#famfic fluff

[aparticularbandit]

Birdie Dresses Claire

Summary: Because someone has to get Claire out of all that beige, and who better than the fam’s fantastic fashionista?

AO3

“C’mon.  Just one time.”

“Nuh—No.”

Claire doesn’t even look up.  It’s a familiar argument.  Not even argument, that makes it sound like it’s a fight, and it’s not a fight, it’s just something Birdie brings up almost constantly, and every time she brings it up, Claire says no, as is her right, and then they carry on with their lives like this isn’t a constant conversation that she isn’t getting tired of having.

Except that Birdie doesn’t drop it.

To be fair, Birdie never drops it.  She just lets it alone for a little bit like a puppy who’s had a shoe taken away from it (and then brings it back up like the same puppy will always somehow find the shoe, no matter where it gets hidden).  Except this time, she’s not letting it alone.

Birdie drapes herself across Claire’s lap, long legs, long skirt, stretching out to the other side of her, and wraps her bare arms around Claire’s neck.  She smells of coconut and lime and a little bit of booze, which isn’t her fault.  Claire blames Andi for indulging her, but she won’t hold it against her. Andi indulges all of them, within reason.  There are limits.

“Clairebear, you are such a bore.”  Birdie nuzzles into her neck.  “Just once. Fashion’s my thing, Claire.  You would look so good—”

“Are you saying I don’t look good?”  Claire leans back against their couch just enough to stare Birdie in the eyes, brows rising.

Birdie pouts.  “No,” she replies, drawing the word out.  “But you could look better.”

“She’s right, you know.”  Andi comes from wherever she’s been – probably the kitchen, she has a drink in her other hand – and places a hand on Claire’s shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze.  “All of that beige is not becoming, Claire.”

Claire twists to look up at her.  “It’s not all beige!  I have brown!  And white!”

“Color, Claire,” Birdie whines. She pats Claire’s cheek twice, emphasizing her words. “You. need. color.”  Then she takes Claire’s cheeks between her fingers, squeezes, purses Claire’s lips together.  “Say yes.  I’d make you fantastic.”  She tries to move Claire’s jaw, to make her mouth open and close.  When she succeeds, Birdie grins, speaks for her, “Yes, Birdie.  You can do anything you want, Birdie.” Her grin spreads, and she drops her grip.  “Okay! Let’s go!”

“Birdie, it doesn’t work like that—” Claire starts to say, but Birdie prances off to her bedroom anyway, bright grin on her face, not looking back, as if she doesn’t even hear her.

Andi just gives Claire’s shoulder another squeeze.  “Indulge her, Claire,” she says, leaning down against the back of the couch, folding her arms under her head, and staring out after their friend. “She’s never going to drop it until you do.”

“Yes, but if I give in, she’s just going to try again later.  You know.  One more time, I did such a good job last time, you should always let me dress you—”

“Well, you should always let her dress you.” Andi gives Claire a sharp but not cruel look.  “Your clothes make you look so washed out and pasty.”

Claire frowns, crossing her arms.  “It makes me look nonthreatening.  Which is important in the political sphere.  You just wouldn’t get it.”

Andi nods slow.  “That is exactly why our wonderful First Lady, Michelle Obama, only ever wore boring, colorless clothes.”  She raises a finger.  “Oh, wait. She didn’t.”

“I’m no Michelle Obama, Andi—”

“But you could be, Claire.” Andi reaches over, squeezes her shoulder again, and gives her a little shake.  “It’s not like Birdie’s asking you to go out in whatever she puts you in. She just wants to play Barbie with her real life best friend.”  She squints and leans towards her.  “You’re just scared you’re going to like it.”

Claire’s frown deepens, her brow furrowing.  “I’m not scared of anything.”

Except that…isn’t really true.  She’s scared of a lot of things.  In particular, she’s scared of losing the tentative gains she’s made in Connecticut politics, of scaring off voters by wearing clothes that are a little too bold, of jeopardizing her chances of running for Senate in a few years’ time.  Claire knows better than anyone that politics is a game with an ever-shifting goalpost, and while she thinks – she knows – that she can affect good change in her state, in her country (and she’s seen it, she’s seen the good she’s been able to do, especially as governor, and she just wants to take that and build on it), she’s constantly worried that the slightest unintended slip-up will set her back to where she was when Andi found her – on the city council, barely, because there’d been a mix-up with the guy who should’ve been in her spot and so she’d won by default, not because the voters liked her, unable to go anywhere no matter how hard she tried.

It isn’t that Claire is innately unlikeable; it’s that she’s always had a hard time phrasing her passion in ways that actually connect with people. People are the hard part.  She’s not good at people.

Well.

She’s good with these people, but not with people in general.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Andi repeats, soothing.  “It’s just here.  With us. We’re not going to tell anybody.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Birdie’s going to take a picture, and she’s going to post it to one of her social media accounts, and it’s going to get spread everywhere—”

Andi holds up a pink phone in one hand.  “Not if I have her phone, she won’t.”

“Fine.”  Claire shivers, forces it down.  “Fine.  You win.” She pushes her hands into the couch cushion, pushes herself up, and turns to Andi.  “But only because you have her phone.  If she gets a picture—”

“She won’t.”  Andi grins, winks.  “But I might.”

“Andi—”

“Just to remind myself that you look good when you get out of your comfort zone.”  Andi reaches across, gives her a shove.  “Now go. Birdie’s waiting—”

“Claire!” Birdie calls from down the hallway, drawing Claire’s name out just as long as she can make it. “Where are you?  I’ve been getting everything ready—”

“Just a minute—”

“You only say that when you’re not coming!”

Claire can hear the pout in Birdie’s voice. She sighs, pushes her hands through her hair, and gives Andi a look.  “If this goes poorly, it’s your fault.”

“I will take the blame.”  Andi spreads her hands out to either side of her.  “Now go.”  She makes a shooing motion with one hand.  “You know how Birdie gets when she’s waiting too long.”

Claire sighs again.  But she goes.

~

“Okay, okay, okay, sit there,” Birdie starts, pressing gently on Claire’s shoulders so that she falls onto the chair waiting for her, “and close your eyes.”

Claire does not close her eyes.  She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows.  “I can’t just close my eyes, Birdie.  I have to put on the dress—”

“I can do that for you.”  Birdie waves a hand dismissively.  “I’m very good at dressing and undressing people.  Very good.”  She grins and leans forward, placing a hand on each arm of Claire’s chair.  “You’d know that if you ever let me—”

“Stop.”  Claire flushes bright red but doesn’t avert her eyes.  “Just pick the dress and I can put it on and—”

Birdie pouts again.

“What?”  Claire glances over Birdie’s shoulder to the huge closet full of clothes she’s pretty sure she’s only seen Birdie wear once.  It seems like such a waste to her, putting all that money and effort into an outfit that she won’t wear again, but then again, she’s not the one into fashion, Birdie is.  “Your clothes aren’t going to fit me anyway.”

It’s one thing for Birdie to pout; it’s quite another thing entirely for her to roll her eyes and give a little shake of her head.  “Trust me.  I’m not stupid.”

Claire doesn’t say anything.  It won’t do any good.  As much as she loves Birdie, telling her that her brain cells are in another castle will not go over well.  Instead, her gaze rests on all of the clothes, none of which will fit, and then she sighs.  Closing her eyes might be the best option here, actually.  Then she won’t have to see what Birdie is getting for her.  She sighs, forces herself to relax, and closes her eyes.  “Okay,” she says, rolling her lips together.  “I’ll trust you.”

Birdie giggles.  “No peeking.”

The chair creaks as she takes her hands from its arms, and despite what Birdie literally just told her, Claire cracks one eye open to see Birdie dancing into the closet, pressing something in the middle of a lot of clothes, and opening a hidden door behind which are more clothes, ones that she’s never seen Birdie wear before.  Then Birdie starts to turn, and she shuts her eyes tight closed again.

It takes a few minutes, and in that time, Claire’s arms slowly uncross and rest on the arms of the chair instead, fingers digging into the wood and then tapping lightly on it.  She takes a deep breath in, crosses her legs ladylike at the ankle, and then uncrosses them, taps her toes on the rug Birdie’s spread out over the hardwood floor. At least it’s soft.

“Birdie?”

“Hold on, hold on, I’m coming.”

Claire doesn’t have to see Birdie to know that she’s prancing through the clothes to her, that she’s running her fingers along the fabric, so when something is unexpectedly plopped into her lap, she jumps.  “What is—”

“Don’t open your eyes!”

Claire snaps her eyes shut again, unaware that she’d instinctively started to open them. Her lips press together again. “What am I supposed to do with this if I can’t see it?  It’s just—”

“Oh, yeah, right.”  Birdie picks whatever she’d just plopped in Claire’s lap up and does something else with it – Claire can hear the clink of the hanger, so she’s probably just put it somewhere else – and then grabs Claire’s wrists and pulls her out of the chair.  “Strip.”

Everything else has been a suggestion.  Claire can say no to suggestions.  Or requests.  Kindnesses. Birdie just asking her for things.  Not gentle or kind or whatever, just Birdie being who she normally is.

This, though, is not a suggestion.

This is a command.

Claire swallows.  Hard.

Then she turns, pulls her hair to one side, and says, voice soft, “Unzip me.” Swallows again, lowers her head, says even more quietly, “Please.”

Birdie hums pleasantly as she unzips the back of Claire’s dress.  Her fingers linger at the bottom of the zipper, and again, that commanding voice, even if it’s only meant as a question, it isn’t one, “Can I take this off you?”

Claire just nods.

This isn’t fair.  That’s what she’s thinking – what she’s trying to focus on – as she keeps her eyes shut, as Birdie’s hands push the sleeves off of her arms, as the dress falls down at her feet.  It’s not like she and Birdie haven’t shared a changing room together before.  There was that time when Duke thought they should all get into exercise, and they’d all humored him, at least for a little bit, and joined a gym, and they’d gone the full nine yards – gym clothes, changing in the locker room, that sort of thing.  It was the first time she’d seen the tattoo along Andi’s side, the first time she’d noticed how unmarked Birdie’s skin was – which, you know, of course.  Model. She couldn’t have scars or tattoos or anything like that.  She had to be flawless.  Claire just hadn’t noticed it before.

She’d been very good at not noticing it since then.

Claire steps carefully out of the dress now piled on the floor, and she feels Birdie at her feet, just as carefully picking the dress up and probably laying it out flat somewhere so that it won’t get wrinkled (she is always very considerate where clothes are concerned).  Then Birdie’s hands are on her bare hips, just at the edge of her underwear, and when she lets out a frustrated little hum, Claire asks, “What?” She tries not to snap, but given the current state of her nerves, she can’t be sure it doesn’t come out that way.

“I like the black lace better—”

“Birdie, that was one time.”

Lies.  It’s been multiple times.  But it’d only been once that Claire hadn’t had time between the gym and her date, and there’d been showers at the gym, so she’d thought it was fine to just bring the lingerie with her.  Andi had been nice enough to not comment on anything, but Birdie had just appraised her.  Like she’d needed that.  Like she’d needed Birdie to tell her it looked good.

(She hadn’t needed it, but it had been nice, and even now, Claire can feel her cheeks warming, flushing with the memory of it, with Birdie’s current admittance. Even if she knows Birdie doesn’t mean anything by it.  It’s still nice to hear.)

“—and I’m gonna need you to change this.”  Birdie runs a finger along one of the straps of Claire’s bra, tucks her finger under it, and gives it a little snap.  “You can’t have this.”

Claire hesitates.  “I don’t have another one with me, and I don’t think I want to put on that dress without a bra.”  She presses her lips together, gives a little shake of her head. “Unless there’s one built into it—”

“Ew, gross, no,” Birdie interrupts before Claire has a chance to finish.  “I’ve got one you can use.”

Again, Claire hesitates.  This should go without saying, but she says it anyway, “Birdie, I’m not….”  She winces.  “I’m not your size, hon.”

Again, Birdie sighs, and Claire imagines her rolling her eyes again. “Clairebear, I’m going to tell you a secret,” she says, wrapping her arms around Claire’s waist and resting her head on her shoulder, “but you’ve got to promise you’re not going to tell anybody.”

Claire couldn’t promise anything right now.  She can’t say anything right now that wouldn’t come out as incoherent mumbling because she’s not sure if she’s comfortable with this or uncomfortable with this.  Birdie, do you even realize—

Birdie begins to play with Claire’s hair, wrapping strands of it around one finger, and if Claire thought she could say anything, she certainly can’t now.  “So you remember how I used to fix everyone’s clothes?”

