#its about being allowed to still be friends with someone even after the messy breakup

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

“Adrien made Kagami realize she’s a lesbian because she was not attracted to him” is boring and overdone.

Kagami made Adrien realize she’s a lesbian because she called him her “boyfriend” and he flinched and she was like “oh shoot what’s wrong” and he was like “i dont know, boyfriend is a really weird word for some reason” And because she’s Kagami, instead of being like “oh he clearly doesn’t want me” she just sat him down immediately and started googling Other Words and trying All of Them, and then she tried “do you want to be my girlfriend?” on a whim and he was like “holy shit this has awoken something in me.” And then kagami was like “oh huh i may be a lesbian.”

#adrigami #adrimi #im alive sorry for not posting for like a year #time to go back into hibernation love u all #kagami tsurugi #miraculous ladybug #i am still here with my very specific interpretations of adrimi #they are so important to me #i love them so much #love their season 5 dynamic love that theyre still friends #projecting sooo much onto them #its about being allowed to still be friends with someone even after the messy breakup #but also being allowed to be mad #and being allowed to Wish for something Else with them but to still be okay #i am probably not making any sense im jusy #i love them too too much theyre my emotional support undefined mess of a relationship #and also theyre gay #idek in what way but in Some Way #the ‘secret hidden queer romance’ to ‘secret hidden queer friendship because the romance didnt work for them #but they are both now super commited to helping each other with their secret queer little relationship endeavors #this is why kagami is trying to help adrinette happen #because gay rights #hope this helps #and they can be queer so many different ways i just #clutches heart #incare about tthem #theyre sooooooo not normal in some kind of way #both when they are dating and when they are not

[thecameronchronicles]

Closet Confessions

TW: Cheating. Smut. Semi-public sex. Language. 

SUMMARY: Your ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement with Rafe came to an end not that long ago after he began dating your friend. But you two just can’t seem to let it go…

WORD COUNT: 1200

*Requested*

Request ❤️ Rafe and the reader were secretly hooking up almost everywhere but decided to cut it off when Rafe got together with one of the readers friends

Butttt..when they are at party Rafe can't handle it and takes her into a closet of something?

Closet Confessions

There wasn't a section in the entire Outer Banks in which he hadn't made you come. Not a position you hadn't tried or hidden space you hadn't made your own. But that all changed a few weeks ago when he had ended this string of hook-ups and began officially dating one of your friends. Of course, the fact you weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, had meant that you didn't have to endure the ordeal of making your friends choose sides through a messy breakup. Instead, the only thing that seemed to change had been the fact that you didn't use each other for that specific outlet anymore. 

Where he had her, you had the memories of him to use through your attempts to move on. Attempts that became harder every time you saw them together. His arm draped across her shoulders as you couldn't help but wonder if he called her all the same things that made your heart flutter as if that smile on her face was any indication, they were as happy as they were intertwined. Annoyingly so. And yet, his eyes would pull upwards towards you every so often in a silent regret that you weren't the one beneath his arm. But with this left unspoken, you were only left with a monetary glance and sorry eyes that eventually prompted you to need distance. 

Luckily, you would find a distraction in one of your shared peers, a name that didn't matter but a face handsome enough to forget about him. But only for fragments of time. This was worsened as you could feel his eyes shift to you. Even as his arm was wrapped around her and his lips were taking hers in pecks, his mind seemed to remain to you. Frustrated with this, you pulled your conversational partner to the section of the beach house used for dancing and allowed him to paw you publicly, in the way Rafe never did. Whether it was this silent victory or the way the music had controlled your thoughts, you had forgotten of the sting of their presence before needing a reprieve. 

Exiting the bathroom after slipping away for a time, a sudden force pulled you into a hallway closet just large enough to fit you as linens and a vacuum cleaner joined the space you quickly learned to harbor Rafe. 

"Careful, this might be kind of hard to explain to your girlfriend…" 

"What are you doing?"

"Being kidnapped I think.. "

"I know we agrees to end this, but I still care about you…and seeing you flaunt yourself like this-"

"Flaunting? I'm living, Rafe. I don't have anyone to tie me down…but just remember that YOU were the one who ended this between us. Not me-" You reached for the door but he spun you against it, a gasp expressed from your lips as he pinned you to its cold wood. 

"I have fought calling you every goddamn night…But you're here…in the dress that's my favorite for how accessible it always was," His fingers traced up your thigh as you simply allowed it. You craved his touch, familiar to you, so much so that you didn't care for the guilt in hurting your friend. You just wanted more. And you showed this by pulling the collar of his shirt toward you until his lips were dangerously close. 

"Letting someone else touch what was mine not even a few weeks ago-"

"And how do you think I feel seeing you with her? Knowing you've touched and kissed and-"

A soft kiss interrupted you as your list continued. 

"Knowing she's heard you pant her name," Another kiss, another interruption. 

"Knowing she's been able to wake up in your arms while I've been-" This kiss that would silence these words would be done with tenderness, as if it had acted as an apology in its itself. But your hands pushed at his chest. 

"I don't want to share you, Rafe." 

"I haven't fucked her." You cocked your head, "I cant…"

You rolled your eyes as he would slip his fingers beneath your dress, disposing of your panties, before lifting you against the door and away from gravity. 

"Not when all I can think about is you." He kissed your chest. "Your skin…" the soft moan from your lips would make him list this aloud as he used his free arm, not wrapped around your back, to expose himself at the near promise of a relief.

"You clenching around me…Even if I've tried…I can't because my cock knows where it belongs…"

"Then why is she smiling like I used to after you'd make me come?" He paused. 

"Because I tell her all the things I wish I wouldn't told you…show her off as I should have done to you…but I always think of you-"

"Then why are you with her?"

"Because you told me no. And she is the closest I can get to having you…" 

"You have me close right now.." He nodded, taking you onto his cock. 

"And I'm going to remind you thay you're still fucking mine…" He breathed against your lips, taking the back ofyour neck in his grip as you built in speed over his shaft. Sweat allowed an easy glide before you were taken against his mouth as he had to silence your whimpers. 

"Your moans are so fucking sweet, they're addictive…YOU are addictive-"

"Yeah?" He nodded. 

"Then overdose, Rafe…I want to make you so high that you need me-only me." You explained, running your hands through his hair and tangling your tongue around his. 

"I do-"

"Fuck…" You breathed as your back pulled into an arch. 

"I'm gonna fucking come…this dress, this goddamn pussy, it's all making me-"

"The come…come inside me right now, Rafe…I'm close…I'm so close knowing you want me…" You pulled his hair to make him look at you. 

"But tell me you want me."

"I don't want you-" Your eyes narrowed. "I fucking need you." These words were the final push necessary to reach that high, those cruel thrusts of a mutual release keeping you in tremors before he would return you to your soles, pulling down your dress and adjusting your hair. 

"What the fuck are we gonna do?" He asked while you fixed his shirt. 

"You are gonna keep playing the role of a dutiful boyfriend….while I get to have the benefits-"

Your name was spoken in confusion and warning as you kissed his lips. 

"You want me, Rafe? This is how you can have me…" You left the ball in his court, well aware that you would only hurt each other if making an attempt to be monogamous, but still unable to part. So this, whatever this selfish need had been, would be what was possible for you to still know his touch and for him to have you close. And that would be enough. 

For now…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

#rafecameron x reader #outer banks #obx #drew starkey #outerbanks #rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #outer banks smut #rafe cameron smut #rafecameron #netflix #rafe cameron x reader #obxsmut

[salemorbit]

Do-Over

[Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro Hero!Reader]

warnings: angst y'all i'm feeling angsty; ends with fluff hehe; it's a LONG one boys!!

~~~~~~~

in which you and bakugou hit a speed bump in your relationship

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

You dropped your keys on the table next to your door, slamming it shut with a sigh. You grimaced as you turned awkwardly to strip off your jacket, your shoulder twinging with pain from a minor injury during your recent scuffle.

The apartment was dark, not a soul around to greet you or wait up for you at such an hour. And that was fine, that was how you lived. But deep down inside, at this moment, you felt a pang in your chest that took the shape of a specific blond haired fireball.

Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you unlocked it and let your thumb glide instinctively to the contact that you talked to the most. You pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear, slipping off your shoes gratefully.

It went to voicemail. Not even his mailbox was set up, just the automated number played in your ear. You let the robotic voice run through its mantra before leaving a message at the tone.

"Hey, it's me. I just got home. I...just wanted to make sure you were okay." You fiddled with your belt. "Call me when you get this."

You clicked end and slid your phone on the counter, leaving it be while you undressed from your work clothes. You cradled your whining shoulder as you slid off your shirt and tossed it aside, mentally making a note to do laundry later.

The past few days at your hero agency had been hard. There were so many hoodlums and villains clogging up your to-do list that you barely had time to call your boyfriend and make sure he was doing all right. It was radio silence from him nearly all week.

But you two had been busy. For some reason, this week was the one time that every baddie wanted to cause chaos. Or at least it felt like it. You slumped down on your dingy couch and stared at the ceiling. Hero work was exhausting, and you didn't even know if it paid off in the long run.

And just a few hours ago you were dealing with a messy explosion of villainy in the middle of your district. It was hard to keep the destruction in check, and you had gotten minorly injured in the process. Your sore shoulder was a scar to boot.

Katsuki had been there, in fact a few of his co-workers had been, too. But he didn't pay you any special attention. You didn't know if that bothered you or not.

Yes, you were both on the job and vowed not to let your relationship get in the way of your hero work as much as possible. On the other hand, you hadn't seen or spoken to Katsuki in a whole week, and the first time you had and he didn't even nod a greeting. What was his issue? It wasn't like you had gotten into an argument or anything.

Shuddering out of thought, you heard your phone buzz once on the counter. You got up and checked it, half expecting it to just be a junk mail message. You were surprised to see that it was a message from Katsuki himself.

I'm home. Goodnight.

You frowned. That was it? You called and left a message, he hadn't spoken to you all week, and all he sent was a three word text?

You didn't know what overcame you, but the frustration inside bubbled up and spilled over in an instant. You turned and activated your quirk out of pure adrenaline, chucking your phone across the room and sending it straight through the apartment wall and soaring into the street below.

That calmed you down quickly. You ran over to your window and threw up the sash, looking down and around for your shattered piece of a phone. But it was gone. You sighed heavily and shut the window, storming into your bedroom and falling into your sheets with a huff.

Now you needed a new phone and, quite possibly, a new boyfriend.

•••

The next day you were off of work, so you took a pain reliever for your shoulder and headed to the nearest phone store to get a new phone. After awkwardly explaining the situation to the clerk, you received a new model and decided to pay a visit to the one man who had gotten you so riled up in the first place.

Katsuki would've been lying if he said he wasn't relieved to see you on the other side of his door that afternoon. He'd had a tiring week, and honestly all he wanted to do was spend time with you and recharge for the most part before doing it all over again.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the frown on your face and the angry tapping of your foot as you stood in his doorway.

"You seem unbothered," you said shortly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and let himself get shoved aside as you bustled into his apartment.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Katsuki muttered as he shut the door. You grit your teeth and crossed your arms, obviously unhappy, though Katsuki couldn't figure out why.

"Go look in the mirror and take a guess," you glowered. "What's your issue? Why haven't you returned any of my messages this week?"

"I've been busy, you know that," Katsuki crossed his arms as well, not allowing you to have an intimidation factor in this conversation. "This week was hell."

"It was busy for me, too, but I still made the time."

"What are you going on about, dunceface?"

"Your inability to communicate!" You threw your hands in the air. "I've been trying to check in on you this week, but you haven't responded, if at all. And you didn't call me back last night! Just a text? One? I wanted to make sure you were okay after that fight, and you didn't even humor me."

"So? I'm fine."

"I didn't know that," you stressed. Katsuki let out a breath, still not getting it, and this made you even more angry.

"I don't know where this sudden clinginess is coming from-"

"It's not being clingy!" You erupted. "Are you so dense that you haven't realized how checked-out you've been recently? I've given you multiple opportunities to pick up the slack. I've excused your behaviours, given you space, and respected your silence this entire time. You haven't given me anything to work with. It's called being concerned and trying to keep our relationship going, which you don't seem the least bit interested in doing."

"And what if I'm not?" Katsuki growled, just plain upset you were accusing him of things he wasn't doing, at least in his mind. "What would you do if I didn't want to keep this schtick up, huh?"

"Then I'd be wasting my time standing here," you snapped. "And I'd have wasted the last two years on you."

Katsuki felt something in his chest cry, shattering and splitting through the floor below his feet. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying his best not to set his living room on fire.

You were there. You were right there, somewhere you hadn't been for the last week. And yeah, he'll admit that maybe he's been a bit distant lately, and the sudden influx in hero-work definitely wasn't helping the situation either. But he was trying to deal with things he hadn't quite felt before, one of those things being his feelings for you.

As of recent, something had shifted in his gut. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, and it wasn't like he was going to consult Kirishima or Kaminari about this. God knows they'd just make fun of him for worrying about your relationship.

Did he feel ashamed? Was it embarrassing him that he felt like this for someone? Katsuki Bakugou didn't get embarrassed, so what was this?

"I think we're done here," you muttered, looking down to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. You slid around Katsuki to reach the door, but you were stopped by Katsuki grabbing your arm gently.

You jerked your arm from his grasp, turning to look at him with your chin held high, keeping your trembling lip from showing itself. Katsuki had something in his eyes that had never been there before, and you hated it. You hated that you couldn't read him anymore.

"I don't know you like I thought I did, Bakugou." He flinched at that one. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll see you around."

And you were out the door and out of his range, leaving Katsuki Bakugou to stand in his living room at a loss for words. Something he hadn't been ever since he first met you.

•••

You took the breakup terribly, to say the least.

Yes, you were technically the one who broke it off, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to do it. You didn't want to shut things down like that, but Katsuki had left you no choice. He wasn't getting it, and it felt like he was going to continue to not get it. You just couldn't spend your energy like that anymore.

Mina and Momo were there for you from the second you broke down at a bus stop and called them to pick you up. They were there in a split second, not pressuring you for information until you wanted to tell them.

They were more disappointed in Katsuki than mad. They didn't like how he hadn't been communicating things with you about how he felt or why he had been distant. You broke and told them how it had been going on like this for almost a month now, and this last week was just the tipping point. They backed your decision and got you anything you needed for the next few days, until you were able to be on your own and process the emotions you felt.

Katsuki hadn't tried to call you at all. No texts, emails, voicemails. Your phone was a dry desert, except for the concerned text Midoriya sent you after you assumed Mina and Momo had told him about the debacle. He offered to talk to Katsuki about it, but you declined. It was best to just let it be, let it sink in that Katsuki had messed up royally.

Meanwhile, the man in question was quiet for the next few days. His coworkers noticed his lack of remarks, his friends noticed his distant appearances. All Katuski had been doing since you walked out that door was think. He was thinking long and hard about what he wanted, where you fit into his life, and the way he had acted as of recent. This was quite possibly the most Katsuki had ever thought about anything; typically he was so sure on the get-go that he needn't time to stop and reflect.

But this was different. You were different.

It wasn't until the next Saturday after your breakup that Katsuki found himself on the other side of your apartment door, hand poised to knock. He decided he didn't want to do something like this over the phone; it was just too impersonal. So he mustered up the courage to face you again, and prayed you wouldn't throw him out of your four-story high window in the process.

He knocked, waited. No answer. Getting slightly annoyed, he knocked again, louder. Still no answer.

Katuski was now incredibly annoyed, and bent down to take the key from under your doormat and just unlock the damn thing himself. As he lifted the mat, he saw a slip of paper taped to the floor where the key should've been:

Don't try to break in. Calling the police is not below me.

Katsuki huffed, standing up and going to knock on the door again when he was interrupted by the rustling of paper bags. He turned over his shoulder and saw you standing on the opposite end of the hallway, holding some grocery bags in your arms and staring right at the blond standing on your doormat.

There was a tense few moments of silence before you broke it, audibly frustrated.

"Can you get out of the way so I can put these inside?" You frowned. Katsuki blinked, then moved aside to let you fumble your key in the lock dumbly.

"I can-"

"Shut up," was all you said before opening the door and letting it bang against the inside wall. Katuski stood on the threshold, unsure of if he should just walk in or not, before inviting himself in as soon as he figured you wouldn't give him the time of day. He watched from your counter as you passive aggressively slammed things on the counter or into their place in your kitchen.

"Care telling me why you're here?" You asked, flat-toned and not looking at Katsuki in the slightest.

"I wanted to talk."

"About?"

He rolled his eyes. "Us, dimwit."

You stopped and let your head hang, propping yourself on the counter with your hands spread flat. You still didn't look up at him, which was greatly pissing him off.

"We already did. Last week," you said.

"That wasn't a conversation," Katsuki ground out. "That was you coming to me and exploding out of nowhere. I didn't even have the chance to-"

"It wasn't out of nowhere," you interjected.

"Stop interrupting me, damn it, and just let me talk!" Katsuki spat. You looked up at him with a withered look, making his fire simmer down immediately.

"Fine," you said, voice wavering slightly. Katsuki cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He smiled slightly, bittersweet. You didn't react, so he went on.

"You're an idiot because you've got terrible tunnel vision," he said, glancing at the living room that looked like you had been sleeping in. You had a perfectly tangible bed in the next room, but there were just too many memories in there for you to spend the night in again.

"I can see fine," you grumbled.

"No, you can't," Katsuki looked back at you. "You haven't been able to see how hard I've been trying these last few weeks to figure things out. Figure us out."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to know that if you don't tell me anything?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from rising. The last thing you needed was a fight. You were just too tired.

"That's...something I need to work on," Katsuki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "And I will admit that. Don't make fun of me for it."

"I never said I would."

"Great, because I gotta whole lotta other things to admit to." His eyes narrowed. "I don't wanna hear shit from you for the next five minutes, got it?"

You sighed, miming zipping your mouth shut as you went back to putting away your groceries. You might as well let him talk, since you knew his stubbornness wouldn't let him leave your kitchen so soon without him getting in his two cents.

"I've been thinking long and hard lately," he began. "On my own. Nothin' from anyone else except my own thoughts. So this is one hundred percent me.

"I screwed up. I did. And it took me a minute to realize it because I was so much in my head about things. I was so focused on trying not to mess us up that I went and did that shit anyway. And all you've been is supportive and caring, and quite honestly I don't know how to handle that since I haven't really been with anyone like that."

He was being honest, you knew from his tone of voice. It was a tone you had heard only a few times before this moment: when he told you he loved you. And you believed it.

Katsuki took in a breath: "So I'm here. And I'm sorry. At first I was mad at you for marchin' into my house the other day and spewing things I knew nothing about, but then I realized that you were spewing those things because you knew nothing about me and where I was at. And that was frustrating for you because you got that whole communication thing you like to do, or whatever."

"Or whatever," you mumbled to yourself, smiling slightly. He picked up on that, his spirits lifting a bit as well.

"I've just been thinking about things and where you are and who I want you to be to me as we live our lives. And I screwed it up by not talking to you about that either. It's a conversation we both should have. So," he sighed, "I'm sorry. And I'll continue to be sorry because you don't deserve to be left in the dark. I love you, and I want to be better."

He finished his little speech and the two of you were quiet. You had paused putting things away about halfway through, really listening to him and what he had to say. He deserved that from you in the least.

You looked up at him and saw that he had already been staring at you, an intent look in his eyes. It was your turn now. He wanted a response to his being vulnerable. You knew it wasn't easy for him to open up like that, despite the last two years of helping him get comfortable, so you didn't torture him with the suspense.

"We'll see," you said. Katsuki did a double take, eyebrows furrowing.

"We'll see?" He repeated. You nodded rounding your counter to stand in front of him.

"If we want to keep doing this for however many more years we keep doing this," the corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, "then we'll just have to see."

"Great," Katsuki rolled his eyes and sent a seething glare out the window. "I totally lay myself on the train tracks and you just run me over like that. Thanks."

"But," you continued, trying to catch his eye, "I appreciate you coming to me. And I appreciate the apology. However, I won't know if I can accept it until I know you'll actually go through with it."

"Understandable," Katsuki sighed, comprehending this. "I deserve that one."

"Are you ready for a do-over?" You asked, catching his hands in yours. He couldn't help but notice a weight in his chest lift at the presence of your touch after weeks of barely anything. Katsuki still had some work to do, but it was worth it if he could keep you around.

"Always," he kissed you on the forehead and you smiled giddily.

"Awesome because we now have two weekends of cuddle-time to make up for, and my bedroom hasn't been used in a week," you led him to your door.

"Oh no," Katsuki complained sarcastically, "however will we make up for such lost time?"

"Shut up, you big doofus," you grinned. "You know you love me."

"That I do."

~~~~~~~

a teensy tiny bit of OOC bakugou near the end there but like. he'd be a sucker for that and totally willing if it was just the two of you around HAHA

anyways this was cute and i....am forever still in love w bakugou :))))

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #my hero fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #katsuki #katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero fanfiction #boku no hero #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou fic #my hero academia fic #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou angst

[hushedhands]

Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew—“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the ��fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.���

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”

#challenge #Astra and Andrew Challenge #RIP your dashes if the Keep Reading doesn't work #its almost 16000 words long #one for every tear I cried breaking Andrew's heart

[hyunsracha]

some things — kim seungmin

word count: 2.6k

summary: your life with seungmin was full of routines. but some things change.

Some things never change, you assumed.

The cool metal of bleachers was a constant under your thighs, as was the open binder that sat in your lap. The contents of said binder changed with the seasons, but your eyes scanned them the same. The analytical glare you always wore stayed the same, eyes only ever softening when they came into contact with him. 

