#with a dash of <<through monet's right eye>>? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

13-reasons-ideas · 3 years

Text

Marry Me - Monty’s Perspective

A/N: Here it is. I’m so sorry this took so long to put out. I was having a really hard time getting into the right headspace to write this. I hope you guys like it! I recommend listening to Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me when you read this. As usual, feedback is appreciated and much love! -Em

Ellie was coming back into town for her engagement party this weekend. I was the first person she called when Evan proposed. She damn near gave me a heart attack when I answered, and she was scream-crying.

Flashback

I was watching the Chargers game when Ellie called. “Hey Elliebear.”

“Heaskedmetomarryhim.” She screeched on the other line. I had no idea what she said. It sounded like she was crying. And that I would be deaf in one ear. I pulled the phone away from my head until she stopped freaking out.

“What was that?”

“Evan proposed.” What?

“Oh?”

“And I said yes. I’m getting married Montgomery.” Oh.

“That’s great Ellie. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the pit that was forming.

“Thank you. I wanted you to be the first one to know, so I just wanted to call you quick. I can hear the game in the background, and we have more people to call so I’ll let you go now.”

“Okay, tell Evan I said hi and congratulations.”

“I will. Bye Monty.”

“Bye Ellie.” I hung up and sat back on the couch. She’s getting married.

End flashback

I was on break at work when I got a text from Ellie.

Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

I texted her back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

She replied right away. Drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear.

I stopped at home to change after work into something more comfortable. I grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a random t-shirt before grabbing an old flannel and running out the door, so I wasn’t late.Ellie barely beat me to the café. It wasn’t surprising really, since she was always the early one.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?” the barista asked her.

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I said behind her. The barista looked at her, unsure if she should ring it in or not. Ellie nodded and turned around to face me. Before I had a chance to say anything, she jumped into my arms for a hug.

“Hey Elliebear.” I grunted.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Our orders were finished quickly as it was surprisingly slow for a Friday night. Luckily, that meant our table was free. We sat down and conversation flowed easily. It was almost like we had never been apart.

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” She told me, scandalously. Sure, you did El. I didn’t let myself think about the possibility of her liking me that way when we were younger.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” she paused. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.”

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.” I wouldn’t call what I did, dating. The point wasn’t to find someone to bring home. Who I wanted to bring home was over 900 miles away.

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” She replied, sarcastically. We reached for our cups at the same time and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“Remember students. The homecoming game is tonight at 6:30. You’ll want to be there early as our Liberty Tigers take on the Hildebrandt Mustangs if you want good seats. It’s sure to be a nail biter.” Principal Bolan’s voice boomed from the intercom during the morning announcements.

“Don’t know why he’s hyping it up to be a nail biter.” Scott laughed.

“We are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I joked. “Have any of you seen Ellie? She’s usually here to force me to English by now.”

“Nah man.” Scott replied.

“Need lover girl to make sure you do what you’re supposed to?” Bryce teased.

“Fuck off. It’s not like that with us.” Unfortunately.

“Sure it’s not Monty. I refuse to believe you never hit it.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” I threatened, lowly. Don’t push it man. Bryce shut up at my tone. “I’m going to go try and find her. I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

She was arranging her books when I found her at her locker. She was trailed by Clay and Alex. I pulled her into my arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” she laughed.

“Never.” I laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach said as he grabbed her book, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” I replied, putting her down and shaking my head.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

I sat through just about the driest English class of my life, counting the minutes on my watch. Math was no better. We were reviewing for a test that almost the whole

class failed. Somehow that was our fault for not studying enough. I let out a sigh of relief when the lunch bell rang.

The table was already mostly full when Ellie came and sat next to me. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” I stated. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at me. I threw it back at him. I knew how important her faith was to her. Some things just weren’t okay to be joked about or questioned. When it came to Ellie, faith was one of them.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I know he has. I don’t like it. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I watched her from the corner of my eye as she smirked to herself before beginning. I’d seen her pray for real before. This wasn’t that. “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.” She smirked at Bryce. I choked on my juice. She probably isn’t wrong. Was pretty funny when that kid got hit though.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” She was true to her word. I was late for Geography because I was watching her sit in an empty alcove praying. Bryce didn’t sit with her.

The locker room was abuzz with excitement. It was the homecoming game. Not to mention our season opener. If we wanted to start the season off right, we had to win. Sure, we joked around about Hildebrandt being an easy team to beat-they came in second to last in the league last year-but there was still a chance they would pull off a miracle. Especially if Bryce threw like he did at lunch. “Yo Monty, is Ellie coming to Monet’s tonight?”

“She said she would. Not that she’ll give you the time of day.” I waved off Matt’s question. She’s not interested. Trust me. Find someone else to have your eyes on. Several ‘oooo’s were voiced around us.

“How do you know?”

“Just do, man.”

“I could treat her real nice. She’d beg me for more.” Are you fucking kidding me?

“Oh shit.” Someone muttered, seriously. I didn’t really hear who it was. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears was too loud. Coach Kerba wasn’t in the room. He was talking to Banes about plays. No one in here will snitch. Not when it’s about Ellie.

I immediately turned towards him and cornered him against his locker. The rest of the team stood silently, watching us. I got real close to his face so only he would hear me. “You even think about her like that again and I will bury you so deep they’ll need ground penetrating radar to find you. Not that they’d recognize you if anyone found your body. If you so much as brush against her too hard in the halls, I’ll break your jaw. You understand Carraway?”

“Y-yeah. I got you. Never said a word.” He breathed in response. I had scared the living shit out of him. Good. I stepped away from him and after a few beats the incident was forgotten and the mood was light again.

The game wasn’t that exciting. Had it not been homecoming, most people probably wouldn’t have shown up. As expected, it was in our favour most of the first half. Ellie waved at me between plays. She was practically beaming. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting to play. It wasn’t the nail biter Principal Bolan had promised this morning. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would end up winning. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating.

I waited for Ellie outside the locker room, as per our tradition. “Good game.” She called.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.” I smirked.

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?” My brow furrowed.

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.” Only because it’s you asking.

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

I sighed, making it seem like a hassle just to get a rise out of her. I was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” I called back to him. Bryce didn’t respond.

I turned around so I could give her a piggyback out to the car. “Hop on”. Once she felt secure, I walked us out to the parking lot. I pretended to not pay attention when she stole my baseball hat. She couldn’t see the way my smirk turned into a smile when she did.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.” Already has my name in it. Yours would just complete it.

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

I set her down at her car. “No, you wouldn’t.” I called her bluff. You’re too sweet to do it. Or you’d fix it right away if you did. She rolled her eyes at me.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.” I waited until she got in her car and drove off, before starting my own engine and following her.

Ellie beat me to Monet’s as usual. I nodded at and stopped to chat with some of my teammates when I came in. Matt nodded awkwardly at me as I passed. I glared in return. My coffee was set across from her when I got to our table. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.”

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.” Not that anything would look bad on you. Suits her. She’s wearing my shirt.

“That’s what I thought.”

We chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He waved.

“Justin! You made it.” She exclaimed, too excitedly. Making him think you were forced to babysit him by being overly happy isn’t going to help Elliebear. I shot her a tone it down look. Justin smiled uncomfortably as she offered up her seat. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” I flirted, patting the chair next to me. The smile and blush she tried to mask didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin said, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. I was on my best behaviour with Justin and even laughed a few times at couple things he said. There was no mention of what he witnessed in the locker room.

My hand found Ellie’s under the table and I grasped it carefully. I had to make it look like I hadn’t done it intentionally. I could see the pink flare of her cheeks and my lip twitched upwards.

“Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin left us to go investigate. I caught the quick glance at our hands, even if Ellie didn’t. Thank you, Foley.

“And then there were two.” I muttered, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Then there were two.” She repeated.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.” She seemed nervous.

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?” I slowly inched closer to her. We have never gone here. But there’s no way she doesn’t feel this pull.

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” She said, coyly. My fingers itched to brush the hair from her face. She beat me to it.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” I replied, leaning in a little more. What am I doing? What if she doesn’t feel the same way. Am I about to ruin our friendship? Do I even care? Before I could kiss her, fucking Bryce Walker beckoned from across the room. Son of a bitch. You couldn’t wait two god damn seconds, could you? This better be important.

I stopped just short of kissing her. “What?” I answered, curtly.

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. That is what was so important you had to interrupt this moment? That could have waited. Fucker. I nodded in response and turned back to Ellie, hoping the moment wasn’t gone. I knew it was though. I sighed internally. She was smiling at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes like it normally did. She’s upset. I didn’t know what to say to try and salvage our moment. Instead, I watched her take a sip of her latte and check her watch.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I’ll take bullshit for 200, Alex. She never was a good liar.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?” I tried to hide my disappointment.

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” She hurried out of the café so fast, someone might think there was a fire.

I threw my head back in my chair and ran my hands down my face. Bryce and Matt were watching me when I looked out at the room again. I mimicked Ellie’s actions and took my half empty cup to the counter. “You couldn’t have waited one minute, could you Walker?” I grumbled as I passed him.

“Sorry dude.” He called after me. “My place-.”

“Half an hour. Yeah. I got that.” I shook my head as I left the café.

End flashback

I turned to watch her take a sip of her latte. She still savoured the taste and licked her bottom lip the same way. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

Blonde girl… Lip piercing? No. Was a red head. The sorority girl? That was the brunette with the Adderall. Blonde… oh! Chirpy. “Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.” You always thought I did.

“Exactly.” I laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“How is your mom doing, by the way?” “She’s doing okay. After dad died, she was pretty out of it for a few months. She’s gotten better with time though. Really started to come into her own and forge her own path.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

“Montgomery. I am your best friend. Your dad was never a parent. DNA doesn’t make someone your family. You’re doing the same as you did the day you left and vowed to never speak to him again.”

Her easy explanation surprised me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.” Oh God.

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don’t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, mentioned how you guys fucked up and didn’t study for midterms and I singlehandedly kept you all on the team. And how Matt and Garrison managed to keep themselves above their feet until after homecoming senior year.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?” Why do I care? Because you love her you dolt.

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” She squeezed me tightly. When we pulled apart, I looked down and saw she was wearing my shirt. She kept it all these years.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah, but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” She offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” She smiled and hugged me again before leaving.

No matter how much I tried to talk myself into cancelling at the last minute or just not showing up to the party, I couldn’t do it. As much as I wanted to let her finally think that I was an ass, I couldn’t. I couldn’t hurt her like that. So, I manned up and went to Ellie’s engagement party. I showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” She beamed. Her whole face lit up when she saw me.

“Hey Elliebear.” I said as I hugged her. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. He looked so uncomfortable with our interaction. Maybe he noticed how much brighter her face got when she saw me. She pulled away first and turned towards her fiancé.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” She motioned between us. I shook his hand awkwardly.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” I replied, trying to hide the wistfulness and ignore the pang of jealously in my chest.

Jill called her over for something and she pointed Scott out to me. Trying to avoid a pissing match El? “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes. Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

I laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.” He doesn’t like me.

“Hey Scotty.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up. Justin and I had a bet going. I owe him fifty bucks.”

“Well, you know. It’s Ellie.” I grabbed a cupcake from the stand and took a bite. Not bad. I see why she wants me to monitor Scott.

“That’s why I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You came.” Justin said, patting me on the back in lieu of greeting.

“Yup. Where’s Sasha?”

“Girl talk with Ellie and Jess and some other girls.”

“Riveting. What choice did I have? My options were come, watch her with Evan, and hate every second of it for an hour or two, or, not come and have her hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“I guess. Are you going to go to the wedding?” Justin asked.

“See if Evan lets her invite me first. He doesn’t seem too impressed so far. Thanks for that by the way Scott.”

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.”

“If you’re invited? Which you will be, because you’re her best friend.”

“Then what kind of best friend would I be, if I didn’t go to her wedding? I’d just hate myself for a few more hours then. That’s better than a lifetime of her hating me.”

“Fair. Look, if you want to leave, just say the word. We can go back to my place and drink.” Scott offered.

“Thanks. I need to stick it out. It’s Ellie.” The rest of the party was fine. I talked to Jill and Rob for a while. I even talked to Evan for a bit. It was awkward but we didn’t fight each other. If he suspected anything about my feelings for her, he didn’t say anything. I left that evening, wondering if he noticed Ellie looking for me and not him all afternoon and letting my brain go somewhere it hadn’t gone in years. At least, not willingly gone in years.

I held out some sick hope that maybe, just maybe, the engagement wouldn’t last. I knew it was wrong of me, but I couldn’t help it. This was the girl that I had been in love with since the eighth grade. That’s when she stopped being like one of the guys. When she became something more. Even though I knew it wasn’t an attainable thing, even back then, there was always this little spark of hope. She was the reason I didn’t really date in college. She was the reason no girl was worth bringing home to meet my mom. They were all compared to her. They would always be compared to her. I always hoped that she felt the same way about me as I felt about her. That hope vanished when I checked my mail after work that Wednesday. The fancy envelope and familiar script were enough of a giveaway. I didn’t need to open the card to know what it was. The invitation. I sighed as I went in the house and opened the card. I merely skimmed for the important dates and time. I knew in that moment that I had finally lost her. I also knew that I would go anyway as I signed, sealed, and mailed the RSVP that night. I had to go. It’s Ellie.

The day had finally arrived. I had been dreading this day for the better part of a year. It was the morning of Ellie’s wedding. I woke up, forced myself to get out of bed, made coffee, and showered. I stared at the black suit hanging on my bedroom door for fifteen minutes. Arguing with myself about if I was really going to do this was getting me nowhere closer to a decision. If I go, I’ll hate myself. If I don’t go, she’ll hate me. If I go, I’m losing her. If I don’t go, I’m losing her. If I go, then I’ll get to see her. If I don’t go, I won’t see her. If I go, I’ll have to hold my feelings in forever. If I don’t go, I’ll have to hold my feelings in forever. Finally, I came to a decision. I wasn’t willing to risk losing her because I couldn’t show up for her. If I wasn’t going to be able to be with her, at least I could still be in her life. Maybe. But I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. I put the suit on and fixed my hair. Then I went to the liquor cabinet and filled a flask with whiskey. I couldn’t drink it in church because if Ellie found out, she would kill me, Ten Commandments be damned.

I arrived at the church forty-five minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to start. I took a sip from the flask in my pocket on the city sidewalk. Spotting Bryce, I walked over to him. “Hey.”

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

“It’s going, you?”

“Same old, same old.” We chatted mindlessly for a few minutes until Justin showed up with Clay and Sasha. I’m shocked we haven’t gotten a happy announcement from them yet. She looks thrilled.

“Justin, Clay. Hey Sasha.” The trio greeted me, and Clay took Sasha inside. He seemed to pick up on the displeasure radiating off of her.

“Holding up okay?” Justin asked.

“Sure.”

“He’s at his best friend’s wedding.”

“I know. Just trying to be nice Bryce.” Zach showed up and broke some of the tension brewing between Bryce and Justin. Never thought I’d be happy to see Zach freaking Dempsey.

“So, I heard from one of the groomsmen that she looks beautiful.”

“Of course, she does. It’s Ellie. And it’s her wedding day.” I said. Scott found us milling in the back of the chapel and came over. He didn’t bother greeting us.

“Have you talked to her?” he asked.

“No. I wanted to give her space. In case I decided not to come.”

“Oh. You could go talk to her now.”

“And say what Scott?”

“Tell her.”

“Tell her what? It’s her wedding.”

“I know that.” I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to our little group. They weren’t.

“Tell her what exactly Scott? How do you propose I go about telling her that I think she’s making a mistake and that I’ve been in love with her since we were thirteen? I’m not going to do that. Not today. Not ever. I’m not messing this up for her.” I whisper-yelled.

“He has a point Scott.” Zach pointed out.

“If I say something, I’ll lose her forever. So, to avoid losing my best friend, I’m going to sit here, watch her marry the man she loves, and wish her the best. And then I will go home, get very drunk, and sleep the hangover off for the next two days.”

Scott raised his hands in defeat. “Okay. I get your point. I’m not going to push you into doing something you don’t want to do.” Even though I made a good little speech, the closer we got to the ceremony, the more uncomfortable I became. I couldn’t stop the thoughts of wanting to do exactly what Scott suggested. I wanted nothing more than to go find her and tell her how I felt. But then I looked around the room and saw all of these people waiting excitedly to see Ellie and Evan get married and live happily ever after. I wasn’t going to be the reason that didn’t happen. But the closer we got to ceremony time, the closer I also got to losing my resolve to sit here and watch this happen. I couldn’t watch her marry someone else.

“I can’t do this.” I said suddenly.

“What?” Zach asked.

“I can’t watch her marry him. I can’t sit here and watch them get married. I can’t give her up like this.”

“What are you doing Monty?” Scott asked. I stood up from my seat.

“Tell Ellie that I’m sorry.” With nothing more to say, I turned around and walked out of the church. My friends didn’t try to follow me, too stunned to process what was happening. I got in my car and drove. I wasn’t sure where I was driving until I pulled into the lot.

I opened the door to the quaint café and saw that our table was available. Though, I suppose now it was more my table than our table. I lost her today. There was no way I was getting her back after what I did. I slipped my jacket off and hung it over a chair to save the spot, before going to the counter and ordering.

“Can I get a tall bourbon neat. Make it a double.” Monet’s had been licensed a few years ago.

“Sure thing. Rough day?” The barista asked.

“You have no idea.” I shook my head and took the drink she set in front of me. Back at what was now only my table, I pulled out my phone and scrolled though some old photos. A lot of them were of Ellie. She used to like to steal my phone and leave me with some selfies to surprise me when I opened the app. I scrolled through the seemingly endless stream of photos and ordered another bourbon when I finished the first one. My trip down memory lane was interrupted when I got a text from Bryce.

I need you to tell me where you are.

Why?

Because I do. Now tell me where you are.

Why?

Montgomery. You want to tell me where you are.

Fine. If you must know. I’m at Monet’s. Now why do you need to know?

I’m sorry about homecoming night. I hope this can make it up to you at least a little. I stared at the screen in confusion. Shaking my head, I put my phone down and went back to sipping the amber liquor. What the hell is he talking about? Fucking Bryce. I didn’t look up when I heard the bell chime above the door. Nor did I look up when I heard the click of high heels against the wood floors.

“Is this seat taken?” I heard a familiar voice, softly.

I looked up at her then, my eyes widening in surprise. What is she doing here? She is supposed to be getting married to Evan. What does this mean? Why is she here?

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

I scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from my glass, not looking at her for fear of letting my guard down again, only to be crushed again.

“Hey,” she started, reaching for my hand. I looked at her hand and paused before letting her take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment. Noticing I had about fingers width of bourbon left in my glass, she grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” I protested.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” She told me while she stared into the bottom of the now empty glass.

“You- really?” Wait, how did she know I was there? “How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.” Of course, he did. I sighed internally.

“I know I wasn’t there Ellie. I just. I couldn’t sit there in that church and watch you marry him. And I knew I was and would be too much of a coward to stand up and say something when I saw you standing up there with him. I had to let you be happy.” I told her, trying to make her understand that I couldn’t be the reason she spent her life unhappy.

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn’t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

“Because I thought it would be easier? My friends liked him, my family liked him, I liked him. I just thought that it would be easier to ignore my feelings. I could marry him, officially move to Atlanta, come home a couple of times a year, have a couple of kids. It all seemed easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend and if I really, truly wanted to be happy, I would need to be with him instead. And that admitting that would change everything. But I’ve learned over the past year that easy doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes what we think is easy in the short term, isn’t always easy in the long term.”

Easier. Sure. She finally admitted it. She’s in love with me. I chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

She furrowed her brow at me, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When I didn’t say anything she added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.” I muttered.

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” she told me, sighing dramatically.

I looked at her through my eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” she rolled her eyes and stood up to go order me another shot. Before I could chicken out again, I surprised her when I grabbed her wrist to stop her, before pulling her down into my lap, she fell rather gracefully given the fit of her dress and kissing her deeply. I pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other.

“How about that shot now?” I smirked.

#montgomery de la cruz #monty de la Cruz fanfic #monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #monty de la cruz #Marry Me #Thomas Rhett #one shot #original character #zach dempsey #Bryce Walker #Justin Foley

31 notes · View notes

neblina-a-blin · 3 years

Text

breathe.

here is my new offering to the july writing challenge! the other prompts are in the editing pile... i am a messy drafter, so i must be a diligent editor. glad i can roll out this playful little snippet more or less in time though.

____________

inhale.

exhale.

he abided by these simple commands. the gentle quiet trickled down from his mind to the rest of the body. thoughts dissipating along with the worries they bring… it is a rare kind of relief. it is one experienced by very few and even by those — too little.

inhale.

exhale.

the soothing voice accompanied each word with a light touch of a xylophone. like a young child somewhere giving it a first apprehensive ring. he used to have one, too, so he knew just how tempting they were to play with, with all the colors...

he caught this last vivid thought and gave himself a light scolding for straying away. ‘unbefitting of an evil genius’, he mumbled. the voice carried on with its message in fulfilling silence.

you are the power of gods.

you are the breath of the wild,

taking a fresh bite of life each day.

you are the sprint across the woods,

you are the dash amid the sand dunes,

you are the winds combing through vast oceans.

and you are the little boat on the shore, taking its brave journey out to the waters.

you are the salt clinging to it, and the waves that rock it.

you are the sea itself, and the storm, and the calm,

and you have the power to guide each towards its conclusion.

a timid knock came right as the narrator spoke the last of its spell. ‘conclusions,’ thought he, ‘are yet to be reached.’ someone lightly pushed the door open.