It’s been a while, but Claire remembers.  Back when everyone had first met, when they’d first become friends, when Andi had convinced them it would be cheaper if they all moved into a little house together, and then they could pull their resources to help each other out (and she’d been right, but it had been weird, like living in a frat house, sometimes, with Duke in the basement and the sort of bro-ship he’d built up with Lionel), Birdie set herself up as their tailor.  It was one of the things she was trying – looking at fashion from the clothes side of things instead of the model side of things – and it helped her to practice on their clothes…and when she got good at it, it had helped them to have clothes tailored to fit each of them specifically, even if they just got cheap jeans from Walmart, because it made them look sharper.  More capable.  And Birdie had gone from tailoring their clothes to making some of her own design, and—

Claire swallows once.  Nods. “I remember.”

“I, uh.  I still have all of your sizes.”  Birdie giggles, buries her head in the slope of Claire’s neck, smiles against her skin, and then continues, “Not just yours, but.  All of us? So sometimes, when I’m really bored, I just.”  The fingers of the hand still around Claire’s waist drum against her skin.  “Peg says it’s good to keep me busy doing something that isn’t Twitter.”  She slumps, pouts.  “Bras are harder to make, but I can do it.”

“You….”  Claire takes a moment, wets her lips.  “You make us clothes.”

Birdie nods.  “Mmhm.”

“And you don’t…you didn’t tell any of us about this.”

Birdie nods again.  “Mmhm.” Her head tilts.  “Well, I think Andi knows, but she asks for stuff from me.  You don’t.  Duke never does.  Lionel does sometimes, but only when he’s already found something he likes and just can’t get it in the right color.” Without thinking, she scowls, bites soft into Claire’s shoulder, hangs there for a second.  “That’s not the same, though,” she mutters into Claire’s skin.

Claire swallows again.  The worst thing about Birdie – the absolute worst thing about Birdie – is that she doesn’t mean anything by this.  Being handsy.  Setting her teeth into Claire’s shoulder.  It’s just her.  And yet Claire still shivers when she does it, like she does mean something when she knows – she knows – she doesn’t.  “So you’re saying you have a bra.  For me.  For this dress you’ve made?”

“I didn’t make the dress.”  Birdie unhooks her teeth from Clarie’s shoulder, and Claire resists the urge to turn to her, to open her eyes, because she already knows the confused expression Birdie is wearing.  “You’re not ready for the dress I made for you.”

Somehow, this does not make Claire feel any better about this whole letting Birdie dress her thing.

“But I made a bra—”

Birdie’s warm hand moves from her waist, and as she scurries off back to the closet, Claire shivers with the weight of her disappearance, with the sudden cold air against her back in the absence of Birdie being pressed against her. She hesitates, turns, sits, changes her mind (the chair is so cold against her bare legs, against her bare back), and stands again, wrapping her arms around herself.  It’s harder not to open her eyes now, standing half-naked in the middle of Birdie’s room.  She hears Birdie approaching before Birdie can say anything, and she flinches.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Claire.”  Birdie places a thin scrap of fabric in her hands.  “Here, hold this.”

“What do you mean hold this, Birdie, what are you going to—”

Birdie presses up against her again, from the front this time, and wraps her hands around to fidget with the back of Claire’s bra.

Claire flushes what must be an even brighter red, though she can’t see it; her cheeks grow so hot that she’s certain she can’t be doing anything else. “I can get that myself—”

“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it.”  Birdie’s fingers brush along Claire’s skin as she unclasps Claire’s bra, and then she steps just enough away that she isn’t pressed against her anymore, but her fingers still brush along Claire’s skin, this time along her shoulders as she starts to brush the bra straps off.

Immediately, Claire covers her chest with her arms and turns away from Birdie. “Don’t look!”

Birdie makes a tsking sound.  “You’ve got nice tits, Claire.  You shouldn’t be ashamed of—”

“They’re not for you to look at!”

Claire hunches over, arms still covering her chest, eyes squeezed shut, this time not because Birdie asked her to keep them closed but because she needs them to be closed.  She breathes heavy, quick, forces herself to slow.  “You can’t just…you can’t just take someone’s bra off for them.  It’s not…it’s not….”  She can’t even finish the sentence.

“Claire.”  Birdie’s fingers lightly touch her shoulder, and when Claire doesn’t flinch away or shake them off, she places her whole hand there.  “I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”  Claire takes a deep breath, forces herself to steady.  “Just…just let me do my bra myself, okay?  You can do the rest.  I won’t….” She swallows again, catches the tear in her eye before it can fall.  “You can do the rest.”

“Okay.”  Birdie squeezes Claire’s shoulder as gently as she can.  “I’ll look away, just let me.  You’ll let me know?  Um. When you’re done?”

Claire nods.  She’s certain Birdie’s seen it before she turns.  She hopes Birdie’s seen it before she turns.  She just can’t force herself to say anything.

As she lets her bra drop – only halfway on the floor because it half lands on her bare feet – Birdie says, voice oddly not soft and oddly chipper, “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Sure, Birdie is just the sort of person that Claire should talk about her pre-existing trauma with.  Yes. Perfect decision. Birdie who…can keep a secret, when it’s important, and so would like be able to keep this to herself, too, if Claire asked her, if she wanted to talk about it in the first place.  But she doesn’t.  It’s something that happened, once, a very long time ago, and she doesn’t want to talk about it.  Ever.  Ever.

For maybe the first time, Birdie hears the word no and doesn’t press.  It’s…it’s nice, actually, in a surprising sort of way.  It’s always nice when someone doesn’t press, but it’s especially so when it’s Birdie.

Claire fiddles with the strap of fabric that Birdie gave her, brows furrowing, and then asks, “Can I at least open my eyes enough to get this on?”

Silence.  Then, “Yeah, yeah, sure, sorry, you can’t see me nod” followed by, as Claire starts to open her eyes, “Hold on!”  Birdie scurries in front of her, saying, “I’m not looking, I’m not looking!” pauses for a second just in front of her, “Still not looking!” although by this time, Claire has covered her breasts with her arms again and hunched over, which means when Birdie scurries past her again, she just bonks her head.  “Ow, Claire, I told you I wasn’t looking!”

“I have my eyes closed, I can’t just—”

You could trust me, Birdie doesn’t say, will never say, because that’s the thing of it, isn’t it? That Claire doesn’t trust her? Certainly Claire doesn’t trust her the way that Birdie trusts her?  And that Birdie will never call her out for it, never really press her on it, because no matter how much it might bug her, it will never be to the point that she will ask.  Because maybe, for Birdie, that doesn’t matter nearly as much as everything else does.  Birdie trusts her so that she doesn’t need to be trusted.

That’s cyclical logic.  Claire’s not certain that it tracks.  A lot of things don’t track where Birdie is concerned.

Claire sighs.  “I can look now?”

Another silence followed, again, with “Go ahead!  Forgot you couldn’t see me.”

Claire opens her eyes and immediately relaxes her shoulders, lets out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, feels the tension roll off of her aching back.  It’s that trust thing.  For all that she says she trusts Birdie, her body carries the weight of her lie. Well, that and the tension that Birdie keeps ratcheting up by touching her without realizing that—

Ahem.

“It fits,” Claire says, voice soft, once she has the bra in place. It’s a little snug, sure, but in the best sort of way.  She doesn’t feel like it will give her any trouble breathing, and she doesn’t feel like if she walks in it too much then it will fall.  Jumping would be the best sort of test for this, but Claire doesn’t really do jumping anymore.  She takes a deep breath, reminds herself that Birdie would never intentionally do anything to hurt her, and closes her eyes.  “You can look.”

She doesn’t have to see it, because Claire knows Birdie well enough to know that she’s grinning when she places her hands on Claire’s shoulder and turns her to face her again.  “Beautiful.”

Birdie says it in the same tone that someone might say perfect, but Claire wants her to be saying that she’s beautiful.

That’s all she’s ever wanted, really.

~

The dress that Claire still can’t see is soft.  It sweeps across her chest at a sharp angle, leaves one of her arms completely bare but covers the other entirely.  Something cinches at her waist, accents it, and that terrifies her. She doesn’t know why.  Her hands clasp together in her lap, fingers tap-tapping against each other.  That helps. She tells herself that it helps.

It doesn’t help.

Birdie runs a thumb along Claire’s lower lip, pressing color into it.  Her breath runs hot along Claire’s skin. She’s focused on Claire, and despite everything, Claire is focused on her.  Birdie leans back, away from her, and there’s the slightest of clicks – a cap on top of a stick of lipstick, probably – and another like the closing of a compact mirror.

This part should be easier; Claire has make-up artists who make sure she looks good for each and every one of her interviews, her debates, her television appearances.  But it isn’t – her make-up artists don’t touch her the way that Birdie is touching her now, has been touching her throughout this entire thing.  It’s like Birdie doesn’t understand what a make-up brush is.  Even now, she brushes a thumb gentle along Claire’s eyelid, making what are hopefully final touch ups, while humming something idly.

Then Birdie steps away and doesn’t come back.

“Finished?” Claire asks, voice hesitant and soft.

“Mm.  Your hair’s a mess.”  Birdie comes closer again, breath hot along Claire’s neck, and pushes her hands through Claire’s hair before moving away again.  “I’ll fix it.”

“Birdie—”

“Five minutes, Claire.”

“It’s been hours.”

Claire actually has no idea how long it’s been.  You’d think with her eyes closed for this long, she would have taken a nap or something, but it’s impossible to take a nap with Birdie running her fingers all over her face.  (It’s impossible to take a nap without relaxing, and although Claire has tried to relax, has forced her shoulders to lower, her clenched fingers to loosen up, it never lasts long.  This is probably why she wakes up so often with a horrible backache – even in her sleep, she can’t relax.)

But then Birdie’s back again, pulling Claire’s hair away from her shoulders, running her fingers through it, pressing them like a massage into Claire’s head, and Claire presses her lips together hard to keep from letting out any sound to indicate that she is enjoying this.  Birdie doesn’t need that sort of encouragement.

(Claire has not forgotten, one of those cold nights when they’d all lived in that house together, when the heat got shut off because someone forgot to pay their share of the heating bill and they couldn’t quite cover it as quickly as they wanted, when Claire had huddled up with Birdie and Andie so they could all keep warm, and Birdie gently and insistently scratched along her scalp until she’d let out an unwitting moan of contentment.  Andi had finally fallen asleep by then – she’d pulled an all-nighter trying to get something set up the night before – and Birdie had never said anything, had only kept scratching her scalp as Claire curled closer to her.  Claire has not forgotten, but she hopes, inwardly, that Birdie has.)

Then Birdie pulls her hair up, twists it, begins to pin it up with pins that she must be pulling from between her lips – Claire is trying not to think about that, but it’s impossible not to think about it – and then, perhaps in less than five minutes, even, leans forward and presses a soft kiss just at the base of Claire’s neck.

Claire shivers.

“Done,” Birdie whispers, breath hot against Claire’s bare neck, and she covers Claire’s eyes with both of her hands.

Claire startles.  “I have my eyes closed, Birdie, you don’t need to—”

“It’s more fun this way!” Birdie’s grinning, she has to be grinning, Claire can see her in her head, even though she can’t see her with her eyes covered the way they are, but she hears that tone, that joy in Birdie’s voice, and there’s no way she’s not grinning.  She rests her head on Claire’s shoulder, smiles against her skin again. “Stand up, stand up!”

Fortunately for Claire, Birdie isn’t using the same tone she’d used when she told her to strip, but Claire obeys anyway, carefully standing up, keeping one hand on the arm of her chair so that she doesn’t fall.  Birdie keeps her hands over her eyes.  Claire tries not to bite her lower lip, not to hold her breath.  “Where do I…where do I go?”

“Right,” Birdie says, guiding her carefully across the room.  She keeps her hands over Claire’s eyes but wraps her arms along Claire’s shoulders, using them to direct her one way or the other. Then she stops her somewhere else within the room – Claire’s still barefoot and hasn’t gone across any threshold, so they can’t have left the room.  She knows this.  “Stay here,” Birdie directs, “and keep your eyes closed.”

“Where are you going?” Claire asks.  All at once, she feels her chest tightening.  She’s still breathing just fine, which is good, but her breaths grow a little shallower as Birdie steps away from her.

“I want to see your face!” Birdie says from farther away.  “And not in the mirror.  Your actual face!”  She knocks against something.  “Okay,” she says, finally.  “You can look.”

