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janeyseymour · 2 months

Note

If your still doing request, maybe Y/N is crushing on Melissa, and leaves her a secret admirer gift on Valentine’s Day, due to wanting Melissa to be happy/have some happiness after the whole Gary disaster.

stop i loved writing this one! thank you for the prompt! As per usual: not edited in the slightest and praying it's good enough!

When There is Love, There is Life...

WC: ~4.7k

Since Melissa broke up with Gary, she’s been… not herself. She’s been down and out, quiet, resigned. She doesn’t have her usual fire or bite that you’ve come to know and love. And you completely understand why. She was with Gary for a couple of years, and she was perfectly content with him (as much as that pained you to see). The redhead could see her spending the rest of her days with him as a boyfriend, life partner… whatever you wanted to label it as so long as that label wasn’t “husband”. She made that very clear. And then, like a fool, he went and ruined it despite the fact that she had told him she didn’t want to get married again. He proposed, and he lost her because of it. In that, she lost a piece of herself.

It didn’t help that Valentine’s day was just around the corner either. Perfect timing for a breakup that would be humiliatingly public and change her life more than she was willing to admit.

So when she isn’t quite herself, you understand why. Everyone at the school understands why she’s been different.

Your colleagues have all offered different supports for her. Barbara was there when she needed a glass of wine, Jacob and Janine were there when the second grade teacher wanted to cook for someone, Gregory had taken her to a kickboxing place where she could get her aggressions out, Mr. Johnson brought in bunch of old plates and bowls for her to destroy in any way she would choose (she chose her emotional support baseball bat), even Ava was able to help by taking her out to a club to dance.

What had you done? Not much else other than offer her gentle words of support and provide small, sweet gestures to remind her that she had a village to help take care of her. You promised her that it was all going to be okay. You gave her small, shy smiles when you felt that she needed one, and she had even come to you for a hug one day when she was in desperate need of physical touch and her work wife had taken off a bit early to attend a doctor’s appointment with her husband. If you noticed that she was dragging, you would take it upon yourself to make another pot of coffee and bring her a mug of the warm beverage just the way that she liked it prepared.

You were there for her in ways that were small to you, but they made the biggest differences to her. While she surely appreciated the things that everybody else did for it, it was a bit of a one and done kind of deal to offer their supports initially, but your kind and thoughtful actions carried on as the days passed on. It made her feel taken care of in a way that she hadn’t felt in a while, even when she was with Gary.

“Any plans for Valentine’s day?” Jacob asks the group one day during lunch, and you can see the way that Melissa’s face immediately turns solemn. You knew that her and Gary were going to go out to a nice steakhouse on the fourteenth, but that plan was obviously shot now that they weren’t together.

“Gregory and I are going out to BoneTown together since we’re both single,” Janine jumps in. “It’ll be… nice.”

“Nice,” Gregory hums. “Yeah.”

“Zach and I are going out to this one new tofu spot that I’ve been dying to try,” Jacob grins. “It’ll be good. Then we’ll probably head home and have a few glasses of wine before retiring for the night… What about you Barb?”

“Gerald and I are going back to that one restaurant at the airport that we liked so much last year,” Barbara tells the crew. “Melissa, you know you’re always welcome to join us.”

“I ain’t gonna crash your Valentine’s Day plans with Gerald,” she sighs softly. “I’ll Probably finish off a bottle of wine on my own. Don’t got much else to do these days.”

You lay a gentle hand over hers and attempt to pour as much comfort and love into that small gesture as you can. “I don’t really have plans either,” you shrug. “So if you want, we can have Galentine’s day and finish off a bottle of wine together.”

The redhead gives you a sad smile. “Thanks for the offer, hun.”

As the days leading up to Valentine’s Day come and go, you see the way that the rest of your colleagues get small little gestures from their partners. It’s sweet- it isn’t just one day to go all out and celebrate love, but instead a reminder that love is always around and that there should always be an appreciation for your partner through life. Even Gregory and Janine have gone back to flirting, and he’s doing small little things for her.

As Barbara gets a small bouquet of flowers delivered to her in the break room, you see the way that Melissa’s body deflates.

“Wow,” she whispers. “Those are gorgeous.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You really don’t know how to make her feel better through this one, so you simply top off her coffee with a gentle squeeze of the shoulder.

She reaches up and sets her hand over yours with a sad, resigned, smile.

When lunch is over, you head back to your classroom with your kids and give them five minutes to regroup themselves before you begin your lessons again for the rest of the day.

And in those five minutes, you research different flower arrangements that you could possibly send to the redhead who is so down this season. You’re able to find a site that you like, and you bookmark it for later when the kids have gone home and you actually have time to go over the different selections that this place has to offer.

The rest of the day goes by relatively normally, with the slight hiccup of Jamal spilling his juice all over himself and having to go down to the nurse to get another change of clothes while you get on your hands and knees to wipe up the mess with the paper towels that never seem to absorb anything but only spread the liquid around instead. With a sigh, you simply throw a rather large wad of paper towels over the area and give up, telling your students to be especially careful in this area.

The kids leave for the day, giving you lots of hugs and thanks for teaching them that day, and as you see them out, you see the way that Melissa’s kids are doing the same to her. It warms your heart to see that beautiful smile that you haven’t seen quite as much of lately. She looks up, making eye contact with you with this emerald eyes of hers, before giving you a gentle smile and a nod of her head. She’s telling you she’s okay, at least right now. You give her a thumbs up with a bright, warm smile of your own before returning your attention to the last few stragglers in your classroom.

Usually, the redhead and you leave the school everyday almost right after the bell rings to dismiss the final wave of students; but not today. Today, you have to stay after school to look over the different flower arrangements that you could potentially get Melissa. You settle down back at your desk in the front of your room and start looking at the pre-made arrangements before you hear a gentle knock on your doorframe. You quickly flip the tab to your emails before glancing up.

“Hey,” Melissa says softly.

“Hey,” you smile at her.

“You staying late tonight?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dramatically. “I have a bunch of emails I have to reply to, and I’m prepping for this round of conferences,” you lie. You’ve already finished most of your conference preparations, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh.” Her face drops, and you immediately feel bad. “Well, have a good night, Y/N.”

You stand from your chair and stretch, as if you’ve been sitting there for a while, even though she had seen you not ten minutes ago standing at your door with the kids. “I think I can spare a few moments to walk a pretty lady to her car though.”

You notice the way that her cheeks turn pink and she tucks a few hairs behind her ears shyly- it’s so unlike Melissa. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist,” you tell her as you make your way over to her and take one of her many bags for her.

The two of you walk out together and make small talk through the parking lot, exchanging a few words about your days, before you get to her car. She unlocks the door, and you open the door for her, gesturing for her to get inside. “My lady.”

“You’re too kind,” she says softly as she sets her purse into the passenger seat. You hand her her other bag and allow her to get situated before closing the door for her too.

“Have a good night, Mel,” you tell her. “And seriously, if you need someone tonight… because I know lunch was a little rough, please don’t hesitate to text or call. I always have my phone on me, and I’ll be there for you.”

Her eyes almost well with tears. They look a little glassy as she nods silently and turns her car on. “Thank you, hun. Have a good night too.”

With that, she pulls off out of the parking lot, and you head back into the school to continue looking at the different flowers.

You find two relatively small bouquets of flowers that you absolutely adore, but you want to do something special for her. So, and maybe this is overkill, you order three different arrangements: two smaller ones, and then one bigger custom one. She deserves to feel loved and special. You’ll give her the two smaller ones in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, and then on the big day, she’ll receive the specially made one for her. You just hope that she doesn’t find out it’s you who is giving her these flowers.

The next morning, you pick up the first flower order, and it’s perfect. It’s small, and sweet, and you know she’ll appreciate it. You print out a little note to go with it, knowing you can’t handwrite your note or she’ll figure you out right away.

You deserve to feel special, your note reads, you tie it to the bouquet with a little ribbon that you had brought into school, and you set it on her desk before she comes in for the day. Then you head down to the break room to brew a pot of coffee like you usually do and wait for the rest of your colleagues to make their way in.

Everyone has joined you at your selected tables to watch the news and drink your coffees when Melissa comes in, the flowers in hand.

“Wow, Melissa! Those are beautiful!” Barbara grins when she sees what the redhead is holding.

“They really are,” she looks back down at them, admiring them. The money you were spending was well worth it to see the happiness and spark come back into the redhead’s eyes, even if just for a few seconds. “I don’t know who they’re from though.”

She settles in next to you, her mug of coffee already prepared and waiting for her next to you, and you glance at the flowers.

“Wow, Mel,” you say softly. “They’re really pretty.”

“Was there a note?” Jacob asks.

“There was,” Melissa fiddles with it in her fingers, having untied it from around the flowers. She reads it out loud before sighing. “But there was no name attached to it.”

“Sounds like someone has a secret admirer!” Janine giggles. “Oh my goodness, this is so exciting!”

“Maybe it’s Gary trying to win you back,” the energetic second grade teacher suggests.

That makes Melissa think. Maybe it is. And you are not about to give yourself up, so you just set a gentle hand on Melissa’s shoulder and squeeze it gently.

“Whoever got those for you made a good choice,” you say softly.

The next morning, you execute the same thing that had yesterday with the other smaller bouquet you had bought, and again she brings them into the break room with her to watch the news. She looks so happy, it melts your heart. You’re so glad you can bring her some sort of happiness through this tough season of hers, even if she doesn’t know it’s you who is giving it to her.

“You deserve to feel loved,” Melissa reads the second note. “ But again, no name.”

And finally, one Valentine’s Day, you bring in the biggest bouquet that you had purchased. You can’t hide this one under your coat though, so when Mr. Johnson sees you walking in, you know you’ve been caught.

“Mr. J,” you plead as the two of you walk in the direction of Melissa’s classroom. “Please… don’t say anything. She doesn’t need to know it’s me.”

“I think she’d like to know who it is,” the janitor states.

“But I don’t want her finding out,” you say quietly. “I just want her to be happy and feel loved during this season, especially with the breakup being so new for her.”

“What do I get out of not telling her?” he questions.

You roll your eyes. You knew he would ask this question. “I’ll get you a gift card to buffalo wild wings- twenty bucks.”

“Make it twenty-five, and you got yourself a deal.”

“Fine,” you groan. “I’ll run out and grab it tonight, and you’ll have it by tomorrow, okay?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he pumps his fist in the air victoriously before leaving you to do your thing.

This bouquet already has a special note written with it, so you can just drop them off in her room without having to prep anything. You set the bouquet on her desk again before making sure the little card is visible. And then you practically sprint off in the direction of your own room. You really do have to get things prepared in there for the class party before you make your way down to the staff room like you usually do.

When you get there, everyone else is already there, including Melissa- and she has her flowers with her and the note.

“Y/N!” Janine calls you over. “You’re just in time to hear what Melissa’s secret admirer has to say about this bouquet!”

With eyebrows raised, you make your way over to the coffee pot to pour yours and the redhead’s coffee and make it up.

“When there is love, there is life, and you deserve it all,” the redhead reads softly, a smile on her face.

“Oh, that is so kind of whoever this is,” Barbara notes.

“Seriously! Those flowers are absolutely stunning,” Janine states.

“And I love that this person didn’t just go for a dozen red roses,” Gregory tells her. “All of these flowers mean different things, I don’t know if the person who got this for you knew that or not, but…”

“What do they mean?” Melissa’s interest is piqued.

Shit. You forgot Gregory loves any sort of plants- of course he would know the different meanings behind the flowers you picked out for your little crush.

“Well,” he says as he takes a closer look at the arrangement. “The yellow roses signify friendship, while the white ones mean purity. The yellow roses that turns red at the ends shows friendship turning into love. The pink carnations show that this person will never forget you, while the daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings. Hydrangeas show gratitude and deep understanding. And finally, the baby’s breath that is used to surround all of the other flowers shows innocence and hope.”

“Wow,” Jacob breathes softly. “That’s so… romantic.”

“If the person knew that’s what those all meant,” you say from your place next to Melissa. You knew all of this- you had done your research.

“So, what do you think this person is trying to say?” Janine asks, rocking back and forth on her toes.

“If I had to guess,” Gregory scratches the back of his neck. “This person is trying to tell Melissa that they started off as friends, but it’s turned into a pure and innocent sort of romance? Like they have a deep understanding that this is probably not the best time, but they will never forget her, they have hope for the future, and they are just grateful to have Melissa in their life in any way possible.”

Fuck. Gregory just said everything you were trying to subtly convey to the redheaded second grade teacher through flowers. Fuck. If she finds out it’s you… you’re screwed.

They don’t find out who you are today, and come the end of the day, you and Melissa walk out together as you usually do. She is happy, even doing a little dance as she leaves the building, holding the flowers closely to her. You’ve taken it upon yourself to carry the rest of her things for her, despite her protests.

“You have to make sure those flowers get home safely,” you chuckle as you wave her off. You place her things in her car before giving her a gentle pat on the back.

“I’ll see you a little later?” she asks.

“I’ll be there to enjoy some delicious Italian made by my favorite person,” you tell her. “Am I bringing red or white tonight? Maybe a bottle of champagne?”

“Chianti,” she tells you. “And maybe a dessert wine for after?”

“You got it,” you grin at her. “I’ll see you at 5:30.”

When you knock on her door, you can hear her having a very loud conversation over the phone.

“No, Gare,” she’s protesting loudly into the phone as she opens the door and invites you in. She holds up one finger, quietly requesting for a few minutes. “No! I do not want to get back together!”

“Then why did you call?!” he shouts back.

“Because I was tryna figure out who got me these flowers, and you’re the type of guy to make some grand gesture like this to get me back!”

“Well, it wasn’t me, but it sounds like you want to get back together!”

“I thought I made it clear, I didn’t!” She hangs up angrily before hurling her phone halfway across the room. It lands on the couch before bouncing off and hitting the floor.

“You okay?” you ask, although you very much know the answer.

“Fuckin’ men,” she shouts as she retrieves her phone and stuffs it into her back pocket. She takes a deep breath before looking at you. “I’m better now that you’re here.”

“Still haven’t figured out who your secret admirer is?” you tease.

“No,” she grumbles as she leads you into the kitchen. It smells amazing. “And it’s drivin’ me up a damned wall. Whoever this person is, I just want to know so I can thank them.”

You almost reveal yourself there, but you remember what Gregory had said earlier in the day, and you don’t want to make a fool out of yourself right now. So you just shrug and gesture for her to open the wine.

The two of you have a nice, quiet night in eating delicious food, drinking good wine, and then watching a few romance comedy movies together. It’s nice, it’s sweet, it’s pure… it’s domestic the way that she has a blanket draped over the two of you while you lay your head in her lap and she feeds the chocolate covered strawberries she had made for dessert.

But finally, you sigh. “I should probably get going with school tomorrow.”

She frowns. Melissa is clearly enjoying tonight with you, and you have to throw in the towel because of work tomorrow. “Yeah, I guess I should probably head up for the night too.”

You sit up with her help and start to grab your things. She watches as your figure sways back and forth, somewhat from the wine and somewhat from not having stood for hours.

“You okay?” she chuckles.

You shake your legs out. “All good. Don’t worry about me, Mel.” You make your way over to her once you have your bag around you. She stands and embraces you for a few minutes, and you allow her perfume to wash over you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mel,” you whisper as you pull away.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, hun,” she smiles at you. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Of course,” you beam back at her as you head for the door. You make your way out and are halfway to your car before you hear the front door open again, and she’s calling out to you.

“Text me when I know you’re home safe?”

You spin around to give her a thumbs up with a goofy grin on your face before you climb into your car. She watches you pull off, and you make sure you remember to text her when you get home.

“I still don’t know,” Melissa says quietly in the break room the next day. “Did you see anyone Ava?”

The principal is drinking her hangover elixir, sunglasses still on her face. “Girl, you know I get here way after you guys… otherwise I woulda been all over this secret admirer stuff before today.”

“How hungover are you?” the redhead eyes the woman.

“Valentine’s Day? More like Valentine’s week. You know this entire week I’ve been wined, dined and-”

“Please, God… don’t finish that sentence,” Barbara cuts off Ava. The principal just smirks.

“But, if you really are curious, maybe we can see what flower company was delivering these to your room to figure out who this admirer is,” Ava grins.

“And how the hell are we gonna do that?” Melissa looks at her incredulously.

“Girl, I got cameras all over this joint,” the hungover woman grins. “Come down at my prep. I’ll be less hungover, and feel more inclined to help.”

“Thank you, Ava,” the second grade teacher looks mildly impressed with her boss’s willingness to help. “Hey, has anyone seen Y/N yet today?”

“Her car wasn’t in the lot when I pulled in… weird,” Jacob hums.

You rush in frantically. “Hey, hey,” you wave. “Sorry I’m late… got a flat tire, had to change it on Girard, and then got stuck in some traffic.” You make your way over to the sink to clean off your dirty hands.

“Girl, you ain’t late,” Ava laughs. “You’re still twenty minutes early.”

“Why were you on Girard?” Melissa questions. “You usually come from the opposite direction.”

The truth is, you had to go pick up that gift card you promised the custodian for keeping your secret, but you can’t tell her that.

“Late for me,” you sigh, ignoring the redhead’s question. “You know I like to get here at least an hour in advance to prep for the day. Now, because I’m late, I’m gonna have to skip out on watching the news with you guys, but let me know if there’s anything worth hearing about.”

You slip your lunch into the fridge (leftovers from last night) before dashing out to your classroom.

On your way to your room, you hand Mr. Johnson his promised gift card, and he grins. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” you tell him earnestly before going into your room. Only then do you realize that you entirely forgot to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

You get that mug of coffee about twenty minutes later, after the news segment is over and your colleagues are heading back to their classrooms. You hear a gentle knock on your doorframe, making you look up. Melissa is standing there with two mugs filled to the brim with coffee.

“Thought you might need this,” the redhead chuckles as she hands the mug to you. You let your fingers wrap around it, and the warmth radiating from the cup and from the sweet gesture sooth your somewhat frazzled soul right now.

“Thank you,” you smile at her before taking a sip.

“Of course.”

Your morning goes by with no hitches, and you silently thank God for that as you walk your children down to the music room. You don’t think you could handle another crisis today.

Melissa gives you a small smile and wave as she also takes her class to their special- gym class. You hear her tell her little eagles to behave before she heads into the office. That’s odd; the two of you usually spend your preps together, but maybe she has a meeting with Ava or has to make copies and she’ll be down to your room after.

“Hey,” the redhead knocks on Ava’s door and makes her way in.

“Girl, you gotta see this,” the principal leans back in her chair and turns the monitor for Melissa to see more easily.

When the redhead gets to where she can see the screen, Ava already has the security footage up and on the camera that is in the hallway to where your rooms are. She sees you heading into her own classroom- the first small bouquet of flowers in your hand. The principal fast forwards to the next day around the same time, and there you are with the second small bouquet of flowers. And then she fast forwards to yesterday, and you’re chatting with Mr. Johnson while holding the gigantic bouquet of flowers.

Ava turns the sound on, and the redhead can hear you pleading to not give you up.

“Wow,” Melissa whispers. She bites her lip nervously. “Thank you.”

“I got you girl,” Ava tosses her hair over her shoulder. “What you gonna do about this?”

At that, the redhead purses her lips in thought. She doesn’t really know. “Thank her, I guess.”

As Melissa makes her way down to your room, she really doesn’t know what she’s going to do. But before she knows it, she’s at your door and making her way into the classroom. You look up from your computer to give her a bright smile.

“Hey,” you smile as you bring your coffee cup up to your lips and take a sip.

“Thank you,” Melissa says softly as she perches herself on your desk.

“For?” you raise a brow.

“The flowers,” she smiles as she reaches forward and squeezes your shoulder.

You blush deeply. “H-how?”

“Oh,” the redhead laughs quietly. “I have my ways… Ava has security cameras and we saw you putting them in my room.”

“Dammit,” you grumble.

“That was really sweet of you,” Melissa tells you quietly. “Thank you. Seriously.”

You turn a violent shade of red. “Uh, yeah. No problem. I meant what I said in my notes: You deserve to feel loved. You deserve to feel special. When there is love, there is life, and you deserve it all.”

“If you meant all that,” Melissa hums. “Did you… mean all the things Gregory thought you meant?”

If possible, you blush even more, feeling it spread from just your face to your ears and your chest.

“Did ya?”

You nod sheepishly. “But I know with everything that’s happened recently… and I really am just grateful to have you in my life, however that is.”

She gives you a gentle squeeze of the shoulder before leaning in and pecking your cheek softly.

You feel that spot burning, but you couldn’t be happier.

“I do like you, you know,” she says softly. “You being here is part of the reason I broke it off with Gary.”

“What?” your jaw drops.

“You’ve always been special… but I just don’t think now is a great time,” Melissa admits quietly.

You nod solemnly.

“But I think that with time,” she says quickly. “If you’re willing to wait… although I know that isn’t really fair of me to ask of you.”

“I’m willing to wait,” you whisper. “You’re worth it.”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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hussyknee · 1 year

Text

Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston.

(transcribed from the page pictures posted)

This is the coda to the end of the book, so don't read it if you haven't read the book first. Sadly, the Collector's Edition doesn't seem to be available on Kindle so. Arrrr matey.

Download link for file at the end.

....

HENRY

“I am not asking you to believe in it, or even to like it,” Henry says stonily. It’s been a long morning already. He is beginning to perspire. “I am simply asking you to show a modicum of respect.”

“To–to your quiche?”

“Yes. To my quiche.”

Bea puts down her tape gun and wipes her eyes. “Pez!”

“Yes?”

“Henry says he’s going to make us a quiche!”

Pez’s squawk of a laugh bounces down the stairs. “Pull the other one!”

“I make them all the time for Alex,” Henry insists. “They are perfectly edible.”

“So, when you promised us breakfast if we got up early to help you.” Bea says, “you meant that you were going to make us breakfast?”

“Yes!” Henry says hotly. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry!” Bea says. “It’s only that...well, Henry, the last time you cooked breakfast for me, you were twelve and you put a sausage in the microwave until it exploded.”

“That was your idea! And it’s been ages since then! I’ve studied, all right? I’m quite good now. Those pictures I send the group chat aren’t just for show.”

“Oh, aren’t they?” Bea says rudely, as if his incredibly generous offer to cook her a shallot-and-thyme quiche with mushrooms from the farmer’s market means nothing at all. As if he’s lived in this house for five entire years without learning to use its kitchen.

Perhaps if their lives weren’t so chaotic, if Henry weren’t flying out of New York every time Bea had a spare moment to fly in, he could have proven this to her earlier. But Pez, who lives mostly in the city now and visits so frequently he’s earned his own Secret Service code name (Cardinal, since Henry is Bishop), should know better.

“Percy Okonjo,” Henry says as Pez joins them, “you were here last weekend when I made mince pie. You loved it.”

“Did I?” Pez wonders aloud, with an annoyingly Bea-like lilt.

“Look at this apron!” Henry gestures to himself and the navy blue apron he’s wearing. Alex gave it to him for his birthday last year. “Would a man who can’t make a quiche have an apron like this? It’s monogrammed.”