‘ehm, boss?’ called out his minion. it must be said, there was nothing 'mini' about them, they were towering over their master, no matter if standing or sitting. but being so tall works in a cave that this place of employment happens to be. his master picked his weary bones up from the floor where he'd been diligently trying to stir his mind towards, well, nowhere. but, truly, still hoping to reach somewhere. detecting no audible answer, they sought a confirmation: ‘are you done here?’

‘a good app,’ said the villain, letting a light smile rise the corners of his mouth just a touch, ‘remind me to give it 5 stars.’

‘5 stars, ay. that's one better than, what was it. MeditatePro.’

‘yes, i am not a fan of all these...ads.’ the villain adjusted his evilwear, straightened out the collar until it stood completely upward.

‘intrusive suckers.’

‘indeed they are! i want to tell them, no, i will NOT let you monetize my inner peace. i will NOT let you encroach on my sprint across the woods, you WILL NOT steal the food from my feast of life...'

the chamber boomed slightly. the acoustics did well on carrying the meditations and the exasperated noises of its main inhabitant. he did not fail to notice how quickly his frustration turned into whine, so he course-corrected. '...so anyway, where was I?'

'today's evil agenda, boss.'

'ah yes, that is right.’

silence befell both of them. them, and all the hollow equipment, detailed but sterile maps, and cardboard replicas of the city. this silence felt so intrusive, stifling. it was far from the promising kind. just the plain empty kind.

'i've got nothing,' declared the villain. a declaration that he made for the fifth time this week.

'it's ok, boss,’ said his companion. 'there will be other days. it is ok to...’

the villain’s eyes had a strange, sad tint to them.

'it's ok to take a small bite of life today,’ the minion placed their words into the vacuum of the room with utmost care and affection.

the villain had few means to object, so, after a pause, he joined in agreement:

'...yes. that might just be the best, most despicable thing to do.'

he peeled black gloves off his hands. soon heels and a cape followed.

'perhaps your evil genius will grow from listening to more of that... breath of the wild thing. sounds positively ghastly.'

'perhaps it really is the most devilish to give it a listen...’ boss was not one for asking permission, but this statement sure hid a question somewhere in it. all that was left to the minion is to nod. the villain went back to his dark chamber, tapped his prickly phone, and the voice filled the space once more.

the minion carried on with housekeeping...or, rather, lair-keeping duties. knowing that not today, but one day, the boat will sail across the ocean.

maybe, it will even take some of them ad servers down, on the way.

#july writing challenge #writewithbeth #problematicprocrastinator #writeblr #prose #short story #writing practice #writing #blin prose #anyway maybe the real treasure is the minion you hired along the way #blinprose

7 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Let it Be Me (Part One)| Kevin Moon Imagine

soulmate au! x badboy! Kevin.

In which soulmates find each other on their graduation day and Kevin gets the growing suspicion that his is just as artistically inclined as he is. Let the competition begin.

Thank you @aniyawoos for giving me such inspiration, and for always listening to me rant about how perfect Mr.Moon is.

Genre: fluff, lil angst, soulmates

Part one | Part Two (Coming soon)

----

Kevin was pissed.

He glared at his canvas, now caked with bold dark lines that mimicked a caricature of an unfamiliar face that he'd never set eyes upon. The girl's deep set eyes were furrowed into a frown, eyebrows perpetually pinched together in constant permanent thought, lips pursed as though silent protests were lingering along her tongue. But while Kevin would've normally been proud of mastering such a face in such little time, this did not negate the fact that this was definitely not his work.

Because the fact was that Kevin did not draw caricatures. He did not use dark tones. And he did not recall having seen such a girl, for he was sure that it would've sparked a memory if their meeting had been so significant.

"Why is this so dark?"

Kevin let out a snort as footsteps walked up beside him. He caught a glimpse of caramel coloured hair, a flash of too-white teeth.

"That's not your style," Jacob remarked as he leaned in close to inspect its details, "where are your watercolours? And your sceneries?"

Kevin's grip tightened impulsively onto his paintbrush. His jaw clenched in silence.

A fresh canvas, wasted just like that. His hand was still throbbing with a familiar tingle that had spread through him the moment his brush had touched the tip of the blank page, and the entire process was like a dream that he had stumbled through only to wake up disoriented and dizzy.

"I don't know," the raven-haired man muttered as his fingers combed through his locks.

"Not bad though," Jacob remarked with a whistle, "not bad at all. Who is she?"

Kevin's shoulders lifted in a half-shrug, though annoyance spiked through him at his friend's curiosity. Today was not one of those days where he could tolerate human beings, especially when nothing seemed to go right.

"Where are you going?" Jacob called out when he stood up abruptly from his seat, chair squeaking in protest as he made a grab for his rucksack and strode out of the room, mind still reeling from the confusion which had come with that sudden artistic turn of events.

Maybe it was his just off day, he concluded mentally, as he tried to ignore the soft tingling sensation thrumming through his fingers, as though a ghost of a presence was still present.

The second time it happened, he was in the middle of reproducing one of Monet's famous water lilies when his hand tingled with that familiar warmth, electricity dancing up and down his arm and numbing it so that his limb took a life of its own. He watched, horrified, as his beautiful lily pond turned into another stranger's face, flowers transforming into dark orbs staring back at him, the water trail twisting into a bold nose, a vine curling to form a cupid's bow mouth.

What in the actual fuck. His mouth moved soundlessly over the muttered words, hands fisting in his lap with the sudden urge to throw his artwork --could he even call it his?-- against the wall.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Jacob said once Kevin complained about his artwork getting ruined by bold strokes. This was the fifth time this week and the latter’s growing collection of portraits was both alarming and fascinating at the same time. While Jacob understood the artist’s growing frustration with the manhandling of his artistic talent, there was nothing to be said about how beautiful they all turned out to be, even though they weren’t originally part of Kevin’s vision.

“A sign of what?” Kevin picked at his fries, mood still sour from the thought of his now empty wallet that was now scraped dry, his savings all flushed down the drain from having spent it all on the last pieces of canvas that were now deemed useless unless he painted them over with white and started again.

But that would take ages and a lot of layers, and a lot of paint. Kevin wasn’t sure whether he was ready for that. Not that he had a choice, considering that these works would count for his final portfolio.

He couldn’t help but let out another exasperating sigh at the thought.

“There are theories circulating,” his other friend, Chanhee, piped up from behind his roast beef sandwich, earrings catching the light of the lunchroom as he spoke, “that a few weeks before your graduation, you might get a few hints about who your soulmate might be.”

Kevin allowed the information to sink in, “why haven’t I heard of that before?”

“Maybe because you spend all your time holed up in the studio,” Chanhee sasses him, “and when you’re not in the studio, you’re doing that.”

Kevin’s eyes find the joint in his hand when Chanhee gestures towards it, before he puts it to his lips and takes another puff just to insult his friend, “it keeps my creative juices flowing.”

“You don’t need that to be creative, Kevin.”

“Stick to your account books, Chanhee.”

“Alright time out," Jacob interrupts before the pair can get into yet another brawl, "Kev, Chanhee's right. You can't keep depending on that to keep going."

The raven-haired man shrugged but kept quiet nevertheless. He knew, deep down, that Jacob was right. But once he started, he found it was hard to stop. It gave him everything he needed; the relaxation, the creativity, everything. Ever since his life had turned upside down, ever since the school had turned its back on him for apparently dealing with heroin when he'd been completely innocent, Kevin had suffered with the aftermath of rumours and the countless amounts of gossiping about his whereabouts. Jacob and Chanhee had stuck with him, but they were the only ones that had. The rest of his so-called friends now deemed him too weird to talk to, as though a foreign body had invaded Kevin's body with a bright red alarm sign to indicate that he was off bounds completely.

It was one of the reasons why he spent most of his time in the art room in the first place. He wasn't going to entertain their stupidly, made - up stories about who he was and what he did.

If there was one thing that Kevin hated the most, it was tattletales. And there seemed to be lots of them around here.

After that, he decided he wouldn't be bothered by the fact that his artworks were not technically his, and instead just used them to his advantage. If Chanhee was right and it really was his soulmate, then all the more reason to do so. If they were using his hands then he was allowed to use their artsy prowess.

All was fair in love and art.

It was on the last day of his final submission, as the art prodigy was finishing his final touch-ups of his now so-called portrait series of weirdly strange people, that he got the sudden urge to just stitch. His fingers shook with desire even though he clamped his hands into fists and gritted his teeth, forcing his limbs to continue working. Pins and needles shot up and down his arms like alarm bells, tearing at his muscles and nagging at Kevin’s subconscious. The more he tried to ignore it, the more the sensation pricked, until it actually hurt.

He dropped his paintbrush and gave in to the sensation. His body reacted on its own, dashed over to one of the unused sewing machines and grabbed a piece of cloth. Five minutes later, he was busy stitching his life away on the machine, the only sounds perforating the air being the loud drumming of the needles piercing through cloth.

Twenty minutes later, barely two minutes before he was to drop his artwork to his teacher’s office, Kevin leaned back in his seat and stared, wide-eyed, at the donut plushie he’d just made.

What astounded him the most was that he didn’t --for the love of god-- know how to sew. He never took any sewing classes and had never really been interested in the field anyway.

So how in the world had his hands worked on their own? He gazed down at his hands with growing horror and apprehension twisting his stomach into tiny knots. Why? Why why why?

“Kevin? What are you still doing here?”

The said young man’s head whipped up at the sound of his classmate’s voice, only to see the ginger-haired girl blinking at him with confusion etched across her features.

“Are you--stitching?” her frown deepened.

Kevin rose without as much as a wince when the metal of his chair scraped against the cement floor before dashing over to gather his paintings. He jostled out of the classroom, ignoring his classmate’s questions while lumbering down the hall as quickly as his artwork would allow him towards the teacher’s department.

He wished he didn’t have to meet his soulmate.

------

“Can I tell you something?”

Kevin looked up from underneath his beanie at Jacob, who sat on the other side nursing a cup of tea. The hot chocolate in his hand was steaming, its delicious scent already wrapping around him like a warm hug, giving him that sense of comfort he craved so much.

Prom had gone and passed without much that was memorable enough for Kevin to be deemed as important. As per Chanhee’s predictions, people started discovering their soulmates in the strangest ways possible, though the group of boys guessed it had something to do with what you were good at and what your soulmate’s passion was. For instance, a girl had found herself going for a midnight swim, only for her reflection to be of a young man living just a few weeks ago from hers. Another boy had the sudden urge to take a ballerina class and was entranced by a picture of his soulmate hanging on the wall of the ballet studio.

As of yet, none of the trio had caught any glimpse of their other halves, and Kevin hoped it stayed that way. After all the incidents that had occured in art class and the countless whims that had taken over his body like he’d been possessed, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know who held the other part of his heart.

What if she was a psycho? He asked himself as he gazed at his drink, what if she was completely not like him and they’d made a mistake from the very beginning?

“What is it?” Kevin prompted his friend. Jacob’s eyes were downcast, the muscles in his jaw clenching as though haunted by his own thoughts.

“Jacob?” Kevin’s fingers toyed with his unlit cigarette. He’d been craving it for the past thirty minutes and now that Chanhee was gone, he was free to do as he pleased. He fished for his lighter and started flicking a flame over the cigarette butt.

“I found her.”

Kevin almost did a double-take. He dropped his cigarette, “what?”

Jacob nibbled on his lower lip, “I found her, I found my soulmate.”

There were many things Kevin wished to say. He decided to keep quiet.

Jacob continued, encouraged by his silence, “I was cooking, the usual. You know I love cooking. So I was making this dish of grilled vegetables and grabbed my knife to cut them all. And then I--And then, I--she--she appeared. In the knife--in it’s reflection, I mean.”

Still, Kevin stayed quiet.

“She’s--She’s not bad looking,” there was the tiniest of smiles, barely visible, on his friend’s face and though Kevin wasn’t an expert on reading emotions, it was pretty obvious that Jacob was already smitten for that girl in particular.

“How do you know you like her?” he asked so abruptly that Jacob blinks in shock.

“Well--I don’t know I--I just do. I think?” the latter scratches the back of his head, “I don’t know, Kev. There’s just--something about her. I can’t really explain. You’ve gotta see for yourself.”

“Hm” was all that Kevin managed to sputter out as he picked up his cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.

“Chanhee won’t like that,” remarked his friend.

“Chanhee’s not here to tell me what to do.”

“Did you even try to stop?” there was a tinge of desperation in Jacob’s voice, “we’re not in school anymore. You don’t need that to cope, you know.”

The raven-haired man exhaled in response, smoke billowing out of his perfectly cupped lips.

He wasn't into his soulmate. Had no interest whatsoever in knowing who laid behind the magic taking over his fingers every time he found himself in the art room. It hadn't occurred since his last deadline and for that, he was glad, because while it clearly hadn't been his style of drawing, his professors had been so touched with emotional depth that they gave him a distinction with passing colours.

Needless to say, Kevin hadn't set yet another foot in the studio.

He really didn't feel like knowing who had messed up his entire style for the sake of her own artistic endeavours.

The summer went by and grades were up. People shouted with excitement at the prospect of last minute freedom before college would take it away this coming September. Kevin had enrolled in Mathieu's School of Art and Design as a Printmaking major -- his dream was to work in textile and fashion-- while Jacob had decided to take up an apprenticeship with the local Culinary School in town. It wasn't the best, but it would do for his first few steps into the culinary world.

As for Chanhee, who was going down the safe route, he was registered to complete his ACCA certification for chartered accountants.

"Keep in touch guys, yeah?" Chanhee had tearfully stated on their last day of summer, where the trio had taken to drink at their local pub.

Kevin clinked his beer with his, his spirits quite high at the prospect of starting a new life, turning over a new leaf, "worried you might not make friends?"

Jacob shot Kevin a look, then said, "relax Chanhee. You'll be fine. You'll probably be the only one making friends."

"Shut up guys, you're not helping," Chanhee sniffed.

It was a somewhat bizarre sensation to be walking to school without Jacob and Chanhee at his side. Kevin's bag felt a little heavier upon his shoulders, his traveling a little longer than usual albeit the fact that his college was barely two minutes away from his high school, just across the street. Kevin's nervousness racked up the back of his throat, practically choking him as he made his way to his first class: illustration design.

Comprising only ten chairs, the class was round, its walls painted a sheer white and the spotlights illuminating the room casting long dark shadows across each head already seated. Kevin quickly hurried over to the back where he took his place.

The girl beside him shifted slightly, but he preferred not to acknowledge her existence. Instead, he slid his sketchbook from his bag and started doodling on the corner of the page, next to where he wrote the date.

It was only when the teacher walked in and the girl's pen suddenly dropped to the floor, and Kevin swooped in like muscle reflex and gave it back, that his eyes caught her face-- he stared.

And stared.

She stared back, unblinking. Unflinching.

"Who--Who are you?" Kevin breathed, all air knocked out of his chest in surprise.

Her hand darted out, whipping the pen out of his hold and turning back to the professor without a backward glance. Astounded, Kevin hadn’t realized his mouth was still hanging open until he felt the warm trickle of saliva dribble down his chin.

He snapped his jaw shut and quickly turned back to focus on the class at hand, all while trying to ignore the weird buzzing that seemed to take over his entire nervous system. His body was heated, as if lit by a wildfire that raged through his insides and swept along his bloodstream so that he was left in a constant state of exhilaration, senses too alert and fingers prickling with the innate desire to just touch, touch her, no matter what.

Stop it, he told himself off. His mind raged back like an aggressive, untamed horse.

It took him so much of his energy not to do something stupid that he only came to attention when the sound of scraped back chairs reached his ears. Whipping his head up at the flow of people leaving the studio, he realized a little too late that the said girl in question was already halfway to the door.

He scrambled up so quickly he banged his shin. Cursing, he ignored its protesting throb as he raced towards her figure, “excuse me--”

Either the girl didn’t hear him through the throng of introductions being conversed by a group of students by the entrance, or she didn’t want to. Kevin pushed his way past students milling about the corridors, excusing himself as he went, before he finally caught up to her at the library door entrance.

“Wait--” he called, practically choking on his own breath. Jesus, he should really work out more. Pressing his hand over his side upon feeling the familiar cramp pinch in, he tried not to collapse in front of the girl, who was now gazing at him in a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Is there something you want?” she asked tightly.

“Well--I--Didn’t you--” Kevin racked his brain and wondered, for a brief moment, whether this soulmate thing was one sided, “didn’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Her eyes were growing more and more alarmed.

“You’re my soulmate,” the words left Kevin in a rush, “didn’t you feel the pull?”

Her mouth shaped itself into a silent ‘o’. Her eyes glanced at the floor for a few beats of silence. When she looked up at his face, her jaw was set and her eyebrows furrowed, “so?”

“So?” he gaped at her, “so?”

“Look, I don’t know how they treat people with soulmates in your country,” she shifted uneasily from one foot to another, “but in mine, they’re definitely not something to be proud of.”

He blinked, “you’re not from here.”

“No.”

“Where are you from?”

“Look, if you’re talking to me just because of that soulmate bullshit--”

“Can’t you feel it?” Kevin cut her off, hating the fact that his voice sounded so desperate and needy, “can’t you feel the bond?”

God Kevin. You sound like a wimp, his mind screamed at him. Get a hold of yourself.

“No,” she looked at him dead in the eye, “I don’t.”

And leaving him to deal with the aftermath of the shock, the girl turned and walked away, her soft footsteps echoing down the hallway like the beats to an ending song.

---

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO! :) Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist <3

97 notes · View notes

gildedmuse · 4 years

Text

So... I have this bad habit where sometimes, when attempting to summarize the idea for a fic, I go into waaay too much detail.

Like, I don't go as far as to actually wrote the damn thing because, you know, effort and laziness, but... Well, it's a close call. It gets to the point where it's less a summary and more what my friends use to call a Quick Fic. All that's .kissing is the actual dialogue and descriptive narration.

Having said that....

Here is a "summary" of an ZoLaw AU where Law works for Doflamingo...

What happened was, basically, Law got caught by Doflamingo after eating the devil's fruit which eventually allowed him to cure his dieses, thus why he's still alive. Or, at least, isn't dead from lead poisoning. Because let's face it, Doflamingo could have just killed the boy then and there. Sure, he'd have to find the fruit all over again, but better that the deal with this little traitor

Except really it was his brother who had been the traitor. Law is still just a child, and children can be so suspectable to any number of ideas so long as an adult gives them a pat on the head and a treat after.

Which is when Doflamingo realizes that he can just manipulate Law into being another loyal follower. Then eventually - when he's no longer useful - Doffy will have him sacrifice his life for his own immortality. By that point Law will be family, and family never lets Doffy down. Not anymore.

So it's under Doffy's personal tutorage that Law grows up, and as much as he might resit the man who imprisoned Corazon, it's hard not to eventually fall to all Doflamingo's sweet praise and promised. And Law gets what he had wanted all along: a way to get back at the world that willingly watched his home wiped off the official world map and would be happy to see the entire town dead to the very last one. This Law truly earns his title Surgeon of Death, acting as the top officer of Hearts in the Doflamingo crime family. And yet despite his cruelty, he isn't even on the government's wanted list; protected under the Shichibukai's jolly roger.

In the meantime, the Strawhats are still doing their thing right on through Punk Hazard (which they somehow manage to not only live through but actually do more damage and cause twice as much chaos. The biggest difference is that Ceaser and Monet escape and Sanji can't perv out over being in Nami's body). So this time when they roll into Dressrosa it's less "backing up the plan of an ally" and much more "on complete and total accident" and "without a damn clue".

Yeah, basically they're the Grand Line's easiest prey.

But, hey, it works out! Well, no, not really. But Sanji does meet Violet, Luffy meet Sabo and help recover Ace's devil's fruit, and Zoro does get lost and require a magic fairy guide. Plus, hey, since they're not really there for any purpose other than that they happened to be passing by, it's not like they can't pull a dine and dash. They may be unprepared, but The Monster Trio can still keep up the fight until everyone is back on the Sunny.

A perfect escape!

Except no.

Because Luffy isn't totally ready to leave, not when he wants to know more about what Sabo is doing and help his new friend Rebecca. Not that they have time to debate the merits of staying or pulling a tactical retreat since at that poing Big Momma is on their ass. And that scary dude in the long black coat is still somehow following them, teleporting himself through the fucking air like wtf why is this happening now!? Nami is forced to make an executive decision: they're can't stay. Also, oh God oh God they're trapped and they're going to be killed and oh God.

It's moments like these you're almost thankful one of your crew members is a total maniac. Because in the middle of all this mess, Zoro just smirks, tells Nami to just concentrate on getting away from that annoying ass ship, he's got their other attacker covered. Which only makes everyone freaks out MORE because what is Zoro thinking: he'll be killed! ("Not immediately, of course. First they'll likely torture him for information, perhaps even kill him as slowly as possible." / "What? Why would you say that? That is not SUPER helpful to hear right then!") The Sunny goes into an all out panic attack. Everyone is yelling or crying or both.

Except Luffy.

Luffy who looks at Zoro, at the singing ship, at the dark power user trying to slash their ship apart, at the shore line of this island and the way it radiates a fake happiness covering Rebecca's very real pain. Luffy who just lowers his hat over his eyes and gives the nod.

