, i still hate hippies as much as ever. the end.

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j-j-ehlby-writes · 5 years

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Fate (c.e.) (3/6)

Chapter Three- Kismet

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans x Student!OFC

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: fate (noun): the development of events beyond a person’s control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. (verb): be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way.

Amara is about to start her senior year of college with her newly single best friend, Elizabeth. She goes out one night and meets a handsome stranger, Chris. Sparks fly. Fast forward a week and she finds out Chris is her professor. What happens when she also meets Sebastian, a cute guy from another one of her classes?

Series masterlist

“Are you almost done? He’s gonna be here in a few minutes!” Lizzie shouts from the other side of my bathroom door. It's finally time for my date with Sebastian. After my meeting with Chris, I rushed home to drown my feelings in a couple more pieces of crunchy, peanut butter toast and Sex and the City reruns. Big and Carrie were perfect together when things were great between them. He treated her like the queen she was. I wanted a Mr. Big, without all of the breaking up, moving around the world, and being with other people. It wasn’t until I was getting ready for my date that my Mr. Big could be Sebastian sans all of the breaking up.

I finish re-applying my eyeliner and take one last look at my outfit. The sweater was fitted around my arms, but baggy around my torso, just the way I like it. My light washed jeans popped against my sweater but went perfectly with my new burgundy Converse. My hair was curled, thanks to my best friend, completing my look. I went with a neutral pink color for my lips and added a light gloss for shine. I looked cute, and when I came out of the bathroom, Lizzie repeated my thoughts.

“Are you nervous?” She asks plopping herself on the couch with a couple leftover tacos from Tuesday. She was dressed in an old band tee and a pair of sweatpants from our school. Her make-up was already washed off and her hair was up in a messy bun. She already finished her homework for the weekend and was getting ready to catch up on Supernatural, which I made her watch this summer and now she’s hooked.

“I mean, a little. But it’s Sebastian. He doesn’t make me nervous. I’m just excited to go out on a date. And the fact that it’s with Sebastian just makes it even better.” I smile just thinking about spending time with him, just the two of us. I’m curious to know what he has planned for us. The typical dinner and a movie? Just dinner? Will he try “Netflix and chill” with me? Nah. That doesn’t seem like his style. It doesn’t matter what we do though. I just want to go out on a date with him.

The intercom by the door buzzes, letting us know someone was here. I run over to the door, pressing the talk button. “Who is it?” I ask already knowing exactly who it was.

His rich voice comes through the speaker, “It’s your date for the evening.”

“Hmm, you’re going to have to be more specific.” He opened up that door so I decide to tease him a little bit.

“Your 7 o’clock dinner date.” I giggle, picturing the smile that was fighting not to appear on his cute face.

“Come on up.” I buzz him in and wait for him to come to the door.

“He’s coming to the door? Very classy.” Lizzie comments while we wait. “Seriously, where did you pick him up and does he have any friends?”

“I’m sure he does. I promise I’ll let you know if I meet them.”

As soon as I hear the three knocks on our door, I open it to a very gorgeous looking Sebastian. He's wearing a burgundy button down with small, vertical and horizontal white stripes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of medium washed jeans, and a pair of black dress shoes. He's smiling from ear to ear. I tried to keep my cool just seeing how handsome he looked standing in my doorway. And to make it better, he takes a bouquet of red roses out from behind his back. I couldn’t help but let the smile that was fighting to stay hidden take over my face. This guy couldn’t be any more amazing. I put the bouquet in a vase we had under the sink and was out the door.

“So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?” I pester while we were walking to his car. I knew he wasn’t going to budge, but I had to pester as much as possible.

“Nope.” He opens the passenger side door for me. “You’re just going to have to be patient.” I jump in his SUV, eagerly awaiting for this date to start. He hops in and we take off down the road. After about ten minutes, we pull up to my favorite Italian restaurant. I don’t remember telling him about this place being my favorite. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’m not complaining.

We have a really nice dinner. We talk about our families and how we grew up. I learn we both had divorced parents. He learned I had an interesting upbringing. I almost didn’t mention any of it because I didn’t want to scare him off with the baggage I had. He didn’t seem too freaked out. He asks me questions about how he thought it all shaped me as a person, how it might affect my choosing of a future husband, etc.. He was genuinely interested in my past and he was really sweet about all of it. I couldn’t help but get butterflies in my stomach thinking about a future with him. I know it’s only our first date, but it feels like I’ve known him all my life. Isn’t that how you’re supposed to feel?

“Alright.” He says closing his car door after dinner. “Enough with the heavy. Let’s have some fun.” We take off down the road towards our next destination. In five minutes, we’re walking up to a live music venue where a indie/alternative band was playing. I’d never heard of them, but I was thoroughly impressed. Sebastian and I sway along to the music, with his arms wrapped around my waist from behind. I had a smile on my face all night long thanks to him. When the show was over and we bought some merch, we hit the local frozen yogurt place before calling it a night.

Overall, it was the most perfect first date I’ve ever been on. When we had finished our sweet treats, he was a perfect gentleman and walked me all the way up to my apartment door. I didn’t want to say goodbye to him. I didn’t want the night to be over. Not yet.

“I had a really nice time tonight.” I know it was the most cliché thing to say at the end of the first date, but in this case it was true. But I didn’t want to come off as too eager and say it was the best date I had ever been on. If I had to pick the ideal date to go on with Sebastian, it was tonight. Hands down.

After some small talk to try and postpone the inevitable, the end of the night came. “Good night, babe.” He smiles as he pulls his hand out of mine. My heart stopped.

I yank him back, “Excuse me,” the blush creeped up in his face and probably in mine too. “Did you just call me ‘babe’?” I had to poke fun at him while I could. Anything to keep this night going a little longer. “Because I believe that’s a ‘girlfriend’ nickname, and you sir, have only taken me on one date.”

“Alright. How many dates do I have to take you on to make that sort of request?” He steps closer, causing the butterflies to go awry in my stomach thinking about what is about to happen.

“Well I’d say that after tonight, that request could be made in one afternoon hang out session, and one dinner and a movie.” I figure that would be an appropriate amount of time for us to spend together for this to be something official. I really like him and I don’t want to rush into things with him. I don’t want to ruin things by going too quickly.

“I think that’s appropriate.” He agrees smiling. He leans in placing a simple kiss on my cheek. How does this simple of a gesture make my heart go pitter-patter and feel all twitter-pated? “I’ll see you Monday.” I watch him walk away, making note that he has the roundest ass I have ever seen before.

I spend the entire weekend in listening to the band from the concert. I suggested numerous songs for Sebastian to listen to, making sure to rope him in as much as I was. I wanted him to come over to listen, but I didn’t want to be too forward. Even though we just had our first date, we were already planning our next date. Since we went out last time, we decided to just stay in, order pizza, and watch movies from his “master collection.” As nice as it was to go out on a date, we both agreed that we would much rather stay in together for our next hangout. We decided on this upcoming Friday, as much as we wanted to hang out again as soon as possible. However since we’re seeing each other on Monday, we decided to postpone it until Friday.

By Monday, I opt for a comfy look with super baggy, black sweatpants and an old, black concert tee. My hair was sloppily put up in a ponytail. The only thing I put effort in my make-up. Even when I felt like crap, I knew I was seeing Sebastian. And he can’t see me all natural. We’re not at that stage yet.

We met up at the coffee shop early enough that there wasn’t too long of a wait.

“You’re letting yourself go already? We’ve only been on one date!” He screeches when he saw me, standing in line. He earned himself a good whack on the arm as soon as I got closer.

“Get used to it, bud. I dress like this 99% of the time when I’m not at school.” I quip back, my tough façade cracking by the chuckle that came out as well. I wanted to be tough but his smile made that impossible. He wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind like it was the most natural thing in the world. Everything with him felt natural; like we had been doing this for years, rather than knowing each other for days. I’m really liking this feeling I get when I’m with him. I feel giddy when he’s around like I have a little school girl crush on him. But I love it. I’ve been waiting for years for this feeling. All I can think is “finally.”

He continues the gesture even when we ordered. We sit down after our drinks were done and food was heated up, chatting until it was time to go to our classes. I didn’t want to go to class though, knowing I would have to face Chris again. I just prayed to God that he wouldn’t ask me to stay after again. I don’t want a repeat of what happened in his office…

Unlike Wednesday’s class, he didn’t go over people’s work. All he did was give us a prompt: Kismet, and how we interpret it. I shake my head when he informed us of this prompt. I know he was meaning it for me, and that’s not okay. So, instead of writing about what I know he wants me to, I write about how I don’t believe in that wonder just to piss him off. When I finish with that, I turn it in and leave with a smirk.

“What are you smirking about?” Sebastian asks when he saw me after his class had gotten out.

“Nothing really. I might have just pissed off my professor.”

“Which one?!”

“The new one who teaches Advanced Writing of Fiction. He told us to write about kismet and how we interpret it, so I write about how I don’t believe in it.” We chuckle at my slightly reckless behavior.

“I knew you were wild, but not wild enough to blatantly disobey your professor.” He throws his arm around me and we start walking towards the cafeteria. “I like it.” He smiles, making my insides turn to goo. Damn him.

That’s kind of how all week went. I did everything I could to defy Chris and what he wanted, and I got closer to Sebastian. He even came over on Wednesday after I was done with my piano practice. Lizzie, him and I hung out all night until he had to leave. He later asked me if that counted as the one afternoon hangout session I had previously mentioned. I said it didn’t count because Lizzie was there. He was a little bummed but I reminded him of Friday and he shut up about it.

When Friday finally came, I go to his rehearsals at 3 and wait for him to be done with that so we could have a relaxing night in. I took the bus to campus instead of driving. Sebastian is going to drive us to his place for the night in. He said the fridge was fully stocked with junk food and drinks for us and he had his movie collection ready for us to plow through. His words, not mine. I shook my head at him when he said that. He’s such a dork.

I did my homework while I waited for his rehearsals to wrap up. When it was finally over, he called me down to the stage so he could tell me that he would shower and then be out so to meet him at the entrance to the building. I packed my stuff and headed that way. I knew I would be waiting a little while but I didn’t mind. I wanted to warm up outside the theater so I wouldn’t be a popsicle for him later. I sat off to the side, by the huge statue of the school mascot and finished what the last portion of my homework.

“Amara?”

I look up to see Chris standing a few feet from me, carrying a gym bag and was all sweaty as if he had just got done working out. I had to stop myself from gasping at how breathtaking he looked. His normally gelled hair was limply hanging by the side of his face, his shirt has V-shaped sweat mark on his chest and under the armpits. He had a towel hanging around his neck, too.

“What are you doing here so late?” Breaking me out of my trance, he comes over to where I was sitting. I look away from him, embarrassed since he probably knew I was staring at him.

“Waiting for a friend to get out of rehearsal. What are you doing here so late?” I mentally facepalm myself for asking such a stupid question. It’s obvious he just got done working out. Now he probably thinks I’m an idiot.

“Just finished my workout. It’s the only time I get to do it and the facilities are free to faculty members. That was one of the selling points when I interviewed for the position.” I snicker knowing that was no lie. I knew he worked out from the second I met him. There’s no way he got those muscles by just sitting at home.

I hear footsteps approaching, taking my attention away from Chris. Thank God it was Sebastian. “Hey, you ready to go?” He asks before registering Chris’s presence. “Who is this?”

I stand up and move closer to him. “This is Mr. Evans. He’s my Advanced Writing of Fiction professor.” I’m hoping he pays enough attention to know that this is the professor I’ve been disobeying and possibly pissing off all week. If he did know, he hid it well. He shakes hands with him.

“I’m Sebastian, Amara’s boyfriend.” I wanted to protest, but the way Chris reacted was priceless. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, his mouth moved to a straight line, and he stood up a little taller to try and look bigger than Sebastian, even though they’re about the same height and body mass. Seeing Chris a little jealous was endearing to see. He does care, even if he shouldn’t.

“Well I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Evans.” I drag Sebastian away from the building before anything else could happen. When we were in his car, he had to say something.

“That’s the professor you’ve been trying to piss off?” He gapes at me. “What are you trying to do? Make him fall in love with you?”

“Oh yeah. I’m trying to make him fall madly in love with me by constantly pissing him off. I’m a shoe-in.” I roll my eyes and shook my head.

“And what am I? Just someone to make him jealous ?” He wasn’t serious. His voice was filled with sarcasm.

“Did I not tell you? Sorry…” We glance at each other before bursting out laughing. Maybe at first, I thought he could distract me from thinking about Chris. Yes, it was mean of me to use him like that. But that couldn’t be further from the truth now. I really like him and I think this could go somewhere and turn out to be a great love.

After he started driving, I remembered something. “So, I don’t recall having a boyfriend.” I turn to him, waiting for his answer.