Claire hesitates.  After all this time, she isn’t even sure she wants to look.  Given the opportunity to do anything she wants with her, Birdie could have put her in something truly horrifying.  Not that it would matter, if Claire doesn’t go anywhere in it.  Then it really would be like Andi suggested – dress-up like a Barbie doll, but like the website when the internet was just getting widespread, when Barbie could look like anything and often ended up looking horrific because she was just a base like the old Paint program.

But Birdie made her a bra.

Deep breath.

Claire opens her eyes.

She’s felt the dress, so the shape of it doesn’t surprise her – the sharp triangular scoop across her chest, the bare arm, the other covered, the cinching about her waist – but the fabric of it does, the semi-transparent along her arm, the thin band across her waist.  Her eyes are drawn to the small golden band Birdie has clasped around her bare wrist, the dainty golden chain tight around her neck with the glistening opal, because it’s easier – so much easier – to focus on these smaller things than the whole of her in front of her.

But Claire can’t avoid the mirror image of herself forever, can’t avoid the sharp red of the dress that is found, softer, on her lips and, even softer than that, angling her cheeks, drawing attention to the sharp of their bones.  Her hair is swept up and away, thin strands in soft curls about her ears, but leaving the neck she is so ashamed of exposed in a way that brings no shame.  That red color isn’t found around her eyes, but something much softer, much more neutral, so that the bright of her blue eyes comes out in sharp contrast to everything else.  She steps forward, one hand reaching out as though to touch the image of her in the mirror, and then pauses, blushing, pressing her lips together, pulling her arm back to grab at the other, looking away.

I’m beautiful.

Claire doesn’t say it, but she feels the weight of Birdie’s eyes on her. It doesn’t matter.  She can’t stop the curve, the smile spreading across her lips, the warmth pooling in the center of her chest and spreading out to her fingertips.  “You did….” She wants to say that Birdie did good, but she stops herself, corrects herself.  “You made me beautiful.”

“Oh, no, Clairebear.”  Birdie crosses the space between them and gently takes Claire’s hands in her own. She waits for Claire to look up and meet her eyes.  “You’ve always been beautiful.  I just made it easier to see.”  She scowls.  “All that beige is not your color.  It’s ugly.”

Claire’s smile drops.  “Don’t hold back.  I can take it.”

Birdie just rolls her eyes.  “You should be wearing stuff like this. They know exactly who you are in a dress like this!”

“I can’t wear this to debates, Birdie,” Claire says, but she squeezes Birdie’s hands as she says it.  “Can I keep it?”

Birdie meets her eyes again.  “Really?” she asks, near breathless.  “You like it that much?”  When Claire nods, she grins.  “That means you’ll let me do this again?”

Claire hesitates.  It’s the trust thing again.  But Birdie…she’d done so well this time that…that Claire can’t imagine her doing any worse. “Why this dress?” she asks instead, not answering Birdie’s question.  “I thought you’d put me in something like your outfits.”

Birdie groans.  Annoyed. Frustrated.  “That’s not you, Claire.  I want to dress you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”  Claire blinks twice.  “I’d still be me—”

“No, no, no, no.”  Birdie drops Claire’s hands and moves over to the chair, drapes herself across it, legs hanging over one of the arms while her back rests against the other.  “Clothes are like…like another layer, you know? Like nails or hair.  You cut your hair to look like you, but if you cut it to look like me, you wouldn’t look like you.”

“Bird, that doesn’t make any sense.”

Birdie struggles for a second.  “It’s like how you drink white wine.  I could give you pineapple juice and you’d like it—”

“I’d hate it—”

“—but it wouldn’t be your drink.”  Birdie’s eyes shift, focusing on something, on nothing.  “You will always be at your best when you look the most like you.  I just try to help you find the you that you like most.”  She gestures to her clothes.  “This is the me I like most.  This is me. But it’s not you.  So of course I couldn’t put you in anything like this.  I had to put you in you.  Your style.  Not mine.”

Claire considers this for a moment.  “Like Michelangelo and his marble statues.  Carving out the creatures he saw inside of them, even when they were just…discarded chunks.”

Birdie scowls.  “You’re not a discarded chunk.”

That’s what you think, Claire doesn’t say.  Instead, she reaches up as though to tuck her hair back, only there’s nothing dangling there, so she just brushes her fingers along the slope of her neck instead, lets them linger then.  “You want me to feel comfortable in my own skin, and my clothes are an extension of that.”  Her head tilts to one side, elongating her neck even further.  “Right?”

“If you say so,” Birdie says.  “I just want you to look like you.  That beige is just you hiding.  The shapes aren’t bad, but you could look better.”  She gestures with one hand.  “This is so much better.”

Claire smiles, a soft thing.  “You’re right,” she says.  “It is.”

Birdie’s eyes light up.  “So we can do this again?  That’s what that means, right?  I can do this again?”

“Yes,” Claire says hesitantly, drawing the single syllable word out into two. “I want to know what the dress you made for me looks like.”

“Oh.  Babe.” Birdie stands, claps her hands together. “You’re not ready for that yet. That’s for an actual event.  You’re not there.”  She passes Claire by and pats her shoulder.  “Andi’s going to love this.”

“Andi’s going to—” Claire echoes, soft.  “Wait, Birdie, I didn’t say—”

Then she stops herself.

On second thought, why not?  Against all odds, in this, Claire wants to be seen.

As long as it’s someone she trusts.

#bandit fic #famfic fluff #glass onion #birdie jay #claire debella #andi brand #clairdie

[ssarahwrites]

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 smut #max verstappen x you #arthur leclerc smut #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc

[randomfoggytiger]

Starting a fic rec chain for my friend that wants to get into writing! What are some quintessential x-files fic that showcase the talent of our massive writing community?

O.O

A loooooooooooot, a lot, a lot.

I know it's a biiiiiiiiiiit of a cop-out, but my fic lists here have a lot of "the bests" under each list category; so, if your friend wants to see the same main idea done in different ways... there's that?

If you want, tell me something your friend is interested in, and I'll make a list packed with fics that fit the bill! :DDDD

Ummmmmmmm how about I stick to the different style and talent of various authors to "show them off" for your friend?

*pulls up sleeves to more successfully wrangle Google Docs*

@baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @o6666666, @ghostbustermelanieking, @lokisgame, @mldrgrl, @tinglingworld, @sigritandtheelves, and @kateyes224 write THE BEST short but complex fluff imaginable. The shorter the better for me, because it leaves a lot of room for me to fill-in with my imagination. (And don't forget yourself~, heheheh.)

Edit: Needed to add @settle-down-frohike and @cyb3rpeach to this list~!

@enigmaticdrblockhead rips my heart out and sews it back in with her gut-wrenching short fics on humanity's cruelties. I always cite her fic Ascension as the one that makes me cry every time.

@suitablyaggrieved does great at short fic, too. Her bent is less about fluff and more about dread and horror~.

In a similar vein is @dreamingofscully, whose works are longer but have that teeter-totter between weighted rumination and blissful happiness; and @wtfmulder, who is one of the best writers for "male voice" (making three differently brooding male character sound distinctly different from one another) and does the best Mulder crack headcanons and memes.

astronaught writes like David Duchovny for me (which is a high compliment)-- ex. "He needed to get out of L.A. He needed to stay in L.A. There was a comforting nausea to the unreality here. Funhouse, Pleasure Island, Lotus-Eater nausea. The subtle horror of a museum of plastic toys. Violently happy faces fading from a material that wasn’t meant to age. //Everything was a bit grotesque in L.A. and so was everything out of L.A. Who said that Hollywood lied?"

Jo_B writes a complicated, heartwarming Mulder who is relieved Scully's effortlessly sees his humanity and good intentions.

defnotmeyo writes both the best crack (heartwarming and fun and realistic) and angst short fic. She's gone from Tumblr; but some of her fics can still be found.

@melforbes is another fic author that made me ALMOST sob (but definitely cry) with her seaglass blue fic (Ao3)-- that and, again, Ascension as mentioned above.

Lapsed_Scholar wrote the best collection of Requiem variations (Mulder doesn't leave due to various snags in his departure, all involving Scully in some way.) But all of her work is FANTASTIC (as are these other authors, too!) I always pair up anything Lapsed wrote with --

Anything Apostrophic (i.e. @mappingthexfiles), @seek-its-opposite, @wtfmulder, @sigritandtheelves, and @onpaperfirst touches is always gold. They write IWTB/S11 so well; and as a "stop after S8 the canonical ending" fan, they make me love anything beyond it-- and those aren't not even including their other fics. I always think of Apostrophic's "miniseries" fics Agua Mala-Arcadia-Alpha... stupendous work.

Can't forget the multi-chapter, shot-in-the-veins of 90s grounded...ness that is @cecilysass, @aloysiavirgata, @amplifyme, and @slippinmickeys (though she also loves to dabble in AUs that are wildly entertaining.) You FEEL like you're in the X-Files era reading their work.

For Torture!Mulder (yep, it's a thing) there's Vickie Moseley (Gossamer, Ao3) and Donna-- I prefer Donna's work, but sometimes Vickie NAILS it.

For Gossamer/older fics I reread obsessively (and they're famfic, ngl):

Suki Tawdry's The Way Things Are (Mulder and Scully have a one-night stand aligning w/ Gillian's pregnancy. I skip Chapter 12-- personal preference-- but the BANTER and sarcasm on Scully is top-tier. And Mulder's journey as a slowly morphing family man is... chef's kiss. Not to mention Skinner, Maggie, Melissa, even a well-intentioned but annoying Bill, etc.) and LuvTheBeez's Snow (S5? Mulder and Scully are married and expecting a giant baby... and become hostages in a stick up. The in-control thought processes, banter, and intelligent planning on both their parts while keeping it completely lighthearted is also the best) AND Jamie Greco's Breathing (on the way to Scully's Lamaze class, dialogue only, AMAZING characterization of Mulder and Scully. All of Jamie Greco's other fics do the same-- Scarlet has Mulder high on a hallucinogen and seeing Scully as an angel.)

I'm plowing through RocketMan's works on Gossamer-- WOW are some amazing. Chef's kiss. Not finished yet (taking my time-- just reached second page), but I'll probably make a separate author shoutout when I'm done~.

I haven't even BEGUN to touch the fill-in or fix-it fics that span the series (or at least one season of it) that are incredibly impressive-- like @darwin-xf, @scenes-in-between, and touchstonea's Odyssean epics-- but I've got to cut this list short because... honestly, my list would be endless; and I have not even BEGUN to list them all. If I haven't listed anyone, it's not for lack of trying or because of any attempt at snubbing. I, a mere mortal, can only do so much. XDDD

Thank you for the ask~! Again, if your friend likes a specific category, let me know and I'll drum up a fic list! :DDDDD

#medicaldoctordana #txf #fic #rec #asks #xf fanfic #xf fic #x-files #xfiles #the x files

[v3nusxsky]

Hello hello hello >:] so this my be irrelevant to anything , I just want to say thank you to you and your works . I know you don't know me but I graduated highschool today it's my biggest accomplishment yet and you helped me a lot to get through here. It's been really hard recently but i made it through thanks to the comfort your works gave me . Your Larisa Weems famfics are sood oh my good TvT I love the fluff ones and maybe the smut ones too XD. Again thank you so much and i value your works a lot :D

Sorry if this is weird by the way I'm a bit nervous TvT Is this cringe? Oh my god

-Ares (not the God of war)

Oh my goshhhh! Congratulations lovely! I’m so proud of you for graduating!!!!

Thank you sm for reading and supporting my work here and I’m so glad it could comfort you! It’s one of the main reasons I started to write fics was for comfort. No shame in liking the smutty fics that coke from my day dreams😳

It’s definitely not cringe or weird this actually just made my day

Also side note: I love Greek gods so I love the name my favourite is probably Athena🥰

#ares #ares anon #anon answered

[baronessblixen]

I'm curious: what type of fluff do you like to reread? Famfic? Pretend relationships? Carnival/fair fic? Dates/balls? (Personally, I am a glutton for famfic... fam fic? however it's spelled.)

Oh what a great question! I think I love them all too much 😂 for a while it was definitely family fic (fam fic? Famfic? I also don't know 😆), now it's hurt/comfort and fake relationship or marriage for convenience is always good too. But I really love it all. Sometimes I just want to read about people being happy, you know?