Zoro smiles, and is immediately almost clobbered by a giant Chopper. What is Luffy saying? Don't they realize that is the same guy who almost took down Sanji, Zoro AND Luffy only moments ago? Zoro can't fight him alone! Sanji, more calm than the rest, lights a cigarette while explaining that he's not trying to stop Zoro from getting himself killed or anything, but Chopper is right. That guy was incredibly tough, and there's no way Zoro can do it alone ("Shut up dartbrow! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! I could take him down with just the two swords! With one hand behind my back!" / "He already kicked your ass once, Marimo! Or have you forgotten because of all the head trauma!?" / "The only reason he kicked OUR asses is because YOU kept getting in my way you damn weak-ass cook!" / "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, IDIOT MARIMO!?") Franky tries to regulate the fight but he's busy blocking those deadly aimed slashes from hitting his poor ship while Brook and Kin'emon work on stopping the incoming cannon balls. Either way they're going to have to do something SUPER fast if they want to get out of here. Yeah, Luffy, we need an actual plan. We can't just send Zoro out to-

"Zoro", Luffy says and despite everything going on around them the deck of the Sunny goes really quiet. They all know that tone. "Zoro, I need you to take care of this until we can get back. I still need to kick Mingo's ass for a friend."

At the sound of his captain's no nonsense voice, Zoro is suddenly easily able to stand, shrugging off the pile of people trying to stop him from jumping to his death (and by pile of people I do mean the coward trio and Sanji, who is mostly just trying to get in a few kicks). He draws Wado, clutching the katana in his teeth and yet still somehow manages what you know is a smirk. It's a promise.

And like that, Zoro is launching himself right into the blue sphere of the battle.

A battle against one of Doflamingo's top officers. A devil's fruit user with a twisted heart and home field advantage. Needless to say, it does not end well for our hero.

—🧡—

Although, Law has to give his rival swordsman some credit. He has his share of fun toying with the boy, and despite never standing any real chance of victory Law can admit the strawhat pirate puts up a better fight than most. Far better than Law had been expecting from some one so new to the New World (supposedly he got Mihawk to agree to train him, but Law has met the Hawk Eye and finds the idea utterly absurd). Then there is the way his smile had just an edge of what Law could only call manical delight, even when it became clear he'd long lost. This greenhaired kid really is stupid enough to believe his captain will come back for him. As though he would come charging back into Doflamingo's territory a second time just to retrieve a single crew member. One who was not only crazy enough to sacrifice himself but couldn't even win the fight. At the same time the swordman's loyalty and faith - as misplaced as it is - is kind of... Adorable. Who knew someone could come so far on the Grand Line and still be so innocent?

Law immediately wants to corrupt it.

Thes other family members will whine tell you, Doffy has always had... Let's say... A "soft spot" for Law. He's spoiled that brat for years, is what they mean but don't dare to say. Sure enough, Law barely has to work to talk Doffy around to letting him personally see to the prisoner's arrangements. Doflamingo is a little suspecious at first (he can never truly trust Law, not after the Corazon incident), but he quickly dismisses it. He's had the Heart Officer's loyalty for years now.

Of course, when he sees the spark of interest light in his apprentice as they eye their newest spoils of war, he can't help but tease Law. After all, Zoro is quite an enticing young man and Law isn't the only one there who likes pretty things. They're so fun to destroy which - judging from the way Law shivers when Doffy runs a hand through thick green hair before yanking the boys head back against the wall hard enough to leave the young captive panting and dizzy - is precisely his protege's plan.

(Doflamingo also happens to know Zoro almost definitely had trained under Mihawk, and he would love to see his fellow warlord's eyes flash with barely contained anger when he learns how Doflamingo has broken his favorite toy. It's not his fault - Mihawk is always so uptight and repressed, it makes agonizing him too much fun for Doflamingo to resist.)

In the end, though, he knows when Law's determination is set. And for whatever reason the boy has decided he absolutely has to be the one to keep their guest "comfortable" while his captain makes up his mind on what he'll do. So Doflamingo only teases for a bit - touches a little, plays with the barely conscious boy kneeling at his feet, enjoys the way Zoro still has enough spirit left to try taking bite when Doffy's fingers trail to close to his bloody lips (oh, and, what a joy! Law nearly growls at the prospect of not being the one to ruin the boy!) - but eventually he stops his little game. He gives in, telling Law to have fun with his treasure. He is the one who took him down after all. It is only fair he keeps him.

Just try not to completely break the poor thing, not until Strawhat returns for him.

Law snorts at the very idea. This is hardly the first time they'd done this. He's never seen a single captain try and retrieve their stolen property (he has of course, but he doesn't remember them). He doesn't see why Strawhat-ya would be particularly special.

Before Doflamingo can come up with a clever, vague answer about Law trusting him, Zoro suddenly gives a bark of laughter that would have scared lesser men senseless. It only serves to draw the two men's interest back to their little pet.

Luffy won't come back for him, Zoro confirms, much to Law's surprise (he personally never thought Strawhat-ya would, but then why would the swordsman sacrifice himself so willingly for a man he has so little faith in?) and has Doflamingo raising an eyebrow in.... Interest. Zoro looks at both of them with no fear, like he hadn't taken a humiliating defeat and is even now bloody and chained up, helplessly listening in on these two infamous pirates talk about him like he is a mere object. Actually, if anything, he appears to be wearing a smirk under all that blood. Because he knows something they don't.

Luffy won't come back for him, because his captain knows Zoro doesn't need to be rescued.

To Law, this makes Zoro look like an even sweeter treat. Doflamingo is simply amused, remarking that perhaps their little pup has yet to realize the leash around his neck is shaped like a noose.

Zoro meets his gaze, steady yet daring. He promised Luffy that he'd take care of it, and so that is what he will do. He'll never go back on his word, especially when it comes to his captain. Something Doflamingo with his distrusting and fear-toed crew couldn't understand. So see, their plan to use Zoro as bait will never work, because Zoro swore to Luffy that he'd be take care of it. So he will. Luffy has enough faith in Zoro that he'd never believe anything less and would never turn around out of doing to try and mount a rescue.

No, when Luffy comes back it will be for the sole purpose of kicking Doflamingo's ass.

The mood darkens. In a flash, Doflamingo is in back in front of him, yanking Zoro forward by the chin. He squeezes hard enough to bruise. You can hear the cracking of bone as he explains to Zoro exactly how precarious his current position is only to grow second by second more frustrate by Zoro's completely lack of fear. So he squeezes harder. He slams the boys head back into the wall and starts smiling when he gets a since from the stoic swordsman.

Before he can do any real damage Law steps in, reminding Doffy that he promised him he could have the boy. And just like that, Doflamingo's whole mood appears to shift back to calm. He puts on his fake smile and let's Zoro go, even pets the boy's hair. Of course, he had promised. And he, too, is a man of his word. Something Zoro will surely learn in time now that he is one of them.

Zoro, now with blurred vision and the taste of fresh blood on his tongue, is smart enough not to answer. But not smart enough to lower his head or try and appear humbled. Lucky for him, Doflamingo decides the boy isn't worth it. When he turns around he notes the hungry way Law is eyeing the kneeling prisoner behind him. Which brings a crueller, yet more genuine, smile to Doffy's featurss. The Strawhats vice captain may act invincible now, but he's never faced Doflamingo's own Surgeon Of Death. As disinterested and put off as Law might usually act, the boy can be dangerously twisted. He's sure his top officer will break the young pirate down bit by bit - both literally and figuratively - long before his captain can come running back in to try and find him (and Doflamingo is sure Strawhat will, no matter what Zoro might think).

He leaves with one last reminder to Law not to completely shatter the infamous Pirate Hunter. No, Doffy would hate to see their newest family member treated so poorly, especially seeing as he has much bigger plans in store for the young Mr. Roronoa. Specifically, he wants to see the face of Monkey D Luffy when he watches as the last bit of his first mate's spirit broken.

And because Doffy practically raised the boy and knows exactly the right buttons to push, he decides to give Law a little extra motivation to bring Zoro to that point. Just in case that interest turns into something dangerous like longing or - laughable as it is - actual fondness. It's so simple, too: as he walks by he simply whispers how there is nothing like crushing the heart of unrequited love.

It will be such a treat, tearing Zoro from his captain, and watching Luffy realize he's lost his chance to love the other man, wouldn't it Law? What a truly tragic romance. It almost makes you hope the two of them at least had some time together. Law didn't happen to give them a moment along before forcing Zoro to throw himself into the fight, hmm? Just a small, precious second or so for the two to share a final kiss. After all, not even Doffy is so cruel as to deny the poor boys such a tender moment.

Sure enough, Law's eyes immediately narrow and Doflamingo can feel the jealousy rolling off him. Not because Law gives a damn for their prisoner's feelings - Doflamingo raised him better than that - but he always has had a possessive streak. Having taken an interest in the swordsman, he will hate the thought that the boy might even think of another or that Law won't be the first to possess him in ever possible way.

Doffy leaves with a cruel, deep laugh. He can't wait until dinner, when he may just happen to remember the rumours about his "friend" Mihawk and his taking a young green-haired boy under this wing and in to his bed. By tomorrow he suspects every part of Zoro's body will bare at least some mark that he now firmly belongs to no one but Trafalgar Law.

52 notes · View notes

be-dazzled · 4 years

Photo

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser Genre: Multi-chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for sensitive language and content

It gives me sweet little pains in my heart Like a sweet little rain, that falls for a flower And that's love A new kind of love

– A New Kind of Love, Skylar Grey

The sun had already set when the little party ended at the Home for Boys. The day ended with hugs and high fives, some ugly cries too – from the big guys, not the kids. The team promised to be back the next year. Even with that promise, goodbyes weren’t really that easy. Juvia had to comfort a sobbing Mika all the way to the presidential car. She said it never gets easier.

After a laughter-filled dinner and teasing, Gray invited Juvia to walk off the carbs. He took her to the back part of the house, to the most beautiful flower-filled garden Juvia has ever seen.

Mika Mine hand-grown the flowers in her garden. She started with just some dark pink Geraniums she liked sitting around the house. Not until she found that large blank canvass behind her mansion that the Mine matriarch eventually developed a certain fondness getting her hands dirty, waking up early to water them and most of the time, talk to her plants. She said it was therapeutic, helping her cope with the stress. Gray uneasily admitted he was almost always the reason for her stress. So, her mother named that garden after him.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Juvia was sure Mika Mine’s garden would have been very beautiful under the brightest shine of the sun. She took a note to come visit the “Stressful Gray Garden” in the morning. Tonight, she took the time appreciating the living attraction in the silence of the evening. It was simply magical.

Illuminated by natural moonlight, Gray and Juvia covered the narrow pathway, bathed in cold breeze and silver light. On either side of the pathway were beautiful, fully bloomed flowers on trimmed shrubs. But they cleared the path that led somewhere more beautiful, as Gray promised.

“More beautiful than these flowers borne out of the stress you caused?”

Juvia looked around the backyard garden. Mika Mine outdid herself. Or Gray was just a stressful fellow to raise. Page Six did a good retelling of how Gray painted the town red. Looking around the fully bloomed buds around the ‘stress garden’, Juvia had a feeling she didn’t know the half of it. Different kinds and colors scattered around, giving life to Mika’s green-thumb project, like fresh from a Monet painting. If Olivia Lockser saw this, she would have begged Gray’s mother to become best of friends or maybe died of jealousy. That’s a thought.

“Yes. But not as beautiful as my girlfriend.”

Gray pulled her to a stop. As a gentleman who had his fair share of women, Gray knew that off-hand ‘more beautiful’ comment would read as ‘even than your girlfriend?’ He crossed the small distance between them and got himself that kiss that he’d been waiting for. It was just a brief brush of the lips, like a kiss shared in children’s books, at the end of the story, when the prince and the princess lived happily ever after. One innocent kiss like that came so naturally.

Juvia wiped the stain of lipstick that transferred on Gray’s lips. Then, she took his hand, taking the lead this time. They walked down the narrow path, side by side. Her small hand was clasped in his bigger one, her slender fingers intertwined with Gray’s. She leaned on Gray every now and then, wanting and needing the contact. They exchanged stories here and there, talking about nothing much really, until they reached the end of the paved path and a silhouette of a familiar structure emerged.

“That, girlfriend, is my favorite part of this house.”

The ground they stood on was abruptly cut by a grassy, shallow slope, right before the rectangular pavement began. Gray guided the ballerina down the sloping garden, watchful over Juvia who was trying not to lose her footing, and held her hand as he ushered Juvia onto the flat surface.

“Stay here.”

Gray’s absence was quickly missed. It made the breeze feel colder against the skin. Juvia enveloped her arms around her own frame to fight the chill. Her eyes never left the figure jogging towards a shed. Even through the dimness, Juvia saw Gray pushing a lever. The light coming from the lamp posts standing at each corner flooded the playing surface. In the floodlit view, Juvia could make out the unmistaken round hoop attached to the backboard; the rectangular pavement bordered by freshly cut-grass. Juvia knew enough about basketball to recognize the lines painted on the pavement. Although, it did seem to have seen better days. There were obvious wear and tear, a few repairs here and there. When the mansion decided to move forward, that particular part of the house was left behind.

She lost Gray for a moment, not finding him where has just a minute ago. Next thing she knew, her boyfriend was standing next to a covered cart near the stone bench. He peeled off the cover, bent over to pick one ball out. Gray remained standing, feeling the rubber skin in his palms, taking his time, like some sort of ritual. He then waved his girlfriend to come.

Juvia crossed the paved court, her purposeful steps synced with the bounce of the ball in Gray’s hand. But instead of running toward the ring to show off a perfect shot, as Juvia expected, Gray replaced the ball inside the cart. He met her half-way and led Juvia to rest at the stone bench.

“Man, I spent most of my childhood here.” shared Gray. He turned to Juvia, who remained quiet, and held her gaze. “This is where everything began, you know.” The usual confidence in Gray’s smile was hidden safe for the time being.

Gray left her side and covered the pavement with sprints toward the middle of the court. His absence allowed the breeze to touch on her exposed skin, penetrating through the fabric of her clothes.

“My first shot.” He dribbled an imaginary ball and pretended to shoot the same, flicking his wrist like the pro that he was. Juvia imagined the ball went in perfectly and she clapped, humoring him with his ‘play pretend’ game. Then, Gray scampered over to much nearer the ring, executing the familiar two-step footwork before he jumped off his left foot and shoot with his left arm. The ball would have hit the backboard and went into the hoop without miss.

“My first lay-up.” He made a quick chuckle. “It wasn’t a good one. That I admit.”

Gray dashed back to the center, the tip of one shoe nearly touching the white paint which Juvia recognized as the three-point line. Hoopster had his proper posture down to a T: with feet shoulder-width apart; his dominant foot ahead the other; knees bent at the perfect angle; his toned body and shoulders squared toward the basket. His dark blue eyes were unrelenting, drilling a hole on his target. Juvia has seen it far too many times, but every time Gray fell into that stance, her heart skipped a beat. Like any minute now, something magical was about to happen. That’s how he always made her feel. Gray held the ball above his head, elbows bent in the perfect degree, then he snapped his wrist, ending his signature three-point shot with a perfect follow through. Juvia was back at the lower box of the Fairy Academy Dome, her heart in her throat as she and the rest of the roughly six hundred basketball fans waited at the edge of their seats.

His sharp blue eyes, now staring at Juvia’s mesmerized ones, pulled the ballerina out of her reverie. He resumed his rightful spot next to her at the stone bench, drawing a long, slow breath. That little prancing around the court didn’t tire him out. Gray didn’t even break a sweat but showing off to his girlfriend did exercise his lungs.

“My dad always said, ‘Gray… if you. Want to set yourself apart from the others, you need a signature’. He decided, right there and then, that three-point shots would be mine.” He relayed to Juvia. “He trained me day and night until I perfected that shot.” Those perfect three point shots that eventually earned him his nickname.

To Juvia, it sounded like the Fullbuster patriarch was a believer of putting in the time. She knew now where Gray got his hard-working disposition. She believed in that too… nothing of value was ever borne out if taking it easy. Juvia believed in the hustle, too. His father may have had all the connections to make her dream a reality sooner but Juvia was never one to want everything handed to her.

“Or passed out, whichever came first.”

He tried to play it off as a joke but Juvia could see no humor in Gray’s eyes nor that forced smile – because he was talking about his father. Once, when they were just starting to get along, Silver’s name was mentioned in passing. Juvia remembered how his expression turned serious and how Gray quickly changed the subject. It was obvious back then that it was a touchy subject, one Gray would rather not talk about. Ironic, considering how Gray was considered an open book, his tales of gallivanting making headlines. But Juvia understood, that topic was too personal for Gray. This was the first time that the elusive Hoopster was the first to mention Silver Fullbuster to her, which only meant one thing – he trusted her. She knew better than laugh. Juvia sought his hands, took them in hers and giving them a gentle squeeze – one that told him that she was there. This time, she was going to be there for him, like how he was always there for her. It was Juvia’s chance to show Gray that she was going to be the one he could rely on; the one he could trust with his heart. If she could, Juvia would have eased the pain she knew was still there. A big chunk of Gray’s heart was still missing. But there wasn’t much she could do but to lend an ear. Her soft gaze told him she was ready to listen.

Gray heaved out another breath, preparing himself for the outpour.

“I miss him every day, you know. He was my best friend.”

Gray wasn’t looking at Juvia. He was staring at somewhere at the court, remembering. A bittersweet smile touched his lips, eyes looking out at the empty court as if he was watching the figures play on the paved ground – Silver and an eight-year-old Gray.

“He trained me in this very ground. Sometimes, we’d just play around all day until mom calls us for dinner.”

When Gray turned to the quiet ballerina, his eyes were different. The soul behind them was different. He was showing another side of him, one Juvia has yet to see. They said the eyes were the windows to the soul; that they held the truest, most genuine emotions. Tonight, those windows held his vulnerability.

“He wasn’t just my coach, my strict trainer. He was my dad.”

Juvia knew she was only an audience, merely a listener. She didn’t say a word and continued to listen even through the shy moments of silence that filled the in-betweens. A few strands of black hair fell over his forehead. Juvia brushed it away from his face, tucking them back to that shock of coal-black hair.

“What I am now is all because of him.”

Honor and gratitude equally shone through his dark eyes. But there was another one hiding behind that shine – loss. He lost his father. The tears he was holding back was for that important person taken from him far too soon. Juvia knew of the pain of losing someone she loved but she could never fully understand what Gray went through, still going through. It was something that sticks with us no matter what happens.

“When I was in my senior year, my school was up for a championship in the regionals. He stayed behind because he wasn’t feeling well. That was a first for him because he was always present to all my games.”

It’s been more than a decade but the memory was as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

“The neighbors called my mom. They said dad was… my dad was on the way to the hospital. He had a heart attack.”

His last words felt like a silent whisper lost in the soft gust of wind.

“She hid it from me. My mom waited until I finished the tournament. And when I got there… when I got to the hospital,” Gray shifted in his position, his strong jaw tightening at the memory, at the long-forgotten anger that resurfaced. He faced Juvia, finally letting her see that side of him he never wanted to show people. And she saw the tears in his eyes that he tried to hold back. “It was too late. He was there, lying on the hospital bed. His doctor just…covered him in that… in that white sheet.”

He brushed away the tear that managed to fall and for some reason, an awkward chuckle erupted from him.

“I don’t even know why I’m still crying over it.” He said, harshly wiping the tears with his bare palm.

“It never really goes away.” offered Juvia.

“For years I’ve blamed my mother. I blamed her because I couldn’t even properly say goodbye. Then, basketball.” Gray huffed. “God, I hated basketball.”

Juvia remembered that silent, blank space in his career. When he graduated from High School, everybody expected Gray to be the first to be picked out for the draft season. No one ever heard from him since the news of his dad’s passing.

“I should have stayed, you know. I should have been there for him.”

Regret clouded his dark blue eyes like an unkind storm rolling in.

“It isn’t your fault, Gray.”

Gray visibly gulped.

“I know that. But for so long I’ve been so angry at everyone around me.” He struggled to bit back the sob. “If I hadn’t met Natsu at that orphanage, I would have never went back to basketball.”

“Is that why the Home was so important to you?”

His only answer was a gentle smile followed by a stretch of silence. Juvia thought Gray didn’t want to continue but he did.

“I realized, basketball was only way I can feel closer to him. When I touch that rubber ball, the rough texture of its skin, the smell of the rubber, the beat when it hits the floor, suddenly, I was back here.” He didn’t need to point to the open space. “In this court, with my dad, teaching me how to properly hold my first ball.”

He gave her a small smile, a result of a mixed feeling of gratitude and regret.

“That’s why I can never hate basketball ever again.” He expelled a breath that felt like a finality, like an end. The worst part was over. “Why are you crying?”

Juvia laughed it off, looking like some crazy woman as she frantically rubbed her eyes. She told Gray she didn’t even know why. That wasn’t true. Juvia was crying for him, for all the bad things he went through and for all the good things that came after. She couldn’t feel more proud of him, of how Gray overcame that painful moment in his life. Not all could recover from that loss. But Gray was strong. A warm feeling swelled up in her chest. Juvia was grateful he was able to overcome his rock bottom. Now, he was on top of the world.

Gray reached to Juvia, cradled her wet cheeks between his palms. She leaned into the warmth of his hands. Juvia wished she could be there for him back then, to help him go. Through that darkness. That’s all in the past. All she could do was be here for him now.