“I know, I’m sorry. It was the first thing that popped in my head.” I guess that was an acceptable answer. “And besides, I do plan on making that happen. Soon.” He winks before returning his attention back to the road. That smooth fothermucker…

As soon as we get to his place, Chris was never brought up again. We engrossed ourselves in numerous movies and indulged in countless amounts of junk food. It was exactly what I was hoping for: a relaxing night in with a wonderful guy. He was a perfect gentleman, too: he didn’t make any moves on me, he waited until I snuggled up to him to put his arms around me, he offered me the last piece of pizza instead of just going for it himself- everything was great. By the time either of us looked at the clock, it was well into the wee hours of the morning. So instead of him driving me home, I spent the night. He offered me my own blankets in case I wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in the same bed as him. I skipped that, though. We’re adults. We can control ourselves and sleep under the same blankets together.

The next morning, I woke up before he did. I roll over and was greeted with his adorable sleeping face. How can someone who is sleeping look like a ray of sunshine?

“You’re staring.” He groans with his eyes still closed.

“I’m admiring.” I smile back. As if he could see through his eyelids, his sweet smile returned on his face making my heart go pitter-patter. He finally opened his eyes to meet mine.

“Good morning.” He groans again. His voice is extra deep in the morning which was super sexy. I could get used to this.

“Morning.” I snuggle in closer to him, burrowing myself in the crook of his neck. He was warm and still smelled like his cologne that he put on last night. It was a mixture of some kind of wood and soap. It literally smelled like heaven to me.

He wraps me up in his arms and pulls me even closer than I was with our limbs intertwined. We both sigh with contentment. It's obvious neither of us wanted to get up just yet. I actually think he did fall back asleep because after a little while his breathing went back to being slow and steady. I wanted to do the same but I can’t stay in one place for long when falling asleep so there was no way I could have. Instead I used that time to think more about this man. He is literally the total package. He’s smart (he told me he had a 3.7 GPA in high school and had about the same now), he’s a family man (he talks to his mom every day either by calling or texting), he has a great sense of humor (he makes the appropriate amount of jokes but knows when it’s time to be serious), and so much more. The fact that he’s totally adorable is just a bonus.

And for some strange reason, by some miracle, he chose me to spend his time with. I will do everything in my power not to screw up this amazing opportunity that I have been given.

Somehow while thinking, I do drift back to sleep as well. When I awoke though, to my bewilderment I was alone. I left Sebastian’s room to find him in the kitchen, making something that smelled like bacon.

“You’re a ninja.”

“Or you’re just a really heavy sleeper.” He counters with a smirk.

“But seriously, how did you do that? We were a human pretzel.” My astonishment for his skills is blowing my mind.

“Very sneakily.” He winks, returning to the stove where there was bacon in a pan. “Grab a seat at the table. Brunch is almost ready.”

“How long have you been up?” I ask taking my place at the breakfast bar.

“About an hour.”

“Why didn’t you wake me? I would have helped with brunch.” I feel guilty that he was doing everything and I was just sitting here.

He turns off the stove and comes over to me. “You were too cute to wake up.” He quickly pecks my cheek and going back to the food. “Did you sleep good?”

We continue some more small talk until he served French toast with a side of bacon. My mouth immediately starts watering before I could take a bite.

After a delicious meal, he brings me home much to our dismay. He walks me to my door, like the gentleman that he was. “So, Friday, how about we do dinner and a movie after I get done with rehearsal?” He leans up against the wall near my door.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“You pick the movie and bring the oversized purse, I’ll bring the candy and drinks?” I nod in agreement. I love that we both love getting candy from the gas station and sneak it into the movie theater instead of paying skyrocket prices for the exact same candy. Neither of us like spending so much money on the popcorn so that wasn’t an issue.

He pecks my cheek then started down the hallway. I fumble with my keys to unlock the door.

“Hey Amara?” I look down the hall to see Sebastian at the top of the stairs. He pauses before smirking. “I like you.”

A stupid smile appeared on my face. I knew he did but actually hearing it made my heart swell.

“I’m kinda fond of you, too.”

His smile lit up his adorable face before he disappeared down the stairs. That smile was stuck on my face all day, and every time I closed my eyes I saw his face before he went down the stairs. His words repeated in my head which would make my cheeks hurt more and more every time I thought about him.

I can’t believe this is my life right now. I’m about to graduate from college in something I’m passionate about, I’m going to start an internship at a publishing company a.k.a. my dream job, I have an amazing best friend, and a great guy who adores me as much as I adore him… I’m not naïve enough to think things will be like this for long. I know something is going to happen to screw at least one of those things up. I don’t know which one and I don’t know when, but I’m terrified for when that time comes.

Sunday was a wonderful day, except I couldn’t seem to get comfortable when I tried to go to sleep Saturday night. I tossed and I turned, not able to get comfortable. And when I did doze off, it was a very light, dreamless sleep. It was rather annoying. I woke up at an ungodly hour (7:30am) so I got up, did my homework, and took a nap after lunch. The rest of the night was great until I checked my email before I went to bed. There was an email from Chris, telling me to see him after my classes tomorrow. Nothing about what this impromptu meeting was going to be about. Just simply “See me after your last class tomorrow. -C”. Yay. Can’t wait…

I text Sebastian right away to complain. His response? “That’s what you get for pissing him off MULTIPLE times by disobeying him!” and “Just try not to be too cute. He might fall for you before I get the opportunity to ;)” Why I oughta…

Even after another horrible night sleep, I had to make sure I looked extra good for when I saw Chris. Despite what Sebastian said, I do want to look good to make him realize what he can’t have, while looking good for Sebastian in the meantime. It’s a win-win for me. I put on a white, long-sleeved tunic, dark-washed skinny jeans, and a dark gray knitted, infinity scarf. I throw my hair up into a high ponytail and tease it a little to give it a little extra “oomph”. I do my usual make-up but still added my glasses. I finish the look off with light brown boots and my usual necklaces and earrings. With a few spritzes of some body spray, I'm finally ready. I grab my stuff, leaving with Lizzie.

When we arrive on campus, I see Sebastian waiting in the front of the main building for me like we always did every morning. As I walk up, he shakes his head at me. “You really don’t like to listen, do ya?”

“Nope!” I smile, putting extra emphasis on the “p.” “That’s something you’re going to learn about me pretty quickly.” I stop in front of him. “And by the way, this is for you, idiot.” I poke him in the stomach which was unsurprisingly firm.

“Well in that case…” He throws his arm around my shoulders, kissing my cheek, and escorts me to class. “Good luck with the man.” He whispers before kissing my cheek again and walking down the hall. I roll my eyes and enter the lecture room.

Class wasn’t too bad. He gives us free reign on what we wanted to write about this time. It was nice actually. I just jot down a couple paragraphs about my ideal date and what that would entail. I saw something on Pinterest that I have yet to show Sebastian of a round bed that’s suspended over a lakeside. I have no idea where that could possibly be done or have that sort of thing, but it’s been on my bucket list ever since I saw it a few years ago. We would go around sunset, have a nice dinner on the lake side, then get on the suspended bed, and have a relaxing evening over the lake in the moonlight. Just spending time together in a magically romantic setting is what I would call the perfect date.

When I hand in the finished paper, Chris asks me what time I would be done with my classes so he knows when I will be by.

“I should be done at or anywhere around four. Your office?” He nod so I take that as my cue to leave. I get my food once I get to the dining room and find a table. Sebastian and Lizzie walk up at the same time, talking animatedly about who was the best superhero. I love that they get along really well. If the guy I’m interested in doesn’t get along with my best friend, then I can’t be with that guy. Lizzie is my best friend in the entire world. I will choose her over a guy any day of the week. “Chicks before dicks” as we say. She is going to be around a lot, since we live together. And if things were awkward because they didn’t like each other, well then things aren’t going to end well with the guy.

“So, are we going to meet up after you’re done with your meeting?” Lizzie asks after concluding her argument with Sebastian.

“If you want to wait, that’s fine. If you don’t, I’ll just take the bus home. I don’t exactly know how long this little meeting will be since I have no idea why he wants to meet with me.” I roll my eyes. We already had our meeting to “get to know me and my writing style.” What more could he possibly have to say?

“I’ll wait for you,” Sebastian volunteers. “I have to ask the theater director a few things before rehearsals tomorrow. I can bring you home after, if you want.” He shrugs like his offer wasn’t a big deal, but to me, it was. Is it bad that my heart swelled a little at his generosity? I know he’s here anyway, but still. Just the smallest gesture goes a long way with me.

The rest of lunch goes by quickly, as well as my last two classes. Sebastian and I walk to our class as always and he even walks with me to Chris’s office building before we parted ways. I take a deep breath before entering the building. When his office door came into view, it is cracked so I take that as an invite in.

But when I enter the room, I am not prepared for what I saw…

Chris in a serious lip-lock with a brunette.

He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and she has her entire body pressed up against him. His hands are resting on her hips while hers are wrapped around his neck. I could see the usage of tongue on both of their parts which completely grossed me out.

“Oh God!” I blurt, trying to shield my eyes, but it was too late. I had already seen too much. My outburst seemed to tear them apart. The look on her face made it obvious she was pissed for someone interrupting. His, on the other hand, was filled with shock, embarrassment, and was that a little bit of guilt? “Get a room next time.” I slam the door shut, effectively canceling our meeting.

“Amara, wait!” I hear him shout as I retreat down the hallway. There is no way in hell I would “wait” and listen to his explanation. He doesn’t owe me one. I’m his student. Nothing more… Then why did my heart feel like it was breaking?

“Amara!” His shout is louder this time. I turn to see him coming down the stairs to where I was now.

“If you needed to cancel our meeting, all you had to do was let me know.” I continue down the stairs, not wanting to look at him right now. All I could see was the two of them.

“I didn’t know she would be coming in. I told her that I had a meeting today.” He tried to explain while following me.

“Who is she, huh? Is she your girlfriend?” I turn to see his face. I wanted to know if he would lie to me. That is something I would not tolerate.

He didn’t say anything, though. His fists clenched and unclenched like he wanted to do something but was holding back. His eyes echoed his body language. As he stood at the top of the staircase, he almost looked guilty again. But guilty of what?

And then it clicked…

“She’s your fiancée.” He didn’t have a ring on his finger, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t. I only saw the right side of her so I could have totally missed a rock on her left hand…

Again, he said nothing. He instead looked down as if he were ashamed to admit it. He’s ashamed he got caught; ashamed that he was in a committed relationship when he was with me just a few weeks ago. He cheated on her. With me.

“Unbelievable.” I spit before exiting the stairwell. This time he didn’t follow me. He knew he couldn’t say anything anymore since we would be in public. But that’s okay. I was done with this conversation. I was done with him. From now on, nothing ever happened between us. That night didn’t occur. I went to the bar that night, wrote a little bit, then went home. He and I don’t know each other outside of school. He is my professor. I will see him on Mondays and Wednesdays at 11 until 12:30 and that’s it. The only times I will see him outside of class is when we have a meeting about mid-terms and finals. I will not allow myself to be swept away by him again. I will not let that happen.

Chapter Four- Destiny

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @naniky

#fate #kismet #chance #destiny #coincidence #college au #professor!chis evans x student!reader #professor!chris evans x student!ofc #professor!chris evans #chris evans #chris evans series #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine #christopher evans #christopher robert evans #student!reader #student teacher relationship

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grounders-pounder · 7 years

Text

Sanvers Hogwarts Au

Hey guys, so I wanted to write a Sanvers HP Au for a long time and the intention was to write it and publish it over the summer but finals and life took over. Anyway here it is! Let me know what you think!

October, Sixth.

“Danvers”

“Sawyer”

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Alex turns around and take a look at her team, flying around on their broomsticks.

She turns back towards Maggie and raises an eyebrow, the Hufflepuff's Quidditch captain standing in front of her, broomstick in hand and ready to fly.

“I'm training my team, obviously”

“Obviously,” Maggie says and then continues “there has to be some mistakes because today the field's is mine”

“Sawyer, you must have got it wrong because I got the permission from professor J'onnz ”

“Today is Thursday and Thursday is training day for Hufflepuff”

“Well, clearly today is Slitheryn's training day since I reserved the field myself”

“And just what are we supposed to do right now?”

Alex takes a step towards Maggie and gets into her personal space.

“I don't know about you but I am going to train my team”

Maggie smirks, a sparkle of something in her eyes that Alex recognize well. “Well Danvers, I guess I'll see you around then”

She turns around and walks away. Alex watches her go, following her with every eyes, she can’t help letting her stare drop a bit lower. She licks her lips and gets back to her team.

“Alright,guys! Let's get to work!”

/--------/

Alex lets her hands roams on the body tangled into hers. She pushes back black hair and kisses a neck.

Maggie's smell is intoxicating and it almost makes her forget just how small and uncomfortable the broom closet is. Almost.

“We should really stop making out in the closet like fourteen years old” Alex says. Her lips still on Maggie's.

Maggie chuckles “ You love it Danvers. The sneaking around,trying not to get caught...”

Alex shuts her up with her lips. She starts to leave a trail of wet kisses on Maggie's neck, she stops and sucks on a spot she knows will drive Maggie crazy. The brunette moans and Alex smirks. That always does the trick.

“Don't leave a hickey”

“As the lady wishes”

The keep on making out for what feels like forever – when it actually has only been five minutes- when Alex speaks again, interrupting the delicious work on Maggie's neck.