Him, with his perfectly styled hair, hours of practice barely messing up the strands. Fitted baseball uniform snuggly pressed against his tall frame, beads of sweat forming at the brow. The sounds of his heavy steps on the bleachers were music to your ears as you pulled your attention from the papers in front of you. 

“What are you studying?” He breathed out, accepting the water you offered to him out of habit.

“Cost-benefit analysis.”

“Again?”

“Unfortunately so. A majority of the class failed our last test on it, so we’re doing it again.”

He chuckled, “But you passed, right?”

“94%.” You grumbled down at the paper. You shouldn’t have to relearn things you already knew. But you had familiarized yourself with every part of this course the first week; you weren’t learning anything new at this point. You closed the binder when he cleared his throat.

“Wanna take a trip to Smith’s? On me.” It was always Smith’s, and it was always on him. But that’s just the way the two of you were. Since you were freshmen in high school, 4 years ago. Your father had gotten a job at a firm in a different city, causing you to uproot your entire life just after middle school ended. On your first day in a completely new area, Seungmin saw you eating lunch alone and decided to join you.

“C...Can I sit here?” You remember him saying, pointing a shaky finger to the seat beside you. And you had nodded, forcing yourself to hide an excited smile.

“What’s that?”

“Oh!” You frowned at the heavy book you had placed next to your tray, “It’s a law textbook. My dad is a lawyer, and he wants me to be one, so I have to read all of this stuff.” You didn’t know what you wanted to be yet, but you certainly didn’t want to be a lawyer. You would frankly rather die than argue with strangers in stuffy ties all day long. But apparently, Seungmin did, “I wanna be a lawyer! Can I see it?” You nodded again, pushing the book his way. You allowed yourself to smile once you saw the way his eyes lit up at the words on the pages. 

Seungmin hasn’t left your side since.

Maybe that’s why you fell in love with him years ago. Because he never left your side. Even after you broke each other’s hearts on a set of bleachers identical to the ones you were sitting on now, too young and too dumb to be good for each other, he never left you. 

You forced yourself up, collecting all of your things and putting them in your bag before following Seungmin to his car. You knew how to drive, and you had a car of your own that you bought in high school, but Seungmin’s car was nicer, and he was nice enough to drive you around all the time. You knocked impatiently on the window for Seungmin to unlock the passenger side door, as you always did. And you immediately plugged your phone into the aux once you were seated, as you always did. Full of routines, you and Seungmin. But that’s what worked between the two of you. How could you ever want to do anything different? 

Well…

You watch him while he drives, a playlist of Dean and Day6 songs soft in the background. He drove with one hand, the other resting on the center console, tapping mindlessly. Maybe you did want to do something different. Maybe you wanted to reach out and wrap your fingers around his. Maybe it would feel like it used to.

You shook your head. You already knew you and Seungmin wouldn’t work out. But then, why was your face suddenly red at the mere thought of holding your best friend’s hand?

Smith’s was a small cafe on the outskirts of town. The two of you have had many a study date here. The warm atmosphere mixed with its cheap coffee made it one of your favorite places in town. Bonus points for the cute barista you had made friends with at the beginning of the year. 

“(Name)! Seungmin! My favorite customers! Your regulars, I assume?” The previously mentioned barista chirped. How Jisung could be so cheerful all the time, you didn’t know. But you always appreciated the extra brightness he brought to your days. You made small talk with the boy as Seungmin paid, not failing to notice the brightness of his cheeks and the small sun he drew on your cup, but not your friend’s. You knew Jisung had a bit of a crush on you; he had practically admitted it to you one night when you were studying alone. And you would go for it, honestly, but there was something holding you back.

That something pushed the warm cup of coffee into your hands, tilting his head toward your favorite table. You followed his footsteps, situating yourself in the booth. The two of you always sat here. Same table, same drinks, same boy. And it felt right.

Conversation with Seungmin was always easy. How was class, how was practice, is that one professor still seemingly trying to flunk you? You could flow from topic to topic with the brunet without skipping a beat. This was the purest version of yourself; no schoolwork, fathers, or expectations making you act differently. Seungmin always brought out the real you, and you figured one day you would have to thank him for that.

Some things do change, you discovered.

You looked past Seungmin’s sheepish grin as his words sunk in. 

You were sitting on the bleachers again. This time, your binder was open to a print-out

about personal finance. Seungmin wore the same baseball uniform with the same perfect hair. But this time, something was different. 

Seungmin was telling you about his upcoming date.

It wasn’t the first time either of you had started seeing somebody else, obviously. It had been over two years since you broke up. 

Let’s see...you had dated Hwang Hyunjin junior year. It ended horribly. You also went on a few dates with Lee Minho last semester. And Seungmin had dated Choi Lia that same year. And Shin Ryujin senior year. And Yang Jeongin senior year. None of those relationships ever upset you. Well, except for the breakups. Especially his breakup with Ryujin. That one was messy.

So why did the idea of Seungmin going on a date with someone new make your stomach flip with something besides excitement for your closest friend? But you smiled anyway, shutting your binder firmly, “Tell me about it!”

“Well..” He started rambling about this boy named Felix that he had met in his algebra class. You could see how excited he was in the way his eyes shone and his hands shook. You couldn’t not be happy for him. So you swallowed your unnamed feelings and placed a hand on his shoulder, “You got this, Min. He’s gonna love you.”

And love him, he did. As did you.

You couldn’t be mad, you really couldn’t. Especially not at Felix. He was probably one of the sweetest people you had ever met. 

Seungmin introduced the two of you at Smith’s, at your favorite table. At first, you were upset. How dare someone come and stain the perfect routine you have with Seungmin? But then you got to know the boy, and you understood why Seungmin liked him so much. Felix was a pretty boy with a face full of stars, yet he shone like the sun. You tried to ignore the burn in your chest when you looked down and saw their hands intertwined. 

When Felix left to go to the bathroom, Seungmin turned to you with the brightest smile you had ever seen, “He’s cute, right?”

You forced a laugh from your throat as you nodded, “He really is. I can tell he likes you a lot.” Of course you know what it looked like when someone liked Seungmin. All you had to do was look in a mirror. 

The three of you stayed at your table for a few hours, chatting and giggling until Seungmin said he had to take Felix home. After they waved goodbye, you let out the groan you had been holding for hours, resisting the urge to slam your head on the table. 

You needed a drink. Not alcohol, but hot coffee to warm the coldness inside of you. Approaching the counter, you plaster on a smile, “Hey, Jisung.”

He smiled back, something big and bright and beautiful, “Hey, (Name). The usual?” You nodded in response. As he turned to prepare your drink, he spoke again, “Why do you always get the same thing? Why don’t you try switching it up?”

You hummed. He did have a point, you supposed. You liked your drink, and you liked your table, but sometimes you itched for something new. Seungmin was breaking from your routines. Maybe it was your turn. 

Perching on one of the stools near where Jisung was currently working, you answer him, “I think I will try something new today. I’ll get an iced matcha latte instead. And…” You heaved a sigh. Maybe it was time to move on; start new routines, “...and your number.” 

Some changes are necessary, you’re still learning.

Being with Jisung was good. Jisung was good to you. You felt good around Jisung. He was a perfect gentleman, the type to open doors for you and pull out your chair. He made you laugh, and he was one hell of a kisser.

Seungmin unfortunately had to discover that when you showed up to your spot on the bleachers late one day with messy hair and swollen lips. He just stared at you, an unknown feeling bubbling in his chest. He knew that your appearance was because of Jisung, and he didn’t like it one bit. Maybe he was feeling protective. His best friend was messing around with some barista boy they barely knew. That was it, right? 

He pointed to your neck, clicking his tongue at the purple mark present on your skin, “What is that?”

Your hand followed his finger, face flushing a dark red once you realized, “Shit! Sorry, that was...Jisung...he- yeah.” The collar of your shirt was too low for you to cover it, so you just kept your hand over the spot, unable to make eye contact with the boy in front of you. His eyebrows shot up, and you could see his jaw clench before you, “Okay.” He turned to go back to practice, his break long over. He seemed upset, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe he was just being protective. But you were an adult, you could handle a hickey or two. You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought, opening your binder once more.

Weeks passed, and you believed you were settling into a new routine. A routine that involved more Jisung than before. Not quite joined at the hip, you and Jisung spent lots of time together. And you always pushed for more. He was so good, so kind, so sweet. But something was missing. So you planned more dates, hoping to light that spark that would start a fire. 

It never came.

On one of those dates, you spilled your guts. You had drank a little too much. You were still conscious, but you were feeling a little loose-lipped. Blame the Desperate Housewives drinking game the two of you were playing. Your guts just so happened to be filled with love and affection for your best friend, as opposed to the boy sitting across from you who looked at you with stars in his eyes. He had only sighed, taking your cup from you and dumping the remnants in the sink.

“You’re not mad?” You had pouted. 

He breathed out a sad chuckle, “No. I sort of expected it. I’ve seen you two interact...I knew I was only a placeholder. It’s okay.”

He walked you home that night and helped you get ready for bed, only leaving after he was sure you were asleep, plugging your phone in in the living room so you didn’t drunkenly text anyone.

You were thinking too much. Thinking too much about a certain boy, which only made you feel more guilty, considering that boy wasn’t the one you broke up with the night before. So you came to your spot on the bleachers. A part of you hoped he would sense you here and come running, wrap you up in his arms and make it all better. But he was probably out with his boyfriend right now. God, you felt so stupid. Falling in love with your best friend again? Not to mention the whole ex-boyfriend thing. Maybe you never stopped. Maybe every time you looked at him and felt your heart rate increase, it wasn’t in a friendly way. You wrapped your arms around yourself. The wind was cold and you were only wearing a thin t-shirt. You should’ve thought about this before running out here, but the bleachers were the only place you wanted to be right now. You couldn’t cry; you weren’t sad enough to cry. Your phone pinged once, twice, three times. No doubt texts from Jisung, probably saying that he wasn’t mad and he would see you at the cafe and you were still friends. 

The sounds of his heavy steps on the bleachers were music to your ears as you pulled your attention from the baseball diamond in front of you. You furrowed your brow, “What are you doing here?”

He took a seat next to you, “I could ask you the same.” He paused, “Felix and I broke up.”

Well, that was surprising. You turned to face him, concern lacing your features. He felt your eyes on him. He always did. “I realized some things and...we just weren’t meant to be.” You wouldn’t pressure him to speak, but you couldn’t help your curiosity. 

“Jisung and I broke up, too.” His head snapped in your direction, making surprised eye contact with you. He reached out, placing a warm palm on your knee. Your skin burned at the touch, like it usually did. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I realized some things, too.”

“Count of three?”

“Count of three.”

This was a thing the two of you had always done. If you both had news to share, you would say it at the same time, so one piece didn’t overpower the other.

“1...2..3...I still love you-”

“I still love you-”

The wind seemed to suddenly halt its attack on your shivering frame. The two of you stared at each other blankly, your minds taking their time processing each other’s words.

I still love you.

You’re opening your mouth to respond when Seungmin takes the initiative, leaning forward and crashing into your lips, rough and gentle at the same time. Your entire body feels like it’s been set on fire, scalding skin set ablaze by Seungmin’s lips over yours. His hands are on your cheeks, your neck, your waist; anywhere he can grab to pull you closer. This is what he was missing. He liked Felix, but the boy was unable to light a fire inside of him like you did. Powerful yet warming, every movement of his lips was laced with the adoration he had been holding in his heart since you broke up all those years ago.

Some things change for the better. You and Seungmin change for the better. 

#seungmin #kim seungmin #stray kids #skz #seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #seungmin imagines #kim seungmin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids seungmin #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

[they-reap-what-we-sow]

The Witcher Mall AU

so i’ve been yelling at @beeruler​ about this idea for the entire morning, but imagine if you will, geralt is not a witcher, but is a mall cop at Cintra Mall, and Jaskier works at the Cinnabon.

i have a LOT of thoughts about this so i’ll leave a couple here and the rest under the cut :)

Calanthe was set to retire from her job as a principal at a very fancy private school but then she found out that this mall was being demolished to make office space and she was not about that so she bought out the other owners to keep this mall running and now she is the owner of the mall along with her husband

Ciri is the granddaughter of the owner of the mall so everyone there loves her and she hangs out all the time after school. Calanthe worries about her mixing with people from the “wrong side of the tracks” or whatnot but it's hard to keep Ciri away because she found out that her father was from the other side of town and wants to find a connection to her roots

The Witchers are a security company that Calanthe hired to keep an eye on the mall. Ciri is unnecessarily close to all of them and they dote on her like a daughter. Dara is from the other side of the town and he and Ciri meet up at the mall to do what they think are cool things but really they just badly skate board, and loiter in front of no loitering signs. Eist thinks that hiring a security team full of ex-navy seals is a little excessive, but calanthe knows that it's the only way she can keep Ciri safe

Geralt knew Ciri's Dad when they were in the army together, and when he went down on the battlefield he asked Geralt to make sure that Ciri was okay. Geralt just checks on Ciri after the funeral and then leaves because she has the rest of her family, but Fate still gets in the way when the security company Geralt decided to work for starts working for the mall

i’ve got so many more hot takes  and also some art under the cut keep goinggg

i call this my paul blart mall cop au, and i’ll tag everything for it under PB!Witcher if you want to follow it! oh, and there are more drabbles to come for this, i am WAYY too invested to let this one go

Geralt doesn't work full-time at the mall he takes private security jobs occasionally that help keep his bank balance well secured.

Whenever he notices someone's stealing from the big shops at the mall, Gerald will look the other way if it seems like they needed it desperately enough

He really doesn't intervene unless the theft will affect the bottom line of the store itself

Once Ciri found out that Geralt and her father used to be friends he has a hard time getting rid of his tail. As he makes his rounds around the mall he very often spots Ciri and her little friend attempting to follow him he presumes subtly

Whenever Ciri decides to hang out in the parking lot of the mall, in the back corner where there are no cameras Geralt often finds himself checking up on her. Which is a good practice because of that one time when Ciri got riled up and insulted someone who was saying rude things about Dara, and he had to come in and break up a fight between and and 11-year-old and a 20-year-old

geralt holding back siri by the scruff of her hoodie

Ciri full on throws herself into any fight available because she knows that somehow Geralt will find his way into it and defend her

Calanthe never liked Ciri's Dad, so she doesn't want Geralt influencing her granddaughter but she knows that Geralt is the only thing between Ciri and a very quick trip to the hospital

So she tolerates Geralt and what he reminds her of

Roach is a huge old pickup, it's like a really fancy classic one, and no one knows how Geralt can afford it ((it's the private jobs))

Yen is the owner of the occult cafe at the mall. It's called Aretuza, and you can make your own coffee there using really cool-looking potion bottles and spells and stuff. No one is really sure if her magic is real or not but the coffee is heavenly. The shop itself books normal from the outside but when you step in the entire atmosphere changes in it looks like you're 30 ft underground. The shop is carded and there is no entry allowed for anyone under 21. they don't serve alcohol there or gamble or anything but yen just doesn't want kids in her shop. Calanthe was originally against it but when she realized that it would keep Siri out of more ways to get into trouble she let the policy stand. There's a back room in the shop which that is rumored to be home to a lot of very adorable kittens, but the one rule of the back room is that you don't speak of the back room.

Even though it's the sketchiest looking shop in the mall, none of the security team ever has reason to go in and help out, Tissaia, the owner's girlfriend is force enough to make sure that everyone stays in line

Nilfgaard is a rival mall that keeps trying to compete with Cintra for customers and I don't know mall competition things

Borsch owns the cinnabon except that he got into a fight with the corporate office who didn't like the independence that borscht was taking with their menu so he's technically not a real cinnabon franchise. All he did though was add an M on the sign where the N should be, and operates how he likes. Tea and vea are the actual front-facing employees and they make a version of the cinnabon that is almost sinful and never quite seem to get burnt when pulling things out of the oven ((borsch runs a Cinnabom :) ))

Triss is upper-level mall management. Calanthe bought the mall but she doesn't really care to spend her time managing it, she just makes sure that it stays float and that nilfgaard keeps its hands off of it. She gets Triss on board to deal with everyone that she doesn't feel like dealing with. Triss handles all the communication between the store owners and the mall, she makes sure that everyone is getting along and deals with troublemakers as she sees fit. She's friends with yen's girlfriend, and spends a lot of her free time hanging out at their store. She knows Geralt because they met at a particularly messy private job of his which is something that bonds people. She's also the one who organizes the entertainment nights at the mall and is in charge of publicity and customer engagement. She's really good at her job she knows exactly what the people want to see and can calm angry egos and pissy customers

She also used to date one of the other witchers I really don't know who it would be but I think that'd be fun ((bees suggested eskel, which is fantastic))

i had to stop myself from making jaskier’s story all angsty again but oh well lol

Okay so Jaskier's family has their own law firm, and he was supposed to join after law school except Jaskier did not want to sit in an office all day instead he wanted to pursue his passion of music and singing so he moved out of the house and started singing on the streets for exposure. One day he meet s Missy Stael, who falls in love with his singing and they eventually move into her house together. Jaskier keeps singing and recording demos in hopes that someone will scout him and goes to a lot of open mics where he drags Missy to listen and critique. Jaskier and Missy eventually breaks up and he decides to move out and find another way to pursue his passion, but he has a hard time of it and ends up couch surfing for a while. Missy finds out and lets him rent her frankly extraordinary basement to live in, while she and her new boyfriend live upstairs. They're not bad landlords, and Jaskier goes over for dinner a couple times a week. Still now he has to find a way to pay rent that's already very generous when his income is usually little to none

Jaksier meets Yennefer when He's singing on the street. Yen walking with tissaia, who notices his sign that says tips for a roast. Tissaia tips him and he has asked for roasts the life out of the two of them and the end gets really mad because she doesn't know why this random street singers insulting her. She almost punches him out before she notices what the sign says, and the two become friends. Jaskier actually spends a couple weeks on her couch after his breakup, and when he tells her about needing an actual job to pay rent, she's got some ideas

The first time Geralt meets Jaskier isn't at the mall it's at a very exclusive party where jaskier has gotten a little too friendly with the host's younger sibling. Gerald comes along to escort Jaskier out of the party, who thinks he's going to die when this absolute mountain of a man grabs him by the arm and gently pushes him towards the door. As he's very quickly walking away Jaskier looks back to see Geralt haloed in the light of the doorway behind him, and Jaskier in that moment is more afraid and attracted than he's ever been

#the witcher #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction #witcher au #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #geralt z rivii #Jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #calanthe #queen calanthe #calanthe x eist #king eist #eist #ciri #princess cirilla #cirilla fiona elen riannon #dara #pavetta #Yennefer of Vengerberg #tissaia #aretuza #cirilla of cintra #cintra #the lion cub of cintra #pavetta of cintra #borsch

[pandawritesmanythings]

(A Medieval!AU Loki x Stark!Reader Story)

Chapter Summary: Where our adventure begins...

Word Count: 2,018

Warnings: Angst? Breakups?

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much to those who liked the idea and decided this story was worth your time! I hope you enjoy!

-

Loki found himself looking out the window, while the woman on his bed slept soundly. He took a breath of the salty air that belonged to that dark and secretive night. A night of caresses and whispers, always aware that anybody could walk in but fully devoted to each other.

The northern star sparkled brightly against the dark sky and he found himself staring at it. At the millions of stars that he had explored yet still so many, he had out of his reach. He couldn't map further from what he could see. But there was no brighter star than the one that he had left to rest on his bed.

He approached her quietly and sat beside her. A hand petting her hair to wake her.

"Time to go love." He whispered as her eyes fluttered open.

She let out a heavy and sleepy sigh. "Must I?"

"I wish you hadn't. But you must."

"If only this wasn't so complicated..."

"Yes... If only." Loki stared out of the window. He knew this night was the last with his true love. "But despite what happens tomorrow, you must know that it was you. It was always and will always be just you."

They pressed their foreheads together, him trying to transmit his love for her and her trying to suppress the tears. After tonight these secret rendezvous and quiet cuddles would be no more. The dark prince was going to marry someone else, and there was nothing either of them could do.

"Promise me you'll never forget me." She asked him.

"I promise. But you also have to promise that you'll move on."

She kept quiet. Her golden hair was messy and it had fallen off her braid. Despite her disheveled look, she was still the most beautiful creature to Loki. His angel was struggling with her words, but he couldn't blame her. This was for the best, but it didn't mean that it wasn't hard.

Finally, she conceded. "I-I promise..." 

That night they would finally admit their love to each other, but they would have to painfully part before that love could ever be consumed.

-

The day of departure was extremely stressful for you. You paced around your room and Wanda helped you finish going over your luggage.

"Are you sure I have everything? Maybe double-check the list." You nervously paced as you pulled your dress to make it neater for the umpteenth time.

Wanda bit her lip in amusement. "Darling, this is the third time we have gone over about what you are taking and what you aren't. You have to take a breath. Everything will be fine."

You sat in front of your vanity and looked at the bags under your eyes in the mirror.

"Alright. Yes. Everything will be fine." You placed your head in your hands, and even though you tried to convince yourself, you had to admit that you really weren't feeling confident.

"This just needs to work Wanda. It does. I can't afford to slip up."

She kneeled next to you, and understanding look on her face. "I know my dear friend. But it will do you no good to worry like this. Come, you must speak to your brother. If you are nervous I can't begin to imagine how nervous he is."