#lovely asks #so happy we have do much fic #and people are still writing! #i love fluff cause i love seeing things work out for a change

[jademakean]

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭

JJ Maybank x Reader

 THE SOUND OF CREAKING wood beneath you was all that was heard in the confined space, aside from the soft music playing in the background. You carried an assigned crate outside the shop you were currently working at. As you stepped down a level you managed to lose your footing, wobbling to the side in the process and hitting your hip on the lumber stand. Once you balanced the items in your arms, you soon realized that the fabric of your dress got caught between the chipped wood.

     Before you could rip your clothing apart and make a complete embarrassment out of yourself, a hand quickly took the box from your arms, allowing you to properly pull the material away from the splintered table.

You turned around to face the generous man, only to find a recognizable face.

"Hey, AJ! How are you doing."

     The blonde boy furrowed his eyebrows at your words. You took notice of the pink taint sprinkled over his cheeks as his friend attempted to hide his laugh. "What's wrong?"

He readjusted his stance awkwardly "My name's JJ, not AJ."

Your eyes widened, repeatedly apologizing for the error.

He suddenly felt bad for the unintentional rudeness laced in his tone. After all, he was the one shaking in his boots every time he got the chance to talk to you. “Its alright, common mistake.”

    While JJ was visibly struggling to continue his conversation with you, John B couldn't help but be amused watching his, usually, cocky friend being torn down by a simple slip of miscommunication. Nevertheless, he decided to do the unexpected and actually help JJ out.

“You work here? Wow, our friend's father runs the restaurant right across the street. You should come by and try it out.” The suggestion slipped out of his mouth so smoothly that it was almost impossible not to take it into consideration.

“Oh 'The Wreck'? Yeah sure. I'll see if I can find some time after work.”

JJ was surprised by your willingness, mostly because he's always viewed you as a divine God of some sort. You somehow manage to be friends with everyone you meet due to your charisma, including kooks. Always optimistic and caring even towards those who don't necessarily deserve it which can be concerning.

He'd never think that you'd actually go out of your way to chill with them, especially since you're always hanging with various crowds every day. It was a constant switch up between groups of friends, even if those groups genuinely wanted you to be part of their gang.

“Great. Well, I wish I would help you out here but I gotta go talk to Kiara. See ya!” John B announced already leaving the two sixteen-year-olds alone. JJ instantly became panicked, attempting to subtly motion him to stay.

“It’s no problem. See ya later John B!”

    The fact that you remembered the brunette’s name didn't really boost up JJ’s confidence either. He turned to you, noticing that you proceeded to stock up the stand with fresh fruit, resuming your job. JJ silently began helping you out, placing the items on the categorized boxes.

“So, uh- you do this every day?”

Though it was a terrible attempt to start a conversation, you smiled, nodding at his words “Pretty much. I've been saving up some money so I could buy this gorgeous cotton white dress I've had my eye on for a while.”

Usually, JJ would’ve ignored these kinds of unnecessary details when having a conversation with a person, but when it came to you, it seemed that every possible detail mattered.

“Hm, how long have you been working? I mean, I've seen you around here and everything but I'm not so sure.” His hand twitched as it brushed against yours momentarily.  “Just a couple of months, I love it though. When I open up at dawn, everything is just so quiet and the air is fresh from the morning-”

You quickly stop mid-sentence, realizing you were rambling once again. It was a common thing for you to do, chattering aimlessly oblivious to the person’s confusion towards your little bursts of passion.

Though you learned quickly that ‘over-sharing’ wasn't something very well-liked by the public. Did you care? No.

Nevertheless, you found yourself bothered by the thought of annoying JJ. Little did you know, he found your passionate view of the passing days adorable, and maybe even hopeful towards his own future.

    It was no revelation that JJ didn't claim his worth. Often exposing himself to useless fights, shit-talking, confrontations with officers, just overall reckless behaviour that could eventually damage his life. He wasn't completely at fault. When the people around you continuously drill the quote ‘You’ll become just like your father.’ into your head, you eventually begin to believe their words.

    “-Anyway, I just have to finish up inside until my coworker replaces me. I'll see you later, JJ!”

    The boy couldn't help but feel pleased with the fact that you memorized his name. “Yeah, see ya.” He mumbled with a small smile, his gaze strained solely on you entering the small store.

JJ found himself deep in thought, setting a new goal for his summer:

-Make you an official member of the gang.

    “WHO KNEW LIL OL’ JJ could be so pussy whipped.”

     “I think that he’s just trying to smash. The idiot always wants what he can't have, ya know?”

     Kiara quickly perked up from behind the bar due to the sentence that came out of John B’s mouth. She strolled over to the round table her two friends settled at, ready to initiate the primary lecture of the day. “First of all, the words you guys use to portray women honestly disgusts me. There are better ways to get your point across. Imagine other men using that vocabulary when talking about me or your mom.”

The boys visibly cringed at Kiara’s words, voicing out their disgust for her example. She ignored them, swiftly sitting beside Pope. “Secondly, who’s pussy y'all talking about?” She questioned, basically ignoring the valid statement she just made.

    John B laughed quietly before answering “Y/N. She's this girl working at the fruit market across from here. JJ had a couple of conversations with her and now he won't shut up about her. You should've seen what happened earlier, JJ went to talk to her and she literally messed up his name by a letter. God his face was priceless- hey- you alright?”

    Kiarra’s face paled at the mention of your name. “God, can't she stay away from our group at least?”

     The two boys shared a quizzical glance before Pope burst from his spot “You got beef with Y/N too?! Damn Kiara, we can't avoid the whole Island!”

    The brunette rolled her eyes dismissing his accusation. “Not exactly. I mean we were friends temporarily back I hung out with Sarah, and just when I thought we were about to cross the ‘Bestfriend’ finish line, she began hanging out with other people.” Kiara’s expression quickly contorted into a saddening one. “It’s not like I should be mad. Y/N explained to me why she did what she did, and it's not like I own her or anything.” Kie paused, sighing. “I mean, she was a really caring friend- I just miss her.”

    “Well, now you don't need to miss her anymore! She's coming over.” John B clearly didn't know how to read the room.

     Before Kiara had any time to react, a very bubbly JJ walks through the door wearing a beaming smile on his lips.

“Hey, guys!” He took a seat before stealing Pope’s fries, not aware of the obvious stare of the group of people in front of him. “So JJ, how did it go?” John B broke the silence with a small grin. “With Y/n? God, she was so sweet. I was a bit awkward but I found out some stuff about her, that counts for something. Imma try n’ get her to hang with us.” “You mean, like, today?” Kie asked, a crease appearing on her forehead.

“Yeah- but also every day.”

JJ’s words caused an uncomfortable tension to radiate throughout the room, which he clearly didn't seem to notice as he happily munched on Pope’s- his own food.

“You mean, let her in our gang?” Kiarra asked grimly

JJ finally met the girl’s voice due to its uninviting tone. “I mean, if y’all ain't comfortable with that then it's alright-” the relief that washed over Kiara was temporary “-I can just hang with her when I'm not with you guys.”

“You’re always hanging out with us though..” Pope chuckled nervously, knowing damn well where this was going. “I’ll make take some time out of fishing for her.”

“Dude, what happened to ‘having that best summer of our lives’?” Kie snapped, not pleased with his sudden interest in you. “Wow, Kie, chill. Just because we aren't together 24/7 doesn't mean we can't have the best summer of our lives.”

“Dude, I'm glad that you're finally considering having a girlfriend you actually like, but- You only had two hella short conversations with her and you're already assuming that she’ll want to hang with you every day; not only that but you're ruining our prime plans for the summer.” John B admitted, feeling slightly guilty dumping a bucked of cold reality on him.

“It’s fishing.”

“And what’s next? Boat riding? Surfing? Having keggers?-”

JJ cut off Kiara’s rambles with a simple point “Then just allow her in our gang, there's no reason not to. She's nice, has good style, is well-liked so we can easily get out of trouble and she's pretty fun from what I've heard. Plus we can get fruit from her whenever we want.”

    JJ’s last comment earned an eye-roll from the Kie, meanwhile, a couple of laughs were heard from John and Pope who didn't seem to view this topic as an important one. “You let Sarah in before and you really fuckin hated her guts man, so why do you have such an issue with Y/n?”

    Just as Pope was about to respond Kie cut him off “I don't have an issue with her- I just don't want us to keep adding people to our circle, I like having a small group of friends that I've known for years.” The lies slipped past her lips easily not wanting to make a big deal concerning relationships once again. It's not like her having issues with Sarah stopped them before, so it wouldn't now. “But if you like Y/n that much I can let it pass.”

Kie decided against making a side comment about how he didn't even know her and stuck to return the big smile on JJ’s face.

    “I heard my name.” JJ perked up from his seat recognizing your voice, eyes widening and his mouth full of ketchup-covered fries.

“Sup Y/n. You’re early.” John B smiles innocently, smacking JJ’s back causing him to choke on his food.

“Woah there, you okay buddy?” You ask slightly concerned. It's only once his coughing died down and he confirmed that he's okay that you took notice of Kie at the table. “Hey guys, hey Kie! How's everything?”

“Everything’s good. We were planning on going for a swim, wanna join?” Kiara internally scolded herself for caving into your sweet voice. How could you act so unbothered and relaxed? “Yeah, sure! If you guys want a change of scenery we could crash at my friend’s place, he’s on a vacation to the Bahamas with his parents and they have a giant pool, so there won't be any sand in unwanted places.” You joked lightly earning a couple of laughs.

    “Wait you're actually friends with kooks? Damn you must be living the life, man.” John B praised not really caring for the Kooks vs Pogues war going on since he was now dating Sarah.

“Fuck, I wanna go to the Bahamas.” Pope sighed jokingly on what he's missing out.

“We can go to the Bahamas.”

The room instantly burst into howls of laughter. You looked around confused waiting for them to settle down, which they did once they realized how serious you were. “There is no way in hell we’ll be able to pay up for that. That’d be over ten thousand dollars for all of us- and don't get me started on the house renting cost.” Pope stated. “Who said we’d pay? That same friend already asked me to go with him but since I haven't gotten my break from work yet we decided that I'd need him there eventually.”

    Kiara gaped at your calm state as though you didn't just invite them to heaven out of nowhere after not talking to her for a year. This is how you are though, full of surprises just going with the flow and that made her begin to feel aggravated. “Making friends in high places, aren't we? Don't you think it's rude to make a ‘friend’ pay for expensive tickets for a bunch of people he doesn't know.”

You decided to ignore the harshness of her tone with a smile that irritated Kiara furthermore. “Trust me, he couldn't care less. His parents are close to being billionaires so a couple of thousand dollars won't even phase one percent of their bank account.”

    Kiara was about to comment on her statement but was quickly interrupted by John B "I mean a free vacation is a free vacation I'm not turning this down."

    "Yo sign me the fuck up!" JJ yelled followed by Pope "Wait are we actually going to the Bahamas?"

"It’s in three days. Y'all can come if you want all you gotta do is pack your bags, not even, we can just buy stuff there, Francisco, my friend, loves to shop so it's nothing to worry about. Meanwhile, let's go chill at the pool, it's super hot today."

You began making your way out of the restaurant. Everyone looked at each other for a couple of seconds before stumbling out of their seats and following you. Kiara was a different story though, she only left once she realized that they weren't actually coming back.

    “WAIT SO PEOPLE USED to believe that the blood of a freshly executed person was a health tonic?” You asked Pope as you handed him a beer “Yeah and they would pay executioners to drink it. It's pretty weird but hey, people used to think that flies were like- incredibly deadly so I'm not very surprised.”

     “Yo Pope maybe don't tire out the person who's giving us a free vacation.” JJ suggested raising his sunglasses as he laid in his donut-shaped floaty, beer in hand.

    You turned towards Pope taking note of his sudden introverted body language “Hey, I actually think you're a pretty interesting guy. You're going places, man.” He mirrored your sweet smile as you ruffled his hair.

    You gazed up towards the sky for a couple of seconds before getting up from the edge of the pool "Hey guys, I'm gonna get ya'll some stronger sunscreen, the sun is blazing today."

A chorus of thank you’s were sent your way as your wet feet paddled along the floorboard

     The mansion was much cooler compared to the outside temperature, you chose to ignore the expensive objects knowing you'd begin craving a privilege you couldn't have. Once you fetched your needed item out of your bag you stood up from your crouched position only to knock into someone.

    “Sarah? What's up?” The beautiful girl smiled at you showing John B's texts prepared in hand, knowing there was a high chance he didn't inform you that he invited his girlfriend. “Oh- of course. Come'on in" you dragged out happily.

