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ltleflrt · 3 years

Note

Hey Carrie! You talked a little the other day about writers' tendency to start a fic too early in the story, and how you see a lot of first scenes that could have been scrapped to improve the story. My question is if you have some tips to recognize while writing that first scene that you are starting too early in the story?

Hello friend!

That's a really good question, and I'll see if I can give an answer that makes sense. I am not a professional, and I'm not educated or trained in this stuff, it's just something that I recognize from years and years and years of voracious reading. And as with all writing advice, I encourage you to take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt and remember that no writing rule is a hard rule, only a guideline.

Also, my advice is going to be pertaining fanfiction, and specifically to AUs. Obviously a published book has an editor with a razor blade going through a manuscript for you, and the problems that bother me in fanfiction crop up in AUs more than Canonverse.

Oh, and every instance of "you" is general, not specific 😜

So I think the main problem that I see is that people are starting with an Info Dump. An Info Dump is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's completely necessary, but it is NOT where you want to start your story. If it absolutely has to be done, it's better to be somewhere in the middle or near the end. When it's something that your characters need to know.

That's an important bit: Do your characters need to know this?

And related to that: Does your audience need to know this for the story to make sense?

And very important follow up: If the answers to the above questions are yes, does the character/audience need to know this RIGHT NOW?

There's a lot of information about your story that YOU need to know. Heck, my notes files are full of sooooooo much stuff that I know about the characters and plot that never reaches the final product.

So when you're reading your first chapter (I say reading, not writing, because sometimes info dumping for your own benefit is good, and then you fix it before you share the story lol), ask yourself those two questions.

So for example:

In an AU where Dean is a tattoo artist, and it's his POV. The story starts with Dean driving to work, and when he gets there he's going to find out that the empty shop next door has been purchased and is going to be a yoga studio. He meets Castiel out front, up on a ladder trying to hang a hand painted sign, and some teens go running buy and knock into the ladder and Dean has to catch Castiel from falling. (Anyone who wants to adopt this idea is welcome to it btw, I would love to read this lol)

The mistake I often see in a first chapter like this is that as Dean is walking to work, there's a whole Info Dump about why he's a tattoo artist instead of a hunter. He'll be ambling along, thinking about his nice little business, and there's info about how his mom died in a fire, and his dad was a jerk, and Dean didn't go to college because he saved his money for Sammy's college fund, and Dean's only passion was art, and Bobby Singer introduced him to a tattoo shop owner who took Dean under his wing, etc.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: Why is Dean reflecting on his past? Does Castiel need to know this information in order to build a romance with Dean?

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Why does this information matter? If Dean's only reflecting on this because you want to make sure your audience knows where the timeline changed and this became an AU, then you're starting too early in your story. Dean doesn't need to know this, and honestly in a lot of cases the reader doesn't need to know this. This is information that should have been left in your notes file.

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: If this information is pertinent to the plot, like maybe there's some trauma there that Castiel might need to know about to develop their relationship, then you don't want to put it HERE, you want to put it in a conversation with Castiel LATER.

If I was writing this AU, I would just start with Dean sipping his coffee, he's kinda tired because reasons, he looks up to see an unusual commotion, and has to drop his coffee and sprint forward to catch Cas. If he's reflecting on anything in this scene, it's going to be whatever made him tired, or how good/bad the coffee is this morning. Since Cas is a new business owner, they can talk about the origins of Dean's business on their first date, because it'll be a relevant response to Castiel talking about the origins of his yoga studio.

And just in general, if Dean's origin story includes a lot of canon elements, like mom dying in a fire, dad being a deadbeat, Sammy being the adorable overachieving Stanford student.... try to hide that info for as long as you can so that the audience is actually curious about it by the time the info might pop up. It's the wild divergences that are more interesting earlier on.

Okay, and then I want to talk about my giant pet peeve for a starting chapter. It's a specific kind of info dump, that often includes the stuff from above, but then goes a step further.

My nemesis, The Daily Grind.

I haven't asked the authors, so I could be wrong about this, but I feel like most of the time when this type of chapter is included in a story it is because the author wants to show the reader that the character's life is boring and meaningless before the plot's inciting incident. I can absolutely see why that might be considered an important detail about the character, but keep in mind if it's boring and meaningless to the character, it's boring and meaningless to your audience.

You know how I said earlier that writing tips should never be hard and fast rules? Well this is in regards to that Show Don't Tell rule, and it's an example of TOO MUCH showing lol

It is possible to do a daily grind in an interesting way, but only if you include a Shake Up right away. And you have to look at the 3 questions a little bit differently.

So for example:

Castiel POV, and he works in an office. His daily routine is to always get up at the same time every day, he goes for his run, he grooms himself, he has his breakfast, he goes to work and talks to Kelly about how Jack's doing in kindergarten for a few minutes before going into his office. Adler comes in to be a prick, Castiel hates him for it, and then he does his reports, has lunch hiding in a corner of the lunch room so that his co-workers will leave him alone, he does more reporting, leaves an hour after his shift technically ends, goes home to a lonely apartment that maybe includes a pet who is the only being that shows him affection, has an unsatisfying dinner of leftover takeout while watching a mindless reality tv show, then he goes to bed.

Ugh.

BORING.

Which, yeah I get it, the point is that his life is boring. But now the story is too, and I've clicked the back button before I can see how exciting it's capable of getting.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: No. He knows. Poor thing definitely already knows.

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Yes, but...

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: Yes, but new question for ya:

Optional Question 4, why does this need to be separate from your plot's inciting incident? The answer to this 4th question is usually that it doesn't.

Chapter 2 of this type of beginning usually shows the shake up of Castiel's day. My advice is to start with the shakeup, and sprinkle in the details of what you would have put into chapter 1 to show the contrast. It's far more interesting to learn how boring Castiel's day is by starting with the shake up.

So, same scenario:

Castiel's alarm doesn't go off for some reason, OH NO HIS ROUTINE IS SHAKEN UP! You're explaining his routine while also stressing him the fuck out because he has to rush, or skip something that he normally needs to do. Action! Interesting! He gets to work late, and has to miss his conversation with Kelly about Jack because she's telling him that Adler's already in his office being a prick because Castiel isn't there waiting for him like he always is. Oh shit, he's pissing off his asshole boss! Conflict! He's so flustered by the shakeups that he misses something on his report, and he gets a call from that new marketing guy Dean Winchester who asks if they can have a meeting about it when Castiel normally takes his lunch. BAM! MEET CUTE OPPORTUNITY! While Castiel is getting all flustered by how pretty Dean is while they talk about TPS reports, he can reflect on how this is both better and worse than hiding from his co-workers in the corner of the lunch room. The rest of the day after that meeting he's thinking about how weird this day is, he still goes home an hour late, he talks to his pet about his weird day when he gets home, and maybe he still eats leftover takeout, but he's not paying attention to the reality tv show because holy shit he wants to count Dean's freckles.

In this example, you're Telling the audience about Castiel's normal routine instead of Showing them. But since it's during a plot heavy chapter, it works!

Lemme see if I can TL:DR this...

As you're reading, ask yourself who needs to know this information, why do they need to know this information, and why is it important for this information to be included early instead of later?

If the answer to any of those questions boils down to "this is backstory" instead of "this kicks off the plot", then you've started too early.

I hope this helps? I'm always nervous about giving writing advice because so much of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just feeling around in the dark. And I definitely do not ever want to hurt an author's feelings, because this hobby is so fucking hard, and we're all fragile. Even authors who welcome con-crit with open arms will have a weak point that they're unaware of that might get poked wrong and cause a crack, ya know?

I hope anyone who gets this far who might see their own works reflected in my examples understands that I have a lot of respect for their ability to put their work out into the world, and I want them to keep doing it. We're here to have fun, okay? Okay. I love y'all 💜

#ltleramblings #writer's angst #also i think some of these problems can be solved with a prologue #but that's something i'm literally exploring in my current WIP #so I have no idea if I'm doing it right #and i might be breaking all of my own rules with it lol

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heymacy · 3 years

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I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."

#writing prompts #sentence prompts #ficlet #the husband energy is strong with this one #shameless

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 3

Here is the next chapter! Yay!

Words:5500

Warnings: mild swearing, possessive Ivar (maybe?), mild sexual tension, hint of violence

Series Masterlist

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius

"Korítsi, one of these days I'll convince you to take a day off." (Greek: girl)

Kari smiled as she re-tied her ponytail. Glancing over at her boss, she replied. "You would miss me too much. Besides you know I like working here."

The woman shook her head. "You need a life outside of working- friends, a lover, anything besides this studio."

"You just like listening to drama."

"I'm happily married with my dream job; I need you ladies and your drama to keep me entertained.

Kari could only laugh along with her boss. Lydia Hansen was the best boss she could ever have asked for. The woman was in her mid-thirties, settled in life and always happy with a smile on her face and a kind word to share. She also had a mischievous side where she loved listening to the drama of her female workers, many coming to her for romantic advice or to vent about relationships.

Lydia leaned forward in her chair, putting an elbow on the desk beside her as she watched Kari. Even under the fluorescent lights, Kari thought the woman looked beautiful with her naturally tanned skin, short black hair and strong Mediterranean features. Kari could not help feeling like a used ragdoll next to her.

"Why don't you come in at nine tomorrow morning, I can open the studio."

Kari turned around after grabbing her purse from her locker. "Tonight is date night for you and Nels, which means several glasses of wine and you naked in your bed. If your stories are to be believed. So I'm guessing you don't want to be here at six-thirty tomorrow morning. Really, it's fine. I don't mind opening. I do it often enough."

"And that's the problem. You've opened the majority of the time the past two weeks."

"It's only until Sasha comes back from her family's funeral." Kari reminded her.

"Fine." Lydia huffed, then pointed a finger at her. "Then you're taking time off. I'll bar you from coming to work if you try to sneak in."

"What if I want to come for classes?"

"No. I'll kick you out of my studio. Do your yoga at home. By the skies above, you are a yoga instructor yourself. Just pretend to be teaching but alone….and at home!"

The brunette smiled at her boss, knowing all of this was because Lydia actually cared for her employees. Both their physical and mental health. "No promises. Tell Nels 'hi' for me. See you tomorrow."

"Go do something fun for once!"

Kari walked out of the office, chuckling. She waved to a coworker as she passed the front entrance before stepping outside into the late afternoon sun. Checking the time on her phone, she tossed it into her teal hobo bag and slung it over her shoulder, making her way towards the bus stop. In her black leggings, sneakers and purple racerback tank top with Whole Wellness Yoga Studio printed on the front, she could not help but feel slightly out of place as she walked the streets. Though no one gave her a second glance, she always felt like a fraud as she passed others by. The location of the yoga studio she worked at was certainly in the more affluent part of the city, and it showed by the manner of businesses in proximity and the looks and clothing of those who passed her by.

At one time she had worn expensive clothing, never paying attention to price tags, but those days were in the past. Although she adored working at the yoga studio, it barely made ends meet. Lydia mentioned once promoting her in the future to a manager, which came as a surprise since Kari had only been working there for just over a year. For now though, she was content with life. Happier than she had been in a long time. Even if her life seemed boring to others, only focusing on work and what the next book or TV series to enjoy was. It was her life, her choices.

For a brief second, she paused in her walk, thinking she had heard someone call her name. Which was highly unlikely since, truthfully, she hardly knew anyone in this city. With a mental shrug, she continued on, enjoying the feeling of the sunshine on her exposed skin.

"Kari Larsen! Don't you ignore me!"

The sudden scream made the brunette freeze in place, stunned and slightly terrified. Hesitantly, she turned, scanning around to see who had yelled for her attention. Luckily, it did not take long to notice the tall, blonde wearing the thigh-high boots and white, boho dress waving like a mad woman as she leaned over the short half-railing, separating the sidewalk and the restaurant's seating.

Smiling, Kari made her way back towards the woman, who beamed at her. "Gyda! When did you get back?"

"Just yesterday. I know I say this every time but jetlag is a bitch." Gyda sighed dramatically, though her eyes twinkled in mirth. Leaning against the half-railing, she towered over Kari. On a good day, she stood just under six feet but with the short-heeled boots today, she peered down like a goddess from Valhalla surveying the lesser mortals.

"I don't know how you do it." Kari shook her head, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"Eh, you make it work." Gyda turned and peeked over her shoulder for a second before looking back at Kari. "What are you doing? Just get off work?"

"Yeah. Heading home."

"Do you want a ride?" She offered, tapping a finger along the railing.

Kari could feel the stares of the other patrons sitting outside and the wait staff, most likely wondering why someone like her was conversing with Gyda. Awkwardly, she toyed with her trusty diamond stud in her earlobe. "Not this time, but thank you. I'm sure you want to get back to your friends."

"It's just some of my many siblings and Torvi."

"Oh, you'll have to tell her I said 'hi'."

Gyda was a regular at the yoga studio when her schedule allowed. As a freelance writer, her schedule was chaotic at the best for time. Lately most of her works had been commissioned for traveling magazines, so her time coming to the studio was sporadic based on when she was in the country. It was through the studio that Gyda and Kari met. They would occasionally exchange pleasantries before or after Kari's class or in passing. Their friendship solidified only after Gyda found Kari standing at the bus stop in the cold rain months ago and offered to give her a ride home. They had met up a handful of times so Kari could hear all about the latest places Gyda visited and see the pictures she took, satisfying her own travel-wandering soul, sealing their friendship.

And through Gyda, Kari met Torvi. Though both women were at least ten years her senior, she enjoyed their presence and conversations. Torvi only came occasionally with Gyda as her guest to the yoga studio. At first, Kari was surprised when she learned they were sisters-in-law because of how close they seemed. Yet she found it refreshing, since most of her experience with family was tense to say the least. It was nice to know her own family's tendencies were not the norm.

"I will." The blonde exclaimed, her smile widening. "Oh! Do you want to meet Bjorn? I know you've heard Torvi and I talk about him enough that it's funny you haven't met him yet."

"Oh, I'd hate to interrupt…."

"Shut up. You're meeting him. Come on, I'll let you in through the main door, meet me over there." Then she spun on her heel and sashayed away, garnering a few lingering looks from nearby patrons.

If there was one thing Kari learned over the past several months of knowing Gyda, it was that the woman was head-strong and always got her way. So with an amused roll of her eyes, Kari headed around the restaurant to its main entrance just off the side of the busy sidewalk. The restaurant screamed money and prestige, something Kari learned both Gyda and Torvi had in spades. It was unnerving at first but their welcoming and kind presences help alleviate Kari's fears of being viewed as less.

Sure enough, Gyda stood waiting for her by the door. Chatting like a bird, she slipped her arm through Kari's and led her past the shocked waitstaff. The restaurant was even more impressive inside than how it appeared from the street. It was modern with a sharp black and white color scheme, tasteful and exquisite photos on the walls, and dark wood tables and chairs. Kari figured the price of a meal here was similar in cost to her monthly rent.

Gyda led her to a table that was outside in the sun, but partitioned from the street by the half-wall railing she had leaned over earlier to get Kari's attention. The brunette quickly counted five people already sitting there, apparently carrying on a lively conversation if the laughter meant anything. Before she could get a good look, Gyda directed her towards Torvi who reclined next to a man with an imposing physique and a long, blond, braided ponytail in a smart suit.

"Kari, this is my brother and Torvi's husband, Bjorn."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Kari smiled politely, taking his outstretched hand in a handshake.