“You’re royalty, babes,” Pez points out. “Everything you own is monogrammed.”

From the pocket of his serious-home-cook apron, his phone buzzes. Reinforcements. The FaceTime connects, and Alex says, “Good morning, love of my li–”

“Alex,” Henry interrupts, “tell them about my quiches.”

Alex pushes up his sunglasses and frowns into the camera. He looks so lovely with his faded T-shirt and jean jacket and shaggy hair. Pure American heartthrob, might as well have a cowboy hat on. Henry never does tire of it.

“Sorry?”

“Bea and Pez don’t believe I can make a quiche.”

“What? Have they seen your apron?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Henry’s quiches are great!” Alex says loudly, to the kitchen at large. “I almost never find shells in them!”

That sets Bea and Pez off again. On the screen, Alex’s face crinkles into laughter.

“Thank you very much, Alex, you’ve been a tremendous help,” Henry groans. “How are things? Florist this morning, wasn’t it?”

“Just finishing up.” Alex says with a grin. “Final approvals done. Everything looks great.”

With only one week until moving day and two until the wedding, it made sense to divide and conquer. Henry agreed to stay in New York and finish packing up the brownstone with help from Bea and Pez, while Alex, June, and Nora are ticking off the last of their checklists in Texas.

“Of all the surprises that wedding planning has brought us,” Henry says, “your ability to micromanage floral arrangements has certainly been...one of them.”

“You know I love to curate a vibe,” Alex says.

“That you do,” Henry agrees. “Where are the girls?”

“Getting donuts,” Pez answers before Alex can. He holds up his phone, open to a photo of June blowing a kiss while Nora fellates an éclair.

“Donuts!” Bea says. “Now there’s an idea!”

They spend the rest of the day drowning in cardboard boxes and bin liners, packing everything but the furniture and the downstairs television. Pez reminds him once an hour that they could pay someone to do this, but Bea is stubborn, and Henry is reluctant to let anyone else wade into all the intimate trappings of his and Alex’s life. It was bad enough explaining the contents of the trick drawer in their dresser to Pez, much less some mover he’s never met.

When it’s done, Bea puts A Knight’s Tale on in the living room and promptly falls asleep on Pez’s lap. Pez passes out too, but Henry stays awake, because Heath Ledger deserves an audience. And because he knows if he doesn't wake Bea and move her to the guest bedroom, he'll have to hear about her back spasms in the morning.

David hops up beside him on the loveseat, and Henry strokes the top of his snout until his little body relaxes into Henry's side.

"Nervous old boy," Henry hums. It still does seem like the ultimate irony that the dog he adopted for emotional support has anxiety. David has grown more and more worried all week, as more and more of his home disappeared into boxes. "We won't leave you, I promise."

The brownstone has been a good house for them. Sturdy brick walls, neighbors that actually let them be. Henry has loved it more than he ever loved Kensington, or at least as much as he loved Kensington when his parents both lived there too. Some mornings, when he comes downstairs to find Alex with the coffeepot and the kettle already on, he feels the way he did when his family all slept under one roof. This roof is quite a bit smaller than that one, but the feeling isn't.

So, perhaps David hasn't got entirely the wrong idea. It is hard to let the place go. For the past month, Alex has kept asking Henry why he's staring, and the truth is that he's been committing to memory exactly how Alex looks in every room. How the bannister fits in his hand, the place on the foyer wall where he always braces himself to pull on his shoes.

Everything that's happened in the past five years has happened, at least in part, inside this house.

…

It's seven months after Alex's mother's second inauguration, and Henry is wishing he had never even heard the word "credenza." Then he wouldn't have to decide where to put one. Alex is arriving in half an hour to help him move it, but Henry still doesn't know where. Across from the fireplace, perhaps? But what if he wants to put a sofa there? Does he want a regular sofa, or a sectional? Should it go upstairs, in his study? Or should he leave room for bookcases?

He longs to be back on a beach, sipping something from a pineapple.

It’s been a long, glorious summer since Alex packed up his White House bedroom, called Henry, and asked, "Do you want to get the fuck off the continent?" They did Dubai first, then Lagos. Rio, for old time's sake. Buenos Aires, paper lanterns in moonlight and Alex flirting with the bartender for free drinks. June through August became a lovely blur: Alex asleep against his shoulder on the plane, Alex throwing his Portuguese phrase book out the window of a speeding car, sand in unmentionable places, Alex Alex Alex. Endless runways and half-arsed disguises, swimsuits that got smaller and smaller until they simply didn't wear them anymore. Falling in love, the sequel, with fresh suntans and all the time in the world.

And now here they are in Park Slope, where Alex is renting the second floor of a brownstone two blocks from Henry's.

It's practical, they agreed, to live in the same neighborhood before they live at the same address. They've scarcely gotten a chance to date the normal way yet– if it can be called "normal" when their combined security teams are headquartered in an empty apartment down the street. Still, Henry wants this to last.

They've sprinted headlong into everything so far, but now he wants move slowly, in delicious increments. He wants to savor nights, minutes, firsts, to covet them and then let them dissolve on his tongue, like the sugar cubes he snuck off his gran's filigreed tea trays when he was small. He wants a life.

He wants someone to tell him where to put this damned credenza.

It's a vintage Broyhill Brasilia piece, walnut with clever brass drawer pulls. June helped him pick it out when she was in town with meeting her editor, but she never gave him any advice on where it should go. He hasn't ever been allowed to decide where furniture should go before.

So, it’s...there, in the center of the empty living room, the first piece in the entire house.

“Maybe you could start with a rug or two,” says Alex from the foyer.

Henry turns to find him with his keys in one hand and a paper bag in the other, smiling in a beam of mid-morning light, and, ah. Yes. There it is. That sweet, sharp gasp of nerves. The half second when he forgets how to use his mouth. If he knows nothing else, at least one certainty remains, which is that seeing Alex Claremont-Diaz in the flesh will always do this to him.

Alex in a photo is handsome, but Alex in life is a symphony. He’s refracted light with a cherry cola chaser. He’s got a Fibonacci jawline and a troublemaker smile and thick forearms built for posing in doorways with his sleeves rolled and thumbing corks out of champagne bottles. The first time Henry ever told Pez about him, he said, “God, but he’s lethal.” It’s only worse once you get to know him.

“Weird place for a credenza,” Alex comments. He kisses Henry’s cheek, then passes him a warm bundle wrapped in parchment paper. “Hope you like sausage-egg-and-cheese.”

“I don’t know where to put it.”

“Sandwich goes in your mouth, typically.”

“The credenza.”

“Ohhh, right,” Alex says, pretending to have just caught on. He winks. Henry sighs theatrically but accepts a second kiss, on the lips this time. “Why don’t you just put it right here?”

He points to his left, where a blank wall stretches from the front door to the foot of the stairs. It does, upon closer inspection, appear to be the exact right size.

“Oh,” Henry says.

This is where they overlap. Where he ends and Alex begins. Great gooey puddle of feelings, meet course of action; endless burning energy, meet point of focus. Agonies, meet your most obvious, most natural, most inevitable conclusions. It’s frightening sometimes for a person like Henry, who has spent his entire life pedaling his agonies about like baguettes in a posh little bicycle basket. What is he to do with them now?

Yes," Henry concedes, "I suppose I could," and Alex laughs.

...

It's the summer of 2022. Henry has opened his third shelter, and Alex has just finished bulldozing his first year at NYU Law.

A few boxes of books still wait at Alex's place, but otherwise, he lives in Henry's brownstone now. Their brownstone. A UT pennant beside a Chelsea scarf on the living room wall. A fridge full of Topo Chico and Bulmers. Two pairs of shoes by the front door, brown Barker derbies and Reebok trainers. Nobody could mistake it for anyone else's.

It's their first Chore Sunday (Alex's idea), and Henry has put the last of the laundry in the dryer. He's in the kitchen doorway, watching Alex unload the dishwasher.

Alex once told Henry the type of man he's typically attracted to: tall, broad-shouldered, pretty eyes, a little haunted. Bit of attitude and a smile that makes you curious. For Henry, it's never been so simple. He liked boys in his classes because they bothered with the assigned readings and fancied one of Philip's awful Eton friends because he could sail and smelled of cinnamon. The only thing all his Oxford boys had in common was that they didn't know how to speak to him. He's never had a type, and he's always been sure Alex was singular, anyway. Alex is unlike anyone he's ever met before or since.

But here, now, watching Alex bend to remove a salad bowl from the bottom rack, he is confronted with the hard truth. All those boys did, actually, share one trait.

"Are you gonna help me with this," Alex says without even an investigatory glance over his shoulder, "or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?"

...

It’s Christmas 2022, their first since Alex officially moved in, and Henry is going to make a yule log if it kills him.

Perhaps he’s been too ambitious. He’s rather new to all. Growing up, he was rarely permitted in the kitchens, and he concentrated his uni diet on fast food and takeaway. He can make toast and boil an egg, and he’s got a deft hand with the coffee percolator and a gin swizzle from time to time. He knows about food– the finest foods, actually, he’s yet to meet an Englishman who can select a better brie– but he never learned to cook, until recently.

Recently, as in when Alex became too fanatically involved in his second-year coursework to remember to feed himself.

It began with force-feeding Alex a bacon butty twice a week. Henry’s arms suffered little constellations of grease burns, but bacon was easy. And those faded, so they didn’t deter him for long. Curiosity piqued, he taught himself the basics of pasta, how one can simmer almost anything with garlic and onion and butter and it will taste good over noodles. It bolstered his confidence enough to truly commit, and now, between hours at the shelters and video calls with his mum, he watches tutorial after tutorial on how to brown butter and roast chicken. Only half of what he makes turns out the color it’s meant to, but he loves it.

He loves walking to the market on the corner and hunting down specific ingredients from the family recipes June sends him. In fact, it’s become such a regular pastime that the paparazzi have cottoned on, which is why his mother finally forced his security team to hire an actual body double. Now some bloke named Angus with his height and build and nearly the same face goes on diversionary strolls while Henry peruses jarred chilies.

With all his independent studying, he was certain he could manage a dessert. He wanted to do something impressive, since they’ve convinced their families to let them host Christmas dinner. Only, his sponge has gone all wrong, and if he’s learned anything from Bake Off, he knows it’s not meant to have cracked in five places when he tried to roll it up. Paul Hollywood would have him pilloried.

“Think you might’ve left it in too long?” Oscar asks from across the kitchen island. He’s wearing his white elephant prize, a sweatshirt airbrushed with the slogan YOU CAN’T SPELL CONSTITUTION WITHOUT TITS. Inexplicably, Henry’s own mother brought that one. “Lookin’ kinda dry there.”

“I appreciate that you are trying to be helpful,” Henry enunciates, “but if you say one more word I may start crying, and then we’ll both lose some respect for me.”

Later, when Pez has persuaded him to “call it, mate, put it out of its misery,” he carries his disgraced platter of ganache and cake and marzipan out into the living room and lets everyone go at it with spoons. The house feels full to bursting, and not just because of the Christmas crackers. There are all three of Alex’s parents, Henry’s mum, June and Nora, Bea and Pez, Shaan and Zahra on speakerphone, occasionally an awkward Philip and Martha via FaceTime, and, because he had nowhere else to go for the holiday, Angus.

(“I don’t like him,” Alex muttered when Henry suggested inviting his own body double to Christmas dinner.

“Why not?”

“Because he looks exactly like you, but I find him deeply unattractive, and that freaks me out.”)

Ellen tells everyone the story of the year Alex got his first real bike for Christmas and knocked out his two front teeth by Boxing Day, which prompts Catherine to recite eight-year-old Henry’s letter to Father Christmas, in which he requested a leather-bound journal and a holiday to East Wittering so he could gaze at the sea. Bea pushes Henry behind the upright piano, and he takes requests for an hour. It only ends when Pez rewrites half the lyrics to “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” to be about his own lactose intolerance. No one wants to follow “tidings of Lactaid and soy.”

After the third round of mulled wine, when Alex’s parents have called their drivers and his mum has retired to the guest room, June and Nora find themselves under the mistletoe. Everyone whoops and whistles until Nora finally pulls June in by her Christmas-light necklace and kisses her to a round of applause. June's cheeks turn red, but she looks pleased as anything.

"I can't believe it took this long for y'all to finally kiss." Alex says, to which Pez bursts into laughter. "What?"

"Alex," he says fondly. He drains his glass and pecks Alex on the forehead. "You gorgeous, stupid little turnip."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Pez just shakes his head and strolls off to the kitchen.

"Wait," Alex says.

He frowns, like he does when he's trying to recall something incredibly minute and specific from his torts textbook. Then, suddenly, a light goes on, and his own mug is clunking on the lamp table, and he's running off after Pez.

"Pez, what's that supposed to mean?"

...

It's late morning the summer before Alex's last year of law school, 2023, and Alex is the first word out of Henry's mouth.

Truthfully, that's how he begins most mornings. On a Monday morning five time zones away, "Alex" pitched low to the screen of his phone. On a Friday when Alex's early lecture is cancelled, "Alex" in F major, muffled in the pillow as his body moves and the day stretches out before them. Half three the night before an exam, a hoarse "Alex," followed by, "turn the bloody light off and come to bed."

This morning, it's because David is barking at the door. A rainstorm is brewing, and if jet lag didn't have Henry dead under the bedclothes, the gray gloom would. Alex was the one who surfaced from sleep half an hour ago and blearily ordered three entire pancake breakfasts from some 24-hour diner a few neighborhoods over. He should have to get up and answer the door.

“Alex.” Henry mumbles, turning over.

Alex has got the quilt tugged up so high he’s only a shock of wild curls on white linens.

“Nnnghh,” Alex groans from the depths.

“Breakfast is here,” Henry says. The doorbell helpfully rings again. David howls.

Alex’s face appears, pouting. There’s a crease from the pillow down one of his cheekbones, a comet’s tail in a constellation of freckles. “Can you get it?”

Henry rolls his eyes but smiles. Inevitable.

He drags himself out of bed and pulls on the joggers and hoodie from last night’s flight. It’s not until he feels the breeze on his ankles as he descends the stairs that he realizes they’re Alex’s, not his.

On their doorstep, a pink-haired delivery girl is looking bored under her bicycle helmet.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Henry says. He fishes a crumpled bill out of Alex’s pocket. “For your trouble.”

The girl pulls a face.

“Got any real money?” she asks. Her accent reminds him a bit of Alex’s mum.

He blinks down at her hand, which is holding a twenty-pound note. “Ah. Sorry again. Er.” He snatches his wallet out of the bowl on the credenza and gives her all the American dollars he has.

“She’s gone, Davey,” Henry says afterward to David, who’s now fretfully circling the living room. “You’ve protected us from another fearsome home invader. Well done.”

He lets David out into the back garden to do his business, then carries the food upstairs. Shockingly, Alex is awake and propped up against the headboard.

“I’m getting too old for red-eye flights,” Alex says, rubbing his eyes.

“Love, you’re twenty-five,” Henry reminds him. He deposits the bag on the nightstand, and Alex wastes no time tearing through the plastic and tucking in to his breakfast. “And I’m older than you.”

“Yes, you are. But like... I get why we have to go to Philip’s kids’ christenings. The cousins, though?” He sets to work smothering his pancakes in syrup. “I mean, at least my cousins would stack their baptisms. One and done, baby.”

Henry opens his mouth, prepared to answer with one of a thousand things. That the tabloids will have even more of a field day than usual if he stops doing his chores, that there will always be a church dedication or a swan upping or an appointment for a top hat fitting, that he’ll always be obligated to have one foot in London and one day they’ll have to choose where to settle down. It’s far from the first time they’ve had this conversation.

But then Alex shovels a massive bite of pancakes into his mouth and says, “Anyway, I love you. Do you wanna have June and Nora over tomorrow? We can play Mario Party again. I wanna see them get in a fistfight. Oh, and my dad’s in town next week, and he said to tell you he’s bringing that book you asked about–”

And that’s when Henry knows: He doesn’t ever want to go back.

...

It’s the end of spring 2024, and Henry is not eavesdropping, per se. He excused himself to answer a call from Shaan, which really could not be avoided. Shaan has taken to his new life as a househusband with predictable aplomb, and most of his calls these days involve Henry getting to talk to a baby who is clearly destined to become prime minister. He simply can’t send that to voicemail.

It’s the first time they’ve had room in the schedule for his mother to visit since Alex accepted his law job, which Henry understands very little about but has been assured is the most strategic next step for Alex’s career long game. When Henry left the room, Alex was still trying to explain it to Catherine. It all sounds terribly prestigious.

He is just returning to the sitting room with a fresh pot of tea when he hears his name from around the corner.

“–and the next morning Henry and Arthur vanished,” his mother is saying, “and when Uncle Algie called, I told him that Henry couldn’t go on the annual pheasant hunt because he was violently ill, but actually Arthur had taken him to Rome for two weeks on the set of that go on ridiculous car heist film he was working on, the one with, oh, what’s his name–“

“Jason Statham,” Alex says promptly, through wheezing laughter.

“That’s the one!”

“Loved that movie,” Alex says. “I can’t believe Henry got to be on set.”

“It was all Arthur’s idea, but he was right to do it. Uncle Algie is a dreadful bore, and Henry despises his son. Guilford. Did you meet Guilford at the wedding?”

“Henry made sure I avoided it.”

“Yes, that’s for the best,” Catherine says daintily. “He has matured into an absolute dickhead.”

Henry wishes he was in the room to see the way Alex sputters out, “Oh my God.” Alex always forgets that Catherine went to uni and married a commoner from Sheffield.

And then Alex sighs and says, “When Henry and I get married–”

Henry manages to recover the teapot before he drops it.

It’s not a surprise to hear Alex mention marriage. They’ve been sorting it out for years: political logistics and Alex’s child-of-divorce anxiety and a thousand questions about a royal wedding neither of them actually wants to have. He’s already bought an engagement ring, even, and judging by how tetchy Alex gets whenever Henry tries to put his underwear away for him, he’s not the only one.

But it is the first time he’s heard Alex mention it to his mother. He dropped it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if he’s been talking to her about marrying Henry for years. Henry supposes it’s possible he has been. Is this why Alex had tea with her in London last month and told Henry he wasn’t invited? Have they been conspiring?

They’re discussing hypothetical guest lists now, which cousins secretly hate one another and who wore an inappropriately large fascinator to whose birthday tea, but Henry isn’t listening anymore. He’s thinking of a cafe table in Rome, his dad waving over a second round of gelato.

In his memory, he’s nine years old, and his father is saying, Whoever you marry, Henry, make sure they think your mum is a laugh, because she is. She really is.

He clears his throat and finally rounds the corner. “Tea, anyone?”

...

It’s 2024, and nobody knows they’re engaged.

Granted, they’ve only been engaged for about three hours, but Henry is curious to see how long they can go. It feels nice to keep a secret that doesn’t have to be a secret. It’s more that they’re keeping it like a pet, or something especially beautiful from the garden that they’ve coaxed into a jar.

A record is spinning on the turntable, one of Alex’s, maybe the Joni Mitchell he borrowed from Bea. They’ve shoved their phones under the couch cushions and ordered a pizza the size of the moon, and now they’re sitting in the center of the living room floor, demolishing it. They kiss, then eat more pizza, then get distracted kissing again. Henry licks a streak of pepperoni grease from Alex’s forearm, which is a fantasy he didn’t know he had until he’s living it. They tangle up on the rug, and Henry decides he’ll take Alex sailing next weekend, or even out to the edge of the river, just to see him against a horizon.

Four-nearly-five years in, the main thing he’s learned is that Alex is a world without end. All Henry wants is to go on with him forever. To keep finding new favorite parts, to keep turning things over and studying their soft bellies and finding the best bits.

So, he will.

...

It snows on New Year’s Eve 2024. Alex looks out the window and shrugs off his coat.

The Young America Gala may be no longer, but Nora, June, and Pez aren’t to be stopped from throwing a New Year’s party, especially now that Pez has gotten his own part-time flat in the city. They’re the three fates of New York City’s holiday social circuit: birth (June, managing invitations), life (Pez, topless), and death (Nora, also topless).

“What if,” Alex says, turning to Henry on the foot of the stairs, “we don’t go to the party?”

“Nora will murder me,” Henry says. “She told me she’s not afraid to do that now that I’ve given up my title.”

“Murder is still a crime even if you’re not officially a prince.”

“Yes, but she said, quote,” he puts on his best American accent, “They can’t put me in the Tower anymore. Who’s gonna arrest me now? Mr. Bean?”

“Why don’t we just send Angus? It’s dark. Maybe she won’t notice.”

“Where’s your double, then?”

“We live in New York, I’m sure I can find a male model somewhere.”

“As always, sounding the very bass string of humility.”

“Is that fucking Shakespeare?”

“Henry IV.”

“I’m gonna give you a wedgie, you fucking nerd.”

In the end, it doesn’t take much to convince Henry to stay in. Lately, it never does. Alex texts June a flimsy excuse, and they toe off their shoes and relax out of their button-downs.

Henry does have to admit he’s exhausted, in the way that one only can be on the last day of the year, when every other day of the year piles way up behind it. It’s been a big one: Alex’s first law job, the endless press about Henry’s decision to surrender his title, the engagement, Bea’s wedding, the incident with the croquet mallets and the Dutch ambassador at Bea's wedding.

Sometimes Alex jokes that they squeezed it all into one calendar year because no headline can stick if there's another next week, but it's only half a joke. They've been bone-tired for months.

"I'm surprised you're the one who wants to stay home," Henry says. "I remember a young lothario who lived to ruin people's lives on New Year's Eve."

"Ruin?" Alex says. "That's not how I remember it."

"It certainly felt that way at the time."

They drift to the kitchen, past all the traces of the year. The dried flowers, the new scuffs on the floorboards. The box of bound manuscripts of Henry's first finished poetry-ish short-fiction-ish essay-ish collection. The holiday cards from senators and diplomats and old Texas friends, topped off with Alex's favorite of Rafael Luna and his astonishingly fit partner in matching Christmas jumpers. Henry would think Raf had been forced into it if it hadn't come with a case of beer and a note of thanks for letting him stay over the last time he visited Alex and had one too many tequila shots at drag bingo.

Alex withdraws a bottle of Clicquot from the refrigerator and says, "We're not washed, are we?"

“We're aging," Henry points out.

"That's right," Alex says, eyes immediately sparking at the opportunity. Henry preemptively sighs. "You're almost thirty."

"Almost twenty-eight is not almost thirty."

"It basically is. You're old. You'll be thirty a whole year before me. You'll be popping antacids and I'll be in the club, popping my p-"

"You're not even in the club now."

"I could be, I'm just choosing not to, because I don't want to deal with the snow. That's not aging, it's growth."

He slides Henry a glass of champagne and adds, "It's probably time for us to start talking about what's on your Do Before Thirty list, huh?"

Henry takes the glass and chooses going with Alex's bit over pointing out that he's entering his late twenties, not dying.

“I’ve done quite well on that front so far, actually,” he says. “Wrote a book. Started a nonprofit. Engaged to the love of my life.”

“Involved in an international sex scandal.”