“Look at us crying like idiots.”

They made a shared attempt to laugh. Then, Gray gathered her in his arms, lending his girlfriend heat against the night chill. But more so, feeling sorry for having Juvia go through all of that. Yet he was grateful to be able to get it off his chest. It wasn’t easy to be so out into the open, to even admit to any weakness. In his world, in basketball, there was no room for weakness. But even if he covered himself of layers and layers of defenses, at the very core he was still vulnerable. When he saw Juvia struggle through her dance albeit being a professional, seeing the stern, no-nonsense ballerina he first met being bothered by the small things as performance jitters or her paralyzing adoration for Aquarius, Gray realized that he didn’t have to keep up appearances all the time. That he could just be him – flawed and human.

Hoopster rested Juvia’s head against his chest, gently stroking waves of her long, silky hair while Juvia listened to his heart’s every beat.

“Man, after all the ugly crying, you still think your boyfriend is cool?”

He used to think that his pain was his weakness. It did almost ruin his career and his future once. He was never going to let that happen. He was never going to let his emotions get the better of him. So, Gray went through all those superficial relationships, if he could even call them that, and worldly fun, albeit fleeting. But now he decided it was time to break down the wall. He was ready to allow himself be vulnerable.

“Much cooler.” answered Juvia as she snuggled into his hard chest. “Much, much cooler.”

Because now he wasn’t just some fantasy Gray Fullbuster that was perfect at everything. He was real.

---

Writer’s Corner: Allowing yourself be vulnerable in front of that person you love, I don’t think it can get any realer than that. As promised, this is a double chapter posting since, as you noticed, this chapter is a little short.

P.S. We got a new design because we are entering a new age.

tags: @ship-ambrosia @juviaafullbuster @keencreatormuggoop @sasskiiia @anaken101 @mika-milano @icelyn20 @gruviafanficsyo @nay-ssi @shampooneko @hiccstridhumour @shounenmangaotphell @ftmains @sobatsu @freeezingrain @gruvia-galaxy @tinyvoidtrash @juvialockseroff @jetblackrevival @cobblepottantrum

#gray x juvia #gruvia #she's in your court #siyc #be-dazzled #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #fairytail #fairytail fanfics #gruvia fanfics #gruvia au #modern gruvia #gruvia fanfic

52 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (17) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey angels! thank u for ur patience, here is yet another chapter of the hellscape that is n19f. as i said on my blog, u will either love this chapter or hate it. either way let me know what u think!! this is a big chunky one at 13k (ik i’m treating u during this quarantine) so grab ur snacks and settle in. lots of love, byeee!

trigger warning: a little light drinking xo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Scarlet celebrated her birthday by helping Nina win back Monet, a surprise party organised by her girlfriend, and a suspiciously civil Brooke and Vanjie.

this chapter: from one birthday to another, the gang heads out to the country to celebrate Brooke and Akeria’s 22nd. everyone seems back on good terms, but will the combination of hide and seek, truth or dare, a hot tub and of course a lil bit of alcohol change anything?

***

“Holiday!...da-da-da-dum-dum-daaa, Celebrate!”

Brooke rolled her eyes, unable to help herself laughing as Nina rolled her suitcase towards Monet’s car. “It’s hardly a holiday, is it, girl? Overnighter in an airbnb in the middle of buttfuck nowhere?”

“Listen, I’ll take what I can get, thank you very much,” Nina raised her eyebrows, as Monet lifted the door of the boot up and Nina heaved her case inside.

“Oh, what a compliment,” Monet quipped from beside her, Brooke making a sick noise as Nina slid her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and gave her a squeeze.

“Not with girlfriends, obviously. You’re a Tesco Finest girlfriend. Not a smartprice girlfriend,” Nina explained, Monet smiling proudly and nuzzling their noses together. Brooke already wanted to vomit and she wasn’t even car sick yet.

“Pack it in, bitches, or Monet’s uninvited,” she deadpanned, pushing herself off the wall she was currently leaning against and looking up at her bedroom window, ignoring the girls’ shouts of indignation. “Right, have you got everything, yeah?”

“Have you seen the size of this bitch’s suitcase? I think she has literally managed to pack your kitchen sink,” Monet cocked an eyebrow at Nina, who elbowed her in the ribs. Nina produced her phone from the pocket of her dungaree dress.

“Hey Google, can you divorce your girlfriend?” she asked into the speaker, Monet howling a laugh and shoving her.

“Seriously, guys, I haven’t packed enough anti-sickness tablets for this,” Brooke said dryly, making her way to the passenger door.

“Oh, are you planning on recreating the great rail replacement bus fiasco of ‘18?” came a voice, Brooke turning round and narrowing her eyes at her smug flatmate, emerging through the door with her girlfriend and a small holdall bag.

“I was sat hungover opposite the toilet on a three hour coach journey, what the hell else was I expected to do?” Brooke defended herself. Yvie sat down on the wall outside their building, Scarlet joining her.

“Hmm, all I’ll say, Monet, is that I hope you have at least three empty plastic bags in the back seat with her,” she advised smugly, Brooke wishing she was still leaning against the wall so she could shove her off it.

“When is Plastique coming for you guys? Can I arrange for you to be sitting in the middle of the road when she drives up it?”

“Hey, what the fuck did I say?!” Scarlet yelped, outraged.

“You’re a bystander, Scarlet, and a bystander is worse than a bully,” Nina remarked sagely, Monet nodding along in support.

“Besides, I’m allowed to bully Brooke. It’s part of the lease,” Yvie shrugged, fixing the huge round sunglasses that had been on the top of her head and positioning them so they were right at the bridge of her nose. The March sunshine was welcome; it made Brooke feel happy, optimistic of things to come. Even the small scrub of grass out the front of their stairwell had bright purple, yellow and white bulbs poking through it, bringing a defiant sense of beauty to their surroundings. Brooke had been so pleased with the weather when she’d opened her curtains that morning that she’d packed a bunch of clothes she usually reserved for the summer. It felt odd wearing her denim skirt without the black tights she’d clad herself in for the past three months, but it was a welcome feeling. Yvie hadn’t really seemed to get the Summery memo other than her sunglasses- a huge knitted jumper covered in holes hung off her skinny frame and a pair of thick exercise leggings kept her legs warm.

“You couldn’t spruce yourself up a bit for my birthday, bitch? I feel like any minute now you’re going to start dancing around the street moulting straw singing about how you desperately want a brain,” Brooke smirked, Yvie simpering a fake smile and giving her the finger in response.

“It’s only fifteen degrees, Brooke, it’s hardly time to crack out the Kopparberg and blast T Shirt Weather yet,” Scarlet laughed. It was a bit hypocritical, Brooke thought as she looked Scarlet’s outfit up and down- a floaty, lacey dress and a pair of white Adidas- but of course she would defend her girlfriend. It wasn’t actually fair, contemplated Brooke. Scarlet and Yvie would always team up, so would Monet and Nina. Brooke had to fight all her battles herself.

“Besides, your birthday is over! Move on, hoe,” Yvie smiled, running forward and shaking Brooke’s shoulders relentlessly as the other girls laughed uproariously in the background. Brooke laughed and batted her away, knowing she was just joking. As she shoved her friend off of her, a familiar grey Audi drove up their street and pulled in behind Monet’s car. Plastique gave her horn a little beep, waving and rolling down her window.

“Let’s ride, bitches! I’m so ready for this weekend,” she squealed, as Yvie and Scarlet rushed to shove their bags in the boot of her car.

“I think I’ve been ready since we booked it,” Nina sighed, stretching. “Right, let’s go, girls! Dun-duun-da-na-na-dun dun.”

As Nina continued singing Shania Twain and hopped in the passenger seat of Monet’s car, Brooke passed by Plastique’s window and gave her hand a squeeze. “You know how to get there, yeah?”

“Up the motorway then off at junction 4 and then just follow all the signs for the B road. We good,” she nodded, then gave a laugh. “Kiki’ll probably end up in France somehow, you know what her sense of direction is like.”

“Yeah, but she’s got Silky and Vanj to direct her. She’ll be fine,” Brooke shrugged, thumping on Plastique’s door and making for the other car. “Right, see you ladies at the airbnb!”

Monet blasted her horn once, twice, three times as Brooke dashed into the back seat and buckled up. As Nina connected her phone to the aux cord and started blasting typically Nina-ish cheesy music, Brooke felt an excited little smile creep up on her face, slapping her hands against her thighs to the beat. The past almost-a-month had gone by quickly, and Brooke and Akeria’s shared birthday trip away had arrived before Brooke had known it. It had been booked on a whim, an excited message from Akeria on the group chat about a potential birthday night out had grown arms and legs until suddenly the girls were all transferring her money for a night in the country to jointly celebrate her and Brooke’s birthdays. They had turned 22 within ten days of each other, and the girls had all decided that the amount of money they would have spent on two big nights out- Ubers, big bottles of vodka for pres, club entry, club drinks and cheesy chips at the end of the night- probably equated to the same, if not more, than the amount they would drop on a boujie house in the country. The house they had booked was huge- five big bedrooms with floor to ceiling windows, a lounge straight out of a murder mystery drama with plush sofas, towering bookshelves and a massive roaring fire, a kitchen with a table big enough to fit them all round and an aga with what seemed to be a thousand burners- though whether anyone would know how to work the damn thing was anyone’s guess, Brooke thought with a snort. The icing on the cake of the whole place, though, was a huge section of outdoor decking with a hot tub set in the middle of it. To most of the girls it would be like living somebody else’s life for the weekend, but, Brooke thought mischievously, to Plastique it would probably seem the same as a weekend at home.

Brooke was glad they could all do something like this, go away together after what had happened. She didn’t really know what had happened to Vanessa to make her warm up to her so unexpectedly. It had all started when they were preparing for Scarlet’s birthday surprise; Brooke remembered how hard her heart had been beating that morning as she’d known it was the first time she’d be properly seeing Vanessa since they broke up, having to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans as the door to the kitchen had opened and Vanessa, Akeria and Silky had walked in. Akeria and Silky, to their credit, had been fine and normal with Brooke, despite the amount of dragging through the mud they had probably done to her name when they’d heard the news of her and Vanessa’s breakup. Vanessa, (understandably, thought Brooke) had hugged Yvie, Plastique and Nina, but not Brooke, the obviousness of the action lost in the frenetic melee of the girls seeing each other all at once. Brooke had preferred that, though. She wouldn’t have wanted the awkwardness of reminding herself how perfectly her arms seemed to fit around Vanessa, the brief scent of the Aussie shampoo she used in her hair, her head against her chest even for just the tiniest second.

After that, Vanessa had started with the digs. Brooke had thought she’d had malicious intent at first, until she got bored and decided to fire back.

(Yvie’s voice had yelled from the hallway. “Who’s made the cupcakes yet? Anyone?”

“Well if it’s Brooke, we all dyin’ tonight.”

“At least I can make something! How much do you drop on Deliveroo in a month, like, half your student loan?”)

With each verbal sparring match, Brooke had watched as the small, sardonic snorts Vanessa had given evolved into a full-blown beaming smile, the kind she always used to shoot Brooke’s way with the perfect white teeth and the tiny dimple and the little blush that hit her cheeks. It was almost painful knowing that Brooke had given up that smile. And that had been the moment. The moment that Brooke had finally admitted to herself what she’d been wanting to deny all this time- she deeply wished she hadn’t ended things with Vanessa, that she’d fought through the ick and given it at least more of a shot than she had. Now Vanessa had moved on and she was seeing someone else and she was happy. Happy without Brooke. Why had Brooke broken up with her so quickly?

She was an idiot.

“She was an idiot.”

Brooke snapped out of her trance, blinking and trying to figure out how Monet had managed to get inside her head. “What?”

“That woman. Blue car. Completely cut me off,” Monet rolled her eyes, frowning as she inched forward in the traffic until she was almost bumper to bumper with the car in question.

“Oh M'net, don’t start a fight,” Nina sighed, resting her knees against the glovebox.

“I’m not! I’m just letting a bitch know that her misconduct was noted,” Monet growled.

“Her misconduct was noted? God, you’re such a teacher,” Nina laughed, a big chuckle with loads of heart that made Brooke smile.

“Hey, so are you!”

“Stop fucking bickering or I will take your vocal cords and strangle you with them!” Brooke cried, tiring quickly. She watched Monet smirk in the rear view mirror.

“It’s alright, Neens. Just because Brooke’s jealous of happy couples and regrets breaking it off with Vanjie-”

“Wait what? I don’t…oh, Nina, for fuck’s sake! I told you not to tell anyone!” Brooke snapped, training accusatory eyes on her friend. After Scarlet’s birthday, she’d told Nina what she’d told Yvie, just in a little more detail, and she’d been more sympathetic than her other flatmate, making her tea and nodding understandingly as Brooke vented at her. Nina was usually good with secrets, a reliable and trustworthy friend. Brooke couldn’t understand why she would-

“Ahahaha!!! BITCH! You just totally exposed yourself! Oh my God!!” Monet screeched in time with her tyres, thumping her hand against the steering wheel. Brooke was confused, her heart still thudding. “Nina ain’t told me shit but I got eyes and ears, an’ I saw you two flirting at Scarlet’s. All damn day and night. You don’t act like that with someone you just broke up with.”

“Yeah I’m afraid you just spilled your own secret, Brooke,” Nina deadpanned from the passenger seat, giving a little laugh.

“Shit,” Brooke sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Great. Well, you probably think I’m a total asshole, Monet.”

“Hey, I’m a very chill person! You do you, girl. You wanna get with Vanessa for 3 months, break up with her for one and then get back with her again, that’s no business of mine,” Monet shrugged, a twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, I know I made a mistake, thanks,” Brooke sighed, biting her lip as she let her thoughts wash over her. Monet had a unique angle on the whole situation. She lived with Monique, of course, and that whole thing was still going on between her and Vanessa, if a message Vanessa had accidentally sent to the group chat last week was anything to go by. Brooke had wondered for days on end whether it had actually been an accident or not, the content of the message sending her crazy with jealousy as it was essentially just Vanessa begging Monique to come round and fuck her into the mattress. She’d considered whether or not it could have been deliberate, but the absolute roasting Vanessa had received afterwards from the other girls couldn’t have been worth it if it had. Brooke considered asking Monet for some inside knowledge, decided against it, and then did a U-turn as she concluded that her pride and dignity were already bruised so she might as well go the whole hog and shatter them.

“So, uh…Vanessa’s still seeing Monique.”

Monet ran her tongue over her teeth. “She’s certainly round at the flat a lot.”

“So is that, uh…I mean, do you think that’s going to turn into anything more, or…?”

“I don’t know, girl, I don’t know if it’s my place to say.”

This is like pulling teeth. “Do you think they-”

“They’re having a lot of sex.”

“Monet!” Nina burst out in a shocked laugh.

“What?! They are!”

“Excellent!” Brooke exclaimed sarcastically, staring out the window as the city around them turned into fields and the houses turned into service stations.

“C’mon, Brooke, you have to admit you do kinda deserve this a lil’ bit,” Monet laughed, Brooke rolling her eyes from the back seat.

“Right, both of you shut up. I’m officially banning any conversations about pining or relationships until we get to the house. We sing, we eat snacks, occasionally we play I Spy. That’s it,” Nina scolded them, turning around in her seat and staring Brooke down. Brooke had never felt more like a disgraced teenager in her life.

“Ughhhh, fine, Mom,” Monet groaned, changing up into fifth as they hit the motorway, the weekend becoming more real and making Brooke tingle with excitement despite the news she hadn’t wanted to hear.

Just as Nina had ordered them, the three girls spent the rest of the journey singing at the top of their lungs to Vengaboys, B*Witched and Cascada, Brooke on crisp duty as she passed the cavernous bag of barbecue rib McCoys forward every five minutes or so, Monet making hurried grabs at crinkle cut crisps in between changing gears. Brooke managed to avoid the dreaded travel-sickness that had plagued her since she was about six years old, much to Monet and Nina’s delight. The sun didn’t let up, and it still hung proudly in the sky as the girls pulled up the leafy, tree-lined driveway to the house they’d booked, the branches hanging low and curling around each other signalling they hadn’t been cut in a while. Spying Akeria’s Corsa and Plastique’s Audi already parked, Monet pulled up alongside the huge white house, the little set of three stone chimneys on the roof puffing out smoke and letting the girls know that at least one room wouldn’t be too cold inside. As Monet neatened up her parking, the sound of Silky’s screeching cut through the crunching of wheels against gravel, and the rest of the girls spilled out of the front door shortly afterwards. As soon as the car had stopped, Brooke excitedly hopped out of the passenger seat, hugging any girl she could reach. Before she knew it, she’d found herself pulling out of a quick hug with Vanessa, and the two were in front of each other.

“Hey,” Brooke decided quickly to speak first, setting the tone so there wouldn’t be any awkward pauses.

“Hey! How was your ride? Get here okay?” Vanessa asked politely, tucking a strand of her caramel hair behind one ear. She was dressed in a tiny little cropped black jumper and some faded grey jeans, Brooke trying to ignore her mind reminding her of how right it felt to wrap her arms around Vanessa again, how tiny her waist was and how much she wished she could go back for another hug- for fuck’s sake, cut that shit out.

“Uh, yeah! It was fine. Traffic wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

Vanessa let out a laugh. “Shit was like Wacky Races. Akeria nearly rammed some old cunt off the road. I’ve never seen road rage like it, we genuinely feared for our lives. Or her license. Oh my God, this house is insane. C’mon, you need to see it!”

There was a split-second where Brooke felt Vanessa tug at her hand, which was quickly dropped as if the action had never happened. It was almost as if Vanessa had been on automatic pilot; the ease with which she used to slip her hand into Brooke’s hadn’t been forgotten by either of them. And then Brooke felt Plastique leap onto her back like a monkey, and the girl was excitedly chattering away to her, and the moment had passed.

Brooke barely had time to take in the huge cream-painted hall with the varnished cream stairs stretching practically up to the ceiling when Plastique steered her down two steps and into the kitchen, grey stone tiles making Brooke’s feet feel cold even through her trainers and the huge wooden table overflowing with assorted snacks. Akeria and Scarlet clung to the rail of the AGA, the two girls clearly feeling the cold in the chilly kitchen.

“Did any of us actually bring a meal between us or are we just going to live off of Twirl Bites and Classic Dip Selections?” Yvie wondered, picking up a four-pack of various dips. Brooke laughed.

“Hey, there’s pizzas in the fridge! Do y’all really think I would let you starve?” Silky piped up, opening the huge fridge to reveal at least ten pizzas, more than they would eat in one night.

“Nobody goes hungry in the presence of Silky Nutmeg Ganache,” Plastique smiled proudly, holding her fist out for Silky to punch. As the girls’ fists connected, Brooke watched as Vanessa scraped a wooden chair out against the stone floor.

“You girls wanna have a munch and then get wrecked?”

“Hmm, if we get drunk too early then there’s no way we’ll be able to work this oven,” Scarlet shrugged, biting her lip and frowning.

“Yeah, we’re gonna struggle to operate this sober,” Monet considered, opening up one of the oven doors and investigating.

“Well how about we snack and then play a game? I wanna play hide and seek in here,” Nina bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. Akeria snorted.

“Hide and seek, you’re such a child. But to be fair, that could be fun. Or sardines.”

“What’s that?” asked Brooke. “I don’t know if we had that but called it something else.”

“That one where one person hides and everyone else seeks,” Yvie explained. “It’s way better. Way more chaotic.”

“Sweet. I’m down,” Brooke shrugged. She was glad that all of the girls she was friends with were happy to dick about and play kids’ games for an afternoon, and it was the kind of thing she’d miss when she graduated and would have to find a job.

The girls were all feeling peckish after their long drive, though, so they all grabbed the nearest snacks they could and headed upstairs to the living room, where Akeria had managed to start the fire which was crackling warmly in the huge marble fireplace. They all dumped their food on the huge glass-topped coffee table and had a little explore around the house before they relaxed. There was a surplus of bedrooms, and it had been agreed that since they were celebrating Brooke and Akeria’s birthdays, the two girls should have a bedroom to themselves each. Brooke’s bedroom had a huge bay window out to the rear of the house where the fields stretched for miles, and an actual four-poster bed.

“I can’t help but feel like you guys should take this room and I should take yours,” Brooke said with a pang of guilt for Yvie and Scarlet, who had dumped their things in the room they were sharing and had come to investigate Brooke’s.

Scarlet made a noise of discouragement. “No, it’s fine! This’ll get cold anyway, it’s so big. Our room’s cosier.”

Brooke watched Scarlet share a smile with her girlfriend and wrap both of her arms around Yvie’s. “Yeah, honestly, Brooke, it’s fine. Scarlet would manage to bump her head and toe and Christ knows what else on all four of the posts anyway.”

Scarlet burst out into offended laughter, letting the girls know that she secretly agreed a little bit.

“How’re the others?” Brooke asked, peering down the little corridor with the exposed wooden beams and hearing chatter and Monet’s deep laughter coming from the other rooms.

“Plastique, Silk and Vanj are all in together. I think V drew the short straw so she’s on the sofa bed,” Scarlet gave a shrug.

“That’s unfortunate,” Yvie commented, raising her eyebrows at Brooke slightly.

“Behave,” Brooke smacked her, not appreciating the implication. Vanessa had only just become friends with her again. They were hardly going to spend the entire night going at it like rabbits just because Vanessa wasn’t looking at her like she wanted to kill her anymore. “Come on, lovebirds. I feel like I haven’t shovelled enough crisps down my throat today.”