"Likewise. So, you are the famous yoga instructor these two go on about?" He asked, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "I must confess, I find yoga a peculiar activity but with it helping Torvi's flexibility while we…."

Torvi smacked his shoulder, making the men around the table laugh. "Ignore him, Kari. I don't know why I bring him out in public."

"Hey!" He pulled her closer and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. "You love me."

"Mmm…. most days."

At that point, Kari looked up to peek at the others sitting at the table, ready to greet and then head out. Except the first thing she saw was a pair of stunning blue eyes that captured her gaze. Unable to move or look away, as if he was physically restraining her with only his gaze, her heart soared and stomach dropped simultaneously.

It was only when Gyda started to introduce the others at the table that she ripped her gaze from his, all the while feeling his eyes never leaving her.

"Let me introduce these other assholes quick. At the head of the table is Uncle Floki, and the two idiots across from us are Bjorn and my half-brothers, Hvitserk and Ivar."

Hvitserk greeted her with a flirty smile on his boyish face; while the strange-looking man, Floki, just gave a single nod in acknowledgement.

"We've already met," Ivar said with a wicked smirk, letting his eyes blatantly trail over her form while he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, "isn't that right, kitten?"

Kari hated how just from the sound of the pet name, her heart beat increased traitorously and a flush rose to her cheeks. It brought to mind how his hands gripped her hips, caging her to him, how his lips and tongue caressed her skin, the peak of pleasure that crashed over her without warning...and about all the ice cubes and make up she had to use to get conceal the marks and hickeys he decorated her skin with. "Um, yeah, sort of. I…. I didn't catch your name though."

"It's alright. I can't blame you as we were otherwise…. preoccupied." The blue-eyed devil teased, either uncaring or not noticing the inquisitive looks from the others at the table. It was unfair how striking he looked in a simple black t-shirt, showcasing his broad shoulders and muscular arms that were award-worthy.

Mortification was the best description of emotion causing Kari to further flush but also avert her gaze to the food-laden table. For some reason she figured the likelihood of her ever meeting Ivar again was slim to none. Clearly they ran in different social circles and really they had no reason to bump into one another. Apparently universe, fate, whatever decided her life was going too well and decided to throw a curveball at her. Then to make matters worse, here he sat arrogantly and alluding to what occurred between them in front of his family.

It had not gone unnoticed by her that Gyda mentioned Ivar was her half-brother, making her a Lothbrok too, even if she did not go by that last name.

Kari peered around the table, a polite smile on her face in a poor attempt to mask any further revealing thoughts. "Well, it was lovely to meet you all but I need to be going."

"You sure you don't want a ride?" Gyda kindly offered again, already reaching over to grab her own purse. "It's not a problem."

"No, stay. The bus should be here in a couple minutes. Your food is getting cold."

Gyda opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to reconsider and instead gave her a quick embrace. "Ok, I'll stop by the studio this week and we can catch up."

"I'll hold you to that." Kari returned the hug; her body tingled as if bugs crawled all over skin making her want to flee the restaurant even faster. With a hurried "goodbye" to everyone else, trying to avoid Ivar's penetrating gaze, she headed out of the restaurant. With the looks she received from the waitstaff and patrons, she quickened her pace, feeling like an intruder in the lavish establishment.

Soon as she stepped outside, back onto the busy sidewalk and warm sun, she inhaled a deep breath. A part of her felt awful for how quickly she ditched Gyda, who had only ever been kind to her. Truthfully, she had wanted to meet Bjorn because of the stories both Gyda and Torvi shared.

All of that had been eclipsed by the sight of the man she had made-out with over a week ago in that dark club…. Ivar Lothbrok.

Never aloud would she admit how often she thought about him since their encounter. Yet she knew it was best to stay away from him, ever if a part of her fought the notion. It would be safer, for both of them.

Now suddenly coming face-to-face with him, her emotions warred within her as to how she should feel.

Her feet hurried along the sidewalk, worried she would miss her bus because of her detour in the restaurant….and maybe a piece of her needed to put distance between herself and the handsome, cocky man that plagued her thoughts. At the crosswalk, she practically bounced on her toes, willing the light to change color faster. Her mind whirled with the new information of Gyda's relations. Could they still be friends? It also answered her unspoken question of where the wealth came from that Gyda and Torvi were accustomed too. The Lothbroks may not be a household name but it was certainly known in the business world, especially since the many sons had stepped up and expanded its empire.

Without warning, a firm hand grabbed her upper arm, whipping her around. A shriek stuck on the tip of her tongue at the unexpected action. She turned to be greeted by a stunned pair of eyes and open mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else." The flustered man said, retracting his hand from her and rubbing his beard with it self-consciously. "No wonder you didn't answer when I called…. I thought you were ignoring me. Are you OK? I'm so sorry again. "

She placed a hand over her chest, heart hammering almost painfully. The man appeared so concerned about scaring her, it was endearing. "It's fine. You just startled me, I guess I was thinking too hard."

He shuffled his feet for a moment, looking down at them before looking up again. "I'm Daniel, by the way."

"Kari."

"You headed, ah, to the bus stop too?"

A genuine smile touched her lips as he sided up next to her amongst the crowd of others waiting to cross the street. "Yeah, actually. Just got off work."

"Hey! What a coincidence. I plan on going home, eating whatever is in my fridge that doesn't have mold on it yet and sitting on the couch watching TV for at least the next three hours."

"That sounds amazing. I may have to steal that idea."

He turned to face her, placing his hand on her shoulder, and stared at her in mock seriousness that made her giggle. "I give you full permission, no need for thievery. And don't eat something healthy, it's a perfect night for gluttony."

Before she could respond with her own quip, someone grabbed Daniel from behind, throwing him to the ground. Bystanders barely made it out of the way as Daniel just caught himself on his hands and knees.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!"

Kari stared in horror as Ivar loomed over Daniel, fists clenched and eyes blazing. Everyone nearby drew back, creating a wide circle and warily watching the fight that was threatening to happen.

"Ivar, stop!" Kari tried to move between the two men but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back behind him effortlessly.

Daniel hesitantly got up, scraped hands held up in surrender. "Sorry, man. I swear I wasn't trying to make a pass on your girl. Just making conversation."

"Sure. Now fuck off and don't let me fucking see you around her again." He seethed; the words spat out from between clenched teeth.

Eyeing Ivar as if he expected the man to suddenly attack him again, Daniel started walking away in the opposite direction, casting occasional glances over his shoulder.

At this point the light for the crosswalk turned green and those bystanders waiting began to move, all the while still leaving a wide berth around Ivar and Kari. Though she tried to ignore them, she could not help but catch a few looks of concern and pity directed towards her.

Pulling away from the arm still around her waist, Kari made to cross the street when Ivar grabbed her wrist.

"Where are you going?" He demanded, lingering fury coloring his tone.

"My bus is just up there. I need to go or I'll miss it."

"No, I'm giving you a ride home."

"What? No, I don't need…. I told Gyda it's fine."

He scoffed, relinquishing his hold on her wrist. "I'm not doing this for Gyda, now come on."

"No, really, I…."

"It wasn't a suggestion."

Equal parts dumbfounded and angry, she looked back up the street only to see the doors of the bus closing. She closed her eyes for a second, begging for patience and understanding. What she really wanted to do was ignore Ivar and walk away, find somewhere to wait for the next bus. But if Ivar had followed her from the restaurant and was now demanding he give her a ride home, she figured he would not be beyond dragging her over to his car, or whatever he rode in, and continuing to make a scene. It made no sense why he would follow her to offer a ride or attack a random man. She wondered if this was the Ivar Lothbrok that her friends warned her about.

Deep down, she found herself still wanting to be around him again. To see if the man she met at the club was the real him or just a mask…. plus, she hated to wait for the next bus. There was a creepy lady that liked to sit next to her and tell her about the latest escapades of her many gerbils or the newest “friend” her adult son brought home for the night.

"Fine." She stated, turning back to him.

"Good girl. This way."

Silently, she followed him back towards the restaurant and down the next street to a luxury Mercedes car. In her mind, she decided that just because she was getting a ride from him did not mean she had to be friendly. Her plan was to ignore him and stare out the window. Hopefully that was enough of a hint to leave her alone. He was the one who chased her down to give her a ride. His infuriating actions may have spurred her pettiness to supersede the wisdom of ignoring him, especially knowing he was a Lothbrok.

The driver held the door open for both of them to slide in. The bench seat was spacious with a detailed leather interior and that unique new card smell. Another time, Kari may have loved to ride around in a vehicle like this, pretending to be a celebrity or someone important. Now she just wanted to get home. Even if that traitorous part silently ogled him, an arm’s length away from her.

"Where to, sir?" The driver asked once he took his seat in the front.

Then with an arrogant smirk, Ivar rattled off Kari's address.

Kari's plans to ignore him flew out the window. She stared open-mouthed as he leaned back in the seat, brace-covered legs spread out obnoxiously. The first real trickle of fear since meeting him danced up her spine.

"How? I mean…. are you…. stalking me?"

He laughed, cocking his head to the side, to eye her lazily. "You're harder to track down than most people. No social media really. Pay most things with cash. It's like you're trying to hide something."

She gulped, the revelation he could find out all that about her so easily was unnerving. But his last statement hit a little too close to the truth to bring her comfort.

"But it wasn't too difficult." He added brazenly, apparently ignorant of the anxiety his prior statement caused. "And now I found you."

"Why? I mean… why were you looking for me?"

He stared at her, those predatory eyes prying into her soul. She shifted awkwardly, wishing to be free from his gaze but unable to tear herself away on her own accord. Caught in his trap, his web, all she could hope for was mercy. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted down to view his lips, the memory of them against hers at the forefront of her mind…. even more than the anxiety still skating on her nerves.

In an instant, he reached over and hauled her across the bench seat and into his lap. A squeak flew from her as she abruptly found herself sitting sideways on his legs.

As her mind raced to figure out what to do, and honestly how to feel about this, his lips descended on hers and all prior thoughts vanished. His tongue invaded her mouth, forcing hers to comply, demanding attention. Without hesitation, she gave in. Her hands traced his sideburns and the braids on the top of his head. No matter how many times she tried to forget his touch, his kisses, it haunted her. Now having his lips on hers once again, she found even her memories were incomparable to the actual feel, of his lips, his hands, his breath, his body, his scent. It all drew her in like a beacon, directing her to her greatest desire and darkest temptation.

"All I can think about is you." He murmured, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. "Fuck…. how good you taste, how good you feel…. I could barely focus on work."

"Ivar…" she moaned, feeling herself melting under his touch. As he pressed kisses along her jawline, a quiver ran through her but instead of feeling ashamed like before, she tilted her head to expose more of her neck. Normally so reserved with physical touch, for some unexplainable reason, she felt safe enough to embrace her wanton side with him. Somehow, she knew he would not make fun of her actions. Perhaps it was because of his reaction when finding out her virginal status. All she knew was his touch, his very presence, drew forth a side of her previously unknown while making her feel safe.

His hands gripped her with an almost possessive hold. "Gods, I want you." He groaned against her pulse point, the sound wicked with the sheer desire infused in it.

And for some reason, those three words broke the spell holding her hostage to him.

She froze. Slowly she leaned back to stare at him. The truth, the confession, tasted like poison on the tip of her tongue.

"I…. I can't." She whispered, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"What are you talking about?"

"I won't…. I'm not having sex with you."

What lust and tenderness towards her vanished in the blink of an eye. His hands that had been caressing, now gripped painfully. Eyes that beheld her as a goddess, now threatened to cut her without remorse. The very air between them threatened to catch fire with a single spark due to the tension.

"Why not? Cause I'm a cripple?" He snarled at her like an enraged animal. "You'll kiss me and let me get you off but you won't fuck me? Or did your friends tell you who I am? Is that it? Now that you know who I am, you're going to run away?"

"No, it's not… no, I don't think I'm the kind of girl you'd want." Tears welled in her eyes, both from fear and the physical pain he was causing with his forceful grip.

"And what the fuck does that mean? You know me so well, huh?"

That poisonous truth dripped off her tongue once again. How could she tell him that if he truly knew who she was, he would reject her? It was not even a question but a fact. It was better for both of them to stay away, to never see one another again. How twisted was her truth, how deceptive was she in the face of a man known for his violence. Even as her innermost being begged to let go of her past self and embrace this…. embrace him.

"I'm nobody. I'm boring. I don't have money or influence. I just am…. You'd get tired of me in like two days." She took a steadying breath, her hands fiddling in her lap as to avoid his piercing gaze. The lilac color on her nails was starting to chip at the edges, redirecting her attention for a brief second. Even if all she wanted to do was run, avoid this conversation like the plague, she knew in a way, she owed him the truth. Her next words came out in a rush, otherwise she knew they would never pass her lips. "And I don't want to have sex until I'm ready and with someone who cares about me."

She wondered if this was the spark to set him off. How quickly he would reject her, push her off his lap, laugh in her face for her orthodox ideal, call her frigid like others before. Mentally, she prepared for it, even if every time the words were still a dagger to her heart. This time would be no different.

What she did not expect was after almost a minute of painful silence, for him to gently grip her chin and turn her head to face him once again.

"Go on a date with me."

She balked. "What?"

He stroked her cheek, his hand that had been gripping her thigh, most likely leaving vivid bruises, now created soothing circles. It was his voice that shocked her the most. What had been harsh and unrelenting in cruelty now was soft and gentle. "Let me take you out. I'll even follow your damn rule of no sex. Though I know you want me just as much."

"Ivar…."

"You can't deny it." He taunted, with a devilish grin, "You like the idea of me touching you, bringing you pleasure, showing you what you've been missing with my fingers," teasingly, he glided his fingers along her inner thigh, close to her core, "and my tongue," he licked the shell of her ear before whispering the next part, "and my cock. Tell me you haven't thought about it."

Her breath hitched with each movement of his, his filthy words making her wet without her conscious approval and the cocky bastard knew it. "I…. please stop…." She tried to plead, only to make him laugh.

"Stop lying to both of us."

"Please, don't do this. I just can't."

"Why not?" Jaw tense, he regarded her with a look of pure hunger but also exasperation. "Give me a damn good reason."

"It's better if we don't."

He leaned back fully in his seat as if examining her. That devious and deadly gaze pinned her, reading her very thoughts and secrets. Beneath it she felt vulnerable and naked, something she detested. She tried to squirm out of his lap, to put necessary distance between them. His hands only tightened on her, keeping her restrained in his lap.

"It's not…" he started then stopped to lick his lips. And there it was, a glimpse behind the mask, that vulnerability she caught a peek of when they were at the club, "...because I'm a cripple?"

"What? No, not at all. That doesn't…. no, you're beautiful." Soon as the last word left her mouth, her absolute shock at his question morphed into humiliation. Both of her hands flew up to cover her face, burning with embarrassment.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"Shut up."

He chuckled, running his nose along the column of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. "And you still won't go on a date with me?"

Cautiously, she eased her hands from her face to meet his amused gaze. "I'm sorry." She replied with a shake of her head.

He eyed her as if trying to suss out more of her secrets, head tilted to the side and eyebrows furrowed slightly. After a long moment, he smirked. "Alright. We'll see about that."

"What?"

"You heard me. You'll change your mind eventually. I can be very persistent with something I want."

With a push of a button on a nearby console, loud music filled the air but he did not release her. Instead, he continued to stroke her back or legs as he gazed out the window. Every time she tried to squirm out of lap, he would tighten his grip on her hip or thigh, silently demanding she remain. Finally, she gave up and relaxed against him, enjoying his soothing touches and the warmth of his body.