“What was that thing at the Quidditch's pitch today, by the way?”

Her hands sneaks under Maggie's shirt. She strokes her abs and then goes up.

“That idiot...Matt, no-..Mik- no, Mon-el! He forgot to book the pitch and then forgot to tell me” she rolls her eyes “I swear one day I'm going to kill him”

“ugh... just the sounds of his name is a turn off” Alex backs away from Maggie. Her breath short and her cheeks red. Maggie loves that look on her.

“Hey, you asked.”

“Well, from now on that name is forbidden during make out.” She pecks Maggie on the lips “We have to go anyway, it's almost dinner time”

“Fuck dinner”

“Language” Alex scolds the brunette. “Plus I actually wanna go, all this kissing and moaning made me hungry”

Maggie smirks and put a finger on Alex's belt bringing her closer “I'm hungry too”

Alex lets herself be kissed, just for a few more minute, before going back to pretending they don't know each other. She puts her hands on Maggie's to stop her. “I want real food, Sawyer”

Maggie puffs “Alright, alright. Jesus, you're almost as bad as your sister when it comes to food”

Alex smiles at her and opens to the door. “I take that as a compliment.”

/-------/

January, Fifth Year.

Alex doesn't exactly remember how she ended up on a bed in the infirmary's swing of Hogwarts. All she remembers is getting on her broomstick and being ready to win the match against Hufflepuff and the bludger coming her way and...oh.... so that's why she ended up there.

She tries to concentrate and remember who dared to hit her when the door opens and Maggie Sawyer comes in. She watches as she scans the room searching for something and then, when her eyes lands on her, a smile appearing on her face.

“Danvers, you're alive”

Alex smiles. Despite being both hotheaded – their first meeting wasn't exactly peaceful-, she and Maggie started to became friends easily. The brunette making Alex feels things that no friends had ever made her feel before, but she only admits that to herself.

“Sawyer, I'm well and alive as you can see”

Maggie smirks and walks over to where Alex is resting, stopping at the edge of her bed.

“I agree on the alive part but you don't look so well” her eyes leaves hers and rests on the bump on Alex's forehead which is already swelling down.”You got a nice bump on your forehead”

“Hey, you look like shit too, you know?At least I have an excuse”

Maggie raises an eyebrow,licks her lips and becomes serious “Yeah,well...I was worried”

Alex looks at her, her expression sobering up. “I'm fine. I promise”

“I know,it's just...” Maggie looks away and Alex, suddenly founding courage, takes her hand. “It wasn't pretty watching you fall to the ground” she confesses.

Alex squeezes her hand.,their eyes not leaving each other's. When the air starts to get too heavy the redhead clears her throat.

“So what happened to the match? Did we win?”

Maggie scoffs “You wish” then “We postponed it. We didn't think it would be fair for Slytherin to play without their captain”

Alex rolls her eyes “Typical Hufflepuff” but then she smiles. “Thank you”

“For what?” Maggie asks.

“For checking up on me. For being here”

Maggie smiles, their hands still tangled together. “Anytime, Danvers”

They are interrupted by Kara suddenly bursting through the door like a hurricane. Alex instantly breaking the grip on Maggie's hand.

Neither of them say it but both feel like something is missing.

And days later when Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff Alex doesn't get mad cause the kiss she receives afterwards is a pretty good victory.

/-----/

November, Sixth Year

“...I'm telling you Arithmancy is so much better than Defence Against the Dark Arts!” says Winn.

“That's just because you don't like action that much!”

“That's not right!”

James put down the glass of water “She's kinda right Winn”

Kara nods energetically “See? James agrees with me!”

“Alex doesn't. She likes Arithmancy better. Right Alex?” Winn tries to catch Alex's attention but the redhead is more focused on a certain Hufflepuff behind them.

Maggie is eating and chatting with some of her friends. Her dimples appearing on her face every time she smiles.

“Alex. Alex!” Winn waves her hands in front of her.

“What? What?” She focus her attention on Winn.

“I was saying that Arithmancy is better than Defence Against the Dark, am I right?”

Alex leans over to take a piece of bread “Personally, I like both”

“Arithmancy is so much better!”

“That's because you're not an action kinda guy”

Kara widen her eyes “That's what I said too!”

Winn shakes her head “I can't win with you guys” he mumbles.

They keep eating after that, the tables is filled with laughter and chatters.

Kara leans over Alex “Where were you today?”she asks her sister.

“Where was I?”

“Yeah, I was looking for you but I couldn't find you”

“Oh, I was studying” Alex says quickly. Trying to drop the subject quickly.

Kara swallows another massive bite of food. “With Maggie?”

“Maggie? What..? What does Maggie-”

“I saw you with her while we were coming to the Great Hall”

“Oh, yeah...yeah. I was with her. She needed some help...with...uhm.. something for potions' class”

“Cool, she's nice”

Alex opens her mouth to say something but Lucy's arrival interrupt her. “Who's nice?”

“Maggie” Kara answer.

“Maggie Sawyer?” James asks

Alex and Kara both nods. The older sister suddenly finding her secret girlfriend at the center of the discussion.

“She's a nice girl. Very smart”

“You know her?” Alex asks, faking indifference.

“I do. We met through mutual friends” answers James, taking another spoon of mashed potatoes.

“She's kind. She helps me with my homework sometimes”

“Really?”

“Yup.” Kara shrugs and keep on eating. Alex frowns.

“Wait! Why don't you come to me if you need help?You know I'm always here if you need me”

Kara smiles at her. Her eyes full of love for her big sister “I know but she's in the same house as me. Duh!”

Just like that the Maggie discussion is dropped, Winn inviting Lucy to debate which subject is better once again.

Alex lifts up her eyes from her plate, sensing that someone is seeing her. Sure enough Maggie is looking at her and when their eyes meet she gives her a smile that is answered quickly. She bites her lips and keep on talking with Kara and the rest of her friends.

/------/

The breeze is nice.

Under the shadow of a tree and enjoying their peaceful moment, Maggie rests her head on Alex's shoulder. The redhead hugging her from behind and inhaling the sweet scent of Maggie's shampoo.

“Why didn't you tell me that you help Kara with homework every now and then?”

Maggie shrugs “Must have slipped my mind. Didn't think it was important”

“What? You and my sister interacting? You don't think it's important?”

“Why? It's not like she knows we're together”

Alex huffs. The ease they enjoyed moments before now broken. Maggie senses it and disentangles herself from the hug to look at Alex.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

Alex bite her lips and looks at her girlfriend. “No, you're right. I just-....” she stops, finding herself at loss for words.

Maggie put her hands on her cheek and caress it with her thumb. “Hey” she says when Alex won't meet her eyes “Look at me” when she does she continues “When you're ready you'll tell her. I know it's a big thing and what happened with my parents won't happen to you. Kara is too smart for that and you'll do it when you will be ready.”

“I'm afraid I won't ever be.”

Maggie puts her hands under Alex's chin and bring her face closer to peck her lips. “You will and when you'll tell her I will be there for you”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

Alex takes Maggie's face into her hand and kiss her, trying to put inside of it all the words that get stuck in her throat.

/------/

November. Fifth Year.

She's mad. No. She's furious. Because her mother doesn't seem to appreciate anything she does. She's doing great in school, she's taking all E, she's the prefect for Merlin's sake! Yet for Eliza is all keep Kara safe, help Kara, keep an eye on Kara and she just wants to...

Bump!!.

She finds herself with her ass on the floor. She gets up and searchs for the cause of her fall only to find a Hufflepuff student in front of her.

“Watch where you're going next time, will you?” she says. The girl is bent over, patting her hands on her legs to wipe away the dirt and dust and Alex can only see the back of her head.

“Me?” Alex says looking at the mass of hair “You're the one that bumped into me!!”

The girl lift up her head then and Alex does a double take. Standing in front of her is Maggie Sawyer. Hufflepuff. Fifth year. Quidditch's team captain. She doesn't really know her but she's seen her around and she's the only one who's better than her at potion. Plus she is in Hufflepuff too, same as Kara.

“Nah uh, I don't think so Danvers. You weren't looking at all, it's like you were in your own world or something”

“If you knew I wasn't looking why didn't you avoid bumping into me? “ Alex asks angrily “It's your fault ergo you-”

“sshh” Maggie puts a hand up. Effectively making Alex shut up and narrow her eyes at the same time.

“Oh no, you did not jus-”

“Did you hear that?”

“I..what?”

Maggie turns around to check for the presence of someone...or something , on the hallway.

“Did you hear that sound?”

“What? What sound? Don't try to change the subject-” she is interrupted again.

“Danvers”

“You owe me an apology!!”

“Danvers, shut up!”

“Don't tell me to shut up!”

Maggie, finally getting tired of trying to communicate with Alex, takes her by the shoulders and makes her turn to their right.

In front of them there is a huge door, Maggie is pretty sure she knows what it is but hearing stories of the room and seeing it in person are two different things.

“What is that?” Alex asks. The suspicious in her voice makes Maggie rolls her eyes.

“Don't tell me you never heard of it?”

“No?”

Maggie huffs. Of course perfect prefect Alex Danvers never heard of the Room of Requirement. She takes her by the hand and walks towards to the door.

“C'mon Danvers. Let's take a look”

The room is huge. There is a red couch near the wall, a chimney with a nice fire makes the room warm.

They turn to each other to find they both wear the same expression of amazement.

“And now?” Alex asks.

Maggie walks towards the couch and sit down testing the pillow, when she is finally satisfied she turns toward the Slytherin.

“Well, the room appeared to us for some weird reason, it would be rude not to use it”

Alex's eyes goes from Maggie to the exit trying to decide what to do.

She turns toward the couch only to find Maggie already sprawled on it. She rolls her eyes and mumbles a “Might as well use it”under her breath and walks towards her.

They stay in the room all afternoon that day - only getting out when it's dinner time - talking about everything and nothing.

After that they make a habit of meeting up and spending time together. Everytime the room provides them a nice couch and comfy pillows.

Alex discovers that Maggie is one of the nicest and easiest person to talk to. She tells her about her mother and how much she expects of her, and how tiring it is to always try and be perfect.

Maggie discovers that Alex is so much more than what she imagined. She's brave and brilliant. She tells her about her dream to become an Auror and wanting to make a difference.

The room is the only witness of their hidden glances and shy smiles that mean a little more than just friendship.

/------/

November, Fifth Year

It all happens so fast.

Alex should have known better, she should have known that something was going to happen eventually. It was all too perfect. Most importantly she was happy and if life had taught her something, it was that her happiness didn't last long.

She is walking back to the dungeon when it happens. She hears the yelling first. And then the arguing.

She instantly recognizes the voices, one in particular, and before she knows it, she is running towards the source of the screaming, calling her sister's name “Kara!”

The scene in front of her makes her blood boil and freezes her entire body at the same time. The feeling is not pleasant but the things she will do to the guys in front of her will be far more worse.

Winn is standing defenceless against the wall, in front of him there are three guys. Kara is laying on the ground, holding her head, she is visibly shaken but conscious and Alex takes a breath of relief.

The three Slytherin boys walks towards Winn, cursing against him and saying thinks like 'Mudblood' and other profanities. They raise their wands, ready to hit them again when Alex finally moves.

She raises her own wand and when a loud “Hey!” leaves her mouth they all turns towards her.

She yells out an angry expelliarmus and three wands go flying on the ground. They are looking at her with eyes wide open, trying to anticipate their next moves, but they can't. The things is neither can she. She doesn't really knows what happens next, all she can recalls is taking another look at Kara and rage swallowing her.

She remembers the blood on her hands, and then someone calling her name, Kara and...someone else?

“Alex!Alex! Stop”

“Danvers! Danvers!”

The screaming overlap each other.

She then finds tanned arms around her waist, trying to lift her off from the body beneath her.

“Danvers!...Alex!” she turns around. Maggie is standing in front of her. A worried expression on her face, she distantly sees Winn and Kara, holding onto each other.

“Look at me Alex” brown meets brown “Take a breath and calm down” Maggie says.

Alex close her eyes and try to do as she is told. “That bitch broke my nose!”

Alex and Maggie look at the guy on the ground, -the other two now lost- he is holding his nose, stains of blood on his shirt.

Alex starts to walk towards him once again but is stopped by Maggie's hand on her arm.

“Go away” the older Hufflepuff orders “Now!” she adds when the kid won't move.

He scramble off the ground and runs off, disappearing in the shadow. Alex instantly goes to check on Kara.

“Hey, you alright?” she asks, searching with her eyes for any kind of injury.

Kara nods, hugging her sister. “I'm fine Alex”

Alex doesn't really seem to believe her but nods anyway and turns to Winn “And you? You okay?”

“I...yeah. I'm okay too”

“Okay...good...that's good. Let's go. I'll walk with you to your dorm room” Alex says putting a hand on Kara's back.

She turns toward Maggie before walking away. “Thanks Sawyer”

The brunette lift an eyebrow, she notices sometimes illegible in Alex's eyes but nods anyway.

“Anytime Danvers”

She watches them walk away. The redhead putting an arm on her sister's shoulder, keeping her close.

She sighs, turn around and walk away.