You nodded and led the way to your little brother's room. After knocking, his brown eyes met yours and he beamed at you before tackling you into a hug. Not very princely like, but you loved him a lot so who cares.

"You came!" He beamed at you.

"Of course I came!" You smiled back. "I wouldn't want to leave without saying goodbye!"

A sad look crossed his face. "Do you really have to go?" He sheepishly asked.

"I know it's not ideal Peter, but it will only be for a little while, with some luck I'll be able to come back here soon." You tried to remain positive but the teen remained with a worried expression etched to his face.

"But you won't come back alone, will you?"

You hesitated. Your parents had been adamant about not letting Peter know many details, but you couldn't lie straight to his face.

"Best case scenario I won't."

"Why does that have to be the best-case scenario?" He grumbled, becoming slightly more annoyed.

"You know full well why Peter." You straightened up. "This is my duty and I'll fulfill it if I have to."

"But what about-"

Your glare and stern look shut him up immediately, especially after noticing a pair of guards walking nearby.

A sigh fell from your lips. "I don't wish to fight you."

"Me neither."

"Then please understand. I just want you to care for Morgan. And don't worry about me. I'm the royal heir. It's my obligation to worry about arranged marriages, not yours."

Both of your foreheads were pressed against each other. Both trying to draw strength from the other and still show your love, because you knew that in public you wouldn't be able to.

"I love you, little brother."

"And I, you."

-

The realm consisted of 9 kingdoms. Towards the ocean, was Asgard. A beautiful and towering kingdom. Rich in resources and culture. It was one of the biggest and most prosperous of the kingdoms.

To it's right was Vanaheim, which was a series of hunting tribes that had their own system of government. It was unusual for the Vanir to leave Vanaheim, and the thick vegetation and merciless fauna rendered it almost impossible to travel through it if not guided by a local.

To Asgard's left was Alfheim. An illustrious monarchy that made its home on the edge of the mountains, and had made itself rich for acquiring the precious gems and stones that decorated their palaces and streets. They lived quietly isolated and had refused for centuries to trade with any of the other kingdoms. But they had accepted to do so thanks to the Yggdrasil Accord.

Deeper into the mountains was Svartalheim. Their kingdom was to be found inside the mountains. Not much was known about them since they had remained isolated from the other kingdoms and despite the Accord, they still mostly kept to themselves.

At the top of the mountains and the subsequent valleys was Jotunheim. This kingdom was hostile. They bred warriors from infancy and were terribly dangerous to the other kingdoms. They were the strongest in the military sense. They had the best strategist and fiercest warriors. It was no surprise that anyone who approached the kingdom uninvited had gone missing and never heard of again.

In the valley below the mountains, there was Nidavelir. A kingdom of artisans and poets. A stark contrast to their Jotun neighbors, they were a complete opposite to them. Being mostly unarmed and interested only in refining their craft and methods of farming, they were the kingdom most defenseless yet with the most resources of the bunch.

Next, there was Niflheim. This was a neutral zone. A zone that was for the rulers of the kingdoms to come together in peace. As a result, the people of the place were pacifists and tried to share their ways with the other realms.

Then there was Hel. It had once been a powerful kingdom. But a raging fire had turned the green and beautiful forest into a barren and ashy wasteland. The people who lived there were ruled by their queen who barely had contact with the other kingdoms. Their system works like any other tribe would.

And finally, right in the middle of all the kingdoms, there was Midgard. The youngest of the kingdoms. This was your home. And this was yours to protect. Once you were old enough to understand your responsibility you took it with honor. Your small but resourceful centric land was everything to you. And you would protect it against the other kingdoms with your life.

"You've been looking at that map for a long time." You heard your father's voice.

He was coming towards you. His confident stride contrasting with the worry lines and sad smirk.

You smiled back at him before you looked back over the map. "Just making a mental list."

"For?"

"Well. If I am to go to Asgard I must make a good case for my visit and arrangement, must I not?" You smirked back at him, hoping it would lighten his mood.

To your delight, he seemed to relax a bit, but it didn't last long before he took a good look at you and smiled sadly.

"You've grown so much, you know?" He cupped your face in his hands and brought you in a hug. "I'm proud of you."

You couldn't cry. You wouldn't allow your self. It wasn't fair to him. He needed you strong. 

"I love you, dad."

"And I love you, my little girl..."

The doors opened and you saw your mother stride in. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed as her cream dress did. She was the image of perfection and grace. Oh, how you wanted to be like her when you grew up.

She called your name softly and embraced you. You felt her love in the soft hug. She looked at you with the same fondness as your dad.

"She's become such a wonderful woman, hasn't she, Tony?"

He nodded in agreement. "Almost as beautiful as her mum."

"Oh, hush you make me blush." You teased.

"You'll be a wonderful queen when the time comes my dear." Your mother nodded towards you, disregarding your last teasing comment.

"Thank you, mother."

"That's why I keep saying that you don't need to go to Asgard!" Your dad tried to sway you once more before you left. "You're absolutely capable of managing Midgard by yourself! Just saying!"

Your mother tried to interject, but you beat her to it. You held your dad's hands and looked earnestly into his eyes.

"I know that, dad. I truly do."

"Then why go?" He basically breathed out, it was painful for everyone, but you knew that for your father it was probably the hardest.

"You know why. There is no other option. At least not one that would want to make an alliance with us. We have the common ground, and benefits to profit of." You lowered your head in slight resignation. "We both know that this was not what we had planned. But I'll do whatever it takes to keep our people and my family safe. Please... You have to trust me."

He looked back at your mom, searching for her to correct you, tell you there was another way, anything. But when he saw the resignation on her tired eyes he knew there was nothing he could do. You were going through with this. Like it or not, you were going to do it.

"I trust you. I just don't trust the Asgardians."

You pulled a section of your skirt where there was a hidden knife and he raised an eyebrow at you. "How many?"

"Three more under the skirt." You flipped a thin razor from your long sleeve dress. "One right here, just in case."

"Attagirl." He smirked back at you.

"Now those are for emergencies, alright dear? We don't want war. Please reconsider taking so many." Your mom tried to interject.

You gasped exaggerating your expressions. "Me, by myself at a strange kingdom and you prefer I go unarmed? Mother, you wound me worse than any Asgardians ever could."

She raised an eyebrow at you, unimpressed. "I'm just saying choose your battles, child. You go to make peace, so avoid inadvertently causing a war between us and Asgard."

The three of you went over the plan and the proposal once more, before they escorted you outside the castle and let you off to the mysterious land than was Asgard. 

As your home and family faded in the distance you saw Peter hugging Morgan to his chest who cried for her big sister. You finally allowed the tears to run. For you, your family, and everything that was about to be taken away from you.

-

TAG LIST (OPEN)

#loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson #medieval!AU #loki x sigyn #steve x reader

[toast-the-unknowing]

do you have any tips for getting over someone? we haven't been together for long but it was still meaningful to me, and i'm at a loss for what to do even though we parted amicably

A relationship that ended on good terms is still a relationship that ended. It gets to be painful and confusing if that's how you experience it. It gets to suck even though it's not a "bad" breakup. It gets to be messy in your head even if it's neat and bloodless on paper.

Parting amicably is easier and more pleasant than the alternative, but it also robs you of a narrative that helps you make sense of the breakup. We understand a relationship that ends because of infidelity or a new love or a betrayal. When you don't have one of those, it can be hard to talk about it or think about it. If it takes you some time to wrap your head around the breakup, that's okay. Your story about the breakup, your understanding about the relationship, the meaning that you walk away from this experience with, those can change over time.

Losing a relationship can hurt even if it wasn't a long one. You're not just mourning the time you were together. You're mourning the time that you won't have now. You're mourning the person that you were in that relationship. That's not easy shit to go through. Sometimes sadness will hit you fast and hard and out of the blue. Sometimes you can feel it creeping up on you all day. Let it in. Sit with it. It's going to get inside anyway.

Honestly there is no "getting over someone" for me that does not involve a lot of crying, but then, I'm a big crier, I cry about everything. You know best how you process sadness -- whatever those things are, allow those to happen. Put on your sad songs playlist, do something dramatic to your hair, read every hurt/comfort fic in your current fandom, watch those favorite movies for the ninety-ninth time, whatever the routine is. You can't get over something without acknowledging that you lost it.

At the same time: breakups suck, but dude, relationships can suck too, when you get right down to it. Even a meaningful relationship that forever carries fond memories and good feelings in our hearts, where we wish the absolute best for our exes, even those relationship have parts that were more grit your teeth and bear it than love and joy. I think at one point after a breakup I stopped short and said, out loud, "now I don't have to finish A Song of Ice and Fire." I never have to have another conversation with my ex's obnoxious roommate. I don't have to circle my ex's neighborhood for thirty minutes every weekend looking for parking. I will never again eat a single slice of vegan pizza.

These are obviously all petty examples but -- in the immediate aftermath, petty is good. Reflecting on the relationship and realizing I hated the way that we handled conflict, wow our communication styles did not mesh, hm those are some problematic patterns of behavior we fell into -- those are good things that one absolutely can and should learn from, but -- later. For now: petty.

One thing I found helpful after my last breakup was to think about how really, truly absurd it was. She sent me a breakup text thirty minutes after I got home from being out of town on vacation. Did she have that scheduled in her calendar? What else was in that calendar? Did she block out some time afterwards to cry about it? Maybe I'm flattering myself. Or maybe she didn't get to because the next thing on her calendar was, like, go to staff meeting -- this was a Friday morning, she planned this shit out ahead of time but didn't decide to wait one more day until the weekend? That is some funny-ass shit, dude. At least, it was, for me, when I needed it to be. Absurdity is a great attraction-killer. Absurdity is the anti-heartbreak. It's easier to get over your ex when you picture them entering a calendar appointment to text-dump you, and I admit that’s a pretty specific set of circumstances, but I bet if you looked for them, you could find some absurdity in the end of your relationship, too.

There's ten thousand cliches about time being the best or only thing to heal a heartbreak; those have some truth in them. There's a bunch of cliches about making time go faster by staying busy; those also have truth in them. Covid is a weird-ass time to be going through a breakup, but it’s a weird-ass time for everything and we're five months into this, so you've got some hobbies and methods of socializing in place. Put them to work. STAY BUSY. Do the things you already know you like. Do them to an obnoxious degree if you want to. Play the same video game three times through in a row so that you can get every single steam achievement, who cares? This is your time now.

Is there something you like doing, or something you've been interested in doing but never tried, that your ex was not into? Now is the time. Watch that movie in the genre your ex hated. Take that online class in the thing your ex thought was stupid. Make that food that your ex thought smelled bad. They aren't here, they don't get to decide.

Reach out to the people you have in your life. Obviously, close trusted friends are great for talking about the breakup. But talk to them about other things. Ask them about their shit. Talk about whatever dumb movie you just watched. Reach out to other friends, too: who's someone that messaged you and then you didn't get back to them and now it's been too long and you can't message them back now it'll be awkward -- message them now. Send them a meme, who cares, they're probably covid-bored too.

Reach out in other ways: is there an organization near you looking for volunteers? Is there some event happening in one of your fandoms where you can get really into reading and commenting and promoting? Human interaction can be hard to come by right now, but it's not impossible. In some ways it's easier than ever to say "I want to talk to someone" because everybody is lonely, even if they didn't just leave a relationship.

This is a great time to check in with your support network. The end of my first relationship was a catalyst for admitting hey, I have some shit I should talk to people about, in like, a medical professional way. The end of my most recent relationship was a catalyst for admitting yeah the shit I have in place isn't really doing the job. That might be a level of care that is unnecessary for you, but it's worth asking if your network is supporting you or if it needs a little boost to its resources, for the long term or just for right now.

Finally: If you want to stay friends with your ex, I wish you the best of luck. But please, don't try yet. Take a break from this person. Block them on social media, don't call or text them, don't ask your mutual friends about them, when someone tries to tell you about them go "hm, okay" and change the subject. Give the relationship time to get fully out of your system before you try to build a new one. Captain Awkward advises six months post-breakup before the "let's be friends" stage and I have no reason to doubt her suggestion. (You know what, all of her advice is good. Cancel this blog post, my actual advice is just to spend a hundred hours reading Captain Awkward.)

#I hope this helps #best of luck anon #Anonymous

[mwolf0epsilon]

Susie chests on Sammy and Norman finding out. What does he do?

Susie isn't the cheating kind, so I've got something worse in mind.

Summary: After a rather messy breakup that Sammy had hardly any time to process just yet, Joey Drew makes matters worse by exploiting two emotionally compromised people. Norman finds himself unable to keep his promises.

---

Times like these were getting rarer and rarer, as Norman barely found himself without any overtime anymore. Not with Joey Drew descending further into madness thanks to his poor life choices and zero management skills. So really, he should be enjoying listening to his brother reciting the usual instructions of what to do or who to call in an emergency, or what the kids were or not allowed to eat.

But really, he was tired and wanted to sit in that comfy recliner where he usually spent a good part of an hour reading a book, while his niece and nephew behaved like the little angels they were. It wasn't like he already didn't know what to do anyway, he was a father himself, plus the two were 16 and 15 respectively. They could be left alone, instead of being mothered by their father.

"Alfred, it'll be just fine. Now you run along and gets some work done." He practically shooed his younger brother away, smirking at the rather comical expression on his face. "They is well behaved, no need ta baby 'em."

"They've got their friend over, so don't go thinkin' I don't gotta worry! That brother o' hers is freaky scary for a scrawny cockerel of a man." He made a show of clearing his ears. "Nearly dang blew ma hearin' out b'fore ta curse did!"

"Sammy gots that effect on everyone. Just don't go callin' him a cock ta his face. Then I'll be ta one ta finally lose my hearin'!" Not that his hearing range hadn't begun taking a hit. A mixture of the hereditary defect and being subjected to hours of loud music, shrill instrument tuning sessions, and the constant droning of the projectors. He was lucky to not be completely deaf by now.

"Yeah yeah, I'm off now. Nelson, Lydia! You two behave now for ya uncle Norman! And be good hosts to Abigail, no runnin' about gettin' messy up there!"

"Yes sir!" The two called in unison from upstairs.

As soon as Alfred was out the door, Norman found himself in the living room falling back into the welcoming embrace of the recliner. He swore he might take it up to his apartment one of these days, just not when he was too tired to clamber up to the last floor dragging a massive piece of furniture with him.

Two sets of quiet footsteps on old creaky wood immediately informed he wasn't alone anymore.

"And what are yous up to now?" He glanced over the backrest and smiled at the three teens that had been plotting to catch him by surprise. "Couldn't hear ya this time Nelson. Remembered the creaky ones?"

"I practiced." Nelson smiled, sticking his tongue out at his sister, who huffed in annoyance.

"I don't like being sneaky anyway..." She grumbles. Beside her Abby chuckles but it doesn't reach her eyes which is... Odd. She's a pretty happy kid in general so its definitely strange for her.

But, sure enough, watching her fiddle with that doll of hers that's not quite Bendy, not quite Boris, she seems concerned about something. Fidgety with unrest.

"Somethin' on your mind Abigail?" He prompts. Both his niece and nephew seem to know what's up as they give her a pleading look when she goes to deny it.

The girl frowns then nods slowly.

"My brother's been very upset. I think it's because his lady friend isn't with him anymore..." She hugged her doll close. Still so very attached to it that she was only comforted by having it with her at all times "He didn't say this, but I know it's gotta be that, because he never complains when he's tired or aching, but now he just looks...Sad."

"That so?" It was Norman's turn to frown. Yes, Sammy had been considerably worse since his and Susie's rather confusing and messy breakup. The two had gone from happy excited couple, to a pair of hostile angry messes. But the worst wasn't even the lashing out, it was the obvious sadness the two felt at the unresolved issues they practically avoided.

Jack had related to him his worries that the stress and personal blow would tip Sammy over at any moment.

Wally had in turn said that Susie was acting weirder and weirder and it was honestly scaring him.

Because of course those two lovebirds were so repressed they couldn't even deal with their own emotional baggage. It could only get worse if they ignored it, and it clearly had an impact on others.

Specifically, and right before his eyes, on Sammy's sweet little sister who was fretting over her brother. That wouldn't do.

"It don't surprise me none. Their argument got real ugly... I don't think they wanted ta break it off, but they is both very...Err..." How to say it without sounding crude to a young lady? His ma would murder him if he resorted to cursing in front of a teenager.

"Dumbasses?"

"Lydia!" Nelson elbowed his sister on the ribs, getting a punch to the arm in return. "Don't gotta be rude about it!"

"But I'm right!"

"You ain't wrong, but ya shouldn't be rude 'bout it Lydy." Norman sighed. He looked back at Abigail. "No offense, but your brother kinda is a dumbass 'bout what he feels."

"Sad but true." Abby nodded with an amused look. "I think he doesn't want people to know he's actually very sensitive. My old nanny, Mrs. Harrison, said it was because our daddy taught him all sorts of backwards things about how he had to act. It's a little strange to me."

"Bless ya for knowin' better than ta not be honest 'bout what ya feel then. Can't do no good pretendin' bad things don't bother ya."

Nelson made a face and glanced at Abigail but said nothing.

"Either way... If it's botherin' ya, I could always talk ta Sammy. Might do him good ta vent about it ta someone who's in no position' ta judge."

"You'd do that Mr. Polk?" Abby smiled up at him. This girl was melting his heart like butter out in the sun, bless the heavens for at least giving Sammy one little ray of sunshine in his life.

"Sure would. Now let's go prepare somethin' ta bite. Yous got classes in the mornin' and I got work."

-

He'd missed something big the previous night, that Norman could tell from the moment he stepped foot into the studio. For one, Sammy was nowhere to be seen, and the band was a disarray of gossip. Then there was also the lack of Miss Campbell's presence, with some murmuring she may have finally gotten fired after pushing the wrong set of buttons. And then there were the worried looks on Jack and Wally's faces that greeted him in his booth.

"What in ta name a' heaven happened this time?" He sounded exasperated.

"Joey took Susie out for dinner." Wally replied.

"Sammy found out and confronted him." Jack added. "Drew... Said something along the lines of... Norman it was bad."

"How bad?" Norman's skin was crawling with anticipation. What happened and how bad?

"Sammy drank a whole bottle of whiskey and went apeshit, is how bad." Wally replied. "It was like looking a rabid wolf in ta eye Norman! If that weren't no psychotic break I don't know what is, but fuck!"

"He broke stuff, screamed, he strangled Whitaker the cellist... Johnny wants to file a restraining order... Norman I don't trust one word out of Drew's mouth. What he said couldn't be true..."

"What did Joey say?!" His blood was boiling at the thought of that devil purposefully setting off the music director for leverage. It was honestly something he'd do.

"That he's been banging miss Campbell since day one? Bangin' her harder than the drummers can drum a tune... Behind Sammy's back no less. All talk, miss Campbell ain't like that sort!"

"And Joey isn't into women. That lying bastard is antagonizing his own workers like we were... Like puppets on a string." Jack shuddered. "And last night he cut Sammy's strings off just to let him fall and flail. I don't know what to do..."

"... Have ya tried askin' Susie ta dispell what he said?"

"That's just the problem... Sammy never left work, just ran off to hide wherever it is he goes. But Susie left and never came back." Jack explained.

"I even went and called her landline, but she ain't answerin'. Like she got outta the country or somethin'..."

Norman bit his lip, closing his eyes and mulling over what to do as he felt his bad eye swivel around beneath his eyelid. The only part of him allowed to run around in circles from this madness.

He had a feeling his promise to Abby about talking to Sammy to sort his feelings wasn't going to be so easy to keep. Not when Drew was back to pulling his tricks.

But at least it couldn't get any worse, right?

Wishful thinking on his part...

#Eps Writes: #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Norman Polk #Sammy Lawrence #Susie Campbell #Joey Drew #Wally Franks #Jack Fain

[uta-no-knb]

God day! Can I ask scenario about Akashi tell his girlfriend about his mother, his childhood and his disorder?

Hello! Yes you can!! I did research which is why this took so long. 

Key points

This takes place your second year of university. You met Akashi during your first year. 

Let’s Begin!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Take a deep breath you said to yourself, as you stood in front of the Akashi manor. You can do this.

Your boyfriend texted you, asking you to come over to discuss something. With your boyfriend being one to discuss serious topics in person rather than text, it made you anxious. Was he moving? Or worse...was he going to break up with you. 

Just ring the doorbell. It’s so easy, just push the button and... You stopped yourself, your hand shaking as it hovered over the doorbell. I...I can’t do it-

“L/N-chan.”

You jumped in surprise as you saw your boyfriend staring right at you, with the door opened. He was wearing a red button down shirt-with the first three buttons undone-with a black tie hanging loosely around his neck. He paired the shirt with black slacks. 

“Hi Akashi-kun.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused as to why you look like you saw a ghost. “Come on in,” he said, ushering you in. After taking your shoes off, he took your hand and led you towards the family room.

He used my last name....that’s really not a good sign. You sighed softly, unaware that the redhead heard you. 

The moment you reached the room, the both of you headed towards one of the couches. you noticed two empty glasses and a pitcher of water sitting on the coffee table. Akashi sat down, releasing your hand. “Please sit.”

Pressing your lips together you sat down next to him, placing your hands on your lap, not meeting his eyes. 

The silence between you two was tense and thick, making both of you uncomfortable.

“You look nice today.”

You raised an eyebrow at him; you were wearing black leggings, paired with a (F/C) Oversized hoodie with your university name on it. Your hair was in a messy bun and to add to your chaotic look, you were wearing two different colored socks. 