Ivar Lothbrok was the most complicated man she had ever met. Just in the past hour, she witnessed him go from cocky to murderous to sensual and now dare she even say…. charming. It baffled her that he purposefully sought her out, even if it was stalker-ish. That he wanted to go on a date with her, knowing she would not put out at the end for him. Her image of him and the one painted by her friends were so vastly different…. she wondered which one to believe. Not that it truly mattered, since they would not be seeing each other after this. She could not open that door. It was better this way.

She was disheartened when they reached her home. The way their bodies fit perfectly together, how comforting his touch and presence was, it was unnerving and intriguing. A small part of her wished the drive was longer so they could continue remaining in this bubble of illusion. That she could soak this feeling up just a bit more, for something to hold onto when she was alone. How life could have been between them if fate was different.

The driver pulled up the luxury car in front of the unoccupied, short driveway. With no car there, that meant her roommate was not at the townhouse. Probably for the best, since if Alana had seen Kari getting out of a vehicle with Ivar, she would have lost her shit.

"Come on… tonight." He whispered into her ear, entwining their fingers, those exquisite eyes begging for her to change her mind. "Let me take you out, kitten."

"I can't…. but we can be friends... if you want."

Soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. What kind of stupid thing was that to say? She needed to stay away from him, she knew it. But seeing that last hopeful gleam in his eyes and the despair that replaced it as she told him 'no' once again…. it was too much.

A cocky smirk slowly spread on his lips, like he knew something that she was not privy to. He laid a kiss on the back of their entwined hands. "If you say so."

Carefully, he helped maneuver her off his lap, and out of the vehicle, his hands grazing over her hips and thighs quickly. She turned around and raised an eyebrow, for him to only stare at her in an innocent expression. Instead of being upset, like she should have been, she just rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to keep the smile off her lips.

"Um, thanks for the ride."

"Yeah. See you soon…. friend." With a teasing wink, he closed the door and a second later, the vehicle pulled away.

She watched the car drive away and wondered why the word 'friend' left a sour taste in her mouth.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar x ofc #ivars heathen army #ivar romance #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings ivar #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x oc #hvitserk #floki #gyda #torvi #vikings bjorn #mzwrites

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weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.

My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough.

“oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.”

A flying toenail hit my eye.

“WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.

“Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

“oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!”

“IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back.

I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle.

“All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

“You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.”

“Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.”

I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.”

“Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?”

This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did.

After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t.

And he didn’t.

And therein lay the problem.

It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

“Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.”

“Ew, he smells like meat.”

“RENNY!!”

“I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

“He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.”

She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window.

“Hey Renny?”

“Hm.”

A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?”

“Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.”

“Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.

“Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?”

Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first.

“I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.”

“Oh.”

“It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

“The divorce or your virginity.”

“Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis.

“I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more.

Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?”

Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him.

“Maybeeee…?”

But then there was last night.

I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves?

“No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.”

Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.”

“Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this.

Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly.

But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him?

You were right, Harry. You are fucked.

I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh.

I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

Renny was right.

I needed therapy.

The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

“Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?”

DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please.

I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

“NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

“Fine. I can keep a secret.”

I was getting a little too good at that lately.

She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious.

“Yeah, more than you know.”

And I was serious, too.

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

I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs.

Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery. .

“Woah did you hear that?”

Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.”

It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next.

A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did.

“It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts.

“How’d you know that?”

She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance.

I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick.

Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away.

My hand wavered.

Odd.

Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors.

I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over.

“Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”

Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster.

“I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.”

Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too.

“Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed.

We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from.

“Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment.

My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?”

“Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-”

“My God,” David proclaimed.

Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.”

“Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass.

Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

“Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased.

He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.”

We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left.

“Look closer.”

My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang.

“Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin.

The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot.

“Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

“Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.”

“How so?”

“Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.”

He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside.

He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles.

“They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said.

A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.”

“Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.”

“Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him.

I felt him come closer.

“Listen now,” he urged.

I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder.

“Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.”

I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed.

“Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?”

I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous.

“What do you hear?” he urged.

“I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped.

But right when I was about to open my eyes-

I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter.

“Birds?” I opened my eyes.

“Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself.

“Why are there birds?”

“We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half.

My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.”

“All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes.

“Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.”

“What do you mean?”

She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow.

I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second.

I was naked.

In all of them.

One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.

Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet.

The wine had dropped.

I’d dropped it.

I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb.

“Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked.

I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe.

He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees.

Because that’s what it was.

An exposure.

A stranger could pay to have me in their home.

The floor spun, vision spotting.

My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly.

“I didn’t want this.”

And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home.

part 22

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garciastella · 3 years

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meet stella garcia // welcome to fairvale.

the basics //

full name : stella aline garcia birthdate & zodiac : june 24th, 1985 & cancer gender & pronouns : female & she/her sexuality : heterosexual but open occupation : council member hometown : worcester, mass family : lucas garcia ( father - deceased ), aline garcia ( mother - deceased ), alberto ( al ) garcia ( brother ) & marc rodriguez ( husband - presumed deceased )

deeper dive //

hobbies : gossiping - stella has always grown up in a world full of people and gossip was the currency to get what she wanted from them. while she tries to maintain secrecy when those request it, she loves talking about the various people in her life - to other people. cooking - her mother taught her everything she knew, and then her aunt taught her everything she knew - the result made stella able to create dishes from both of her cultures, not to mention her american favorites - she’s a master griller and loves seafood. studying - while she hasn’t been in school in a few years, it was always an important staple of her life. she was on the cusp of receiving her doctorate when everything fell apart, and spends hours in the library reading various books on different topics so she can be as informed as possible. she has an ear for languages and can speak fluent english, spanish and portuguese due to her background, but has an elementary knowledge of french and italian and has even attempted to teach herself latin. photography & modeling - a hobby she picked up when she was younger - she often volunteered for the photography students in college and modeled for a few photographers in boston, before picking up the camera herself. she loves to take pictures of the world around her - especially the people, including herself. now that the world has ended, she uses the old photography studio in the high school to develop photos of her own whenever runners can find her film; she’s trying to document as much as she can of the world they live in now.

favorites : food - lobster. drink - rosé, coffee and pineapple-mango smoothies. nowadays, she sticks with water. movie - the notebook & titanic - she’s a classic romantic who loves cheesy romance dramas song - she doesn’t have a specific favorite, but her taste ranges from pop to indie to classic 60s/70s. she has a soft spot for stevie wonder since her mother loved him the most. color - purple habits : former smoker / drinks occasionally / former drug use nervous ticks include chewing on her bottom lip, wringing her fingers together, and averting eye contact. loves : baseball, the beach, seafood, the ocean, fast food, cozy blankets, bubble baths, candles in floral scents, new perfumes, wine and game nights with friends, debating, helping others and snow days ( just not too many ). fears : heights, motorcycles, and being ignored talents : languages, dance, photography and twirling knives

appearance //

height : 5′6″ tattoos : small black bird on left shoulder scars : birthmark on left calf in shape of a crescent moon piercings : all closed over now, but former ears, nose and navel piercings hair : it used to vary from time to time - she goes blonde a lot in the summer but tends to remain her natural dark in the winter months. these days, she lets it sit at his natural brunette, letting the summer weather lighten it naturally. fashion : work - dresses and blazers, dark jeans with loafers sometimes, jewel toned sweaters. personal - casual clothes - usually jeans and a teeshirt or top of some kind, not too different from her work attire but a little bit more comfortable. occasionally she’ll wear yoga pants or workout gear if she’s gone for a run and stops somewhere on her way home. shoes - despite being vaguely clumsy, she wears a lot of heels. she also wears ballet flats, loafers and if she’s working out, she’ll throw on sneakers. at home she likes knee high socks instead of slippers.

bio //

stella had everything a girl could possibly want. growing up traveling between cuba and boston her whole life, she was raised with an eclectic family, made up of not just her nuclear family but aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents, family friends who’d gone back generations enough to be considered blood. she was a charming kid, who everyone seemed to fall in love with easily and was never denied a single thing. ‘spoiled’, perhaps, but down to earth enough for it to be looked past. when their father passed, stella and her brother alberto ( al, always ) clung to one another and their mother, aline. while they were still always surrounded by family, it was truly stella and al against the world, looking out for the other above all else and of course, their mother who did everything she could to get them the whole world. it was through her mother that she fell in love with cooking and languages, through her brother that she spent hours at fenway park watching the red sox, the three of them a small but happy family that always stuck near to one another.

college was easy - so easy that stella applied for grad school without a second thought, knowing she wanted to help change the world for those who hadn’t had it as easily as she had. she found her passion in becoming a guidance counselor for a middle school, the worst time for any kid but worse for some. when the option to become vice principal came up, she took it eagerly - leaving her office door open for anyone who still needed her in a counseling position. still, she knew she could do more - it wasn’t long before she was applying to get her phd in adolescent behavior, hoping to change more than just the small neighborhood she resided in. it was on the eve of her one year anniversary to her husband and childhood best friend marc that everything changed. the two were planning a romantic weekend away in the berkshires when she turned on the television for background noise, packing her bags just to hear the words : a virus, deadly not just for the person who caught it, but anyone they went after. it was a horror movie come to life, and when she didn’t hear from marc for over three days, she didn’t know what to do. she stayed in their small apartment, hoping he would show up and trying to convince her mother to come and stay with her. it was only a week later that she saw it happen - a neighbor they’d known their whole lives infected, her mother unknowing and unaware as she met her end. it was al who had had to kill them both - stella sobbing on the kitchen floor of the home she’d grown up in, nothing feeling familiar or comfortable anymore. the two knew boston held no home for them anymore, and packed everything they could to head south. they were heading for cuba, but got the news that the island they’d once known as intimately as their own home city was a nightmare turned reality somewhere around washngton. for days they drove around before they found the town of prescott, georgia. already in action, half the town was deserted - or dead - and those that were left were building walls, a strong fortress surrounding the town lines as they attempted to keep everything away. they put themselves in the thick of things, finding a new community. while she couldn’t be who she was before, she did her best to help take care of the town’s children, and after the insurrection volunteered to be a part of the council to help keep everyone safe. just because it was the end of the world didn’t mean they all had to lose their minds, or worse - their humanity. and stella would do her part to keep them as safe as possible.

#msg #& i’m hanging on your words like i always used to ( aes )#you know i'm such a fool for you ( abt )#©

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blueiskewl · 3 years

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432 Park Ave , 82FL

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The residence is comprised of 5 bedrooms, 2 master bathrooms, 4 on-suite guest bathrooms, 2 powder rooms, 2 offices, 2 dressing rooms, a media room, an oversized eat-in gourmet chef's kitchen, and a sprawling 1,100 square-foot Great Room perfectly situated in the prime southwest corner of the floor.

The sprawling full-floor home features soaring 12'-6? ceilings, 10'x10' windows, white oak flooring and window seating throughout. A selection of exquisite stone wraps the kitchen and each bathroom, intricate design details including custom wall treatments and millwork abound. The 82nd Floor has been completely refit with centrally controlled, state-of-the-art media, climate, and security systems.

On offer are also two staff suites on the 29th floor, inquire for details.

Designed by Rafael Vinoly, this extraordinary 96 story tower rises 1,396 feet above the iconic Manhattan skyline from the marble clad Porte Chochere entrance. Residents enjoy 30,000 square feet of amenities, including a lounge, private restaurant, outdoor terrace for dining and events, 75-foot indoor swimming pool, fitness center and spa with sauna, steam, and massage rooms, library, billiards room, screening / performance venue, conference room, children's playroom and yoga studio. In-suite dining and room service, concierge, 24-hour doorman, onsite parking garage and valet services will be provided by the building's staff. Additionally, all amenity spaces have ceiling heights up to 28'.

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monbebe26-monstax · 4 years

Text

Growth (Part 2)

(Part 1)

Everyone had slowly trickled out as you kneeled on the floor rolling your mat into a tighter circle so that it would fit back into your bag, the third time the charm as you managed to wiggle it into the small bag. Wonho had left as soon as class ended after wishing everyone a wonderful day and you assumed he had changed his mind but as soon as the others were gone and the door closed behind the last attendee he emerged through the side door again.

“Sorry, they won’t leave if I stay out here.”

You smile weakly as he moves to take the spot on the floor next to you.

“This is your first time taking a class isn’t it?” He asks. His tone isn’t accusatory, but curious.

“Yes.”

He nods, dragging his hand down the side of his face. “Which means this is your first yoga class.”

“I told them I had no experience with yoga and asked for them to put me in a beginner level.”

He nods, “it is a beginner level.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” you mutter and he studies you over more intrigued by you each passing second.

A smirk tugs at his lips. You were feisty, he liked that. Most of the women in the class tripped over being complacent with him and many, if not all, no longer belonged in his class, but they refused to advance up to another instructor and hardly anyone was signing up for beginner levels which meant this kept his income steady so he went with it.

“I know. I should have toned it down some. A lot of the participants have been in my class for well over a year. They are not beginners, I’ve almost forgotten what it is like to have a beginner in my class.”

“I can change to evenings and take another instructor’s class if you would like. I don’t have to take a morning class or your class if you don’t want me to anymore.” You say starting to grab your bag and water bottle. Your cheeks beginning to turn pink with embarrassment yet again.

He shakes his head, immediately reaching out to catch your wrist to stop you from getting up.

“That’s not what I am trying to say. I am trying to explain why my class may have felt more difficult than it was said to have been. I also want to offer you something else so that you stay and learn. Yoga helps with stress and it if done right can help clear your mind.”

“That’s why I’m here,” you whisper before gently pulling your wrist from his grip. “And it wouldn’t hurt to tone up a little.”

He frowns a little before nodding. “Okay. I can recommended someone in the evening if you would rather change your schedule instead of hearing me out.”

You study him, lifting an eyebrow at the challenging tone he was using. He rests his elbows on his thighs, staring at you.

“So…”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

He grins before glancing around the room and then turning back to you. “My mornings are full of classes, but I have a spot open in the evenings and there is a smaller room we can use if you want to take a beginner session without all the others that are above your level right now and once you feel you are at their level you can always come back to this class if you want. The rates will stay the same and it’ll give me a chance to refresh myself on teaching beginners again. I also don’t want any of my students uncomfortable and I can tell you are.”

You frown, “I’m that obvious?”

“A little,” he says, his tone gentle. He wants to touch you again, offer you comfort, but he knows it would only drive you into being more against learning.

You look at him, searching him over for any ulterior motive. He doesn’t give anything away, knowing if he even said another word it would just create more anxiety in you and that was the last thing he wanted to do as your instructor. He could see someone hurt you and he could see the giant walls you had built around yourself, and most of all he could see the fragments of your broken spirit reflecting in your eyes. He wanted to fix you and yoga was the way he was going to do it.

“Okay, what time?”

“6pm okay?”

You nod glancing as the door opens and a head peeks in. It was the girl at the front desk. She flashes you both a smile.

“Ready for your next class?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you Beth.” Wonho says getting to his feet. He offers you a hand and pulls you to your feet.

“See you tonight, okay?” He says once you both begin to walk to the door, but as soon as you agree he turns and gos back through the side door. You look at it confused.

“His office is in there.” Beth explains as you step and out and see more beautiful women waiting to go in. You duck your head following her back to the front. “And those are all of his loyal lapdogs,” she giggles putting a pen back in its holder. “So, how was your first session?”