/----------/

That same night Alex leaves Maggie a note to meet up on the Astronomy Tower. When she reaches the place she finds the Slytherin walking back and forth. An unreadable look on her face.

“Hey” she says.

Alex, not having heard her arriving, turns around a little startled. She gives her a half smile “Hey”

“How's Kar-”

“She’s fine. A little bit shaken but fine”

Maggie nods “That’s good”

There’s a moment of silence after that. Maggie notices that Alex won’t meet her eyes and the brunette grows worried at the odd behaviour so she decides to speak up.

“So..what did yo-“

“I think we should break up.” Alex interrupts her. It feels like she dropped a weight from her shoulders to her heart. But she needs to do this.

Maggie blinks her eyes. Once. Twice. Not believing what she just heard.

“What?”

“I can't...I can't be with you....anymore. I can't be with you anymore.” she repeats once again, maybe to convince herself that this is the right choice”

“Ale-”

“I gotta take care of Kara. I’m…I was…What happened today made me see that-...I got too distracted, I was living in our bubble and what happened to Kara can't happen again so...” Alex's eyes won't leave the ground “I think we should break up”

“Alex...”

“Maggie, please” she pleads. Her voice shaking. “ I need to take care of her”

Maggie's eyes now wet with tears that refuse to fall “Okay,well...” she clears her throat “I guess I'll see you around Danvers”

She walks away without turning back and waits until she is back in her bed to let the tear fall.

/-----------/

February, Fifth Year.

Alex always loved the library. It was one of her favourite place in the castle. It was quite,cozy and smelled like books. She loved books. And Maggie. Which was one of the reason why the library was her perfect place. She could hold and kiss Maggie whenever she wanted. Sure they had to be careful of other students and they always had to be quite which was torture but Alex loved every moment she got to hold Maggie.

She puts her arms around Maggie's waist, the shorter girl rising on her tip toe to reach a book, Alex smiles on her shoulder and then proceeds to bit it.

Maggie lets out a low “Alex” to stop the girl in question from doing something that might not be appropriate for a public place.

“What?” the redhead asks innocently.

Maggie turns around and faces her. “You know what. Last time we almost got caught”

“So? We'll be very careful this time” she starts by giving her neck little wet kisses.

The Hufflepuff stops her but grants her a peck. “I don't want to risk being expelled from the library or having my house lose points just because my girlfriend couldn't wait to get into my pants”

Alex stop her administration to look at her “Girlfriend?”

“Well...yeah. I just thought...”Maggie shrugs her shoulders, suddenly feeling shy “Nevermind”

“No,I just...didn't really think...” she clears her throat. A huge smile growing on her face “ and since when have we been girlfriend?”

“Since that day Slytherin lost and we kissed after the match”

“You mean when I kissed you?” Alex smirks

Maggie waves her hand in front Alex's face “Whatever”

/------/

December, Fifth Year.

Two week had passed since the break up and Alex hadn't felt so lonely in a long time. She couldn't even talk about it with anyone which made it worst.

To take her minds off of her now ex-girlfriend, she agreed to help Kara go Christmas Shopping, or better Hanukkah shopping .

Which is how she found herself visiting every kind of shops in Hogsmeade.

The 'crunch' of their steps on the snow is the only sounds,beside Kara blabbering, that fills their afternoon.

After what feels like eternity, Kara is finally happy with her purchase, with two bags for each hand they decide to grab a warm drink at The Three Broomsticks. Alex internally takes a sigh of relief, as much as she loves her sister, shopping is something she could only handle for a hour.

They decide to sit at a table near the window, the snow falling creating a beautiful scenes. They both order a drink, Alex a butterbeer and Kara a gillywater, and finally start to warm up.

“I'm so happy, Alex!” Kara face is radiating happiness. “I got the present for all of our friends. Now I only need to buy yours!”

Alex shakes her heads after taking a sip of her drink “You don't need to get me anything Kara”

Needless to say Kara looks like someone just slapped her and killed her puppy at the same time. “Alex!” she starts “Everyone need to have a present. It's tradition. You can't break tradition!!”

Alex just shrugs. She's not really feeling the holiday spirit this year.

“C'mon” Kara says “There must be something you really want...” Kara says taking her hand.

“I...” Alex try to speak but suddenly she sees something with the corner of her eye.

Maggie has just walked past their window to enter the pub. She has a scarf around her neck and a grey beanie that makes her look adorable. Alex bits her lip and she is almost out of her seat, ready to go say hi to her, ignoring everything that happened between them and Kara sitting at the table, when she sees that the Hufflepuff is not alone.

Behind an obviously cold Maggie, is standing Kate Kane. Red flaming hair framing her face, she has a scarf around her neck, same as Maggie, only her colour are silver and green.

The duo is making their way to a booth, apparently not having seen them.

Alex stars to feel a weird burn in her stomach. She knows what it is but she also know that, despite Maggie and Kate's history – Kate being Maggie's first real girlfriend – the two of them are just friend. Maggie had always told her that Kate was one her closest friend before and after their break up. The sudden reminder that she has no right to be jealous, not anymore, makes her sigh and turns back towards her sister.

Kara lift an eyebrow at Alex. She saw who her sister was looking at and even if she doesn't say anything she know something is up with Alex. She is also starting to think that it may have something to do with Maggie but now is not the time to say anything. She hates seeing her sister like this but she also knows that Alex will tell her everything she needs to know on her own time.

“So?” she asks.

Alex looks at her confused. “So what?”

“Have you thought about what you want?”

“Mhhh. A book or a new scarf. Some new Quidditch's gear would be perfect but seriously Kara, whatever you will get me will be perfect.”

Kara scoffs “You just have to say that because I am your sister”

Alex smiles “Duh”

On the other side of the pub a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin are enjoying their first sip of warm butterbeer.

Maggie puts her hands around the glass, trying to warm them, a look of contemplation on her face, she feels Kate watching her. The redhead had never seen Maggie Sawyer so uncharacteristically quiet. Usually the brunette is always loud and outspoken.

“So...are you finally ready to tell me what is going on with that Danver girl over there?”

Maggie looks up from the drink in front of her and look at Kate, who is waiting for an answer with an eyebrow raised up.

“What?”

“Oh you know what Maggie, don't play dumb with me. I'm too smart for that bullshit”

Maggie sighs, her eyes searching for Alex's in the middle of the crowded bar. When they finally meet Alex give her a little smile but Maggie just nods and turns back towards her friend, not seeing the look of disappointment on Alex's face.

“What do you want me to say? She dumped me.”

“And the reason why is?”

“I don't know”

Kate douse a double take. “Sorry?”

“I said I do-”

“I heard what you said but it was so stupid I thought you were joking.” Kate lets out a laugh. “You're telling me that that Slytherin girl broke up with you without telling you why?”

“I...Yes?”

Kate hands fly to slap Maggie on the shoulder. “Ow” she rubs her shoulder “Why did you do that?”

“To see if the Maggie Sawyer I know is still in there”

Maggie rolls her eyes. “That's not funny”

“It is pretty funny” Kate nods, proud of herself”

Maggie shakes her head, her focus once again moving to the table that is now filled with four other people.

“Listen” she says focusing back on Kate “Why does the reason matter? Uh? She did it and I don't want to think about it, I just want to get drunk with my best friend, is that too much too ask? Or you suddenly want to fill the relationship guru position I didn't know I needed in my life?”

Kate smirks,now she recognizes her Maggie.

“Alright, Sawyer. How about we start with two Firewhiskey?”

Maggie smiles,the first real smile since the break up. She knew that going out with Kate was the best way to cheer herself up. “Now you're talking”

“Good” says Kate and then takes her hand “But remember that I'm always here for you Sawyer.”

Maggie squeezes her hand. A smile of gratitude on her face “I know, Kate”

Neither of them notices a pair of brown eyes watching them intensively.

/--------/

December, Fifth Year

Despite the look, being blonde and pretty, Kara Danvers is no stupid girl. She likes to think that she is smart, clever and intuitive, especially about people, especially when it's about her sister.

So she knows Alex has been feeling down lately and she also knows it has something to do with Maggie.

She has also been watching Maggie lately and the brunette didn't look so good either. Not being her usual self and not walking around with a playful smirk on her face.

Now Kara does not know what really happened between them but it would be a bummer for her to have to stop liking Maggie because of something that happened between her and her sister.

She wants to know what is going on but at the same time she doesn't because that would mean forcing her sister to talk and that's not a right thing to do.

Fortunately Alex herself comes to her and just pours out her heart.

“Kara, there you are” Alex says some day later, entering the library. Kara, looking up from her books of History of Magic, takes a look at her, eyes open wide and messy hair.

“Here I am. What's up?” she asks. Pausing her homework.

Alex bits her lips. “I need to talk to you. Outside” she then adds, scanning the library.

Kara, taken aback, opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out of it, effectively making her look like a fish. She shakes her head “I...yeah,” she looks at the table and starts to collects her things “Lemme just..get my things and we can go, okay?” she asks not looking up.

Alex's face looks like it's about to explode. “Yeah!Yeah...you...you do that, I'll meet you outside” she say, waving her hand around and not waiting for Kara's answer.

When Kara reaches her outside, the cold air instantly colliding with her face, she finds her pacing back and forth in the snow. Apparently not caring about the cold or not noting it at all, Alex is murmuring things to herself, waving her hands around and try to clear up her mind. When she finally sees Kara approaching she takes a big breath and start. “I need to tell you something”

“I'm listening...”

Alex absently and starts, or try to “You know that lately I've been...not myself right? You must've noticed, you are my sister after all” she say the last part more to herself than to Kara “Well there is a reason...and I just...I'm trying to figure it all out but it's all so messed up because I messed it up. I should have known, I should have told you sooner and I shouldn't ha-”

“Alex,does all that have something to do with Maggie?” Kara tries to make it easier. Alex never rambles like that.

The Slytherin girl stops “I..yes. Yes it does” she point a finger at Kara “Everything has to do with Maggie. We...were together...and then I fucked it all up...and...and....I'm gay Kara.” she sigh heavily “I'm gay” she repeats after. Her eyes wet with tears finally meets her sisters.

“Oh Alex” Kara walks over to Alex and hugs her. They stay in each other's arms for awhile until Alex pulls back and dry her tears with the sleeve of her coat.

Kara just watches her, she knows it's a delicate moment and she knows she is probably the first person Alex told about herself – besides Maggie – so she wants to make it right.

“I kind of...” she tries to find the most fitting word “Suspected for awhile”

Alex snuffles, her eyes red and wet “How? I mean we were really careful”

“It really wasn't that hard actually. You've been moping around a lot after...” Kara stops herself for a second and tilts her head to her right like a puppy “ I don't exactly know what happened but I guess you had a fight? Well after that, plus Maggie is the top of the class at Potions, I really don't think she needed all the help you kept offering her...”

Alex lets out a little laugh. “ I guess I should've thought of something better to say.”

Kara hugs her again. “It doesn't matter now.” she starts walking back to the castle with an arm around her older sister “ Now we need to focus on getting you two back together”

Alex sniffles, she is glad that she got Kara as a sister.

“Oh and Alex?”

“Yes?”

“I love you”

Alex smiles “I love you too Kara”

/-------/

After the talk with Kara, Alex feels ready. Ready to start fresh and to talk to Maggie.

There was only one small problem. She couldn't seem to find the right tempo to approach her.

Alex had to admit it, it was more difficult than she first thought. Maggie always seemed to run somewhere and it didn't help that Kara, either, hadn't seen her all that much in their common room.

Now Alex Danvers is not stupid, she knows when someone is avoiding her. Even though Maggie had every right to do so, it was getting kinda hard to fix things when the other part of the now ended relationship - Alex thought bitterly - was unreachable.

But Alex Danvers is also very stubborn. So when she sees Maggie entering the dining hall with all the other hungry students she knows she has to reach out for her. This is her moment, this is her chance, Maggie is just a few steps away. She just need to stretch her arm and...

“Danvers”

Apparently this is not her moment. Alex turns around, she knows that voice and its the last one she expects to hear.

“Kane.” her voice comes out as a snarl. “To what do I own the pleasure?” she says sarcastically.

The redhead – the other redhead – smirks. “It came to my attention that you and I never had a little chat”

Alex looks back only to find that Maggie had disappeared into the crowd.

Great, she thinks sarcastically.

“What do you want?”

Kate lift a perfectly shaped eyebrow and licks her lips and even Alex has to admit that Kate is indeed a beautiful woman.

“I'll go straight to the point with you Danvers. What you did to Maggie was shitty and the only reason I'm not punching you right now is because she made me swear not to.” Alex tries to open her mouth but she is instantly stopped by a finger pointed right at her face. “Uh, uh. I'm talking now so shut your mouth for a minute.”

Kate makes sure that Alex is quiet then she continues “Good. Now I love Maggie...” Alex growls “ as a friend. For Merlin's sake” she adds under her breath. “ So I hate to see her like this and now you have to make it right.”

Alex puts her hand up. “ That's what I've been trying to do!” she huffs “But every time I try to talk she just...vanishes. It's like she's been avoiding me which I get but-”

“Danvers” Kate interrupts her “Have you tried thinking that she may have been busy? She has a lot of works to do these; she's been helping a few kids with Potions, plus she has prefect duty and now there is even the Quidditch match and then....”