The three girls made their way to the living room again, where Nina and Monet were draped over the sofa and snacking on some sort of jelly sweets. Gradually the other girls joined them in drips and drabs and they spent the time chatting and gossiping in their usual way- about anything and everything under the sun. Brooke kept finding her eyes being drawn to Vanessa. It wasn’t entirely her fault- she was sitting opposite her, and often Brooke would find her already looking her way. Although that could have just been Brooke’s imagination. God, she didn’t even know anymore.

“Right!” Nina cried, as everyone looked dangerously close to slipping into a snack-induced coma. “Sardines time!”

“Kiki should hide first, it’s her birthday!” Silky argued immediately, Brooke only the tiniest bit affronted.

“Hey, hey, it’s Brooke’s birthday too. Also, I feel like y’all are way more enthusiastic than me about this, so I really don’t mind.”

“Brooke hides first!” Nina shouted unnecessarily. Brooke stood up from the sofa and rolled her eyes.

“Wait, so everyone is after me? Christ. This is like that nightmare I had about being on Hunted.”

“Good luck tryna squeeze that Jolly Green Giant-ass body into any of these cupboards, bitch!” Vanessa yelled across the room to uproarious laughter, Brooke turning round in time to see Vanessa stick her tongue out at her.

“Oh, like you can talk! Are you not the same size as an actual Subway sandwich?” Brooke bit back, sticking her tongue out right back and feeling an excited fizz in her stomach as she caught Vanessa blushing slightly as she laughed. As the other girls joined in with the mocking and all piled on each other, Brooke spotted two girls who weren’t laughing- Akeria and Silky were looking at each other knowingly, a look that seemed to convey disapproval. What the hell was their problem? If Vanessa was fine with her, then that meant there was no reason for the two of them to hold a grudge either, right?

Brooke frowned, trying not to read too much into it. She turned around and headed out the door. “Okay, count to 100 then, bitches!”

As she heard the others all start chanting descending numbers like a terrifying cult of mathematicians, Brooke began dashing around the house for a place to hide. She ran past the bedrooms, assuming that the others would check there straight away. Brooke considered going behind the porch door, but then thought that might end up being too obvious. She found herself in the kitchen, and to her delight she noticed a huge wooden door set into the wall that had to be a cupboard. Opening it, she saw what looked to be a pantry- shelves and shelves with only a couple of tins left by other guests at the house. It was good, but Brooke didn’t think it was a particularly great place to hide until she spotted another door at the very end of the pantry- slightly smaller with a little circular handle. As Brooke turned it, she was confronted with a tiny dark room, with only the blinking lights of the boiler that sat inside to illuminate it.

Perfect.

As Brooke hopped in, she could hear the blood roaring in her ears and her heart thumping. She wanted to giggle. This was exactly how it had felt to play hide and seek when she was little, and she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old still feeling the same way. Hell, she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old playing hide and seek. Gradually, she began to hear the sound of footsteps thundering above her, the old ceiling creaking and letting Brooke know the girls were on their way. Then, it all went silent for a while. Brooke breathed out heavily. Just then, she heard the door to the pantry open and one set of footsteps shuffle through it. They dashed to the end of the room and then seemed to be satisfied that there was nothing more to investigate- until Brooke heard them do what seemed to be a double-take. Keeping her breathing silent, Brooke stood frozen to the spot as she saw the door gradually open with a long, murder-mystery style creaaak…

Shit.

Vanessa stood at the doorframe to the cupboard, a shit-eating grin on her face. “I’ve been tellin’ Yvie I’m the best at hide and seek, but she ain’t believe me. What’d that take me, two minutes?”

“Yeah, good job, Poirot,” Brooke smirked, although it was hiding a multitude of nerves. Her and Vanessa, stuck in a tight, dark space together until the other girls found them. This was fine. This would be fine. “Right come on then, girl, you need to get in.”

“Fuck no, I ain’t goin’ in there! That’s a straight-up spiders’ nest, fuck that.”

“Just get in!” Brooke grabbed her gently but firmly by the wrist and dragged her inside, closing the door behind them. It was entirely dark except for the small strip of light where the door met the doorframe, which illuminated Vanessa’s hair and collarbones. There was a small beat of silence in which Brooke’s eyes adjusted to the darkness again, and when her vision had settled she could see Vanessa smiling at her cheekily. “What?”

“There’s a spider in your hair.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “No there’s not.”

“There is! A big one. It’s some Harry Potter type shit, I swear.”

“Shut up, Vanessa, I’m not falling for that shit,” Brooke snorted a laugh, squashing the unease that began to creep up on her.

“It’s got, like, a billion eyes.”

“Has it.”

“An’ forty legs,” Vanessa bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck kind of biology classes did you go to? A spider with forty leg- JESUS!” Brooke all at once cut herself off, feeling a movement at her shoulder, her hair flicking against her neck slightly. She gave herself such a jolt that it felt like whiplash, and she watched as Vanessa laughed at her brushing wildly against her shoulder. Brooke was confused when her hand connected with another hand. Vanessa’s hand. How the hell she’d managed to reach up there without Brooke’s notice was anyone’s guess, but she’d certainly done what she’d set out to do. Brooke launched herself forward and squeezed a hand at Vanessa’s waist, laughing as the other girl screeched in response. The two girls descended into giggles, Brooke having to fend off Vanessa’s playful swipes as she berated her.

“Shut up, bitch! You’re going to get us caught!” Brooke laughed, grabbing one of Vanessa’s wrists in each hand. Suddenly, both girls paused, the compromising position they were in dawning on both of them. The memory of when she used to pin Vanessa to the bed with both her wrists and kiss her neck shot through Brooke’s mind like a hot iron, unwanted and welcome all at once. In the darkness, she could see Vanessa’s single raised eyebrow.

“You telling me you don’t wanna get caught?” she murmured, her voice low and making the atmosphere charged and thick with something that hadn’t been there before. Brooke squeezed her thighs together. This couldn’t turn into something else. She couldn’t let it.

“Well, that is the whole point of the game,” Brooke said, trying to inject as much level-headedness into her tone as she was able. To her dismay she watched as Vanessa’s eyes took on a dark twinkle.

“Oh, right, uh-huh. The game. Sure,” she smirked, Brooke only able to laugh in response because that way she wasn’t saying anything. This situation was fucked. It was so weird. Vanessa was flirting with her, unprompted. So what did this mean? That she still liked Brooke? That she wanted to be friends and was just playing? What did this mean for her and Monique? They couldn’t be that serious, then, if Vanessa was doing all this? Or maybe they’d fallen out and Vanessa wanted her to be jealous? But what was the point of making somebody jealous who wasn’t here? What if her and Monique were together and Vanessa was cheating? What if-

“AYYYYYY FUCKIN’ HOES! Yes! I’m shit-hot at this game, Jesus!” Silky threw the door open, screeching her head off and sending every thought that Brooke was overthinking into the stratosphere.

“Stop yellin’ bitch, and get in!” Vanessa laughed. As Silky squeezed into the ever-decreasing-in-space cupboard, Brooke felt her throat almost close up as Vanessa shuffled up against her to make more room, tilting her head up, locking eyes with Brooke and sending her a look that she couldn’t decipher before looking away and whispering to Silky.

They were eventually found by the other girls- namely because there was no space at all once Scarlet arrived so Plastique found half of the girls with one toe in the cupboard and the rest of their bodies outside of it. The game carried on, but Brooke’s head wasn’t properly in it. She would deliberately put in the bare minimum effort when she was looking for the girls because, really, she wouldn’t know what to do if she was stuck in another confined space with Vanessa. Why had it turned so weird before? All flirty and edged with something she couldn’t work out. It wasn’t right- Vanessa was meant to be mad at her, meant to hate her and never want to speak to her again and somehow they’d gone from civil, to nearly-friends, to eye-fucking each other in a boiler cupboard in the space of a month?

The encounter was still playing on Brooke’s mind as she got ready for dinner. The girls had all decided that they would “do a Love Island” (in the words of Akeria) and all get glammed up to sit in the living room and play games after they’d eaten. It felt funny to be putting on a dress, heels and fake lashes without the possibility of going out anywhere, but the methodical process of putting on her makeup was a welcome distraction from the swirling thoughts in Brooke’s head.

“Ayo,” came an unexpected voice, causing Brooke to flinch a little and drop the lipgloss she’d been applying moments before. Looking behind her in the mirror she saw it was just Yvie and Nina. Usually she’d have been happy to see them, but right now she was doing too much overthinking and couldn’t let on what had happened earlier between her and Vanessa. So Brooke just stuck on her best fake smile as she turned around to face them.

“Hey! You guys look so good,” she complimented them, Nina smiling and Yvie giving a little snort.

“Well I didn’t want to be accused of not making an effort for your birthday again,” she poked her tongue out at Brooke and tugged a little at the beads on the hem of her short gold dress.

“If you trip in those heels I hope you know that’s, like, instant paralysis,” Brooke commented, looking at the spikes of Yvie’s six inch stilettos. When the girl did glam, she did glam, Brooke had to give it to her.

“As if Yvie needs to be any taller than she already is,” Nina laughed playfully.

“Awh, she needs to be tall so she can look down on her smol bean uwu girlfriend,” Brooke teased, Nina continuing to giggle and Yvie giving an amused roll of her eyes.

“What’s up with you anyway, bitch? You’ve been, like, extra bitter around all the couples today. It’s supposed to be your birthday, cheer the fuck up,” Yvie gave her a little nudge with her foot. Brooke frowned. She didn’t think she had been being bitter, but maybe Yvie was right. Fuck, what had she even said today? Brooke hoped that Vanessa hadn’t noticed anything.

“No, that’s not true. I’m fine! Just…” Brooke sighed, the bingo-hall-style tombola spinning rapidly in her head to generate an excuse. “…exams are soon, you know, and I’ve not started revising yet-”

“Oh my God, bitch, they’re in May! This is March! Chill the hell out,” Yvie laughed, pulling Brooke up from her position on the floor by the long mirror in the corner of her room. “Let’s go eat pizza. If Monet and Plastique have worked out how to cook them in that 1920s horror oven.”

As Yvie excitedly strutted out of the room and Brooke made to join her, Nina reached out to squeeze her hand.

“You’re a crap liar, Brooke Lynn Hytes,” she hissed quietly, Brooke rolling her eyes and making to protest when Nina spoke again. “But I won’t push it. I just wish you’d open the fuck up more.”

Brooke felt guilty. “I just don’t…it’s something I don’t want to overthink, Nina. So the best way you can help is helping me stuff myself full of carbs then pouring a 24 pack of San Miguel down my throat.”

Nina nodded understandingly as they reached the top of the stairs, Brooke holding back a snort as she watched Yvie cling to the bannister for dear life as she descended. Nina gave her hand another squeeze, then dropped it. “I can do that. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Brooke shyly looked down at her short, black one-shoulder dress and smoothed it down. “Thanks, babe.”

Nina’s smile suddenly turned scheming. “And so does Vanessa.”

Before Brooke could protest, Nina was bounding down the stairs in her bright white Filas that she’d paired with her blue and white checked dress. It wasn’t as formal as Brooke’s or Yvie’s, but that was the beauty of having a glam night in a big house where it was just them- nobody could judge you for being over or underdressed.

As Brooke followed her flatmates into the kitchen, she was met with the sight of her friends all happy, chatting, and in their best outfits. Annoyed at herself, she found her eyes darting around to find Vanessa. She wanted to know why Nina had said what she’d said, wanted to know if she was just winding her up.

And then her eyes came to rest on the most gorgeous version of Vanessa she’d ever seen, and her anxiety dipped, did a loop, then spiked. They were both in black- some dumb coincidence that the earth had sent her way, no doubt- but Vanessa’s was shiny, a vinyl dress that clung to her as if it was made of latex and painfully highlighted every curve of her body. She’d paired it with red heels, which had straps that snaked their way up her calves and showcased her perfect skin. Her dark hair had been blow-dried out (probably by Akeria, Brooke guessed) and fell in perfect waves down her back and over her shoulders (had she fucking highlighted her collarbones?). Her makeup was, as usual, perfect, a dark shock of eyeshadow and an indecent red on her lips causing Brooke’s heart to race. The worst part, though, about the whole outfit, was the silver zip that ran from the top of the dress to the bottom, right in the middle at the front, and either Vanessa (or someone mucking about with her…probably Silky) had unzipped it just the tiniest amount. For about the hundredth time that month, Brooke cursed herself for breaking things off with Vanessa. It wasn’t just about her looks though, or her body, or how much she missed the sex. Their interaction in the cupboard made Brooke remember how funny Vanessa was, how much of an endearing goofball, how she was just a cheerful person whose only real wish in life was to be properly happy. And Brooke had hurt her, made her the exact opposite of that. Vanessa loved everything and everyone so deeply, was the most open of books, and was so unafraid of feeling. Meanwhile there was Brooke not even able to tell her own flatmates, the two girls that knew her best in the world, about her own feelings.

As she watched Vanessa’s eyes drift from Scarlet and Monet, who she’d been talking to, across the room to rest on her, Brooke felt her heart stop. Not giving a single thing away, Vanessa smiled, gave a little wave, and crossed the room to where Brooke stood.

“Hey!” she began, so confident and self-assured and making Brooke feel more like a trashbag than she already did. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks!” Brooke smiled, uncharacteristically flustered at the tiny compliment. “You look so beaud!”

Fuck. Brooke kicked herself for getting tongue tied, badly hoping Vanessa wouldn’t have noticed. As she watched a confused smile appear on her face, Brooke realised she’d have to explain herself. “I was going to say beautiful, then I changed it to good and they just sort of…mushed together.”

Brooke felt her face grow hot as Vanessa simply raised an eyebrow in a smirk. “I’ll take both. Beautiful and good.”

Just as Brooke was about to defend herself, Silky announced to the girls in her own Silky-esque way that the pizzas were ready, and, giving a cry of delight, Vanessa had dashed across the room and left Brooke forgotten about.

As they all ate, Brooke fought an internal battle. She had absolutely no right to feel sorry for herself, this mess was entirely of her own making. Besides, she had to put everything out of her head now; she had made her decision, Vanessa had moved on, and she had to let the whole thing drop. But despite all this, it didn’t stop her brain constantly pestering her with what-ifs.

It was still pestering her once they’d all finished their dinner and moved upstairs into the huge living room for drinks and games, so she was glad when Nina popped herself down beside her with two ice cold bottles of beer from the fridge.

“One for each hand,” she explained. Brooke burst out laughing. She fucking loved Nina so much.

“Where’s yours?”

“Monet’s making mojitos for me and her. I love having a girlfriend, it’s like a sexy butler that you get to have sex with and cuddle any time you want,” Nina mused wistfully, giving Brooke her second belly-laugh in the space of two minutes. As she composed herself, Monet came into the room with two huge tall glasses overflowing with crushed ice and garnished with lime and mint.

“Where the fuck did you get mint and limes?” Brooke asked, screwing her face up in confusion then scrambling to pull a slightly more attractive one as Vanessa came in flanked by Silky and Akeria.

“I brought them, bitch! Anyway what did I miss?”

“Nina called you a sexy butler,” Brooke said casually, sipping one of her two beers and smiling as she watched Nina grow flustered.

“Jesus Christ, I’m getting all the compliments today! First I was a Tesco Finest girlfriend, now I’m a sexy butler. You know how to treat a lady, Neens,” Monet teased, pulling her girlfriend in and smothering her with kisses on the cheek.

“Ugh, get that couple shit outta here,” Vanessa yelled from the other sofa, throwing a leftover crisp at them. Monet instantly snapped back.

“Uh, like you can talk, Vanj.”

“What the shit hell is that meant to mean?” Vanessa laughed, amused.

Akeria grew outraged as she turned around to face Vanessa, her long, straight hair swinging wildly as she flipped it over her shoulder. “NEED we remind you what you sent to the group chat last week?!”

Silky began yelling, mirroring the cries of woe and dismay that were circling through Brooke’s brain at being reminded that Monique was still very much in the picture. “NO we do NOT need reminded! I can’t go through that again, dear Jesus God…”

“Fuck babygirl, I need that mouth on me-” Akeria began reading dramatically from her screen, the girls cringing and laughing and every word feeling like a kick to Brooke’s gut as Vanessa, face bright red, wrestled with Akeria to get the phone out of her hands. “-I’m touching myself but you know it’s not the same- aw, V! Give it back!”

“I’m gonna eat this fuckin’ phone, Akeria Chanel Davenport, I swear,” Vanessa chided her furiously, holding the phone out of her reach then relenting, giving it back to her. Silky fanned herself dramatically, making the others laugh. As Brooke did her best fake laugh and joined in, she tried not to make eye contact with Vanessa’s embarrassed face.

“Aw, are we talking about the unfortunate dirty text incident?” Plastique’s voice came from the hall, everyone laughing again as she sat down in the armchair beside the fire. “Seriously, V, you should be a songwriter. I swear that whole thing could’ve been from a Kamille song or some shit-”

“Well, all sexts are a little bit cringey, aren’t they?” Nina offered kindly, attempting to cheer Vanjie up. In doing this, she only succeeded in earning herself an exasperated cry from Monet.

“V, do you wanna go out? I can’t stand this bitch any more, she just keeps insulting me.”

As everyone howled with laughter and Nina frantically smothered her girlfriend in kisses trying to get her back onside, Brooke sneaked a look at Vanessa. She was laughing, but her face was still a little red. Christ, she looked so cute. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Speaking of sex, I’m assuming Yvie and Scarlet went off to bang?” Plastique shrugged, everyone finally realising who was missing.

“Oh, fuck this! Save that shit for later!” Silky protested, Akeria laughing and whacking her.

“Hey, let them be happy! It’s my birthday so I’m sayin’ if they want to fuck, let ‘em. In the meantime I have an empty wine bottle and a room full of girls with secrets that need spilled,” Akeria announced. Plastique clapped excitedly, Silky cheered and Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“For Christ’s sake, Kiki, do we not already know all there is to know about each other?” she complained. Interesting. So Vanessa didn’t want to play truth or dare, a game she was usually always down for.

“Excuse the fuck outta me, we played that stupid tuna game earlier!”

“Sardines,” Brooke deadpanned, earning herself a laugh from the room.

“It was some type of fish, I got that much right.”

“How are you through a whole bottle of wine already?” Silky asked, impressed.

“Can I live? It’s my birthday! Now will you hoes stop pissing in my cereal and let’s play!” Akeria implored, setting the wine bottle down against the red carpet and spinning it so violently Brooke worried that it would smash on the marble grate. It slowed, turning round and round and finally resting right back at where Akeria leant down from the sofa. She let out a giggle. “Oops. Guess it’s me.”

“Keeks, truth or dare!” Plastique asked excitedly. Akeria tilted her head, deep in thought.

“Hmm. I ain’t drunk enough for dares yet, so let’s go truth.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone racked their brains to think of something. Monet was first with an idea.

“Fuck, marry, kill: Silk, Vanj or…uh…”

“Asia,” Vanessa said simply, sipping some coke and spirit concoction through a straw as Silky let out a screech. Brooke was confused. She met her eyes with Nina’s, who looked equally baffled.

“Wait, who’s Asia?” Nina asked. Akeria, to her credit, looked composed. To be fair, Brooke had hardly ever seen her look anything but.

“She’s a friend from my course. We did a paired project together an’ she came over to the flat to work on it the other week,” Vanessa shrugged. “Her an’ Kiki seemed to hit it off.”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ crush on the girl, Jesus. Don’t make it weird,” Akeria rolled her eyes, blinking slowly. If Brooke squinted she might’ve spotted a flush to Akeria’s face, but perhaps that came from the glow of the fire.

Monet muttered under her breath to Brooke and Nina as the three flatmates bickered away. “Is Akeria gay?”

Brooke blew out a bunch of air. “Fuck, I don’t even know who’s what anymore.”

“She’s never classed herself as straight,” Nina elaborated cautiously. “She talks about getting dicked down by guys a lot. Then again, it’s really only Silky that does that and Keeks just joins in.”

“Silk and Vanj know something we don’t,” Brooke reasoned, watching as the two girls laughed and Akeria sat, poised and smirking at them indulgently as if they were kids.

“Right, enough! ‘Keria, fuck marry kill: Vanjie, Silk or Asia, then,” Monet shrugged, sipping her mojito.

Akeria flipped some hair over her shoulder and tilted her head to the sky thoughtfully. “I honestly can’t decide who I’d rather kill, Silk or Vanj.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna fuck or marry Asia, correct?” Vanessa quipped, a little fire igniting in Brooke’s heart as she watched a wicked smile spread across her scheming face.

“No, I don’t know her well enough to have any strong feelings towards her either way. You and Silk, however…” Akeria raised her eyebrows long-sufferingly, coaxing a laugh out of the other girls. “Uhh, right, marry Asia, or whatever. Kill Silky.”

“Bitch! I’ll kill you for real,” Silky objected, pummeling Akeria’s arm with a cushion.

“Fuck Vanj because she likes girls anyway and if she’s going down on me it means she’s not talking with that fuckin’ gritter-truck voice of hers,” Akeria shrugged as she concluded, the room cheering and Vanessa doing a little celebratory bow. As she flipped her head up she caught Brooke’s eye, giving her a little wink. Brooke crossed her legs and tried not to think about Vanessa going down on anyone. Least of all her.