“Good. I am not on their level,” you mutter before side eyeing the shining line of women after they had all started to enter the studio. “But I’ll learn.”

“Cool,” she beams. You smile at her before wishing her well and heading out to get some work done before coming back later.

(Part 3)

#Monsta X #monsta x wonho #monsta x au #wonho #wonho au

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crimedesert2-blog · 4 years

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (3/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Shoutout to my spectacular beta @resident-of-storybrooke 🧡 I’m the worst writer and send her multiple chapters at a time instead of just the one, and she gets things back to me in record time!

We get some background information on Emma in this chapter to further set up the story, and I thank you for reading! I’m really, really excited about a lot of the things I have planned for this story!

I promise they interact in all chapters after this

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 |

Tag list: @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“What are you getting David for his birthday?”

Emma looks to her right where Ruby is stretched out on her yoga mat, doing a stretch that definitely isn’t anything that’s taught in a certified class. She can’t tell if she’s gotten stuck that way or if she’s simply given up on getting some early morning exercise. They really have to start going back to spin class sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow.

“I bought him some new dress shirts.”

“That’s boring.”

“Have you not gotten him anything, Rubes?” She swipes her blush against her cheek waiting for Ruby to answer. She doesn’t. “The party is tonight. You know that, right? And we’re about to be at work all day editing.”

“Why do you think I’m asking so that I have time to get Graham to go get something on his lunch break?”

“You have no shame.”

Ruby falls onto her mat, star fishing out on the floor before propping herself up on her elbows, her bun coming undone so that it hangs messily on her shoulders. “I know. So, what should I buy him? He’s turning forty. Is he having a midlife crisis? Should I get him some hair dye?”

“Only if you want to be murdered.”

Ruby grunts before rising from her mat and stretching out. “Eh, it might be worth it. I think I’ll just get him a Shake Shack gift card. I’m not his sister. I can get away with a semi-shitty gift.”

She chuckles as she grabs her brush for her bronzer and runs it across her cheekbone, blending it in. “It’s not semi-shitty if he takes us to lunch with it.”

“True. Alright,” Ruby claps, picking her mat up, “I’m going to go shower, and then we can go to work. Ten minutes tops.”

It’s twenty minutes, which is actually less time than Emma was expecting, before she and Ruby walk out of their apartment, walking the three blocks to their train station and swiping their metro cards to get through the gate so they can take the ten-minute ride to the studios. They rarely have to go into the actual offices before ten. The only time they have to be at work earlier than that is when there’s an early game and they have to make their way across Manhattan to get to the fields. That’s a bit of a bigger commute. But this morning the weather is relatively nice, the trains aren’t crowded or full of people in T-rex costumes, and she and Ruby get to the office and through security before they have to be there.

She leaves Ruby on the seventh floor before going up to the tenth to the editing room, her eyes having to adjust from the brightness outside to the dim lights inside the room that’s really only lit by screens.

“Anton, how the hell do you live in the sunlight after staying in here all day?”

Anton twists in his chair to look at her before turning back to the screen that he’s working on, clicking on a few keys as he speaks. “It’s only dark right now because I’m trying to get the lighting right on this edit. Something is wrong with the shadows. Get Ash to set you up. You’ve got over eight hours of footage to go through, so this probably isn’t going to get finished today.”

“He’s only talking in about an hour and a half of that.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to get the filler and then your notes. It’s a whole thing when you have a big segment like this. You’ll get used to it.”

She nods even though Anton isn’t paying any attention to her, before stepping into the room and around some of the editors she’s never worked with until she’s sitting down at Ashley’s workstation, picking up the pair of headphones that she uses and rolling up to the screen as she watches Ashely piece together several clips to promote whatever tennis tournament is going on right now. She thinks it’s the one in Palm Springs, but she hasn’t really been able to keep up with things lately.

“Sorry about that,” Ashley apologizes, flashing her a smile. “Alexandria had a late night last night, and I didn’t get into work in time to finish this up until you got here. But now my attention is all yours.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s teething is all. It’s miserable for all of us.”

“I bet. I remember when Leo was teething. David aged about fifteen years.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs, patting Ashley’s arm. “I won’t tell you any other stories about miserable babies. Let’s talk the interview.”

Ashley nods and clicks around on her computer until she’s pulling up Emma’s file, all of the hours of footage broken down. Emma has a basic understanding of how all of this works, but it’s mostly above her knowledge and paygrade. That’s why she’s glad to have people like Ashley and Anton, especially when they can easily throw out shaky or unusable footage to narrow things down even more. She tells Ashley that she wants to work on the main interview first, to make sure she can show all of the pieces she wants, and then they’ll work on finding the filler footage and the music to be played in the background. This is the first time Emma has ever worked on an edited segment that’s more than one minute, so it’s all a whole new world to her.

“This is good,” Ashley murmurs, her voice a small whisper outside of the headphones. “Like, really good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be this open before.”

“Jones? Jones is an open book.”

Her brows raise before settling back down at a regular height. “You are literally the most knowledgeable person on this subject in this building, and you think that Jones is an open book?”

“I mean, yeah. He’s baseball player, first and foremost. He’s young, hot, likes to spend his money and go out with every woman with big boobs and a pulse.”

Ashley actually laughs at that, rolling back in her chair before rewinding the video to a part where Killian is talking about his nieces and how they collect bobble heads, particularly his, and scatter them throughout their house for their parents to have to pick up. Emma remembers laughing at that, remembers thinking it’s sweet, but she’s not entirely sure why Ashley is showing it to her again.

“I know you probably hate him for asking you out like that, which was kind of a dick move, but anyone with eyes can tell he’s a sweet guy. I mean, he spent his injury break learning how to bake and sitting with his nieces so that they didn’t have to go to daycare. Yeah, he kind of had a period where he was pictured with a lot of girls, but that was when he was twenty-four and on top of the world. I mean, when you were twenty-four, you’re telling me you wouldn’t have been all over a pretty baseball player if you met him in a bar?”

“I hated all men at twenty-four.”

Ashely shakes her head from side to side, chuckling at her again. Emma hates to admit it, but Ashley is right. She knows that he’s not a bad guy, that’s not some sleazy player. No, he did not make the best decisions in asking her out last year, but in a move that surprised her, he very kindly apologized. And she really should not judge him over that time when he was pictured with girls all the time. For one, he probably dates as much as every other guy, but his dates happen to be publicized. She hates when women are shamed for dating, and here she is judging someone else.

His incessant flirting in all of his interviews and him asking her out have likely framed her view on him when she should know better than to judge by what appears on the surface.

She should also know better than to let a few pretty words make her trust someone.

“I met Sean at twenty-four.”

Emma sighs, curving her lips into a smile before patting Ashely’s arm. “And you two are wonderful. Let’s keep editing before we get distracted by you showing me a million baby pictures.”

“Dammit, Emma,” Anton groans from his seat, “the first rule of the editing room is that you don’t talk about baby pictures.”

After letting Ashley show her new pictures of Alexandra and those adorable chubby cheeks, they finally get around to some more editing, cutting questions that have repeated answers and editing out Emma’s laugh or weird coughing sounds so that she doesn’t look like a total maniac. There’s this part in the film where Killian is standing with his back to the camera and in front of a large set of windows that show off the field, and it looks like it could be a part of the Hall of Fame. It’s a gorgeous shot, and it’s where he’s talking about his hopes and dreams for baseball as well as wanting to get to live a normal life full of everything that his brother has.

Frankly, it’s beautiful enough to make her tear up.

They may just be her, though. As much as sports are about the statistics, about the executions, it’s also about the emotions. In the grand scheme of life, a baseball game doesn’t matter. These men getting paid millions of dollars to play a game don’t change the world. Except that they do. People live and die by the game, by the unpredictability, by the fact that it’s human beings out there pushing their bodies to limits that most people can’t reach. It takes everyone away from the world for a bit, lets them cheer for a happy ending, and even though the losses can be crushing, for just that little while, people feel hope.

Killian Jones coming back from injury, no matter how minor, to win the World Series, gave people hope.

It’s that thought process that guides her in helping Ashley and Anton edit the segment, and even though they only get about halfway through editing, they stop for the day so that Ashley can go home to her family and Anton to his while she walks down three flights of stairs to get to her office shoved into the corner of the corporate floor. There’s literally not even room in there for her to have an extra chair for someone to sit with her, but considering how little time she spends there now, that doesn’t matter. And it’s a step up from the cubicles.

Damn, her segment is going to be good.

This is…she knows she complained about it, and for the right reasons, but this is huge for her career. Right now, she’s more than happy doing post-game interviews and the occasional mid-game updates, but one day she might want to commentate or have her own show. One day she might want to move onto things other than sports. She’s getting ahead of herself, she knows. She simply can’t help it.

She’s excited, and she actually can’t wait to come into work tomorrow to get it all finished.

After sending a text to Ruby asking her if she’s almost ready to go, she logs into her computer and waits for her email to load, figuring she might as well get some more work done while she waits. Ruby’s timing at work is always so unpredictable when they’re not working together, so she has absolutely no idea when they’ll be able to leave to get on the train to Astoria. If only David was in the office today.

She doesn’t have much to sort through, just a few emails asking about the segment, another few talking about food that’s available in the office (she really hates that she missed those), and then another two from Walsh that she immediately deletes. They could be work related, but they’re most likely not.

Dating someone she works with was an absolutely horrible idea that she’ll probably never do again. Walsh is definitely an asshole, one that’s worse than all of the others, but he kind of ruined that workplace peace that she had for awhile. They’d both been stat checkers together, spent their days going blind reading spreadsheets and becoming friends, and when they both got promotions to journalists (ones who actually got to write articles) at the same time, she was pretty sure that it was fate or something crazy like that. They got to have the same job, the same schedule, and she was in that phase of infatuation in a new relationship that it made her stomach constantly feel like it was in those pleasantly painful knots.

Then she interviewed and auditioned for the on-air job to work with the Yankees.

It’s a moment that’s changed her life in an immeasurable amount of ways, but the first and most obvious – before Killian Jones 2k18 – was that her boyfriend of over a year resented her. He resented her, belittled her for what she did for a living, and it all felt so painstakingly familiar that she had to break up with him before he damaged her beyond repair too.

The fact that he was cheating definitely helped that decision.

So for him to still work under one hundred feet away from her in the office and still send her emails on a regular basis is a pretty big sting.

There is no one who got more enjoyment out of her being asked out on live television than Walsh Osborne.

Ruby: I am in the bathroom curling my hair. Meet you by the seventh floor receptionist desk in ten.

Emma: Where did you get a curling iron?

Ruby: The makeup room in the studio.

Of course she did.

Closing out her computer and slipping her booties back on, she leaves her office and locks it up before making her way through the cubicles, specifically going out of her way to avoid Walsh’s desk since she knows he’s still in the office, and waits by the receptionist area with David’s present in her hand. There’s no one sitting there, all of the calls being forwarded through the machine, and she idly wonders where in the world Jacob is.

“We have got to get whatever curling iron it is they use in hair and makeup,” Ruby sighs as she walks into the room, heels that she was not wearing this morning now on her feet and her hair curled into perfectly styled waves. “Seriously, it’s fantastic.”

“It’s, like, over three hundred dollars.”

“We can split it. You ready to go? Graham is going to meet us there.”

“Does he have David’s present?”

“Yep.” Ruby loops her arm through Emma’s elbow, pulling her closer, before walking toward the elevators. “He wins the award for the best boyfriend today.”

“Who is he in competition with?”

“Your non-existent boyfriend.”

She pinches Ruby’s arm, but she doesn’t say anything as the elevator opens and they walk inside. It’s always such a pain to go to David and Mary Margaret’s townhome from the office, if only because of the amount of times they have to switch trains, but it gives she and Ruby time to talk about their days and scroll through their phone, checking up on everything that they’ve missed while working.

(She usually finds time to look while at work. Knowing what’s happening in baseball players’ lives is important to her job, right? It doesn’t make her creepy if they put it online.)

Plus, it’s a Friday afternoon, and that’s always the best time to see people dressed in odd costumes and eating full on turkeys on the subway.

Seriously. That happened once. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving.

By the time they get to the townhouse, it’s past six, and she can see cars parked up and down the street, Mary Margaret’s SUV sitting right in front of their home. She insists on driving everywhere, even when she comes into Manhattan, and Emma will never understand that. But she guesses that they live a bit outside of the most crowded parts of the city and the Mary Margaret is always toting Leo around to school and soccer practice or moving all of her crafts that she takes to her classroom. Emma loves her sister-in-law (it’s easier to say than foster mom’s son’s wife), but she is one of those people whose entire life could be found on a Pinterest board where Emma is more thrift store mashup even with her life being more established lately.

Not that there’s anything wrong with living life like that. It’s simply not Emma’s cup of tea.

“So, how many fortieth birthday themed things do you think Mary Margaret has in their house?”

“I mean, obviously forty.”

“Obviously.”

Graham is sitting on the front steps when they walk up, a small envelope in his hand as he stares down at his phone, and Ruby whistles, making him actually jump from his seat.

“What the hell?” he grumbles, clutching his hand and the envelope over his heart. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“It depends. Am I the beneficiary of your life insurance plan?”

“Oh my God,” Emma chuckles, shaking her head from side to side as she adjusts the box underneath her arm. “You two are disturbed.”

“Only my girlfriend is.” He stands from the steps and moves closer to quickly press his lips against Ruby’s. “You two ready to go inside?”

“Were you too scared to go inside without us, babe?”

“If I’m honest, yes. I’m not entirely sure what kind of party awaits us.”

“You and me both.”

Emma steps up the stairs and opens the door, knowing that it’s unlocked and that she can just let herself in. She immediately hears the sound of people talking, most noticeably Leo in his high-pitched voice, but everything looks as normal as it always does. The living room is still neatly arranged, a mixture of white and gray furniture, most of it antique, all scattered throughout. The dining room has place settings arranged, but no one sitting there, so she walks to the back of the home where the kitchen is to find everyone all standing around the island eating off of the veggie place that’s set out.

Huh. So maybe David turning forty means that everything is low-key. That’s a refreshing change of pace.

“Emma,” Leo screeches when he sees her, hopping down from the countertop and running toward her, pushing her back with the force of his hug.

“Hey, kid,” she laughs as she moves David’s present so that she can hug Leo back. He’s getting so big, is nearly as tall as she is now, and he’s only ten. She can’t imagine what he’s going to be like when he gets older. She doesn’t really want to. She’s that aunt who gushes about remembering the day that her nephew was born and grossing him out by talking about it. “Why are you letting all of these people eat my food?”

“Because you don’t like vegetables.”

“I definitely do.”

“You never eat collards, and I always have to.”

“Well, that’s because I don’t like collards.”

Leo scrunches up his nose, his face twisted in disgust like he’s eating those collards, before he grabs her hand and starts trying to tug her back to the entryway. “Come on, Emma, I want to show you my new Captain America shield.”

“I’ve got to go say hi to your parents, but why don’t you go get it and bring it down to show me?”

“Okay.”

He nods his head and then runs upstairs, his footsteps loud, and she turns back toward the kitchen to start talking to people who most likely don’t have Captain America shields in their bedroom. Well, they could. He’s kind of a big deal.

America’s ass and all that.