Kate's words feels far away, Alex is more focused on this huge feeling of pride. She is so proud of Maggie that her body seems to burst with the need to hug the girl. The Hufflepuff is generous and caring and each time there is someone to help she does not hesitate.

She rewind the few moments that have passed and widens her eyes.

“Wait!” Kate stops and stares at her as if she's crazy.

“Did you just say Quidditch match?”

“I...yes?” Kate seems more confused than ever.

“Fuck!” yells Alex “Fuck, I forgot! But I think I know how to make it right!” she walks past Kate and gives her a slap on her shoulder. “Thanks, Kane”

“You're welcome?”

/------------/

The stadium is buzzing with people full of energy, ready to defeat the cold and to cheer for their team.

She thinks she recognizes Kara's figure in the crowd, her Hufflepuff's scarf and the Slytherin one Alex gave her are both around her neck so she can “cheer for both team equally”. Kara is such a Hufflepuff sometimes.

The Slytherin captain shakes her head and tries to focus, not only this is an important match but she also needs to make things right with Maggie.

The girl in question is standing on the Quidditch's field, talking to one of her teammate, focused on explaining what Alex think could be the tactic for the upcoming match.

The redhead walks towards them and when she is just a few feet apart she calls out “Hey, Maggie”

The Hufflepuff says something that Alex doesn't understand to the other girl, who walks away, and then turns around.

“Danvers, what can I do for ya?” her tone is not harsh or anything but Alex notices that now it lacks the usual warm inclination that Maggie usually used with her.

“I...just wanted to talk” Alex looks at her, the sound of the cheering crowd and everything that surround them slowly fading away.

Maggie sighs “You have two minutes” she concedes.

“Okay.” Alex clears her throat “I know I fucked up and there is really no excuse for how I treated you. It's just...” she puts a hand on her hair and close her eyes for just a second. She knows Maggie is watching her but she needs to focus and to get the right words out of her mouth. “It's just, I thought that what happened with Kara was my fault because I was too distracted being happy that I forgot to take care of her”

Maggie tries to say something but Alex promptly stops her. “You said two minutes! I still have one minute and twenty seconds left”

Maggie shakes her head but Alex see a little smiles forming on her face. “Now, I know that what happened to Kara would have happened whether I was with you or not and I'm really sorry about the way I acted afterwards, but when I came out to Kara all I could think about was wanting to have you there and tell you all about it and I realized that I want to do all of those cliches things with: have dinner with my mom, going out with all our friends, I want to be happy with you...”

Alex takes a few steps forwards, her eyes are wet with tears, she is vulnerable, pouring all her feelings out for Maggie.

“...if you still want to be with me. If you are willing to give me a second chance.”

Maggie takes her lip between her teeth, contemplating her next move. Her eyes are wet too.

“You came out to Kara?”she asks in a little voice.

Alex lets out a little laugh. “Yeah...you were right, she was great.”

Maggie chuckles. “I'm always right”

“So what do you say? Can we try this again?”

The atmosphere becomes serious once again . Alex holds her breath, waiting to hear Maggie's next words.

“You get one, Alex” she says at the end.

Alex exhales loudly and smiles. She takes Maggie in her arms and holds her. She feels her hug her back. She takes in everything that is Maggie. She wants to cry, she almost started to forget how it felt like having her in her arms. “Thank you” she says over her shoulder.

They break the hug only to look into each others eyes. Maggie wipe Alex's tears with her thumb. “Let's go, I still need to kick your ass.” she starts to walk away.

Alex puts a hand on her arms. “Wait” Maggie turns back around. She feels Alex's hand on both side of her face and then warm and soft lips connecting with hers. She closes her eyes and lets herself be lulled into the kiss. She missed Alex more than she expected.

They are so lost into their world that they forgot about the rest of it. The stadium that had gone silent, was now bursting with cheers and yells from both Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

They stop kissing startled by the loud sound. Alex hands still on Maggie's face.

“Hey!” James yells from the middle of the pitch, waving his arms to catch their attention “I'm really happy for you guys but we have a match to win so if you don't mind we would like to start”

Alex and Maggie smile and walk toward James hand in hand. It doesn't matter how the match will end because they already won.

a.n.:english is not my first language guys so please be kind. For awhile I thought about not publishing this fic because I was not a hundred percent satisfied with the final result but then again I guess I wll never be so I decided to do it anywa. :)

#sanvers #sanvers fic #supergirl #my writing #my fic #sanvers au #not sure how i feel about this #but I hope you enjoy it

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d3ndroica · 7 years

Text

In which Gale and Madge act like they hate each other

Gale was trying to sort through the most recent emails before his hours at the reference desk when Sam flew through the doorway and collapsed into the chair across the desk. "You're here. Thank all that is holy. Delly came down with that daycare virus, got it from Jonah I swear that kid is carrying every germ known to man. Anyway, I desperately need to go home early. Which means the meeting about the medieval death stats is going to be postponed." She paused to catch her breath.

Gale chuckled knowingly. "My niece is always bringing home bugs."

With a tired nod Sam continued, "… but I'm on the schedule for the job candidate. I have the late afternoon slot, just taking her to the gallery reception, so that's no big deal, and then dinner. So - can you cover for me? I asked Sae but she's busy and I can't get ahold of Boggs to save my life."

Just when he thought he'd gotten out of any involvement in the departmental search."What about Gina? Isn't she heading the search committee?” Gale asked.

"She had that meeting with the provost today; I haven't been able to reach her either. I left her a message, so maybe? I was supposed to take her over to the reception, you'd just have to take her over there. I really just need to get home and I can't go if this stupid dinner isn't covered, you know Boggs would have my ass …" She bit her lip to stop the flow of words and stared at him with wide eyes.

Gale's brow furrowed. "Let me check my schedule..." He sighed, bringing up his electronic calendar as a delaying tactic. He stared at the screen as he wavered between helping or not. His calendar showed the reception as one of the library calendar events. The length of its title in the calendar meant he would have had to actually click through to find out what it was actually for. He didn't bother, though. There were so many events and receptions at the campus gallery that even though he was supposed to attend about one per month, nobody ever commented on his chronic absence. Only a couple people knew why he avoided the gallery and he wanted to keep it that way.

There was one thing on his personal calendar for the evening. Going through the motions only confirmed what Gale already knew - he was supposed to meet his friend Thom for a movie, but he would bet Thom hadn't gotten tickets yet. Unfortunately for him, Samantha had perfected that helpless pleading look of a desperate mom and was using it now. He could postpone with Thom, or maybe just go to a later show.

“Please??” Samantha pleaded.

With a sigh, Gale answered, "fine. But you owe me."

Her face brightened instantly. “Big time. Thanks Gale! You have the interview schedule right? It's in the email chain. I was supposed to meet her at Sae’s office at 4, and there's a dinner reservation at the Mockingjay Tavern for 6:00.” She was already halfway to the door before the words were out of her mouth.

"Just let Sae know," Gale called uselessly after her. He sighed, guessing she was too distracted. Turning back to his keyboard he fired off a quick email to the Library Director and a text to Thom.

After his shift at the reference desk, Gale returned to his office. He busied himself preparing an annotated bibliography for a bioethics professor on the recent legislation and judicial decisions involving muttations. As he worked to finish his day's work, he kept an eye on the clock as it slipped toward 4:00. It wasn't until 3:45 that he remembered to check the calendar for information on the reception. Seeing the details he cursed, more loudly than was appropriate in the office. Thankfully he'd shut his door earlier so he could focus. He looked at the clock, swearing again as he saw it was too late to change things. Annoyed, he shut down his machine and began packing up for the day.

He arrived at Director Sae's office closer to 4:10 than 4:00, late but not inexcusably so. The door to the office was ajar. It was clear from the voices audible through the door that Sae was dominating the conversation as usual. Stepping into the office with a cursory knock, Gale glanced at the woman standing near the closest chair, taking in her business dress, voluminous afro, and the other details of her appearance.

Sae's raspy drawl greeted him. “Hawthorne, good of you to join us. I was just about to call down to your office. Miss Jackson, here is the illustrious Gale Hawthorne.” Gale reached across to briefly shake the woman's hand at the introduction, immediately recognizing the guarded look behind her gaze. She opened her mouth but was cut off as Sae continued, “Miss Jackson and I were just discussing the wonderful work our library is doing in support of the Mellark Arts Initiative.” Gale managed to school his expression and keep a straight face. “Did you know that she is quite the Mellark afficionado? Well I'm delighted she's here today. The reception should be quite something. I wish I could accompany you, but unfortunately I've got a board meeting I must get to. I'm sure the two of you will have a far more enjoyable time than I.” She pushed her chair back from the desk, straightening her suit jacket.

Gale was not convinced.

Before Gale could come up with a suitable answer, the young woman broke in. “Thank you, director. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can continue our discussion another time.' Turning to Gale she continued, “Shall we go?”

Gale nodded assent. She shrugged on a stylish coat and swept up her things. Sae stood and said to her, “Well that's just fine, it was riveting, Miss Jackson. I hope you enjoy your evening.” Accepting Sae’s handshake, Miss Jackson followed Gale from the office. In moments she was trailing him down the stair to the front doors of the south wing. The staccato beat of her heeled boots chased Gale out the doors and into the grassy quad. Above the buildings on the far side of the grass, the sun was getting low. It's bright blaze and the surrounding blue sky made the cold air somehow feel harsher. Gale zipped his jacket and turned to Miss Jackson. She was knotting a burgundy woven scarf around her neck.

Gale waited in silence. Now that he was out of Dr. Sae’s office, he was in no rush. She pulled a folded paper from her coat pocket and consulted it.

“Do you have a car?” he asked.

She looked up and took a minute to answer. “It's at the campus conference center where I'm staying. Can we walk to the reception?”

Gale nodded and tilted his head toward the museum. “This way.”

“Great. It's a beautiful campus and I'd really like to stretch my legs a bit after all the meetings today. I've scarcely left the library all day. Oh, but please skip any campus tour rigmarole, I'd really prefer to just explore on my own sometime,” Marian answered.

Being the last person on campus anyone who knew him would ask for a tour, Gale could almost laugh. “No rigmarole,” Gale agreed. Pointing them down a walking path that cut North through campus, Gale added, “The all-day interviews are rough. But you're done with the hard part.” Assuming of course, that he could keep his shit together for the next few hours. He shook his head to clear the cloudy thoughts and remind himself again that he was not going to let the past steal the future.

“Thanks,” Marian sighed, unaware of his issues. “I've been talking shop all day and I've had people trying to sell me on this job and this campus since I handed my car keys to the hotel valet. I'd prefer a break from all that.” Gale nodded in understanding and asked when she'd arrived, starting a string of small talk that carried them to the museum.

From the outside, the museum itself was a plain utilitarian brick structure. Gale held the door for Marian to walk through. She paused just inside the door, gazing around the foyer as she unwrapped her scarf. Gale waited patiently as Marian stopped at the coat check to lighten her load while she browsed the museum.

The stairs down to the large central gallery were busy with attendees - bohemian-styled art students, older well-meaning alumni, and an assortment of college staff and faculty. The gallery at the base of the stairs was humming with activity and a dozen muted conversations of people clustered around the exhibits. These seemed beyond anything he'd had to deal with before. Essentially, he was looking into a room of unwearable clothes.

“Annual Apparel and Textile Design Fashion Show,” blared the banners to either side of the staircase, along with “Sponsored by the Mellarke Initiative.” Gale had no interest in art, let alone anything connected to fashion, which seemed like an utter waste of energy and resources. The fact that it was all sponsored by the Initiative obviously didn't help things.

Miss Jackson stood near the base of the stairs, struck by the scene, but apparently not how Gale had been. “Have you worked with the Initiative?”

“No,” was his terse reply.

Marian seemed to be too caught up in her own world to notice his discomfort. “Oh, Right, I suppose there's not much overlap in your field. Everything always seems to be interconnected in the arts world. And at a school like this I just assumed everyone has ties to such a prominent group. I've been so impressed with their programs. Are you familiar with them?”

“Who isn't?” Gale asked, putting all his mental energies into the thought, Do not ask me about this. He could almost feel her curiosity drilling into him; though it was probably just her enthusiasm spilling over, he needed a defense.

He pulled a shiny brochure with a museum map from a display on the wall and pushed it into her hands. “What do you want to see?” he asked, gesturing to the slightly crumpled high gloss paper.

Marian bit her lip for a moment. “Would you mind terribly if we went through some of the galleries?” she asked. “I've read so much about the permanent collections it would be a shame if I didn't see at least some of it. Of course it must not be your first choice as you can see it whenever you like, but it looks like there's time.”

Gale nodded his assent. The less time he had to spend at this so-called reception, the better. Even the Mellarke galleries would be preferable, which was saying something. Feeling slightly encouraged, he said, “Where to?”

As she consulted the map, she suggested, “I think I'd like to start in gallery seven, and then we can continue through the south galleries before returning to the reception hall?”