    Remembering about the raging sun you quickly stopped her before she stepped out of the large glass door to meet the others “Yo wait a sec- let me blend some sunscreen on your back, I know you get burned easily."

    The Cameron girl had always felt comforted by your caring nature and by the fact that you didn't try to be super close with her, just enough to have some carefree fun from time to time and check up on each other. She was able to rant to you about anything knowing that once you are told a secret you keep it confidential, not finding any sort of satisfaction from betraying people who trust you.

     “All I'm saying is that I don't feel comfortable around her.”

     Just as Sarah was about to thank you she stopped once she heard Kiara’s loud whispering from outside.

“Come on Kiara. I thought you said you were fine with this.”

“But I'm not, okay JJ! She's different okay, I don't hate her but I can't be around her either!” Her words silenced everyone in an instant. It was obvious to know who she was talking about. Sarah eyed you carefully, not sure of what your reaction might be. You silently closed the cap of the bottle and walked outside with a slight bounce to your step “Sup bitches, y'all fried shrimp yet or what?” you exclaimed tossing the cream over to JJ.

     Everyone snapped out of their gloomy moods and laughed, JJ immediately coating his redden skin with the substance. “You might be just a little too late.” He hissed.

    Sarah pulled you closer by your elbow and asked in a hushed tone “Are you alright. I know things with Kie are pretty intense ever since you stopped talking.”

      You furrowed your eyebrows as though confused “Everything is fine. We didn't stop talking we just stopped hanging out so much. We talked things through but it's understandable if she gets a bit defensive. Let's just enjoy summer aight?” You asked encouragingly raising your beer, she raised hers after letting out a sigh “Let's just enjoy the summer.”

     After a long sip and lying down for a few quiet seconds you raised a sudden question.

    “You wanna go to the Bahamas?”

#jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank famfic #jj fanfic #jj maybank x reader #obx fanfic #obx #aesthetic #jj maybank fluff

[novellaquill]

John Wick with a Magic S/O Part (1/?)

Just imagine having powers in the John Wick verse and hang with me for a minute

I’d imagine having a sort of low key life

if you are insanely power you wouldn’t really act on it

Magic only enhances what’s already there, so if you really wanted to keep your magic life from your personal life you could

I’d imagine you conducting your home life like Cassie Nightgale (The Good Witch) or Matilda

You help out those in need in a more subtle way and use magic for more minor inconveniences if you truly didn’t want to get up

No occult shop or palm readings or something like that

it’s too on the nose and too easy for someone with magic to target you

I could see a Bell Book & Candle in your life or maybe a librarian or a teacher, a needed and humble job

Hell you could be an entrepreneur, work in a mechanic shop, a connivence store

John wouldn’t care where you worked as long you enjoy it as it’s not too flashy or draw unnecessary attention to him

If your job was flashy he’d ask your relationship to be private he’s a loner

John has a lot of drama in his life and he doesn’t need more

If you have drama I’d think you’d be able to handle it without alerting your mortal neighbors

Your relationship and how you use your powers would depend on how you meet John

Before the events of the first John Wick:

You’re a well respected and needed friend to John and to his wife

You were moving into the neighborhood and happened to catch Helen’s eye so of course she dragged John over and boom acquaintances

He wouldn’t mind you as a friend but is definitely cautious

What normal person knows who’s walking into a room without moving or breaking concentrations from your current task?

It even happens with strangers you’ve never met

John a closed off person, the only one we made him open up and understands him is Helen

So imagine how offput he would be of you knew how everyone including how he is feeling

For a while he might think you’re a assassin or mercenary and keep his guard up around you

I mean you could be who knows

After awhile he gets used to it like everyone else

He brushes off as part of your charm but you both know it’s something more

Your relationship with John is purely platonic

He has Helen and you’re not looking to break up anyone’s relationship

If you do have crush on him impossible not to it doesn’t show and he wouldn’t notice if it did

Helen’s the only girl in the world to him, he could never cheat on not even in his mind

As we begin to reach the beginning of the first movie you’re relationship would grow when Helen gets sick, still platonic but you’re closer than ever

Wether you have a shop or not you’re know for your natural remedies and amazing advice

John would appreciate you helping anyway you can and for not discouraging Helen from getting medical attention

Most of your stuff is to make her time left as stress free and painless as possible

And that’s all John can ask for at this point

Part of making Helen’s life stress free would consist of making sure John is okay after she’s gone

Which would break you because she’s a dear friend and you don’t want her to die and you know her death would break John

It was your idea to get John a puppy, you knew Daisy would help him heal

It’s times like this when you wish that magic was just like the movies and take away all the bad things in the world

But it can’t

so you’re there for them, every step of the way

When Helen dies you say your goodbyes and wait for him to come of out her room

You bring her groceries and help clean up

You make sure he’s taking care of himself

You use your magic to help out and make sure nothing extra shitty happens

His wife died give him a break world

He’s not snappy and he doesn’t cry because you’re not babying him and he has no more tears to shed

He is getting increasingly more suspicious of you but is unaware it’s magic

This is where feelings are starting to surface but no one acts on it

It might just be because you’re both hurting and her death is too fresh it would be a betrayal

After the funeral and he receives Daisy he slowly gets better

He knows you had something to do with his new pet and he’s not complaining

You still help out whenever you can and he asks for you stay a little longer each time

Nothing happens but even with Daisy it’s hard to be alone

Soon you realize he’s there for you too in his own way

The relationship is still platonic but something is there

Just underneath the surface of two grieving friends something more is growing in the midst of tragedy

To sum it up your relationship with John before the movie is a slow burn

I couldn’t resist adding magic in the John Wick verse but it’s really low key and peaceful. If you guys like it I’ll make a part 2. After all this the beginning and there’s 3 movies. If there’s a part 2 it will be a lot more interesting I promise. Let know what you guys think in the comments and give me ideas please I’m suffering from writers block!!

~Novella Quill

#keanu reeves #keanu #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #jonh wick x witch reader #john wick x witch!reader #x witch reader #john wick headcanon #headconon #novella quill #john wick au #angst #fluff #slow burn #fanfiction #famfic

[dioroutfit]

la lune et les étoiles ☽

vlogger!taehyung x barista!reader

masterlist in bio

playlist

part 4 - platonic cupid

taglist [send in an ask to be tagged]: @pocketfullofsuga @ineveryflavor @dreamcatcherjiah @salty-for-suga @lilacparkjiminsmain @taekookcaneatme @incredibleella @hellboundblogger @seokssocks @krystalizando

#bts social media au #bts smau #bts au #bts fake texts #bts fake chat #bts famfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts group chat #taehyung fluff #taehyung social media au #taehyung smau #taehyung au #taehyung fanfic #kpop social media au #kpop smau #kpop au #kpop fake texts #kpop fanfic #bts texts

[linyi-is-dreaming]

The decay of the blossom - 13  🥀

Story: BTS x Reader x GOT7

Category: Drama, Friendship, Love

Summary:  Y/N’s life starts to change as her mother gets herself a new man after her father’s passing. A new school, a new life. Everything sounds too good to be true. Apparently, destiny has its own rules and that is something she will learn when destiny gives her some signs along her way.

CHAPTER 13

It has been at least ten minutes that Jaebum could not stop to cry. Ten minutes of Y/N trying her best to find the right words. She does not know if she should keep hugging him or if she should get up and get him something else instead. It makes her feel helpless and worried at the same time. The past ten minutes have been absolute silent. No matter what crosses her mind, it still does not seem good enough to cheer him up. When he starts to move away from her, she removes her arms from him. Y/N wanted to be sure that he is doing better after letting it all out but Jaebum avoids the eye contact which makes it harder for her to figure out what is truly going on inside. It only felt like a minute until he finally looks into her eyes. Surprised by her reddened eyes, he wonders why she feels this way even though she was just a customer who helped out once to his aunt. She tries her best to fake a smile which does not work out that well as it looks different in comparison to her real smile.  Jaebum could not even look at her fake smile for a second before he looks away.

“Feels better to let it out, huh?”, she says to lift up the mood a little. “How are you feeling?” Jaebum's eyes look red and lightly swollen. At first, he did not recognize that she was watching him as he wipes his tears from his face. When he looks at her again, he sees the dried tears on her face. A little fresh tear is still in the corner of her left eye which she seems not to mind.

“Honestly, I do not know how I feel nor how I should feel...” His voice sounds as he really means what he had just said. This slow talking and the breaking between the words make it clear, he tries to hide his feelings again. “You cried too?”, Jaebum questions as she wipes the tears off her face.

“Yeah. It’s just… Whenever I see someone cry, I start to cry automatically.”, she answers as she uses her finger to remove any sign of the tears that she feels on her face.

“I did not mean to make you cry. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, do not worry about it. Friends help each other through hard times, I am here for you. You would be there for me too so…” Jaebum nods as he gets up to get the tissue box which lies next to his bed. He takes a tissue out of the box and holds the box towards her. “She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”, Y/N questions as she takes a tissue. Jaebum nods as he sits down on the edge of his bed.

“Yes.” Jaebum sobs before he looks at her again. “I asked you once if your father is abusive to you. Do you remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Y/N does not spend a thought about what he had asked, she simply answered with whatever came to her mind first. She starts to realize what he said and what she had just answered and this makes her wonder why he said what he said.

“There is a reason why I did not wait and asked you directly if your father does what I accused him of. I had to ask you that question because the way your father reacted, reminded me on my aunt’s former husband.” Jaebum takes a moment to breath before he continues. “He was so abusive and… My aunt used to cover up her bloody lip with red lipstick just like your mother did. The way he touched your arm and the sadness in your eyes looked similar to what I saw in my aunt’s eyes before.”

“Oh.”, she says as she looks to the ground. “I guess, I understand why you asked me those questions... I am sorry she had to go through that. Nobody should go through that.”, Y/N says as she looks at her hands. Jaebum takes out his phone to write a text message. The message is directed at their group chat. This is also the reason why Y/N’s phone vibrates. In curiosity, she opens the message immediately. Y/N reads the message a second time before she starts to wonder why he wrote this message. “Are you sure that we should get ourselves whatever we want from her shop? You know we could help out this week.”

“Most of her recipes are a secret. She never wrote them down and they are the reason why the shop has been successful. Without those… Forget it.”, Jaebum mumbles as he touches the back of his neck.

“I am a good baker, maybe I-” His eyes suddenly look angry and he looks upset when he interrupts her.

“I said no!”, Jaebum screams. Y/N looks depressed as he declines her offer even though she understands his emotional outburst. It would be a lie if she would say that his reaction did not hurt her. Y/N might not say something back at him but her face shows that he stepped over the line. His tongue moves quickly over his lips as he feels them dry up. “I did not mean to scream at you, I am sorry.”, Jaebum apologizes as he looks to the ground in shame about his outburst.

“It’s fine.”, she assures him whilst he is getting mad at himself for screaming at her even more. Two knocks become hearable from the door frame of Jaebum's bedroom. It is his mother, leaning against his bedroom door with a purse in one hand and shoes in the other. His mother looks just as sad as Jaebum  does but she seems to hide it a little better than Jaebum could.

“I see that you are in good hands.”, his mother states as she looks at them. Y/N starts to believe that she might have not heard his screaming. Otherwise she would have said something, Y/N thinks. Another thing that she notices is that his mother does not look as she would have been crying as hard as Jaebum did, but Y/N is sure that she must be wearing makeup to cover it up. Y/N puts a small smile on her face to reassure his mother that everything is alright. His mother returns a smile and nods. “I have to go, there are some paper stuff to do because of her death and….” The smile of his mother slowly disappears as she feels her emotions come up. She looks up for a moment as she would try to suck the tears back in before she puts a neutral look on her face. “Jae, my boss did not give me a vacation day for tonight's shift. Do you want me to cook something or do you want me to get you something for breakfast?”

“Got it.”, Jaebum answers as he looks depressed to the ground. “I will stay at home.”, he declares as he looks up at her again. “I will find something in the freezer for sure.”  Jaebum tries the hardest to assure his mother that he will be alright but his mother waits for a few seconds if he would change his mind.

“Alright. I see you guys later if I make it home before my shift but I see you the latest tomorrow. Do not forget to lock the door before you go to bed.” His mother waves her goodbye before she walks away from his bedroom. Jaebum puts the tissue box on the ground which brings her attention back to him. Y/N tries her best to read his face but he seems to fake his emotion once again.  