“Aight!” Akeria said, indicating to everyone that her turn was well and truly over. “We move.”

The bottle was spun once more, Brooke taking a long drink out of her bottle and draining it. She needed to be tipsier than this. Everyone else seemed a little more drunk than she was, apart from Vanessa who she noted was sipping her drink sparingly. Brooke shook her head a little, trying to stop bringing her focus to Vanessa every five minutes. She’d taken her heels off and tucked her legs up underneath her on the sofa, and her thighs looked good for it.

“Plastique, truth or dare!”

Plastique tucked her hair behind her ears. “Uhh, dare.”

Brooke knew what to do for this one. Plastique had taken Ariel on a couple of dates, but the girls were emotionally stunted and neither of them had properly articulated their feelings to the other yet. “Call Ariel and tell her how you feel about her. Properly.”

As the other girls “oooh"ed in appreciation, Plastique fixed Brooke with an unimpressed glare. "I’m not doing that.”

“Pussy,” Brooke shrugged, sipping her other beer. Vanessa let out a laugh from the other side of the room.

“Brooke Lynn’s telling someone else they’re a pussy for not being open about their feelings? Are we in the correct universe?"

As the other girls gave a laugh that was only the slightest bit uncomfortable, Brooke rolled her eyes. "Okay, well at the very least send her a heartfelt text.”

“Why are you pushing this so much, ma?” Plastique pouted as she relented and reached for her phone.

“Because I’m bored of sitting in lectures hearing you moan about how you can’t tell her how you feel because it would make it weird or how you don’t want to come across too intense!"

"We all had to listen to you pine after Vanjie for two and a half years but we never forced you into admitting anything,” Plastique shrugged, the room erupting into shrieks. Brooke gave a choke of a laugh, wanting the ground to open up and swallow her. She knew her face was bright red without having to look in a mirror and, as much as her brain was imploring her not to, she found her eyes darting quickly to Vanessa to catch a glimpse of her face.

Calm, smiling tight-lipped and smug. As if she’d won something.

“No, but you did start a sweepstake about us so get off the high horse, thanks!” Brooke sing-songed back, the slight hint of irritation to her voice letting Plastique know she was to drop it. Us. The word felt weird in Brooke’s mouth, it hadn’t been used in so long. Two and a half years. Had she really liked Vanessa for that long before everything had happened between them? Brooke had actually thrown away two and a half years of feelings for the sake of one feeling of indecision, a feeling that maybe they shouldn’t have been a they any more?

For Christ’s sake don’t look at Vanessa.

“Fine. I’ve put tonight’s really fun but I miss you, I always miss you when you’re not with me, hope you know how much I care about you. That heartfelt enough for you bitches?” Plastique muttered, embarrassed. Nina let out an “aaw”, Akeria made a sick noise.

“Acceptable,” Brooke shrugged, sipping on her beer again. Suddenly, a cheer went up from Akeria, Vanessa and Silky who could see who was coming through the living room door first. Yvie and Scarlet were walking close, holding a glass of red wine each and wearing matching poker faces.

“Oh, here they are! Nice of you to finally join us!” Nina cheered, Scarlet giving a small smile and smoothing her dress down, sitting beside Yvie on the last remaining couch.

“All the best people are fashionably late!” she shrugged. Yvie gave a snort and swept some hair over her shoulder to cover her neck. Brooke saw the action and jumped on it.

“Nice neckwear.”

Yvie turned only slightly red. “Thanks. Gucci.”

“Hear that? Yvie’s girlfriend is Gucci. Not Tesco Finest. Gucci,” Monet nudged Nina, setting another laugh off amongst the girls.

“We’re playing truth or dare,” Brooke explained to the two girls, as Plastique gave the glass bottle a bit of a pathetic spin.

“Vanjie!”

Vanessa shook her head. “Nah that spin was shit, it don’t count.”

“Like hell it don’t! Truth or dare, bitch?” Silky all but interrogated her. Vanessa thought about it for a moment, then decided.

“Truth.”

Brooke’ heart hammered in her chest. She hoped to God they wouldn’t ask Vanessa anything about her, anything about them.

“What’s going on with you and Monique, Vanjie?” Monet asked dramatically, Akeria giving a cry of delight and thumping her hands against her thighs.

Great.

As the room broke out into eager laughter, Vanessa just smiled.

“Well, Monique and I are good friends, and…we get on well. We both been, y'know, unlucky in love a lil’, so…” Vanessa trailed off, the room giving little chokes of anticipation and Brooke’s stomach twisting. “…if it’s one in the morning and one of us is maybe still up…y'know…”

Monet gave a tiny squeal through her teeth. Brooke wanted to wedge herself in between the sofa cushions and not emerge again til May of next year.

“Y'know, Monique’s very confident, very sure of herself, an’ that's…y'know, it’s attractive…” Vanessa trailed off, running her tongue over her teeth. Brooke knew that face, remembered the time when that face used to get directed at her before they’d fall into bed together, frantic kisses planted along collarbones and clothes discarded over the uneven floorboards of Vanessa’s room.

“But what’s actually going on? You’ve said so much but not actually said anything,” Yvie let out an unimpressed laugh. Vanessa composed herself and sat up straight, taking a rare sip of her drink.

“Well, we get on well. She’s a good person. And we’re friends,” Vanessa smiled coyly, causing the girls to laugh uproariously.

“Okay, okay, we all see it! We all get it!” Monet laughed, the knife twisting in Brooke’s stomach. Could it have been more obvious that they were obviously having each other in every type of position imaginable with any chance they got, or was it just Brooke being paranoid? She thought back to what Monet had said in the car earlier and concluded that, occasional hits of the bong aside, she was not being paranoid by any stretch of the imagination.

The game rolled along. Nina was made to do something vague and embarrassing with Monet that Brooke forgot quickly (or perhaps blocked out), Scarlet was forced to admit (rather proudly, Brooke thought) that her and Yvie had quickly fucked upstairs in the time they’d been away, and a few other of the girls did a couple of bland truths. As much as the bottle spun and spun, it never seemed to point Brooke’s way. Brooke was glad. She didn’t want to admit or say anything, and she also didn’t want to do anything remotely risky. However, when the bottle landed on Vanessa a second time, Brooke began to reconsider her thought process.

“Dare,” Vanessa smiled, a glint of danger in her eye flashing quickly as she darted her eyes quickly to Brooke.

Brooke tried not to look at Nina as she spoke. “Vanjie. Kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Plastique whispered quietly. It seemed as if the whole room held its breath. Brooke didn’t know if she was grateful to Nina for the setup or whether she wanted to descend into the earth’s core. She knew Vanessa had answered this question before with this group of girls, she knew that Vanessa thought the answer was her. But that was before everything had changed. Brooke felt her pulse race as Vanessa looked to the ceiling, deep in thought.

Slowly, she turned her gaze to Yvie and Scarlet.

“Yvie,” she began, a small sinking feeling lodging itself in Brooke’s chest. “Can I kiss your girlfriend?”

Yvie smiled at Scarlet proudly, happy for the compliment. “Dare’s a dare. Bring her back.”

“Scarlet, can I get a lil’ smooch?” Vanessa laughed, Scarlet laughing back and motioning for her to sit beside them on the sofa.

“C'mere, friend,” she laughed easily, Vanessa crossing the room and joining them. Brooke remembered when Vanessa had kissed Scarlet before- in the nightclub, before they were together and before Yvie and Scarlet were together. She remembered how it made her feel- a little irritated and sad all in one. Looking back, she realised it was plain and simple jealousy, and she knew her feelings weren’t going to change this time.

Quickly, Vanessa leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her gently but slowly, her hand resting on Scarlet’s hip easily. It could only have been about three seconds long, but each one seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly, and Brooke hoped she wasn’t showing any of her fucked-up emotions on her face. As the two girls pulled away and the others whooped and whistled, Scarlet made a face.

“Bitch, all I tasted there was pepperoni. That was the least sexy kiss I’ve ever had.”

“You loved it, hoe!” Vanessa laughed, retreating back to her seat. Desperate to look at anything but Vanessa’s face, Brooke watched Yvie and Scarlet. Yvie had the satisfied grin of a mafia mob boss as Scarlet whispered something in her ear, then smiled seductively, kissing her once, twice, three times, red lipstick meeting purple.

“Well if I wasn’t bi before, I sure as hell am now,” Plastique fanned herself.

“We are the cornerstone of Plastique’s sexual identity. That’s a fucking compliment!” Scarlet cheered, Yvie laughing and wrapping her arms around her.

“Nah, you and Yvie are my parents. The Mums of the group,” Plastique explained.

“Fuck off, we’re not the Mums!” Yvie laughed, outraged. “Nina and Monet are literally right there!”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Nina cried, outraged at the perceived injustice.

“Yeah, don’t lump me in with this dork!” Monet yelled, laughing with the other girls as Nina swatted her on the arm.

“Right! Spin, Vanj,” Yvie ordered, the girl spinning the bottle round obediently. Brooke watched as the top of the bottle whizzed by her once, twice, three times, past Yvie, Scarlet, the Antigua Road girls, slowed down as it reached Plastique, edged past Monet and Nina and then came to rest on Brooke.

“All RIGHT! About time this bitch spilt some tea,” Silky clapped in delight.

“Brooke,” Akeria said with the threat level of an MI5 employee. “Truth or dare?”

Brooke paused. Her go-to was usually a truth, however there was no way she was going for that this time, not while she was still a concrete mixer of feelings for Vanessa and not while there was a room full of people wanting to know exactly what was going on with them. She shrugged. “Dare.”

“Okay-” Akeria tailed off, making to stop and think. A practically evil smile spread across her face as realisation dawned on her. “Same dare. Kiss the hottest person in the room. Ten seconds.”

Silky let out a scream, growing so excitable on the sofa that Vanessa was almost sent through the ceiling. Scarlet whispered something to Yvie on the sofa, both of the girls looking at Brooke intently. Plastique shouted over something to Akeria that Brooke couldn’t hear. All she could focus on was how Vanessa had grabbed Silky and was laughing, but somewhat nervously. Her face had gone bright red. Brooke bit her lip. She thought back to their flirting in the cupboard earlier, how they were almost back to square one again, the weird bid Vanessa had made to make Brooke jealous. She could always kiss Yvie or Nina, take the easy way out. But the more she looked at Vanessa, the more drawn she became to her until before she knew what she was doing, Brooke had stood up from her place on the carpet and taken one, two, three steps to sit on the couch and look Vanessa in the eyes.

Brooke could hear everyone in the room screaming, and she knew Silky had run out of the room shouting incoherently, but all she seemed to hear was her blood roaring in her ears as Vanessa leaned in. Before she knew it, Brooke’s hand was resting on Vanessa’s bare thigh and they were kissing each other, slow and deep and lazy and in a way that Brooke never wanted to end. She felt Vanessa’s tongue licking at hers gently and immediately felt a throb of heat between her legs as she remembered 3ams spent between her sheets and Vanessa’s head buried between her thighs.

Christ, this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea-

“ZERO! And y’all can officially cut that shit out,” Brooke suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Vanessa, Akeria’s voice cutting through her hazy thoughts and bringing her back down to earth with a bump.

“Well, I feel like on that note,” Monet clapped her hands together decisively. “I’m away out to drink in the hot tub. Anyone else?”

One by one the girls agreed, dashing out of the room excitedly, and it was obvious to Brooke that everyone would be talking about what had just happened. Vanessa had run off quickly, her hand in Silky’s as the two dashed upstairs to get their swimwear on. The only girl that was left in the room as Brooke made to do the same was Akeria. She frowned at Brooke as they both left the room, a warning in her eyes which sent a chill down Brooke’s spine. Trying to ignore it, Brooke dashed upstairs, changed into her pink bikini and then ran outside to join the others. They wouldn’t talk about her and Vanessa’s kiss if she was there, so the less time she was away the better. Brooke grabbed a third beer from the fridge on her way out to the garden, and as she stepped outside she noticed how the moon already hung huge and bright in the sky, how the grass already had a shine of cold wet on it, and how everything looked almost a little bit magic. Joining the others and sitting between Yvie and Plastique, she tried to ignore Vanessa sitting opposite her in a black bikini that looked equally sinful as the outfit she’d been wearing before. Luckily the rest of the girls had no further desire to play drinking games, and talk instead turned to movies. Brooke didn’t join in. She couldn’t- too much was swirling around her mind, namely how good the kiss had felt. Scarlet had probably lied to make Yvie laugh- Vanessa had tasted like sugary coke, and the all too familiar scent of her perfume was still inexplicably clinging to Brooke. It had been weird to kiss after months of no contact at all. It had been a bad decision. Brooke had done yet another wrong thing.

So why did it feel somehow correct?

“Right!” Akeria said after a while, almost toppling over as she stood up. “I think I’m gettin’ a touch of the hypothermias. Who’s comin’ inside to watch Sister Act?”

“Bitch! That’s like, my favourite movie. Hell yes,” Monet sprang up, knocking Nina off her lap and into the middle of the hot tub. The girls erupted in a laugh, Brooke almost dropping her beer into the water. One by one, they all filed out of the water. Brooke was the last one left. Admittedly she didn’t want to leave- she was now tipsy enough to not feel the cold, and she could have lain back and stared at the white light of the full moon in the inky sky forever. Just as she was about to follow the others, she noticed that the second-to-last girl out of the hot tub was Vanessa. Brooke swallowed thickly, trying her best not to stare at how the small droplets of water clung to her thick thighs or how her tiny bikini barely covered her firm ass, or how her slick, wet hair cascaded down her back. Almost as if she could read Brooke’s mind, Vanessa slowly, tortuously turned around. She had a little wicked smile on her face, the kind she always used to wear when she flirted with Brooke. It made Brooke cross her legs and squeeze her thighs together.

“You got a good enough view from there?” she asked, playfulness coating her words as she spread both her arms out to lean against the back of the hot tub.

This was bad. This was not good. Brooke couldn’t flirt back. It would only lead to another really horrendous, catastrophic decision. Her mind was hot-wiring, and to her dismay she couldn’t come up with any form of quick-witted comeback. Noticing how long it was taking her to reply, Vanessa gave a throaty laugh.

“Hmm. I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she purred, crossing the water and sitting down close next to Brooke. Brooke tried her best not to choke as she took a sip from the bottle in her hand.

“Thought you were going to watch Sister Act?” she asked, trying to sound casual but cringing at how nervous she sounded as the words left her mouth. Her blood pressure dialled up a notch as Vanessa laced her fingers together, placed her hands on Brooke’s bare shoulder, then rested her head against her fingers.

“I don’t know. Think I’d rather see what’s so special about this view you love so much,” Vanessa murmured softly, Brooke not missing the way she rushed out the word ‘love’ as if to distil any awkwardness. She didn’t need to worry, though, because right now all Brooke could focus on was how good Vanessa looked in that black bikini, and how her red lipstick still clung to her plump lips as if it had just been applied, and her beautiful dark gaze from under her fake lashes.

“Hmm. It’s a pretty good view. Pretty beautiful,” Brooke found herself whispering, eliciting a sparkle from Vanessa’s eyes. Fuck. Shit. She shouldn’t have said that, it just seemed to have happened, but with Vanessa sitting pressed up so close to her how else could she have possibly reacted? There was a small silence in which Vanessa gave a small giggle, looking down at the constantly popping bubbles. The jet stream pummeled Brooke’s back to bits.

“What’s funny?” she smiled cautiously. Vanessa looked at her, something nostalgic on her face.

“Your pickup lines are still cringey as fuck,” she smirked, Brooke rolling her eyes a little. She had to steer this conversation back to normality. Whatever the fuck normality was as far as her and Vanessa were concerned.

“That wasn’t a pickup line. If I was trying to pick you up, you’d know about it.”

“Oh, I know about it, baby. Don’ worry,” Vanessa hit back instantly, Brooke taking the pet name like a fatal shot. Brooke knew that Vanessa knew what that word did to her in the right context with the right tone. Fuck. Bad idea, bad idea. She was determined not to lose whatever game this was. She would not do anything stupid. She would not ruin the tiny, small beginnings of this foundation of their friendship that they were gradually re-building. She would stand up and go inside and watch Whoopi fucking Goldberg dance about in a fucking habit and all would be right with the world again.

“Two and a half years, huh? You had it bad, bitch, I never knew I had that kind of effect on you,” Vanessa laughed suddenly, Brooke trying not to blush as she remembered Plastique’s words from earlier.

“Not that you’re letting it go to your head,” Brooke shrugged, taking a sip.

Vanessa giggled again. Brooke wished she wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good compliment for you, I guess.”

“Better than beaud,” Vanessa smirked, snorting a laugh as Brooke tipped her head back and cringed. As she quietly stopped laughing, Vanessa shrugged lightly. “An’ I mean, nice to know I’m the hottest girl in the room too.”

Brooke let out a small sigh at having to confront her decision. “I mean just because we’re not dating any more doesn’t mean it’s not objectively true. By Western beauty standards you probably are the hottest girl in the room.”

Vanessa laughed again. “Western beauty standards, my God. I’m not even white, you dumb bitch.”

“Yeah, but…you’ve got this gorgeous skin, and all your shiny hair. And your eyes that go all twinkly when you’re happy,” Brooke explained. Where was all this coming from? “And you have perfect white teeth, and the best smile. I feel like you light up the whole room when you laugh.”

Brooke’s heart gave a twinge as Vanessa’s face broke out into a smile, tilting her face to the side a little inquisitively. Brooke gave a little cough, aware of all the compliments she’d given her. “And you have a really good figure as well, so, yeah.”

“Oh, obviously. Well, we all know how much you like that,” Vanessa smirked cheekily, Brooke suddenly snapping her neck round to face her properly.

“What?”

“Liked that. Like, liked. Whatever. We’re friends now, we can laugh about it,” Vanessa shrugged, the words coming out of her mouth confirming their status at once relieving Brooke and putting her on edge. They were back to being friends. This was what Brooke wanted, right? Vanessa still had the little cheeky grin on her face as she spoke again. “Friends who still kiss each other, apparently.”

“Well, you kissed Scarlet,” Brooke said, trying to make it as nonchalant as possible. Judging by Vanessa’s smug reaction, she hadn’t succeeded.

“You seem pressed.”

“Not pressed! Just saying,” Brooke tried to protest gently but felt she came on way too heavy.

“Mhm. There’s just one problem about all this, though…” Vanessa murmured, her tone charged with something that immediately made the hairs on Brooke’s arm stand on end, giving her goosebumps.

And then, with one fluid movement, Vanessa moved to straddle her.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Brooke’s heart almost flatlined as Vanessa spoke, her face still wearing the tiniest cocky smile that Brooke so badly wanted to kiss off of her. “It’s kinda hard to try an’ be friends with you when I know what you look like with no clothes on.”

Brooke tried her best to keep her voice level. “Well, it’s also kind of hard to try and be friends with you when you’re flirting with me.”

“It’s also hard to be friends with you when I know what your kinks are…” Vanessa brought her arms around Brooke’s neck and barely concealed a smile as she bucked her hips ever so slightly. “…Mami.”

Brooke felt the tiniest hiss escape her lips, glad it wasn’t the fuck that had immediately popped into her head.

“It’s kind of hard to be friends with you when you’re riding my thigh…or when you’re coming on to me like this,” Brooke replied, keeping one hand firmly on the side of the hot tub and the other wrapped around the glass bottle in her hand so tight she thought it would smash.

“Coming on to you?” Vanessa suddenly tipped her head back and laughed, Brooke immediately realising what she’d said. “That can be arranged, you want face, tongue or fingers?”

“Fuck’s sake, Vanessa,” Brooke laughed softly, letting one of her hands drop down under the water and rest against Vanessa’s thigh. As Brooke’s thumb rubbed at her skin softly, she tried to reason with herself. Just because she was stroking Vanessa’s skin, and had her on top of her, and was basically talking dirty to her, didn’t mean that anything was actually going to happen.

“I know you miss me, Brooke,” Vanessa said, her tone matter-of-fact as she straightened up a little in Brooke’s lap, Brooke eyeing the way her breasts were pushed up.

Brooke had to think carefully about her response. She knew she’d hurt Vanessa, so she had to keep things light. “I mean, it kind of looks like you miss me, baby.”

Oh fuck, that pet name was a mistake. Vanessa’s smile was sultry as she pushed one of her hands into Brooke’s hair. “Me? Nah, I’m just doin’ this because it’s fun. Monique’s treatin’ me very well.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Vanessa knew how to hit Brooke where it hurt. Brooke pursed her lips. She wanted to fight dirty, she would give as good as she got. “And that’s why you’re cheating on her?”

Vanessa burst out laughing. “Oh, bitch, please! Me and her aren’t exclusive! We ain’t even a thing! She vents to me about her ex, I vent to her about you, and then we fuck away our frustrations!”

A part of Brooke’s heart soared up into the black sky like a helium balloon. She didn’t think she’d shown her relief on her face until Vanessa gave a laugh. “So. You ain’t denied it.”

“Denied what?”

“That you miss me,” she shrugged, giving a little look down at Brooke’s hands on her thighs. Brooke couldn’t pinpoint when she’d brought the other one down under the water but apparently she had done. Her throat was dry as she considered her response. Before she could get there, Vanessa threw her mind into chaos as she brought her hands back behind her head, fidgeted for a moment, then suddenly threw her bikini top across the decking. As Brooke’s gaze flicked down to Vanessa’s full breasts, the other girl brought one finger up and tilted her chin up to face her. The heat between Brooke’s legs was unbearable, and she felt her paper-thin resolve rapidly melting away. Vanessa smirked. “You wanna kiss me so bad right now, don’t you? Like you kissed me earlier. You can’t even stay away.“

Vanessa seemed to edge closer to Brooke, although they were already so close that seemed an impossible feat. Brooke raised an eyebrow. “See, I feel like if Monique fucked you as good as you say she does, you wouldn’t be in my lap right now.”