He gestured toward a doorway on the left. “You go ahead. I can get us drinks, if you'd like something?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” she answered, glancing between the entry he'd pointed her toward, and the paper map in her hand. She began to turn away.

Swallowing his frustration, Gale quickly prompted her, “What can I get you?” He was anxious to escape to the bar and regroup.

“Oh, wine? Red, please,” she answered distractedly, as she headed off toward the galleries.

Torn between annoyance and relief, Gale hurried to the bar area set up for the reception, a safe distance from the “fashion” exhibits. Glasses of red and white wine were arrayed in near rows on the white linens covering the bar counter. Gale nodded to the idle bartender, a chubby student earning some cash from a student job. “Whiskey neat, and a tonic if you have it. No ice, please.” He scanned the reception room for any familiar faces while he waited. When the whiskey came he tossed it back and returned the glass on the counter, exchanging it for the tall glass of bubbly soda and the closest glass of red wine. Taking a deep breath, he strode back toward gallery 7 and Miss Jackson. On his way he entertained the vain idea of skipping out on his charge now, making a run for it. She would probably be better off without him, anyway. Perhaps he could find a good story for a long delay …

But Gale had never been good at skipping out on personal responsibilities once he'd accepted them. Perhaps given strength by the whiskey, he continued on and found her in front of what what probably the fourth artwork along the gallery 7 wall, taking in an oil painting of a beach sunset. He glanced at it and then away, searching his feelings and finding emptiness. Wordlessly he handed her the wine, and stepped out of her line of sight.

For the remainder of gallery 7 and gallery 8, he stayed vaguely near her, staring through each painting and letting the colors blur until she was ready to move on to the next, making half-agreeable noises when she commented on something. He managed to answer a few questions of hers, with mostly monosyllabic answers. The south galleries were not crowded and he was pleasantly surprised to find the pace she set through the galleries pretty tolerable, though he was tightly wound by the time they reached gallery 9.

Gallery 9 was currently stocked with various works from students of the Mellarke Initiative. Miss Jackson had already begun inspecting a series of photographs on the close wall, while the center aisle of the room housed a series of metallic sculptures by student artist "O" which seemed to Gale like something only a student would do. There were only a few other people in the room. There was an entry to the reception hall on the far side of the room, and the noise of the crowd drifted in from the main hall, but it was muted. Gale sipped his tonic and willed himself to relax.

A few louder voices carried through the doorway from the main hall. "... shows a lot of promise," boomed a male voice over the din of the reception-goers. Marian turned toward the doorway, glass at her lips, then seemed to freeze without taking a sip of her wine. Gale lifted an eyebrow and turned to follow her gaze – to a group of VIPs entering the gallery, including the very person he had hoped to avoid. His mouth set in a grim line. Just the sight the trio made him feel surly.

“Her work really speaks to the challenges she has overcome,” the tall well-muscled man in the center intoned, as he led the other two to one of the sculptures. For a moment, Gale thought perhaps there was still a chance for escape. He could turn and walk away and that would be the end of it.

Then, in the corner of his eye, he saw Marian take a step forward, gaping and drawing the attention of the trio. The woman on the left looked past Marian and saw him, and her brow wrinkled.

The man, who wore a nondescript gray sweater (which did not entirely cover the tattoos creeping up his neck) gave them a broad generic smile. “Welcome. I hope you're enjoying the District College galleries.”

The blonde woman stifled a snort. If Gale had the remotest interest in fashion he would have identified her outfit as a backless sweater dress in teal with navy leggings and gold ballet-inspired flats. But as Gale didn’t have the slightest inkling of these things, he merely saw the color selected to bring out the blue in her eyes and unconsciously registered the confidence with which she moved. She was drinking white wine.

To her left stood her close ally, a woman who though indifferent to the fashions of the day had learned how even clothes could be used to manipulate an audience. This event, apparently, warranted no special interventions as she dressed plainly in layers of dark v-necks and a hint of a delicate gold necklace at the neckline, over brown tailored pants and boots. Gale primarily registered, with little surprise, her scowl. “He works on campus,” Katniss mumbled, drawing Gale’s gaze before he turned back to the tall man. Gale answered flatly, “Gale Hawthorne. Research librarian.”

There was a momentary pause. No one seemed to know what came next. Marian took a noticeable sip of her wine.

“Why are you here?” Katniss blurted uncomfortably.

He saw Marian move and cut in before she could provide an inevitably clueless reply. “Miss Jackson is considering joining our humble ranks here at the College,” he answered with a nod.

"Marian," she interjected, excitement winning out over bewilderment. She shook hands with Katniss and added, "I'm so pleased to be here. The Initiative is such a force for good, and it's incredible to be here and see some of the work it's supported. Thank you for having me." Katniss' left eyebrow shot up as she looked with no small bit of incredulity between Marian and Gale. Then Marian shook hands with the man, who introduced himself as Lincoln Trigedakru.

Gale's frown was still firmly in place as Marian stepped back. He took a step toward her and added, a bit redundantly, “Miss Jackson is interviewing at the library.” Feeling cross, he wondered what time it was, anyway. A discrete glance at his communicuff told him that dinner was still too far off for his liking.

“Ahh,” the man intoned. “Yes of course. Odair's position. We were sorry to see him go. Welcome - Miss Jackson is it? Dr. Coin said you would be here, but I had understood that our dear Samantha would be accompanying you? In fact, I sent her a message this afternoon. I wanted to let her know about some schedule changes for the evening - “

“Something came up,” Gale cut him off flatly. “And we're leaving soon for dinner.”

“Ahh, what a pity. Well welcome, both of you.” His smile faltered a moment when he looked to Gale. Directing his words to the women, he recovered, saying, “And to return to the subject at hand, you'll see that despite the intrinsic violence depicted in these sculptures, the lines suggest a graceful efficiency and purpose, incredibly well balanced for a student. I have to say, O is one of our rising stars.”

Marian interjected, “The balance of this one struck me,” as she stepped toward a sculpted mass. “The way it captures a sense of movement, I feel almost as though it is reaching forward. It's deceptive. Her work reminds me of Indra Woods.”

She was incorporated into their conversation, just like that. Gale looked skeptically on the abstract sculptures and rolled his eyes (no one looked at him anyway). Violence he saw, or at least something angular and discomfiting in each. Beyond that, his disinterest would not entertain impractical musings on some kid's art project. He stepped to the far side of Miss Jackson and pretended to look at one of the photographs on the wall, but found he could not tune out their conversation completely. It was primarily between Marian and the man, Lincoln. They discussed the sculptures and some more general things about the Initiative. When Lincoln asked what she thought of the special exhibit, she admitted her ignorance.

“… I hope I'll have many more opportunities, but I couldn't pass it up. Mister Hawthorne was kind enough to bring me to see some of the permanent collection before we browsed the special exhibit. Some of this student work is first-rate, though. I'm sure the other exhibits are equally impressive.”

Marian's response drew another indelicate snort from the blonde in the group. “I'm sure he was only looking out for your interests,” The barbs on the sculptures had nothing on the words of Madge Undersee. “But come, you mustn't miss the show.”

Gale trailed Marian and her new acquaintances out to the main exhibit hall, taking his time. As they stopped in front of one of the fashion show pieces, Gale veered away to one of the reception's bars. Too fast his hands were full of glasses again, red wine in one and tonic water in the other, and resignedly he spotted Marian with the others where they were approaching a particularly gaudy piece. The dress in question, if you could call it that, seemed massively misproportioned, as though it had been warped in a funhouse mirror. Perhaps it even contained a funhouse mirror; from a distance it glittered and shone, but as Gale handed the red wine to Marian he saw that the reflected light came from shards of glass and bits of metal razor wire. Gale drew back reflexively. A small placard at the hem of the dress gave its title, Tribute, and the names of two designers. Marian turned her head to acknowledge Gale and nod her thanks, but continued to examine the “fashion.”

“Tell me, what do you think of this one? Isn't it stunning,” Madge was quizzing Marian.

“Wow, it certainly sends a message,” Marian answered agreeably. Peering at the glimmering neckline she added, “There's some painstaking detail in this piece.”

Gale thought, She's got the pain part right.

“The weaponization of fashion. It's the dual nature that embodies it with such power ...” Lincoln begins.

“There's such a complexity to it,” Madge adds with approval, “I see something more to it every time I see it.”

“Maybe it's for sale,” Gale interjected coldly. “Or perhaps the artist can make you your very own to wear to your next big gala to commend yourself to the elites.”

“Brilliant, I'll do that,” Madge sniped. “Maybe that audience will have the wit to get the message and the good humor to appreciate it. “

Lincoln added helpfully, “I dare say it captures some historical truths.”

“I can't imagine designing something like this,” laughed Marian. “I'd be afraid to even touch it.”

“At least you have some sense,” Gale muttered.

Madge rolled her eyes and mused, “Think of it as a decorative weapon if you must, commemorating the war. These students have a lot to say about Panem’s past.” At the same time, Gale felt his communicuff buzz with an alert. Automatically he tapped it to silence.

“Right,” Gale spat. “What better to memorialize brutal tyranny and civil war.”

“Why so bothered by a broken mirror sewn into a dress, commander? At least you can see this danger coming.” Madge volleyed back. He saw that she was egging him on, like it was a game. A reminder he did not belong here.

He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “I already know you’re trouble, Undersee. You don’t need to advertise it with a pretty dress.”

“It's a free country now, Gale, Even fashion designers get to have a voice now.” With that Madge pressed her lips together in a determined smile.

Fashion. Was this what they had fought for? He was about to respond. The words were on the tip of his tongue when Katniss' glare stopped him. Katniss always had been ready to leap to the blonde's defense. Instead he just muttered, “You’d know, Princess.” He shook his wrist absently, remembering the communicuff notification.

He half lifted his arm in a gesture meant to let him step away to deal with whatever the incoming message was. I gotta get out of here, he thought. He stepped away, far enough to block out the ongoing conversation.

Gale walked away from the group with fingers navigating quickly through the interface, as Marian said something that didn’t quite register.

“You’d think all librarians would be so open minded,” Madge carped, but Gale had already shut her out.

First, a time check. It was 5:42. Close enough. By the looks of it, it might take some convincing to peel Miss Jackson away from the museum and her new friends. He gulped back the rest of his tonic water. Shit. Why had he needed to escape to the bar? He could hardly drag her out so quickly after handing her a glassful of wine. Too late now. Gale checked the notification – just Thom giving him a hard time. He sent a few quick messages before turning back toward his charge.

To his surprise, he saw Marian reaching out to shake Lincoln’s hand, saying, “ … a pleasure.” Katniss and Madge appeared to have stepped away for their own side conversation. Gale tried to tell himself that they could be talking about anything, that it wasn’t about him. He didn’t really believe it though.

“Miss Jackson, the pleasure was ours.” Lincoln took her hand in both of his. “I’m so glad we met. I hope we have the opportunity to work together in the future. When I see what these students can do with the support of the Mellarke Initiative, well I hope you’ve found it as inspiring as I do. Please. Enjoy the rest of your visit.”

Gale peered suspiciously at the two women talking behind Lincoln while Marian acknowledged, “Thank you. I’ve been very impressed. Programs like this do an incredible amount of good for this younger generation.” Then she turned quickly to Gale. “Time for dinner?”

Gale blinked and looked back at her. “Yes. Dinner.”

Marian glanced briefly, almost wistfully, toward Madge and Katniss, then said to Lincoln with finality, “please give them my regards.” Then she turned and, taking Gale by the arm, headed for the exit.

Campus is small, and it was a short walk to the restaurant. The sky was dark now and the wind cut into Gale’s jacket. He welcomed the cold; it reminded him of the first time his father took him to the woods. Back when the choices in his life were more about survival than anything else. He didn’t glorify that, but he missed his dad, and how simple the world had seemed to him then.

Thankfully, Marian walked in silence, head lowered against the wind, asking only a few generic questions about campus along the way. Gale assumed she had plenty to think about and little of it he could relate to. He had his own flood of unwelcome thoughts.

He was still piqued from the museum. Gale had no interest in art. Some might say it was because Peeta was an artist, and assume that the two men must be diametrically opposed on all fronts. Those people would be wrong. To Gale’s mind art was frivolous, a waste of resources that surely had better applications. There was enough beauty in the world already – the slow glow of sunrise, the colors autumn swept across the forest, the curve of a woman’s hip. He saw no need to dress it up in a backless dress. He could research history and analyze the moral consequences of Capitolites’ relentless beauty ideals, or the twisted adoration of victors, or his own imbecilic arrogance in strategic weapons design. It was fine if some artistry were incorporated into useful things, but art for art’s sake was worthless. He had no use for a gown wrapped in razor wire when he had pried bloody razor wire out of a fellow soldier’s wounds. And she had the arrogance to call him close minded. He still heard her in his head. At least you can see this danger coming. Not like what he had done. His fists clenched and unclenched. Always coming back at him. Rejoinders aplenty filled his thoughts. These kids should be moving on with new lives, not rehashing leftovers from the war. And his mind is plenty open to rational arguments, or how does a shattered orphan weaving broken glass and razor wire into a fancy frock help anyone, anyway?