“I just want to take a nap. If you do not mind.”, he tells her quietly.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Y/N gets up and is just about to leave the room as she discovers a sleeping bag in the corner of his room. Jaebum turns his body towards the wall as Y/N leaves his room. Almost out of the door, she turns around. “Tell me if you need something.” He does not answer her which is making her sigh as she leaves his room. She walks towards the kitchen to drink some water as she feels her throat starting to hurt because of the dryness. As Y/N takes the glass of water, she starts to think about his mother. How many jobs does she have just to make enough for their living, Y/N wonders. For whatever reason she turns to the fridge and looks through it whilst her thoughts stay by his mother. There is not much in the fridge that she could cook with. It almost reminds her on the empty fridge she was so used to after her father had passed away. If his mother barely makes any money even though she seems to have more than one job, do they even eat enough, she wonders. Jaebum always eats the food from the cafeteria but what does he eat at home if there is barely anything there, she asks herself. Y/N takes one look along the hallway towards his bedroom as she feels torn of respecting his wish of being alone or being with him as a friend even though he does not want her to do so. Just to be sure she walks back to his bedroom to see if he fell asleep already. When she sees that he is truly taking a nap, she walks back to the fridge and takes some ingredients for cooking out of the fridge. Thankfully, she finds everything that she would need.

🍃🍃🍃

Once he fell asleep, Jaebum did not want to wake up from it. In his dream, he sees his aunt as she was taking care of Jaebum when he was a younger. Just a few years ago, but it still feels like yesterday when he had to wait outside of a courtroom with his aunt. He remembers his mother telling him that she will make sure that his father will not hurt him ever again. He also remembers the way she hugged his aunt and the way she had petted his head before she had to walk inside the court room. Multiple times, he heard his aunt say, that Jaebum’s mother will be out in a minute. What he did not expect is his father being taken away by handcuffs just a few minutes before his mother came back outside. His aunt did ignore his questions and said repeatedly that his mother will answer his questions. Jaebum accepted to wait for his mother to answer his questions later on that day. The smile on Jaebum’s mother’s face was huge when she walked towards them and the many times his aunt congratulated her for a win seems to be on replay in his dream. Almost as it would be in slow motion.  

A smell in the air gets Jaebum’s attention as he starts to wake up. It smells delicious almost as he would dive right into another dream but this is just not another dream. Still sleepy, he gets up to follow the smell. He becomes more curious each second whilst he follows the smell towards the kitchen. When he passes the guest room, he sees no sign of Y/N. As he continues to walk towards the kitchen, he starts to wonder if Y/N had ordered in. Jaebum stops to walk for a second to watch her cook but the curiosity makes him walk closer to her. “Are you cooking? I smelled something that lead me this way.”, he explains as he leans over to pan to take a closer look. “Looks good.”

“I hope it is okay. I did not know if I was allowed to-”

“It is okay. You should not be starving as our guest.” Jaebum lifts a corner of his lips to show her it is perfectly fine if she wants to do so.

“I only cooked something I came up with in my mind. I made some vegetables with coconut-curry sauce and I made some spring rolls from your freezer. I hope you like it.” Jaebum nods and takes two plates to place them on the dinner table. “Do you want to eat now?”, she asks as she keeps on focusing on the food.

“That is why I am preparing the table. Do you need a hand?”

“Nope. Just bring the plates, I will put everything on the plates in the kitchen.” Jaebum does not discuss as he brings her the plates even though the plates where on the dinner table for less than a half minute.

“I did not know that you can cook.”

“Well, surprise.”, she jokes as she puts the food on the first plate. “Let's see if you like it afterwards too.” When she prepared the second plate, he brings the plates back to the dinner table. Y/N hurries around the kitchen counter to sit down on the empty chair on the opposite side of where he is sitting at. Jaebum takes a bite quickly. The fast chewing turns into slow ones until he does not chew anymore even though the food is still in his mouth. He raises an eyebrow and looks at her. “This bad?”, she questions as it looks like he seems not to like it. Jaebum swallows his food and licks his lip twice. She looks at her plate disappointed as she takes a bite herself to see if it tastes bad.

“No, it is damn good!”

“It does not look like you would truly like it.”, she answers whilst she tries to cool her mouth. Apparently, she did not wait long enough for the food to cool down a bit before she had put it in her mouth. “Argh!”

“Are you okay?”, Jaebum asks as he tries to hide a laugh.

“Just too hot.” Jaebum starts to laugh. He tried hard to hold back his laugh but he could not do it any longer especially when she starts to move like a fish who’s a dragon at the same time. His imaginary adds the smoke which comes from her mouth which makes him laugh even harder. “I will let you laugh about me being stupid.”, she says with a smile. When he makes the same face again after taking another bite, she narrows her eyebrows. “Why does it look like you do not like it even if you say you do?”, she asks as she finally swallowed her food.

“I am just surprised that it tastes that well. Did you order in?” Y/N starts to laugh at his question.

“Are you saying this because your face failed to hide the truth twice?”

“No, not at all.” Jaebum looks around if he might could find any packaging which would show that she had ordered in but there is no sign of any packaging. Whilst shaking his head, he continues to eat.

“Do you find any packaging around here? The ingredients are from your fridge by the way.”

“Uh...” His fork moves quickly to give him another taste of the food in front of him. “Make sure to leave the recipe here. I got to try it myself.”, he requests with his mouth full.

“You cook too? I did not know that you do too.”

“Well, I guess we both learnt something about the other one.” Y/N nods as she continues to eat. “Is something left for another portion?”

“Only a small amount. I did not make that much.”, she answers as her phone vibrates. She takes the phone out of her pocket and looks at the screen. “Uh.”

“Uh? Must be your parents from the sound of it.”

“No. It is Jungkook.”, she answers as she reads the message. “He asks me if he should come over with a few video games to distract you with. Do you want him to come over?” Jaebum starts to play with his fork within his food. It looks almost like a child who does not want to finish its meal.

“Is it bad that I do not want to see them right now?”, Jaebum asks as he battles with himself. It feels wrong to decline a friend who wants to be there for him but at the same time it would make it worse once he would be by himself afterwards again, Jaebum thinks. “I rather be on my own.”, he lies.

“No, it is not bad at all. I will just write him that you want to take a nap.” She starts to type that he does not know what he wants to do but that he asked her to decline Jungkook’s offer. Jungkook knew that Jaebum would have denied his phone call but that he would say no through Y/N surprised him. After finishing his meal, Jaebum keeps sitting at the table as he would want to say something.

“Okay.”, Jaebum pronounces whilst he gets up. The okay sounded more like someone who made his mind up and confident rather than sad. She texts Jungkook if they want to come, they should come anyway. Her fingers are typing very quick whilst she hopes that Jaebum does not notice that she is writing a long message. When she puts a full fork is in her mouth, she sees that Jaebum is walking towards the wash basin. Maybe she should have not ignored his no and just tell Jungkook to not come over nor to send the others to Jaebum’s place instead, she thinks.

“Not hungry anymore? A little should be left.”

“No. You can have it if you like.”, Jaebum answers as he places the dirty dish in the wash basin.

“Leave them there. I will clean up once I am done here.”

“You are our guest this week. I will do it.” He takes the cleaning materials and starts to clean up. “That can distract me a little at least.” Y/N finishes her meal just as Jaebum finished the other dirty dishes. “Do you want to go out with the others?” Her eyes look surprised at him as she watches him cleaning up. Jaebum might not be looking at her but he sees her in the corner of his eyes. “I mean, do you not want to take the chance to hang out with Jinyoung or the others? Just to watch a movie or something.” If she would be honest, it would hurt him that is for sure. Since she knew that she will stay at his place, she thought about going on dates with Jinyoung but now, everything looks different. Jaebum looks as he is in so much pain that it would not feel right to leave him alone by himself.  

“No. Besides, what if a neighbor of mine would see me and ask my mother about it…”, she lies as she hands him her plate.

“You are a horrible liar.” Jaebum cleans her plate quickly and turns off the water. He takes the kitchen towel to dry his hand when he leans against the kitchen counter. “It is fine. If you want to, just do it. Do not hold yourself back because you feel sorry for me. I am alright.”

“Thanks. But I will stay in.” Just in that moment the doorbell rings. “Do you expect someone? Do you want me to check?”

“Are you joking?”, he asks when he throws the kitchen towel on the kitchen counter. “I will go.” Jaebum pronounces as he walks towards the door. He opens the door quickly but now he wishes that he did not open the door at all.

“We thought you might want a few of us here...”, Yoongi says. “Can we come in?” Jaebum nods with his head down as he lets them in. “Jungkook said you want to take a nap which is the reason why some said they would rather let you sleep.”

“So, you want me to stay awake?”, Jaebum adds sarcastically. “Very kind.”

“We got some snacks, games... Whatever you need for a distraction.” Mark shows him the bag with all the stuff in it. No word is leaving Jaebum’s lips as he opens the door more. “Maybe Jinyoung was right.”, Marks whispers quietly to Jin.

“No. He just acts cold again, you know him.” Jin puts his shoes off and walks towards the kitchen. “Damn! I missed your cooking again?”, he questions as he sees Y/N packing the small amount of food which is left into a Tupperware that she had found.

“Well, you are always a moment too late.”

“Can you ever save some for me?”

“Uhm, no. I do not think so but maybe one day.”

“You have some leftovers in front of you.”

“So?”

“So? Do you not want to offer it to me?”

“I did not cook it for you, I cooked for Jaebum. Maybe another day.”

“At least one day...”, Jin jokes as he sees her smile. His laugh stops when he turns back to Jaebum. “Jaebum, do you want to play a video game or a card game?”

“What are you asking him for? A video game of course.”, Mark says as he takes the bag from Jin’s hand. “Let’s see who is the best in the new game that Yugyeom got from his parents. Jungkook meant it is one of the best games Yugyeom owns.”

🍃🍃🍃

“At least we finally found something that you are bad in!”, Mark comments happily as he beats Y/N in the same game again. “Do not be mad! This game is so much fun.”

“Enjoy your win.”, Y/N says angrily. “I will beat you sooner or later. That counts for everyone in this room!”

“Come on. It is alright to suck in something. We all suck in something.”

“I do not suck in anything! This word has never been in my vocabulary.”

“You are only good in things which you need to study...”

“Not true at all!”

“Let’s see. You had luck with bowling but I guess next time it will be horribly bad again. Typical beginner I would say. Then we have video games, sport, art-”

“Alright. I got it!” Y/N pushes the controller onto Jin. “Take it before I break it.”

“Somebody is a bad loser.”, Yoongi notes as he looks at his other friends. “Somebody else who would like to eat pizza?”

“I am in!”, Mark screams happily. “What about you, grumpy loser?”

“Only if Jaebum wants some too.” She walks back to her friends with a glass in her hands. As Jaebum does not answer her, she sits down on the armrest of the couch next to him. “Do you want to eat pizza too?”

“I am not hungry. I will take a nap.”, Jaebum tells the others whilst he gets up. No one stops him as he walks away.

“I told you, everyone should come but no. Let’s not pressure them to come with us...”, Yoongi converses annoyed. Jin immediately feels that the heat is directed at him. Feeling insulted, he turns to Yoongi.

“What are you mad at me for?”, Jin asks in confusion. “Besides, why do you come up with pizza when we have so much food lying around?”

“Makes me wonder why she was asking him.”

“Is it my fault now?”, Y/N questions.  

“Never direct a question on the sad person... I thought you read a lot.” Her eyebrows narrow the longer she looks at him. “Maybe you only read the wrong things.”

“Let’s not fight.”, Mark suggests. “Maybe we should leave him alone. We distracted him a little at least.”

“Yeah, but the school holidays have just started and it looks like they will still talk about the bakery next week...”

“If they have to sell it, it will hurt him badly.”

“I understand it because of his aunt but do you think it will hurt him that badly?”, Y/N wonders.

“Before his parents got divorced, they used to fight a lot. Whenever they fought, he ran into her shop. It is kind of his safety place.”, Yoongi explains. “He did not open up to us easily that is why we knew about the divorce almost a year after it happened.” Mark looks nervously towards the door in which he disappeared in.  

“Maybe it is better you hear it from him.”, Jin suggests.  

“I do not believe he wants to tell me about it.”

“Well, then we should say nothing else either.”

“Is it about this abusive man?” Their eyes widen when Y/N mentions the word ‘abusive’. “Why are you all looking at me like I am a ghost or something?”

“I am surprised he told you about his dad.”, Mark whispers. “Jaebum usually does not talk about his dad.”

“I was speaking about his aunt’s ex-husband.”, she explains. “Wait, what do you mean with his dad?”, she whispers back.