“Shook the hands of all five Spice Girls.”

“Best dressed at the Met Gala.”

“Cried in the Water Lilies room at the MOMA.”

“Grew your hair out, then cut it all off.“

“Taught myself to make beef Wellington.”

“That one’s, uh, still in progress,” Alex hedges. Henry gives him an affronted look. “But, yeah! Definitely. And you got really good at scones.”

“That I did.”

“Right,” Alex agrees. “So what’s left? Streaking? Dropping acid? Having sex on our kitchen island?”

Henry takes a moment with that one.

“Having sex on our kitchen island?”

When the clock strikes the new year, the house is quiet. The timer on the light over the front stoop clicks off. The champagne bottle rests between two glasses on the edge of the sink, spent and sticky around the rim, a single soggy strawberry at the bottom of each flute. Miles out from their apartment, fireworks fight the snow over the East River, but in their kitchen in Park Slope, the only sounds are the two of them.

Henry, almost twenty-eight, presses his warm body to the cool marble and gets his midnight kiss.

...

“Do you know what today is?” Alex asks on a lukewarm September.

It’s 2025. He’s in the doorway of Henry’s study, where Henry has been all evening, answering emails.

“Hm? No.”

When Alex doesn’t immediately fill the silence, Henry looks up from his laptop screen.

“What is it?”

“Five years since the story broke,” Alex says.

It takes a moment for him to realize what story Alex means; there have been so many of them. But of course, he means that gigantic, terrible one. The one that changed their lives forever.

“Oh,” Henry says. He closes his laptop, leaning back in his chair and away from it. “Well. Hated that.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Zero out of ten. Would not do again.”

His tone is light and casual, but when he folds his arms across his chest, Henry can see his glasses in the front pocket of his flannel. It’s been months and months since the last time Alex didn’t feel confident enough to wear them.

For his part, Henry can remember much of that day, but not all of it. He remembers stirring sugar into his morning tea when Shaan walked in wearing an expression Henry had never seen before. He remembers Pez arriving like the cavalry in Gucci slippers, hustling Henry away from his handlers with the same graceful disdain he used to direct at Eton classmates who stared at them too much. He remembers Bea finding them in the music parlor and refusing to hear Henry’s apology, and he remembers Alex’s call and Alex’s arrival.

The funny part, though, is he can’t remember anything between Bea and Alex. He knows that Philip was involved, and there were stories on every news channel, and he spoke to his mother at some point. But the space in his memory where those hours belong is simply blank. His psychiatrist says it’s post-traumatic stress disorder, and Henry is inclined to agree, considering the two of them spent the entire following year recalibrating Henry’s anxiety and depression medication around the event.

Those hours will always be gone. There are things he will never get back.

Most of the time, though, when he thinks of that day, the second worst thing that's ever happened to him, he thinks of Alex's hand in his under a Buckingham Palace table. He remembers, clear as a bell, Alex's voice telling him they would survive it together. It happened to Alex too. It wasn't what they would have chosen, but it was what they received, and they've done their absolute bloody best with it.

He rises from his desk, crosses to the doorway, and gathers Alex up against his chest. Their size difference isn't that pronounced—Henry is taller but lean, Alex shorter but sturdy—but in moments like this, he's thankful for the way Alex's cheek perfectly aligns with the crook of his neck. He's grateful for how effortless it is to slip a kiss to Alex's temple.

Neither of them says anything else. It's all been said a thousand times, in speeches and through official statements and in the dark when it's only the two of them. It's enough to stand here in the center of the house, in the quiet, and let it hold their weight.

...

At the end of 2025, Henry has a bad day.

There's nothing specific that causes it. The days just happen like this sometimes, even with all the therapy and medication and supportive partnership and fulfilling creative projects in the world. There are other people, he supposes, who don't spend their lives waiting for the next bad day. He's had every bloody luxury but that one.

Alex comes home from work to find him curled up on the armchair in the study, staring out the window at the light-polluted night sky over the row of brownstones across the street.

“What are you doing?" Alex asks him.

"Looking for Orion," Henry deadpans.

Alex kneels on the rug in his tailored suit pants and rolled-up sleeves and rests his cheek on Henry's knee, the way he often does when Henry's in a mood. Henry's fingers slide into his curls. They've grown a bit longer in the past few months. Lately. Alex looks quite like he did when they met, except for the glasses and the stubble dusting his jaw.

“I’m tired of big law, “ Alex confesses. It would appear he’s in a mood too. “I know it’s only been a year and a half, but...I kind of hate it.”

Henry contemplates that, along with the dark circles around Alex’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” Henry tells him.

Alex looks at him like he did in that hotel room in Paris the first time they woke up together, like the only thing he knows for sure about what he’s being offered is that he wants it completely. It’s an intimidating look to receive, but it’s only ever improved Henry’s life in the end.

He kisses Henry’s knuckle, just below his ring.

“I have some ideas.”

...

In February 2026, a flu sweeps through Park Slope. Neither Alex nor Henry can agree on who gave it to whom first– Henry knows it was Alex, since he’s been up late consulting with his mum about a voting rights bill in Texas, and his immune system always suffers when he gets upset about Texas—but regardless, they’re trapped in the brownstone together for a week. At least Alex doesn’t have to work through his illness the way he usually does, since he resigned from his job last month.

Somewhere around day five, Henry realizes it’s the longest consecutive amount of time they’ve both been home in years. They always seem to be leaving or returning: rushing off to appearances, climbing out of security caravans in half-undone suits, meeting Cash at the curb at three in the morning with bags over their shoulders. It’s nice, in a way, to get reacquainted with this home they’ve built together.

While Alex naps, Henry paces the entire floorplan.

The first floor, with its long living room and the original beams and mantelpiece, which Henry had restored before he moved in, because he always has been precious about the history of things. Then the kitchen and the deep blue cabinets and the wide back window over the knotty pine dining table handed down from Alex's dad. Upstairs, on the second floor, the guest bedroom with all of his mum's preferred hand creams in the attached washroom and the sitting room with the shelf of swan figurines Pez started collecting years ago in a dramatic fit of June-related yearning. One more flight up to the top floor, with his study and Alex's office and the hall with their photo from Shaan and Zahra's wedding and, at the far end, their bedroom.

The bedroom is his favorite part of the house, and not only for the obvious reasons, no matter how much Alex tries to imply otherwise with suggestive eyebrows. He loves the high ceiling and the chipped plaster medallion of roses at the center. They picked out the bed together, and every morning that he wakes up in it, he gets to turn over and see Alex's loose pens and glasses wipes scattered atop the dresser and know that this, his life, is still real. Perhaps he likes the room best because it feels separated from every other part of the house, lifted up and bundled in, which is the first time he's ever been safe in a tower.

Most importantly, of all three levels of bay windows jutting from the redbrick front of the brownstone, only the one in the bedroom has a seat. They've filled it with velvet pillows and mossy green cushions, and once or twice a year, on one of their vanishingly rare slow days, Alex will climb in and fall asleep.

That's where he finds Alex when he eases into the room with a mug of soup in each hand. He recognizes the quilt wrapped around him: they slept under it in Alex's childhood twin bed the night Ellen won her second term, and then Alex crammed it into his suitcase and brought it back to Washington.

He stirs as Henry sets the mugs down on the dresser.

“Thanks,” he says in a hoarse voice.

Henry nudges in beside him, gingerly removing Alex's glasses from beneath his elbow before they get crushed.

"You know," Henry says, "I chose this house for the bay windows."

Alex blinks at him, fully awake now. "Really?"

"I thought you might like them. You always talked about the one you grew up with. Hoped they might make the place feel like home."

Alex smiles. "They do."

Henry looks at him in his quilt, sleep-mussed and flushed from fever and overdue for a shave, and he remembers that night in the yellow house in Austin. Before Alex led them back to his old bedroom, he peeled up the cushion in the living room window seat and showed Henry pages of elementary school scribbles still hidden there. And he told Henry that he thought once of hiding a picture there too, if only he'd had the nerve to tear it out of his sister's magazine.

Love, Henry has found, has a way of growing backward. You fall in love with a person in the present, and then every person you've ever been gets to fall in love with every past version of them. A sleep-deprived Georgetown freshman falls in love with an Oxford sophomore who's testing out undoing the top button of his shirts sometimes. A ruddy-cheeked teenager with his nose in a book loves a backtalking lacrosse captain. A boy comes home from school with perfect marks and sees a picture in a magazine, and the boy from the picture pauses on a palace staircase.

The crux of it is, he loves every version of Alex to ever sleep under that quilt. Everything else is mostly set dressing

"I'm having a thought," Henry says.

"Congratulations," Alex deadpans automatically. Then, "Tell me."

"This life we have here," Henry says. "This house. It's good, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course it is."

"But we could have a good life somewhere else too."

Alex frowns. "Like where?"

"Somewhere... farther from everything, maybe? Somewhere we could slow down, and things could be quieter, and you could do the work you want to do. I think I could use some time away from it all, honestly. Maybe I wouldn't even have to have a body double anymore."

Alex considers that for a long moment. They both know where Henry means, even if he doesn't say it. Besides New York and DC, and London on its best days, there's really only one place Alex would seriously consider living. They've joked about it before, but Henry's always thought it might be nice to spend a few years somewhere completely different than he's used to. A place where he could see the stars.

At long last, Alex sniffs and says, "You're gonna fire Angus? He was just starting to grow on me.”

...

“If you don't wake Bea up, you're gonna have to hear about her back spasms in the morning,” says a voice that is most certainly not Heath Ledger's.

Henry startles awake to find Alex leaning over his shoulder from behind the loveseat, curls everywhere. The room is dark, and the end credits are rolling.

"You're not home until tomorrow," Henry mumbles.

"Moved up my flight," Alex says. He's so close to Henry's face, he's gone a bit cross-eyed. His lips bounce off the tip of Henry's nose. "I missed you."

It's only been a few days, but the truth is Henry missed him too. He supposes he should be used to empty beds and time differences by now, especially when they began that way, but he suspects he'll never stop waiting at the door. You know what will be the best part of getting married?" Henry asks Alex.

"The line dancing."

"The way I won't have to miss you nearly as often."

Alex softens, then maneuvers himself over the armrest until he's draped across Henry's lap. David climbs on top of him and curls up on Alex's left buttock.

Letting go of the house has been hard, but this particular decision was easy, once they finally said it out loud. A gradual, careful withdrawal from public life, at least for a few years. They’ve given so much of themselves to the world and had the privilege of feeling a legacy take shape beneath them, but they need rest too.

It was June who convinced them, actually. Even now, there are certain things only June can say to Alex. Early in the spring, when she was finally transitioning out of her speechwriting job for Raf, she called Alex from Colorado and told him she was moving to New York to be closer to Nora and Pez, and she wanted to sublet the brownstone. When Alex pointed out that he was still living in it, she said, "We both know you've been looking at farmhouses in Austin for six months, it's time to shit or get off the pot."

(Henry loves his particular collection of Americans. They truly do say what's on their minds.)

The new house is beautiful. Henry's only seen it in person once, but the previous owner was a reclusive tech executive with shockingly good taste, so Architectural Digest featured it last year. He's had the article open in a tab on his phone for two months, and he scrolls through all those perfectly lit photos twice a day, getting high on possibilities. Lazy mornings in the wide sunroom, midnight dives in the lake. It's easy to imagine Alex mellowing into a brisket-smoking, tamale-rolling Texas dad out there, and it's just as easy to imagine them basking under cedar trees until their mid-thirties and then deciding they're ready for another round. The wonderful thing is, they can take their time either way.

It isn't a full release from their obligations, but it is the next step after formally relinquishing his title. More boundaries, more of their own rules about what they will and won't do. No royal wedding, but a private ceremony at the lake house and a honeymoon unpacking boxes. A job for Alex at a smaller firm where he can finally get his hands in the earth. A quieter life.

"You're right," Alex says. "You know what else is gonna be awesome about married-people life? We can have actual, real-life date nights. Just imagine it: free refills and bottomless chips and salsa."

"Oh, I've got another one," Henry says. “You can finally show me how to navigate an H-E-B."

“Baby, don’t talk dirty to me in front of company.”

“Please,” says a groggy voice from the couch.

“Hi, Bea.”

“Time’s it?”

“One in the morning.”

“Ugh.”

Grumbling and tugging a blanket around herself, Bea wakes Pez and the two of them head off to wash up before bed. The odds of Pez returning to the couch for the night or availing himself of their bed so that Alex has to sleep on the couch are just about even, based on six years of Pez falling asleep at their house. It’s a comfort to know that when they leave the brownstone and June moves in, Pez will still be making himself at home in it.

Downstairs, surrounded by boxes, Alex crawls out of Henry’s lap and slides a large shopping bag out from behind the loveseat. “I brought you something.” Alex says.

Inside the bag is a box made of the sort of heavy cardboard that augurs something expensive. He imagines Alex hurling his patched-up rough-ridden leather duffle into the overhead compartment of the airplane and then sliding this bag under the seat so carefully that there’s not even a crease in the paper.

He takes the lid off the box and unwraps layers of tissue paper to reveal a hat. A cowboy hat. It’s made of gorgeous, thick felt, with a cattleman crown and a satin lining. A nearly identical one has hung in Alex’s office since he moved in, though Alex’s is midnight black and this one is a warm, pale sand. Where Alex’s hatband has a small gold buckle, this one has a silver pin in the shape of an English rose.

“It’s a Stetson,” Alex says. When Henry looks up at him, his cheeks have darkened faintly. “I know it’s not really your thing, but you ride horses, and it’s kind of a big deal where I’m from to get your first Stetson, so I wanted to be the one to give it to you since you’re about to be an honorary Texan. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want–“

“I love it,” Henry interrupts.

Alex pauses, then breaks out in a grin. “You do? I was afraid you’d think it was a joke.”

“It’s the least ridiculous hat I’ve ever been given,” Henry tells him. “It didn’t even come with a matching tailcoat.”

“Nah, but maybe we can get you some Wranglers,” Alex says.

“Some chaps, perhaps.”

“I just told you not to talk dirty to me.”

Henry laughs and kisses him over the open box, thinking of the next year of their lives. Sunday morning fry-ups, swimming holes, a wedding cake that doesn’t wind up on the floor. Tomorrow he needs to ask if Alex checked on the bakery while he was in Austin, and if they have any more packing tape, and whether Amy’s daughter has gotten her flower girl dress yet.

Tonight, though, Alex is home a day early, and the house is making all its soft, familiar night-time sounds around them. No one sees in through the windows. No one comes in through the gate.

“Henry,” says Alex.

“Alex,” says Henry.

“You and me,” Alex says.

“You and me,” Henry agrees.

End.

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kaeyaphile · 1 year

Text

“this broken soul” — scaramouche × f!reader

word count: 4,659 — rating: E (explicit content)

summary: you’ve been avoiding him, and he needs to know why.

author’s note: if you’d told me a month or so ago that i’d write an almost 5,000 word smutfic featuring scaramouche, i would’ve laughed in your face... but here we are! i dedicate this fic to one of my most beloved and beautiful besties, @gixxie, because she’s absolutely amazing and is the #1 scaramouche simp!!! i really hope that i did him justice, and i hope y’all enjoy – this is only my second ever smutfic that i’ve written and/or posted online! EDIT 12/15/2022: i wrote this before the most recent archon quest (archon quest interlude chapter: act iii – inversion of genesis) and before he was (finally) released as a playable character, so... his characterization may be questionable!

warnings ﹠ tags: smut, porn with plot, degradation, dirty talk, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, scaramouche being scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warning honestly, vulnerable!scaramouche, emotional!reader, reader is very subtly implied to be plus-sized, reader has afab!genitalia ⋄ (read it on ao3)

The smell of incense and the crackling of the fire in the large marble fireplace greet you as you step inside the mansion in the adepti teapot realm you call home, shutting the doors as quietly as possible behind you and releasing a soft sigh of relief when there is no noise to imply you’ve been heard.

Slowly, you make your way across the main area of the house to the room that was designated as the library and office, slipping inside silently and quickly sliding the doors shut behind you.

Inhaling deeply, you march over to the desk to begin sorting through the large pile of letters that had accumulated during your absence.

You’ve been traveling with Paimon, helping the Aranara in Sumeru and avoiding… well, avoiding multiple things. Searching for your brother, your various promises and responsibilities, and most importantly a certain short-tempered Anemo wielder.

Coming out of the haze of your thoughts, you notice the messy stack of books that had undoubtedly been made by some of your numerous guests and you huff as you grab them and go to put them away.

It wasn’t that Scaramouche had done anything wrong per se, it was more the issue of you being so naturally affectionate and showing it via physical touch and honest words… and worrying that it was becoming too much for him, or too annoying. Or both.

It hasn’t been that long since he’s joined your group of friends… only about two months, though could you honestly say that the two of you were friends?

He was so hot and cold, at times he was standoffish and rude, snapping at everyone and everything and it was during those times that you swore he hated you… but then the next time you’d come across him or have him join you while adventuring, he’d look at you with an unreadable expression and allow you to touch him without bristling, especially when you two were alone, and the back and forth of it confused you.

You’ve been oddly drawn to him ever since you had first met him in Inazuma, his voice sticking in your head and repeating his taunting words and the vision of him sauntering towards you with that insufferable smirk wouldn’t leave your mind…

In truth, your feelings have only gotten stronger as time had passed, especially after he’d reluctantly joined your adventuring team and you’d inevitably gotten to know him better.

If you are being honest, the sexual tension between you two could likely be cut with a knife and served on a platter… in addition to there being purer, deeper romantic feelings present.

It’s far too early to call it “love”, but it is certainly well on its way to becoming that dreaded word… on your end, at least.

You can feel your face heat up in response to the direction your thoughts have gone and as you shove the last book onto the bookshelf you lean forward and bonk your forehead against the hardwood in an effort to clear your mind.

In your distraction you haven’t noticed that the subject of your thoughts has snuck into the room and is moving towards you with purpose.

A pale hand suddenly slams down to grasp onto the shelf right behind you, the other hand gripping your waist and spinning you to face the intruder.

Purple eyes meet yours, anger making them almost burn from their intensity as he leans in so his face is mere inches away from yours.

Gasping, you shrank back against the bookshelf. “Scaramouche? What–?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” He bites out, eyes narrowing slightly and the fingers at your waist twitching in what you assumed to be frustration.

Blinking at him while you try to gather your thoughts, you can’t help but notice that he isn’t wearing his usual amount of layers – just the tight black high-collared shirt and his shorts and sandals rather than his familiar complex ensemble – and your face heats at the realization that so much of his skin was now visible to you.

Swallowing to try and moisten your suddenly dry mouth, you’re sure that your face openly shows how flustered you are.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve been busy but I haven’t been–”

“Cut the bullshit. Do you think I’m an idiot? It’s not like you’ve been subtle about it, and it’s pissing me off,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he moves the hand that has been pinning you to the bookshelf to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin of your nape.

Eyes widening at his actions and words, you clear your throat and square your shoulders.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Scaramouche, but–”

“Why are you calling me that?” He snaps, scowling at you with narrowed eyes.

“Calling you what? Your name?” You reply, eyes darting away from his prying gaze.

It was true that you haven’t necessarily been subtle, but you had assumed that he wouldn’t take much notice of the lack of attention and affection that he seemed to find barely tolerable – this vehement reaction was very unexpected and it was leaving you reeling.

He lets out an angry sigh before his fingers grasp your chin and force you to meet his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He demands, eyes flickering over your face as his lips turn down into a slight pout.

Glancing down at his mouth, you unconsciously wet your lips and his gaze immediately hones in on it.

Gasping softly, your mouth gapes a bit in surprise as you observe how his burning purple eyes darken as he focuses on your mouth, leaning ever so slightly closer and tilting his head as if entranced.

“Scaram–mmph!”

Lips pressing to yours cut you off, a low groan escaping him when you immediately reciprocate.

Eyes fluttering shut as you breathe him in, you bring your hands up to scratch your fingers through the coarse hair of his undercut.

Scaramouche growls then, shoving you up against the bookshelf as he presses as much of his body as he can to your own, the hand on your waist now groping at your soft skin.

Whimpering, your eyes shoot open and you tear your mouth from his to gasp for air as he starts roughly kissing down your jaw.

“Don’t lie, you were avoiding me. Because of this?” He whispers, lips and warm breath brushing the shell of your ear.

Exhaling with a whine, you nod before his lips press to your own again for a brief moment before he pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip.

He smirks at your dumb expression, tugging you over to the table in the middle of the room and reminding you that he was much stronger than he looked by easily lifting you up to sit on the edge, pushing the letters off and out of the way.

Gasping indignantly, you open your mouth to reprimand him but he takes the opportunity to kiss you again, sliding his tongue in your mouth with a muffled groan.

You can’t help but to close your eyes as your tongue glides against his, feeling that insufferable smirk of his against your lips.

Sliding his hands down to your thighs, he roughly pulls them apart so he can step between them and press his body to yours once again.

He chuckles at your resulting moan, slowly pulling back and licking his lips as if savoring the taste of you.

Your eyes flutter open as you unconsciously follow after him to chase his lips, his smirk growing at your resulting frustrated pout.

“You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid,” he teases, chuckling at your resulting scowl – but you didn’t deny it.

Before you could formulate a response, he grasps your hips and slides them towards him, making you yelp and slam your hands down on the table behind you to keep from collapsing.

Keeping his dark eyes locked with yours, he leans over you and slides his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tilting his head and tugging ever so slightly in question.

Biting your lip, you lift your hips in response, wiggling a little in impatience.

Inclining his head towards you, he pulls your pants off roughly and your arms give out as you collapse back down on the edge of the table, panting.

His hands tug at the hem of your shirt next as he bends over you, lips pressing bruising kisses to your neck as he slowly lifts it, fingertips tickling along the soft skin of your stomach.

Gasping, you reach between you and nudge his hands aside, practically tearing your shirt up and over your head to get rid of the offending garment.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He murmurs, chuckling lowly as he goes back to mouthing at your neck.

You whine and grab at his back as he bites down on your collarbone, his muscles flexing in response to the feeling of your fingernails digging into his skin as you jolt and cry out.

Groaning, he tears himself away from you to do a slow perusal of the skin that’s been bared to him.

You feel like you’re going to implode, the way his eyes manage to get even darker and his expression more severe in its blatant lust, and you jerk your hips up uncontrollably in response.

His eyes immediately flick down to where you’re soaked and burning for him and his throat bobs with a swallow before he looms over you, skimming his hand slowly down the curve of your waist before sliding a finger against the wetness of the fabric concealing you from him.

“Look at you, look at how wet you are – is this all for me?” He questions, voice gone rough from arousal.

Nodding and biting your lip, you can’t help but to grind up into his fingers.

“So needy,” he grunts, crouching down to nip at your inner thigh.

“Scara, I–!”

“Oh, we’re back to Scara now, hm?” He laughs harshly, making quick work of tugging your panties down and off your legs as he shakes his head at you.

“Scara, I’m sorry–!”

“You should be,” he interrupts you again, glaring up at you from between your legs.