The restaurant was warm and they were ushered quickly to a table. As they’re getting settled, Gale noticed a new message on his cuff. She's our top candidate so don't fuck this up for me, H.

Somehow Gale shook off his ugly thoughts and managed some pleasant small talk while they looked over the menu. He stuck to his usual, a beer and burger. She chose fish. They placed their order. Soon after came the awkward silence. Gale tried to think of something to talk about, ruling out politics, religion, and her personal life.

He asked, “Have you spent much time in city?”

“No,” she laughed. “Everyone back home thinks I'm crazy for thinking of moving, but it's such an exciting opportunity. Though I don’t know how I’ll adjust to the long winters.”

“You get used to it, I think,” Gale suggested. “It has its benefits.”

“What are those?” she asked, a gleam in her eye.

“Well, most southerners are most excited about the chance to see northern lights,” Gale told her. “But there's plenty of snow, great skiing, and when spring finally comes, nothing beats it.” He left out the bits about long nights under the blankets, in front of a fire, if you could find someone to join you. She'd told him her past job was incestuous and he was pretty sure she'd be offered the job. Besides, he was on the job. He wasn't going there tonight.

“Do you ski?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said. “Only when my sister demands it.”

They talked more about inconsequential things – a few good bars in town, how college employees avoided the hordes of students that took over the town, how things turned quiet in the summer. She was occasionally flirtatious, often curious. Once he asked, “are you hitting on me?” She somehow laughed it off while leaving the question open.

Their food came and they both dug in.

Eventually she asked, “So, you weren't on my original schedule. If you're not on the search committee, how did you wind up at dinner with a job candidate on a Thursday night? You draw the short straw?”

Gale shook his head. “It's a small department. Most of the office are tied down so there are only a couple of us to deal with last minute things.”

“Oh,” she drawled, “Thanks for the warning!”

“It's not, bad. They don't take advantage. Well, not too much.” he smirked.

“And the woman at the gallery … that was weird?” Marian asked.

“Ah, um. Sorry, you'd have been better off without me. We grew up together. Once there was no one we trusted more than each other. But things change,” he sighed. “I failed her when it mattered.”

“Wow,” she said. “So you two were together? That explains .. well, something.”

“We didn't date. Katniss and I were .. best friends.” Gale hedged. He didn't need to go into the whole first love, broken heart business.

Marian scoffed. “Katniss? Not her. The other one.”

Gale stared at her. “Undersee? No way. She doesn't have a sincere bone in her body.””

Marian looked unconvinced.

“They've been friends forever, I've never understood it.” Gale shrugged. “These days I avoid the Mellarke Initiative like the plague and that's that.”

Marian shook her head. “I still don't get it. What about you and the blonde? She … implied I should stay away from you.”

She did what now? Probably suggested he was a manwhore. Gale shrugged. “Nothing there.”

“I don't believe you. The only time you've shown any emotion tonight was fighting with her over that stupid dress.”

“Yeah, so she pissed me off,” Gale rolled his eyes. “She's very good at that. It doesn't mean .. it doesn't mean anything.”

She let it go then, or so it seemed.

“So, what do you think?” he asked her. “Are you going to take the job?”

“Technically I haven't been offered the job,” she reminded him.

Gale waved his hand. “They'll go through the bureaucracy, but I'd be surprised if you didn't get an offer. We all know what the job market is like – if you get this offer, you're probably getting others too. So what are you thinking?”

“Wait,,” she said. “Are you the office mole sent to game me out before an offer is made?”

Gale smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Hardly.”

“So?” she asked.

“Maybe I have more personal motives,” he smirked.

She gave him a broad smile. “Are you hitting on me now?”

Gale's smile widened. “That depends on if I'm going to be running into you at the coffee machine in a few months.”

“Really,” she answered.

Gale feigned innocence. “Apparently I have a reputation to live up to. But you said your old job has been more incestuous than Gray's Anatomy. It's a small college. I'm just looking out for you.”

“Right. Well, there's a good chance I'll take the job. I get you have personal issues with the initiative, but it would be a great opportunity for me. So I guess we should play by the rules tonight.”

Gale raised his glass and they toasted their agreement.

After dinner he walked her back to the campus conference center. He shook her hand goodnight at the door. She leaned in and quietly said, “For the record, I'm a fucking queen compared to Meredith Gray, and … I don't drink coffee.” He laughed.

That night he lay alone in bed. He caught himself imagining that teal dress, what it would be to discover what was underneath it. He blamed Marian Jackson.

#gadge day #gadge fanfic #my fanfic

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

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A Trump County Confronts the Administration Amid a Rash of Child Cancers https://nyti.ms/2GSjPYS

This is a tragic yet preventable story.... The EPA is supposed to protect Americans not kill them. 😡😡😡😡🤢🤢🤢🤢😭😭😭😭

A Trump County Confronts the Administration Amid a Rash of Child Cancers

By Hiroko Tabuchi | Jan. 2, 2019 | New York Times | Posted January 3, 2019 |

JOHNSON COUNTY, Ind. — The children fell ill, one by one, with cancers that few families in this suburban Indianapolis community had ever heard of. An avid swimmer struck down by glioblastoma, which grew a tumor in her brain. Four children with Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare bone cancer. Fifteen children with acute lymphocytic leukemia, including three cases diagnosed in the past year.

At first, families put the illnesses down to misfortune. But as cases mounted, parents started to ask: Could it be something in the air or water?

Their questions led them to an old industrial site in Franklin, the Johnson County seat, that the federal government had ordered cleaned up decades ago. Recent tests have identified a carcinogenic plume spreading underground, releasing vapors into homes.

Now, families in a county that voted overwhelmingly for President Trump are making demands of his administration that collide directly with one of his main agendas: the rolling back of health and environmental regulations.

On Wednesday, a group representing dozens of concerned parents called for a federal investigation by the Environmental Protection Agency’s Office of Inspector General — the same watchdog that examined the government’s slow response to the water crisis in Flint, Mich. — into why Franklin’s toxic plume of trichloroethylene, or TCE, persists.

The group accuses the E.P.A. of “serious mismanagement” and “significant delays” at the site, even after the dangers became apparent this summer, according to a letter the group said it sent to the E.P.A.’s Office of the Inspector General.

But the parents’ demands also reach well beyond immediate concerns about the chemicals under their feet.

Families across the political spectrum have also spoken out against the Trump administration’s drive to weaken restrictions on TCE, a colorless fluid with a subtle, sweet odor used by as many as four-fifths of the nation’s 65,000 dry cleaners, as well as about 2,200 factories and other facilities. Decades ago, it was used at the Franklin site.

Twice last year, parents from Johnson County traveled to Washington to urge the administration to stick with stronger controls.

“We are done begging,” said Kari Rhinehart, the mother of Emma Grace Findley, the 13-year-old swimmer who developed brain cancer and died in 2014. “We are demanding the E.P.A. finish what it started and place these restrictions on TCE and other dangerous toxins.”

The E.P.A. confirmed that the chemicals were present near the Franklin site and said that fewer than 10 of 37 homes it had tested had potential air quality issues. The agency said its testing was continuing and that, if necessary, homes would be fitted with devices to clean the air.

Declaring TCE “carcinogenic to humans by all routes of exposure,” the Obama administration had sought to restrict two of its riskiest uses, as a stain remover and as a degreaser, and had marked it for further review, potentially to ban the chemical altogether. It had also moved to strengthen cleanup rules for hundreds of sites nationwide believed to be contaminated.

But at the urging of industry groups, the Trump administration has stalled some of those moves. In 2017 it indefinitely postponed the proposed bans on risky uses, leaving as many as 178,000 workers potentially exposed. It also scaled back a broad review of TCE and other chemicals so that it would exclude from its calculations possible exposure from groundwater and other forms of contamination — the problems present in Franklin.

In Johnson County, a parents’ group co-founded by Mrs. Rhinehart, If It Was Your Child, has traced at least 58 childhood cancer cases since 2008. At 21.7 cases of pediatric cancer per 100,000 children, Johnson County’s rate puts it in the 80th percentile among counties nationwide, according to data for 2011-2015 from the National Cancer Institute. Both the national and Indiana average are fewer than 18 pediatric cancers per 100,000 children.

“You don’t expect to see so many cancers in a relatively small community,” said Dr. Paolo Boffetta, professor in environmental medicine and public health at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York. Even so, he stressed that there was little research linking childhood cancers to TCE. “This doesn’t mean an association doesn’t exist,” he said. “But studies have not been able to confirm it.”

Motria Caudill, a scientist at the federal Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, which investigates environmental hazards, said at a community meeting in Franklin in November that it was still too early to draw conclusions. Her agency was still working with others, she said, “just to see what is going on.”

The TCE contamination has been traced to a former factory that, for years, discharged industrial wastewater into a municipal sewer. Amphenol, an electronics maker based in Wallingford, Conn., became responsible for the cleanup after acquiring the site, though it no longer owns the property.

In June, tests by an environmental group, Edison Wetlands Association, working with parents, detected the chemical in the air at two homes and in outdoor air near the site. The findings prompted more tests by local and state government officials, including one by Franklin that found levels more than 250 times state limits around a sewer near the homes. In November, the E.P.A. identified a plume of contamination stretching beyond the site toward nearby homes.

Joseph Bianchi, an Amphenol spokesman, said the company was working “to help ensure the well-being of residents,” and the E.P.A. has promised to team up with the company on a cleanup plan. But at the November community meeting, patience wore thin.

“When will this cleanup be done and gone,” asked Sonya Hallett, a local philanthropy consultant and mother of one, “and not hazardous to people who are living around it?”

TROUBLE BENEATH THE GRASS

The state investigators who descended on Jennifer Clark’s house in October drilled into her basement floor. They sought signs that chemicals in the ground were turning into a vapor and rising into her home, a phenomenon known as “vapor intrusion.”

Her daughter Chelsea learned when she was 12 that she had acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a cancer of the blood and bone marrow. After chemotherapy, Chelsea, now 18, is in remission; she dreams of working in the beauty industry.

But over the summer, the Clarks received daunting news. Tests at their home on behalf of the Franklin parents’ group detected TCE levels more than 18 times federal limits.

Testing is tricky. Results can be affected by the weather or even by doors left open, said Kelly Pennell, associate director of the federally funded Superfund Research Center at the University of Kentucky. Indeed, later tests showed lower levels in the house.

Still, the Clarks remain worried. Their youngest daughter is now 12. “This is our forever home right here, where the kids are going to come back with the grandkids,” Mrs. Clark said.

They live about a mile and a half from the former industrial site in Franklin, now a patch of grass bordered by old railroad tracks to the north and neat rows of homes to the south.

Amphenol agreed to a cleanup in 1990, installing a “pump and treat” system that was supposed to control the contamination. For decades Amphenol pumped out groundwater, but contamination remained.

The technology’s apparent ineffectiveness raises questions about hundreds of other sites using it, said Shannon Lisa, program director at Edison Wetlands.

“How many other communities across the United States are facing these very same issues?” she said.

ONE HOME , TWO FAMILIES , TWO CANCERS

Two girls lived, several years apart, in the same Franklin apartment about a mile from the toxic site. Both developed cancer, one at age 8 and the other at 14.

“You can’t go anywhere, or do anything, without meeting someone who’s been affected,” said Angela Brennan, whose daughter, Karley, was one of those girls. In 2012, the family learned that Karley had cutaneous T-cell lymphoma, a rare cancer affecting the skin. Later that year, 14-year-old Madison Newton was told that she had an aggressive form of pilocytic astrocytoma, which causes tumors in the brain and spinal cord.

Karley, who turns 15 this week, is in remission. Madison died in 2015. And across Franklin, If It Was Your Child yard signs dot the city, where a local TV station, WTHR Channel 13, is doggedly tracking the concerns.

There are conflicting views in Johnson County of the administration’s environmental rollbacks. There is talk that the federal government should get out of people’s lives, even as local officials have called on the E.P.A. to take over the response to the contamination.

“When it comes to public health, we can go against party lines. And I don’t agree with trying to roll back the E.P.A.’s role,” said Steve Barnett, Franklin’s mayor and a Republican. “Back in the day, there weren’t any rules. That’s why there was so much contamination,” he said.

Many members of If It Was Your Child in the Franklin area play down the politics, noting that both parties have let the cleanup fall by the wayside. Nevertheless, their demands come at a time when the Trump administration has weakened the very rules that could prevent another Franklin.

“We should not have to fight Republicans or Democrats to save our children. It’s not a political fight for us,” said Stacie Davidson, a Trump voter who co-founded the parents’ group with Mrs. Rhinehart (who didn’t vote for Mr. Trump).

Mrs. Davidson said, “His loosening of E.P.A. regulations, it’s infuriating.” She added, “We’re ruining the environment for money.”

Mrs. Davidson learned in 2014 that her stepson, Zane, who was 10 at the time, had a rare form of leukemia. He is now in remission. She has traveled to Washington to speak in favor of stronger TCE regulations. “What we’re fighting for is seemingly being undone right now,” she said.