“Idiot. You are simply an idiot to tell her.”, Yoongi scolds in a quiet tone.

“How was I supposed to know that she is talking about him and not him?”

“I cannot believe you are in the same class as me...”

“Just shut up!”, Mark yells back in a quiet tone. “Why are you moving closer to me?”, he questions as he sees that she is moving closer and closer until she sits close enough next to him.

“Because I need to know what you meant when you mentioned his dad.” Mark looks around in doubt if he should dare to tell her or if he should not say a word. Yoongi and Jin shake their head but Mark remembers Jaebum’s words, secrets should not exist within a friendship.  

“Fine. If he asks, you do not have this information from me, clear?”

“Okay. Just tell me!”  

“When Jaebum was around eleven years old, he noticed that his father is mentally abusing his mother. His mother stood her ground and wanted to throw him out every time but she did not do it because of Jaebum.”

“Just because of Jaebum? Why would she do that?”

“She wanted that he grows up with a mother and a father but this is not what his father wanted. Jaebum asked his father once why he is the way he is to his mother like that. He told us that his father told him that he will leave her alone but therefore, he must bear the abuse. He does not know the reason to this day. Jaebum’s father did not do any mental abuse to him, but he started to abuse him physically. Jaebum was beaten up by him almost daily instead.”

“That is why he never mentioned him...” Slowly she starts to understand from where this carrying behavior from Jaebum is coming from.  “Did he not tell anyone?”

“Only his aunt.”

“That is also why he was so close with his aunt.”

“Both of them were too scared to tell anyone. His aunt asked him about it when she saw that his back started to bleed through his white shirt. That is when she told him about the abuse in her relationship, but she made it clear to him that if he tells his mom about it, she would go to a lawyer the very next day to have her husband out of her house.”

“Did anyone else know?”

“Except of his aunt? No. We only discovered it when we had a sports day in school.”

“He said nothing?” All three of them shake their head without answering. “Did you not notice any changes in his behavior?”

“We thought that he might be tired as it was around the time, he started to help his aunt with the bakery.”, Yoongi explains. “I still remember how his back looked like.”

“How bad was it?”

“His back was just black and blue. He even had bloody wounds from his father belt, at least we thought it was from a belt.”

“Are you trying to say he got beaten up with items?”

“He beat him up with whatever his father got into his hands. That huge wound was from a chair.”, Jin answers as his voice starts to shake. “He never said a word for weeks but he still continued to play football.”, Jin adds as he shakes his head. “He was so afraid to tell anyone especially because of his mom.”

“Are you done talking about me?”, Jaebum questions as he suddenly stands in the room. Their faces turn immediately to him. “I want you all out. Now!”

#bts fanifc #got7 famfic #bts au #got7 au #bts fluff #got7 fluff #bts imagine #got7 imagine #kim seokjin #min yoonji #kim namjo #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taeyang #jeon jungkook #Im Jaebum #tuan mark #wang jackson #park jinyoung #bambam #choi youngjae #kim yougyeom #bts x reader #got7 x reader

[big-booty-potato]

brown aesthetic! got7 >>a concept

#got7 #jinyoung #bambam #mark #jackson #jaebum #jjp #got7 smut #got7 famfic #got7 fluff #got7 scenarios #got7 reaction #got7 imagine #bts #aesthetic #kpop #smut #kpop fluff #got7 angst #kpop angst #blackpink #boyfriend #apink #bigbang #cl #2ne1 #exo #fluff

[nartothelar]

Hello! Is it ok to recommend you fanfictions? I just found the famfics written by marzipanda and thought you would like em. They have your type of angst.

Yeah! I’m always up for recommendations! Be it angst, fluff, or just something you’d think I’d like! 

#I have particular taste tho tbh but I'd gladly check em out! #ask

[aparticularbandit]

Happy? Birthday? Claire?

Summary: Claire doesn’t want a birthday party and tells Birdie so.

Rating: T.

“I don’t want a party.”

Claire looks Birdie straight in the eye.  Or.  Not straight in the eye because Birdie is naturally taller than she is even without heels, and Birdie is always in heels.  It’s not that Claire doesn’t also wear heels – she does – but hers are sensible, much likely to be kitten heels than the multiple, multiple inch stilettos that Birdie wears.  So even though Claire’s heels could make up the height, Birdie’s…exaggerate it even more.

Unfortunate.

Which really means that Claire isn’t looking Birdie in the eye (we are not even going to comment on the whole straight bit) but looking up at her, which…also means that Birdie is looking down at her when she meets her eyes with her own green ones.  Sparkling.  With mischief.

“Birdie.  No party.”

“’Course, Claire bear,” Birdie says, running fingers up what would have been a set of buttons if Claire were wearing a button-up shirt (she isn’t).  She taps just at the center of Claire’s collarbone and then tilts her chin up. “I wouldn’t dream of throwing you a birthday party.”

Claire’s eyes narrow.  She hates when Birdie is like this.  (Actually, on a normal day, when they’re in private, she loves when Birdie is like this.  Playful. When Birdie does this sort of thing, asserting her dominance, what she really wants is for to Claire to bite back, to snap at her fingertips, to lock her jaw around Birdie’s throat.  Even now, frustrated as she is, Claire can’t help but let her eyes wander to the smooth, pale flesh of Birdie’s neck.  She resists the urge to lick her lips.)  “You better not.”

Birdie raises one perfectly sculpted brow – everything about Birdie’s appearance is always perfectly sculpted, perfectly meticulous, perfectly perfect; for all that Birdie acts like she doesn’t know anything, she does know this: she knows appearances, and she always knows how to make herself look just the exact way that she wants (whether that’s something anyone – or everyone – else wants is another thing entirely).  It isn’t Claire’s birthday, yet, so she isn’t quite dressed like a present, but she leans down, brow almost touching Claire’s, and whispers, “What happens if I do?”

“Nothing.”  Claire almost – almost smiles as she says it, a sweet sort of thing, an expression she reserves only for playing with Birdie, for toying with her the same way as she is being toyed with.  Then she continues, clarifying herself as she sees the eager grin starting to spread across Birdie’s face, “Birdie, if you throw me a party, I will do nothing to you.  No kisses. No cuddles.  Definitely no—”

“You won’t talk to me?” Birdie interjects, eyes widening, unable to keep the shock out of her voice.  “You wouldn’t do that to me, Claire.  That’s just....”  She crosses her arms, stamps one foot.  “That’s not fair.”

It’s also not what Claire was going to say, certainly not something she was going to suggest, but hey, if it gets the point across.  She gives Birdie a stern look.  “No birthday party, Birdie.”

Birdie pouts.  “Yes, Governor Debella.”  She tugs her lower lip between her teeth as its corners lift ever so slightly then leans forward, both brows raising.  “What about a birthday present?”

Claire considers this for a moment.  Her gaze flicks down briefly to Birdie’s lips and then returns to her eyes, green and warm as a sunbeam.  “Is it one I’ll get to unwrap?”

“Is that what you want,” Birdie asks, tapping her finger just in the center of Claire’s chest, “governor?”

Yes.

Claire doesn’t let her eyes drop from Birdie’s this time, even as Birdie’s head tilts, as her eyes examine her curiously.  She forces herself to hold her ground.  It’s more fun this way.  “What do you think, Bird?”

“I think,” Birdie brushes her lips against Claire’s, lingers – she’s such a fucking tease – and then continues, “you should get half of your present now and half later.”  Then she pauses, brows furrowing.  “Or…how would that even work?  I can’t just let you strip me now and then wait for the sex; that’s not really fair either, and I would much rather—”

“Shush.”

Claire presses her lips against Birdie’s, fingers itching to the back of her neck to keep her head angled down.  She breaks just enough to murmur, “You always talk too much, Bird.  You need to learn to be—”

This time, Birdie cuts her off, grinning with mischief as she does.  “Take your own advice, Claire bear.”

~

It’s only later, wrapped up together, tangled in Birdie’s silk sheets, that Birdie leans over, kisses Claire’s cheek, and whispers, “Happy Birthday, Claire.”

Claire just sighs.  “It’s not my birthday yet, Bird.”

Birdie just shrugs.  “Right. You haven’t had the party yet.”

“Birdie Jay—”

#bandit fic #famfic fluff #glass onion #claire debella #birdie jay #clairdie #this was going to go in another direction and then didn't #whoops #-shrugs-

[ao3feed-eremika]

Dancing with the Devil. || Levi x Reader (Mafia AU).

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2M4v57H

by Leviphoria

“You shouldn’t be following guys like me. You never know what could happen.”

(Mafia Au).

Words: 650, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, 凹凸世界 | AOTU Shijie | AOTU World, アニメガタリズ | Animegataris (Anime)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Levi, Levi Ackerman, You, Reader, Hange Zoë, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Jean, Connie, mikasa, Eren, Armin, Erwin, Berthold, reiner - Character, Reiner Braun, Sasha Blouse

Relationships: Levi/Reader, Levi/You, Eren/you, Jean/Reader, Eren/Reader, Hange Zoë & Reader, Levi & Reader, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman/Reader

Additional Tags: Angst, Smut, Violence, Dominance, Fluff, Lemon, Top - Freeform, botTom, Sex, mafia, famfic, Fanfiction, Anime, aot - Freeform, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Manga, Love, Guns, Scary, Alpha Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Female Hange Zoë, Protective Mikasa Ackerman, Protective, Alpha - Freeform, Goals, gun - Freeform, Men - Freeform, women, Sexual Content, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Drugs, Money, References to Drugs, Reiner - Freeform, Character's Name Spelled as Bertholdt

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2M4v57H

#ao3feed #fanfic #eremika

[ao3feed-obikin]

FAMfic

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2BOkFUn

by bereweillschmidt

Anakin and Padmé's marriage is failing (it's not that bad) and Anakin escapes to find his former Master after being expelled from the Order. He takes Leia with him.

Words: 10737, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Mace Windu

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Second Chances

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2BOkFUn

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #obikin #star wars

[aparticularbandit]

me: okay which project gets a chapter update next

me: i should finish the thing for agatha's birthday

also me: you know whose birthday is this weekend

me: 😄

Which really means maybe Claire will have her birthday fic ON TIME unlike. Agatha. Who got her present it's just not done being written. Yet.

#musings #bandit writes fic #famfic fluff #claire says she doesn't want a birthday fic #all grumbly #arms crossed #sorry claire you're getting a fic #birdie is very excited #/why did i tell birdie/ CLAIRE HONESTLY

[aparticularbandit]

Essence

Summary: Something in the center of Claire’s chest tightens.  Maybe she was wrong.  When he said people like us, he must have just thought she was gay, not like him.  Maybe she shouldn’t have—

He smiles.  “Hey, Claire. Nice to finally meet you.”  Then he leans up, brushes a hand through her too short hair, and, without hesitation, kisses her.

It’s the first time she’s ever been kissed in her life.  None of the others count, because they weren’t kissing her.

This is the first one that does.

Claire Debella/Devon Debella

word count: 2822

Their first date is in the dead of winter – except that, technically speaking, it is winter yet, since winter won’t start for another couple of days – so, really, their first date is in the dead of fall, when there are no more trees with leaves left to be transitioning from their summer green through their full glory of golds, scarlets, burgundies, just the bare branches scraping at a grey cloud covered sky, threatening to snow but never really doing it.  The sharp tree limbs haven’t broken through the barrier yet.  Alas.

Claire stands with her hands clasped together in front of her, uncomfortable the way she always is, looking up at the sky and the little puffs of white cloud her breath makes when she breathes out.  She shivers only when a hand rests on her shoulder and turns to meet the green eyes that glare so dark under the lamplight, the shorn undercut and long brown hair drawn back into a low ponytail, the t-shirt with sleeves torn off that reads fuck me yourself in all caps, blood red and edged with white against a black background.  Her date looks bad, grumbles that name that isn’t hers in a rough voice, and she nods.

It’s the dead of fall, when the leaves are gone, world running towards the darkest day of the year, cold bone deep with no snow to make it worthwhile, and her body is the world itself, dead and dying, uncomfortable, uncomfortable, discontented, skin stretched over wrong bones, wrong shape, wrong self, but the world gets to remake itself every year, and Claire is stuck like this, short nails painted black because that, at least, is acceptable.  She shoves a hand through her short, short, short hair and tries to offer her date her softest, gentlest smile.

Everything soft and gentle feels like teeth bared for an attack when she looks like this.

She hates it.