You’re a desperate whimpering mess at this point, and you don’t manage to form a response before he runs his fingers up your inner thighs and jerks them open as much as your body will allow.

“Now be a good girl and say “please” and maybe I’ll give you what you want,“ he growls, brushing the tip a finger through your wetness.

“Please, Scara, I need you!” You whine, embarrassed at how needy you sound but also so turned on that you can’t bring yourself to care.

Smirking, he finally takes mercy on you and slowly slides a finger into you, eyes widening at the feel of your slick warmth.

You keen and writhe against the table when he slowly adds another finger and crooks them, expertly massaging a spot on your inner walls that makes you see stars and causes more heat to pool between your thighs.

“Look at you, getting all worked up over nothing! Your pretty pussy can barely handle my fingers – what a pathetic little thing you are,” he laughs mockingly, thrusting his fingers into you roughly.

Panting, you bite your lip and glance down to meet his eyes, silently begging him for more as your thighs tremble and your back arches.

Breath hitching at your desperation, he suddenly shoves his head between your thighs and licks a broad stroke through your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit before lightly grazing his teeth against it.

You wail, your walls contracting around his fingers as you feel like you’ve been hit by lightning as the tension snaps, little whines escaping you as your hips shudder and grind against his face.

Chuckling, he laps up your release as you ride out your high before getting up and looming over you, smirking at your fucked out expression.

“We’ve barely gotten started and already you’re being such a good little slut for me,” he murmurs, licking his lips suggestively when your eyes flutter open to blearily look at him.

You want to pinch yourself because you swear this has to be a dream, it is all happening so quickly and you’ve just had one of the best orgasms of your entire life but are somehow still so unbelievably horny for him.

His face is flushed and he still has some of your juices on his chin, but his eyes burn with the depth of his want for you as your gazes meet and he smirks, smug about having made you cum.

Glancing down and seeing the tented fabric of his shorts, you lift your still shaking legs to wrap around his waist and pull him into you, rolling your hips against his clothed cock and watching his face intently.

His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a strangled moan, back bowing and lips hovering over your own as he clutches at your hips and ruts into the warmth between your legs.

“Scara, I’m all yours – take me,” you whisper, reaching up to cup his cheeks and pull his head down to kiss him.

Jolting his head back just as your lips brush his, his eyes shoot open and he pants while looking at you incredulously.

You furrow your brows at his sudden change in attitude, your thumbs lightly brushing his cheekbones and you bite your lip, suddenly afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing.

After a moment of his eyes frantically scanning your expression – looking for what exactly, you weren’t sure – his hands slam down on either side of your head.

“Always so honest about your emotions,” he hisses, eyes becoming unreadable as he nips at your lips yet refuses to let you close the gap. “It’s really fucking infuriating, you know that?”

Huffing in exasperation to hide how his seemingly indignant response hurts your feelings, you glare up at him.

“Fine, then – can you just fuck me already, Kunikuzushi?”

He pulls back, smoldering eyes glaring into your own as he releases a shattered breath in response to you calling him that name.

“Oh, now you’re making demands of me?” He rasps, regaining his composure with a harsh thrust against your cunt.

Suddenly hit with a wave of irritation and frustration, you push your hands against his chest in an attempt to get him off of you.

“If you don’t want to, then nevermind,” you mutter, turning your head away to hide the “if you don’t want me” implied from your tone and expression.

Lunging to press your wrists down into the table above your head with one hand, he turns your head back towards him with the other, a deep scowl on his face.

“Why are you putting words into my mouth? What gives you the right to assume what I do or don’t want?”

You glare at him, trying to jerk your face out of his harsh grip which only makes his fingers dig into your jaw harder as he crowds you against the table with his body.

“Stop being such a fucking brat,” he growls as he presses quick, bruising kisses against your lips.

“Make me!” You snarl back at him, body writhing under his own.

He chuckles lowly before it morphs into him laughing loudly and mockingly as he observes your struggles.

“Gladly.”

Letting go of your face to swiftly pull down his shorts just enough to free his erection, he groans as he slides it between your folds.

“Fuck… this is my pussy, it belongs to me and only me, doesn’t it?”

Whimpering and nodding in response, your hands struggle to escape his grasp as you grind your hips against the tip of his cock, trying miserably to get it to catch in your soaking wet opening.

He shudders against you, grabbing your hip with his free hand to hold you still.

“No, no,” he chides, his signature smirk back on his lips. “Only good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been such a brat.”

“Scara, fuck, just take me!” You keen, so overwhelmed with frustration and pleasure that there are tears gathering in your eyes.

Scaramouche laughs, one that borders on a cackle, before he presses his lips against your temple.

“Are you crying? You want me that bad, huh? You’re so fucking pathetic, you did this to yourself you know,” he whispers roughly, tongue flicking out to run along the shell of your ear. “But don’t worry, I’ll take pity on you.”

He suddenly thrusts into you, bottoming out and leaving you a moaning and babbling mess as he holds himself still to allow you to adjust to his size.

“Oh Archons, please–!”

“Don’t pray to them, they can’t help you, pray to me,” he snarls, pulling out of you just enough for you to whine at the loss before roughly thrusting back inside and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Scara, Kuni, please – fuck – more, faster!”

He grants your request with a strangled moan, hips slamming into your own at such a desperate and brutal pace that you know there’s going to be bruises.

Leaning down so your foreheads are pressed together, you stare into each other’s eyes and pant as the sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the air.

The hand that has been keeping your wrists bound lets go, fingers instead curling into the sheets as he continues his merciless thrusts – eyes observing your every reaction hungrily.

“Kuni, feels s’good!” You sob, your now free arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and your legs tightening around his hips.

“F-fuck!” He whimpers, cock twitching against your walls and hips stuttering against you.

Your body feels like it’s melting, fingers carding through his hair to shakily push it out of his face so you can view the way his brow furrows as he grits his teeth.

“Say it,” he commands shakily, jerking your face up so he can stare into your eyes. “Say that you’re mine. My slut, my whore, my everything.”

“Anything and everything that I am is yours, Kunikuzushi,” you choke out with a sob, following up your declaration by tilting your hips and pressing your lips to his, gliding your tongue in and tasting him as he groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock.

His thrusts grow even more frantic and deep and you roll your hips up to meet his movements, your sweaty bodies writhing together as you fully succumb to each other.

“I’m gonna paint your insides,” he gasps into your mouth, sliding a hand down to rub your swollen clit. “I’m gonna fill you up–!”

Those words and the added stimulation flood your body with overwhelming heat and you wail as you are thrown over the edge, gushing around his cock as he delivers one last powerful thrust before spilling into you with a choked moan.

His trembling body slumps over yours and he buries his head in your shoulder, gasping for air as your bodies continue to twitch with the aftershocks.

After a few moments pass, Scaramouche slowly peels himself away from you, his eyes darting away from your unintentionally open, loving gaze as he slowly slides out of you with a quiet grunt.

Sighing at the loss of him, you inelegantly scoot forward to hop off the table, squeezing your legs together to keep his cum from trickling down your legs.

He snatches the clothes from where they are strewn on the floor and puts his shorts back on before turning to you and holding out your panties and trousers with a blank expression.

Your face feels hot from embarrassment at how drastically his attitude has changed from just a few moments ago and you reach out to grab your clothing, eyes searching him for a sign of… anything, but finding him to be totally unreadable.

Mortified, you turn to the side and shake out your pants, the realization of what had just happened finally hitting you. You haven’t even fully undressed, too engrossed and desperate for each other that you just… went at it like animals in heat.

You don’t notice when he turns and goes to the desk in the corner to grab the box of tissues and bring it to you, clearing his throat as his eyes drift to where your combined fluids were beginning to slowly trickle down your inner thighs.

Flinching at being torn from your downward spiral of second-guessing everything that has happened within the past hour, you look up and slowly reach out to take the box from him, being careful to not brush your fingers together – you aren’t sure where his mind is at and you don’t want to scare him off by being clingy.

“Thank you,” you breathe, pulling his gaze back up to your face and flashing him a quick smile before you turn away to clean yourself up as much as you can.

He turns and walks over to stand in front of the window to give you privacy, which you find very amusing considering what you had just been doing, but you can’t help but watch him out of the corner of your eye as he crosses his arms and seemingly becomes lost in though, his hair mussed and his lips still flushed from the plethora of bruising kisses.

Finding him attractive obviously wasn’t a new development, but it suddenly hits you with the beam of sunlight shining in through the window that was illuminating him just how… beautiful he is.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts and hurrying to pull your clothes back on, you take a deep breath and summon all the courage you possess.

He turns to look at you as you come to stand next to him, and you were hit once again by how pretty he is; the slope of his nose, his eyelashes, his–

“What are you looking at?” His voice, still a little rough from your activities, snaps you out of your admiration and you blink at him.

He’s staring at you with his brow raised, lips ever so slightly turned down.

“So pretty,” you whisper, eyes widening in panic when you realize that you’ve spoken your inner thoughts aloud.

Scaramouche blinks at you in disbelief, processing your words before letting out a short, humorless laugh.

“I can’t believe it, I actually fucked you dumb!” He snickers, but the smirk on his lips doesn’t reach his eyes.

You gape at him, mouth opening and closing as you try to figure out how to respond to his dismissive attitude.

He grasps your chin in his hand, making the decision of closing your mouth for you, and rolls his eyes.

Grabbing the hand holding your chin, you place soft kisses on his palm, staring into his eyes and pleading for him to understand how truthful you’re being.

Scowling, he wrenches his hand away from you, taking a step back and shaking his head.

“Scara, we need to talk ab–”

“Do we? I disagree,” he snaps, turning and stalking towards the door.

“Kunikuzushi,” you whisper in desperation, and he freezes in place as he’s reaching for the door handle.

“This whole situation started because I was avoiding you, and it made you angry and upset. And yet you’re about to go and do the exact same thing to me. How is that fair?” You demand, voice shaking from all of the emotions you’re trying to keep in check.

He slowly turns to face you, eyes narrowing.

“Life isn’t fair – what do you want from me?”

It’s like you’re talking to a different person, the man in front of you is not the man that railed you into oblivion and ruined you for all others just a minute ago. This man reminds you of a feral cat – suspicious, mistrustful, insecure…

Your hands are shaking, the anxiety over bearing your heart to him causing you to hesitate briefly.

“What do you want from me?” You snap back. “Is this what you wanted? Just a quick fuck? Is that really all I am to you? Some poor, pathetic sap who’s attention and affection makes you feel good about yourself?”

Scaramouche stood there staring at you, unmoving and unblinking, for what felt like ages.

“Okay, you know what – nevermind! You’re free to go, but honestly at this point I almost hope that you just never come back,” you scoff, eyes watering, throwing your hands up in the air and turning away so he can’t see you cry and so you don’t have to look at his stupid perfect face anymore.

All you hear is a faint whisper of fabric before he spins you around and cups your face in his hands, his mouth pressing a desperate, bruising kiss to your lips.

Gasping, you put your hands on his chest and shove him back, your embarrassment making you feel fragile and hostile.

“That isn’t an answer, Scara, and I’m not a mind reader so I can’t–”

“Everything,” he rasps, closing his eyes and nudging his forehead against yours.

“... what?” You furrow your brow, confused.

“You asked what I wanted from you. I answered. Everything. I want everything from you. I want you to be mine,” he whispers, warm breath brushing your lips when he follows up his statement with a shaking sigh.

Your bottom lip trembles as you try to keep your voice from cracking with emotion.

“If I am yours, then you have to be mine. I want everything from you, too. I want to kiss you, touch you, hold you, love you.”

He inhales shakily, opening his eyes.

“If you can’t tell that I’m already yours, that I’ve been yours since you aimed that fucking smile of yours towards me, then you’re an absolute fucking idiot.”

“It’s kind of hard to tell when you’re always so wishy-washy on whether you tolerate me or not, Scaramouche,” you respond, blinking at him innocently, his sudden reveal of his feelings giving you courage.

“What did I say about calling me that?” He growls, stepping closer to press himself against you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir – is Kunikuzushi acceptable then?” You simper, mimicking his usual smirk to the best of your ability.

His eyes widen and his cheeks and ears flush a faint pink as he grumbles, dropping his arms to wrap them around your waist.

“Keep it up and I’ll have to drag you to your bedroom and teach you a lesson, brat,” he growls, pressing his mouth to your ear.

You turn your head to press a kiss to his neck, grinning uncontrollably now as you both shift seamlessly back into the dynamic that had been created when he had gotten settled in your group – the usual snarky banter and the easy affection you give him comforting after the unsureness that was present just now.

“Is that a threat or a promise? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, pulling away to grasp your arm and drag you out of the room.

“Wait, what–?” You stammer, following him gracelessly.

“It seems that I still have to teach you some fucking manners, slut.”

Glancing back at you as he leads you through the door, the look in his eyes and his smirk makes your face heat.

“But you’ll be a good girl and cooperate with me, won’t you?”

You swallow, overwhelmed with all of the filthy thoughts that run through your mind before you shake your head to ground yourself.

It had required a lot of vulnerability and a rollercoaster of emotions, but you finally know your feelings are reciprocated… and as you let him take you to your room you realized that Scaramouche was about to show you just how much in long, excruciatingly wonderful detail.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin impact smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer smut #kayleigh.writes

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moonlezn · 9 months

Text

Try Hard II

punk bassist!jeno x female!reader genre: fluff wc: 2k part I - part III a/n: this is a bit longer than I'd planned and maybe there's too much chenji best friend agenda. I did it for me and my fellow chenji baddies. this is so cute and honestly i hope you read it well <3disclaimers: mentions of piercings, some swearing. i'm not sorry for having done these edits of jeno with a labret piercing.

[6:58am]

jisung: wake the fuck up jisung: we’re gonna be late jisung: cmon LOSER jisung: fr i don’t wanna come into your room jisung: i’m gonna lose my mind and scream if you don't get up rn

the faint buzz under the pillow rolled you out of your sleep, lazily you got the electronic device in your hands, seeing your friend’s notifications. shit, you thought. snoozing would get you in trouble once again. great.

getting out of bed was harder than you thought. dragging your feet, you made your way towards the door so as to open it for jisung. he sighed in relief upon seeing you and happily got in after you motioned for him to enter the space. “you gotta stop snoozing. for real.” he whispered, not wanting to get on your bad side so early. you mumbled ‘good morning to you too’ in response. he chuckled lightly and watched as you gathered your things to get ready.

after that day’s lecture, having cooled off from the hectic run to avoid being late, chenle, jisung and you were hanging out near some other students on campus. the bodypiercer placed a finger under your chin and took a closer look at your recent piercing. “how’s it healing?”

“is it what you wanted?” his question implied another meaning, which you acknowledged by his discreet wink.

you held back a grin, glancing away from your friends. and as if the universe was trying to play a prank on you, you see him. confidently walking around one of the halls heading the opposite direction from the three of you. his bass kept him company, as usual. jeno probably felt your eyes on him because he quickly scanned the area over his shoulder seemingly looking for something he didn’t find.

“it is.” you said to your friend, who smirked, realizing you understood his intentions. “but I’ve got to try harder, you know?”

“isn’t it just soap and saline solution to clean up? how the hell could you try harder than that?” jisung pointed out and both you and chenle grinned knowingly, nodding at his direction at the same time. “you’re weird.”

“what’s up, renjun?” the purple haired announced the third boy’s proximity. he held a friendly smile on his lips as he took the remaining steps towards the group to have a seat next to you.

renjun was the coolest and sweetest guy on campus, everybody knew him for outdoing all other international relations students and for his insane parties. the boy went all for having fun and making the most of his college experience while working his ass off to be the best he could be. just impossible, people would say. nobody dared to say a bad thing about him, though; hoping to God to be invited to one of his famous events. that had never been a problem for you. since chenle was his childhood friend, you eventually became friendly with each other.

“you’re coming on saturday?” he asked, expectant eyes looking at each of you, when he landed on your forced grin. “no! you’re coming!” he shook his head negatively. “please? louise is gonna be there, you’re the closest thing to a friend she has.” louise was his situationship and the girl from the same class you’d been hanging out with since she transferred. “please?”

you tried looking away from the three pair of eyes that expected your answer, already acknowledging no wasn’t possible. it’d been a while since you went out and spent time with lou and some other friends. “alright, alright! i’m going.”

jeno’s fingertips were sore from playing his acoustic bass by now, but he didn’t mind. he’d been absentmindedly following the melody of creep by radiohead, his favorite song. it wasn’t like he didn’t notice people were intimidated by him frequently and that had never bothered him, not until it stopped him from being closer to someone he liked.

he became hyper aware of people taking glances at him and moving awkwardly to the side so he could go on walking. also the stutters when he asked to take part in group projects, which never lasted long after people got to know him, started to annoy him a lot. most of the time they seemed to think he was tough and mean, even though that was far from the truth.

the boy even considered changing his style, quitting the band or whatever change he could make to seem more likable. however, that was just who he was, so he was trying to shut up those foolish ideas by drowning himself in music once again.

ARCADERS AKA BEST BAND ever

haechan: bow down to ur king haechan: SUMMONING THIS BAND where r y’all haechan: fr i need to tell u guys smth haechan: URGENT SOS HELLO R U THERE

jeno: what the fuck is this about

no sooner did the non-stop dings coming from the phone on the floor broke his trance, than he was checking the band’s group chat.

jaemin: this is good jaemin: he’s not joking

jisung: well where is he now

haechan: glad to know i’m so loved

jisung: uhm embarrassing ..?

haechan: n e ways got us a gig on thursday

jaemin: TELL THEM WHERE IT IS

jeno: hope it’s not wild’s hated playing there

haechan: i’d tell u to guess but i’m just losing my mind haechan: it’s ANL

jisung: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT

haechan: yeah invite chenle and our groupie she’s got to be there

chenle, jisung and you were on the way back home when the tallest suddenly stopped on his track, staring at his phone screen for a few minutes, white as a sheet. having no idea what was going on, you tried shaking him and asking what was going on a few times but he just smiled brightly and turned his messages for both of you to read.

“oh my GOD!” you yelled.

“NO WAY, JISUNG! ARCADERS AT ANL.”

“you guys HAVE to be there!” his friends ruffled his hair lovingly.

you were alone at the bar, waiting for your fifth drink to be done. the atmosphere tonight was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. the band was already backstage getting ready for they’d play soon, but oh were they shaking. they had been waiting for this opportunity for quite some time, it almost didn’t feel real for them. ANL was the biggest pub around and it was well-known for having introduced the best local rock musicians.

the bartender handed the beautiful pink drink to you and your journey to meet your friends in the back started. the place was packed, so walking was difficult. you recognized a few faces on the way and had a few dialogs here and there. many friends of the boys stopped you to ask about them or wish good luck.

you entered a door and found them inside the small room, haechan being the first to see you. “GROUPIE!” he exclaimed and the boys turned around to see you at the door. jisung sighed in relief and clung onto you.

“i’m so nervous.” the words slipped out of his lips when his face was buried in your hair.

“you can do this, ji. you’re the best drummer. our rockstar!” you could feel his smile on his cheek, then he let you go to say your hellos.

you scanned the room almost as bright eyed as them, stopping at jeno. he looked so… good, it took everything in you not to look like a fool. the chains on his neck complemented his pretty eye makeup so well, not to mention the leather jacket hugging his strong arms and back. you couldn’t help but notice his lips were glistening and a new black jewelry was there, a labret piercing. of course he noticed you staring, but you only realized that when your eyes found his. this time, neither of you looked away. the intensity flickering in his orbs woke the damn butterflies in your stomach and you had to fight back the urge to kiss him. ‘one more drink and you’d be done for, jeno lee’ you thought.

“oh good, you just got here?” chenle’s voice broke your little staring contest. your friend grinned at you, pointing to the huge backpack on his shoulders. “brought an extra camera so you can help me take some pictures for their insta, alright?”

“am i getting paid?”

“shut up.”

the staff came in a few minutes later and gave the two of you a pass that allowed you to stay between the stage and the barricade, for the pictures. suddenly everything felt real as they had less than 20 minutes to get in. the host announced them once more for the almost three hundred people there among friends, some admirers of the band and LOTS of students from the surrounding colleges who didn’t know them. tonight their word would spread around like fire.

“so, you like the surprise?” chenle asked, looking at you through the camera.

“i consider that betrayal, for your information” your answer made him throw his head back, laughing like a little kid. “what? a labret piercing isn’t a betrayal?”

“well, i consider it a present. and seeing the way you were staring…” he nudged you playfully, but the music stopped and the host came back on stage. the highly anticipated concert was about to start, so you just stuck your tongue out to your friend.

their entrance was big, everyone screamed to hype them up and they started with their own version of all the small things by blink 182. you swear you couldn’t even hear haechan over the audience. you took many pictures of them, sang together and admired their surprised smiles and stage personas in between performances.

at some point jaemin and jeno came to the front to have a small battle to show their guitar and bass skills, making the room go crazy. right after that, the vocalists screamed jisung’s name and he started to show off. chenle exchanged a proud look with you, all of you feeling an immense happiness.

so many girls were screaming their names, haechan mouthed the word ‘groupies’ at you, to which he received a middle finger in his direction.

the setlist had almost come to an end, there was only one song left. feeling on top of the world, haechan played with the public. “ANL, you’re such a good crowd.” they screamed. “unfortunately, we’ve come down to our last song.” a very loud ‘aawwww’ was heard and the boys chuckled among themselves. as the sunkissed singer spoke, the others changed their instruments. jaemin got an acoustic guitar, followed by jeno with his acoustic bass and the staff placed a cajón for jisung in front of the drums. “we prepared a very special song for you, beautiful people. thank you so much for coming tonight!” they cheered once more.

the first chords to wonderwall by oasis were played by jaemin, the other instruments following the softer melody. haechan’s sweet voice compelled the watchers to sing along, pouring their hearts out.

you felt a tap on your shoulder as you registered this breathtaking moment of the band. turning your attention to the person who tapped you, you see chenle wiggling his eyebrows in jeno’s way. turns out his gaze was burning your skin together with the words dripping from his lips so faintly, only someone so close as you would understand he was following the lyrics.

And all the roads we have to walk are winding

And all the lights that lead us there are blinding

There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how

the bassist didn’t know what had gotten into him, maybe it was the performance thrill. he honestly didn’t try to find an explanation. during their songs, you were the one getting his attention all the time. you were having so much fun, singing out loud, exchanging jokes with your best friend, showing some people the band’s social media… it clicked. he realized he would never have to change to be around you. he felt so silly. and then, a sudden boldness rushed through him to let you know there’s something he must tell you.

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sxtvrns · 1 year

Text

publicly romantic

🎶 now playing: in my heart (demo) - grentperez

P: Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

S: He fell first, and he fell hard. When you were on the big screen behind him, he knew he fell for you even more.

W: fluff, drabble because im in my kpop era now, no knowledge of skz at all, short

N: if im being honest guys the only reason i decided to write this was because i got inspired by those fan dance things during their world tour ive only ever listened to case 143 and i apologize if this makes me an outsider but i thought this was cute okay enjoy the content

please interact if you enjoy!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When your boyfriend said he was going on a world tour, you did not think it was going to last for nearly an entire year. JYP better give them a break after this.