“I actually look like shit, but thanks I guess,” you shrugged. “You could’ve dressed more casual you know.” 

“I apologize, I came from a meeting,” he said taking off his tie and placing it on the table. “Would you like anything to eat? Or drink?” He asked as he started to pour water into one of the glasses

“Please,” you started, startling the redhead, “If you’re going to break up with me, just do it. Don’t prolong this because its not fai-”

“What are you talking about?” He cocked his head to the side with a look of confusion on his face as he placed the pitcher down. “Why would I breakup with you? What makes you say that?”

“W-Well, you called me by my last name, which you rarely do unless its something serious...and what can be more serious than a breakup?”

Akashi reached out and grabbed one of your hands, rubbing his thumb over it. “I’m sorry if it came across that way.” You looked up at him as he continued, “But this is a serious conversation that I want to have with you.”

“O-okay. What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he began, “You’ve opened up to me about your past, and I know a lot about you. And it doesn’t feel right that you know nothing about me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, “I do know stuff about yo-”

“I’m not talking about the basic parts. I’m referring to my past and...a part of me that I’m ashamed of.”

Sei-Chan.....is opening up? You looked at him and saw a mixture of fear and uncertainty in his eyes. “Go ahead,” you said, “I’m listening.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face you. “Alright.”

“As you know, my mother passed away when I was in my fifth year of elementary school from an illness. I wish you could’ve met her,” he said with a slight chuckle, “Since my father was strict with me, and wanting me to succeed in every area possible, my mother was the only one who supported me emotionally. She’s the one who got me into basketball.”

“She sounds like an amazing person, Seijuro.”

He nodded, “She was. She was the kindest woman, and strong willed since she dealt with my father. When she passed, my father became more strict and I was never truly happy. With her gone, my childhood was very limited. However, basketball made me feel closer to her. I was surprised when my father allowed me to play...as long as I won.

“When I attended Teiko, I was one of the few first years to ever be a part of the first string, and after a short time, I was promoted to captain; it was hard, but it was worth it. It was during my second year that the “Kiseki no Sedai” was formed, and it was during that time that the other members were advancing their skills and their egos except for me.”

Their skills? You asked yourself. If their skills were developed since middle school...what the hell were they like before?!

“One day, the team was starting to slowly fall apart; Aomine skipped practice, which then led to Murasakibara questioning why he couldn’t skip as well. This of course led to an argument which ended up turning into a one on one match between the two of us. Due to our height difference, he managed to push me back, and it was at that time that I realized I would lose. I never lose; I’ve never lost in my entire life. The Akashi family can never lose and I didn’t want to shame my family name.”

You saw Akashi fiddle with his hands; it was a rare sight to see him nervous and...unsure. He’s always so calm and collected...this was a first for you. 

“However, something happened that day and...I ended up winning. I obtained a new skill, the Emperor eye and that was when....I changed. I was more cold toward everyone; I was confident to the point I was rude, yet the team listened to me and respected me. It was during our third year that I emotionally hurt Kuroko. We were all at nationals and we faced his good friend. When Kuroko got injured, I prevented his friend from seeing him, guaranteeing our team's victory. I then advised the other miracles to not hold back. We ended up crushing the other team....and crushed the spirit of his friend. This resulted in Kuroko disappearing; he was hurt by us.” He paused, as his grip slightly tightened around your hand. 

You placed your hand on top of his and rubbed it with your thumb. “Take your time. I have nowhere to be.”

Taking a deep breath, Akashi continued, “At the end of the year, Kise, Aomine, Midorima, Murasakibara and myself all made an oath to face each other on the court, since we all ended up going to different schools.,” he saw you start to open your mouth but he cut you off, “Please let me finish. I want you to know everything before you question me.”

You nodded and he proceeded. “I was superior...I was better than everyone. When I entered Rakuzan, I quickly became captain, and just like during my third year of middle school, treated my teammates the same way; being arrogant and calling everyone by their first name without the proper suffix-even to my senpais. I was focused on having powerful teammates, winning at every cose, and not caring about training or hard work, which I always used to believe in. 

“When it came time for the Winter Cup, the six of us met up before the opening ceremony; however I wasn’t expecting Kagami Taiga being there. It was then, that I attacked him with scissors-”

“Okay, I’m sorry but how did you get scissors?”

“...They were Midorima’s lucky item of the day and I told him I needed to cut my hair, but that’s irrelevant. Please, just listen.”

“Sorry, proceed.”

“I gathered everyone there to make sure they remembered the oath we made. I hadn’t heard from Kuroko since middle school, but I knew he would follow the oath...and I was right. Kuroko ended up beating Murasakibara, Aomine and Kise; my team managed to take down Midorima. I told him that victory is everything and that I willingly wanted to be his enemy. I remember when he told me I still had not changed. What he didn’t know was that I had changed; my abilities had developed further.” 

Once again, Akashi paused, and you gave his hand a light squeeze. “Go on, Seijuro.”

“It was time for Kuroko and myself to face off.  It was going well, we were winning and Kuroko’s ability of misdirection was wearing off due to Mayuzumi-san being Rakuzan’s misdirection specialist...until he gained it back.  During the game, I started to get frustrated with my teammates and slowly started to lose faith in them; eventually I started to play by myself. This led me to obtain the ability to enter the Zone, where my abilities increased.

Unfortunately, like before, Kuroko and Seirin had the upper hand, and the same feeling I felt back at Teiko came back...I was mentally damaged by Seirin’s duo.They...broke my victory-sealing trump card; they defeated my ankle break move. I messed up the rhythm I had made for my team.  I remember what Mayuzumi-san said to me...”

~~Flashback~~~

“What a disgrace,” Mayuzumi said, looking at Akashi. 

The three Uncrowned Kings gasped in shock; never have they heard someone talk to their captain like that. 

“Did you think we’d comfort you or cheer you up? We’d never do something like that. You made all those pompous statements, but this is all you’ve got? I can’t believe that. You’re nothing like the guy I first met on the school roof. More like...

~~~~~~

“...who the hell are you. Those words struck a chord with me...I kept asking myself who I was. I had flashbacks of my mother...of my childhood. It was then that....I faced my other half; the true me. I realized that I enjoyed those days when I could play as much as I want to with my teammates...my friends. I wanted my inferior side...this side of me.. to stay locked away...But only seeking victory, abandoning everything else...I lost sight of why I wanted to stand strong. I couldn’t hold back the urge to win against Kuroko and Seirin...and I regained control. My team forgave me...and while we ended up losing, it was fun to play the sport again.” 

Mayuzumi-san.... You tried to remember who he was. You remembered your best friend forcing you to watch the game with them-even though you weren’t quite paying attention (you were just there to socialize). You knew who the other three members were...and you vaguely recall Akashi talking about him...Oh! He was the quiet one! 

“After hearing this, I will not blame you for leaving. Even if I’m no longer the other me, I still shouldn’t have the privilege of having you. You don’t deserve to have someone messed up like me” Akashi looked to you, indicating that he had finished. 

“So...let me get this straight,” you started, “Up until your third year of middle school, you were, who I will call “Boku-shi.....then you changed to this “Ore-shi” persona”

Bokushi? Oreshi?

“.....only to return to being ‘Boku-shi’ after losing against Kuroko?”

“I guess... yea,” he slightly stuttered. 

“So...you pretty much suffered from a form of Dissociative Identity Disorder,” you asked, getting a nod from the redhead. “And that is why you think I don’t deserve you?”

 He nodded once again, looking away from you this time. “You don’t think I’m crazy for having a conversation with my other persona?” 

You shook your head. “That persona of yours...it wasn’t your fault. It was due to the disorder. It is usually caused by any trauma during one’s early childhood; in your case, it was the emotional abuse from your father as well as the death of your mother-” 

“By then...I may have already started to be torn apart.”

“And when you add the stress from falling behind your friends and almost losing...you were torn apart even further.”   

“I had to stay the strongest so that I could continue to play with them, which is why my other half  was born” Akashi’s voice rose as he yanked his hand away from yours, clutching it into a fist. “I tried to keep them together by winning..those who were irreplaceable. That was the only way I knew how. That weakness was what created him! I was weak!”

You froze. You had never seen your boyfriend like this...vulnerable and open. His past really is haunting him. Now I see why he wanted to talk to me in person about this. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Sei-chan, please look at me?” 

Hearing you call him by his nickname, he looked up at you 

Your hand slipped from his shoulder, and you started to rub his back. “Thank you for opening up to me. I know this must have been hard for you. I appreciate you being vulnerable with me, but you have nothing to worry about; I’m not going anywhere.”

“W-what?” he jerked back, “But what I did...it was wrong and disrespectful-”

“And it was all in the past,” you cut him off. “Leave the past in the past. What’s done is done. Besides, you regained your friends after this ordeal right? You lead them to victory against those douchebags from America-”

“But he came back during that match,” he said, being the one to cut you off. “I willingly allowed him to return because we were going to lose. Everyone played hard, and I wasn’t going to let my fear hold us back.” He sighed and looked down again, “It didn’t really matter, my other half was no match against them.”

“...Then...how did you win?” You asked, “If you were too weak to deal with the loss, and your other half couldn’t do it...then how did you win?”

“...We merged. We worked together, and helped our team win.” he briefly paused, “But he’s still there and he could come back-”

“Akashi...your friends accepted you again right? After all the stuff that happened, they let you back in. Part of him will always be with you, yes-I’m pretty sure they all know that. However, you overcame him...your weakness....you did that by yourself...you controlled him. You might show some of his traits here or there....but there’s a good chance he won’t be coming back.” You scooted closer to him and kissed his cheek. “It’s going to take a lot to scare me off, Akashi Seijuro.”

Akashi couldn’t help the smile that came across his face; he placed a quick kiss on your lips and brought you into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered, smiling wider as he felt your arms hug him back. 

Breaking the hug, he looked you in the eyes. “How did you know what to say? How did you know what it was?”

“Sei-chan, I'm a psych major,” you chuckled, “I kinda have to know these things. Two different personalities is a sign of DID; however, usually people don’t remember what happened when they let their other personas take over...so yours is a unique case.” You took out your phone and began typing away. 

“....What are you doing?”

“Making a note to ask my professor if there’s a proper term for your condition. Don’t worry, I won't mention anything personal-just that you were able to remember what you did as your other persona took over.” 

“You better not mention my name, or else.”

“I won't, I promise.” 

“Tell me, why aren’t you surprised. Don’t tell me it’s because you’re a psych major-this is a serious condition. How does it not bother you.” 

You put your phone down and looked at him, “Because I suffer from mental illnesses too.” Akashi looked at you in surprise. “I suffer from Anxiety and depression. So no, mental illness don’t bother me.”

“So that means you-“

“No, I don’t self-harm,” you started cutting off Akashi’s thought. “Whenever I get depressed, I just get sad and quiet. I usually want to be alone...yet I also want comfort.” 

“I see. That’s good to know,” he smiled. “I’ll make sure to do just that.” 

 You smiled back at him. “But I’m curious...how did your teammates know when your persona took over?”

“...my eyes changed colors; one was gold and the other was red.”

You leaned closer to his face and smiled, “Well, whatever color your eyes are, I’ll still love them the same.”

He smiled and, cupping your face, brought you into a kiss.

~~~~~~

BONUS

“So Akashi finally told you, huh?” Kagami said, taking a bite out of his burger. 

You nodded, as Akashi took your hand and gave it a light squeeze. 

Earlier, Akashi was invited to a game with his old teammates and Kagami and he brought you along. You never got to see them play as a team-or half a team since it was 3 on 3- and you were in complete amazement; their teamwork was spot on and...you got to see the smile of your boyfriend, having fun. Now, the lot of you were sitting at Maji Burger, the boys catching up with each other.

“...And you’re still with him?”

The smile faded from Akashi’s face, only to be surprised when you flicked the salt container at Aomine, hitting his right in the middle of his forehead. 

“Of course I am,” you responded, ignoring the complaints coming from the blue haired male. “The past doesn’t define a person, it's the present that does. Sei is a good man with a good heart.”

“But...are you really prepared for his ‘mom mode’?” Aomine grinned, still rubbing his head. 

You looked at your boyfriend, “‘Mom mode’?” 

“Back at Teiko, I was considered the ‘team mom’ while Nijimura-senpai was the ‘team dad’.”

“Yup! Your boyfriend was a nagging mom!” Aomine laughed. “Kuroko, get up and go sit down. Midorima, you can’t have your lucky item on the court. Murasakibara, put down the bag of sweets. Kise, stop staring at your fangirls! He literally nagged everyone except me!”

“Not true, Aomine-kun. If anything, you were the one he nagged to the most.”

“W-what? Tetsu!”

“He’s right, nanodayo! ‘Aomine, you can’t leave practice.”

“Aomine, you can’t have your magazines on the bench.”

“Aomine-cchi, you’re at practice-get off the bench and get on the court.”

“Aomin-”

“Alright! I get it! Enough!!” he pouted, as the whole table bursted out laughing. 

The laughter died down and the group talked about memories from their middle school and high school years. 

You looked over at your boyfriend, and couldn’t help but smile; seeing him smile....seeing him genuinely happy...you were happy that he regained his friends trust...and you knew that If his other persona shows up...

“Akashi-chií! How could you say that?!”

“He’s not wrong though. You do need to settle down you know.”

“But shouldn’t he grow up some more first?” 

“Kuroko-cchi! Mean-ssu!”

...Akashi will still be accepted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And there you have it! I hope it was to your liking; i was up til 2 am this morning writing it. 

Until next time!

~Orca

[xuteline-blog]

I want you to love me now

read on ao3!

Word Count: 3,489

Pairing: Seonghwa/Hongjoong

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Feelings Realization, Past Relationship(s), Getting Back Together, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Chatting & Messaging, seonghwa jus wants to be held..., and thats exactly what hongjoong will do!!, Kissing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Not Beta Read

Description:

Seonghwa didn't know who he had expected to be there at Yunho's movie night marathon. All he was told by Yeosang was that he had invited a couple friends over. He had never thought he'd find himself reunited with the very person that taught him what love really was, and to have a chance at it again.

Seonghwa knew what love was. He knew about it before he was even in preschool.

His mother and father, holding hands as they stared into each other's eyes, whispering confessions before giving a peck on the lips to eachother, waving goodbye as one of them left.

His mother and fathers thumbs caressing eachothers hands, sitting on the couch as his fathers arms enveloped his mothers frame, both content, both warm.

His mother and father, in love.

He saw it every day. He knew what love was.

He was told in class once that being in love would be when hes most happiest. He was told in class once that being in love was what everyone wanted. He was told in class once that being in love felt like you were a firework, about to be ignited, and when you saw the person you loved, you would light up, and felt like as if your body was on fire.

He was told about it every day. He knew what love was.

It wasn't until Seonghwa reached his senior years in high school that he contemplated love. Looking back, he had never really felt what people told him love felt like. He had had his fair shares of relationships, and by the way he felt absolutely downtrodden after his breakup with a guy in his class two years ago, he really had thought he had been in love. But maybe... it was just infatuation? Maybe an oblivious case of puppy love.

He remembered the day clearly.

It was stormy, the rain pouring down as Seonghwa looked out the window of the library. He had came here to study, as his last exam was coming up and he couldnt afford to fail. His scholarship depended on it.

He sat alone at a table, the librarian allowing him to keep his hot chocolate as his books and papers laid in front of him, his small makeshift study desk unorganised and messy.

He watched as the rain droplets danced around each other, how they stepped close before stepping back before colliding together, catching eachother and finishing their dance at the bottom of the window pane.

What a weird metaphor, he thought. Rain droplets, two lovers dancing around each other and away, too scared to cross paths before giving their all to their other.

He had never felt such a way.

A hand slammed on his desk, tearing him away from his thoughts. He looked up at the culprit, his wide eyes furrowing as he took in who had scared him.

"Hongjoong," He stopped twirling his pen between his fingers, holding it steady as its tip nearly touched paper. "What do you need?"

"I just wanted to check on you!" Hongjoong smiled, and Seonghwa felt warmth blossom in his chest at the confession. Hongjoong grabbed a chair from the table infront of Seonghwa, turning it to sit at Seonghwas desk. "You've been hauling yourself up here a lot lately, I was worried if you were doing good," Seonghwa fought a smile as the shorter boy sat down, leaning onto Seonghwas table.

"I have been doing fine, just studying," Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows at the statement.

"But exams have finished?"

"Not this last one, its an exam to confirm whether or not I will be going to my desired University,"

"Oh? But i thought the scholarship covered that?"

"No, it was like a golden ticket. All expenses paid and a course set for me as long as I ace this exam,"

"What happens if you dont pass?"

"They take my scholarship and give it to someone else. They also refer me to other universities and colleges that would suit me if I so ask them too," Hongjoong looked down at the desk, eyes examining the strewn papers as he pouted. Seonghwa could fight the smile that ordained his face.

"Whens the exam?" Seonghwa grabbed one of his textbooks and his writing book, copying a few things down.

"On Friday," Hongjoongs eyes widened, his mouth agape.

"Thats only two days away! You better be studying!"

"You said you came up here because of how ive been," Seonghwa put down his pen, raising his hands to make air quotes. "'Hauling myself up here'"

Hongjoong banged the table, causing a semi loud bang to exho through the library. The librarian looked aorund the corner, pinpointing Hongjoong with her glare and shushing him. Hongjoongs cherks turned red as embarrassment took over him.

"I-I know i said that! I just— didn't you just have your last school exam yesterday, then? Have you been studying for this exam while stuudying for the schools ones, or just started now?" Seonghwa wtched as Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, a pout making its way back onto his face.

"I had been studying for this since Saturday, ap you do not need to worry. In fact, i think this may be my last long study session for a while. I'm pretty confident of where i stand right now," Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, a small smile forming.

"Thats nice to hear. Does that mean you could probably hang out with us tomorrow? We all miss you..." Hongjoong trailed off, having grabbed Seonghwas pen and spinning it on the table. Seonghwa felt more warmth course through his body at the statement. He missed them too.

"I will, do not fret. I've just been—"

"—We know you've been busy! You don't need to say it, we all have been busy!," Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong, the sudden outburst unexpected. "But... That was a yes?" Hongjoong sat up straighter, his eyes wide and sparkling. How cute.

...Cute?

"Yes, I will be there Joongie, don't worry," Hongjoong jumped up, startling Seonghwa. He grabbed Seonghwas hands and held the tight, smiling brightly.

"After school, meet up at the front gates, do not be a single minute late!" And as quickly as Hongjoong had showed up, he ran off, barreling through the library doors with a bang, the librarian looking at Seonghwa with a frown while the boy stared at his hands, caught off guard by what Hongjoong had done.

He traced his left hand with his right, and his right with his left, eyes wide as he felt the tingles in his hands slowly dissipate. He felt somewhat... giddy. A rush from when Hongjoong had touched him. Seonghwa felt heat rise on his cheeks.

And while his body was still riding the high of the moment, from when Hongjoong held his hands, to his bright smiles directed at him, he couldn't help but think 'Oh no'.

***************************

It was a stormy day, and Seonghwa was stuck in his dorm. His roommate had left earlier, telling Seonghwa that he was visiting his parents for the week. So here Seonghwa was, alone in his dorm, a storm playing out right in front of him, and his hands curled around a cup full of hot chocolate as he lived carelessly for the week off. What more could he ask for?

He sipped his hot beverage, humming in content as he swirled the hot chocolate in his mouth, savouring the taste.

As he reminisced in the moment, his phone chimed. Seonghwa turned his head towards his phone, glancing at the notification on the lock screen. He leant over, grabbing the phone and unlocking it. He clicked on the notification, which was a message, and read it.

hehet

would u be free rn?

Seonghwa stared at the message eyebrows furrowed before sighing and putting his hot chocolate down.

pluto

yes I would, why?

also, why pluto

hehet

cuz u aint real 😍😍😌

pluto

what

pluto is real sangie

its just not a planet

sangie.

hehet

omfg stop bullying me

hehet changed pluto's name to bully!

bully

youre insufferable

hehet

u love it

ok anyway what i actually came here for

so ur actually free to do anythin today??

bully

yes sangie, im free today

why, did something happen? do you need me to come over and hang out?

hehet

no no, dw

just needed to make sure so everything goes according to plan

ok so anyway

come meet us at yunhos dorm, were havin a mini movie party n meeting some of his friends!!

bully

oh?

what kind of movies? and what kind of friends?

hehet

idk but not horror thats all i know!! i remember yunho sayin he wanted to watch some disney or nostalgic films so theres that

also !! do not worry abt the friends!!

they r super kind n funny, youll love em :]

bully

youve already met them? thats kind rude :/

hehet

it was by accident :[[

i went over to yunhos to give him back a hoodie he left at our last study sess @ my dorm n i met em!!

it was only for a minute, i was rushin since i was late to class

bully

hmm... ok, ill accept it

what time will it be then?

hehet

at 4 and if yunhos roomate does end up coming home early from his mini trip, itll end at 10, but if not, we can stay the night

bully

not to be rude, but i really hope his roommate does not come back to the dorms until later tomorrow

hehet

same

knowing us, we'd just pass out on the couch anywaybully

ok u guys will, im responsible

hehet

sounds pretty fake ngl :///

bully

ok then, i shall go back to what i was doing before you messaged me

hehet

wait seonghwa i wanna keep talkin im bored :[[

seonghwa??

seongie??

ddeonghwa????

: [

***************************

It was an hour before Seonghwa had to leave. He had just gotten out of the shower, mostly wiped down, but his hair was still dripping.

He shook his head, feeling his hair stick to his face and water droplets fly everywhere. He brought up the towel to his head and vigorously dried his hair.