David is swiping a carrot through a bit of dip, and she takes the opportunity to put her present on the table before wrapping her arms around David’s stomach. He’s so incredibly warm, as always, and she appreciates the solid nature of him as his hand comes up to cup the back of her head, his lips pressing into her hairline.

“Happy birthday, old man.”

“Excuse me. I am in the prime of my life.”

She rolls her eyes, unable to help herself before pulling back and patting his chest. “Sure, if you think so.”

“I do. I’m glad you made it today.”

“And miss your birthday so that I have to hear it every day at work? Never.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“It would,” Ruby adds in. “It would be one of those things that you’d bring up every opportunity you get. You’d feed it into her earpiece while she was on air so that she’d do that thing with her nose where it scrunches up all weird to make her look like a mouse.”

“I do not do that.”

“You do, sweetie,” Mary Margaret adds in, opening up the refrigerator and grabbing a bowl of what Emma sincerely hopes is Mary Margaret’s pasta salad. “It’s so, but it does make you look like a mouse. Or like you smelled something bad.”

“Well, I am next to a bunch of sweaty men. I could smell something bad.”

“True.”

“And Ruby, you can’t say anything. You talk in my earpiece all of the time.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to talk about assess in pinstripes.”

“Eh,” she protests, clicking her tongue and tilting her head to the side. “I think it might be.”

“I’m sorry,” a woman Emma doesn’t know says, breaking Emma out of their little bubble to remember that there are other people in this house. “What is it that you do?”

“Oh,” she sighs, her mouth suddenly dry. She’s not conceited, she doesn’t think, but it’s been awhile since she met someone who wasn’t in her circle and didn’t know about her job. “I’m a reporter for the Yankees. Emma Swan. It’s nice to meet you – ”

“Jasmine Anwar. I teach with Mary Margaret.”

“She’s my teacher,” Leo adds in, running back in the room with a shield that’s nearly bigger than his body. “But I get to call her Miss Jasmine when she’s here, which is super cool because my friends don’t get to do that.”

“That’s our secret, though, Leo.”

“I know, I know. Emma, look at my shield.”

“Leo, it’s time to eat,” Mary Margaret says. “You can show off your shield afterwards, okay?”

“I thought we were eating cake afterwards.”

“We are.”

“So, when can I show off my shield?”

“After the cake, Leo,” David sighs before clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat.”

Inside the bowl was, indeed, Mary Margaret’s pasta salad, and in the oven was a tray of baked chicken, rolls, and macaroni and cheese. It’s the kind of meal that Ruth would make on the weekend or whenever David came home for a holiday, and for someone who eats cereal and Chinese takeout when Graham doesn’t feel like cooking, this is absolutely the best case scenario for her.

Thank goodness for David turning forty and Mary Margaret deciding to keep it low key with just a few friends instead of everyone from both of their offices.

(His thirtieth birthday was insane, especially when she thinks about the fact that Mary Margaret planned it while seven months pregnant.)

Most of the conversation halts with everyone eating, just a few murmurs here and there, but then Ruby gets a glass of wine in here – possibly two – and while Ruby can deal with liquor no problem, red wine gets to her. It’s the strangest thing, but Ruby’s already loose filter becomes, well, looser.

“No, do you guys remember the time,” Ruby hiccups, sipping on her drink while Emma very gracefully shovels more macaroni and cheese into her mouth, “that we were out in LA for work, and David nearly got arrested for walking out of a Walmart with a boxed fan because he threw away the receipt at self-checkout and they checked him at the door?”

“This is not that great of a story, Ruby,” David huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his beer bottle up to his lips.

“But it is,” Graham protests. “It was a twenty-dollar fan, man. All you had to do was pay for it again, but instead you were one more protest away from getting taken off to jail.”

“I paid for the damn fan. It was on the security video.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she slides her plate onto the coffee table, “but we only know that because you literally demanded to speak to the manager, had to sweet talk your way into the security office, and we spent three hours inside that building all because you can’t sleep without a fan in the room.”

“To be fair, you and I did have a great time while we were waiting. We bought that purple hair dye and streaked your hair.”

“Which was really dumb because I had to be on camera the next day.”

“It washed out.”

“Really? Because I swear I still have purple in my hair if it’s in the right light.”

She tugs at strands of her hair to prove a point while laughter bubbles in her stomach. God, she loves her friends. They’re the actual best. She doesn’t know how she got lucky enough to have them in her life.

“Your purple streaks are probably what made Jones ask you out. He saw that you had a wild side and couldn’t pass that opportunity up.”

She takes that thing about loving her friends back.

She groans, sinking down further into the couch and wishing that she had Leo’s Captain America shield to hide her face so that no one can see the blush that’s rising from her cheeks. Today is apparently a day to bring this up once every hour. It might as well go on her grave stone at this point.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic.

It can at least go in her obituary.

That doesn’t make it any better.

“Emma, can you get me Killian Jones’s autograph?” Leo questions, looking up at her from where he’s very enthusiastically scarfing down another plate of macaroni. He’s not going to have any room for cake at this rate.

“I’m not sure if I can, kid.”

“But you know him! He asked you on a date!”

She’s going to dye all of her hair purple, change her name, and move countries. That’s even more dramatic, but she seems to be on a role with being dramatic tonight.

Italy would be nice. There’s lots of pasta there.

“I’ll ask, kid.”

“I want it on a hat.”

“Leo,” Mary Margaret scolds, “use your manners.”

“I want it on a hat please,” he corrects before shoveling more food in his mouth. “Can we have cake now?”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #Captain Swan #captain swan fic

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cycwrites · 5 years

Text

Switching Gears Part 2 - W.T.F. Just Happened?

Words: 4683

Rating: M (Eventually. I think.)

Tumblr Master Post

Also on AO3 and FFN

As always, thanks to @tiny-maus-boots for all the Beta’ing and support.

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

~S~

“I’m sorry, you need what?”

Stacie paced in front of Chloe’s desk. “Bolt cutters. Some crazy woman just locked my bike to one of the racks with her chain.” She was still seething over the absolute insanity of it.

She’d walked outside and blinked stupidly at the second chain wrapped above hers. Looking up she’d searched the crowd around her before her eyes locked on the blonde from earlier. Who then had the fucking nerve to smile at her and ring the bell on her handlebars as she rode off.

Stacie could still hear the trill of it in her head and every time it echoed it took on an increasingly mocking edge. Needless to say any zen she’d gotten from her yoga class was rapidly dissipating.

When she’d double checked that the lock was indeed in place and she couldn’t just unwrap the damn thing, she’d stormed back into the building, people parting before her like a wave. She’d made her way straight to Chloe’s office to get the bolt cutters kept on hand for locks left on lockers.

Chloe watched her, confused. “Why would she do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Chlo!” Stacie threw her arms up in the air. “Because she’s fucking nuts?”

“She just… randomly chose you out of the several dozen bikes that are out there at any given moment?” Chloe tried to be neutral but Stacie could hear the amusement layered under it.

“She accused me of ‘taking her spot’.” Stacie stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Like it had her name on it. Said she’d been waiting for whoever had been there to leave, like it’s a parking lot at the mall.” Stacie’s hands shot into the air again. “I didn’t see anyone else in that spot for the three minutes it took me to ride up and get off my bike. Then suddenly this blonde woman who had been on her phone like ten feet away is yelling ‘That’s my spot!’”

Chloe twisted her lips like she was trying to keep from laughing. “Oh.”

“That’s it?” Stacie stared at her. “Just ‘oh’?”

“What else am I supposed to say, Stacie? ‘Let’s track her down and call the law on her?’” She grinned but Stacie was still too pissed off to find it funny.

“Do you think that’d work?” Stacie muttered.

“No.” Chloe said, still showing a complete lack of concern. “But I am tempted to look back through the security footage to find out who has you so riled up.”

“Would you ban her for life?” Stacie resumed her pacing, too agitated to be still.

“Stacie.” Chloe chided.

“You’re too nice a person.” Stacie accused.

“And I don’t want to get a bad reputation now that Stretch has finally become noticed.” Chloe watched her. “Please sit down, you’re making me want to get up and pace with you.”

Grudgingly Stacie took a seat. “One person wouldn’t – “

“One bad review and the whole thing could fall apart,” Chloe interrupted. “You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”

Deflating slightly, even though she knew that Chloe was exaggerating on purpose, Stacie slumped in her chair. “No.” The two of them had been best friends since middle school and Stacie would never do anything that could potentially hurt Chloe’s dream.

Chloe had been working non-stop for the past four years to have Stretch It Out become a central point for almost all fitness needs. What started out as a dance studio, with her as the only instructor, had grown to encompass so much more: Spin classes, yoga, aerobics, dancercise – which Stacie still rolled her eyes at; ‘What’s next, that whole horse prancing thing, Chlo?’ – and she was hoping to hire a CrossFit trainer by the end of the year. Stacie was trying to convince Chloe to hire a self-defense instructor and/or someone who could teach kickboxing; she’d always wanted to learn and if she could do it cheaper thanks to her lifetime bestie discount it was even better.

“Aw, you do love me.” Chloe stood up from her chair and walked over to stroke her hand along Stacie’s hair. “Come on, I still wanna see the mystery woman.” She leaned down and grabbed Stacie’s hand and tugged. “Bolt cutters are in Security anyway.”

With a sigh, Stacie let herself be pulled to her feet. “Fiiiiine.” She followed Chloe down the hall to the door unobtrusively marked ‘Video’. “But if you’re not going to let me try and press charges I don’t know what the big deal is.”

“That’s okay ,” Chloe shrugged and opened the door with her key. “You don’t have to.” She waved Stacie in. “After you.”

“So kind,” Stacie rolled her eyes then smiled at the woman sitting in front of a station of five monitors. “Hey, Amy.”

“Skyscraper.” The Australian nodded at her. “How’s the weather up there?”

“Nothin’ but blue sky, Ames.” Stacie leaned against a filing cabinet.

Amy nodded at Chloe as she shut the door behind them. “Boss.”

“Can you pull up the camera for the racks in front and run it back about…” Chloe trailed off and looked at Stacie who checked her watch.

“What?” Amy interrupted before she could answer, looking at Chloe with confusion. “You can do that?”

Chloe stared at her for several seconds. “You’ve been here a year and you didn’t know that?” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me again why I hired you?”

Amy clicked her tongue. “You gotta keep me around so people remember why they’re here.”

“Amy!” Chloe gasped as Stacie frowned. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“What, are you saying I’m not hot?” Amy eyed her carefully. “That’s why people do all these classes of yours, don’t they? To be hot?”

Stacie couldn’t help but smile. She was confident but no one was as confident as Amy. “You’re absolutely right, Amy.”

“Right.” Amy nodded at her. “Maybe I should read the manual…” She turned her chair to look at the thick binder resting on the desk next to her.

“Maybe,” Chloe said dryly. “But for now, let me in there so I can check the feeds.” Amy pushed her chair out of the way but made no move to stand.

Stacie could see that Chloe almost asked for the chair and decided against it. Instead she just stood in front of the console and looked back at Stacie. “After yoga class?” She clicked a button and the front entrance camera filled the center, and biggest, monitor.

“Yeah, after my shower.” Stacie scowled at the screen as Chloe turned a dial and the image began to run backward.

“You were naked with someone in the shower?” Amy asked teasingly from behind them. “I didn’t think Chloe allowed that kind of –”

“No!” Stacie cut her off and crossed her arms. “I did not have anyone in my cubicle with me.”

“Pity.”

“Found it!” Chloe suddenly said and Stacie’s eyes darted back to the monitor, now paused on the image of the uptight blonde kneeling by Stacie’s bike, chain through Stacie’s front tire. “Oh…”

Stacie turned sharply. “Oh?” Chloe’s tone had been somewhere between surprised and amused and it caught her attention.

Chloe chewed on her lower lip and Stacie couldn’t tell if it was in worry or to hide a grin. “That’s Aubrey.”

Bemused despite the slight renewal of her anger, Stacie half grinned at her friend. “Seriously, do you know everyone?”

‘Aubrey.’ Stacie rolled it over in her mind. ‘Why does that name sound familiar?’

“A good business owner is friendly and gets to know their clientele, Stacie.” Chloe said absently, her eyes still on the monitor as she let it run forward again. “But…”

It finally clicked and Stacie snapped her fingers, making both Chloe and Amy jump. “That’s her!” She pointed an accusing finger at Chloe. “That’s the hottie from spin class, isn’t it?” She frowned. “Wait, she rides her bike here, takes a spin class and then rides home or whatever? Isn’t that… overkill? She’s clearly even more insane than I thought.” She looked back at the screen. “Maybe her broom is in the shop.” Her eyes narrowed on the hand that had just lifted from the bell; even though there was no sound Stacie could still hear it ringing. “I’m going to steal that fucking bell.”

Without looking Chloe lightly poked her in the stomach. “Well, yes. That’s… her.” Chloe looked up at Stacie. “I’ve never heard her having any sort of altercation with anyone before.” She faced the desk and turned the dial, the image once more going in reverse.

“Gee, my lucky day.” Stacie resisted the urge to pace again.

“What’s the matter, you fancy her?” Amy said as she twisted lightly back and forth in the chair.

“I fancy strangling her.” Stacie muttered.

“Didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff.” Amy whistled appreciatively. “I now see you in a whole new light.”

“I don’t… that’s not…” Stacie stared at her. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re also not actually saying you’re not.” Amy nodded. “But I get it, you’re embarrassed. You shouldn’t be. We like what we like.” She tilted her head and Stacie began to wonder if she was dreaming. “Though, if Chloe likes the blonde, I don’t know if you should go poaching.” She put her hand to the side of her mouth and whispered, “At least not when she’s around to see you do it.”

Stacie’s mouth worked but all she could come up with was “I would never go after someone Chloe likes.”

“Tyler Winston.” Chloe paused the feed again as she turned and leaned her hip against the security desk, a smirk on her lips.

“He doesn’t count,” Stacie said indignantly. “I had just moved to town and had no idea you had your baby blues on him!” She put her hands on her hips. “We weren’t even friends then!”

Chloe tilted her head from side to side, considering. “Alright. That’s fair.”

“See? I would nev–”

“Kasie Carson.” Chloe cut her off.

“C’mon, Chlo.” Stacie groaned. “She was hot and I was a hormonal teenager.”

“Like that’s any different now.” Chloe turned to Amy. “Kasie was one of the members of our high school dance team. She transferred in from another school – by that time Stacie and I had moved past Tyler and had become best friends – and she was raven haired and gorgeous.”

“Did you ever smash that?” The Australian looked between them.

“No.” Chloe said and Stacie echoed it.

“No, because after Tyler we made a pact not to go after anyone we both liked.” Stacie threw her hands in the air. “Which I have never done, as you well know.”

“So you guys have been friends for a while then?” Amy leaned back in her chair.

“Oh, totes.” Chloe grinned at her. “Since seventh grade. In high school we were inseparable; we took the same classes, the same extra-curricular activities.”

“Like dance team.” Amy nodded slowly, looking between them. “I see.” Stacie knew there was more she wanted to say when her lips pursed.

“Any time we had competitions away we always shared a dinky hotel room.” Stacie offered, more to see where Amy would go with it though she was pretty sure she had an idea.

“So you slept in the same bed.” Amy nodded sagely. “I see,” she said again, one eyebrow arching up.

“Yeah.” Chloe nodded back at her then frowned. “Not sexually.” Stacie waited, knowing it was coming. “Well, there was that one time.” Chloe turned and winked at her.