Vanessa blinked slowly, mockingly. “Oh, baby. You don’t want to know the things I let her do to me.”

Brooke bristled. The tension between them and Vanessa’s teasing was getting her riled. “You’re right, I don’t.”

“Aww. You jealous, baby?” Vanessa pouted. This was going to drive Brooke insane. Her mind constantly swung between this being a bad idea and a good idea, and she had no idea which it would settle on.

Brooke locked eyes with Vanessa, the other girl’s gaze a challenge. “No.”

“You sure? You seemed jealous when I kissed Scarlet earlier, I saw your face.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Brooke repeated, holding her gaze with Vanessa. Their faces weren’t too close but their bodies were, and Brooke felt as if she was a ticking time bomb.

“So you ain’t jealous of Monique?” Vanessa murmured inquisitively. Brooke shook her head, now unable to tear her gaze away from her lips which had felt so perfect against her own earlier. “You ain’t jealous of the fact she gets to ride my face and get my pretty lil’ tongue working her clit? You ain’t jealous of the fact that it’s her name I’m crying out when I cum on her fingers? You ain’t-”

Frustrated, tense, and out of willpower, Brooke let out a low growl as she finally brought her hands up to Vanessa’s jaw and crashed their lips together, kissing her wildly and deeply and running her hands over every inch of Vanessa’s skin she was able to touch. She didn’t even care that she’d proven Vanessa right, because she had missed this, missed her, missed the way they just seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle and dear sweet fucking Jesus she’d been an idiot to give up this sex. Brooke whined needily as she felt Vanessa pull away, the other girl laughing against her lips.

“You don’t kiss like a girl who ain’t jealous,” Vanessa tutted, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Or one that don’t miss me.”

Brooke ran her hands up and down her back and pouted. “Shut up.”

“Hmm. That ain’t no way to talk to me if you’re planning on getting what you want, lil’ brat,” Vanessa raised her eyebrows, bringing one of her hands down to rub at Brooke’s hipbone. Brooke let out a whimper and bucked her hips. She needed Vanessa so badly, and her words were only making things worse. Or better.

“Fuck, please, Vanessa, shit,” Brooke hissed, not caring about how pathetic and needy she looked now as she brought one of her hands up and rubbed a thumb over one of Vanessa’s nipples. Brooke felt her clit throb as Vanessa gave a little hum of delight at the contact. Her fingers had only been there for a second before Vanessa grabbed her wrist and held it down under the water, the sudden force causing Brooke’s eyes to grow wide.

“You broke my fuckin’ heart an’ now you really think I’m gonna make it that easy for you?” she barked a laugh, a guilty twinge tugging at Brooke’s rapid heart. “Fuck that. I want to hear you beg me to fuck you. You’re gonna have to work for me, baby. Shit’s on my terms.”

“Fuck, Vanessa, I really don’t give a shit how desperate I sound,” Brooke sighed, the shock of the prospect of Vanessa changing her mind about all this lighting a fire in Brooke. “Please, please, please, please, baby, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything you want, just fucking touch me, please-”

Brooke cut herself off with her own moan as Vanessa ran a hand down her body and lightly pressed two fingers against her, rubbing gently and making Brooke want to sob.

“Good girl,” Vanessa purred, Brooke writhing underneath her and completely past the point of thinking about any of the consequences of any of this. “You miss me, don’t you?”

“Fuck, so much.”

“You been missin’ this?”

“Shit yes, so much.”

Vanessa’s eyes were dark as Brooke looked up at her. “Nobody’s gonna fuck you like me, are they?”

Brooke’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, thinking that at this point if Vanessa asked her to get married she probably would’ve booked the damn venue. “No, only you, baby, fuck.”

“Mm, such a good girl,” Vanessa smirked, Brooke’s clit giving a spasm as she thought now was really not the time to realise she had a praise kink. “I don’t know, though. You seemed pretty sure you wouldn’t miss me when you ended things.”

“I do miss you, 'Ness, I promise, I’m sorry, I’ll beg on my knees if you want me to, I don’t give a fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night…so fucking perfect, shit…"

"Mm…you would look so pretty on your knees,” Vanessa leaned in and murmured into Brooke’s ear, pressing the lightest little kiss to her neck and almost sending Brooke over the edge before anything had even happened yet.

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby, fuck, I want you to feel like you’re the most gorgeous fucking goddess in the world,” Brooke gasped as Vanessa brought her other hand down to touch herself, the sight of her working Brooke and herself into a frenzy the hottest thing she’d seen in months. Her mind short-circuited, and she struggled to know if anything she said made any sense. “Jesus Christ, Vanessa, please fuck me, I can’t take much more-"

Pride glinted in Vanessa’s eyes before she leaned in and kissed Brooke, hot and wet with her fingers still rubbing and teasing her through the material. Pulling away, she motioned to the decking around the hot tub. “Lie back then, baby.”

As Brooke almost drove her face into the decking in her haste to scramble out of the hot tub she ignored the little voice in the back of her head that told her everything about this was a bad idea, and instead focused on the one that screamed it was the best decision she’d made in months.s

84 notes · View notes

golden-ariess · 4 years

Text

°Eyes For You°

Parings: Stalker!Artist Steve

Warnings: Smut! 18+ ya know

A/n: I heard this song " I Only Have Eyes For You" and I couldn't get this idea out of my head. My writing has been not happening lately lol. I hope y'all enjoy this I tried! That's all I got lol. Enjoy!!!

Listen to the song before you read. It really sets the mood.

His Muse Masterlist

"You're beautiful."

"Every inch of you is."

"Could compare you to Claude Monet "Impression Sunrise” painting, but his work couldn’t live up to you. “Steve slid your panties down your legs. The smooth fabric causes goose bumps to form on your legs.

That and the way he looked at you now. Like you were a lost piece of art that he discovered after years of searching.

His gaze was too much, his eyes held too much intensity. You felt like you were on fire under his view. He saw everything. You were open to him, your legs spread, chest bare from anything.

You laid bare in front of him. Despite his intense gaze, you felt like you were being seen for the first time in your life.

He saw you figuratively and metaphorically. This is how he’s always wanted you. Underneath him, panting for his cock. His perfect Muse.

Your skin was blank like a canvas. Naked, completely untouched until he touched you. Marked you as his.

He wouldn’t leave one piece of your doing untouched.

"Let me see all of you. Don’t hide from me.” He grabbed your legs, hooking it around his shoulders. He brought his face near your heat and you couldn’t help but clench your eyes shut.

Steve gazed up at you. He hated the way you retreat into yourself from him and he would not allow that. He wanted you for so long. He longed for you in a way. And now you’re here. His eyes were reserved only for you.

“I want you to watch.” He reached up, pulling your arms from your face.

You opened your eyes, staring back at him. He stood up, removing his pants, pulling down his boxers along with it.

You watched as his cock bobbed up, smacking his stomach. You bit your lip at the sight in front of you. A moan you couldn’t suppress tumbled from your lips.

“See what you do to me?” He gripped his cock, stroking it slowly. He knelt back down between your legs.

“Now watch.” He spread your lips and licked a long strip up your core, taking your clit in his mouth sucking on the sensitive nub. The scratch of his beard only added to your pleasure.

“Fuck,” you cried out as he touched you more.

“That feels so good.” You whispered out in ecstasy.

“I want you to feel good.” He brought his fingers to your core, slowly working his way into your warm heat as he suckled on you.

Your legs were shaking, your body was full on twitching because of his touch. You wouldn’t last much longer if he kept this up.

Your legs clenched around his head. Alerting him, you were close to your end. Steve's fingers quickened

“You feel so tight around my fingers."

"Cum when you’re ready.” He whispered into your pussy. He began to stroke his own cock. He wanted to cum with you like a dash of paint onto a canvas. Tactical and all at once.

You closed your eyes, welcoming the wave that was about to take you under. The way Steve’s fingers pressed into you; rocking in and out.

He looked right up at you. He wanted to see you tumble apart, he wanted to watch the soft glow your skin would have after your climax.

You came hard. Your hips stuttered harder on his fingers as you chased your release further. Your legs fell apart as your orgasm came, hips jerking, legs trembling and shaking, moaning Steve’s name while his fingers rocked into you easing you through.

Steve watched your face twist and groan in ecstasy as you came. He wanted nothing more than to capture you in this moment, legs spread, face blissed out, skin sweaty, glowing from your orgasm. Spread out and spent from him.

He buried his face against your stomach. Feeling your breath even out against him.

“Steve, Steve.” You mumbled out incoherently. “Steve, Steve….” your voice was drifting in and out as he laid against your stomach. His face laying close to your heat.

“Steve… Steve.."

Steve jolted awake. His heart was hammering in his ears. A dream. It was just a dream.

His cock was painfully hard in pants. He fell asleep sketching you. Watching you dance around in your apartment last night. Nothing on but an oversized tee and panties. Caused a spark in him. He wanted to capture you on paper.

The last thing he remembered was watching you drift asleep. And with that, so did he. He came to the thought of you. To the dream he had. His girl. His perfect Muse.

He only had eyes for you.

#dark steve #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #stalker!artist steve #dark!steve x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader

303 notes · View notes

debuts · 5 years

Text

Stars Keep Watch in the Night (and So Will I)

Fandom/Pairing: Gotham/Batcat

Length: 3,100 words

Also on Ao3

Summary: After ten long years, Wayne Manor is reopened, reoccupied, and refurbished, and the entire Gotham underworld laughs and thanks their lucky stars, because the manor holds as many riches as El Dorado, and it’s owner is nothing but a playboy. But what the thieves don’t know yet is that if they want to get to Bruce Wayne, they’ll have to go through Selina Kyle first.

Because this is what Selina does - what she’s always done since she was a kid - she protects Bruce. Even when he doesn’t know it.

So Selina keeps robbers at bay and stands guard over the manor, as watchful as one of the gargoyles Bruce has on his gate, and since he’s busy dealing with crimes that are actually being committed rather than with crimes that have already been stopped, she never expects Bruce to find out about what she’s doing.

But then he does.

- Set after the Gotham finale. -

Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s favorite son, is finally back home after being gone who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what for a decade, and Wayne Manor’s become the latest prime target for thieves.

Not that this fact surprises Selina, not with the rumors that have been swirling around the city. There’s whispers of a Van Gogh above Bruce’s bed (true), a Vermeer in his walk-in closet (false), and how selling a single one of Bruce’s suit jackets could fetch you a payday worth four figures (disgustingly true). And the entire Gotham underworld laughs, because Wayne Manor holds as many riches as El Dorado, and it’s owner is nothing but a playboy.

Rumor has it that a bold thief is planning on breaking in that very night.

Not that Selina has any reason to care. She has a mixed bag of feelings when it comes to Bruce Wayne, most of them angry, some of them sad, and a few she can’t quite explain. But, if she’s being honest, all her best childhood memories are linked to breaking into Wayne Manor, and there’s something that makes her feel unsettled and almost indignant at the thought of anyone else but her breaking in.

It doesn’t make any sense for her to be this protective, Selina tells herself. Bruce is more than capable of taking care of himself. She’s not thirteen anymore and sneaking in to watch him sleep like she’s some sort of self-declared protector of him. She’s no guardian of the manor, ever watchful like one of those gargoyles Bruce has on his gate. It’s not her problem if a thief wants to hit the place.

That’s what she tells herself, and yet she ends up searching for the thief anyways.

Because this is what she does - what she’s always done since she was a kid - she protects Bruce Wayne. Even when he doesn’t know it.

She finally tracks the thief down to an alleyway behind the hardware store. It’s a guy, a little older than her and a whole lot taller, and she can see he’s holding bright red bolt cutters.

“Hi,” Selina says, as she waves her fingers and the sharp silver tips of her claws glitter dangerously in the dim light. “Got a minute? I’d love to chat.”

The guy takes in the curl of her whip and the gleam of her claws, and she sees his guard go up, as if he’s readying himself for a fight.

“Catwoman?” the guy asks suspiciously, and Selina gets an odd sense of pleasure from the fact that he knows of her. “What do you want?”

“Heard you were planning on breaking into Wayne Manor tonight,” she says.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

The question on its own seems mostly harmless, but there’s pure danger in the way the guy purposefully steps toward her as he asks, and points the sharp tip of his bolt cutters right at her ribcage.

“Actually, I do have a problem with that,” Selina answers, voice tense, eyes on the bolt cutters. “Wayne Manor is mine.”

She’s the one speaking, and yet Selina’s still a little surprised at her own words, a little shocked that they came out of her mouth so readily, like her statement was already formed and right on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be said aloud. Wayne Manor’s not hers, she reminds herself. Bruce Wayne is not hers. Not anymore.

So why does it feel like he is?

She’ll dissect that thought later. Right now the guy is moving closer, bolt cutters out like a weapon, and she knows he’s not bluffing, knows he’d like to teach the girl who dared to tell him no a lesson, so she reaches for her whip. It takes nothing more than a practiced flick of Selina’s wrist for her whip to wind it’s way around the threatening bolt cutters, yank them from out of the guy’s hand, and send them clattering down to the wet pavement.

Eyes wide, the guy stares down in surprise at his hand that now holds nothing but air, and Selina twists her whip again, moving it back and forth like the twitching tail of an angry cat, ready to strike.

“Rule Number One: No one touches Wayne Manor but me. Got it?”

The guy swallows, watching as her whip licks the air and cuts through the space between them, and then he glances down at the bolt cutters lying on the ground, as if he’s trying to calculate their distance and how he can still run her through. But then Selina snaps the whip somewhere in the air beside his right ear, and though it never touches him, he jumps.

“Okay, I got it,” the guy says, and she can see him wince at her whip when she readjusts her grip. “The place is all yours, Catwoman.”

Selina smiles.

“Nice chatting with you,” she says, and then in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it pivot, she vanishes back into the night.

And so Selina hears the rumors start amongst the criminal underworld that Wayne Manor is Catwoman’s, and Catwoman’s only. It may look like an easy target, one thief will say to another, but Catwoman’s declared the place off-limits. They’re not scared of Bruce Wayne, but they’re scared of her. And the stories say that if you even set foot on the property, she will find out, and she will not be happy.

And so Wayne Manor remains untouched by all except Selina, and since Batman is busy dealing with crimes that are actually being committed rather than with crimes that aren’t, she thinks that Bruce is none the wiser.

And then that all changes.

It’s two in the morning, but Selina’s wide awake, her pulse singing with adrenaline in the quiet of the night as she plans her heist.

Bruce has a Degas hanging above his fireplace, a Fabergé egg in the entry, and so many other works of art that are as stunning as they are expensive. But they’re not the reason why Selina’s crouching just outside of Wayne Manor’s garden walls.

No, she’s here for something priceless.

She’s here because she knows Sunday nights are the nights when Alfred makes his famous lemon cake.

It’s stupid, but she misses it. Misses the subtle taste of tart lemon mixed with the drizzle of sweet sugar icing, and the way it all melts on her tongue. She also misses sitting in the warm glow of the manor’s kitchen, next to a boy she trusts, and having him smile softly at her while she laughs.

If Selina’s being honest, she misses that part more than the actual cake, but she can only work on the food part right now.

She doubts she’ll ever see Bruce Wayne smile at her again. She doesn’t even know if she’ll ever want to smile at him again.

But the lemon cake? She can definitely swipe some of that. Slipping in and out of Wayne Manor unnoticed with a few slices of it will be nothing for someone like her.

Decision made, Selina rises, and then leaps up onto the thick stone wall in one fluid motion. Slowly, she stands and then pivots, and her footwork is as graceful as any dancer’s, but her performance is meant for darkness and rooftops, not spotlights and stages.

She calculates the distance downward and readies herself to jump, but someone beats her to it. Out of the corner of her eye, against the dark shadows, Selina sees a silhouette move. She watches - somewhat in shock - as the intruder jumps from the wall, then dashes across the drive and up to one of the dark windows.

The thief must be a rookie, Selina thinks. They hadn’t even been aware of their surroundings enough to notice her, and their footsteps weren’t nearly as soundless as they should be, their movements not as agile. A rookie who’s new in town would also explain why they were stupid enough to try to rob a place that she’s so openly declared is hers.

She raises an eyebrow, curious, as she watches the thief fumble with the window. She waits for them to fail, but instead, much to her surprise, she sees the window actually open, and the thief inelegantly but successfully climb inside.

“Unbelievable,” Selina hisses under her breath.

Though she won’t ever say it out loud, she’s come to think of herself as the unofficial guardian of Wayne Manor, and just because she can rob the place, doesn’t mean anyone else can, so it’s with some ferocity that she leaps from where she stands on the wall and tears across the pavement and toward the open window. Expertly, Selina slips inside, landing on the floor as elegantly and quietly as her alter ego’s feline namesake. The hall is dark, shrouded in shadow, and the only thing to see by is the pale moonlight coming in through the window, but it doesn’t take very long for Selina to spot the thief: he’s against the hall wall, back to her, trying to remove a Monet from where it hangs.

The stupid rookie doesn’t even have gloves on, Selina notes with irritation, and she thinks that she’s never been so disgusted in her life. Not only by this amateur, but by the fact that this amateur actually got in. Seriously, Bruce? she thinks. If this moron got in, imagine how easy it would be for someone with actual skills to get in.

Maybe Bruce deserved to be robbed.

“Idiots,” Selina mutters, as she unfurls her whip and prepares to strike, “both of them.”

The thief looks like he’s just about to bring the Monet down on his head and damage it before he can even successfully steal it, so Selina sighs, twists her wrist outward, and curls her whip around him, yanking him backwards.

“You’re trespassing, Wayne Manor is my territory,” Selina hisses. “You have two options, a smart one and a stupid one: leave quietly by walking out on your own, or leave quietly because I’m dragging your body out.”

At her words, the thief twists, lurching around within the whip violently, reaching for something, and it’s not a second later that Selina sees the silver barrel of a gun pointed at her chest.

She doesn’t find the gun worrisome. She’s taken down men taller and heavier than this one, with bigger guns and smarter plans, but she is irritated. What is it with gun-carrying freaks wanting to shoot her in Wayne Manor?

“I see you’re going with the stupid option,” Selina says, and she rolls her eyes, as unimpressed as she is unsurprised. She jerks her whip hard and fast, and then watches as the inept thief falls, knocking himself unconscious against the hardwood floor. The gun flies from his now-limp hand and goes skittering across the hall, and Selina’s about to fetch it, when she feels a familiar presence and she stills, motionless as one of the expensive statues that line the hall she stands in.

He’s there. She knows. She’s not sure how. She’d been so distracted by the other intruder, she hadn’t even been consciously reminding herself to watch out for Bruce. But it seems that, as unconscious as it was, she’s still managed to sense him anyways.

Maybe it’s because the thought of him is always right there in the back of her mind, ever constant, like the cadence of her heartbeat.

Bracing herself, Selina turns, and finds herself face to face with Bruce. They stand there - her in the shadows, him in the pale half-light - staring at each other.

Neither moves, and it’s like the moment’s frozen, suspended in time, somewhere in that quiet space between heartbeats and spans of breath.

Since he’s been back, Selina’s seen him in his mask, seen him from a distance, but not up close, not like this. Bruce is so close, she could reach out and touch him with the tip of her claw, but the distance between them somehow feels farther, the chasm between them wider, and so she doesn’t move. There’s so much between them that’s been left unsaid, and she’s not exactly angry at him, but she still hasn’t quite forgiven him either. She doesn’t know what to say, so instead of speaking, Selina studies him.

He’s older now. Taller, broader. He’d always been serious, but somehow he looks even more so. It’s like the look on his face is halfway between solemn and sad, and Selina finds herself searching his eyes, looking for signs of the boy she once knew so long ago. But she doesn’t know what will hurt more: if she finds him, or if she doesn’t, so she stops looking.

“Bruce,” she finally says, finding her voice and breaking the silence. “Your security system’s as lame as always.”

“Selina,” Bruce replies, his voice calm and steady. He doesn’t look surprised to see her for some reason.

“This guy was trying to rob you,” Selina continues, for lack of anything better to say, as she motions vaguely toward the unconscious body on the floor. “Can you believe it?”

Bruce merely raises his eyebrows, “And what exactly were you doing here?”

“That’s different,” Selina says, somewhat defensively. It’s different because it’s her and it’s him and it’s here. That’s why she has to protect this place, because as sharp and cynical as she may be, she always protects what’s hers. Doesn’t he know that?

There’s another span of silence, and they keep staring at each other, keep standing in Wayne Manor’s hall, just like they did so many years ago, and it’s simultaneously like everything and nothing between them has changed.

“I’ll call Gordon to come get him,” Bruce finally says, nodding at the body on the floor, and Selina thinks that their stilted conversation has run its course and is coming to a close, but then Bruce looks up at her and says, “So, Wayne Manor is ‘your territory?’”

Selina blinks, her clawed fingers curling in the dark as she curses herself. She must not have hissed that territory sentence out as quietly as she had thought, and she can tell that Bruce is wearing that look she remembers from when she was young, where he presses his lips together and tries not to look smug and fails.