Dating Felix was a handful. He was always busy and his schedule was packed, you both were travelling constantly, having a home in Sydney and in Seoul. With the tour on his hands as well, it didn’t make it any easier. You saw all the edits of him flooding the internet, all of them reminding you of how much you missed your boyfriend.

So when you were told he was going to Australia, and you were conveniently going to be there at the same time as his concert, you had your fingers crossed you could get tickets. You didn’t care if you were in the pit or in the nosebleeds; you were happy to even be in the same room as him for a little while, even if you had to admire him from afar.

You texted him and called him as much as you could. Whenever your phone rang, you always assumed he was on a break or had free time, knowing that it probably meant the rest of the day was full of work. The amount of people that love him reminds you of how lucky you are to have such a handsome guy who seems so out of reach be your boyfriend.

Things weren’t kept secret for long. When you visited Felix one time, he forgot he was live, saying your name and three forbidden words out loud and straight to the camera: I love you. You never showed your face that live, your hand merely waving hello. It wasn’t until you left the room that both of you had realized what he’d done.

You came into his room after he finished his live, putting his phone away. “What the fuck did you do.” You say, more of a statement rather than a question. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to– it just slipped out!”

“If I knew you were going live, I wouldn’t have come. You slip up easily whenever I’m around.”

“That’s because I love you. And that’s also exactly why I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see you.”

You pace around the room, panicking. “JYP’s gonna kill us. He’s gonna kill you. Your fans are gonna come and kill me!”

“He already knows.”

“What do you mean, ‘he knows’?”

“Chan accidentally ran his mouth. If anything, you wouldn’t be in my room right now if JYP forced me to break up with you. He just told me to be careful… and I do. Ever since we started dating, I’ve been careful.” He sighs, setting his phone down and walking up to you. “I’m sorry. I… you can stay here for a few days if you’re too scared to go outside.”

He knew that people could find what you look like and all your other information with a mere search of your name. This wasn’t the same as other people knowing who his sisters were. Him getting into a dating scandal would jeopardize your safety and his group. He didn’t care about his group at the moment, he was scared for you.

“I… I’d like that, actually. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I assume that means you don’t mind sharing a bed? Unless you want me to sleep on the floor.”

“You really think I want you to sleep on the floor after the amount of time we’ve been apart?” Your response makes him smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling you in for a hug, his hand caressing the top of your head. “I’m really sorry. I know I messed up. And I’m sorry I can’t be there for you all the time.”

“I know. It’s okay. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. I know you’re working hard and you’re busy. But… I’m hoping we can still try to enjoy ourselves for the time being.”

He pulls away to look at your face, being confused about your sudden switch up.

“Yes, I’m scared, yes, my life is probably going to be in danger at some point, but I did not come to see you just to worry about this and our relationship going public. It’s out there now, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I know I was panicking about it a few seconds ago, but I’ve come to terms that it happened already. I forgive you. And honestly, I’m glad that you’re that comfortable with me to say it in front of thousands of people.”

“I’m sorry–“

“You’ve apologized enough. It’s okay now.” You cut him off, going onto your tip toes to kiss his nose. “Can we order something? I’m hungry.”

“You didn’t think of doing that before my live ended?”

“I was gonna ask you, but I felt I intruded already.”

After that whole fiasco, people found your social media accounts, some of them even following you, flooding your comments with nothing but sentences that had the name Felix in it at least once. You got a few death threats even, but you tried to not let it get to you too much. It made you a bit paranoid, but the more you went out, the more you forgot about them.

Articles were written; Tiktoks and edits took over your feed about the ‘mystery girl’ or ‘Y/N’ behind the camera that gave Felix heart eyes whenever he looked at you. Eventually, they found out what you looked like, and though you were expecting insults, you were instead given compliments.

Pretty, adorable, beautiful… words that made you feel comfortable to be a part of Felix’s life publicly. He never brought it up during conversations or interviews unless another person did, which, he was very cautious with what he was saying.

You had your fair share of hate. It bothered you a little bit, but then remembered the only reason they hated you was that you had something they didn’t: Felix. His love and affection, his admiration and attention. It boosted your ego unhealthily, but you weren’t gonna get all full of yourself over it.

He wasn’t necessarily open about his relationship. He wouldn’t bring up the topic himself; usually someone else would have to. He would answer any questions, but there was always a limit to them. He was all nice about it though, always asking you after if what he said was okay to share with others.

“‘How’s Y/N?’ She’s good. She’s actually visiting, so I hope I’m not too loud.”

“‘How did you two meet?’ She does camerawork and paid us a visit, shadowing someone else. She always came along for a few shoots in a row, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity so I just asked when no one was looking.”

“You wanna see her? She’s not too comfortable on camera, so I don’t think–“

“Felix, do you want this?”

You look at his tripod set up, then his surprised expression, as if he’d seen a ghost. “What’s wrong? Am I interrupting?”

“Nothing. What is that?”

“It’s a grilled cheese. I put the last of your gochujang in the butter.”

“Ah, thanks, we needed to get rid of it somehow.” You eye the camera. “Your face isn’t showing.” He clarifies, allowing you to walk into frame, letting him take a bite of the sandwich. His eyes light up, enthusiastically nodding. “It’s good!”

“Do you want it? I’ll make another one for myself.” He nods, taking the plate from you. “Thank you!” He says, mouth full as you walk out the door. “Look at this, guys. You guys summoned her, now I get good food.” He bites into it again, visibly enjoying the simple sandwich you made. “I love my girlfriend.”

The clip went viral. It’s now one of Felix’s iconic moments, and the first of your own.

You two were certainly romantic, private and in public. On the occasion you’d post photos of the two of you together, and you were also open about it if you were to do lives together. You weren’t in every live, but he invited you once and it was fun, so you were open to other opportunities.

You kept your hood on, which hid your face a bit well enough on camera.

“Y/N, what are we making?”

“Rose tteokbokki.”

“If you don’t know already, my girlfriend is an amazing cook and she gives me food sometimes during some of my other lives.”

“Then Felix makes brownies after and it’s a full meal.”

He notices your amount of clothing, greater than his. “Why are you wearing your hoodie? Is it not warm?”

“I’m hiding myself, I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of when you’re so pretty.”

“I cannot believe you’re flirting with me in front of over a hundred thousand people.”

“They deserve to know.”

His hand rests atop your head, his fingers gently gripping the hood. You let him take it off, fixing your hair right after. “Isn’t she pretty?” He shows you off to the camera before you hide your face in his chest.

You sat in an innocent little bubble tea shop, scrolling on your phone when you get a call from him unexpectedly. “Hello?” You greet, sipping on your drink. “Y/N, do you wanna come backstage after the concert? Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve last seen you.”

“Probably because it has. Can you really do that?”

“Chan’s parents and siblings are coming, and they’re going backstage, my sisters are coming too.”

“I mean, I’d like to, if it’s possible.”

He chuckles. “I’ll see you there.”

“Love you.”

There’s a brief pause, and you think about hanging up.

“Love you too.” He mutters, ending the call. It wasn’t very ‘professional’ of him to be calling his girlfriend when he should have been out there practicing, but he’s been kept from you long enough. He just couldn’t help himself.

And besides, he’d do anything for you.

As if it were a coincidence, it turned out you were sitting next to Hannah, who greeted you with a hug when she saw you sit down in the seat beside hers. Now you were sitting in your nosebleed seat, eagerly leaning forward to stare at the screen, the sudden random play dance coming on.

From your knowledge, a camera would focus on a certain fan in the audience, mostly in the further back, said fan having to follow one of the boy group’s dances. This would usually come on mid performance, meaning the members would be watching as well.

You’re so engaged staring at the screen, excited to see who’s on next that you don’t realize that it’s you. “Y/N!” Chan says, looking over at Felix. The choreography for God’s Menu begins to play as Hannah forces you up onto your feet, cheering you on.

You hand her your lightstick and place your bag down, forcing yourself to get over it and just do the dance for the few seconds you’re on screen. In your opinion, you did pretty well, judging from the screams that erupted from every inch of the room. You do the ending fairy, leaning against the railing again with a hand under your chin, sending a wink and a flying kiss across the arena. You immediately get shy, hiding your face in Hannah’s shoulder.

“Wow.” Felix starts, feeling Chan pat his back. “That’s my girlfriend, everyone.” He points in your direction, the arena flooded with screams as Felix’s ears and face slowly go red on the screen. You feel your own face heat up as you cover it, Hannah shaking you uncontrollably. “He’s blushing!” Han teases, pointing at your boyfriend’s crimson face. “C’mon, man, say something to her!” Chan says, ushering him closer to the edge of the stage.

“Y/N, I love you!” He holds a finger heart up, sending a flying kiss back to you. Your face goes warm at his bold move, yet you feel pride that he’s comfortable to do that openly in an arena full of his screaming fans. “Don’t cover your smile, you’re beautiful.” The screams somehow get even louder, and you feel as though a million eyes are on you as you wave your lightstick gleefully.

“Aww, so sweet!” Seungmin adds, poking at Felix’s open affection.

“Do you guys wanna know what Felix does? He scrolls through her photos sometimes before practice and he comes back all red. His excuse was that warm up was tough on him.” Chan exposes, though isn’t immediately stopped by his friend. You laugh at the thought, it being heartwarming at the same time.

You wait with Hannah, her parents, and Felix’s family after the concert, seeing Chan walk out first and greet his family, then you. “Felix ‘s coming, just grabbing something.” You nod, letting him reunite with his family for the time being. You smile at his feuding with his sister, feeling a tap on your shoulder.

Felix is standing right behind you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, and you practically jump into his arms. “Geez, I’m so sorry, I smell so bad.” His sweat makes your hands cling to him, yet when you look at his face, it made him all the more attractive. Still smelly, but somehow sexy at the same time. He had a towel on his shoulder, wiping his sweat off as best he could. He pulls away to greet his mom and his sisters, taking their pictures for them. You watched in awe how sweet their connection was and how close they were.

You overheard his mom talking to him before they left. “Treat her good, okay? You don’t want to lose her.” Your heart melts, now aware you’ve truly earned his mother’s approval. He walks over to you, stopping to simply admire you, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear.

“My god, you’re beautiful. I’ve missed you so much.” He mutters, the words making you blush and jump onto him for a long awaited kiss. One of those long, cheesy movie kisses was a way to describe it, but who cares if it was cheesy, you finally got to kiss him after months of being away from each other. “Loved your dance, by the way. When’d you get the time to learn that?”

“Circumstances. Figured it’d be best to be prepared.”

“You did fuckin’ amazing, then.” His hand covers his mouth, eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You aren’t live anymore, it’s fine.”

“Still felt wrong.”

“Do you guys want me to take a picture of you?” Hannah appears out of nowhere, startling you. You nod, handing her your phone, posing for a couple pictures, feeling Felix’s hand on your hip the entire time. “Alright, now kiss!” Hannah says jokingly, Chan shoving her shoulder.

“Seriously–“ You get cut off by Felix’s lips on yours, smiling into the kiss. Hannah eagerly takes photos, even when he pulls away, simply staring into your eyes as if he could see a whole world behind them. “Can you post that?” He asks, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Am I allowed to?”

“I’m the one that asked.”

That was a yes.

When Hannah hands your phone back to you after scrolling through the photos, she says, “You know I was joking, right?” You huff with a smile, staring at the photo of the two of you kissing. “If Felix was given a chance to kiss me, he would do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”

missed this goofball <3 love you always and forever, lixie (ps i love ur abs)

YALL R SO CUTE

AWWWW

i want this SO BAD you dont understand

that should be me

SHE IS SO PRETTY

tbh felix same id fold too

HAHAHA CAPTION IS SO REAL

“Have you been doing that for every show?” You ask, Felix running his fingers through your hair. “Doing what?” His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and back. “Showing your abs. Lifting your shirt up and shit.”

He chuckles, his smile so pure talking about such a suggestive topic. “Yeah, why?”

“You’re telling me if I went to your Korea concert, I would have seen your abs there too?”

“You can see my abs anytime, Y/N.”

“I can?”

“You’re my girlfriend, of course you can.”

“Well, I don’t see you enough to see them that often but–“ When you turn back, his shirt is lifted up, showing them off in the middle of a Sydney sidewalk at an ungodly hour in the morning. You yank his shirt back down, Felix laughing almost too loud. “How indecent of you.”

“If indecent is what it takes to make your face like that, I’ll be it all the time.”

“Shut up.”

“You know you like it.”

“Maybe I do, so what?” You turn your face away from him, feeling his fingers rest under your chin to face you towards him again. “So… show me that you like it.”

“Felix, I am not having sex with you in the middle of the sidewalk at one in the morning.”

“So you’d have sex with me if we weren’t on the sidewalk?”

“I don’t think I can even have sex with you. At all.”

“Who’s stopping us?”

“Your fans. Your company.”

“They don’t have to know.”

“‘lix–“

“I know, I know. I’m just joking. Maybe when this whole idol thing is over.”

“It’ll be a while, then.”

“Hope you’re still in love with me by the time I’m 30.”

“I’ll always be in love with you, ‘lix.”

“Really?” He stops in front of you. “Really.”

“You promise?” He holds out his pinkie finger. You hook your own with his. “Promise.”

And he kisses you. Again, and again, and again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

i wanna be where you are; feel so close though you’re so far, you’re my girl. 🎧

#lee felix #lee felix x reader #skz felix #felix x reader #stray kids #stray kids felix #felix drabbles #felix blurbs #skz x reader #skz fluff #fanfiction #sorry if this is bad

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aparticularbandit · 1 year

Text

Glass Onion Meta

because i have too many thoughts and also i want to compare it with knives out but only very vaguely because it’s been a while since i’ve seen the first movie but some of the commentary/analysis i want to make involves comparing the two.

so!

...below the cut because this might get long (and also apologies if this is rambly because it’s just me having thoughts and wanting to get them all out...or at least some of them out).

oh, obviously this includes major spoilers for glass onion and also includes maybe minor spoilers for knives out.

EDITED TO CORRECT AN ERROR RE: WHO STEPS UP FIRST AT THE END.

i think it’s important to start with the themes/point of glass onion being very different from those in knives out. rian got asked in an interview about making movies about rich people who do horrible things, and i think the difference between the two is this: knives out is about rich people who do horrible things, but glass onion is about rich person who does horrible things. this is why the big heart moment in knives out is revealing that marta didn’t kill harlan because she is a good nurse, but what should be the big heart moment in glass onion is not telling someone drowning in guilt that they are, actually, good but the people who were once good now have the strength to turn against their abuser.

in essence, glass onion is the exact opposite of knives out - where the first movie is about saving a singular person done wrong by multiple rich people, the second movie is about saving multiple people being done wrong by a singular rich person.

now - past that general etc. i don’t really want to delve into knives out much, other than to point out that the majority of the cast are rich entitled people who were born into rich and have grown up rich and have their entitlement as the result of that. the only character like that in glass onion is miles, and it’s his corrupting influence - and abuse - that is the heart of my argument, really.

SO.

We need to start with the rest of the family - and yes, I will refer to the core six (Andi, Claire, Lionel, Birdie, Miles, and Duke) as a family because I feel like they are. I think that’s best set up in the first scene in seeing how Lionel, Claire, Birdie, and Duke play off of each other; how Birdie and Lionel have Claire’s speech on the news playing where they’re intended to be paying attention to it (Birdie’s Birdie, so she’s distracted, and Lionel appears to have intended to host a group of people sitting and seeing Claire’s discussion on tv except that he got pulled into a meeting with who I think were probably the other Alpha scientists?); and how Lionel and Claire, as soon as they get the box from Miles, are immediately on the phone with each other, expect Birdie and Duke to show up, and then all four of them are just ribbing on each other good-naturedly the entire time. They are a family. They are a family. And you see that at its best with those four (and particularly, I think, with Lionel, Claire, and Birdie). These six people know each other, and as far as they know, they all love each other (at least prior to everything with Andi and Miles’ dispute re: Alpha, but we’ll get into that). Even more to that point, every year they basically go on a big family vacation that Miles funds, and when they go, they don’t take the rest of their family (Birdie brings Peg because Peg is all of her brain cells and Duke brings Whiskey because Whiskey can get to Miles, but Claire doesn’t bring her husband (or assumed kids) and Duke doesn’t bring his mom, even though he still lives in her basement). This is for them. Their family. Not everyone else.

Anyway.

We need to start with the rest of the family, and more importantly, we need to start with Andi. The movie itself tells us that Andi found the other four first because she saw their potential - a substitute teacher, a washed up model, a YouTuber who couldn’t get off the ground, and Claire who is apparently in her thirties and still running for student council president, maybe I heard that wrong and she was trying for school board head or something, there’s something off there (EDIT: correction re: Nonnie heard clearer than me!) a failed attempt at city council president but they’re all trying to do something with their lives and failing and Andi looks at them and says, hey, there’s something here, something good, and all of us together can get to that something good.

And to Andi’s point, she’s right.

Lionel is more than a substitute teacher; he’s a scientific mind who probably keeps Alpha afloat (after Andi leaves - which means scientifically speaking, he’s probably the closest to her level, but he’s a science guy, not a business guy, which is where Andi probably excels more).

Birdie is more than a washed up model - which sounds like a bit of a stretch until you realize that, yeah, she did create a fashion line and then created an entire sweatpants line. (Like Lionel, she is not business savvy. Birdie gets the raw end of the stick here because she has no brain cells, but she’s not entirely dumb. She knows fashion. She just doesn’t keep track of much else.)

Duke is able to influence millions of people once he finds the right crowd (Twitch and YouTube run differently; what does well on Twitch does not always do well on YouTube and vice-versa; this is one of those things that I’ve heard some of the YouTubers I follow talk about in terms of their attempts on Twitch, not something I know from experience, but Twitch is run differently. It uses a different skill set).

Claire is actually a very skilled and capable politician provided she has the right connections and backing.

They are all very good at what they want to do; they are just missing the connections to do it.

Which is where Miles comes in.

Miles has no skills. The movie calls him an idiot. He steals outright from people. But what Miles has are connections and money, which is what the fam needs. They need a sponsor. Miles becomes their sponsor.

And it’s worth noting that other than Andi, none of them like Miles until he sponsors them. Miles literally buys his way into the fam. (And I think it’s worth noting that Miles does have a certain charisma to him. He’s full of shit. We know he’s full of shit. But he’s so good at redirecting and talking around and using words that are close but not quite the right word that we don’t notice he’s full of shit. That’s how he gets through to Andi, and once he gets through to Andi, that’s how he gets through to the rest of the fam.)

Even Andi depends on Miles’s connections and money to get Alpha off the ground. They’re partners.

And, to an extent, I’d argue they’re the fam parents. Andi brought them all together, she created the fam, she’s their mom. Miles gives them presents and money and introduces them to the rest of the business world; he’s their dad.

Roughly speaking.

And I think in the decade that the fam is together, they probably do think of themselves as a family. Sometimes maybe Miles asks them to do stuff they don’t like, but he also always gets them out of trouble when they fall into something. When Duke makes a bad call and gets banned from Twitch, Miles gets him right back up again. When Birdie makes a bad call and decides to start her sweatpants line, Miles supports her doing it. He helps them out, and he expects them to help him out.

I think while Miles and Andi were together, it’s quite likely that she reined him in. They were partners. They did things together. (She probably would not have supported the sweatshops in Bangladesh, but she was gone by then. She also would not have thrown Birdie under the bus for that because that was on Miles and also she would have known that Birdie wouldn’t know what that means.)

Like - the fam aren’t rich entitled jerks. They’re normal people. People with the potential to do good - great - things. People who, yes, take advantage of Miles’s sponsorship to do those good things. And build their lives around being able to do those things with the sponsorship of their admittedly very rich friend - but it’s not taking advantage because he’s always there to help them and provide for them and offer these things for them. Initially with no strings attached. And then maybe with some strings, but they’re very small strings, and they aren’t really bad things, it’s fine, and Andi’s okay with it, so that’s not really a string, that’s just family helping family.

And then Andi tells Miles no.

Andi, the strongest, the brightest, the best of them, the one who brought them all together, tells Miles no, and he cuts her out of the company founded on her ideas.

Andi is absolutely ruined, and they see Andi get absolutely ruined, and they come to the realization that their friend who has been nothing but a friend is actually not a friend and not only can cut them off but will completely ruin them if they get in his way.

Andi tries to go up against Miles, but by then he’s gotten to them and proven to each of them that he will absolutely destroy them if they try to side with Andi.

At this point, I think for most of them it’s not about the money.

It’s about seeing everything they have done, everything they have tried to do, all of the good they are trying to put into the world - Claire is a governor, she is trying to do so much good for her state, and she wants to do so much more good for her country; Lionel is a scientist, and maybe some of Miles’s ideas are crap, but some of them are genuinely good, and he is the one person who Miles actually sometimes listens to (except on Klear, when he wouldn’t even listen to Andi, why would he ever listen to Lionel? especially when he put all of their money into funding it, it has to work and Miles has always been about finding ideas that work and bringing them into his fold so that he can control them); Birdie doesn’t have any brain cells, so for her this is less about putting good into the world and more about sticking with her fam (we see this at the end, she goes where Lionel and Claire go; Birdie trusts her family so much that she wouldn’t question doing what Miles asks, which is how she ends up in the sweatshop problem (I think Andi is the one who hired Peg because Peg is actually capable at what she does, and I think Miles is the one who suggested Birdie have a secret phone just for communicating with him behind Peg’s back)); and Duke...by this point is mostly a lost cause, but he’s still a mama’s boy (honestly, I think Duke took after Miles, he looked to Miles first and foremost, and he’s the most likely to actually have the influence and money to get out from under Miles if he had enough sponsorship to get there, but Miles is never going to give him that because Miles needs Duke dependent on him) - it’s about seeing all of that completely ripped to shreds and destroyed, not about the money.

They’re not entitled rich people; they are normal people who needed money and connections, who gained money and connections through one singular person, and then realized that one singular person who they thought was their friend really, really was NOT their friend.

And realizing that there was no way out from under his control without losing everything.

And then being stuck.

I think it’s quite possible that if Andi had found the napkin earlier, Lionel and Claire would have sided with her maybe because she would have had actual hard evidence she could stand on, and if Lionel and Claire sided with Andi, Birdie would have followed. Not sure about Duke. Duke’s murky. But without actual physical evidence and proof, it becomes he said; she said, and when dealing with Andi who has already been devastated vs. Miles who even without Alpha has all of that money and connections and influence and could probably still destroy them if they turn on him--

Dad might be an abusive asshole, but if we pretend to like him, if we are his good little children, then maybe he won’t hurt us the way he hurt Mom.

It’s an abusive family relationship.

And once Mom is out of the way, Dad can be worse. Especially because Miles knows that he has the control over them that he wants, especially because that control has been tested and he’s been proven the winner, especially because he has people in place now to do whatever he wants whenever he wants it, all he has to do is threaten them.

Except that Andi finds proof.