Stacie shrugged but smiled back. They’d decided to see if there was anything more between them and while the night had been... amazing… they’d both decided they worked better as friends. Nothing had changed between them; if anything it had deepened their friendship.

And, okay, maybe they’d had a handful of such encounters over the years when they were single and the mood struck them, but that certainly wasn’t any of Amy’s business. They had fun together but neither of them had ever talked about it being anything more. She supposed she ought to examine that one day, but for now it was enough that she knew the two of them would always be together even if they weren’t together.

“But now tall, dark and gorgeous wants your spin class hottie.” Amy interrupted her thoughts as Chloe turned back to the controls.

“Yes.” Chloe said over her shoulder, still grinning.

“No.” Stacie said over her, with enforced patience. “I am not asking out the crazy lady!”

“Then why are we looking into the footage?” Amy asked, almost reasonably. “And why is she crazy?”

“Because she locked my bike to the rack with her chain.” It didn’t get any less surreal the more she said it. “I need the bolt cutters, by the way.”

Amy jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “In the closet.” She moved to push herself up but Stacie waved her down.

“I got it, no big.” She moved to the door and opened the closet, digging around until she found the heavy duty cutters.

“And here is the first encounter. This oughta be interesting.” Chloe resumed playback on the video and zoomed as much as the system would let her. “Boy, she does look pissed.”

“She sounded it too.” Stacie studied the screen, the image clearer than she would’ve expected.

“You could you know.” Chloe said absently and Stacie turned her attention away from the monitor as their encounter continued.

“Could what? Press charges?” While she was still pissed, Stacie was over the worst of it. “Nah. It’d cost more than it’d be worth.”

“No,” Chloe turned to face her. “Ask her out.”

“I don’t want to ask her out,” Stacie said, waving the hand not holding the bolt cutters.

“You know nothing ever happened between Aubrey and me. And I’m not an insecure teenager anymore. It never happened. Or she wasn’t interested.”

“Because you never asked her out,” Stacie countered. “Anyone with eyes is interested in you, Chlo.”

“Timing.” Chloe shrugged. “Never seemed right.” Chloe had first mentioned Aubrey a year ago and Stacie kept waiting for the details of their first date but it had never happened. Chloe hadn’t wanted to seem like she was hitting on the clientele and Stacie couldn’t believe Aubrey hadn’t asked her out. Of course now that she knew Aubrey was crazy it made more sense and she figured Chloe had dodged a bullet.

“Excuse me.” Amy interjected and they both turned to look at her but she was watching the screen. “But what did you say to her right then?”

Chloe ran the footage back, both of them having tuned it out while they talked. “Oh. No, I was wrong before. Now she looks pissed.”

Stacie thought for a second and then laughed. “I told her she should try yoga, it might help her unclench.”

“Oh, Stretch.” Amy shook her head. “That’s not how you woo a woman.”

“I WASN’T TRYING TO WOO HER!” Stacie yelled.

“Alright, alright.” Amy patted the air. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, jeeze.”

“Stacie,” Chloe pulled her attention back. “Then what did you say to her?”

“I said…” Stacie stopped abruptly as her words came back. “Nothing. Why?”

“Because whatever it was, I’m shocked you’re not dead from the glare she just gave you.” Chloe paused the footage and smirked at her. “So?”

“Yeah, spill.” Amy joined in.

Stacie tried to shrug nonchalantly. “That she’d be cuter if her face wasn’t pinched.” There was no way she was giving them the rest of it. She didn’t even know why she’d said it – except it was true. Somehow the way the other woman – Aubrey’s – nostrils had flared the angrier she got was… cute. And, now that she wasn’t being yelled at, Stacie could admit Aubrey was an attractive woman; toned arms and legs, glossy blonde hair, exactly the kind of woman that Stacie – and Chloe – would be attracted to.

Except she was also just nuttier than a fruitcake.

“She is cute.” Amy agreed. “When are you going to ask her out?”

“Oh my god.” Stacie covered her face with her free hand. “Never.”

“You should.”

Stacie’s head snapped up at Chloe’s words. “Are you kidding me? Not only is she insane, she obviously hates me and will probably pop my tire if I’m ever in ‘her spot’ again.”

“You started assigning spots to the bike rack?” Amy pointed at Chloe. “I hope you don’t expect me to police that – it wasn’t part of my job requirement when I signed on.”

“I didn’t assign spots, Amy. It’s a long story.” Chloe held up her hand to stop Amy from speaking. “I’ll tell you later.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I don’t get nearly enough gossip.” Amy sighed. “It’s horrible being stuck in this room all day.”

“Amy.” Chloe shook her head. “You go hang out with Emily at the front desk all the time. All you two do is gossip.” She pressed another button and the monitors reset to live feeds.

“She’s good company.” Amy paused. “And really easy to tease.”

“You be nice to my cousin,” Stacie warned. “I don’t wanna have to kick your ass.”

“Yeah yeah.” Amy waved away the threat.

“C’mon, let’s go get your bike out of bondage.” Chloe put her hands on Stacie’s shoulders and turned her around.

Stacie just groaned as she let herself be led from the room and back through the halls until they reached the lobby and passed back outside into the late afternoon sun. “I still can’t believe this is a thing that happened.”

“You did seem to make a lasting impression on her,” Chloe said as she crouched and gave the chain a tug. “That’s a pretty heavy duty one too; probably cost her a pretty penny.” She tugged again. “It might take the two of us to cut it.”

“Think the lock would be easier?” Stacie ignored the looks they were getting from other people going in and out of the building.

“Nah. Locks are always worse.” Chloe stood back up. “Alright, let’s get it done.”

Between the two of them they were able to get enough force to cut through the chain though at one point Stacie thought they might have to go get Amy to help.

“Freedom!” Chloe yelled as the metal finally gave way.

“Thank god,” Stacie panted as she straightened up, stretching out her back. “Hunching over like that was starting to hurt.”

“Are you getting old?” Chloe shoulder bumped her.

“I’m younger than you,” Stacie replied automatically as she hefted the cut chain in her hands.

“Gimme, I’ll chuck it in the dumpster out back.” Chloe held out her hand and Stacie dropped the chain into it.

“Thanks. I’ll return the cutters to Amy.” Stacie lifted the tool to rest on her shoulder. “Thanks for the help, Chlo.”

“That’s what best friends are for.” Chloe said as they walked back inside, waving at Emily at the counter.

“And you’re the best.” Stacie paused outside Amy’s room. “But I am not asking out your hottie.”

“Notice I didn’t bring it up this time.” Chloe kept walking down the hall but turned to walk backwards, smug grin firmly in place. “You know – with all the denials… you haven’t actually said you weren’t interested…”

Stacie opened her mouth, firmly intending to unequivocally put an end to it once and for all, but what she said was, “Stop trying to set me up with crazy, Chlo.” She frowned at herself.

Chloe’s grin widened slowly like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, Stace. You don’t even see it.” Before Stacie could ask her what the hell she was talking about, Chloe turned with a laugh and headed toward the back of the building, the chain swinging lightly from her hand.

With an annoyed grunt at her departing friend, Stacie knocked on the security room door. “Ames, it’s me. Returning the bolt cutters.” After a moment the door opened a crack and Amy peered out at her for a moment before opening the door all the way.

“Got yourself out of bondage then?” Amy grinned at her and took the bolt cutters Stacie held out.

“I should’ve expected that,” Stacie shook her head. “Yes, thanks for your concern.”

“Any time.” Amy hefted the cutters. “If you piss off any more women who are into chains…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I want all the dirty details.”

“That’s…” Stacie sighed. “Goodbye, Amy.” She turned to go and caught sight of the binder sitting open on the desk. “You decided to give it a go?”

“Yeah.” Amy looked over her shoulder and then back at Stacie. “There’s some footage of me and my man in the shower after hours last week that maybe I don’t want the boss to see now that I know it records.” She shrugged. “Not that I’m ashamed, but she might not understand.”

By sheer force of will Stacie kept herself from laughing. “Nope, I get it. It’s doing her a favor, really.”

“Exactly!” Amy stepped back and started closing the door. “I knew you would understand, what with the whole chains thing and all.”

“Right.” Stacie turned and paused as a thought came to her. “But… there are no cameras in the showers or locker room?”

“We may not have stayed in the shower the whole time…” Amy pursed her lips. “Sometimes passion cannot be contained to one room.”

“Right…” Stacie said again, nodding slowly and firmly telling herself not to allow that image to form. She’d met Bumper and she’d never be able to look at either of them the same way again. She backed away from the door with a final wave. “See you later.”

As she reached the lobby, she paused by the counter. “Still on for dinner tomorrow?”

Emily looked up from the schedule she was putting together. “Yup. You still cooking?”

“I suppose it’s my turn.” Stacie pursed her lips. “Does pizza count as cooking if it’s DiGiorno?”

Emily’s head tilted from side to side as she thought. “It kind of sounds like cheating, but since you’ll let me throw whatever I want on it, sure.”

“Deal.” Stacie nodded. “Tomorrow then.”

“Later,” Emily said as she turned back to her chart.

Trying not to think too much about the last time she’d gone through this process, Stacie unchained her bike and stowed the chain and lock. She put in her earbuds, started up her favorite playlist and did her very best to not think about Aubrey and the whole ridiculous encounter. It was a fluke, it’s not like they’d crossed paths before and she probably wouldn’t see Aubrey again.

Except that every time she stopped actively thinking about anything else the rest of her night, she found her mind circling back to one very angry blonde staring her down.

By the time she woke up the next day, the encounter was far enough removed that she only thought of it in passing, mostly when she was riding her bike to and from work. And even then it wasn’t for very long and was nothing more than a mental snort of derision.

Until, that is, Emily came over for dinner. Then her cousin grilled her on what had happened the day before, since she’d seen some of it through the glass doors.

“So are you asking her out?” Emily asked curiously as she dried the last of the dishes.

“Oh. My. God.” Stacie dropped onto her couch, being careful not to spill her wine. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because she’s pretty.” Emily followed her into the living room and sat down with one leg drawn underneath her so she could face Stacie. “And she’s really nice.”

“She chained my bike to the rack. There is nothing nice about that.” Stacie took a bracing drink. “She’s crazy.”

“No, she’s not.” Emily insisted. “She always tells me hello when she comes in and goodbye when she leaves. Flo loves her in class because she’s so energetic and friendly.” Emily poked Stacie in the knee. “So you should definitely think about asking her out. You’ve been alone too long.”

“I’m not alone,” Stacie countered automatically. “You’re here. I got Chlo…”

“You haven’t dated in months.” Emily raised one brow. “You never not date.”

“Eh.” Stacie shrugged. “I got tired of the same type of people. No one is ever interested in more than just my boobs.”

“Gross.” Emily’s nose wrinkled.

“Exactly.” Stacie shrugged. “And while that was fine in college, it doesn’t have the same thrill that it used to.”

“Aw, are you finally maturing?” Emily ducked when Stacie tried to flick her in the nose. “Hey, no cousin on cousin violence.” Eyeing Stacie warily, she leaned her shoulder against the couch. “Seriously though… I don’t like to see you alone.”

“I’m okay, really.” Stacie smiled at her. “Thanks for the concern though.”

“Since you won’t date Chloe – who I still say would be good for you – then you’re going to have to start branching out of your comfort zone.” Emily nodded sagely.

“Crazy should be outside of everyone’s comfort zone. And Chloe and I… that just seems weird after all these years.” Stacie shrugged. “I love her, of course, but I don’t know that I’m in love with her.”

“That’s not a good enough reason to not date and figure it out, but I get it.” Emily half shrugged. “And, seriously, you could do worse than Aubrey.” She sat back up, her expression earnest. “And I’m not saying you have to ask her to marry you, just coffee! Sit down and talk!”

“I’d be too afraid that she’d chain me to my chair.” Stacie paused, one corner of her mouth twitching into a grin as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Although…”

“Ew, gross. No more putting the sex thoughts in my head.” Emily shook her head rapidly. “I take it back.”

“I thought so.” Stacie took another drink of her wine and gestured at the bookcase. “Go pick a movie, Nerd.”

“Just for that, I’m goin’ with a sappy romance to put you in the mood,” Emily threatened as she pushed herself off the couch. “And you’re not going to fall asleep this time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stacie got up as well. “Then I’m getting the bottle.” She paused in the entryway to the kitchen. “Besides, I’m probably not going to see her again. We’ve gone this long without passing each other, so you and Chlo need to just stop the match making.”

“Ooh, Chloe’s on board too?” Emily spun to face her, eyes sparkling with glee. “Excellent.”

“Make that two bottles.” Stacie walked into the kitchen.

~*~

A week and a half later Stacie rode to the studio for her yoga class.

As she hopped off to park her bike in the closest rack, her eyes flicked to the one that had been the scene of so much chaos. It had become a habit every day she was there, though she wasn’t sure why. She froze in the act of unwrapping her chain from the bike frame.

Sitting in ‘her spot’ was Aubrey’s red bike. Stacie knew it was hers because no one else in town had a stupid bell on their bike. The second she laid eyes on it she had the echo of its ring go through her head. She eyed it narrowly, noting that it wouldn’t require any sort of tool to remove.

Locking her bike to the rack she made her way inside, ignoring the way Emily waved at her excitedly and gave her a thumbs up with an overly exaggerated wink.

“Guess who is here?” She stage whispered the second Stacie was close enough.

“I don’t care.” Stacie walked past the desk toward her class. “Bye Emily.”

“But…” Emily said behind her but stopped when Stacie kept walking. “Spoil sport.”

‘If it’s still here when I leave, I’m going to steal that fucking bell.’

Feeling slightly better with a retaliation plan in place, even if it felt extremely petty, Stacie went to her locker to get her yoga mat.

#staubrey #stacie conrad #chloe beale #aubrey posen #wlw #fat amy #emily junk #cyc writes #switching gears

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gerinurse · 4 years

Text

I feel fortunate and blessed.....

We are in the middle of a global crisis that is taking lives daily and causing chaos everywhere. As a registered nurse I am a what is considered essential services so I am facing this crisis head on, and yet I feel so fortunate and blessed to live in this century. Sure I’d like to be secure in my home every day while I spend my time cleaning, baking and cooking but that is not what my calling in this crisis is meant to be. For years I have sometimes struggled to find the good in my world. I have struggled to find gratitude in my daily life, but in the middle of this chaotic world I can write pages of the things I am fortunate for and that I am blessed with.

I have a house with running water and a roof over my head. A bed to lie my head In after a difficult day.

I have an amazing husband who is making sure that while I slug through the day to day of working in this crisis that I have a hot meal every night, lunch packed in the AM and a clean house to come home to. He is also the one who is going out and picking up the fresh essentials such as fruit and veggies so that I am not putting myself at risk in public and putting the public at risk from being near me.

I have always been a planner and someone who is prepared for emergency. This has shown me how important that is as I did not have to worry about finding essentials after the general public had been on a panic purchasing rampage.

Although I am on what is considered the front line, I am working in what would be considered a low risk area. As long as our staff obey the rules of public gatherings when they leave work and we keep everything locked down, my risk of exposure is lower than those who work in hospitals.

I have a huge and extensive workload right now as I am managing things that would normally be managed by public health, I am confident in my abilities and my education.

Because I have amazing staff and we are not in hospitals I am fortunate that I still managed to get my weekend off. I am working extended hours during the week but days off are still happening.

With my mom being so very immunocompromised, I am fortunate that my brother loves so close to her and can get her anything she needs.