Still, she said, she did not regret her vote. “Trump’s a businessman. There are great things he can do for our country. But he’s used to building high rises for money,” she said. “He’s not as environmentally savvy. Our hope is that he surrounds himself with people who are more knowledgeable.”

Despite the emergence of alternatives to TCE, the Trump administration has stalled action on restricting its use. “There have been greener alternatives to TCE for years,” said Tom Forsythe, an executive vice president at Kyzen, a Tennessee cleaning-materials company, who joined E.P.A. officials in a conference call in August 2017 to lay out other options.

But a few months later, in October, when E.P.A. officials visited the Integer medical devices factory in Minneapolis, Minn., the agency received a different message.

“According to Integer, there are no effective alternatives,” read an E.P.A. memo about the visit, which was arranged by a chemicals group, the Halogenated Solvents Industry Alliance. Dry cleaners have also lobbied against a tightening of protections, arguing among other things that substitutes could harm clothing.

“Yes, we have spoken to E.P.A. about our desire not to have TCE banned — as is our right of free speech,” said Faye Graul, the chemical group’s executive director. TCE “is used in tightly controlled industrial settings,” she said, “with controls in place so that no workers are harmed.”

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE

Johnson County bills itself as the festival county. In December, it hosted a holiday parade and a drive-through Nativity with live actors. And the economy is strong. A technology park measuring nearly a million square feet is soon opening in Franklin.

#donald trump #u.s. news #politics #trump administration #epa #cancer #climatechangeisreal #climateaction #climate change

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shontaviajesq · 7 years

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#PopCultureClass: ShETHER Lesson #3: Artists, Beware of the 360 Deal (Even Though Nicki Doesn't Have One)

Less than a week ago now, Remy Ma released ShETHER and dropped some gems. I've been writing about the several lessons Professor Ma gave us through the lyrics all week. Lesson #3 is one that I hope didn't go over the heads of up and coming (and even established) artists. Artists must know and understand the 360 deal and its consequences.

Toward the end of ShETHER, Remy raps in explicit language (for those of you with delicate eyes) that Nicki is not as financially successful as she claims to be because she signed a "360 deal." Here are the lyrics:

And stop talking numbers, you signed a 360 deal Through Young Money, through Cash Money, through Republic Which means your money go through five niggas before you touch it Any videos, promotions come out of your budget Endorsements, tour and merchandise, they finger-fuck it . . . Stop comparing yourself to Jay, you not like him You a motherfucking worker, not a boss like Rem

Let's take some of this line-by-line, because there is a lot to unravel here:

"And stop talking numbers, you signed a 360 deal"

So what exactly is a 360 deal and why does it matter? It can matter a lot to an artist.

A 360 deal, also called a "multiple rights deal," is an exclusive recording contract between a record company and an artist where the label gets a cut from money made off of just about everything. In addition to money from the artist's music sales, a 360 deal gives the label a share in money made from:

Digital sales

Tours, concerts and live performance revenue

Merchandise sales

Endorsement deals

Appearances in movies and television shows

Songwriting, lyric display and publishing revenue

Ringtone sales

This wasn't always the case. 360 deals didn't really exist before 2002. Before then, artists mostly got traditional deals.

Not that traditional deals are much better. Traditional deals pay artists royalties on the sales of music. BUT, producer royalties, net sales, foreign sales, reductions for packaging, budget records and new technology are all deducted from the artist's royalties. This means that most of the time, the royalties received by artists are pretty small unless the artist has a hugely successful album. Traditional deals also give the labels ownership over copyrights in the artist's music and options for multiple albums.

TLC fell victim to such a deal. As Lisa "Left-Eye" Lopes explained in TLC's Behind the Music show in 1999:

The most important language from Left Eye's explanation:

This is how a group can sell 10 million records and be broke, and everybody get ready to do your math. There are 100 points on an album, TLC has seven; every point is equal to 8¢. Alright, seven times eight is 56¢. That means every time an album gets sold, TLC gets 56¢. Sell 10 million records: $5.6 million. So, LaFace Records had to spend about $3 million on [CrazySexyCool], so that automatically gets deducted from the $5.6 million before we can see a penny. Now, we have $2.6 million dollars left to split between the 3 of us. Well guess what? When you have that much money you’re in the about the 47, 48, 49% tax bracket, so that immediately gets deducted to $1.3 million.

360 deals incorporate all of the items that traditional deals have. But, with a traditional deal, the artist can still make significant money on other things like touring, publishing, selling merchandise, and endorsement deals with other companies, because the label doesn't get a cut of that (though, the artist probably has to repay the label for some or all of the money provided to pay for things up front).

Today, just about any new artist signing with a label is probably going to get some variation of the 360 deal. There have been a number of headlines about artists wanting to get out of their 360 deals, including Wiz Khalifa and Young Thug. Lupe Fiasco refused to sign one. Record labels prefer 360 deals because the money made from music has been dramatically declining over the past roughly 15 years, while other opportunities are booming.

Mo Money, Mo Money, Mo Money

Today, artists are making most of their money from this other stuff, not music sales.

After My Adidas came out in 1986, the million dollar endorsement deal that RUN-DMC received from Adidas was the first deal between hip-hop artists and a major corporation in history.

Just a few years ago, history was made again when Dr. Dre entered into a $3 billion Beats headphones deal with Apple, Inc. Labels, of course, want a piece of this pie (which is probably one of the reasons Chance has declined recent offers for a record deal - he can eat the whole pie and make more money).

New @kitkat jingle with Chance The WRAPper @chancetherapper 🍫

A post shared by HOT 97 (@hot97) on Oct 4, 2016 at 8:33am PDT

Given the potential to make money in multiple ways, record labels want in on this action. Labels now often insist on 360 deals as a matter of course, even if they don't actually contribute money or resources up front to develop those additional revenue streams.

From the label's perspective, of course, they are spending a lot of money up front in some regards. They spend money to develop the artist, get the artist invited to industry events, hire appropriate photographers and videographers, create great digital media accounts, get the music on the radio, etc. etc. etc. Basically, the argument is that a 360 deals allow labels to focus on the entire universe of the artist and not just record sales.

For some artists, this seems to have worked well and created massive amounts of success. Speaking about Lady Gaga, one lawyer has noted that,

For instance, Lady Gaga was a virtual unknown before Interscope spent a vast sum putting her on tour as an opening act for the New Kids on the Block, paying for marketing (particularly to the gay community), hiring wardrobe and makeup, and paying all her other expenses for over a year, not to mention using their clout to get her invited as a guest on almost every important radio station in the country.

Most people aren't going to be as commercially successful as Lady Gaga, of course, so labels could be in the red on many artists who don't pan out.

In addition, there are few Lady Gagas in the entertainment industry. Labels probably won't agree in writing to do all of the things Interscope did for Lady Gaga, which means there's no guarantee they will, indeed, focus on the artist's holistic development. In addition, the vast majority of artists don't have much of a choice regarding whether to take a 360 deal or not, because labels insist on them.

Now, whether or not Nicki actually signed a 360 deal is a different question. According to the Young Money press release from 2009 announcing Nicki's arrival, she doesn't have one. Even if she does have one, it sounds like she negotiated to keep many of her rights.

So, the lie detector test couldn't determine whether this is 100% true or false (because copies of the contract aren't publicly available), but Nicki's own label seems to suggest that she retained many of her rights. Remy may, therefore, be mistaken on this.

The Structure of Record Labels

Remy doesn't concern herself with the specifics of Nicki's deal though. She moves right through to the next line in ShETHER with some truth-telling:

Through Young Money, through Cash Money, through Republic Which means your money go through five niggas before you touch it

The lie detector test determined that Remy is telling the truth on this point.

It seems that Nicki did, indeed, sign a deal with the lowest man on the record label food chain. Before Young Money can pay her, it first has to get its money from somewhere else.

Nicki is signed to Li'l Wayne's Young Money record label. According to Li'l Wayne's recent legal complaint against Birdman's Cash Money Records, Inc., the Young Money record label is a joint venture between Young Money LLC (a legal organization) and Cash Money (another legal organization) in which Li'l Wayne owns a 49% interest and Cash Money presumably owns a 51% interest. Cash Money, in turn, is distributed by Republic Records, which is a division of Universal Music Group, which "is a subsidiary of the Paris-based French media conglomerate Vivendi."

So, as it turns out, Remy probably didn't even go far enough - there's probably a lot more than five [parties] who are handling the finances before they get to Nicki. This means the money has a lot of people and companies to go through before it gets to her.

Li'l Wayne's dispute with Birdman/Cash Money also seems to prove that Remy is right. Li'l Wayne is suing Cash Money because he believes the label hasn't paid him the many millions of dollars (51, to be exact) they owe him. The basics of all of this is Universal gave money to Cash Money, who was supposed to give money to Young Money so that Young Money could pay its artists. But that money hasn't been paid.

There are also criminal allegations that Birdman tried to have Li'l Wayne killed. They've come a long way since they were kissing in the mouth in public.

Li'l Wayne actually sued Cash Money Records first. He later sued Universal Music Group for more than $40 million, but that lawsuit that has been stayed (postponed) until the Cash Money issue is resolved. Essentially, the courts have told Li'l Tunechi that he has to climb the food chain to get that money.

Seeing that Nicki is signed to Li'l Wayne's label, which he only owns 49% of, Remy's seems to be right that some of Nicki's money goes through multiple channels first. If its true that she kept many of her 360 rights though, Nicki is probably fine financially.

Anyway, after listing all of Nicki's bosses by name, Remy goes deeper into the nature of the 360 deals, rapping that:

Any videos, promotions come out of your budget Endorsements, tour and merchandise, they finger-fuck it

The lie detector test determined that Remy is telling the truth about 360 deals, but likely not about Nicki specifically. 360 deals give the record label a piece of many things, including endorsements, tours and merchandise. But, as mentioned above, Nicki doesn't seem to have one, at least on some points.

What can the artist do to protect themselves? It depends. If the artist has leverage and a great lawyer, they can probably negotiate a lot of the terms. Again referring to the 2009 Young Money press release about Nicki:

The battle among labels to sign Minaj heightened this summer and finalized with Minaj signing an exceptional and very unique deal with Young Money/Universal, where she retains and owns all of her 360 rights, including merchandising, sponsorships, endorsements, touring and publishing.

Nicki had leverage. And her label recognizes explicitly that this deal is not open to most artists. By 2009, Nicki had three mixtapes, had been covered by BET and MTV, and appeared on several Billboard lists.

But, if the artist isn't quite there yet, all isn't lost. It just requires a lot of hustle on the front end by releasing tons of music, touring, and/or building fan bases online and off. If an artist is presented with a 360 deal (which is likely for major labels), here are three points to consider regarding negotiating the terms:

#1. Negotiate to exclude income streams that the artist has already created.

If the artist is already making money on ringtones, touring, etc., the label hasn't done anything to develop or create that income stream. So perhaps the label shouldn't get paid off of it.

#2. Ask the label to agree, in writing, to spend money on developing each income stream.

In a YouTube interview, two seasoned entertainment lawyers - Steve Gordon and Elliot Resnick - talk about how this can be accomplished. To summarize the video, the standard agreement allows for a record label to get a share of different income streams (called "splits") as follows:

• 50% Merchandise

• 25% Touring and live performance

• 25% of digital products, including ringtones and sales from the artist’s fan site

• 25% Publishing

• 25% Endorsements

• 25% of any other income, including TV and movies appearances, theatre, book publishing, etc.

The ultimate point is that, no matter what splits are offered, the artist and their lawyer should ask the label to agree, in writing, to support those streams in some way - hopefully financially. This might be through manufacturing merchandise and selling it at retail online and on tours. It may be through other things. But, the label should do something in exchange for those percentages.

If the label can't or won't provide support for income streams, the artist can try to negotiate an advance (meaning, get a loan up front) for individual income streams. Also, the artist should try to negotiate that the label is not allowed to take money from one income stream to pay for balances owed for another.

#3. Base the label's income share on net revenues, not gross revenues.

If the artist must agree to a 360 deal using the percentages mentioned above, negotiate that the percentage is based on net income, not gross. Gross income is the total money made before any expenses are paid for anything. Net income is the amount of money made after all expenses are paid. Here's an example from Steve Gordon, the lawyer I mentioned earlier:

For instance, if a tour earns the artist $25,000 but her expenses added up to $20,000 (for hotels, transportation, booking agent fees, sound and lighting, etc.), the label should only commission the $5,000 in profits not the entire $25,000. Indeed, if the label’s commission was 25% and that was based on gross, the amount due to the label would actually exceed the artist’s profit.

Final Thoughts

Remy is right about 360 deals taking money out of artist's pockets. Nicki's pockets, however, seem to be just fine, if it is indeed true that she kept her 360 rights.

Other artists can learn from both of these women though. The default 360 deal can truly be terrible, but an artist can find a good negotiating position by taking these lessons to heart. Or, an artist can take the Chance the Rapper approach. Though he doesn't have a record deal, per se, he certainly works with larger companies, like Apple, to develop income streams that he gets to keep.

Either approach requires an understanding of record deals and what is best for the artist. In the words of Remy Ma, one's status as a boss and not a worker depends on it.

#Music

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