As they proceed, Claire doesn’t read the barest hint of attraction from her date, not that she’s ever been particularly good at that, but she feels a sort of kinship that she can’t explain.  Maybe that’s why they’d been given each other’s numbers, not that they’d both decided to stay in their halls over winter break instead of going….

Claire can’t go back.

She can’t.

Maybe her date feels the same way.  But she doesn’t ask.

~

It isn’t their only date, but it is for a long time.

Instead of dates, they meet up just to hang out.  To the outside world, it might look like dating, but to Claire, it isn’t.  If she isn’t being honest, then how can it really be a date?  Except…except the first was a date.  But something about that felt different, like there were expectations.

There are none here.

Eventually, her not-date invites her, in that low, gruff voice, to come to a support group.  She asks what sort of support group but never gets an answer.  Well, she’ll support her new friend in whatever way she can, but she’s not sure she’ll be of much help if she doesn’t know what the group is.

For people like us is the only answer she gets.

Claire doesn’t know what people like us means until they get to the group.  Support group is not what she would call it; it’s a queer group, and it bothers her immensely that her friend would include her as someone they might help.  (It bothers her, but it warms her.  She can feel the heat straight in the middle of her chest, radiating out to her fingertips, and she wonders if she’s actually been seen.  She wants that; she’s afraid of it in equal measure.)

It is only afterwards, when he kicks the toe of his boot through drifts of snow, his hands shoved into his pockets, that her friend confides in her that he’s a guy.  “I thought you should know,” he says, staring down at the ashen snow instead of up at her. “It wouldn’t be fair to you if you didn’t.”

Claire opens her mouth just enough to let a puff of warm air cloud above her. She doesn’t want to confide in him now, but she feels it, that small opening of acceptance.  “What’s your name?”

“Tom,” he says, “although I’m still working out the kinks.  It doesn’t feel right, you know?”  He shrugs. “Or maybe you don’t.  Names are so weird.”

“I think it’s divine.”  Claire hesitates then sets one fingertip under his chin, lifts his head so that his dark green eyes meet her calm blue ones.  “I’m Claire,” she says, voice soft, quivering, because it feels wrong to say it out loud, but it also feels right.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tom.”

The corner of Tom’s eyes widen.  “Oh.”

Something in the center of Claire’s chest tightens.  Maybe she was wrong.  When Tom said people like us, he must have just thought she was gay, not like him.  Maybe she shouldn’t have—

Tom smiles.  “Hey, Claire. Nice to finally meet you.”  Then he leans up, brushes a hand through her too short hair, and, without hesitation, kisses her.

It’s the first time she’s ever been kissed in her life.  None of the others count, because they weren’t kissing her.

This is the first one that does.

~

Privacy is a weird and beautiful sort of thing.

Tom changes his name to Joseph until Claire asks him whether or not it would be okay for her to call him Joe or Joey, at which time he promptly changes it back to Tom.  That only lasts a few moments before he requests she call him Matthew – he doesn’t have a problem with Matt, but the moment she drags it out to Matty, he makes a disgusted face.  “I hate the –ie nickname,” he says, pushing a hand through his hair, and then he grimaces again, raking fingers through the longer length.  “And I hate my hair.”

“You could cut the rest of it off,” Claire suggests.  She tilts her head to one side and reaches across, picks a strand up, and runs it through her fingertips.  “I don’t know how you get it so soft.  Mine’s always,” she gestures, “like this.”

Tom-Joseph-Matt gets up immediately, pads on bare feet through his apartment, and returns with a fancy shampoo bottle. “Mom’s a hair stylist,” he says as he passes the bottle over and sits down on the floor.  “You can keep that.  She’ll get me another one if I run out.”  He scowls, crosses his arms, and leans back against his couch, stretching his feet out in front of him.  “She’ll also literally kill me if I cut my hair any shorter.”  He leans his head back with a sigh.  “You should grow yours out.”

Claire startles.  “No.” When he gives her a look, she shakes her head.  “No.  My hair looks all greasy and grotty when I grow it out.  Trust me.  I’ve tried.”  She shoves her head in her hands.  “Why haven’t they made a body-swapping machine yet?  Then we could just switch.  Your mom would love me.”

“What about Jared?” Tom-Joseph-Matt says, twirling a strand of hair around one finger.  “You can’t make a nickname out of that.”

“You can make a nickname out of anything, Jare.”  Claire raises an eyebrow.  “Red.  You could dye your hair and be a ginger with that one.”

Tom-Joseph-Matt-Jared shoves her hard enough that she topples from her perch on the arm of his couch. “I’m not a ginger.”

“It’d bring out the color in your eyes nicely.”  Claire stands, brushes crumbs from her thighs.

“Ugh, you sound just like my mom. Are all girls like this?”

Claire shrugs, but her lips curl with happiness at how easily he refers to her that way.  She leans forward, softening as she brushes strands of his hair away so that she can kiss his forehead.  “You’d know if you were one.”

At her words, he startles, and his cheeks flush a bright red.  He looks up, eyes drifting easily to Claire’s lips, and crosses the distance between them to kiss her.  “I love you, Claire.”

“I love you, too.”  Claire doesn’t use his name before kissing him back, unsure whether Jared was an official change or something he’d thrown out to debate.  She cups his face, runs her fingers along the shaved down sides of his undercut, and tilts his face up, closer to hers.  “I love you, too.”

~

Once, Tom-Joseph-Matt-Jared-Wilbur-Bartholomew asks Claire how she’d chosen her name.

“I think it chose me,” Claire admits, leaning up against his headboard. She stares up at the popcorn ceiling, focusing on the texture as she remembers.  “I always….”  She presses her lips together, cuts herself off, wets her lips.  “I just heard it once, and I knew.  That was my name.  I knew it like it had always been my name.  I…I don’t know how to explain it any better.”

He snorts, and Claire glares down at him.  “I’m sorry my name is so amusing to you.”

“No, ugh, Claire, that’s not what I meant.”  He pushes his hand up his face the way a cartoon character might push up slipping glasses and leans forward until his chest flattens against his bent up knees.  “It’s just not fair.  Your name coming easily to you and mine just…ugh.”  He wraps his arms around his knees and stares forward.

Claire kisses the sharp edge of his shoulder blade.  “You’ll figure it out eventually.  Maybe look at meanings.  Is there anything you want it to mean?”

He shrugs.  “I want it to mean me.”  Then he glances up, meets her eyes.  “Why don’t I just use your name?  It’s not like you want it.”

Claire shoves him as hard as she can, and when he barely moves, she presses both hands onto his shoulders and pushes him back until he lays flat on the mattress.  “You can have it,” she says, still pinning him down.  “I’ll hate it, but if it fits—”

“It doesn’t,” he says, staring breathlessly up at her.  “I tried it for myself before I even met you.  It’s a horrid name.”

“It is, isn’t it?”  Claire situates one leg on either side of his hips and leans down, kisses the tip of his nose, and grins as he wiggles his nose, grins as he leans up with a matching grin, grins as he kisses her, hands curving slow up her back.  Like this – with him – she feels as close to herself as she’s ever felt with anyone else. She hopes, suspects, it’s true for him, too.  His strap presses hard between her legs, and she wonders.

~

They walk to class hand-in-hand.

Tom-Joseph-Matt-Jared-Wilbur-Bartholomew-David-Jonathan-Nathan drops Claire off at her upper level poli-sci classes and picks her up after class is done, at which point she promptly clasps his hand in hers and walks him to his upper level art classes.  She pecks his lips when she drops him off, and he wraps his strong arms around her in a nearly bone-crushing hug when he drops her off, and everyone thinks they are the most in love couple they have ever met.

They aren’t in love – not in that sense – but they are open and honest and themselves with each other that they really aren’t with anyone else.  He’s a little more open than she is, frequenting the queer club at least once a month, but after that first time, Claire never goes back, not even to drop him off.  Being that public scares her.

Already, Claire is a politician.  Whoever she is, she has to be something more in public.  She can’t be herself.

She hates it, but it is what it is.

~

“Why don’t we go somewhere?”

Tom-Joseph-Matt-Jared-Wilbur-Bartholomew-David-Jonathan-Nathan rarely brings the subject up, but he does so now, tossing a baseball back and forth from one hand to the other.  It’s a nervous habit, but an endearing one.  “After college.”

“I can’t.”  Claire shakes her head.  She always shakes her head.  “All of this will follow me, Nate.  It will ruin me. I want to be a force for good here, and even the Dems are….”  Her lips press together.  “They won’t vote for me.  Not if we – if I—”

“So we go somewhere,” he says again, stepping to her, clasping her hands in his.  “Somewhere no one knows who we are, and we just…we become us.  And we restart.  From the ground up.”

Claire steps back, but she doesn’t take her hands out of his.  “Nate, I—”

“Claire.”  He takes her face in his hands, runs his thumbs along her cheekbones, and meets her eyes.  “Claire, you have to do it.  If you have the chance, if you know what you want, do it.  And fuck the rest of them.”

Her gaze drops.  “It’s hard.  Restarting.” She licks her lips.  “And we’d have to have our names straight before we get out there, or else…else they’ll track us back here.”  Her brow furrows, and she looks up.  “Both of us, Nate, or they’ll track you here, they’ll find me through you, if we do this together—”

He swallows.  Nods.  “I’ll figure something out.  We’ll change our names here, before we move.  Get all of our ducks in a row.”

Claire’s gaze drops again.  “I’ll have to get married,” she muses, stepping back away from him.  She taps her chin with one finger, turns, begins to pace.  “Men tend to do better in political polls, women do better if they’re married, if I want to make up lost progress, then…then I’ll have to get married.”

“I’ll marry you.”

Claire barely pauses in her pacing.  “That’s funny.”  She shakes her head.  “I’ll think of something.”

It won’t work.  She knows it won’t work.  But he’s…but he’s right. If she can…if she can—

~

Claire’s hair curls unnaturally at the top of her ears.  Uncomfortably.  She’s tried to tuck it back more times than she can count, but it isn’t quite long enough yet.  The shampoo Tom-Joseph-Matt-Jared-Bartholomew-David-Jonathan-Nathan-Gabriel-Troy gave her so long ago has worked its magic; it’s made her hair so much softer that she’s decided to try and let her hair grow out again.  It still doesn’t look quite right, but….

It’ll get there.  Everything will go well, and it will get there.

The words hang in the air between them again – I’ll marry you – and he holds her long-fingered hands in his stubby ones.  She never thought he was serious, but then he’d gone through the benefits of friend marriages and assured her that if she found someone else, he would divorce her quietly; that would be fine because so many politicians had so many divorces and remarriages that if she had one in her past, it wouldn’t be too horrible.

“You’ve thought this through,” she says, and she glances up to meet his dark green eyes.

He nods.  “I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your chances, Claire.  You know that.”  He almost smiles, corner of his lip quirking ever so slightly upward.  “You’re the only politician that I feel actually gets me, you know?”

Claire chuckles lightly at that.  Her head tilts to one side.  “You know you’re going to have to finalize your name.  No changing it after we get married.”

“Oh, I’ve finally found one,” he says.

At his words, Claire’s sculpted brows raise with curiosity.  “Oh?”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he says, “but Devon.”

Claire makes a face.  “No.  No. Absolutely not.  You’re not that kind of bro.”

Devon holds up a finger.  “I took your advice, you know.  Looking at meanings and stuff like that.  And do you know what Devon means?”

“No.”

Devon grins.  “Finally, something I know that you don’t.”  He leans forward across the table, whispers in her ear.  “It’s divine.”  As he settles back in his chair, his grin spreads, nearly beaming at the shocked look on Claire’s face.  “And I was thinking about…about our last name, you know, because it needs to be something great.”  He taps his finger, hard, on the table.  “Debella – it’s something like from beauty.”  His brows raise.  “It’s good, right?”

“Your initials would be Deedee,” Claire quips, “and that’s a really bad translation.”  She leans back against her chair, folds her arms against her chest, and considers before a soft smile lights her lips.  “But I like it.”

“You just want everyone to call you beautiful all the time.”

“It was your idea!”

But Devon is already laughing – guffawing – slapping his thigh like an old man. When he finally quiets, he says, “Maybe I just want to call you beautiful all the time.”  He reaches across, grips her chin gentle.  “Maybe I want you to remember that you are.”

Claire kisses him as easily as she has been for as long as they have been together.  Easier, maybe.

This could work.  This will work.

And no one will ever have to know.

#bandit fic #famfic fluff #glass onion #claire debella #devon debella #claire debella x devon debella #devon debella x claire debella #let me ship claire and her actual husband alright