Lionel may have been giving Miles a general heads up because Andi didn’t send that email to Miles, she sent it to her family. The people she found. The people she still loved. The people who might come back and join her now that she has actual proof. But Lionel is still under Miles’s employ, and he’s still the person who is supposed to be keeping Miles in check (and failing), and without Andi, he and Claire become the new...not parents, but they’re the oldest children here, they’re the ones closest to what Miles is doing, and they depend on each other to keep each other going.

Helen asks if they’re interested in how Andi’s doing or if they’re interested in the envelope, but the thing of it is that yeah, they’re interested in the envelope because if that holds what they think it does, that gets them out. It isn’t about let’s destroy the envelope to save Miles, it’s let’s talk about this so we can see where to go from here.

Because the additional problem here is that they are all now perjurers because they lied on the witness stand, so if they walk back their testimony, then they are now felons, and I don’t know about you, but I feel like that would at least wreck Claire’s chances at senate (or staying on as governor if she’s not in senate). Like - that seems like it was a fairly public trial, and having to go back and redo things would be an even more public trial, and turning back now would also ruin their reputations, even if it doesn’t ruin them financially or etc. Which is just another thing Miles now has over them.

So of course it’s a we need to talk about this, not because they don’t care about Andi, but because it affects all of them and they need to get this right if they’re going to try and go against Miles with all of his money and connections and influence. Because yeah, Andi could use that and win, but what would be the cost? They need to talk about it.

And all of that weight is there when Helen asks them to side with her, but now also they know that Miles has killed two of them.

Which means if there is another extended trial they also have to worry about whether or not he will try to kill them, too.

And like - now it’s not just reputation, it’s not just the life they have built for themselves, it’s their actual lives - and Duke’s already dead, so he doesn’t have to worry about his mom, but Claire’s got an entire family who Miles could go after and threaten if he wants - and, like, even if they were okay with risking reputation, you are asking them in front of a literal murderer to put their lives on the line to fight him, knowing that he has already murdered the best of them to get his way.

Helen has not dealt with Miles. She’s doing this for Andi. It’s like an outsider telling you how to deal with getting out of an abusive situation and there’s no safe way to do it, you can’t find a safe way to do it, and you certainly don’t agree to it in front of the fucking abuser where he will hear you.

Which is why the heart of the ending has to be when they agree to fight him.

When Claire says I saw the gun.

When Birdie says I saw the napkin.

When they all agree that enough is enough (in this case, enough happens to be turning all of the houses in America into mini Hindenburgs like they just lived through).

When Lionel says I saw Miles driving away after Andi was killed.

The movie starts with these three (and then Duke) and their reactions to getting something from Miles - and it’s most telling in Claire’s, how even though she’s zooming into a news station to talk about her campaign for senate, she’s still looking off to where the package from Miles might be, but it’s telling even in Lionel’s because he’s already trying to cover for Miles, and then there’s that present, and even with Helen, when we think she’s Andi, seeing her just destroy it - the movie starts with the power Miles has over all of them, and it has to end with them trying to break out of that power.

The catharsis isn’t just Miles gets what’s coming to him; it’s these people have finally had enough of the abuse and have decided to try and get out.

And I hope they stick with that, I hope they get out, I hope they reconvene with Helen and fight because Miles is in enough of a vulnerable spot that they can get out, finally. I hope that they are honest about what happened on that island.

...and I hope they are able to rebuild what little family they have left and that they pull Helen into it, if they can.

#musings #bandit writes meta #bandit analysis #glass onion #glass onion spoilers #knives out #i hope this makes a lick of sense #your bandit has a headache and is aware that this is a rambling mess

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winterchimez · 1 month

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things/aesthetic you associate with your moots please!

hi anonie!! it’s been a while since i’ve done tag games like this so LETS GAUR 🤩

im doing for the ones that i talk to most often ✨

@from-izzy my soulmate 🤞🏻(who clearly SHOULD be living in my city instead), sunricyeon!!, ✌🏻level-headed and ☝🏻dum-dum, purple 💜, bunnies 🐰, raccoons 🦝, in constant denial of her love life 😒, long calls & video calls, SAUR, music 🎶, “ALLY HELP ME 🥺”, fellow believer in God, concerts, has 19374848 plans to meet up but our studies/job preventing us to do so 😞 (but we will beat them and meet irl someday SOON BCS I MANIFEST)

@sungbeam my precious lil 妹妹 🫶🏻, blue 🩵, “hear me out….but another changmin potential wip/plot 🤡”, photocards, that wet tree rat pc, if talent was a person its her, care packages 📦, fellow introverts ✌🏻, the one who convinced me to purchase my sony headphones while we were videocalling in the store 🥹, my sleep paralysis demon, “ALLY JIEJIE”, my cutie wookie little sis 😔💗, but also goes 😐 whenever i talk abt sangyeon 🙄

@aimeecarreros the unhinged and wild one in the b*****, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, twerking ✨, the best gif maker ever 😤, “so elena…pretty pwease can you gif this for moi 🥺”, BBANGJU 👅, “CORREQUE ✌🏻”, insanely hilarious and unhinged memes and text messages 24/7, the moodmaker of the group, “haysss *inserts stripping meme*”, teasing me 24/7 🙄, pinterest, fashion 😍, bridal dresses 🤍

@snowflakewhispers the SAVAGE, maknae and the demon (lovingly) in the b*****, teasing me is her everyday job atp 🙄🙄🙄, mrs jacob bae, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, spitting fire 24/7 🔥, matching sony headphones 🤍, matching macbook colours 🩶, psych & kids 💗, the sunwoo to my eric, apparently is in a messed up relationship/situationship with someone who shall not be named 🦝, the moot who lives the closest to where i am 🥹 (so faster get your ass back here after uni ends)

@daisyvisions the unnie of the b*****, NAUR, that iconic zoom selfie 😌✨, constantly being distracted at work bcs of ✨unholy thoughts✨, podcast 🎧, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, also joined in on the fun with elena & ophelia on teasing moi 😔, jerry lee 🤤, doggo 🐶, newnudeshot 😏📸, photoism 🎞️, spongebob memes, BIG SEXC BRAIN 🧠, late night talks while working, always judging me for some reason 🙃

@justalildumpling my dongsaeng 👧🏻, sunricyeon!!, black 🖤, ptsd from windows turning from black to bright blue, “pull a j” aka doing and leaving assignments till the very last minute 😁, “guys…..”, “yall…..”, a simp 🤓, attracted to red flags men (but not anymore 😚), FOODIE CHINGUS, malatang, “guys….can we just call for like 20 mins max…i promise it won’t take long” = a 6-7hours call, late night (or early mornings) video calls, SHE IS A BEAUTY AN ICON AND SHE IS THE MOMENT 😍

@ethereal-engene my long-lost best friend 🥹, JU HAKNYEON 🍊, anime!!, men in glasses 🔛🔝, fellow chinese friend ❤️, cny 🧧, lion dances 🦁, WOOZI (ESP IN LONG HAIR 😩😩😩), matching hakkie pottery pcs 🤍, wips brainstorming ✍️, another cutie lil 妹妹 🥺, arms….and pecs 🤓, editing 👩‍💻, convos abt our studies/work life 💗

@kimsohn kim sunwoo, pinterest, “maya….i had a dream abt sangyeon….”, “oh!”, anime!!, that smiling and then speechless meme, sangyeon drenching himself in water 😀, “so when are you gonna write this”, sunric sluts, tbosas, coriolanus snow, always talking abt being on writers block with one another but eventually gets things done (and sometimes its long af), being caring 🥺, food!!

@quaissants 1/2 of my gremlins 👹, sends me lip gloss sangyeon 24/7, my twinnie 🤞🏻, same birthday & mbti 💗, speaks in such a soft manner like hello 🥺, genshin impact!!, ragnvindr bros ❤️💙, childe 🤓, angsty angst ❤️‍🩹, constantly looking out for me 🥹, men 😃, “i have selective reading”

@sanaxo-o another 1/2 of my gremlins 👹, unhinged as a person, sabrina carpenter 💗, flirty af but then i dont return the favour 😄, sends me sangyeon content 24/7, a great listener and gives me comfort, always checking up on others, ✌🏻level-headed and ☝🏻dum-dum, “LET ME BETA YOUR FICS”, pinterest, “Als”

@stealanity my unnie 🥺💗, always looking out for everyone, the big sister of the net, amazing as a person (i admire you loads), moodboards 😍, aesthetics ✨, a field of flowers 🌹🪻🌸🌺, brave (never afraid to speak up!!), i miss you sm unnie always 🫶🏻, calls me a cutie 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

@cloverdaisies CLO MY LOVE 💚, great britian 🇬🇧, fish & chips, “you have no rights ally ive revoked them”, “you dont love me anymore 🥺” aka clo’s way of making me feel guilty that i couldn’t visit her when i was back in EU (IT WILL HAPPEN ONE DAY I SWEAR I WILL BE BACK 😤😤😤), writing fics for one another 💗, STRONG ASS WOMAN 💪 (who juggles between work and uni all on her own 🥹🫂), “there’s a rat in my apartment”, phone & video calls (which we havent done in a while and we should again!!)

@juyeonszn my fawnie my bubba 🥹, coffee ☕️, zeneration livestream 🙌🏻, crying tgt, unboxing albums ✨, pcs collection, puppies 🐶, anime!!, big sexc brain 🧠, sunric sluts, INSANE MAKEUP LOOKS 😩, delulu is the solulu ✨, education 📚, never-ending talks on dc (which we haven’t done in a while i miss you loads 🥺), my fellow dancer 💃, if cutie was a person its fawnie 💗

@itsbeeble my pookie 🫶🏻, kim sunwoo, another big sexc brain 🧠, taylor swift 💛, eras tour ✨, “ALLY GO TO SLEEP”, eric sohn, ateez & svt!!, memes 24/7, exposing each other’s asses 😄, biker sunwoo 😩, delulu is the solulu ✨, another coffee buddy ☕️, talks abt uni/work life, always bouncing off ideas with one another

#❣️ — love notes!#❄️ — asks!#mutuals! <3

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crescencestudio · 10 months

Text

Intertwine Post-Mortem

i lied. i don’t know if this qualifies as a post mortem. i don’t even know what a post mortem is LMFAOkxkak

but this is my post intertwine release “devlog” chock full of dev experiences, behind the scenes looks, and more for those who want to know more about the process of creating intertwine and thoughts i’ve had in reflection of release/experiencing otojam!

it’s long bc in usual crescence fashion, a bitch loves to talk. so buckle in gamers!

my thank u offering for all the downloads and reviews

Committing to OtoJam

for those who didn’t know, i entered otojam on a sort of Whim. because i am deep in the alaris trenches, i didn’t want to distract myself for too long from my main game, especially when there are people who have paid to support development. after talking to some friends, i thought otojam would actually be good for me. i’d been struggling with burnout and was in a creative rut. on top of that, i’d been doing this dev thing for almost 2 years with no full game to show for it (cries). even if otojam would take time away from alaris, perhaps it would give me what i needed—a kick of Motivation, a dash of Creativity, and some GD Fun.

so i decided about two days into otojam to officially enter it! And thus Intertwine made its appearance

the graphic that started it all

Oh, we are Otojamming

the intertwine editing team assembled and we got to work. because i already had a pretty solid idea of the game (it had been an idea i was sitting on for a while), there was less time spent on brainstorming and more time spent on writing and editing the script. for playtesters, i already have a group for alaris, and a couple of them kindly offered to playtest intertwine for otojam. i spontaneously decided to cast a va after some discussions with the editing team, and max joined. then, with One Week left of otojam, faefield productions entered the scene!

regarding development, the first month was largely dedicated to the script. weeks 1-2 were writing and fleshing out. weeks 3-4 were dedicated to editing and fine tuning. when my editors were reviewing the script, i was creating all the art assets. after the first month, i would say we had most of the gui, one cg, and the base sprite done!

at that time i felt pretty good. we were making good progress! i even was productive on alaris and irl work!

then the Second Month happened lmao.

i always forget the Horrors of fine tuning a build. i’m projecting right now, but i’d argue a lot of developers forget or underestimate the fine tuning/ quality testing stage. during the 4th-6th weeks of otojam, i wrapped up all the assets needed for the beta build. i finished the remaining cgs, all sprite expressions, and the rest of the gui. then i coded all the features into a beta version: learning how to create a messaging system for the first time, nailing the multiple iteration mechanic, cutting and editing the voice acting audio, and other Horrors that i’m sure i’ve since blacked out from my memory all happened during the sixth week of otojam. i was truly in the Coding Trenches.

BUT i got the build done and was able to send it out to playtesters for a week of quality testing. spoiler alert: the build wasn’t perfect and there were many bugs that needed fixing. the seventh week—the second to last week of otojam—was dedicated to this as well as my own tinkering so that the build felt completely Perfect (making sure expressions r exactly how i want them, transitions and audio fade perfectly, animations are perfect, that godforsaken clickable string to get to the next iterations that No One was clicking. all of the tiny aspects that make a game feel really polished). I am Not good with grinding. Suffice to say this was probably the most miserable week.

me every hour: DID U CLICK THE STRING

But once again WE MADE IT! Near the end of the seventh week, orpheo of faefield productions reached out to me and after gushing to each other about how big of a fan we are of one another, we spontaneously collaborated for a custom OST. Enter the eighth week, and we were ALL grinding. playtesters trying out a second build within only two days. editing team making fine tuning edits for the best script. coding. voiced lines that needed the slightest bit of tinkering.

Come 3PM on june 30th (otojam ends 6pm june 30th) and i’m coding the new music room, adding and double checking the new ost, and more. Two hours pass and it’s 5PM. We have less than an hour to submit. 5:30something comes by and with shaky hands, i release the game page and submit to otojam.

flashbacks to college 11:59 deadlines fr

On top of last week crunching, i was also dealing with extreme prerelease stress. i’ve never released a full game before. a demo, i can change. i can still tinker. this isn’t the final product. But a Full Game? My god. what if ppl hate it? or worse, what if ppl are so apathetic, they don’t even look at it and it gets sent to the void? after all, this year’s entries are stunning. they are Bold and Creative and Fun and intertwine is so….

Boring?

Some Lessons—Take Them or Leave Them

lesson 1. don’t listen to prerelease anxiety. that is the devil talking to you. if u have friends at least they will play and be nice to u. if u don’t have friends and no one plays, well it’s not the end of the world!!!! there’s always the next game. and u fckn know what? at least u Made that shit. keep ur head high, icon.

lesson 2. have fun and take care of yourself. the reception to intertwine has been amazing. i couldn’t be happier with it. but at the end of the day, the reason i look back on otojam fondly is because of the very dear friends i had to support me and have fun with me thru it all. life is meant to be enjoyed. it’s meant to be about memories, not metrics! never forget what’s truly important in life (cheesy, everyone boos me, but i’m right idgaf)

where would i be without them

lesson 3. plan. there is room for spontaneity and flexibility. after all, u can’t guarantee everything will go to plan. but with otojam being a crunch, plan as much as you can beforehand to not stress urself out during it. with intertwine, i had a somewhat outline and at least a pretty good idea of the concept, game mechanics, narrative design, mood board, etc. i had character concept art of van. if i had to do all of this during otojam we wouldn’t have made it i’m so srs. i also think when u plan as much as u can before, u have more room and time to have fun during! more polished build and more loving memories it’s a win win.

early concept art tbh i never thought it’d see the light of day

Typical Brand of Crescence Cheesiness

if you’ve made it this far ur a real one. all i have left to say is thank you for the support. while i was proud of intertwine (until the last week of otojam lol), i didn’t know what the response would be. to receive so many kind words has been unbelievably heartwarming.

as i said before, i’ve been in this game dev thing for 2 years with nothing to rly show for it. but during otojam, i could really feel the skills and experiences i’ve gained shine thru. i had a better handle on narrative design, coding things, integrating gui, and even more dev friends to talk to (thank u to all my friends who have played and messaged me U DONT KNOW HOW MUCH I LUV U). it was rewarding in a different sense compared to releasing a game, and i really am glad i did otojam to give me that perspective <3

a lot of things seemed to cockblock otojam this year (or so i’ve heard) between the sheer amount of entries (go us tho), the release of a lot of aaa otome games, and then twitter literally breaking less than 24 hours after otojam ended. even with all that, i’ve been so humbled and honored to see ppl enjoy intertwine. the comments i’ve gotten have honestly made me emotional, with many of you comparing it to games that i heavily admire and or expressing emotions i never would’ve dreamed to have been able to instill.

the otojam experience has been incredible, from the memories to the game to the reception. and i’m very grateful for all the people who made it that way! thank you for enjoying our silly little game made with our grubby little fingies. i hope you all continue to enjoy intertwine (and the other otojam entries from this year) and van!

i luv u all!

#intertwine #crescence cries

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corporatefrog · 11 months

Text

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 29; like and subscribe

✧.* featuring yn setting up for their newest youtube video when a few unexpected guests arrive : ̗̀➛ notes - this is the last chapter! thank you guys so much for joining me during the journey of this story. I haven't finished a fic in years so it feels so good to write that final line. I left it pretty open ended to be ready for extra chapters in the future!! I could say a bunch more about how thankful I am for people reading this story and how much it's help me work through the past month but i'll let the chapter do that :) tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

Okay. Let’s do this.

“Hey guys! We’ve got a really special video today!” I greeted with a beaming grin, micking a high five with the camera. So far so good. “We’re going to be doing an interview I’ve been waiting to make for a long time…” I paused for effect before moving to the side, revealing today’s special guest.

“Say hello to Mysterion!” I exclaimed with applause. I’d add some cheering effects while editing but without it, it sounded a bit empty.

Looking back at Kenny, a laugh burst from my mouth at the expression on his face. He’d twisted his mouth into some semblance of a smirk but with the mask he looked cool and suave and more like he’d just smelled a three day old diaper.

“Dude, what is that face? You look fucking stupid.” I said between laughs. Kenny frowned, giving me a side eye.

“I’ve got a reputation to uphold!” He whined, gesturing to the dark hooded costume, “You don’t get it because you just started using your persona-”

“KENNY! Just say my social security number too why don’t you-” The frame shook as I lunged forward to stop the recording before any more secrets were shared on camera.

It had been about a few months since I’d started working with Butters and the guys would not let me forget they had seniority in the hero/villain world. Every chance Clyde had, he reminded me that he was there when they fought Cthulhu. Of course, Kyle was close behind to say that Clyde had done absolutely nothing during that fight. But that was followed by Kyle reminding me that he was sent to hell and was there during the eldritch battle.

I’d been worried when they found out that they’d stop talking to me altogether. I wasn’t quite sure why. They’ve known about Butters being Professor Chaos since they were children and I see him and Kenny hang out more than he hangs out with Kyle and Stan sometimes. He even hangs out with Craig and his group on the weekends.

The only thing that’s been hurt by my employment at Chaos LLC is my intel source. Wendy stopped giving me insider details about hero movements if they related to Professor Chaos so I haven’t been able to cover as much of his antics but she was still queuing me into other run-ins with minor villains and typical South Park oddities.

Last week, fucking Slenderman showed up. Like a tall faceless dude in a suit and tie Slenderman. Just standing in the park. He did kidnap Butters which led to an interesting rescue mission. And the video coverage was insane. Marble Hornets could never.

I didn’t want to trust it at first. I’d spent a month waiting for things to suddenly change. For everyone to turn on me for being a minor inconvenience at best but Craig still asked me to help him with his stats homework at Tweek Bros and Stan still invited me to whatever random board game shop he was visiting that week. The only thing that changed was sometimes we ran around the city in (if I’m being honest) ridiculous costumes and blew off some of the steam that comes with being a college student at Garrison University.

The entire college almost shut down last month due to Dean Garrison being convicted of tax fraud and publicly attempting to assassinate the President in order to avoid charges. Without anyone to lead the college and the name now permanently connected to an elementary school teacher turned assassin, the only option seemed to be shutting the place down. That was a rough month. The university was literally on the verge of closure and I still had to write a 10 page research paper. What kind of bullshit is that?

Yeah but it was a paper about The Bachelor so was it really work?

Anything that involves citing in APA is work.

The routine of my new normal set in pretty quickly. Well, as ‘normal’ as things can be when you’re friends with superheroes in South Park. I went to my classes, made videos for my channel, then I’d meet up with Butters and ruin a few people’s day a few times a week. It was scary how easily I fell into the routine. I’d wake up and say good morning to Stan as though he weren’t shooting tranquilizer darts from a nail gun at me a few hours earlier. Certainly not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.

Looking back on the past two years, I see all the chances I had to end up somewhere else. If I’d gone to a different university and never set foot in South Park or if I’d chosen a different apartment and never ran into Clyde on my first day there I could have led a completely different life. Even in the moments which dragged on my mind, they all led me here. And the feeling of comfort that comes along with that thought makes every struggle worthwhile.

There’s nowhere I’d rather be and here. Attending a university with an idiot dean, living in an apartment building with my closest friends, and now helping someone I care about get the revenge he’s due. Oh, and making youtube videos about all the stupid shit that happens along the way.

I restarted the recording, giving Kenny a warning glare before saying the intro again. This time, he kept a normal face which made it much easier to not think about how just a few months ago, I was freaking out at the idea of talking to THE Mysterion.

Granted, now we’ve seen THE Mysterion vomiting in a toilet at 2 am after eating his taco bell too fast so the shimmer has faded.

“So, Mysterion,” I started, glancing at my list of questions I’d prepared for the interview, “You’ve been the longest running hero in South Park history! How does it feel to be coming up on 10 years as South Park’s Guardian Angel?”

Kenny hummed as he mulled over the question, “It’s not an easy job-” A knock on the door cut off his answer. I looked over at Kenny with a confused expression. He mirrored my confusion but couldn’t offer an idea on who was interrupting our interview for the second time.

I paused the video before heading over to the door, looking through the peephole. Toolshed’s signature belt gave him away instantly. He shifted from foot to foot as he waited, tapping his hands against his thighs.

What the fuck?

I opened the door, leaning against the frame while I deadpanned at my neighbor.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, looking at him from under my eyebrows.

Stan flashed a sheepish smile, “Well, I heard that you were interviewing Ken-” He paused, glancing down the hall both ways before correcting himself, “Mysterion today and I was thinking I could join? I haven’t gotten an interview yet after all.”

“You haven’t gotten an interview because all you’ve done the past three fights is stand in the back with a power drill looking lost.” I pulled up my phone and held it up for Stan to see the footage from the past three hero conflicts. While Kenny and Craig dove into the fray, Stan could be seen in the background, searching through his utility belt for the right tool for the battle. By the time he held up his weapon of choice, Craig would be throwing the final punch.

“Okay those videos are rigged. You got those from the Craig fan accounts.” Stan protested.

“You’re really reaching now bud-”

“Is there still time for the interview?” A voice shouted from down the hall. Kyle’s door flew open with him rushing out soon after. The kite strapped to his back caught on the door frame, sending him tripping and falling into the wall across the hall from his door. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face while the sound of Kyle cursing and tripping over his own stupid fucking costume filled the hallway.

“Dude what are you doing?” Stan asked, crossing his arms as though he were the one being put upon by the appearance of the Human Kite. Kyle righted himself, brushing imaginary dust off his costume.