We live in an era when communication is easier than every. Apps such as Skype, FaceTime, Zoom all allow us to see each other and ensure everyone is well.

I am thankful for as many idiots as there are out there, this is also bringing out the best in so many people. Neighbors helping each other, coworkers babysitting for each other, teachers offering up their services online, restaurants providing food for the less fortunate since shelters have closed or deceased capacity, while fitness and yoga studios offer free online streaming to their members and sometimes to medical staff.

Some areas have opened abandoned schools and office buildings to the homeless population so that they can practice social distancing and better hygiene.

I work for a company that took extreme measures even before the governments and health districts did. They chose to initiate pandemic lockdowns to ensure the safety of staff and residents alike.

I have a pay check that keeps supporting us and as my husband was on lay-off for months prior he is already receiving employment insurance. We are able to pay our bills and will continue to do so without needing to take advantage of the government initiatives which leave them for those who are more in need than us.

My mother taught me the skills that I need to survive without conveniences. I can grow my own food, can my own food, make my own bread and cook all of the basic necessities. My husband grew up the same way so he is able to hunt, fish, butcher, smoke and cure our food should we ever need to.

This too shall pass and once it does, I look forward to taking a few weeks off to relax and just bring my mind, soul and heart back into alignment. We will all go back to our day to day lives but I hope that we do not forget about our fellow human beings. I hope that the kindness that we are seeing in this crisis continues, that this teaches us all what we can and cannot live without. I hope that this makes us spend more time with our loved ones but above all else, I hope it helps everyone find the things they can be grateful for every single day of their lives. ❤️

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vixxscifiwritings · 5 years

Text

to ruin it all (and love like fools)

Title - to ruin it all (and love like fools)

Pairing - Wonshik x female!OC

Characters - Wonshik, Groovl1n crew, OCs

AU - Soulmates

Genre - romance drama

Warning - all characters in this are pure of heart but dumb of ass

Summary - Wonshik doesn’t have a crush on their youngest dancer. The tugging on his finger is a constant reminder why he can’t like anyone

Tag List - @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols @k-craze-97 @blossomtearsleo

Wonshik feels the familiar tug on his little finger as he gets out of the car. His soulmate is nearby. He sighs, resisting the urge to touch the affected finger.

The tugging starts when they move into the new studio building. Groovl1n is still a baby company and in its early stages. Wonshik remembers the first two days passing without him noticing the effects. He passes it off as soreness after a minor injury sustained at the gym.

It’s only when Daehyun jokingly asks him if he is trying to use the force to sense where his soulmate is that he realizes that the tugging is the effect of his soulmate being nearby. The idea terrifies him. There are too many big decisions taking place and too many changes for Wonshik to deal with one more.

It’s also the first time meeting the new staff and crew. Apart from Inseob and Daehyun, he knows no one else. Fortunately and unfortunately, the new studio building also has a small office and a popular yoga center above it. Combined with Wonshik’s ill advised determination to put off facing this discovery, he never comes to know who his soulmate is.

If they are part of his new crew, they don’t show it by reacting to his presence any different. Wonshik wonders if he will ever know, given by the extreme emotions he gets from fans and haters alike. Perhaps he has already met his soulmate and knew no better. Maybe they work in the office above or are regulars at the yoga center. The possibilities are endless.

“Super Manager-nim!” he hears. He knows that playful voice. When he turns around, he is greeted by a surprise voice.

“CEO Kim, you’re here too” Haneul says, greeting him politely with a bow. She’s the youngest of the Crack Kidz dance crew and also the newest addition. Haneul joined them two weeks ago but she gets along with everyone as if she has known them for years. They have nicknames and inside jokes already.

She’s only extra polite and awkward around him. It’s the disadvantage of being the leader, he guesses. Though he wishes this wasn’t the case but that is a worry for another day.

“He has a very busy day at work” Daehyun feigns seriousness. His tone is apologetic for the sad state of affairs but his mischievous eyes aren’t.

“I’m pretty sure you make me busy schedules on purpose” Wonshik complains. Daehyun laughs and even Haneul smiles.

“Then I met you both at the perfect time! I am on a coffee run for the crew. I can get you something if you want” she offers.

“We’re all making Minhun go broke by charging his card for fancy coffee” she adds and Daehyun grins. Minhun is their new choreographer and a tough taskmaster. Coffee money is a small petty revenge.

“Can I get the fanciest thing on the list then?” Wonshik jokes.

“One caramel latte with extra syrup and whipped cream for Kim Sajang” Haneul says. She notes it down on the list she has on hand.

“He’s on a diet. He only gets an americano” Daehyun frowns.

Wonshik pouts and makes puppy eyes but Daehyun is too strict. So he turns to Haneul. She bites her lip but doesn’t waiver because Daehyun is glaring at both of them. How does Jaehwan make it work and get away with it every time?

“I’ll sneak in a cold brew in a covered cup” Haneul stage whispers and Wonshik smiles. She takes her leave, promising to be back within fifteen minutes and he watches her go.

“You’re not subtle when you are crushing on someone” Daehyun says, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m not crushing on anyone” Wonshik replies defensively. His reply is immediate and Daehyun only narrows his eyes in a knowing manner. Wonshik hits his shoulder half heartedly before walking into the building.

He doesn’t have a crush on their youngest dancer. The tugging on his finger is a constant reminder why he can’t like anyone. And too much is on the line for the new label for Wonshik to get distracted now.

Thirty minutes later when he finds a cup of cold brew on his desk accompanied with sugar free sweeteners and a sticky note asking Daehyun not to be too mad, he can’t help but wish he could.

Wonshik likes to think the only reason that Daehyun can tell what he feels with practiced ease is their long standing familiarity. He realizes that he isn’t subtle at all when Chiwoong catches him looking at Haneul. Chiwoong only shakes his head, fondly exasperated at the elder man.

It’s one week to the release of Vacay and the artists and crew members have begun practice for their dance and promotional videos. After a particularly long day, Wonshik decides to treat everyone to a late night dinner. The decision is followed by cheering and animated discussion over what to eat and what food stalls will be open now of the night.

Chiwoong suggests a pop up tteokbeokki stand that he frequents . Everyone agrees when Inseob adds that they can get soju or beer from the convenience store nearby. That’s how everyone ends up on an arrangement of circular tables on either chairs or stools. By virtue of being youngest, Chiwoong and Haneul help with the orders and drinks.

Once the food is all on the table, Chiwoong sits down next to him and she sits down next to Jeongyeon. Haneul loves extra spicy tteokbokki that no one else can eat. It turns into a competition to see if the others can handle the spicy rice cakes just as well. Jeongyeon eats half of a rice cake and almost cries much to everyone’s amusement.

Wonshik laughs when Haneul eats the rest and sticks her tongue out at Jeongyeon. She gets called the most disrespectful maknae ever and falls over laughing. Wonshik admires her cheeky spirit and liveliness. He pushes the rice cake around in the sauce, head propped on his hand. It’s been a long day and he doesn’t know how everyone else has energy left. Luckily his company understands and leaves him alone.

Chiwoong turns to ask him if he wants more to eat but catches wonshik smiling at the chaos. Wonshik realizes a second late and blushes in embarrassment. He didn’t realize he was staring. Maybe subtlety is a talent he doesn’t have.

“Whatever you are thinking or whatever Daehyun told you, it isn’t what it looks like” Wonshik clears up.

“I wasn’t thinking anything” Chiwoong says playfully. “I was merely admiring Hannie’s spice tolerance. I think you were too.”

Wonshik feels a pang of jealousy at the nickname. Chiwoong and Haneul are born in the same year and get to be informal with each other. He doesn’t know when Chiwoong met her but this is a small label where everyone eventually knows everyone.

“I’m going to get some more beer” Chiwoong says, leaving Wonshik to his thoughts. Almost as if to make him more jealous, Chiwoong stops to talk to Haneul after getting more beer. He says something and she indignantly protests when Jeongyeon supports him.

Wonshik looks away. It’s too late in the night to be jealous and it takes too much energy. Especially when he is trying very hard not to be. He poses for a picture with Inseob and pulls Daehyun’s leg. Jiwon texts him a cute picture of Butt who is currently at home and Wonshik misses him. After the promotion cycle, he’s going to bring Butt back to the studio. Hopefully his son will like the new one as much as he liked the older one.

“Kim Sajang, do you mind if I sit here?” Haneul asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Haneul?” he asks, surprised. She is standing next to him with a plate of what looks like more tteokbokki and an expression that alternates between a frown and a glare at Chiwoong. Wonshik thinks he can glare at him too.

“Sure. You don’t need to ask permission" Wonshik says, still taken by surprise. He pulls the chair for her so she can set down the plate and sit down.

"I got banned from every table because of the spicy tteokbokki" she huffs.

"Everyone is just teasing you" he laughs. Chiwoong winks at Wonshik from a distance. Wonshik covers his face in embarrassment and pretends he didn't see.

"We'll see who has the last laugh when Minhun makes everyone do split stretches in the morning tomorrow" she grumbles to herself.

"Do you always hold grudges like this?" Wonshik asks, thoroughly amused.

"Yes. The kid who answered the question before I could in fifth grade is my mortal enemy" Haneul tells him. She stabs the rice cakes for emphasis.

"You are so extra" he laughs. Haneul glares at him before she realizes who she is glaring at. Unlike previous times, this time it is good natured embarrassment and not awkwardness. She looks cute even while blushing, he thinks fondly.

There is a mid tug on his finger and he shivers. Why now? What does it mean? It's a disappointing pull to reality. His soulmate is nearby now but no one else has come in or left as far as he has noticed.

"Kim Sajang, are you feeling cold?" Haneul asks, looking at him. She is already taking her jacket off before Wonshik nods in reply.

"My sister used to be an idol trainee. She would always say that colds were a singer's worst enemy" she says by way of an explanation when she holds it out to him.

"Won't you be cold?" he hesitates.

"Not very much" she shrugs. He takes the jacket and pulls it around himself. The extra warmth makes him feel better. Her jacket is old and worn out but comfortable after long use. It makes Wonshik feel at ease and he smiles gratefully at her.

This time when his finger tugs, he ignores the feeling entirely.

"You're zoning out" Jongin says. Wonshik has been moving back and forth on the hoverboard for a while now.

Jongin has a rare break from schedules and he decides to hang out with Wonshik at his new studio. Something has been distracting Wonshik as of late and Jongin is determined to find out what.

"Nothing really" Wonshik lies.

"Something is. It's clearly seen on your face" Jongin tells him.

"Am I really that transparent?" Wonshik despairs.

"Like clear glass" Jongin says. The truth behind this statement amuses him no end. No one can tell what Wonshik is thinking most of the time, but when you get to know him he becomes an open book on display.

"Do you remember meeting your soulmate?" Wonshik asks. Jongin nods, encouraging him to continue.

"Why didn't you date them?" Wonshik asks. He doesn't know the person or any other important details. He only knows that Jongin met them a long ago but has been single for however long Wonshik has known him.

"I was too busy with training and then with debut" Jongin shrugs.

"Would you have dated them if you weren't an idol?"

"Maybe I would have. But so many things would have changed if I wasn't a celebrity" Jongin admits. "Not everyone ends up with their soulmate and that's fine. Most of the time you don't even meet them in this lifetime."

"When I was a child and I learnt about them, I was so sure I would end up marrying whoever it is" Wonshik confesses.

It's silly but it's a thought he had harboured for years now. It's part of what makes actually meeting his soulmate so terrifying. It is also what makes his feelings for Haneul feel like a betrayal.

"Soojung wasn't your soulmate but you still liked her" Wonshik thinks out loud.

"I did. A lot. Our timing was terrible but I don't regret it" Jongin says carefully. "I would have regretted not trying."

"What if I never meet my soulmate?" Wonshik asks. It's a possibility. They are so close yet so far away.

"Then you can definitely safely ask out the person who you are crushing on. Who clearly isn't your soulmate apparently" Jongin laughs. "It might even be the best case scenario for you."

"I hate it when you do that" Wonshik gripes, getting off the hoverboard. "Don't read me like an open book."

"You love me anyways. But I was serious. Tell me more about your crush" Jongin asks, leaving forward excitedly.

"Only if you promise not to tell anyone because no one knows" Wonshik says.

"Knowing you, I am sure everyone already knows" Jongin teases. He gets a cushion in his face for his troubles.

"It's one of the dancers in the new crew" Wonshik starts.

"Aren't most of them new? Your crush hasn't lasted long then" Jongin deduces.

"It's been around long enough" Wonshik sighs.

"What's her name? How did you both meet?"

"Haneul. We met here at the studio, on the day she joined the crew. She was part of the same dance school as Minhun and he recommended her."

"Does she know you like her? Do you know if she likes you?"

"I doubt it. We don't get to meet as much. And for the longest time she referred to me formally and wouldn't even look me in the eye."

"How did you end up developing a crush on her if you guys never talked?" Jongin asks confused.

"She's a really good dancer. And she's lively and cute and full of energy. I don't know. The first time we met, I was late and dance practice had already started. I think I started liking her when I saw her dance for the first time. Isn't that stupidly cheesy?" Wonshik asks.

"Very cheesy" Jongin laughs. "But also very cute."

"I don't know what to do" Wonshik says more to himself than to Jongin.

"Invite her for coffee. Or a meal together. Maybe ask for her opinion on a song and spend some time in the studio together" Jongin suggests.

"I owe her for lending me her jacket" Wonshik says, thinking hard. A coffee date might work.

If he ever manages to work up the courage to ask her. He flops down next to Jongin and lies down with his head on Jongin's lap. Why is this so hard?!

"I should warn you. With instant crushes like this, you might even find that you don't actually like the person after spending time together" Jongin warns him. His best friend is a romantic who tends to set himself up for heartbreak.

"Why can't all these stupid feelings go away on their own?" Wonshik asks with a deep sigh.

"Kim Sajang, you are just in time" Minhun says cheerfully.

"I was only passing by. I didn't know you were looking for me" Wonshik says, surprised.

He racks his brain to remember if he forgot about a message or if Daehyun told him that he was needed in the studio.

Truth be told, he just wants to return Haneul's jacket to her. So he picks the time when he knows that dance practice would be over and "accidentally happen to be in the same area". His calculation is slightly off as he finds Haneul and Minhun in the studio with no intention of leaving like the rest of the crew.

"We weren't looking for you specifically. I was teaching Haneul the choreography for Layered because she will be your new partner and you happened to pass by. Do you guys want to run through it once?" Minhun asks.

"Oh" Wonshik says. Warning bells start in his head immediately. The choreography is intentionally intimate and sensual and the last thing it was designed for is him dancing with his crush.

"Looks like Kim Sajang is busy. We can run through it some other time" Haneul suggests, saving him from embarrassment.

"Yeah that's a better idea. We can do run throughs before the next launch party. I don't think we added Layered to any performances in other events" Minhun thinks.

He nods to himself when his memory confirms his assumptions. He walks off to the speaker in deep thought and Haneul and Wonshik share a smile. Their head choreographer tends to do this all the time.

"I actually just wanted to return your jacket" Wonshik tells Haneul. He picks up the packet in hand and shakes it for good measure.

"I almost forgot about it" Haneul says, blinking at the packet.

"I should have returned it earlier, sorry" Wonshik apologizes.

"It's alright" Haneul says, smiling at him. Wonshik smiles in return. She takes the packet from him and their fingers brush. There is a violent tug on his finger and Wonshik accidentally grips her hand in surprise.