After drying himself down, he got dressed. Nothing extravagant or formal, but something comfortabe and simple. It was practically a sleep over he was invited to, after all.

It was now 15 minutes till Seonghwa would have to be at Yunho's. He know walking to Yunho's dorm would take at least 10 minutes, since it was not on the other side of campus, but a far bit away.

Seonghwa went through his mental checklist. Phone, check. Charger, check. Earphones, check. Small over the shoulder bag full of snacks, a pair of spare clothes, and an apparent rose flavoured lip balm, check.

At the thought of the lip balm, he licked his lips. His lips had been dry during the week from the cold weather, so he took up Yeosangs advice on picking up one or two lip balms. Of course, he bought the only ones that were supposedly to be what a flower would taste like. He picked up the lip balm, applying it to his lips and smacking them together before putting it back.

He checked the time.

12 minutes left.

He grabbed all his things, his keys jingling in his hands and a dmall umbrella in his pockets. He opened his dorm door, exiting and locking the door before finally leaving the dorm building. He grabbed his umbrella, opening it up once he stepped foot outside, wlaking along the footpath, frowning when he noticed the mud making its way across the path.

He sighed as the rain started to pour harder, his grip tightening on his umbrella.

He did not want to walk back to his dorm through this weather.

***************************

He made it to Yunho's dorm a bit later than he had expected. His shoes were caked in mud, and no, he did not slip in mud, he just wanted to be like Peppa Pig for a fleeting moment.

He knocked on Yunho's door, wiping his shoes off at the mat and taking them off. He shook his umbrella, the water flying everywhere. Maybe he should ahve done that outside, but it was too late now.

The door opened, revealing Yeosang who just pouted.

"You're late," Seonghwa pushed past Yeosang, dropping his umbrella near the door and placing his shoes near the rest. There's definitely a few new pairs there, either Yunho got more shoes, or his friends are already here.

"You try walking here in this weather," A few laughs were heard in the distance. Yep, definitely here.

Yeosang shook his head, closing and locking the door. He turned to Seonghwa, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards lounge.

"So, what's happened so far?"

"Nothing much! Just been playing some switch waiting for you," Yeosang stopped as they made it to the lounge. "Look who's here!" Seonghwa looked at the three men that were on the couch, all three watching the TV as they battled in MarioKart.

"Is it Seonghwa?" Yunho asked before he crossed the finish line, jumping up and laughing.

"I win!" The man sat on the right of Yunho crossed the line next, pointing to the man that sat on the left of Yunho, laughing.

"And you're last!" The man on the left sighed, corssing the line.

"Wow, that was so fun," Yunho laughed, the man that came second now standing up and turning around. Huh, almost as tall as Yunho.

"Let me introduce them to you, Hwa?" The man on the left, stood up, but still didnt turn around. Quite short, thats cute.

"This," Yunho gestured towards the taller man out of the two newcomers. "Is Mingi," The man now identified as Mingi waved his hand, a smile plastered on his face.

"And this," Yunho reached over to the smaller man, grabbibg his shoulder and forcefully turning him around. "Is—"

For a moment, the world stopped.

For a moment, their eyes met.

For a moment, they were seeing eachother again.

"—Hongjoong?" Seonghwa blurted out, cutting off Yunho. The shorter man, now known as Hongjoong, shared a similar expression to Seonghwa, yes wide and mouth agape.

Holding hands, watching as the sun set over the horizon, the light painting his face, his eyes sparkling.

"Seonghwa?" Yunho looked between the two, confusion plastered all over his face.

Bright smiles, warm laughs. Soft lips, peppered kisses.

"You two knew eachother?" Seonghwa nodded, at a loss for words as he stared at the boy infront of him.

"Thats so cool! It's like it's fate for you two to meet again," Yunho exclaimed. "But come on, we gotta get ready for our movie marathon, its half hour past the time we were supise to start!"

***************************

It was around midnight that Seonghwa finally couldnt take the awkwardness around him and Hongjoong. He got up from his spot on the floor, making his way to the kitchen and flicked on the light, going to grab a drink and a snack from his bag.

As he trifled through his bag, finding the pack of chips he craved for, he turned around and almost felt his soul leave his body.

There was Hongjoong, standing right in front of him.

He had to hold back a scream.

"Woah! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Hongjoong threw his hands up, taking a step back.

Seonghwa gained back his thoughts, the adrenaline dissipating.

"Do you need something?" He asked. He watched as Hongjoong suddenly became nervous, looking down at his feet. He has red hair... it looks... fluffy.

"I-I just... I kinda wanted to talk to you?" Seonghwa felt heat rise to his cheeks as he ran through the possibilities of just what Hongjoong would possibly say.

"About what?"

Silence overtook the two for a moment. Then Hongjoong spoke up.

"About... why you left," Seonghwa shifted his body, suddenly feeling so small. "Why you never contacted us," He felt shame slowly seep through his body. "Why you... never contacted... me," He looked down at his feet.

No one spoke for a minute, both thinking, both waiting.

"I never did get my scholarship..." Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, eyes wide.

"Wha—"

"I passed the exam for it, but by the time the people giving out the scholarship had marked it, all the scholarships had been given away,"

Seonghwa felt tears begin to pool in his eyes.

"I was so disappointed in myself, I didnt want you all to see me," He inhaled shaky breath, emotions coming back as he relived the moment in his mind. "So I just told you all that I got in and... left,"

He felt Hongjoong take his hands, caressing them softly. Like he used too.

"Why did you never talk to me after? You didnt even tell me you wanted to break up," Hongjoongs voice broke near the end. "You just went... radio silent," Seonghwa couldn't help the tear that ran down his face.

"I never wanted to break up," Seonghwa squeezed Hongjoongs hands. "I just— I wanted time, time to fix things, so i could say I was attending college, that I wasn't a fuck up..." He felt Hongjoong squeeze his hands back, he heard how the other boy sniffled. He must be crying too.

"Seonghwa, listen to me," Suddenly, Hongjoong was cupping his face, his hands so soft, and his eyes looking straight into Seonghwas soul. "You are not a fuck up, you hear me?"

"I'm sorry," His voice broke, tears now streaming down his face, one after the other. Hongjoong had tears slipping down his face himself. He lifted his thumb, wiping some tears off Seonghwas face.

"It's okay, I forgive you, HwaHwa," Seonghwa couldn't help but let a whine escape him at the nickname.

"HwaHwa! You're so cute!"

Hongjoong laughed wetly at the reaction.

"You'd think i forget what that nickname did to you," He stroked Seonghwas cheek lovingly, smiling fondly at Seonghwa, and Seonghwa couldnt help but feel his previous worries disappear just looking at him.

Seonghwa buried his face into Hongjoongs neck and threw his arms around Hongjoongs shoulders, letting another embarrassed whine escape him.

Hongjoong laughed at the action, snaking his arms around Seonghwas waist. They both stayed in that position for a few minutes, iust enjoying the company, the warmth. Enjoying eachother.

Hongjoong threw his arms over Seonghwas neck, pulling him down to give him a strong hug.

"Your hugs are the best, Joongie,"

Seonghwa felt Hongjoong shift, his hold on Seonghwa loosening. He felt a hand coursing through his hair, the action sending shivers down his spine, and a blush on his cheeks.

"I've missed this," Hongjoong whispered. Seonghwa picked his head back up, looking at Hongjoong.

"I did too," Hongjoong smiled.

Hongjoong raised his hand, putting it under Seonghwas chin and slowly pulling him down back towards him. Soon enough, their noses were touching, and they could feel eachothers breaths fan eachothers faces.

It took just a moment for Seonghwa to understand what Hongjoong wanted to do.

He looked to Hongjoongs eyes, noticing how they flickered back up to his then fown to his lips. Seonghwa did the same, his gaze lowering down to Hongjoongs own plush lips.

Seonghwa unconsciously licked his own.

"Can I..." Hongjoong trailed off, but Seonghwa knew what he was asking. He nodded his head, feeling Hongjoong pull him closer.

Then he felt Hongjoongs lips on his.

And suddenly, he felt like he was back in high school. When Hongjoong would sneak up on him in the bathrooms to give him a few wuick pecks on the lips before running away. When Hongjoonga arms would wrap around his his waist, pulling him into his lap, and even if Seonghwa was the taller one out of them, Hongjoong would always find a way to make Seonghwa feel small and safe in his arms.

He felt light again, like all his problems had been thrown away. He felt like the weight he carried had been lifted.

Seonghwa broke the kiss first, gasping for air, breathless. His lips a shade of bright pink

Hongjoong just stared at the boy, breath taken at the sight before him.

Hongjoong pulled Seonghwa back down again, both diving in for a kiss, each one more heated than the last.

Soon enough, both broke away, catching their breathe as they were pushed against eachother.

"I've wanted to do that for so long since then. I've missed it sso much," Hongjoong panted out.

"Me too," Seonghwa took a hold of Hongjoongs hands, looping his fingers between his own.

"This means that, you know," Hongjoong was anxious again, eyes flicking from Seonghwa to the floor. "That we'll do this again... right? That—"

"That we'll be back together?" Seonghwa cut in, heart beating fast at what Hongjoong was asking.

"Yes," Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, still nervous on what the answer would be.

And Seonghwa couldn't have answered more perfectly.

"Of course," Seonghwa dived back in for another kiss, this one not heated, but filled with something more deeper. He broke the kiss, burying his face in Hongjoongs neck. "Of course,"

"I love you," Seonghwa felt his heart stutter.

"I love you too," Hongjoong smiled, pulling Seonghwa towards him.

"Forever," Hongjoong whispered.

"Always," Seonghwa whispered back.

#park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #ateez #kang yeosang #jung yunho #song mingi #ateez fic #idk how to tag to get this to spread around on tumblr skdkdjs #uuh grammar mistakes will be visible #ok thats all #follow me on twit @xuteline #i want moots #or jus talkin here is good :]

[rogerina-yee-haw]

“at least I’m one”

chapter 3: “- the broken rules and true affection”

sd!gwilym lee x reader

[the goodbye] [the sadness & tenderness]

summary: you and gwil met ten months ago; and he offered you to be his sugar baby almost immediately. you agreed at that exact moment, not knowing where it would get you.

warnings: badly written smut (again) sorry y’all; angst, fluff, cursing, cringy behavior, author’s spelling and grammar errors, typos

a/n: hey y’all ily!!! thanks for waiting!! i love you all!! I’m sorry it took me so long!! I’m dying at uni!! 

also, I wanted to thank you for 350+ followers like??? how did it happen?? I don’t deserve all of your pretty souls?? but seriously, you all are amazing and wonderful, and I hope you have a beautiful day <3

I :) hope :) this :) chapter :) isn’t :) a :) complete :) piece :) of :) garbage :) (it is imao sorry)

P.S.

there are three chapters left. 

As you follow your parents through the long and silent corridors of the hospital, you can surely say that you feel much better.

Becca gave birth to a beautiful baby boy; and you have never seen her happier. She and Jackson looked so felicitous with their newborn in Becca’s arms, that you couldn’t but shed a tear. For the first time during this day it wasn’t a sad cry; you were really happy.

Your sister needed rest after the tough night of labor; so you and your parents decided it would be better for you to leave. And now you are going home, back to your apartment, April and sorrows.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” your mum lightly touches your hand; you give her a fake smile in response. You can’t tell her the truth; and was there ever even a slight bit of truth about you and Gwil? Everything your parents know about this relationship is built on lies. You can’t tell her that you fell in love with your sugar daddy but he proposed to another sugar baby, and that’s why you’re heartbroken. You simply can’t.

“Just tired”, you smile weakly. “Can’t even imagine how Becca’s still able to talk and, y’know; behave as a normal human being after having such an experience”. Your mum lets out a laugh.

“Becca is strong. And she likes being the center of attention, so her desire to talk is quite understandable”.

“Put it this way, love”, your father joins the conversation, “Becca just wants everyone to praise her. That’s her character”.

“She deserves that praise”, you say.

Your father smiles. “Of course she does. She’s a hero”.

When your parents offer to give you a ride, you refuse, saying Janet is supposed to pick you up; you lie, once again. You’re not ashamed of yourself – you wouldn’t survive if you never lied. That’s just another deception. Just another delusion for your parents and you to believe in.

No one’s here to pick you up. Janet is probably having fun at that party, Billy’s sleeping, and Gwil… You sigh deeply. You just can’t continue doing it to yourself anymore. One more thought about Gwilym, one more memory – and you’re sure you’ll jump off of some building. You won’t make it through the night if you continue thinking about him.

He’s gone. He’s engaged to Alice. He’s not yours. He has never been yours. That’s all that you have to know for moving on.  But you simply don’t know how; Gwil has been a part of your life for ten months, you can’t just move on. That’s not possible.

When you get into the cab, you’re on the verge of crying again; all the bliss, given by Becca’s baby boy, is gone. You look through the car window – the streets of London are full of people on this Friday night. All of them are having fun, laughing and just enjoying themselves; and even if they have some troubles in their life, they simply forget about them while drinking tons of alcohol. If you do the same thing, you’d end up on Gwilym’s doorstep. You know that for sure.

Almost twenty minutes later you come back home; it’s silent there, as usual. You don’t even turn the lights on – you don’t want to see what kind of mess your flat is now. “Probably as messy as I am”, you think when you sit down on the couch.

On the floor, right in front of you, there is a bag. The bag. You take a deep breath before reaching your hand to it; you have to look through the stuff you took from Gwil’s apartment. You had to do that to cope with your feelings, to try to move on. You can’t let yourself drown in your sorrows, not being able to throw away everything related to him. You need to get rid of the memories. You have to do that just in case. Just to realize if the pain is still that strong.

The red flannel shirt is the first thing that you put out of the bag.

And you can’t even comprehend how much pain it causes you. It makes your chest ache, and you feel like your heart is going to explode.

And there you have enough of your weak attempts in moving on.

You burst into tears, squeezing the shirt in your hands; it still smells like him. Because it’s his, it’s his shirt. The one he says he hates so much, that he didn’t even protest when you borrowed it. The memories of this day are still fresh, and you let yourself drown in them, you give in. You can’t fight, you’re not that powerful. You can’t move on, you’re not that strong to do this. You want to drown in your sorrows, because it’s the only way to be with him now.

Still crying, you put the shirt over your shoulders. “Looks good on you”, Gwil used to say when you wore it. “It was a lie”, you whisper while curling up on the couch; you keep sobbing and wrapping the shirt around yourself. “Another lie to play with me”, you say under your breath, tears still streaming down your cheeks when you doze off. Your sleep isn’t peaceful; you dream about Gwilym, again and again.

                                            ╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

                                                     September.

“So you agree?”

You looked into the contract one more time; you furrowed your brows just to seem focused. To be honest, you’ve lost the ability to concentrate the moment you saw Gwil inside of the restaurant. He looked like the fucking Adonis in his dark-grey three-piece suit, and you couldn’t get the image of him roughly lifting you up from your seat and fucking you right on this table till you see the stars. You kept reminding yourself that it wasn’t right, that you just met him seven hours ago. You had no idea who he was until he approached you in that posh shop.

At one point you started doubting whether you needed that or not; but then you realized one simple thing. This beautiful, heavenly looking man was offering you the life you could never afford. Alright, maybe if you worked yourself to death – maybe then you could afford buying expensive clothes and jewelry. Also being alone for a year and a half had its own influence – and by that you certainly meant a badly hidden desire to have sex with Gwilym right there and then.

You sighed deeply, as you looked through the rules. They weren’t bad; as they weren’t, by no means, crossing any lines in any way. They were normal. They were adequate. You couldn’t ask for more. That was your chance to get free cash and hook up with a pretty dude. You couldn’t miss such an opportunity.

“I do”.

                                           ╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №7. no contact with each other’s families and friends.

                                                        March.

“Someone get this goddamn door!”

Your mother’s scream was able to bring dead back to life; but now it only made you realize that you might lose your hearing, if she shouted like that one more time.

“Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?” Billy seemed to notice the way you winced when you heard your mother’s loud voice; and that’s why he decided to proclaim the song’s lyrics right into your ear. It made you growl, and you turned around to hit him on the shoulder.

“Idiot!” you said. “Go get the door”.

“I’m too busy to do that”.

You raised your eyebrows at him in disbelief; Billy was just messing around while his mother and you were helping your mum with preparing food and guests. Your dad and Becca with Jackson were of great help, too; everyone was doing something except for this dumbass. He grinned widely, seeing your frustration. “Besides, t’s not my house. I’m not allowed to open doors and, y’know, behave wildly”.

“Swift, for fuck’s sake, you’ve spent more time in this house than anywhere else”, you sighed. “And you certainly opened the doors for, like, million times”.

“But-“

“Billy!” his mother stormed into the kitchen “Stop wandering around and go get the door!” she took the bowl with fruits into her hands. “Or I’ll make you chat with Zelda!” she added before heading to the dining room. Billy’s eyes widened and he seemed to start trembling the second he heard your aunt’s name; so he left the kitchen immediately. You chuckled; this day was already a piece of work. Every time such a big family gathering happened, you knew that something would eventually be fucked up. Today was no exception, as it was your mother’s fiftieth birthday.

She wanted to have both her sisters, three best friends with their children and, of course, her own family present at such an important event. Three best friends included Mrs. Swift with her dumbass of a son Billy, Mrs. Johnson, and Mrs. Raymonds with her daughter Alexis and son James. 

James had been a pain in your ass today since the moment he entered the house. You expected to successfully avoid talking to him, but it seemed as if he wanted to speak to you more than anything. You couldn’t really understand why. You hadn’t communicated properly for four years, right since your breakup, and you didn’t really want to; firstly, because before you were too invested in your relationship and split with Luke, and now because of Gwilym.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. How you wished to have Gwil here now; you knew that with him everything would be so much better. And, moreover, if Gwil was here, James wouldn’t be bothering you. You couldn’t tell him to fuck off; you were too nice for that. Besides, you didn’t want to ruin the “normal” relationship that you two had – if it was possible to call it like that. 

He was not only your childhood friend, but your ex, your first kiss, your first sex and your first heartbreak. Every “first” that happened to you was connected to James; and no matter how much thankful you were to him for giving you a necessary experience, you couldn’t but regret your decision to date your mum’s best friend’s son at the age of fourteen. If you never saw him again, everything would be so much easier. All just because he was awfully clingy and tedious; it seemed as if he had never grown up and was still stuck in high school. And he was an idiot in high school.

“You need help?” As your back was facing the kitchen’s entrance, you couldn’t miss the opportunity to roll your eyes when you heard James’s voice. It took you everything not to tell him to fuck off, as you put a fake smile on your face and turned around to see him standing near the fridge. A couple of steps more – and he would be right in front of you. Disgusting.”No; but thank you for the offer, James”.

“Oh, Y/N”, he smiled and moved a bit forward; your fists tightened and you clenched your jaw, still smiling. “You’re always welcome”.

Please, dear God. Save me from this monstrosity.

Billy was humming the song about the poor groom and his whore-bride as he approached the door; he was happy enough to avoid talking to aunt Zelda for a while. She was the most annoying person he had ever met, and she also hated him to death; so opening the door was quite a good opportunity.

A tall dude in a suit with bouquet of flowers on Y/L/N’s house’s doorstep surprised Billy; as he was 5’6” himself, everyone taller than that seemed like a giant to him. And this really handsome pal was certainly intimidating. “You alright, mate?” Billy examined him from heat to foot; the suit was totally expensive and the man himself looked like a fucking duke.

“Is Y/N here?” his voice was deep and a bit husky; Billy furrowed his brows – he had no idea you were aquianted with someone from the Royal Family.

“Y/N!” he screamed. “That’s for you!”

When James was almost standing near you, Billy’s voice saved your day. “Thank God!” you shouted in response and flew out of the kitchen; no matter who was there, you were happy enough it happened. You saw Billy standing in front of the open door; leaning to the doorway, that was leading from the hall to the living room, you let out a sigh of relief. You didn’t even see who was at the door; and at the moment you didn’t care, as you stood there, panting, with your eyes closed.

“Fucking James”, you breathed. “I hate this fucking wanker so much, you don’t even know, Billy”.

“Oh no, I do, trust me, Y/L/N. ‘Cause I hate him more”.

“If I hear his fucking voice one more time, I swear-“

“Who’s James?”

You couldn’t believe it; did the voice that you heard belong to Gwilym? Your eyes went round; and when you finally saw him, standing on your parents’ house’s doorstep, your eyes lit up and your mouth curved into a smile. He was there.

“Gwil”, you mouthed. He beamed, and his whole face lit up when he saw you. Or maybe it just seemed to you that it did.

“Y/N”, he said, “hey”.

“I’m Billy!” he chimed in, resting his chin on your shoulder; your smile faded as your rolled your eyes at him.

“Swift, go to the kitchen and help our mums”, you said quickly. He huffed.

“And talk to Raymonds? No, thank you.”

As you kept maintaining eye contact with Gwil, you couldn’t but close your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Billy”, you said through gritted teeth, “go and help our mums”.

“Y/L/N-“

“Billy!” you turned around; if it was possible to burn someone down with just one simple gaze, Billy would have been dead already. “Go and do it, while I’m asking you nicely!” you pinched his shoulder so strongly, that he jumped and let out a squeak.

“Alright!” he raised his hands. “I’ll do anything if you stop hitting and pinching me. Bloody woman”, he mumbled, while leaving.

“Sorry about him”, you looked back at Gwil; he was still smiling at you. “He’s just twelve, really”. 

“Is that your best friend you told me about?”