“You said you were going to try and get in on the interview and after my last one-” He gave me a pointed look as though I were the one who chose his stupid name in the first place, “turned into me being berated for an hour and a half.”

“Yeah but you already had one. It’s my turn now.” Stan whined.

“Actually, it’s my turn right now.” Kenny said, suddenly appearing behind me at the door. I jumped to the side, holding a hand over my chest to keep my heart from jumping out at the shock.

“Jesus fuck man. I need to put a bell on you.” I muttered to myself before addressing the slowly growing group of complaining superheroes, “None of you guys get to decide whose turn it is to be on my channel. I set up this interview with Kenny a month ago and we’re finally getting to filming so if you want to have ‘your turn’ you need to fill out the form and join the queue like everyone else. I’ve got Craig and Tweek lined up for next month then Tolkien-”

“How the fuck does Tolkien get to go before me-”

“Because he filled out the fucking form Stan? I literally just told you.”

“Okay, well I just think it would be more interesting to have Toolshed on before Tupperware.” Stan looped his thumbs through his utility belt, kicking a foot at the ground with a frown tugging at his lips. He looked up at me with pouting eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to change my mind.

No way this 20 year old is pouting in the hallway right now.

I blew a breath out of the corner of my mouth, averting my eyes from the pouting college student. I better not regret this.

“Okay, fine.” I started. Stan’s posture immediately improved as he straightened up and began to walk towards the door. Kyle followed suit with a borderline giddy smile of his own. I held up a hand to stop them, “But this is a one time thing, okay? Don’t go telling the others you can just bug me into doing a video with them because I know Clyde can and will be the most annoying motherfucker to ever exist until I do an entire series about him.”

Kyle and Stan nodded rapidly, heads moving in sync as they agreed to whatever would get them in the video. I was about to move aside and let them in when Kenny sucked in a breath.

“We weren’t supposed to tell other people about this?” He asked. When I turned to stare at him, he plastered an awkwardly large grin on his face.

“Who did you tell?” I asked, holding my breath out of fear for what he’d say next. Kenny paused, eyes moving across the ceiling as he thought over the question. That’s never a good sign. Then he began counting on his fingers, mouth moving in silent words as he continued to tick off different unknown names.

Letting his hands fall with a shrug, he looked back at me with the still incredibly awkward smile, “Only like a few of the guys-”

“MUAHAHAHA, THIS IS WHERE YOU FALL MYSTERION!” Butters came barreling in through my balcony doors, fists raised to the sky as he posed in the living room. The four of us turned to look at the villain.

“False alarm, Butters. Apparently this was a lowkey thing.” Kenny said, pointing to me with his thumb as though I were the buzzkill in the situation. My jaw dropped as I turned to Kenny, appalled that he had the audacity to claim I was ruining our private interview I’d spent a month planning.

Butters’ arms fell back to his sides, tinfoil of his gauntlets scraping slightly against his belt, “Awe geez, and here I was ready for a scuffle.” He said, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor in a similar pout to Stan’s from moments before.

Why am I friends with a bunch of toddlers?

Before I could address Butters’ appearance, my apartment was flooded with the rest of my friends all clad in their hero costumes. Tolkien waddled behind Tweek and Craig, turning sideways to get through the door with Clyde following close behind. Soon my apartment was filled with arguing superheroes and one very boisterous villain, all trying to figure out how to fit themselves into the frame.

I squeezed myself onto the couch between Kenny and Clyde, feeling like I should at least have the original planned video guest in the middle of the frame. Voices overlapped as Stan tried to shove Kyle over, pushing Tweek and Craig further to the side. The cacophony of sound bounced off the walls and made the air buzz with the rambunctious energy.

Normally the noise would send me spiraling, overstimulated by the different sounds all pulling me in different directions, but the noise around me calmed the normally racing thoughts in my mind. I’d spent so long sitting in front of this camera, reading off new stories of the people who now shouted my name to grab my attention from opposite ends of the couch I’d gotten off Facebook Marketplace. The once deafening silence which filled the moments between takes was replaced by shouts to move over and accusations of stepping on their kite string.

It was the best noise I’d ever heard.

“I’m starting now! Everyone shut up and follow me lead!” I announced, stabilizing the camera before returning to my spot with a smile.

I smiled for the camera. I smiled at the thought of the views a video with all of South Park’s heroes would get. But I also smiled from the overwhelming happiness that came from being surrounded by my closest friends.

“Hey guys!” I greeted, raising a hand to mimic a high five with the lens,

“Welcome back to the channel!”

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc@sophtophie@inkedintothepaper

#its done-#please tell me you guys liked it AHHH im so scared to post this #i tried to make it sweet #corporatefrog #south park #south park x reader #welcome back to the channel #sp tfbw #tfbw

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cafecourage · 5 months

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Of Hero and Hijnks - Chapter 4

(This is heavily not edited I am sorry and its been a while that I have written the boys™️)

After some story telling around the campfire, then slowly and surely each hero of courage head to bed. As the night shifts started (Y/n) couldn’t really sleep that night as everything that happened was finally once again falling on their head.

They needed air, but even they knew the Great Plateau wasn’t that safe even if the blood moon isn’t around anymore. As they travel to the entrance they notice someone had beat them to it. (Y/n) had to file through what to call the pinkish hair Link. “Mind if I join you?” They whispered as they got closer as they sat down they took note that Wolf Link was also resting here. It was to tempting to reach over and pet the good boy.

“Not like I have a choice.” Human Link huffs as he leans back a bit. It made things a bit awkward as (Y/n) tries to remember who this Link was. They had theories the pink hair is their main one. Given that their are still Hero’s missing that means there is around thirteen different heroes to match to a person in this small group. They called this one the Veteran. Meaning he would have had the most adventures which limited it. “I knew someone with the same name as you.” The veteran said after awhile, rudely interrupting their train of thought. “It sounds like a similar case to the old man. They were invisible as I traveled around, no matter where I was. If there was an adventure they were there to commentate.” He explains looking into the moon as he thinks about those memories “the thing was they grew up weirdly, almost like they aged backwards as they helped me.”

It was like a light bulb went off for them as they stopped petting Wolf Link. “Did you turn into a bunny?” It was a shot in the dark that hit this Link like a bullseye.

“Wait…” He whispers almost in horror at the realization and the reality “what the fuck are you doing here? Just how many of us do you know?”

“Technically none of you but I’ve seen all of your adventures.” (Y/n) distracted themselves with Wolf Link again. Alternating between bushing out his fur and giving him head scratches. “I’ve been trying to figure out who is who and also struggling to figure out a good nickname for each of you with out giving away anything. Cause you know not everyone wants their adventures out in the open. Like, I was honestly just settling with hero titles since that’s easier on my brain.”

Link crosses his arms sighing again “you never shut up when you get going.” He sighs out making him deflate a bit. “First Koholient now this?” He covers his face as he mutters to himself.

Now thats a sentence (Y/n) did NOT want to get into at the moment but they will remember that for later as it was just the first day. “Well not my fault.” They went straight back to their attention on Wolf Link. “I will try to not be dead weight, like hell I will stand by while you guys fight. Done that to many times apparently.”

Another scoff comes from this Link as he props his head up on his hand. “You can fight with that thing?” He gestures towards the bow they had on hand still.

“Truthfully? I don’t know. I’ve never actually killed a monster with it. Since my world is peaceful and lacking of magic so…” They really didn’t think they could only because LARP is different from reality. Yes, they did take some lessons so they knew what their where doing with a sword and bow. “I want to try though, I can use it. I can aim and I like to think I’m fairly good. Not as good as you guys though.” They didn’t want to admit that the thought of actually being in battle scares them. (Y/n) looks out to the cave entrance, it was quiet out.

“Where did that rancher go? He’s been out on patrol for a while now.” Wolf Link had perked up as he realize the time, (Y/n) stopped and let him get out.

“The Rancher?” Was that Wolf Link?

“I thought you knew everyone.” Link fire back instantly it almost sounded as a tease. “He’s the one with the wolf pelt.”

“I do know everyone, but some of you look way different from when I saw you last.” There was a pause “I was going to reference the pink hair, but the last time I saw you was when it was brown. I didn’t think it would stick though.”

“Can you let that go?” Link shakes his head as they assume he wants to forget it.

Though honestly to (Y/n) his natural hair was pink but to each their own. “No, but I’ll stop bringing it up.” Yawning they were finally feeling a bit more tired. “Two more questions thought.”

“Shoot.”

“One. Nicknames who is called what.” That was probably the most important thing to know. “I would assume its by profession but Old Man isn’t a job.” It was really at that point were (Y/n) didn’t know what the Hero of Time’s job is if he even got one after the whole debacle.

“It was by professional at first but we kinda made nicknames along the way.” (Y/n) almost screamed as Wolf link spoke suddenly as he was heading up the hill. “I’ll take over Second watch for the Sailor.” He said as he almost flops onto (Y/n) dropping his pelt onto their shivering form.

The Vet could only watch in slight amusement before shrugging “good luck.” He said to (Y/n) taking this as his escape before he was also trapped with the wolf man.

Once (Y/n) was sure the veteran was further away they turned to look at Wolf Link properly. Studying the markings that had been tattooed onto his face for a few seconds before finally speaking up “you suck at hiding the wolf thing.”

There was another pause as Wolf Link stares back horrified at what was just said. “Huh?”

#twilight (not lu) speaks #linked universe x reader #luxreader #linkeduniverse x reader #london fog tea #linked universe #linkeduniverse

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seriouslysam8 · 1 year

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Hi Sam, I’m a huge fan of all your series and your writing. You inspired me to write, but sometimes when I compare my writing to other, mine for a lack of better word, sucks. I get so embarrassed that I often delete it or never look at it again. I would say I'm an okay writer but I know I have a lot to work on. I received an anon message a while ago telling me my story was horrible and a few other things so I stopped after that because... well I just felt ashamed. I turned off my asks after that. Do you have any advice? Do you ever feel like this? And how do you overcome it? How do you deal with the negative feedback?

This just breaks my heart.

I have felt like this a lot. When I first got back into the fandom, my stories were ripped to shreds. I was told my headcanons were all wrong and was told who I should read because they had better headcanons than me and I could learn a thing or two. I was told my AUs were stupid and that put me off to writing AUs for the longest time. I felt like I was boxed in and creativity wasn’t appreciated. I have gotten a lot of negative feedback to the point where I almost quit writing for the fandom multiple times. I have deleted some stories and abandoned some stories from when I first started writing.

Here’s the thing, people are mean. People are cruel. For some reason, people think that since nobody can see their face and they can go on anonymous, it’s acceptable to be rude and blunt and just a plain mean asshole. They say things they’d never say to someone’s face because they’re a coward and hide behind a keyboard.

I know how hard it is to drown out those awful people. I fret and worry still when I write that I’ll get hate for something. I’ve taken to blocking certain tumblrs, ignoring some asks, and separating myself from toxic spaces within the fandom. I’ve just deleted negative reviews and tried to put them out of my mind, because what else can I do?

This is why I always ask people to review if they like a story. Because if everyone who followed a story reviewed and said something nice, it drowns out the hate and the meanness. It’s easier to keep writing when you have people who are encouraging and nice. I’ll never understand how someone can read something they enjoy for free that takes days to write and edit and not even leave a review to encourage the writer to keep going. It’s not a lot to ask.

I don’t think you’re alone. I see so many authors abandon stories because nobody reviews or they only get negative reviews. I’ve done that as well. Then I see readers complaining that a story has been abandoned but I bet they never once left a gushing review. A little bit of kindness goes a long way. Unfortunately, not many people want to be kind.

I have a small group of readers who review everything I write. I love them. I write for them. I’ve become friends with a few of them. I am so grateful and I keep writing for them and only them. I had someone private message me the other day asking if I took requests and I said no because that person has never once left me a review. I thought, why would I take a request to write a story they want if they never once have shown me any love? So I write for my besties who always review and I focus on the love and appreciation they have shown me story after story after story.

The best advice I can give you is don’t stop. You’re just starting out writing. Do you want me to send you my first story I wrote back in the fandom?? I deleted it because it was so terrible. But you’ll never get better if you don’t keep writing. You kind of just figure things out as you go. You’ll only get better and better if you soldier on. You will get those cheerleaders who love your stories and make it all worth it.

I am always open to talking. Just send me a private message on tumblr or discord and I am more than happy to encourage you and help you as much as I can. I think we all need to support one another and show some love to creators.

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pajarinwrites · 7 months

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The Perfect Set 01

➳ fem!reader x Jacob

➳ wc: 4.8k

➳ TAGS: volleyball player!jacob, college!au, best friends to lovers

➳ WARNINGS: drinking?, slightly questionable comments about women's bodies (but our Jacob stops them before they get to finish the sentence :D)

➳ AN: omg wtf this took so long, and i kept pushing it back and then i realised it's scheduled for zhongqiujie/chuseok even and i wanted to write a little special for the holiday and i couldn't finish because i was editing this because i felt terrible that it took this fucking long to finish in the first place

also, sorry to lucas, i'm sure he drinks his respect women juice every morning

next | series masterlist | general masterlist

You could make out Jacob’s focused face from your position in the stands. No matter how many times you’d seen him before a match, you’d never grow tired of the expression he wore during warm-ups. The soft, lovely Jacob you’d known for most of your life suddenly seemed to become a whole different person. The kind of focus that shadowed his eyes and the intensity in his gaze reminded you again and again why the opposing team always seemed intimidated by his mere presence.

You watched him stride across the court, shaking hands with the opponent’s captain in front of the referee. Your heart swelled with pride once more as you remembered the team meeting at the beginning of the semester, where the players voted Jacob as their captain, unanimously. His expression had been incredulous and elated at the same, so very different from the one he was wearing right now. So very different from the one he had been wearing when he came climbing through your dorm window that night, close to tears in worry about not being able to fulfil his duties as captain.

He had big shoes to fill, true, Sangyeon had been a brilliant captain and wing spiker, but Jacob was going to be brilliant in his own right, in his own way. You told him as much, while holding him close and stroking his back lightly. He nodded solemnly against the column of your neck, opting to hold you a little closer in lieu of a verbal reply.

You’d like to hug him again now, tell him ‘see, didn’t I tell you, you’d be great?’. But you have to make do with simply waving your enormous banner and cheering him and his team on as loud as you could.

They win, of course they do. They haven’t done much else since the start of the semester. Largely due to Jacob’s tireless efforts at captain, the research that goes into the best warm-up and stretching routines, the extra hours working on stamina and reviewing game plans together. You’re there for all of it, where else would you be as his best friend? And he thanks you by giving you so much of his precious time, that he always had so little of, torn between responsibilities for his friend group, team, and university work. Not that you’re any less busy.

“You played brilliantly! Mrs. Oropeza would be so proud of you!” You great him in front of the changing rooms after the game. He hasn’t even showered yet, his bangs sticking to his forehead and his jersey sticking to his torso, in ways that leave little to your imagination. But his eyes are shining with happiness and with pride, and maybe a little bit with relief. That’s your Jacob, ever the worrier.

“Thanks! I flunked the toss in the first set to Juyeon. And I lost track off the court for a bit in the last. But the boys covered for my mistakes. I should practice my jump serve again, though. Im sure I can improve in terms of power.” You smile, listening to his excited explanations, his gaze still halfway on the court. Sometimes you wish there was something in your life you could be burning for so passionately.

“You’re always so hard on yourself.” He smiles at that, a familiar refrain. You’ve done this a million times after his matches, it always goes the same.

“Someone has to keep me in check. Especially now that I’m captain.”

“You should take more time to celebrate your achievements, though.”

“That’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it?”

As if divinely timed, Juyeon sticks his head out the locker room door. His hair is drooping wet, droplets of water running down his neck before being soaked up by the towel he’d slung over his shoulders.

“Did I hear you speaking of celebrations?”

Maybe he was just eavesdropping, you decide.

“We’re gonna celebrate making it to quarter finals tonight. At Haknyeon’s at eight, you should join!”

“They’ve got better stuff to do than party with you knuckleheads,” Jacob jokes good-naturedly, “some of us care about our degree, you know.”

“I think your degree will survive one night of letting loose.”

“I whole-heartedly agree.”

“Great! So you can make sure our captain shows up for more than half an hour for once!”

“Get a shirt on!” Jacob exclaims, pushing his team mate back into the cabin. “Half naked! That’s no way to speak with a lady!”

“And where’s the lady?” You hear Juyeon chuckle at his own joke before the locker room door falls close behind the both of them. Jacob sticks his head out for another second.

“Will you wait for me?” He asks, as if this is the first game you’ve come to watch, as if you didn’t scream cheering slogans at the top of your lungs for one and a half hours, as if you aren’t wearing his name on your face, scribbled onto your cheeks with bright red lipstick.

“Always,” you smile.

It takes Jacob all of fifteen minutes to come back out of the locker room. At this point most of his team mates have left, most of them stopping you chat with you. Other than the new first semesters, they’ve all come to know you as a permanent fixture in the extended team. Even though you reliably decline the offer to join the management, you make it to every game and most practices. Through Jacob’s friendship, you’ve picked up all terminology for the sport, and, through your constant support in research, you’ve gotten quite a thorough understanding of the tactics behind a play. Not to mention that you’re always front row when it comes to support and cheering. Juyeon high fives you as he leaves, reminding you of your promise to drag Jacob along to the team party.

“Who said anything about a promise?”

“If you actually get him to come, then I promise to get you free drinks all night.”

“Tempting,” you muse sarcastically but Juyeon seems to miss your tone.

“Yeah, it’ll be awesome, seriously. You two have really missed out on some great parties over the years!”

“The greatest part are usually the wonderfully embarrassing stories you tell of each other afterward. Plus the blackmail video proof.”

“And this time you can be a part of them!”

You’re not sure how to reply to the earnest expression on Juyeon’s face.

“Thanks, but I’ll stick to watching the blackmail.”

He only shrugs in response before sauntering off with one of the newer recruits for the team.

You spend your time scrolling through TikTok until a soft tap on your shoulder and the waft of a familiar aftershave alert you to the presence of your best friend. You look up, smiling, and are met with a similar expression on Jacob’s face.

“How about we go to your favourite café to celebrate?” He asks.

“Shouldn’t we go to your favourite place?”

“My favourite place is wherever you are.” He replies, as if it’s the most normal thing to say.

You exhale unattractively through your nose as you two start walking in unison.

“Save your sappy pick-up lines for your girlfriend.”

“No girlfriend, as you know.”

“Alas, so you have to waste them on me.”

“I don’t think they’re wasted on you.”

“Ugh stop, you incorrigible flirt.”

“I’m not flirting.”

“So that’s why every girl I know has a crush on you.”

“They do?” You punched his arm at the excited expression on his face.

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Jacob laughed, rubbing his biceps where you hit him. “But don’t tell Juyeon. He’ll get sulky.”

“Maybe you should give him flirt lessons?”

“I should. His idea of flirting is taking his shirt off.”

“Ah so he was flirting with me today,” you grinned sarcastically, looking over to your best friend. But instead of the expected teasing, you were met with a surprisingly serious expression.

“I think so. He’s been trying to show off for a while. Why else would he invite you to the party?” You were stunned into silence while Jacob held the door to your favourite café open.

“I thought he was just using me to get you to the party.”

“That was just his excuse. He talks about you a lot.” You were floored at this new development, and your expression must have been betraying as much because one glance send Jacob into giggles.

“What’s with the disbelief? He’s not the first member to develop a crush on you.” You’re too preoccupied with sorting through all this new information to notice the way Jacob presses his lips together right after the statement, looking very much like someone who confessed something he’d rather not have.

“Anyway. What do you want? The usual?” You ignore his question in favour of returning to the can of worms he himself just opened. “So you’re saying that there are multiple of your team mates that are interested in me, right?”

Jacob groans, “I don’t know. Not right now, I guess. Juyeon was pretty clear about his… crush.” The words seem to pain him.

“But there have been several of your team mates interested in me?” You insist. He says nothing while studying the menu. You both know he won’t choose anything other than his regular iced americano anyway, so you nudge him none so gently.

“Don’t ignore me!”

“I’m not ignoring you! I just don’t know what to tell you. I guess, yeah, several. Over the years a few of them said stuff.” Jacob doesn’t turn around to face you during your conversation, opting to instead order for the both of you. You watch the barista being a little too touchy when giving him his change. She winks at Jacob. Your best friend really can’t go anywhere without being ogled. And you couldn’t be mad if you tried, you have eyes after all. Anyone, who’s ever exchanged more than three words with Jacob Bae, can tell that his kind demeanour, sparkling eyes, and fluffy hair are the stuff movies are made of. Heather here (as the name tag on her uniform informs you), seems to agree. As you cling onto your best friend’s biceps, she gives you a scalding glare.

“What stuff?” You ask. He finally faces you when the two of you make your way over to the pick-up counter. Jacob seems thoroughly unamused by your antics.

“I don’t know, dude. Just that you’re, like, cute or whatever,”

“Who said that?”

“Okay, time to change the topic,” he smiles.

“Why? Are you scared I’ll be mad when I find out what big, ole hunks of men you’ve been gate-keeping from me? What’s up with that, by the way? Are they all spineless or did you actually tell them not to ask me out?” His silence is answer enough.

“Jacob Bae! You are the reason none of your super hot athlete friends ask me on dates? What kind of best friend are you? Since when has this been going on?”

Jacob stews more in his silence but you decide not to let him get out of this particular question. He manages to hold out until you’ve both picked up your drinks and slid into your regular booth. Still avoiding eye contact like he could contract the plague from you he mutters ‘sincehighschoolorsomething’ in such a small voice that you have to lean forward and ask him to repeat himself.

“It’s not that I’m gate-keeping them from you!” He says in lieu of repeating his words, “If anything I’m gate-keeping you! You deserve better.” You heart flutters in your chest at the compliment, given in such a frank and matter-of-fact manner. Especially with how Jacob doesn’t even seem to notice how sweet his declaration was. He simply forges ahead in his explanation.

“You should see them, some of them can’t even wash their uniforms regularly. Do you remember Mark from algebra? I swear he didn’t even shower after every practice!” Jacob whines.

“Mark?” You near shout, the warm feeling behind your ribcage vaporising in a second from the surprise, “from algebra? Are you telling me it’s because of you that I couldn’t get a boyfriend in freshman or sophomore year of high school? And when I always encouraged all the girls that told me they had a crush on you, too!”

He blushes, “but girls are girls and boys are trash.” He says with such naïveté that you can’t help but laugh, all your righteous anger dissipating.

“That’s a valid point,” you concede between fits of laughter. “And, in all honesty, if you think they’re not good enough for me, then I trust your judgement.” You wink at him, but miss the way he flushes an even brighter shade of red as you take a sip of your drink.

“Anyway, the party tonight?”

“What about it?”

“Are you coming along of your own accord or do I have to drag you?”

He frowns, “But what about our victory tradition?”

You look at his petulant pout and cock an eyebrow. As important as your tradition is to both of you, you know that it’s also a convenient excuse. There’s a short staring contest between the two of you, but it’s clear that Jacob will cave first, as usual. He rolls his eyes as if there was important information printed on the inside of his skull.