"Okay, let's run through the next part" Minhun announces, fiddling with the speakers and blissfully unaware of Wonshik's crisis.

"I'll leave you to it" he says stiffly before exiting the room. Haneul calls after him but he doesn't hear it over the storm of thoughts and emotions in his head.

"Hey" Daehyun says, snapping his fingers in front of Wonshik's face. Wonshik opens his mouth and then closes it and Daehyun frowns.

"What are you so worried about?" Daehyun asks, sitting next to him.

"Nothing. Writer's block" Wonshik lies.

It couldn't be further from the truth. After the dance studio incident, he has taken to hiding in his small studio. The extra time has actually helped him focus on producing more songs. Writer's block is the last of his issues.

"It's okay. You should take a break from composing now and then. You're always stuck in the studio till late in the night" Daehyun assures him.

"You should take time off and go date people or visit places or something. Get more life experience, you know?"

Wonshik nods. He smiles at Daehyun who takes it as a cue not to push Wonshik more. Baby steps is always the key.

"I thought you went to get more coffee" Wonshik says, noting the distinct lack of coffee cups on the table.

"I asked Haneul" Daehyun says. He feels particularly proud of this ingenious way of getting them to spend time together.

"Is she a coffee girl? Why are we always troubling her with coffee orders? Maybe we should just install vending machines in the building" Wonshik rants.

Daehyun raises an eyebrow but Wonshik continues.

"I know she's the youngest but we never made Sanghyuk get coffee. Or Chiwoong. But Chiwoong always says he'll remember the orders and then forgets it right at the counter. Just because Haneul actually notes down orders and is efficient, doesn't mean we should keep troubling her again."

"Okay man" Daehyun says, interrupting him before he goes on forever.

"Sorry. But you get my point right?" Wonshik asks, running his hand through his hair.

"Why are you avoiding Haneul?" Daehyun asks outright.

"I'm not avoiding Haneul" Wonshik lies. It's ineffective and it only confirms Daehyun's suspicion.

"Three years ago, you got into a fight with Taekwoon and every time anyone mentioned him you went on off topic rants like this one" Daehyun tells him.

"I swear to God that I'm changing my manager" Wonshik swears.

"You won't survive without me. I'm a super manager for a reason" Daehyun grins.

"Only Haneul calls you that" Wonshik reminds him.

"Because she is the only one who appreciates my hard work unlike you ungrateful brats" Daehyun complains. He swats at Wonshik's shoulder too. It starts a playful fight that is interrupted with Jeongyeon knocking on their door.

"Hello" Daehyun greets her with a smile. He almost frowns when he notices the coffee in her hand.

"Hannie had to help Chiwoong with something so she asked me to bring you the coffee" Jeongyeon tells them.

"Please stop sending our youngest on errands and let her focus on dance practice" she says solemnly before handing the coffee cups over.

"That's what I keep telling Wonshik" Daehyun says and gets a look from Wonshik in return.

Jeongyeon raises an eyebrow and shakes her head at Wonshik. "There are better ways of spending time with a girl you like. I thought you would know that Kim Sajang" she teases.

"I don't know why any of you have that assumption" he grumbles, turning away to focus on the notes on his table.

Haneul rarely asks anyone else to do her work. If she asked Jeongyeon then that only means she doesn't want to see him again after the studio incident.

Wonshik understands but he also curses his soulmate's existence. If only the stupid red thread of fate could stop interfering with his life. Especially if it doesn't plan on introducing him to his soulmate soon.

"I'm heading downstairs for practice. If you guys need anything, do it yourself" Jeongyeon says, sticking her tongue out at Daehyun before leaving.

Wonshik's gut feeling is correct. Haneul reverts to her respectful behavior where she never interacts with him directly.

He hopes to clarify the situation but with his tight schedule, he barely sees her in the studio building. She's very effective at avoiding people and he's terrible at trying to figure out a way to approach her that doesn't come off as stalkerish or aggressive.

So he resigns himself to waiting. He doesn't push her and the rest of the crew has noticed the cooled tension so they don't tease him either. Though no one knows exactly what went wrong, they sense that something is up and leave the two alone.

"Did Hannie reject you?" Chiwoong asks when they are alone in the changing rooms.

The rooms are small and the two of them charitably let the rest of the crew change first after the water bomb festival. As cool as the festival performances look, wet clothes in the humid heat really don't improve anyone's mood.

"Not exactly" Wonshik says carefully.

"You made a move and she turned you down? Or did you realize that you actually didn't want to pursue your crush?" he asks.

The younger is curious because he knows that Haneul was just as attracted to Wonshik as he was to her. The sudden apathy to each other does not compute.

"Things… happened and she made it clear that she wasn't interested in me. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable" Wonshik tells him.

"That sucks. I hope you feel better soon" Chiwoong says, putting a hand on Wonshik's shoulder. Wonshik nods and the two of them finish changing in silence.

The event staff have begun packing up and the Groovl1n crew are some of the last to leave the venue.

"Chiwoong, you're in the first van. Jeongyeon and Haneul will travel with us because it's a bigger and safer vehicle" Daehyun tells the pair. Chiwoong shares a look with Wonshik before walking over to the first van.

"Just murder me, why don't you" he says, not actually meaning to say it out loud.

"I do so in my head at least five times a day" Daehyun says rushing him along.

Wonshik sighs and climbs in. The only seat left is the one all the way in the back with Haneul next to one window and Inseob to the other. This is the universe being completely cruel to him. But at least the middle seat opens to the aisle and hence has more leg space.

It's a two hour ride back to the city and everyone has the same agenda of using the time to nap. Inseob has already dozed off, pulling his cap down to cover his face and Haneul has tuned out, gazing out of the window as if the cloudy sky above holds answers to the universe.

Wonshik plugs in his headphones and leans back. There is enough space for all three of them to be seated without bodily contact and he is grateful for the small mercies.

The van starts and enters the crowded highway. The slow pace is compounded with the rain starting and Wonshik knows it'll be a good three hours to the city now. He closes his eyes.

He's too wide awake for a nap so he decides to scroll through Twitter on his private account. The general reviews of their performance at positive and some fansites already have pictures out. He saves some good ones to share on the group chat later.

While replying to some of his messages, he looks towards Haneul from the corner of his eye. Her eyes keep closing and her head tilts as she drifts in and out of sleep. Her elbow props up her head but Wonshik anticipates her getting hurt should the van brake suddenly over bumps.

He shifts closer to her and gently pulls her head to rest on his shoulder. He's just being a good friend, he reasons. She could get hurt and he is preventing that. He'll pull away before she wakes up and hopefully she won't mind when she realizes it.

Haneul unconsciously wraps her arms around the arm she is resting on and nuzzles into his shoulder. Wonshik stares, never expecting her to move closer to him. Her body is warm and she fits like a puzzle piece that's custom made for him.

His finger tugs violently but Wonshik no longer cares. Backed with the adrenaline rush of the epiphany of his feelings, he kisses her forehead. Haneul sleepily asks for five more minutes to sleep a little more and he has never been more endeared.

He resolves to clear up any misunderstandings between them the moment they are back in Seoul.

Wonshik doesn't get a chance till five days later.

The Nirvana II launch party is coming up next. Haneul and Minhun practice together more and more while Wonshik runs the TV show promotional circuit. On his request, they decide to practice late at night after shootings and he gets his chance to talk to her alone.

"Hey" he says awkwardly when both of them sit down. Minhun just left and Haneul decides to stay back for half an hour so they can practice the performance a few more times.

The car ride has reduced some of the awkwardness between the two. Practicing together also helps. It's a slow climb back to the carefree friendship established earlier.

"Hi" Haneul says. She's more tired than he is after dancing the entire day. He passes her a bottle of water and she thanks him.

"We don't have to practice more if you feel tired" he suggests. "I'll run through it alone and we can practice together in the morning before I leave for my shoot."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something" Haneul starts, putting the water bottle aside.

"It's about what happened in the studio that day, isn't it? I am so sorry. Something else shocked me and I reacted without thinking. It was a mistake and I hope you didn't take it the wrong way" Wonshik apologizes first.

"A mistake…" Haneul trails off.

"Yeah. I didn't mean anything by it" Wonshik assures her.

"I understand" Haneul says thoughtfully. "I figured as much but things were already awkward by that point."

"I'm sorry about that" he adds.

"I'm sorry as well. It was my fault too" she replies.

"Forgive and forget?" he asks and she nods.

"Are you doing anything after practice? It's not that late but maybe we can grab some food?"

"Wonshik, you don't have to go out of your way to smooth things out. I'm fine with this arrangement honestly."

It's the first time she has addressed him with his name. Wonshik doesn't understand what just happened. Didn't they just work everything out?

"I think I'll just head home. We're fine with the choreography anyways" she says standing up and dusting her tracks.

"Wait" Wonshik says, following her. "Are you still mad at me for something?"

"I'm not" she replies, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. "I understand completely. Not everyone has a romantic relationship with their soulmate. Honestly I'm glad you wanted to be friends and it's good that we cleared it up before more misunderstandings happened."

"What do you mean by soulmates?" Wonshik asks, paling a little. It couldn't be… had he really been that blind?

"What else did you… Wait, did you even know that I was your soulmate?" Haneul realizes. No wonder he looks confused. In an instant, everything is clear for both of them.

Haneul looks him in the eye and takes his hand. The tug of the red string is there, as clear as day. Wonshik can't believe that he has been this stupid.

"It wasn't even a possibility for you, was it?" Haneul asks. Her voice is shaky and eyes glassy, all betraying the hurt she feels.

"No. It wasn't like that. Haneul I swear it wasn't -" Wonshik panics. This is not what he wanted to do. Haneul has the wrong idea. She couldn't be farther from the truth.

"Excuse me" she says before grabbing her bag and leaving the studio. Her firm tone prevents Wonshik from saying anything. He's a minute too late in following her out because she is out of sight by the time he is in the corridor.

"Did he stay here the entire night practicing?" Jeongyeon asks Minhun. Minhun looks at Wonshik who has fallen asleep while sitting against the mirror in the dance practice room.

"I think he did" Minhun says, deducing it from the clothes he was wearing. No one in the room wants to disturb him after looking at his worn out face.

Chiwoong peeks into the dance practice room and finds Minhun and Jeongyeon in the middle of their dilemma.

"Daehyun hyung has been looking everywhere for him. He wasn't answering his phone" he explains.

"It must have switched off" Minhun reasons.

"I'll call hyung. He can come pick Wonshik hyung up" Chiwoong agrees.

The three of them sit down silently so that they don't disturb Wonshik. Promotions are always a stressful time and they sympathize. The life of an idol is not easy.

The door opens and Chiwoong looks up to see Haneul enter while rubbing her eyes. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and shoulders hunched. The day has barely begun but everyone in the room looks tired already.

"Sorry I'm late. I couldn't sleep at all last night" she says, stifling a yawn. Jeongyeon hushes her and points to the sleeping man by the mirror.

"We think he slept here. We're waiting for Daehyun hyung to pick him up for his schedule" Chiwoong tells her. Haneul nods in understanding. She glances at Wonshik and takes a minute to make up her mind.

She walks over to him and kneels down next to Wonshik. She taps on his shoulder and he stirs.

"Kim Sajang" Haneul says gently, tapping his shoulder again. He grunts in response before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"You slept in the practice room" she tells him when he looks around in a daze. The room is too bright and it takes him a moment.

"I was waiting for you" he tells her sleepily. She freezes and everyone else pretends not to have heard him say that.

"You're mistaking me for Daehyun" she replies firmly.

"No. I really meant you" he insists, wide awake now. "I have to talk to you."

"We'll give you both some space" Jeongyeon says, pushing Minhun out of the room already. Haneul panics and almost leaves herself but Wonshik puts his hand on hers, pleading silently for her to listen to him.

"Just let me know if I have to kick hyung's ass later" Chiwoong tells her before leaving. He gives the couple an awkward thumbs up before closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" Haneul asks him.

"I need to clarify everything. Properly this time" he stresses. Haneul's lip press together but she nods and sits down with her legs folded.

"I like you. A lot. For the past few days I have been having a crisis because I thought you weren't my soulmate. I knew by the tugging on my finger that they were somewhere nearby. I never guessed it was you because there were too many new people present when we met and I couldn't tell" he explains, speaking in one breathe.

"How long have you known that you had a soulmate?" she asks.

"The day I met the new dance crew. How did you know?" he asks her.

"You walked in in the middle of the dance practice and I felt it for the first time. Every time after that only confirmed it" she tells him.

"We've known for the same amount of time then" he thinks.

"I thought you knew too and that you didn't like me so you never reacted or brought the topic up. I honestly thought I disappointed you."

"You didn't. You could never."

"It's not that simple. You're… you Wonshik. The most talented and dedicated and frankly, handsome person ever. There was no way I could measure up. To add to the complications, you were my boss too. I worked my ass off to become a dancer and if you didn't like me, I could be kicked off the crew. I couldn't risk it."

"I wouldn't have. After that day in the studio, I thought you hated me for leaving."

"And I thought you left because you hated me."

"We're quite a pair."

"Tell me about it."

Wonshik lets go of her hand and Haneul takes the opportunity to sit down next to him. Both of them are on the same page now but the pages afterwards are blank.

"It's funny that you couldn't tell that I liked you because everyone else knew instantly" Wonshik laughs.

"What can I say, I am very dumb of ass" Haneul admits. She huffs and he grins.

"And you? Do you like me too?" Wonshik asks. It may be too soon for the question but Wonshik instinctively knows that if he doesn't ask now, he will never get the chance again.

Haneul blushes as she nods and Wonshik almost yells with joy. He leans forward and kisses her on her forehead and she helps, pushing him away.

"Can I take you on a date? Once the mixtape releases, I will have more free time. We can't go somewhere public but we can definitely do anything else you like" he promises.

"I'd like that" she agrees. Wonshik wonders whether the warmth in his chest is growing because his heartbeat has picked up or because Haneul is smiling at him. He decides that both factors are equally responsible.

"Hannie?" he asks. She hums in response, happier now that he uses her nickname to address her. He leans in and kisses her on her nose.

"Wonshik" she calls, and leans forward to kiss him on his cheek. They giggle, knowing this is extremely silly but also cute and heartwarming at the same time.

"If you both are quite done with your disgusting PDA" Daehyun says impatiently while tapping his foot on the floor. Both of them yell and start, jumping five feet apart.

"Hyung?!" Wonshik exclaims, embarrassed on having company.

"I tried stopping him but he insisted that you would be late for your hair appointment" Chiwoong explains, gesturing to Daehyun apologetically. Minhun and Jeongyeon nod behind him in support.

"Kill me now" Haneul says more to herself but everyone in the room echoes the sentiment.

"We need to rush but I am going to talk to both of you once we are back" Daehyun says, pulling Wonshik away. Wonshik whines and doesn't want to budge, looking at Haneul for support.

"I'll wait for you after practice" she promises him. He sighs and gets up, following Daehyun who loudly expresses his disgust for whipped romantic couples.

Wonshik gives a last wave to Haneul who waves back at him before being accosted by Chiwoong and Jeongyeon for details. He closes the door but can still hear Minhun yell at everyone to stop wasting precious practice time.

After days of anguish, it feels like things are going to be just fine for the two of them.

#vixx fanfiction #vixx ravi #ravi fanfiction #romance #soulmates au

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