“Yeah”. Only then you noticed he was holding a bouquet of lilies.

“That’s my mum’s favourite flowers”, you said quietly. “How’d you know?”

His gaze was fixed on your face; and you couldn’t but look away because you felt extremely flustered.

“You said it once. I remembered”.

You melted like an ice-cream under the scorching sun. He remembered that? It took your father twenty-seven years of marriage to memorize his wife’s favorite flowers, and here was Gwil – remembering about it for some time. You didn’t even know how to react.

But then you realized one thing. He was not supposed to be here. He was your sugar daddy; and one of the rules was not to have any contact with each other’s families of friends. What exactly was he doing here?

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “You said you gonna have a business trip”.

He smiled. “I deferred it to the next weekend. Couldn’t leave my girl alone with her, as she says that, crazy family”.

My girl. Of course, you heard him say that million times; but something was different now, you could feel it in your bones.

You smiled like an idiot, while he was taking off his coat; he beamed at you back, and there you were – two grinning idiots, who stood in your parents’ house’s hallway. That was so much you wanted to tell him; how thankful you were that he came, but mostly you wanted to kiss him softly and whisper “I love you” in between kisses.

“You’re gonna regret it”, you say instead. “They’re embarrassing”.

He chuckled and took your hand; Gwil pressed a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “I will never regret a minute spent with you. Even if your family is embarrassing”. He pulled you closer, and you were perfectly safe and sound in his arms. The flowers, lying on the little sofa in the hallway, were long forgotten, as well as guests, food and the world. Gwil was warm and lovely, and you closed your eyes, resting your head in the crook of his neck. You would stay like this forever. You didn’t need anything, anyone else, but him, just him, only him. You had no idea why he was there, when he could be somewhere else, with another sugar baby, having sex and buying jewelry. But he was there, with you.

“You are stunning”, he whispered in your ear. “Red looks good on you”. You let out a chuckle against his neck. God, that was so silly.

“You bought me this dress, after all”, you answered quietly. Gwil hummed in response and kissed your hair; you pulled away from his neck, catching him staring at you in awe. You lost yourself in his blue eyes, lost yourself forever in his mesmeric gaze. Was this love? For you, yeah. For you, it was everything you ever wanted – it seemed that Gwilym walked into your life in that dark-blue suit at the end of the September right from your dreams. You didn’t even know when exactly you fell in love with him – but you knew it was more than just a simple arrangement now. At least for you.

“It’s not the point, baby”, his fingers traced different shapes on your back and Gwil could certainly feel you shivering under the dress. “You look good in everything”. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled. It was perfect.

“You must be the mysterious guy Y/N always talks about!” You let out a squeak and jumped back from Gwilym in an instant; your sister was leaning onto the doorframe and grinning impishly. You pressed a hand to your chest and cursed under your breath. “I’m Becca, her elder sister”, her and Gwil shook hands and you couldn’t but roll your eyes; Becca was up to something. You didn’t like the thought of it; any idea of your sister always turned out to be a disaster.

You all walked in the dining-room; and the whole place went from a loud chat to complete silence. Aunt Zelda, as you noticed, was examining Gwil thoroughly. You furrowed your brows and rolled your eyes; your aunt was evidently interested in a good-looking man who just walked in with you. You let out an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes once again, this time thinking that they may just stay inside of your head if you do that one more time. You saw Billy barely holding back his hysterical laugh, when you sat down at the table; you stopped yourself from slapping your forehead and throwing something at Swift. Your attention was drawn to Becca and Jackson as they were having whispered conversation, while looking at you and Gwil. James looked confused, when you gave him a brief look; his opinion was the last one you were interested in. You were so invested in observing everyone’s reaction that you missed the main one – your mum’s.

“….boyfriend?”

You frowned hearing the scraps of the conversation; you turned your head and caught your mum and dad talking to Gwilym. You looked at them, being disoriented, as you heard him saying that. “Yes, I am. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend”.

You tilted your head, still furrowing your brows. Boyfriend?

“I’m Y/N’s boyfriend”, for fuck’s sake, what?

“Holy shit”, you almost mumbled, still staying bewildered; he didn’t just say what he said, did he?

Boyfriend? No. He was not your boyfriend. He was the exact opposite. He bought you expensive shit and fucked you into oblivion. He was your sugar daddy. He was providing you with money and taking you to luxurious resorts to spend the weekend there. He made an arrangement, came up with rules for both of you to follow. He had other women as his sugar babies, whom he fucked too. He was a boss in the huge ass company. He was a literal Disney Prince. He was this, and not your boyfriend.

But he took care of you when you were terribly sick after your romantic getaway in Aspen. He held you tightly when you were crying. He cuddled you until you fell asleep in his arms, both of you beaming. He praised every part of your body. He wrote you cute letters every day, saying how much he adored you. He told you he was proud of you when you got a promotion. He made you a bubble bath with candles lit around and sweet music playing on the background. He did facemasks with you while watching your favorite shows. He told you he didn’t want to let you go. He made you feel valued and protected, for the first time after two failed relationships. He made you feel as if it wasn’t just an arrangement. He made you feel like he loved you.

Your heart skipped a beat at this thought. Loved you? No, that was ridiculous. Gwilym couldn’t love you; he could love Alice, a small pretty thing with her piercing gaze and gracious movements; or his other sugar baby, Zoe, with her husky voice and plump lips. He could love someone much more skinnier than you, someone not that tall, and someone not that awkward. He was way out of your league; and still, somehow, he was there, at your family’s gathering, talking to your relatives and resting his hand on your thigh.  He was there, with you, not anywhere else. He was there. 

You exchanged glances, smiled at each other; throughout the whole evening he never stopped whispering into your ear about how beautifully you looked. He held your hand and kissed it, when there was an opportunity. Gwil was talking to your dad about science and business, like your father had a clue about any of those things; he even chatted with Billy for a moment, which made you smile lightly. It seemed to you that every time he looked at you, his eyes lit up.  And for a moment you knew - he was yours. Only yours.

                                          ╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №2. accept every gift that is given.

                                                     February.

It was so good.

The sound of Gwil’s skin clapping against yours, the way he gripped your hips and sucked on the skin in the crook of your neck made you arch your back, your breasts pressing into his chest. He growled, and it sent shivers down your spine. His thrusts were now faster, as he was as close as you.

“You like it like that, right, baby?”

You were clinging onto him as if it was the matter of life and death; and it was, indeed. He was giving you what you needed. Finally. “Yes, daddy”, you mouthed. “I’m so close”, you were breathing hard and saying these words wasn’t very easy as well; but it was what he wanted – you spoke. Gwil thrusted into you harshly, burying himself inside of you so deeply that you could only scream his name in pleasure. It seemed that you both had forgotten about the little game you played. You were more than happy to realize that; even though you were terribly wrong about Gwilym.

He started moving slower in you and then pulled out; your eyes were wide open the second he did that. What the actual fuck?

You rose on your elbows; your brows drew together as you watched this asshole slyly grin. “You said…” you were panting. “You said…you…”

“That I’ll let you cum in the bedroom?” he replied. “That’s true”, he shrugged his shoulders. “But you didn’t catch one little thing, love”, Gwil was hovering over you again. “By that I meant master bedroom. And this”, he pressed a kiss on your lips, “This is certainly not the master bedroom”.

You looked at him with wide eyes and sighed loudly. In a master bedroom? “There are seven bedrooms in this house”, you mumbled, when you head fell back onto the pillows. He was kidding, right? He didn’t let you cum neither in the kitchen nor in the living room, and promised you’d come in the bedroom – but now, turned out that he was just messing with you? You covered your eyes with your hand and sighed deeply. This was going to be a long ride; and with Gwil’s desire to edge you until you were begging and telling him exactly what he wanted – you knew you would be exhausted as fuck.

“This can end very quickly, y’know it, love”, he hovered over you, you could feel it; your eyes were still closed and jaw clenched tightly. You didn���t want to give in. You didn’t start playing this game just to let him win in the end.

It wasn’t exactly a game, though. You were just rejecting his gift, and that’s all. The only thing was that not accepting the present was another violation of rules. And, also, that his gift was a fucking three-storied house. A freaking mansion with a huge garage, a back garden, and, like, fifty rooms. He just said, “It’s a simple gift, love”, and you jaw fell open at his words. Simple fucking gift; the one you never asked for. That was too much. Money, Cartier bracelets, diamond necklaces and designer clothes were great and amazing, but the house? You knew Gwil couldn’t get enough of spoiling, but he crossed the line here, even for a sugar daddy. Even for this type of relationship buying a house was too much.

But he, apparently, didn’t think so. He kept on insisting it didn’t mean anything, that he didn’t even spend that much money on it. Your blood was boiling, and you could feel your ass burning with anger. 

Now your ass was burning too, but because of how much Gwil was spanking you. You were ready to come undone just cause of it, but this asshole didn’t let you. He wouldn’t let you come until you accepted the gift. And even though you really liked the house, you couldn’t just agree on his terms and take it. No. It was too much. Even for such a rich dude like Gwil.

“I just have to accept your gift and shut up, right?” you said through gritted teeth. Gwil furrowed his brows, and took your hand from your face. Your eyes were open as you were looking at him irritably.

“I never told you to shut up”, his tone was serious as he was staring you in the eyes. “And it’s not what I meant. You know that”. He sounded offended; you suddenly felt guilty about your behavior. You were acting like a bitch the second you saw the house, and said some stupid shit, like “I hate this fucking house". He shouldn’t have bought it, but you shouldn’t be a brat about it either. He did  it not 'cause he wanted to buy you, no; he did it because that’s how he showed his affection. And it was part of your arrangement, part of then rules after all; he always sticked to them, unlike you.

“I do”, you cupped his face in your hands, looking at him softly. “I know that you don’t mean anything like that”, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. He kissed you back eagerly, putting his hands on your waist and pulling himself lower, closer to you. You both were naked, aroused and hungry for each other. You pulled away trying to catch your breath. “But I still can’t accept this gift, Gwil”.

Gwilym let out a loud groan as he rolled over to another side of the bed. “Why’s that, Y/N?” he tried to sound neutrally but you could feel irritation coming out of his whole body.

“Baby, I told you already”, you sighed tiredly. “The house’s too big, too expensive. I can’t accept it”.

“It’s a gift, love”, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to think about its price”.

You rolled over to face him, but he wasn’t looking at you; he lied on his back, breathing heavily with eyes closed. Too annoyed to even speak to you. And even though he wouldn’t speak to you through his mouth, you knew through what he would certainly answer you. If he said “no” to it, you would never insist on keep going. You were both keeping each other comfortable, always.

He was still rock hard and you had to restrain yourself from moaning. He might have been a huge ass with the whole edging thing today, but you wanted him like crazy, always and constantly.

 He let out a groan when you straddled him. You tried your best to keep a straight face, but you were so fucking wet that no facial expression could save you.Gwil felt that; thinking that you were insisting on continuation of the sex, he put his hands on your hips, trying to make you move; but you had other plans for him. You took his hands off of you and put them on his sides. “What will people say when they learn I’m living in such a big house?” you traced circles on his chest with your fingers; he drew in a long breath, gripping the sheets. “No one would believe I’m able to even rent it. I’m not really rich, baby”, you kept maintaining eye-contact; him inside of you and neither of you moving.

“Fuck them”, he whispered. He made you feel like a goddess just by looking at you that lovingly and hungrily. You moaned at the thought, and Gwil took this chance to putting his hands on your hips again. You raised an eyebrow and brushed his hands off. He didn’t let you cum. Now you were going to torture him for a little bit as well.

“No touching, Gwil. You can’t do that unless I say so”.

He licked his lips and grinned, surprised by your sudden dominance. He liked seeing you like this: confident and naked. Gwil’s favorite moods of yours.

“Shit, Y/N”, he grunted. “You feel amazing. So tight and beautiful”.

You gasped; Gwil was well aware of the effect his words had upon you, and he smiled, no, he fucking grinned, looking at you, almost twirling in ecstasy already.

The smug look on his face vanished when you started rocking your hips against him. Moving up and down his cock, you moaned and clung on his chest with your nails. He hissed, gripped the sheets tightly but never touched you. You rode him fast and needy, trying to reach your climax sooner than he noticed. “Feels so good”, you whined. Sweaty, greedy, whimpering, with head tilted back and nails digging in his chest – just the sight of you like this could make Gwil lose control. He wanted to thrust into you harshly, touch you everywhere, run his fingers through your hear and caress your face as you rode you both to orgasm – but he followed your rules. Not only 'cause he liked that, but also because he wanted to show you that obedience wasn’t too bad. Although he would certainly disagree with it right now, when he couldn’t even kiss you. “Touch me”, you breathed, needing his hands on you. God, you needed him in so many ways.

“Finally”.

He squeezed your breasts immediately; you moaning echoed in the room, making him even more turned on than he already was. Your walls clenched against him, and no matter how much he wanted to continue your little game, he wanted to fuck you properly more. He wanted to hear you screaming, wanted to see your face when you cum. God, he wanted all of you just to him.

You felt your orgasm coming in any moment, and you bit your lip to hold back moans, so that Gwil wouldn’t stop. But he didn’t even intend to. Not this time. “Come on, baby”, he whispered, caressing your sides, “come for me”.

Gwilym’s words made you lose it, lose all the power you thought you had. You fell onto him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, as he was fucking you now, hitting that exact spot inside you that drove you crazy. “Gwil”, you panted against his neck; and  your hot breath sending shivers down his spine and making him thrust into you harder. “I’m gonna cum”, you said in an unsteady voice, while gripping his shoulders and digging your nails in there.

“Let go, baby”.

He let out a pure animalistic growl and suddenly flipped you over, so you were underneath him. He attacked your lips with his, giving you the most heated and loving kiss in your life. You wrapped your legs around his waist so that he could have a batter access to hit your g-spot; with your hands on his neck, you didn’t let him to break the kiss, deepening it, trying to fight for dominance. But dominance was his thing in bedroom.

He buried himself so deep inside of you that you two could only moan into each other’s mouths; you both reached your highs together, skin to skin, in unison, screaming one another’s names and grabbing the sheets. You both needed that.

Some minutes later, when you came down from your high Gwil left a delicate kiss on your forehead and got up; throwing the used condom into the trash, he turned around and saw you lying down with your hand covering your face. The blissful smile on your face and steady breathing told him that you were ready to nod off.

“Falling asleep on me, aren’t ya?” he lied down next to you; Gwil took your hand and pressed a kiss to it.

You took a deep breath. “Just give me a couple of minutes”, your reply was weak; Gwilym chuckled and smacked your ass playfully. You giggled and turned your face to him; you struggled to even open your eyes.

“Let’s get some sleep, love”, Gwil said quietly. He adjusted your pillows and put a blanket over the two of you; after he pulled your closer, your back on his chest, and his arms wrapped around you. He kissed you hair and you smiled sleepily.

“I still can’t accept your gift”, you continued your almost long-forgotten argument. Gwilym took in a deep breath and buried his face in your hair.

“I can’t argue with you anymore”, he mumbled, “I’ll accept any decision you make, Y/N”.

“Thank you”, you whispered. “But I love this house”, he chuckled at your words.

“I know. I did everything here like you love it. Just for you”.

You smiled lightly and hummed in response. “Wake me up in ten minutes”, you said leaning in closer to him. “I’ll be ready to continue till we get to the master bedroom”. Gwilym pressed a warm kiss to your shoulder.

“This is the master bedroom now”.

As you nodded off, feeling warm and safe in Gwil’s arms, you were beaming; when your mind was drowning in drowsiness, you felt a warm breath on your neck and heard Gwilym’s voice saying softly, “I love you so much, Y/N”. But you knew it was just a dream. Reality couldn’t give you something like this. Never.

                                         ╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №6. no contact with other sugar babies.

                                                December.

“When you’re gonna be home?”

You locked your phone after texting Gwil; you didn’t want to bother him, but it was Christmas Eve and you weren’t amused by spending it alone in his empty penthouse. He was called for work, and promised you to come back in three hours. The clock struck five in the evening. Gwil left at ten A.M.

You sighed deeply as you looked at the served table. You wanted to surprise him by cooking a festive dinner; it wasn’t like you were a chef, on the contrary – you couldn’t cook for shit. But, as you planned this thing, you googled some recipes and tried to cook something simple, but yet delicious. You had strange desire to be domestic with Gwilym – to cook food, do laundry, clean the house, and take kids from school… You didn’t even know when you first started imagining you two living a happy, suburban life in a pretty house with three children. Before Gwil you didn’t want kids. Now you were questioning all of your life choices. You were never able to have hook ups and not catch feelings. And this was certainly just a “hook up”, as you thought in the beggining. Only now it was much more.

“Soon, baby. I promise”.

His text gave you hope; his “soon” could be in ten minutes. You looked over the table in panic, quickly lighting candles. You ran to the nearest room; looking yourself up and down in the mirror, you twisted a ring on your index finger nervously. This green dress was exactly what Gwilym liked: it was tight, giving a perfect opportunity to observe all of your curves, and also very short. The color wasn’t exactly in the style of Christmas, but red lace lingerie underneath the dress was quite in the mood of the holiday. You knew Gwil would have gone crazy the second he came back home. He gave you  so much during those months and you just wanted to get him a pleasant reward; and you were also head over heels for him. That was pretty simple.

Suddenly you heard heels clattering on the marble floor of the living room; you frowned, trying to understand who was there. Was Gwil wearing heels? You wouldn’t be surprised at that. Or was it Gwil’s sister again? Not that you didn’t like her, you just wanted him all to yourself tonight; even though you weren’t against spending time with his family.

“Heather?” you called while heading back to the living-room.

It wasn’t Heather.

It was a girl in a coat and high-heeled ankle boots; her eyes were gleaming in the dark as she was reading the note she took from Gwil’s plate.

“Unwrap your gift”, she said; she raised her head and looked at you haughtily. “Who are you?”

“And you?” you asked in confusion. “How did you come in?”

“The door’s was open”.

“No, it was not”.

You stared at each other, trying to burn yourselves with your glares; you had a strong feeling that it was one of Gwilym’s other two sugar babies.

“I assume you’re Y/N”, she sat down at the table, at Gwil’s place. “You got a nice dinner here”.

“Thanks”, you squeaked. You already felt helpless and hopeless in front of her; she was this black-haired goddess with a sly grin on her face. She was confident. You weren’t like that. “That’s actually…” you were speaking quietly. “That’s for Gwil”.

She huffed. “Of course, it is. I’m Alice, if you don’t know that”, it felt like you were supposed to know her name and whom  she was. It seemed like she was the one who was supposed to be there. You suddenly felt really uncomfortable in her presence; her whole behavior was telling you to get out.

And here you were again. Feeling unnecessary, needless, unwanted.

“I’ve been with Gwil since I was twenty-three, like you are now”, she took a sip from the glass with champagne. “We’re having three-year anniversary this year”, she said with a smug smile.

“You sound like you’re dating”.

“We do”.

“No”.

The sound of his voice was something you craved for. It was like oxygen in the room with no windows and doors. It was like a light in the darkness.

“Daddy!” Alice jumped from her seat and beamed. Oh god, you already wanted to leave. She was looking at him so hungrily that you didn’t even know what you were doing there. You were an extra one. Unwanted. “You’re back! Y/N was just leaving”, she glared at you and raised her eyebrows, giving you a silent order. And you, with your zero self-esteem and very high level of shyness, obeyed.

“I’ve gotta go”, you muttered, heading to the door. Gwil, who stood not so far from you, immediately reached out and grabbed you by the wrist.

“Y/N, no. Please. Don’t go. Please”. He begged you to stay. Gwilym wanted you there, with him. You. Not Alice. The realization of it hit you suddenly, as you looked in his eyes.

You nodded, and he let go of your wrist, now intertwining his fingers with yours. “Alice is leaving”.

“Now, I’m not!” she tried to object, but Gwilym had none of her bullshit.

“You’re leaving. D’you remember what rule number five is about?”

Alice lowered her head and mumbled, “Never visit each other without calling beforehand”.

“Exactly. You broke it. Now you’re staying without your monthly supply. And getting the fuck out of my house”.

You could have sworn she muttered “Bitch” under her breath as she was passing by you. When she slammed the door, Gwil went to close it quickly; then he approached you and pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry it happened”, he whispered.

“T’s alright”. You were silent for a moment. “I made you dinner; was afraid she’s gonna eat it”.

Gwil laughed and pulled away, his gaze fixed on you; “Did ya, really?” he sounded surprised. You smiled and nodded; then you took his hand and leaded him to the table. “Wow”, he gasped. “You didn’t have to, Y/N”, your gazes met and you smiled at him one more time, your eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“I wanted to, Gwil”.

He pulled you in a desperate kiss; it seemed as if he tried to show his whole affection and gratitude through it. “Thank you, baby”, he whispered against your lips. “I don’t deserve you”.

You rolled your eyes, ruining the moment and walked to your seat at the other side of the table. “Don’t start this”, you said, sitting down. Gwil chuckled as he took his seat; some seconds later you caught him staring at you.

“What’s for dessert?”

You looked at him with raised eyebrow and a smirk on your face. “You will find out later”, you winked at him.

                                                         ***

                                                        May.

“Y/N, stop apologizing. I’ve already told you everything’s alright”.

You couldn’t stop saying “Sorry” and nervously play with your hair the entire time you were sitting in your flat with Zoe; it was the first time you met each other and you were extremely anxious. She looked dazzling, like a star; she was smoking already a third cigarette in the last fifteen minutes.