“Fine! If you wanna go that bad, I’ll come along. I know that you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Awesome! You can pick me up later, I gotta go get ready.” You blow him a kiss that he pretends to bat away. “Be on time!”

“Maybe!” You reply, knowing full well you won’t.

You let Jacob into the tiny space that is your dorm room at seven fifty-five sharp, dressed in an oversized t-shirt that might have once been his.

“Is that my t-shirt?” He asks instead of a greeting.

“Who knows,” you reply getting back to your make-shift make-up station on the ground in front of your desk. Jacob plops down on your bed.

“Watch it,” you say, throwing him a piercing gaze through the mirror, “I was gonna wear that!” He gets back up immediately, looking at the mess on your bed.

“All… one, two… six of these dresses?” He asks.

“Don’t get smart with me. Obviously not. But I haven’t picked one yet. What do you think?” He takes a closer look at the heap of clothes and is immediately transported back to the last (and only) time that he helped you get ready for a party like this. He’d already been apprehensive that night, favouring a comfortable night-in with his best friend over a crowded, rowdy place of strangers. But the way your eyes lit up with the prospect of mingling made him cave, just like today. Of course, the party turned out less than ideal. So much so that it kept you from insisting taking him to another one for the better part of your university life. He should thank his lucky stars that it lasted this long. Jacob knows he could have refused you today. He could have insisted that he still felt uncomfortable, that parties simply weren’t his cup of tea. And you would have given in, easily and with the same smile as always, happy to spend the night lounging in one of your dorm rooms. Be that as it may, he also knows he couldn’t have said no to you even if it had cost him his arm. He just wants to see you happy, he thinks. And so he takes the red dress up first, ready to play stylist for you if it’s what you want. The dress pretty, but the neckline makes him a little nervous. Jacob puts it back down to look at one of the black ones instead. It glitters softly if he turns it in the light. He tries to gauge your reaction to any of the dresses by throwing a glance into the mirror but you’re completely engrossed in drawing a straight wing with your eyeliner.

It looks good, he thinks. And the glittery makeup would probably look really nice with the dress he’s holding right now. Just to be sure, he decides to take a look at the other three, holding up a dark blue piece and another black one (just how many of these do you own?).

“What do you think?” You say, directly next to his ear, and Jacob flinches, causing his shoulder to hit you in the jaw.

“Shit! Sorry!” He says but you’re only laughing. He gets temporarily blinded by the sparkle in your eye. Maybe you should cool it a little with the glittery make-up. He stutters, “Umm…”

“You good?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“It’s fine, Jake. Nothing a little plastic surgery couldn’t fix.” You’re rubbing your chin in such exaggerated suffering that he knows you’re fine. “I just need to know which dress I should wear so that we’re not even later than we already are.”

“Who’s fault is that?” He nags.

“Well, I would’ve hurried more if you had picked a dress more quickly.”

“I did pick a dress quickly.”

“Yeah? Which one?” There’s a split second in which Jacob feels self-conscious about his choice. He’s usually so adept at pin-pointing the things you’re going to like, but the way you look at him with your hair and face all done-up makes him falter a little. The next second, he’s almost mad at himself. How ridiculous of him to fear that you would ever think of less of him for his opinion, much less disregard it.

“This one,” he says, holding up the black one.

“Oooh, sparkles!” Is your only comment. You hold it in front of your body in the mirror. But instead of agreeing with his choice you look back at him again.

“What is Juyeon’s favourite colour?” The question takes Jacob so by surprise that he doesn’t even manage to stop himself from answering, “blue.”

“Okay,” you toss the brilliant, black piece back onto your bed unceremoniously and grab the dark blue one. You stare at him with those intense eyes and Jacob can’t help the thought that, as stunning as you look now, he prefers you with no make-up on. He only notices that he’s still staring when you clear your throat.

“Huh?”

“Could you turn around?”

“Oh shoot, yeah, sure,” he says, spinning around, glad that you won’t see how his face heats up. Maybe it’s your stupid make-up or the fact that you’re clearly getting ready with thoughts of Juyeon on your mind but Jacob is feeling like the air in the room has gotten a lot thicker. He wonders shortly whether he should tell you that he thinks you’re better than doing all this for a man, choosing your dress according to his preferences, dolling yourself up for Juyeon instead of for yourself. But when he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it, prompting him to turn around.

“Ok, done. What do you think?”

Jacob thinks he’ll be hard pressed to keep Juyeon, or anyone’s, eager hands off of you.

The two of you make it to the party only five minutes short of an hour late. Haknyeon is the one to open the door, letting you know where to find snacks, the beer pong table, and the drinks. He looks you up and down, making you wonder if there’s something wrong with your dress. Jacob steps closer to you, one arm on your elbow. He continues to stick close to your side, while you two get a feel for the place. There seems to be a game of truth or dare going on the floor of the living room and Jacob easily steers you away from it.

He hands you some form of alcohol in a red solo cup. You give it a sip, “ooh, it’s good.”

“Don’t let it out your sight. There’s not only team mates here, but also a bunch of people I don’t know well.” You chuckle.

“Ok, mom.”

Eventually, you loose your best friend in the crowd, in what looks suspiciously like a whisking away by his team mates. Possibly to get him to do a keg stand. You chuckle, thinking back to the first and only time you attended one of these after-match parties in your first semester with Jacob. The secret to why Jacob was so adamant about avoiding team parties was a less than stellar escapade with the beer keg in his freshman year that none of his older team mates would let him forget. Before you can try to go looking for him in a much needed rescue attempt, someone taps you on the shoulder. You spin around to be faced with Juyeon, in a leather jacket, open over a skin-tight shirt that leaves little to the imagination.

“Hey,” he greets you, “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

“You should know that I’m always down for a little get-together.”

He laughs, “this isn’t exactly the right place then.”

“Well, as long as there’s people I like around.”

Juyeon smirks, resting his forearm against the wall next to your head and leaning into you.

“Some more than others, maybe?” He whispers under his voice. You can smell the vodka-o on his breath but it doesn’t really bother you. You mirror his smirk, leaning a little more forward.

“The jury’s still out on that, but if someone were to get me a new drink, I’d definitely warm up to them.” He snatches your empty solo cup out of your hand immediately.

“I’ll be right back,” he winks, making a beeline for the kitchen. You bite your lips in anticipation of where this night might lead but your thoughts are rudely interrupted by a familiar voice, “You look silly.” Your best friend’s expression betrays another close call with the keg. His eyes, usually bright and soft, have darkened.

“Rude!”

“What’s got you grinning like an idiot like that?”

“Oh just this and that.”

“Is ‘this and that’ roughly 1,80 tall, mildly annoying on a good day, and our best middle blocker?”

“Don’t let him hear that, it’ll get to his head.”

“Men are trash after all,” your best friend says, his face still impassionate. You bump hips with him in an effort to get him out of his funk. “But some are a little less trash,” you wink at him and he finally gives you a smile.

“I don’t really know if I should feel offended or flattered.”

Jacob keeps you company until Juyeon returns with your solo cup, filled to the brim and reeking of alcohol. You take a sip and try not to grimace from the taste. Seems like he threw every type of alcohol he could find in the kitchen into one cup and topped it off with an inch of sprite.

“Thanks,” you say anyway.

“Have you seen the pond in Haknyeon’s backyard yet? It’s the second prettiest thing tonight.” He winks and you you can’t help but giggle. Behind you, quiet enough for Juyeon not to catch it, Jacob pretends to retch. The middle blocker holds an arm out for you to take and leads you to the garden. You miss the forlorn expression on Jacob’s face.

“I think Jacob’s best friend is super cute,” one of his team mates says, making the boy in question wheel around. “What?” He asks, incredulously, before he can stop himself. Mark looks over at him from where he’s changing. “Sorry, dude,” he chuckles, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Lucas chimes in, “at our last game she was wearing that tight t-shirt—“

“Stop… talking, please,” Jacob says, still all smiles, even though the way his team mates are talking about you makes his throat constrict. Lucas seems to either not catch his tone or choose to ignore it. “Her friend’s not bad either, huge pair of—“

“Oh my god, Lucas,” Jacob interrupts. Mark is starting to look very unhappy with where he took the conversation. Lucas just looks confused at Jacob’s reaction. “What? Are the friends of your friends also off-limits now?”

“No,” Jacob replies in between deep calming breaths, “I’d just appreciate it, if you didn’t talk about women like that in general. No matter who they are.” Lucas seems to really work through those words in his head before he shrugs his shoulders, “Ok.” Jacob is almost certain he heard Mark sigh relief.

When you meet him outside the changing room, as you always do, you have no idea about the conversations that had just happened inside the locker room. You give him a big hug, which Jacob cleverly uses to stare down Mark behind your back, who had been lingering a little too long for his liking.

“You did so well!” You say, also as always. Jacob doesn’t have it in himself to negate your gushing praises today. “Thanks,” he simply breathes, with a smile. You walk home together, another daily ritual, except today you take a detour to try out a new café you’d been talking about for ages. It’s supposed to have super cute interior and be the new hotspot in town. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. He always treasures these small moments. You’re in the final strokes of your junior year now, and time is getting increasingly scarce between both of your academic and leisurely commitments.

“You find a table, I’ll go order,” Jacob says and you agree immediately, already on the lookout for one of the lounging chairs on the deck in front of the building. He makes his way inside, immediately glad you decided to sit outside in the sun. The huge glass front of the café makes the interior feel like a hundred degrees. He walks over to the counter and is surprised to be greeted by a familiar face.

“Mrs. Oropeza, I didn’t expect to see you here!” He greets the elderly lady. She smiles warmly, the same smile she’s always smiled, ever since babysitting him when he was little. It’s been a constant fixture in his and your life to run over to her house in the neighbourhood in search of freshly baked pudín, a place to watch Sunday TV volleyball matches or a shoulder to cry on over scraped knees. Once Jacob took up volleyball in middle school, she made sure to come to all of his matches. She insisted it was not only for his sake, but also because she loved the sport.

“Well, it’s grown so quiet in the neighbourhood that I’ve been longing for a chance to get out again.”

“So you started working here?”

“Just sometimes. It’s not hard work to man the register, and I enjoy getting to talk to people.” Jacob smiled at her warm expression. He didn’t doubt that her positive presence would do the café well. “So what can I get you today, cariño?”

“I think I’ll take a latte, and one homemade lemonade for my friend.”

“Oh, how lovely. Are you two still as inseparable as ever?”

Jacob smiles fondly at the memories of the two of you together on Mrs. Oropeza’s old, orange couch, munching on her baked goods while watching cartoons. “Yeah,” he says, smiling fondly, “we’re on our way home from one of my games.”

“Ah, I heard you were playing the Tigers today. A terrible team, in my opinion. No sportsmanship.” Jacob chuckled at her committed interest in high school volleyball teams.

“Who said that?” He laughs.

“I did,” she winks at him while ringing him up and telling the part-timer next to her his order. He hands her the cash as she inquires about the outcome of the game. “We won,” he says, his chest swelling with pride a little. He was sure that Mrs. Oropeza had heard about how infamous their opposing team was for their power and endurance.

“Of course you did. I always keep telling you the setter is the centre point of every good team. He’s the game master, without a good setter, the rest of the team has an infinitely harder team.” Jacob only nods amiably as he listens to his old neighbours often repeated chorus. “And you were always a brilliant setter,” she continues, making his cheeks burns.

“I tell all the ladies at my book club, as far as high school volleyball goes, you haven’t seen a perfect set, if you haven’t seen Jacob Bae play.” At this point, the boy in question is sure that his entire face is bright red. He waves his hand in a throw-away motion while trying to dissuade Mrs. Oropeza from uttering any more praises. He’s lucky because she seems to sense his discomfort with being the centre of attention. She let’s him go with a simple, ‘say hello to your other half for me’.

next | series masterlist | general masterlist

#the boyz #jacob #jacob bae #bae jacob #jacob x reader #tbz jacob x reader #the boyz jacob x reader #tbz jacob

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iamthenerdqueen · 8 months

Text

The Red String of Faith - Chapter X

Idol!AteezXOCs Soulmates!ot8AteezXOCs OCXOC Slight Social Media AU!

MDNI 18+ ONLY

slight twigger warnings:Polyamory, group of 10, two OC's -feel free to replace one OC with yourself if you'd like- , listen this is an idea me and my best friend had and is something for fun read at own risk, not edited as always, also we are starting to explore themes such as bxb and gxg if thats not for you, this story may not be for you.

Chapter V, Chapter VI, Chapter VII, Chapter VIII, Chapter IX. Next

While Lia was getting her world rocked, Lyra was actually going on the date she and Mingi had haphazardly planned.

“Listen, you’re probably the only person I’ve met who hates cream cheese like I do and cream in savory food. It just gives me the ick,” Lyra said across the table to Mingi as they ate their dinner.

Really it had started a little awkward as they were trying to determine where to get food, both of them being not picky but also very attached to their comfort foods. Eventually, they came across a small restaurant that seemed to have a diverse enough menu and seemed private enough that it was comfortable for them.

“Exactly, there is something just gross about food with cream cheese as the base and cream. I like cheese in some things just not as the main thing in a dish,” Mingi said while chewing on a piece of his steak.

“Like we were saying earlier, we are not picky eaters, just not adventurous eaters.” Lyra said to him before giggling as he tried to wink at her across the table, it just ended up with him blinking at her. Their whole night had been like this, honestly since they had started getting ready in their hotel room they had been giggling or making each other laugh. Part of it was they hadn’t spent as much time together as they would have liked and were a bit awkward with each other, the other part was they were quickly finding that they were so similar it was impossible not to laugh.

They just sat there for a while chatting, going back and forth learning about one another, observing the others habits

“I’m sorry i’m eating so slowly, I-”

“You don’t need to apologize, you’re not eating too slow. I’m a fast eater, enjoy your food and take all the time you need or want, Bub.” Mingi just smiled at her as he continued to eat.

“Why do the two of you call me that, actually why do you have a nickname for all of us?” Mingi’s question was more than valid, they really had just been spitting out nicknames for the boys left and right.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure. It’s just something we’ve always done, well Lia started it when we were younger and it became a habit for both of us. It’s how we show some of our love I guess,” Lyra smiled at him and softly began to play with the fingers of his left hand that rested on the table between them.

“I like it, it makes me feel special,” there was something so charming in the way he smiled at her in that moment, it was almost hard to describe. It wasn’t like the sexy grins he would flash on stage, no this was something different. It made Lyra’s heart race and she could feel the heat rushing toward her cheeks.

This was all very different for Lyra, she had never been on a legitimate date before. Nothing like this, at least. Sure she had gone out with people, but there were never any real dates or anything where someone else had shown interest in her.

The waiter came and quietly left the bill on the edge of their table, before walking away to give them their privacy. Lyra reached over to her purse and began to pull out her wallet, she had full intent to pay. By the time she had gotten her card out of her wallet, Mingi was already handing the bill back to the waiter as he passed by the table.

“Uh, excuse me sir, I was going to pay,” Lyra said a little bewildered at how fast he had paid the bill.

“Sorry Doll, but you can’t pay tonight. I asked you on this date, so everything is my treat tonight.” Mingi was incredibly smooth when he wanted to be. In the next few minutes they were on their way out of the small restaurant and on their way to see the Paris nightlife.

The one thing Lyra loved about cities , especially ones as old as Pairs, was being able to walk everywhere and here there was so much history in the stones under their feet that made the nerdy side of Lyra come out just a little more than average. The real struggle was containing the urge to share all of her random ass facts stored away in her brain about Paris.

Lyra was losing the battle with herself pretty majorly as they walked towards the Champ de Mars gardens to sit and watch the Eiffel Tower light up the dark night sky,

“Did you know that it wasn't Marie Antoninette who said the famous quote ‘let them eat cake’ but it actually traces back to Jean-Jacques Rousseau about 24-years before the French revolution when Marie would have been 9 years-old or so.” Lyra was kinda rambling at this point but Mingi just listened with a small smile on his face and grabbed her hand in his as they walked. Mingi had a mask on his face, plus he had worn his glasses and had purposefully chosen some nondescript clothing. He wasn’t trying to hide that he was out on a date, no he really just didn’t want anyone to interrupt them or to take pictures of Lyra without her being able to make that choice.

“How do you remember so much? It’s like the whole world is locked away inside your brain, it’s so cute.” The mask on his face obstructed Lyra's view of his expressions, but she knew he was smiling from the way his eyes crinkled and the way his entire face lifted with his words.

They kept walking toward the gardens, playfully swinging their intertwined hands between the two of them. Their shoulders brushing against one another from time to time, it was the simple pleasure of just being with each other. It was peaceful to just walk with each other and to have this little romantic moment.

Mingi was even nice enough to place his own jacket on the ground so they could sit and look at the tower before them. It was one thing to see it during the day, but at night it was something completely different. Everything was as if they were two completely different people, no major things hanging over their heads. In this moment they were just two soulmates, together having a romantic date thinking about all the wonderful things they could do in this life with their 8 other partners.

“I was surprised when you asked me on a date earlier,” Lyra let him know as they stared up at the lights.

“Why? I was so nervous, I thought you’d say no,” He had pulled his mask down so they could talk a little more intimately and so they could read each other's facial expressions a bit better.

“I would never say no to a date with any of you, I love spending time with you. Every moment I get to spend with y’all is something I cherish and besides how else would I have figured out we both hate cream based foods.” Lyra laughed as she quickly kissed Mingi cheek and rested her head on his shoulder.

“But why were you surprised that I asked you out?” He asked her again a little more pointed this time.

“I’ve never been asked on a date before, I mean i’ve been on dates but either I had to ask to go on the date or it was more of a ‘lets hang out’ sort of thing,” Lyra said from her spot snuggled into his side

“How is that even possible?” Mingi was truly astonished at what she had just told him, it really made no sense that he was the first person to ever take her out on a date like this.

“Lots of reasons, Lia and I were two total opposites when we were teenages. I was the outcast and she was the popular girl. It’s a wonder we became friends before finding out we were soulmates. I was a very….” Lyra stopped for a minute obviously thinking back to that time in her life, “very weird kid. I liked all the nerdy things and had a very hard time making friends until Lia. I had a couple friends of course, but I was way too awkward so everyone treated me like the little weird kid.”

Lyra’s words hurt his heart a little, he knew what it was like to not be the most liked during school. It was never easy to be treated like that. But he didn’t say anything as she spoke, he just listened as she continued.

“I remember boys used to ask me out as a joke, something that could make all the other kids laugh. Every time it happened I felt a little part of me break and hide somewhere dark. I never felt pretty enough or well liked. I wore a hoodie everyday in highschool, even when it was over a hundred degrees outside. I became mean and harsh to everyone I didn’t consider a friend. I did my best to not be seen and to not see anyone else. I thought I was so ugly, that I would never be worthy of anything. Then Lia came into my life like a goddamn storm as she does anyone's life. Even as only my friend she never let me think for one second that anyone could make me feel less than. Reminded me all the time that I was worthy of anything I wanted and that I was beautiful,” Lyra stopped for a second to laugh a little bit, “I still don’t really buy the beautiful bit, but she changed my life and helped me find those parts I had hidden away. Looking back, I could have been a totally different person in high school if I was just confident in myself.”

Mingi sat, still just watching her. How could anyone, any stupid little boy, think that the person in front of him was anything less than wonderful. He considered himself the luckiest person on the whole earth, each of his soulmates were kind, gorgeous, smart, and they gave themselves so wholly to each other.

“They must be fucking idiots in that town then, because I know I would have had such a crush on you as a kid. Smart and funny, I would have been a fanboy practically. What did teenage Lyra even look like?” Mingi said, trying to lighten the mood and to make sure she knew just how much he wished he could go back a few years and find both of them sooner.

“I think I have my senior picture on my phone. OH! I do have photos of me and Lia from when we went to prom for sure. Let me try and find those,” Lyra said, grabbing her phone and instantly going to her photos app. As She was scrolling she saw that Wooyoung had messaged in their smaller group chat.

“Oh god, I just saw Woo’s messages. Dear god, I knew she was loud but the whole floor, and sir just for those comments. You ain't getting nothing tonight,” Lyra said playfully to Mingi.

Before long they were scrolling through young pictures of themselves, Mingi showing her ones from their days in high school and as trainees while Lyra showed him the ones from when they were in high school as well as some of the ones of her from college. Listen, nothing beats the outfits from bid day.

“All I’m saying is…. It really looks like a cult from my perspective,” Mingi said as Lyra showed him the ones from her last days as a college student.

“Sir, just no. It’s not,” Lyra laughed as he raised his hands in protest. She knew they would be on their way back to the hotel soon, so that he could get a good rest before the chaos that would be the next couple days before they were traveling again. They had already gotten some photos for the Ateez social media of Mingi in front of the giant building behind them, now they were just stalling. Sure they would still be just the two of them, but it felt like the date would be over in a sense once they left.

“Thank you, for bringing me here and wanting to take a little weirdo like me on a date tonight,” Lyra said as they once again were walking down the history-filled streets of Paris, pretending they were any other couple.

“Thank you Lyra, for saying yes. Yes to coming with me tonight, to all of this. You could’ve run, hell any normal person probably would’ve at the idea of having not one but nine soulmates. On top of that they’re idols and come from a country that is across the world. To jump head first into the idea of being with them and moving to the other side of the world just to be close to them.” Mingi stopped the two of them on the sidewalk so he could look at her face as he spoke, “I don’t think I would’ve if I were the two of you. I would’ve been terrified, hell I was when we first realized that the two of you were in the crowd. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing, the whole concert I just kept looking at the thread spilling over the stage over to the two of you. There was one point where both of you had your hands up and were dancing, you were holding each other's hands. I could see the tether to each of you so clearly. I just wanted to run to the two of you then, I was scared. I’m still scared of the unknown, but we're together and that makes it all okay, Lyra.”

Mingi gently titled her up and kissed her. And they stayed like that kissing and being with one another, so purely for a moment. Then Mingi pulled away and rested his forehead against Lyra’s so sweetly.

That's when they felt the first drops of rain fall against their hair, cold and wet. He pulled her back to him as the rain started to fall harder and kissed her again. It was like a scene from an old Hollywood movie, where the girl and the guy find each other once again against all odds.

After a second they heard a crack of thunder in the distance, turning to see where the lighting was and laughed as they began to sprint toward the hotel now only about a block away.

“Hey,” Mingi called a few steps behind Lyra as they came to take shelter under the entryway of the hotel “Lyra, I love you.”

“I love you, Mingi,” Lyra said as she leaned up to kiss him one more time. Before they entered the hotel and made their way back to their room.

After that night Europe passed by like a fever dream, they were constantly busy and on the move. Lia was still filming the content she needed, Lyra was helping the translator as much as she could, and the boys were so busy it seemed like they barely had time to sleep at night.

Before they knew it, the girls were boring their flight heading for South Korea. The plane that would take them to their new home, new life, all the wonderful and hard times ahead.

A/N: Shorter chapter to finish out our first arch of the story, YAY! Some cutesy fluff to follow the smutty smut of last chapter! Next, we will have another one-shot and then the start of arch two! WOOOOO!!!

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