“Alice’s the one who has to apologize, if to be honest”, she looked at you. “This bitch fed me with ugly lies about the sweetest person I’ve ever met”.

“Are you talking ‘bout me?”

“Absolutely”.

A small smile settled on your lips; Zoe was really sweet and nice, despite what you had been thinking about her. There was something charming, mysterious about her. You could certainly say why Gwil liked her, even if it broke your heart completely. “So, where were we?” Zoe asked.

“You were telling me about what Alice told you”.

“Oh right”, she nodded. “Alice has like a friend, a source in the company, where Gwil works. This “source” finds out everything about him, dunno how. This person told Alice about Gwil’s ex, Stefanie. I was fucking heartbroken after I heard that story”, she lit another cigarette.

“What’s about it?”

“Oh, Y/N, there’s so much. They were engaged, been together since school. Apparently, he loved her too much to notice that she started getting expensive jewelry and clothes. He believed every word she said, when she lied, telling she bought it herself. It turned out that she had three sugar daddies. And if he could forgive her just getting the money from them, he certainly couldn’t forgive her sleeping with all of them. It’s been like seven years since it happened and he’s still too eager to spoil us so much so that we wouldn’t even think about having someone else”.

You sat down on your couch, looking at Zoe in a state of complete shock. But she continued her story. “Gwil talks too much when he’s drunk; that’s how this source knows all of it”.

“You are his first sugar baby, right?”

Your question hung in the silence of the room. “Yeah. Been for four years”.

“And he never told you this?”

Zoe furrowed her brows and she took another drag. “No. We don’t talk about stuff like that. We usually just have some kind of small talk. He just gives me money-“

“In exchange for sex”, you interrupted her, voice thick with jealousy. Zoe chuckled.

“No. Not anymore at least”.

Your eyes widened at her words. “Why?”

Zoe shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. He called it off several months ago, actually, with both me and Alice. He still gives us money, yeah, but nothing more than that. And if for the reason why – I think it’s ‘cause he’s just as in love with you as you’re with him”.

You gasped; you didn’t expect her to say something like that. You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t-“, you stuttered. “I’m not-“

“Yes, you are”, Zoe huffed. “Come on, Y/N, you know it’s true. He wouldn’t call off two opportunities to fuck whenever he wants just ‘cause he’s bored. No. There’s something more. He loves you, you dumb bitch”.

“He doesn’t, Zoe. He doesn’t and he never will”.

                                        ╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

You are awoken by a loud, non-stopping knocking on your door. You take in a sharp breath, struggling with getting up; your head is throbbing violently, as you stand up from the couch. It’s already dark outside; and you wonder how much time you have spent sleeping. Twelve hours? Fourteen? No matter how many of them – you are still sore, sad and hurt. Everything hurts so badly.

But you’re still wearing Gwil’s shirt. The feeling of its fabric on your skin makes you somehow feel better. Warmer. Makes feel a little bit alive.

The loud knocking proceeds as you walk towards the door. You think that it’s probably your mum coming to see you; you don’t answer your phone as you’ve been sleeping for so long.

When you open the door you expect to see a middle-aged woman with brown hair and angry voice, who’ll start lecturing you immediately as she always does. But your expectations are nothing compared to reality.

With red swollen eyes (like he’s been crying), messy hair and a backpack, which is slowly falling from his shoulder – that’s what  he looks like standing at your doorstep. You don’t understand why he’s here, what he needs from you. You look at him as if he was a ghost, a phantom, a shadow, that will disappear at any moment. You can’t believe he’s here.

“Gwil?”

________________________________________________________________

wtf just happend am I right haha

“alio” taglist:  @majesticdiscodeaky @heartsarecompatible @all-my-friends-are-german @magicwithaknife @longing-hiraeth @thelondondreamer5 @roger-taylors-drumsticks @runningoutofwordstosay @chlobo6 @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @queenficarchive @murydedeus03 @alis-volat-propriiis @deacycomics @hollandspcter @gwils-bitch   @crazylittlethingcalleddub-step @painthatiusedto @kaylaylaylayla @rogerinastolemyheart @broken-pieces 

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x oc #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fic #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee angst #gwilym lee headcanon #gwilym lee headcanons #gwilym lee icon #gwilym lee icons #gwilym lee headers #gwilym lee header #gwilymlee #gwilym lee as brian may #queen #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody 2018 #bohemian rhapsody movie #borhap #Bo Rhap #borhap boys #imagine #fic #fanfiction #you

[littlebell-defensesquad]

I Almost Do - Littlebell - For The People x Taylor Swift

Synopsis: In season 2 episode 7, Sandra Bell found herself having to choose between being loyal to her client and doing what is morally right and reporting something that will harm her client but may save someone’s life to the authorities. While her best friend (Allison Adams), trusted boss (Jill Carlan), and the guy the show wants us to ship her with (Ted 2.0) is standing in the next room, debating whether or not to go talk to her, she vanishes, leaving an iconic pack of florescent post-it note flags for Allison to find, who picked it up, and smiled, knowing that Sandra had made her decision and gone to the AUSA office. She went to consult Kate Littlejohn, her most worthy opponent, who she has indirectly admitted as “the best” (in her profession) once to Leonard Knox while in court earlier in the same season. But Allison was wrong and so were we, in that moment. She didn’t go United States Attorney’s office. She went to a park, set against the backdrop of a sparkly New York skyline, and had previously texted (presumably) Kate Littlejohn to meet her there, making sure to bring her a pretzel as a thank you. They have been in three cases together prior to this one. In the first, Kate told Sandra the story about the Capitol, revealing more about her life in one episode to her opponent than she had ever done to everyone else combined in all previous episodes combined. In the second, Sandra told her a story about sneaking into hotel pools with her dad when she was standing, as the two woman leaned on a hotel room balcony, in the middle of a sting operation. In the third, Sandra asked Kate for a favor, to prosecute a sitting judge, a favor Kate agreed to, and a trial she wins. (I would like it to be noted that Kate has hugged one person in this entire show and it’s Sandra after That Trial.) Right from the beginning, the two women are set up in a duality. Messy and organized. Idealistic and pragmatic. Defense and Prosecution. But rather than moving away from the other, they went the opposite way, getting closer and closer the more they fought to the death in courtrooms, in a slowly unraveling but undeniable revelation that they are far more alike than they are different. So, what happens when they collide again?

On her way back to the office after going to the store with Sandra so she could buy Clue, the receipt still in her hands, the blonde prosecutor sighs. That conversation took so much out of her. It was a honor to be trusted by the fiery public defender, her most worthy opponent, a legal genius undeterred by her raging emotions, but God it was exhausting. Knowing what to say was easy, sitting with Sandra in a park after sunset as the New York City lights twinkled in the towering skyline was something close to magic and an absolute breath of fresh air so different from the monochrome boxes of her office and the imposing grandiose of the Southern District Court of New York. What was difficult was imagining what Sandra was going through. It was worse than when Roger Gunn gave her that case she didn’t agree with but she would have taken anyway. It was worse by infinite degrees. This was not about doing one’s job. It was about one’s very moral compass, the philosophical foundation of who Sandra is. Kate would not want to be her right now under any circumstance.

She knew that the news finally reached her office when Leonard walked in and asked, “How did you convince her?”

She answered honestly. “I didn’t.” After a moment of hesitation, she elaborated, “We just ate a pretzel.” She could sense Leonard’s internal confusion. It made no sense out of context, but she wasn’t going to offer any. That was personal, private. It’s between her and Sandra, the same way the Capitol building is, the same way the DC story is, the same way hotel room balconies and taking an one-hour break is.

So, when she sat down with Leonard to build a lego, she was relieved when he didn’t choose the Capitol building. She almost didn’t offer it, but dishonesty is not one of her infinite talents.

They sat, building the tower, sunlight inevitably reflecting on its windows halfway across the world in Shanghai. As long as it wasn’t raining, of course. But regardless, it’s morning somewhere.

The entire time, her focus flickered away from the project, unlike normally when her concentration was so focused it was difficult to break her attention away from the little plastic pieces in her hands. It didn’t shift to Leonard, radiating warmth and comfort from behind her, working in sync with her to raise the ceiling of the towering skyscraper. She liked him, she even liked-liked him, but he wasn’t a distraction to her. She was almost unable to be distracted by romance, not when she was a teenager, and not even now.

No, she wasn’t thinking about Anya either, even though she is the exact same height Sandra would be if Sandra didn’t wear heels every day of her work life. (Kate would know. She did the math right after Sandra hugged her that first time and shockingly fitted perfectly into her shoulders. There was no way the fiery ball of golden brown hair was that tall.)

Although, maybe she should be thinking about Anya, more than she is. It’s not that she didn’t think about the ATF agent, or that she isn’t heartbroken over their breakup. It’s just that it wasn’t meant to be, and it hurt less because of the fact. Anya always liked her more. No matter how attracted Kate was to Anya, or how nice it was to wake up next to her every morning, or how how good of a kisser she was, it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. Anya would always love her more, and Anya deserved better than that. That’s not real love. It’s a chess game. They both deserved better.

And Leonard didn’t help. Leonard leaving made her realize that her heart wasn’t ready for, or deserving of, Anya. And she couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if her heart was that torn about someone else.

Not that that became anything. Leonard chose Texas. He would always choose Texas. She would always be his second choice. And Kate Littlejohn will not be anyone’s second choice.

No, Leonard isn’t right either. He is barely principled and only conveniently so. He is changing, and learning, and becoming more self-reflective and aware, but he is light years away. He would always do things that not only toe but bulldozer over the line, fall off the moral high ground, break the code of ethics. That’s not a person Kate could ever be in a relationship with, even if he is frustratingly attractive and clearly likes her and their chemistry is off the charts.

She could be his friend, his colleague, but not his girlfriend. Not until he gets to a place where he can be with her and not break apart when her light reflects on his every crack. Someday, he will find someone. Someday, he will find himself. But not today. And she isn’t that someone. Not today.

After Leonard leaves, Kate finds herself holding her phone in her hands, looking at it intensely, before deciding to put it down.

Do not be emotional, Kate Littlejohn. She thinks to herself. Do not let your emotions govern you. Do not act upon impulse. And no, Sandra doesn’t want to hear from you right now. You are the last person that she would want to speak to after she betrayed her client and still didn’t save a life. Because you knowingly told her she was allowed to be herself, allowed to follow her own intuitions of right and wrong, allowed to stop being the professional attorney she is one-hundred percent of the time.

Somewhere across the street, Sandra was on her office couch, in tears. Allison gave her a gentle rub, a gesture of comfort. In the doorway, before she left, she looked back and said, “I love you, Sandy. I’ll be home.” That helped. She needed that reminder that her best friend still loved her, supported her, and would be waiting for her when she is finally ready to leave her office. But she needed more. She needed different. She wanted someone else to analyze every move she made and her motives why, convince her through reason that she did the right thing when her every emotion and worst crippling fear was saying otherwise. She wished people would stop telling her that she did the right thing and start telling her that they know why she feels like she made the worst mistake of her career, and the second worst mistake of her life.

It’s not going to be Allison. And certainly not Ted. Maybe Jill will. Maybe. But even that’s unlikely. In such a moment of vulnerability, her boss wouldn’t say something to risk hurting her favorite employee, sending her deeper into her spiral.

She wished Kate would tell her exactly what she was feeling. She thought about calling her but stopped herself before she even reached out for her phone. Kate has no room for her loss. She knows Kate Littlejohn well enough to know she wouldn’t ever celebrate this victory, or any victory for that matter, with very few exceptions. But still, it is a victory for the prosecution. There is no air for Sandra’s despair. Not today. Not now.

Back in the AUSA’s office, it took everything in Kate not to call Sandra, and every time she doesn’t, she almost does.

#for the people #for the people abc #kate littlejohn #sandra bell #littlebell #littlebell endgame #susannah flood #britt robertson #allison adams #I Almost Do #littlebell au #ftp #ftp au #fanfiction #Shondaland #anya ooms #leonard knox #ao3 #sandra and kate #kate and sandra #kate x sandra #sandra x kate

[douxreviews]

Legends of Tomorrow - ‘The Eggplant, The Witch, and The Wardrobe’ Review

“Mikey! Mikey, Stop!”

Legends continues to ramp up the action as it moves into the final phases of its too short fourth season, and on the way makes the most important statement about relationships that's ever been uttered on genre television.

Have I mentioned how much I love this show?

One of the most consistently impressive things about the way Legends of Tomorrow tells its stories is the way that they're able to take what should be standard, if not cliched, plot set-ups and somehow turn them into something unexpectedly fantastic. Last year, Zari's turn at reliving Groundhog Day gave us the amazing 'Here I Go Again'. This week we get that thing that genre shows love to do wherein one character physically enters another character's mind in order to 'save' them from whatever has caused them to fall unresponsive, and therein finds a world built almost entirely of visual metaphors that help them work through a bit of character development before we get back to the season's larger plot.

So, yes. It's essentially Sara Lance as Willow Rosenberg in 'Weight of the World'. With the small difference that Ava, our Buffy-surrogate in the set-up, is actually able and willing to have a profoundly frank and adult discussion with her inside the, for lack of a better term, 'dreamscape'.

And really, I know that this gets mentioned in these pages a lot, but that's the greatest strength that Legends of Tomorrow has; the way that all of the characters are allowed to behave like rational and emotionally available adults, despite also being time travelling superheroes. It's sure as hell that none of us saw that coming, back in the Vandal Savage days.

Case in point, look at the way that they completely skated past the obvious 'everyone but Ray blames Nora for Hank's death' plotline here. That was obviously what we were being set up for back at the end of 'The Getaway', and yet within the first couple of scenes this week we have the Legends find out that Nora is on the Waverider, she says 'I swear I didn't kill Hank', and Constantine essentially responds, 'Yeah, we totally already figured that out. It was actually fairly obvious, and just the tiniest amount of follow-up on our part established what was really going on. We're totes good, Nora.' And everyone immediately gets on the same page on the issue, because they're all behaving like reasonable adults. That is huge. That just doesn't happen on television.

Even Nate only needs to take the smallest of moments questioning whether or not Nora is guilty before he processes what he's being told and accepts it, and that's the one instance in which they could have legitimately gotten away with a character responding in a destructive way because he was responding emotionally to his father's loss. But they didn't go there, and it cannot be overstated what a positive and refreshing example that is to see.

It's particularly clever of them, because of the way that they pulled the rug out from under us at least twice this week regarding the heavily foreshadowed Nate/Ray schism that we were all bracing ourselves for. Nate finds out that Ray has been harboring the woman he thinks killed his dad, and he responds by listening to what his friend is telling him, accepting what he's being told, and reaffirms their friendship. A little later on we see him accidentally punch Ray in what we assume is going to be the beginning of their 'Civil War' style breakup, only to immediately get ahold of himself, apologize, and embrace his friend. An apology that Ray accepts without hesitation, I might add, because Nate's actions were both completely understandable under the circumstances and immediately apologized for.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the world's greatest ever example of positive male friendship. I'm starting to believe that if we can just get enough people to watch this show, we might actually find a way to counter toxic masculinity. Wouldn't that be nice?

All of which is a roundabout way for me to get to the point that I've been growing to realize that it's really the character relationships that make this show. Witness, for example, the curious level of kindness that Constantine shows to Gary when he wants to hold vigil for Ava. Gary, by rights, should be pure dorky comic relief. Constantine, as a character type, exists almost solely to deflate that kind of comic relief character. And yet when push comes to shove, John goes to Gary's D&D nights. John cares about Gary. That's a nice detail. Similarly, it's notable the way that Mick is willing to help out Zari in something as trivial as crafting sexy text messages to Nate. Mick of even two years ago would absolutely not have been doing that.

Which brings me back to my initial point as regards that important statement about relationships. After a truly enjoyable series of sequences in the 'evil purgatory Ikea', Ava and Sara have some incredibly frank and direct talk about their relationship. And during that talk, they're both so amazingly emotionally available to one another and so willing to be vulnerable with one another. I honestly cannot think of a healthier relationship on television, ever. Not in the sense that they don't have problems, because they clearly do, but in the way tat they're willing to acknowledge them, and admit when they're in the wrong. It's messy, and it's real, and I love every second of it. And just when I think it can't get any better, Ava says;

"Let’s be honest, neither of us needs anybody. But you are who I want."

Yes. That. A million times, that. Can we amplify that message about a billion times, until it drowns out all the rom-com 'I need you to complete me' bullshit? Because that would be wonderful.

Be more like Nate and Ray, people

So what have we learned today?

To stop including this section in the reviews, because trying to condense a logically consistent universal rulebook of how timeline changes work in this fictional universe is absolutely nothing compared to what we should be learning from the character relationships. Also, clearly no one involved in the show is worrying about it.

Everybody remember where we parked.

This week the Waverider pretty much stayed where it was in Washington D.C., 2019. At least, it logically must have been sine Zari could send texts to that year, and Ray bounced back and forth between the ship and the Time Bureau.

Sara, meanwhile, went to actual literal purgatory to rescue Ava's soul. Purgatory, in this case, being an obvious Ikea knock-off called 'Megastor', complete with umlaut.

Quotes:

Ray: "Hey Sara! Great news. Hank was killed by a demon!" Nora: "'Great' was not the word he was looking for."

Ray: "She’s not a liability. She’s a survivor."

Sara: "You two are with me. (To Zari) Woman the ship."

Gary: "Conspiracies, embezzling, paper trails. I feel like Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich."

Nate: "If this is my dad’s mistress I’m gonna jump out a window."

Sara: "Ava, if you check out, you die." Ava: "Well that’s kinda on the nose, isn’t it?"

Charlie: "Being honest, wind powers- just not that scary." Mick: "Yeah, you’re like a magical hair dryer."

Nate: "Yeah, hi. We’re looking for Mr. Uh… Mr… T."

Zari: "I don’t even know why I’m talking to you two about it. You don’t even date humans." Mick: "Love’s love."

Nora: "I know how hard it is to watch someone you love become a demon." John: "Yeah, well too bad there aren’t any Beebo’s around to hug it to death."

Mick: "Here. Use words. It’s erotic, but vulnerable."

Bits and pieces:

-- Yes, I realize that they were actually in purgatory, where her soul was currently stuck, but all the semiotic rules at play here clearly were working on the understanding of 'dreamscape'.

-- So apparently Neron wanted Ava's body to host somebody called Tabitha, I assume she's his demon girlfriend.

-- The trope of the bad guy having a favorite whistle-tune so that we can identify what body he's jumped into later is super clichéd and tired. I still didn't see it coming that he'd end up in Ray though.

-- You should absolutely never pay less than $800 for a mattress. Under any circumstances.

-- It's not clear what actually happened to Nora in that ritual. Are she and Ray going to end up as Tabitha and Neron? I'd be down for that.

-- Absolutely nothing about Hank's magical creature zoo makes sense, and he certainly wouldn't have needed a demon's help to set it up. I hate everything about that plotline, with the exception of Mikey T, who is awesome.

-- Zari, Charlie and Mona giggling about texting boys shouldn't have been charming, but was completely 100% adorable.

-- Dirty secret time, I adore assembling flatpack furniture. Honestly, it's my favorite thing in the whole world. I'm not kidding.

-- The effect of aging and de-aging as the sat on the mattress was really nicely done. A very clean low tech solution which worked well.

-- I'm actually really surprised at how quickly Mona has begun feeling like a natural part of the team.

A really good episode with a lot of really positive things to say about adult relationships, both romantic and otherwise. I just wish it hadn't involved the stupid magical creatures zoo plot, because it's stupid and muddies the waters as to what Neron actually wants to accomplish.

Three out of four flatpack dressers.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#Legends of Tomorrow #Sara Lance #John Constantine #Ray Palmer #Nate Haywood #Zari Tomaz #DC Comics #Legends of Tomorrow Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

[exortentia]

dreams or desires?

pairing: sehun x reader genre: neighbors!au, angst, smut word count: 3174 summary: you go over to comfort sehun after his breakup, but you might’ve overdone the “comforting” part.

a/n: jesus, i haven’t written smut in a looong time so please go easy on me but yes, enjoy!

your back arched with a pleasant hum as his lips trailed down along your navel, your clothes already thrown and forgotten somewhere on the floor. the pads of his fingers lazily toyed with your hardened buds that coaxed sweet noises out of your lips, making the corner of his mouth curl upwards in a pleased smirk. it didn’t take him long to undress you completely as his hands slid down to hook his thumbs beneath the thin fabric of your underwear, which was gone in the next moment. you shuddered as the cool air hit your already wet core, covering your entire body in goose bumps.

his lips were teasingly nipping at the supple flesh of your thighs and you felt yourself throbbing as his mouth headed dangerously close to the sensitive skin. a weak cry emitted from your lips as his own closed around the little nub and gave a gentle suck before he rolled it between his lips while rubbing it in little circles with his skilled tongue which soon moved to run along your folds in a teasing manner. without warning two of his fingers slipped into you with ease and he seemed to like that from the slight noise of approval that sounded from the back of his throat. your hands reached down to tangle your fingers into his hair, finding leverage in the soft locks and tugged on them weakly. he turned his attention back to suck on your clit whilst his fingers brushed against the spot that made you squirm in pleasure but he held your hips down firmly to stop you from moving. he applied more pressure with each brush until you felt your stomach churning and warmth coated his fingers as you came with a loud moan.

he didn’t give you time to catch your breath as you were already flipped over onto your stomach with your hips pushed high up into the air and he caressed the soft skin while stroking himself to full hardness.

your back was facing him as you could feel him slide deep inside of you and your body trembled in its entirety at how wonderful it felt the way his tip was caressing your pulsating walls with each thrust he made. his breath fanned your cheeks as his panting grew louder and heavier, he was chasing after his orgasm while trying push you closer to yours as well. his thumb drew messy circles around your sensitive nub, sending waves of electricity throughout your body that left you mewling out incoherent words mixed with his name in the midst of begging him for more and to never stop. your face was buried into the pillow after your arms gave in, not being able to keep up with his forceful thrusts anymore and you were a writhing mess beneath him as the rustling of the bed sheets and the loud slapping of skin against skin filled the dimly lit bedroom.

you craned your neck to steal a glance at him through your hooded eyelids and you cried out his name the moment your gaze locked with his, which then earned a rough slam of his hips that made you scream, muffling it by biting down on the pillow harshly. he was in full control over your vulnerable body and he obviously liked your submissiveness as sweet nothings and praises were spilling from his lips in a form of low grunts. sweat glistened on his forehead, making his dark locks (that were in need of a trim) stick to his skin.

his brows furrowed and by his erratic thrusts you knew he was close just as you were. his grip on your hips tightness to the point it felt brushing and you were sure your body would be scattered with lilac and blue hues by the morning, being your reminder of that night. his hips stuttered as he came with a loud gasp, a flood of thick white ropes filling you up completely that not long after trickled down your trembling thighs mixed with your own orgasm. you collapsed onto the bed while he was still busy coming down from his high, each roll of his hips making your body twitch from the over stimulation and quiet whimpers were drawn from your lips. your lids soon grew heavy and you could see him throwing himself onto the mattress beside you before passing out completely.

your eyes snapped open as you woke from the very vivid dream you just had.

fragments of it still lingered in front of your vision in the dark. at first it didn’t occur to you but as your gaze began to wander around the room, your forehead creased which resulted in a confused expression taking over your tired features. something just felt odd. none of what your eyes could recognize in the poorly lit room seemed familiar, as if you were in a completely different bedroom. and then it clicked.

you’ve been sleeping in sehun’s bedroom all this time.

and to make everything worse you could clearly feel the duvet brushing against your skin, the skin where a piece of garment was supposed to be, at least. you closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself before you started freaking out, you could envision the horrid look that had plastered itself onto your face when you realized you were completely naked beneath the covers and you didn’t just imagine the wetness you’ve felt between your legs when you shifted to turn onto your back.

it wasn’t a dream. you had spent the night with sehun and the worst was that you even crossed the line of your 2 years of neighbor ship slash friendship. no matter how many time you’ve found yourself thinking about of those what ifs, you promised yourself you would never let something like that to happen. ever. sehun was a handsome young man, there was no reason to deny that as he himself was quite aware of that as well so it was no surprise when you’ve found out for the first time that he was seeing someone. it was quite serious and even though you were not always in the mood to listen to his rambling about his girlfriend, you didn’t have the heart to tell him to shut up as he just seemed genuinely happy with her. as a good friend, you cheered on him as best as you could.

until last night.

he’d texted you if you were free to hang out at his place. his messages were short and lacked emojis, in fact there was none. sehun hated texting you knew that much but to shorten words to the impossible was still odd, even from him. of course his strange behavior made you worried so you shuffled over in your pajamas and some snack you’ve found in the kitchen cabinet. you felt like going empty handed was wrong.

you gently knocked on his front door which took quite some time for him to respond to and when he finally opened the door you immediately understood why. from what you could make out of his mumbles and grumbling his girlfriend decided to end things out of the blue, not giving him a proper reason which left sehun in frustration but mostly heartbroken. you could tell he was suffering even if he wasn’t the romantic type of guy from what you’ve seen. he still had feelings and noone, especially him did not deserve to have them thrown away just like that.

one empty soju bottle followed the other scattered around on the rug on his living room’s floor by the time you’ve found yourself making out with sehun while his hands were sneaking under your shirt eagerly. you had no idea who made the first move, the last image that came to your mind was you offering him a comforting hug when he broke down to tears, but of course he kept denying it. yet the memory of feeling his hot breath on your cheeks when he pulled back from your embrace made you shiver in an instant. soon you could taste the bitterness of the liquor on his lips mixed with his sweet kisses.

and there you were, obviously you have gone further than just a few sloppy drunk kisses.

you could sense sehun sleeping soundly beside you half turned onto his stomach, yet a quiet gasp left your lips when you turned your head to the side. the faint moonlight sneaked through the curtains and illuminated both of your bodies in soft hues of purples and blues. his hair covered most of his face but you allowed yourself for his features to etch themselves into your brain. not like you haven’t seen him enough times already.

just as he was reading your mind you felt him stir in his sleep, brows furrowed and you didn’t wait for him to catch sight of you staring at him sleep in the middle of the night, so you quickly rolled over to face the wall. and if that wasn’t enough, you messily tugged the duvet up that it almost covered your head as well.

you had hoped he wouldn’t realize he was sharing a bed with someone but who were you kidding? and just on cue his arm draped around your waist and it took him a second or two to tug you closer until your back was pressed flush against his warm chest. your breath got stuck in your throat when you felt his hair tickling your bare shoulder that was now exposed as the duvet slid off due to his ministrations.

his hot palm pressing against your stomach caused a shiver to escape from your lips as your entire body was left covered in goose bumps. it felt like as if it was on fire when sehun didn’t really do much in the first place. that’s the kind of effect he had on you after such night and you hated yourself for how much you wanted, or more like, desired it to last longer and for it to happen again and again.

you had to bite back your whimper once soft lips were teasing the skin on your nape whilst his mumbling made your blood run cold. you couldn’t really understand a single word, except for a name. a name that made you choke almost as the air was squeezed out of your lungs the moment realization hit you.

sehun was calling you on his ex-girlfriend’s name.

you had to try your very best not to break down to tears right then and there. you felt so disgusted that it was sickening and you wished for the bed to just swallow you so you would never have to see him ever again. but unfortunately, it didn’t happen. as you couldn’t contain your tears anymore from falling, you let a miserable sob break the painful silence as you desperately scrambled out of the bed, grabbing a few pieces of clothing from the floor that seemed like it belonged to you before rushing out of the apartment and slamming the door shut, not caring about if you disturbed the neighbors’ peaceful slumber by doing so.

you had failed to notice sehun sitting up with a confused expression on his face and uttering your name as his brain (still clouded from sleep) was processing what had just happened.

after that night you tried your very best to avoid running into said man and even just catching sight of him made you sprint back into your safe zone as fast as your legs could keep up. he’d tried visiting you several times in the past two weeks and you’d spent those long minutes of waiting for him to give up and just leave by covering your head with your pillow in hopes so that it would block your ears from hearing the way he was calling your name.

his visits turned more frequent and worried, you could sense it from the change in his tone and it made you feel bad, you felt guilty for ditching him like that. even if at first you’d blamed everything on him you’ve come to realize that it wasn’t entirely his fault. the both of you were intoxicated and you didn’t stop him whenever you’ve got the chance during that night. you wanted it as much as him even if he failed to remember at first that it was you and not his ex. it didn’t seem like they’ve made up either and that as much as it was probably ill to think that way, it made you feel somewhat better.

but lately nothing seemed to turn out in your favor and that night when you were cooking some dinner from the poor selection of ingredients you’d found in your fridge you managed to burn yourself with the steaming hot oil, throwing the spatula into the sink with a little cry in your annoyance. a minute later someone was knocking on the door and you immediately recognized the pattern. in the spur of the moment you forgot about your ‘I’m not existing when sehun visits’ status and barked back an annoyed “what?!” which silence followed.

you held your breath, hoping he’d left and didn’t hear your embarrassing outburst but then you heard him calling your name.

“y/n? … can we talk?”

you didn’t reply, just stared at the door unsure of what to do. he clearly knew you were at home so you couldn’t pretend you weren’t anymore.

“please?”

you heard him trying once more and you just couldn’t help yourself at the tone of his. deep down you knew all along that you would have to face him sooner or later, unless you moved out and some days you’ve found yourself looking at cheap apartments available for rent. you’ve started turning it into a lot bigger of a drama than actually it was that you mentally slapped yourself for being such a miserable bitch.

with a sigh you unlocked your door and peaked out through the slight crack, immediately meeting his gaze. you felt your cheeks heating up and you were about to break the eye contact when he reached out to grab your hand gently, which made you stumble backwards so he used it as an excuse to go inside.

awkward silence settled over the both of you in your living room, even after his hand retreated to rest by his side. you had no idea what to say or do as you just chewed on your cheeks while trying to look anywhere but him. when you  finally dared yourself to steal a glance at him you could tell he was having a hard time as well. he kept opening and closing his mouth while his other hand absently rubbed at his nape, that you were sure started turning red by now.

“s-so…“

“i’m sorry…“

the both of you blurted out at the same time which made things even more awkward. you bit your lip as you kept looking at him and it didn’t seem that hard to do so anymore you figured.

“i called you on her name right?” he asked and your eyes widened slightly in shock. he remembered.

you just nodded, that was barely visible, still unable to form any coherent words as your brain began shutting down even more. although, it was enough for him to see. you could tell he was getting annoyed at the situation or at himself (you weren’t sure) as he rubbed at his face with a sigh. your fingers itched to walk over and comfort him by wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug, but you were too scared to do anything other than just trying to calm your racing heart.

“i don’t know what to say, other than that i’m sorry… which is probably not much, fuck, i know it won’t make anything better but i wanted you to know that… that i knew that it was you all along.” he said and you melted at the sight the way he looked at you.

“and i miss you so fucking much you have no idea. not just because of that but you know…” he paused and pressed his lips into a tight line before continuing, “it feels weird not seeing or talking to you. at some point i’ve thought you didn’t even live here anymore and you just left like that. before i could apologize or explain myself.”

guilt was eating you up from the inside as he kept going on and you balled your hands into fists beneath the long sleeves of your cozy sweater. he hung his head in shame and you padded closer to him in your fuzzy socks until you’ve caught a whiff of his scent. the scent you’ve missed so much and immediately brought tears into your eyes. you quickly blinked them away as timidly, your fingers curled into his shirt to get his attention. you still didn’t know what to say so you just stared up at him and you probably looked silly but you didn’t care.

you freaked out when he suddenly turned to face you and pulled you into a tight hug. your heart was literally bursting as your own hands moved to embrace him tightly with his head tucked against your neck with his eyes closed. soon your fingers found their way into the soft locks and it suddenly reminded you of that night but it didn’t stop you from gently stroking his hair in a comforting way.

you weren’t ready when he pulled back all of a sudden but you soon figured no words were needed once the warmth of his lips coated yours in a soft kiss. it lasted only for a moment but they stayed there, millimeters away from yours as he waited for any signs of approval. however, it was you who leaned in and kissed him back, properly this time.

a few minutes later you’ve found yourself pressed against the wall with sehun’s hands caressing your sides beneath your sweater while your fingers tugged on his hair, encouraging him to keep going as he sucked angry red marks to the flawless skin of your neck which drew a string of sweet moans from your lips.

he pulled back to catch his breath and gazed up at you whilst his hands looked for yours. “bedroom?” he whispered and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

you hesitated before replying, “this time you won’t forget about me, right?” his snort made you giggle upon hearing your question and with a shy smile you tugged him towards the said room, sehun eagerly following you in your steps with his arms finding their way back around your waist from behind. “i won’t. even the neighbors will remember it forever, i can promise you that.”

you slapped his arm as your face turned a bright shade of red, but he quickly distracted you by stealing a kiss, which seemed to work just fine.

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡

#sehun scenario #sehun smut #sehun angst #exo scenario #exo smut #one shot

[agapeeternal]

I’m

Chester Bennington’s suicide has made me think a lot about my own attempts in the past.

Like a lot of people who gravitated to Linkin Park, and Chester in particular, I suffered from undiagnosed depression and suicidal ideation as a child. I had abuse in my childhood from a family member (though not to Chester’s degree). I never told anyone, because I was scared no one would believe me, so I held it in.

School was a hell I had to endure every day until the middle of 8th grade, when my depression spiraled. Years of bullying and not understanding why things were so hard for me study wise, I lost it. That was my first serious suicide attempt. I took a whole bottle of prescription strength ibuprofen and waited. I’m not sure if I passed out or if I just fell asleep, but I woke up and projectile vomited all over my bed. I didn’t feel that shame or the thankfulness that I had survived. I was pissed. I was pissed because not only did this not work, but now I had to completely strip my bed and throw everything into the tub until I could put it in the washer later. I ended up staying home from school that day, I mean, I was “sick”. It took an assembly about bullying and mental illness that happened at our school, a skit performed by a traveling anti-bullying project, to admit to my parents that I was depressed. But there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t think at the time.

My depression didn’t get any better, it just got worse. Some odd happenings went on in school which included an absolutely outrageous suspension and a teacher who hated the shit out of me because she got caught in a lie. And that was the point that I left public school and went into independent study. I actually loved it; for once school wasn’t hell, it was just challenging. But the help I got there as well as the help I got from my family, it worked great. Sure, I still had to do summer school every year, but it wasn’t that bad. I thought, “I can do this now, I’m ready.” So, I tried high school, but three months later I was back in independent study.

I thought I was prepared to handle the demands of a 6 period day, and maybe actually make friend’s, or at least catch up with the people I had hung out with since first grade. But I wasn’t. The reaction I got after returning was less like “girl where have you been?! We kinda missed you.” and was more like “oh you’re back? Wow. Okay. Hi. I guess.” That combined with the depression that never really left, and how exhausting going to class was, I couldn’t do it. I failed at trying to come back and experience high school. People who I had known called a few times, offering to take me to football games or other things, since being in independent study allowed me to have a parent school and all activities and classes were open to me. But somehow they neglected to tell me that they couldn’t go or changed plans until minutes before the events happened. And those were the times I wished I hadn’t survived. I hated feeling disposable, I hated feeling like no one cared about me. And they didn’t. I meant absolutely nothing to them, at least nothing more than birthday cupcakes and valentines cards and field trips when we were in grade school that my mom would help give kids that couldn’t afford it. But after grade school, I wasn’t worth anything, and it stung. But I tried to shove that down, along with everything else, and just concentrate on school. I managed to graduate on time with a 4.0 and walk with my class. It was bittersweet, but at least that was done.

All that was okay, I even managed to hold a job until after I graduated. I took a semester off and when I started college, things went sideways on me, as it usually does when mental illness rears its ugly head, and that led, eventually, to more self-harm and finally, to therapy. By the end of my first semester, I realized I couldn’t do this anymore, without help. It was hard to say, “look, I can’t handle this anymore. I can’t do this on my own, I’m crumbling.” But I did. When I made my first appointment, I didn’t experience the embarrassment at first, that came later. I was like, “fuck it, it’s either this or…it’s this.” I saw my first psychiatrist and after a couple of meetings, he dropped the bomb I was hoping to hear; a diagnosis.

I was bipolar. II to be exact.

After all these years, it had a name. Bipolar Disorder. It was scary but also a big relief, to know that all that inner turmoil I was going through wasn’t just my imagination, it was REAL.

It turns out, all this time, I had been exhibiting symptoms, even as a child. It all made sense, all the ups and downs and tantrums then crying spells, all the trouble concentrating and daydreaming in school. Everything clicked. And now I had to figure out what the fuck to do with this.

I started medication and went through every possible cocktail. I lost my first two psychiatrists to retirement and went through one therapist. Somewhere in there, a breakup happened that disturbed both the process and my recovery, and I went through another therapist until I found my current one. They say you should click with a therapist, that, even though it isn’t easy, that your relationship should help you work through whatever you need to work on. Easier said than done, but I’m more than happy with her.

I was still feeling the depression more than the hypomania, that visited every once in a while, the mixed episodes that visited far too often. But I was doing okay. My baseline wasn’t great, but I knew where it was, and I was doing as well as I usually did. Until everything went sideways again. In late 2015, I went through a horrible breakup. It was messy and painful and I lost it. Again. My therapist had suggested group therapy for me for years, but I didn’t like the idea of having to talk to a room full of strangers. But I finally went to group, and later, to IOP. The little bit of work I had been doing seemed to slide completely backwards. I was actively suicidal, and I tried.

I literally couldn’t take it anymore. I was so depressed and dealing with the breakup combined with other messy things going on and my down cycle, it just snowballed. I didn’t want to die, I don’t think most people to commit suicide do. I wanted to end all the pain and depression and just be able to BREATHE. I wanted to get away from my own head. So I took a mix of my meds and just passed out. It left me mostly drugged out but semi-conscious, hardly able to do anything other than just lay there. I couldn’t walk in a straight line if you paid me. But I was alive. Fortunately, or unfortunately. I was still around.

So when does Linkin Park come in? 7th grade. I saw “One Step Closer” on CMC (California Music Channel) before MTV or VH1 had picked them up. The DJ was a friend of a friend of Mike’s I believe, and played it even though CMC was mostly–almost entirely–hip-hop and r&b. At that time, the only thing outside of hip-hop and r&b that I was listening to was pop music that was playing everywhere else. Papa Roach slipped into the mix shortly, but that was it. Linkin Park wasn’t something I would’ve been interested in. At all. But I didn’t change the channel, I just watched that ridiculous video, and as weird as it was, I found myself really hearing the lyrics. I liked them. They were different.

Then ‘Crawling” and “In The End” came out, and I had never connected with lyrics on that level. Even though I was only 12-13, they still hit home. Hard. I didn’t know how to address what happened to me when I was younger, I still hadn’t told anyone. It haunted me, especially having to see the person. It was only once in a while, but it brought everything back like a freight train. Dealing with that and the painful reality of not having friends, of being constantly bullied, I was confused and hurt. I felt like I didn’t have a voice.

But “Crawling” became my voice. I knew what it felt like to literally be crawling in your skin, to hate seeing your reflection, to despise everything. I felt the endless discomfort and insecurity that was all consuming. Every single line in that song, I felt.

Linkin Park became the outlet I needed. I needed to be heard, I needed to be understood. I needed someone to LISTEN. But I didn’t have to explain anything, everything was there for me, in black and white. I saw my feelings, I saw what I needed. I saw it all. And I was grateful.

Unfortunately, I lost touch with them for a while. Somewhere after Meteora, I strayed. There was no reason other than new songs and artists came out and my musical interests shifted some. But when I found myself in a hole, they were there. They were always there.

In 2017, my musical taste still hadn’t shifted back to them, not completely. I hadn’t heard most of their recent things. But I got into Kiiara. And when I watched her video for “Gold”, on the side it recommended a Facebook live with Linkin Park and Kiiara which threw me a bit. That didn’t seem like a combination that would go well together. But I also saw the video for “Heavy” and I clicked on it. It was hard to watch and I cried the whole time, because 2017 had, up to that point, fucking sucked (and would, inevitably end up being one of the worst years of my life). My head was a mess, everything was heavy, and I wanted to let go. The paranoia and heaviness was everything I was feeling. Once again, they became my voice, and I fell back into them for a bit before drifting away again. I still held onto “Heavy”.

On July 20, 2017, I was packing for my family reunion. I saw that “Talking To Myself” had gone up and watched it, dancing to it as I tried to remember everything I needed with me.

A few hours later my mom called me into her room and asked if I remembered Linkin Park. Of course I did. Then she dropped my worst fear; Chester was gone.

I couldn’t speak for a minute. It literally felt like someone had punched a hole in me. I felt that in my soul, like something was ripped away from me. It was like I lost my breathe (and still haven’t caught it). Chester had brought me so much comfort and peace. He had helped me through times when I was actively suicidal. He helped me when I just needed to put words to my feelings. He did that. He made everything less heavy and helped soothe the hurt. Without him, I don’t know if I would be here, I truly don’t.

I immediately downloaded the new album and listened to it, crying the entire time. The person who had been my voice for so long was suddenly silenced. There was hurt and pain in listening to the music, but at the same time, it was strange comfort. Because, even though he wasn’t here, he would always be.

There was never anger on my side. I understood that feeling, I understood how being in that moment was. It’s horrible. But there was a strange sense of pride. A pride in that he was still here, he made it as far as he did. Most people would’ve completely given up years ago. But he kept going, he kept finding a way. A lot of it was obviously the support system he had, but a lot of it was support that we didn’t see.

We didn’t see every aspect of his life, but what we did see was someone who was both strong and vulnerable, someone who kept going, even when he didn’t want too. He didn’t give up. He was going to fuse his armor back together, he was going to pick himself up if he fell. And he did, he picked himself up until he couldn’t. We’ll never know what happened, what that final catalyst was, what those last moments were like. All we know is that our hearts are a little heavier and the world a little dimmer without him.

There’s now a tattoo on my arm of the Suicide prevention ribbon, and at the bottom are the flames that Chester had on his wrists, along with the words “One More Light”. It’s both to honor and remember Chester, but also to acknowledge my own struggles and remind myself to keep going, to remind myself that my journey isn’t over, that I still have growing and changing to do. It’s hard, when mental illness is there to tell you “NO”, to try and keep you from living, to keep you from enjoying life until you think you only have one choice. But I can’t do that. I owe it to myself and to Chester to keep trying. To hear my Battle Symphony, to not give up, fuse my armor back together and pick myself up.

You’ll always be missed and always be loved Chester. I hope you’ve found the peace you’ve always deserved.

(This is my journey. It’s not over, not by a long shot. I’m still growing and changing, I’m still trying to figure everything out. I have a lot of work to do, but I’m trying, and that’s all I can do.)

#Suicide #fuck depression #Chester Bennington #make chester proud #Linkin Park #tl;dr #makechesterproud #fuckdepression #take care of yourself #be kind to yourself