Idiot, Selina thinks. She’d forgotten how irritating he could be, how easy it was for him to try her patience and get under her skin. That’s one aspect of their relationship that remains unchanged, apparently. She cocks an eyebrow, rests her hand against her hip, and challenges him with, “You got a problem with that, Bruce?”

“No,” he says, slightly shaking his head. “You always were the unofficial lady of the manor anyways.”

He says it so calmly, so casually, as if she knows this, as if it’s a fact he thinks is as obvious as gravity, as if he has no idea that his words are taking her by surprise and making something in her chest ache for the years before.

And then Bruce turns away from her, and Selina thinks that he’s going to disappear again. He’ll go back to his study, and she’ll slip out into the night, and they’ll go back to being ghosts of each other’s past, just a bittersweet, broken mess of almosts and used to be’s. But then Bruce turns to look back over his shoulder at her.

”Come into the kitchen while you’re here,” he says, the invitation issued in that formal manner of his, as if it’s not two in the morning and she hasn’t just broken in uninvited. “It’s Sunday. Alfred made lemon cake.”

“I know,” Selina says, rolling her eyes. She’s somehow offended that he thinks she’s forgotten. “It’s Sunday. It’s tradition.”

And then something happens that Selina doesn’t expect: Bruce smiles.

Selina hasn’t seen Bruce Wayne smile in ten long years.

She never thought she’d see him smile at her again.

It’s not a big smile. It’s small and barely there, just the slightest upward turn at the corners of his mouth. It wouldn’t even be noticeable if you didn’t know him, but Selina does, and she knows it’s genuine.

It’s stupid that something so small can stop her in her tracks, can almost leave her breathless. But it does, and she can feel her pulse race just a little bit faster, can feel that pull he has toward her again. Bruce once stood there and told her that he felt tied together with her in a way he wouldn’t want to ever change, and she thought that maybe it had changed. But there’s something about the way he’s staring at her that tells Selina that it hasn’t.

“You remembered the schedule,” Bruce says.

He doesn’t need to fill in the blanks. Doesn’t need to say out loud that it’s been a decade and she still hasn’t forgotten. They’re both thinking it.

Selina rolls her eyes.

“Sure,” she says, shrugging her shoulders and trying to sound like she couldn’t care less, like the memories of Sunday’s at Wayne Manor aren’t ones that she replays in her head on lonely weekend nights as she falls asleep alone. It takes all of Selina’s self-control to keep her face an unreadable mask and pretend that the cake isn’t the very reason why she came and that them in the hall and her breaking in isn’t making her mind spin from déjà vu.

“I don’t forget good free food,” Selina tells him. The best liars always tell the truth, after all, even if it’s only part of it. “So, yeah, I remember. Besides, the lemon cake always was my favorite.”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, repeating her words, “I remember.”

Ten years. Ten years since she’s stood in his home, ten years since they’ve spoken this much. And yet he still remembers which one of Alfred’s desserts is her favorite.

She wonders if memories of Sunday’s at Wayne Manor when they were together ever run through his mind too.

“Whatever,” Selina says dismissively, making sure to sound as indifferent as possible. Admitting to having feelings is definitely not her thing, and just because she feels the fluttering melody of her heartbeat beating out a rhythm against her ribcage like it did when she was eighteen doesn’t mean that he needs to know that. She’s got a reputation to keep, after all. “Are we reminiscing or cutting cake?”

Bruce nods, looking satisfied with her reply, and then he opens the door that leads to the kitchen, letting a warm glow spill through the doorway and into the dark hall. And behind his back, where she knows he won’t see, Selina ducks her head and her mask falls, and she smiles.

Because for better or for worse, she’s the guardian of Wayne Manor.

And she’s finally home where she belongs.

#batcat #batcat fanfic #gotham #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batcat fanfiction #catwoman #batman #gotham fanfic #bruce x selina #Selina can rob Bruce but no one else can #cats are territorial like that #I worked really hard on this one guys #batcat fic #my fic

71 notes · View notes

dimpled-gukkie · 5 years

Text

Click

Moodboard by @i-am-today-we-will-survive

A/n: I’ve been working on this for over a month and was debating whether I should post the first part and make it a series or to finish the whole thing first but I thought you guys deserved to at least read something I wrote. Anyways, thank you @euphoriajjkook , @i-am-today-we-will-survive , and @delboyanddier for helping me write this and giving me your feedback. Hopefully you’ll continue to do so on the next part ❤️

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ft. Sassy Park Jimin & Kim Namjoon

Genre: College AU/ S2L

Warnings: Explicit language strewn throughout, brief mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 10.6k

Summary: Writing is something you have always loved to do. It’s what got you into the London Arts Academy Study Abroad program in the first place. Lately though you can’t help but feel like your creativity has run dry so you turn to this new foreign city to make you fall back in love with your passion. Turns out writing isn’t the only thing you’re passionate about.

An airport is the greatest place on earth to people watch. It’s a point of conjunction for all walks of life to meet, small interactions twisting lives together, entangling their timelines for short moments. Anything can happen at an airport, a place where time doesn’t seem to really exist. Though the people rushing past you with sweat trickling down their faces would probably like to argue that statement if only they had the time.

For those who don’t have connecting flights however, the airport can be a bit like a time machine. You don’t need to worry about the current time, only the time of the place you’re going. Glancing down at your phone screen you still have an hour before your plane even boards. Sighing, because an hour here feels like an eternity, you pack up your things and head over to the over-priced coffee shop located conveniently after the security checkpoint. Nothing like loosing braincells by waiting an hour to get an invasive pat down and spending a whole $7 on watered down coffee beans to recharge.

The man in front of you huffs angrily, his shoes still untied signaling he just came from security and in his haste to get away from the checkpoint he couldn’t even be bothered to do a menial task. You continue watching his behavior, there’s really nothing else to do at this point, noting the way he taps his watch in time with his shoe. You wonder if this is a passive aggressive way of telling both the person in front of him as well as the baristas to hurry up or if he just has a song in his head. Judging by his red ears its probably the former.

Noting down his characteristics in the notes on your phone, a deep voice sounds from behind you, “You a spy or something?” Turning around, you’re greeted with a boy around your own age, long dark brown hair messily strewn under a black newsboy cap. He grins at you, the corners of his mouth pulling into an odd rectangular shape, his dark almond eyes scrunching as his cheeks push them upwards.

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, half struck by his beauty and half confused by his question.

“Hey man,” The boy taps the annoyed man on his shoulder. The man whips around like a wild dog, practically snarling at someone disrupting his order but the boy seems undeterred, the mischievous glint in his eyes brightening. “Just thought you should know a spy is watching you.” Your eyes widen as he points his gaze at you a few times, silently telling the man that you’re the culprit and you put your hands out in an innocent manner. The boy glances down at you and smirks a little, amused by your expression.

“I-I- no I’m not. I was just uhh…” How do you explain you were taking notes on a guy to use for a character in your novel? As you struggle to come up with an explanation, the man’s gaze suddenly turns worried and he looks to the boy behind you once more who nods in justification to his words.

“I promise I’ll get him the money. I- I just need more time.” The man says hurriedly before dashing away, tripping on his untied laces in his hurry. Your gaze falls on the boy behind you, his body folded in half in his laughter and you can only gape at him.

“Wha- what just happened? I’m not a spy!” He pops up then, gaze suddenly serious and mouth set in a straight line.

“That’s something a spy would say.” He raises a thick eyebrow up and you roll your eyes at him.

“That’s also something that a not-spy would say.”

“Touche. But do you think we should tell someone about that dude? He seemed suspicious.” The boy asks, his hand moving up to play with his earring in thought.

“I’m sure it’s fine. I just hope he’s not on my plane.” You turn around and order, expecting that to be the end of your conversation with the strange boy but are completely surprised when he tacks his order onto your own before handing his card over.

When the cashier asks for his name he turns to you saying, “Taehyung” in what you suppose to be his way of introduction. “So spy-“

“Y/n.” You interrupt him.

“Can’t you just play along?” He whines before sighing. “Fine Y/n, why were you taking notes on him anyways? If you’re not a spy after all.”

Your cheeks bloom roses the same way they do every time you have to explain that you’re an aspiring novelist and softly you mumble, “I was taking notes for a character in my novel.” Somehow the boy, Taehyung, heard you and his mouth cracks open into that distinct boxy grin.

“You’re an author!” He asks, his excitement startling you. You were used to the disappointed tsks, the familiar scoldings of your passion not being a real job. To be met with such enthusiasm is simply shocking and caused the clusters of roses on your cheeks to bloom even further. “That’s so cool, I wish I was good at words. I’m a photographer.” His eyes twinkle slightly when he declares his profession, pride taking shape in his stance as his broad shoulders push back to reveal the toned chest beneath his striped long-sleeve. You can’t help but smile back at him, his cheerful personality infectious and his passion for his passion beautiful.

The barista calls Taehyung’s name and you follow him to retrieve your drinks, giving him thanks for buying you one and half expecting him to walk off. Except Taehyung doesn’t and he motions for you to sit down at a nearby table like he wants to continue your conversation. “So what do you like to photograph?” You ask, not one to like sitting in silence with a complete stranger. Though Taehyung is so warm, he’s beginning to feel less like a stranger and more like a friend with each smile he gives you.

“Have you ever heard of abstract impressionism?” You nod your head and he gives you a quick smile. “Well basically around post-impressionism photography was also growing quite popular and artists began using photographs to take pictures of their subjects to later recreate in a studio setting, which began the link between art and photography. So I do the opposite, you could say. I focus on emotions, colors, and movements like Monet and Degas but in photographs rather than with paint.”

“Can I see some?” You ask, not quite grasping what he’s telling you. Grinning widely, he nods, shuffling his camera out of his bag to pull up a few photos on the screen. The first photo he shows you has a cluster of monarch butterflies, their wings misshapen as they’re caught in movement. Their wings look similar to passing buildings when you drive down the freeway at a fast speed, blurs of colors and white lights, their wings caught in a rapid flutter. You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your mouth, starstruck by the complex simplicity of the photograph. You never thought you’d say a blurry photo was beautiful but somehow Taehyung did it. “That’s really beautiful Taehyung.” You say softly, still entranced in the picture and following the movement of the butterflies’ wings.

“Thanks.” He says quietly, a small voice on him already so out of character that you look up. His cheeks are a dusty red, a small smile dimpling them. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something more but your phone obnoxiously buzzes and you smile sheepishly at him before checking it.

You nearly drop your phone onto the ground in your haste to stand up, your bags clanging loudly against your table and drawing the attention of nearby people. “I’m really sorry Taehyung but I have to go. My flight is boarding right now and…” Looking around frantically you check the signs of the gates, sighing in defeat when you realize yours is at the other end of the airport. “My gate is on the other end of the airport. Anyways I really have to get going. It was nice talking to you!” You yell, beginning your long sprint through the terminal. You feel bad for laughing at those people hurrying through the airport earlier. How did the hour pass by so quickly? Heavy footsteps join yours and you turn your head to the side, nearly knocking into someone as Taehyung runs next to you.

“My flight is boarding too!” He huffs and if you weren’t so stressed you’d laugh. What are the odds that both your flights are boarding at the same time? As you sprint through the airport, Taehyung staying by your side even as you weave through the crowds of people, you can’t help but fantasize you both having the same flight. It’d be nice to carry on your conversation with Taehyung, get to know more about him and his passion for art. Maybe even snag his number if you’re lucky. You can’t deny that he’s handsome, even as he pants next to you, his hair begin to stick to his forehead as sweat accumulates under his hat. But fate usually doesn’t play in your favor so you don’t put much hope to your thoughts. With your luck he’s probably on the plane next to yours and the luckiest you’ll get is to wave at him through the window. To your surprise though Taehyung pulls to a stop at your gate and you both pause to look at each other before it clicks. He’s on your flight. What’s next? His seat being next to yours?

Good things really do come to an end as you wave at Taehyung seated a few rows in front of you. You guess your timer had run out, your good luck ran dry, and you can’t help but pout in your seat, momentarily forgetting that you’re afraid of flying. It only seems to click when the stewardesses are making their final rounds to secure the cabin that the fear sets in, wrapping its sharp claws around your throat and making it hard to breathe. You tap your foot anxiously to the fast beating of your heart, clasping your hands tightly in your lap as a way to ground yourself. Your eyes water and a blur of dark hair catches your attention and you smile slightly at Taehyung, who’s risen up in his seat to glance back at you. Through your watery vision that you hastily blink away, you can make out the concerned draw of his eyebrows and his hand waving at one of the stewardesses to catch their attention. In a minute he’s standing at your row with a sheepish smile on his face, large hands wrapped around a black duffel bag.

”Excuse me sir, but would you mind switching seats with this young man? His girlfriend is pregnant and has major flight anxiety.” She gestures to you but you’re too busy trying to take deep breaths to say anything. “And you’d be trading a middle seat for a window.” Only then does the middle-aged man begin to move, grumbling to himself while he gathers his things. Taehyung immediately shuffles in and places a warm hand on your own comfortingly, only saying something once he’s successfully shoved his duffel bag into the small compartment under his seat.

“Hi,” He says softly. “thought you could use some company.” He makes no move to mention his hand now laced into your own and neither do you. You smile weakly at him in response, squeezing his hand tightly in a silent thanks. The bouncing of your leg increases as the plane roars to life and you pull your conjoined hands into your lap, using Taehyung’s arm like a makeshift seatbelt. “It’s gonna be okay.” He tells you, his thumb rubbing soothingly across your knuckles. He squeezes your hand once to get you to look at him and your body relaxes slightly at the certainty in his eyes. “Say it with me, we’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay.” You mumble, looking out the window as the plane gets taxied to the runway. Your gaze snaps back to Taehyung when he places a pair of headphones over your ears, a soothing symphony already playing. The volume is loud enough that you can barely hear the engine rumbling, can only feel the vibrations as the plane hurdles down the runway before leaping into the sky. Only when the seatbelt sign flicks off does Taehyung pull the headphones off your ears, smiling widely at you as the tenseness in your body fades away. Taking off and landing were the worst parts.

“See what did I tell you? I knew we’d be ok-“ Your hand lands over his mouth before he can complete his sentence, eyes already scanning for some sort of wood to knock on.

“Shhh! Don’t jinx it.” You exclaim, knocking on Taehyung’s wooden phone case. Taehyung’s mouth moves under your palm, his eyes creasing as he lets out a muffled laugh and you pull your hand away with a glare. “Don’t laugh.” You pout, which only makes Taehyung smile even wider.

“You’re so cute Y/n.” He coos, trapping your face between his large hands. Your mind immediately drifts to the idiot sandwich meme and you slap his hands away. Taehyung talks to you until your eyes grow heavy and you blink sleepily at him, trying your hardest to stay awake. You don’t want him to think he’s boring you to sleep but the stress of riding on a plane and your anxiety took a toll on you, your energy depleted despite the coffee you ingested earlier. “You tired?” Taehyung asks quietly, smiling softly at you. Nodding you mumble your apologies but he just shakes them off. “It’s alright love. I’ll wake you up when we land okay?” He says, leaning down to take a book out of his bag. ‘Impressionism in its truest form’ it says. You smile when he puts on his glasses on making him look infinitely softer. You blink a few more times while staring at him until your eyes refuse to reopen and you drift off to sleep.

When you awake it’s to a voice mumbling lowly in your ear and you groan shifting closer into your pillow. The voice laughs and your pillow vibrates and you sleepily open your eyes. Why is your pillow moving? You glance up to see Taehyung smiling down at you and you scramble away from him, cheeks warm from the realization that you were cuddled up to him in your sleep. “I-I’m sorry.” You stutter, eyebrows drawing closed as he smiles brightly at you. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just cute when you’re flustered.”

“Stop.” You whine, pushing on his chest. He giggles at you. “Are you always such a flirt?”

“Do you want me to flirt with you?” He asks, pressing his chin into his palm as he leans in closer to you. You open and close your mouth trying to come up with a snarky remark but his close proximity has you fumbling.

“I-I don’t- Leave me alone.” You huff, crossing your arms and turning away to look out the window. To both your relief and panic the ground gets closer and closer as the plane begins its descent. With a startled gasp, you clutch onto Taehyung wrapping your arms around his own as you shut your eyes. Taehyung places his hand on your knee to give you more access to his arm, squeezing it a few times in reassurance. You keep your eyes closed until the plane stops bouncing as it hits the runway, the engines silencing. You peel your eyes open glancing to Taehyung who smiles down at you.

“See, I told you it was gonna be okay.”

“Yeah I guess you weren’t wrong.” You say. He keeps his hand on your knee even after you release his arm from your grip.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing in London?”

“Oh! I’m doing a foreign exchange with an art university here.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be the London Arts Academy program would it?” Your eyes widen as your mind begins to process what this means.

“You’re part of it too?” You ask and Taehyung nods excitedly, his eyes sparkling.

“Guess I’ll get to see more of you huh love?”

When you step outside of the airport, the sky is overcast and painting the city in a soft white light. Taehyung stands by your side, tucking his hand into your own as you both get swallowed by the amount of tourists in the area. You’re thankful for his continuous support towards you even though you both are practically strangers.

“So what do you plan to write while you’re here?” Taehyung asks, pulling you towards the bus stop your university directed you to upon your arrival.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumble ashamedly, causing Taehyung to frown. Before you looked so happy when mentioning your passion, eyes bright like the sun, and just like that very sun your glow is now obstructed by your uncertainty and woefully dim.

“That’s alright. I mean I’m sure you’ll find some inspiration here. We’re in a brand new city after all.” Taehyung holds out his free hand, gesturing to city around you. He almost smacks a man in the face and you struggle to hold back a giggle.

“I hope so.” You say softly. You can’t help but feel a little guilty to have taken this spot of such a prestigious program only to have no ideas. Well you do have ideas you just hate them. They’re bland and boring, some done a few times. There’s nothing that makes you excited, nothing making you itch to have your fingers on the keys, to spill your plot onto a page. It’s like all your creativity has been drained from you.

“Come with me.” Taehyung says suddenly and you turned to him confused. “I have some places in mind I wanna scope out to take photos of. Maybe they’ll bring you inspiration too!” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle like the flickering light a few feet away.

“If you’re sure.” You’d hate to intrude.

“Wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t.” A bus rumbles towards you, breaks squeaking as it pulls to a stop.

“Comforting.” You say causing Taehyung to chuckle. The driver steps out and loads your bags into the vehicle, huffing at the weight of your bags.

“Women am I right? Constantly overpacking their luggage.” Taehyung says to the driver, smirking at you as you scoff and hit his arm.

“Actually it was your bag that was the heaviest.” The driver says matter-of-factly, and you fold in on yourself in laughter. Taehyung turns to you with a slight blush, tangling his hand in his long dark hair as he smiles shyly.

“Serves you right.” You grin, heading inside the large charter. Taehyung is quick on your heels, sitting in the seat in front of you. “Tired of me already?” You tease, tilting your head to the empty seat beside you.

“Actually can’t get enough of you. Just thought you could use a moment of separation before you’re stuck with me for the next two months.” Taehyung says unabashedly.

You lean forward, pressing your elbows into your knees. “That so?”

Your grin widens as Taehyung inches closer, resting his chin on the top of the seat. “Yes I’m afraid.”

“Damn I wish my girlfriend was on this trip with me.” An unfamiliar voice says from the front of the bus. You and Taehyung both turn to the voice with wide eyes, having forgotten that it’s not just you two in this program. “Hi I’m Jimin.” The boy smiles, eyes scrunching due to the plumpness of his cheeks as he gives a small wave.

“I’m Namjoon.” The boy beside Jimin says, hunching over slightly as his tall frame seems to be struggling in the bus. They both move towards you and take a seat in the row behind you. Well initially Namjoon tries to sit next you before Jimin pushes him away, mumbling something about letting lovers be. You blush at the comment but don’t say anything, not wanting to draw attention in hopes Taehyung hadn’t heard. “What do you guys do?”

“I’m a photographer. I specialize in impressionistic photography.” Like before Taehyung stands tall when he mentions his passion, something you can’t help but admire him for.

“Ahh cool! You like impressionism too?” Jimin exclaims, reaching across you to give Taehyung a high five. “I’m a painter, but I also like making little cartoon animals sometimes. Like this little guy!” Jimin shows you his phone, smiling proudly at the little yellow hooded dog waving at you from the screen. “His name is Chimmy after his daddy.”

Namjoon groans from beside him, placing a hand over his face exasperatedly. “Please never refer to yourself as daddy again.”

“Do you need a snickers bar Joonie? You’re not yourself when you’re hungry, instead you’re a HATER.” Jimin throws a snickers bar at Namjoon causing the tall boy to roll his eyes.

“I get that being dramatic comes with being an artist but could you tone it down a little? I’m tired.”

“Ahh yes, another late night at the studio?” Jimin teases before turning back to you and Taehyung who were watching the scene with wide eyes. “My boy Joonie here is a musician. Writes some sad ass lyrics, but they’re actually pretty deep. I’m still waiting for my own song though, which I deserve for putting up with him for the last 12 years as his best friend.”

“You put up with me?” Namjoon sounds offended, but the way he dramatically places his hand over his heart says differently. You giggle at their interaction and that brings their attention back to you. “What do you do again?” Namjoon asks, seemingly forgetting you never told them in the first place.

“I’m a writer.” You say softly, cheeks tinged a dusty pink. You know you should be proud to say it, especially when met with such creative minds yet you can’t help it. You’ve been faced with too much disappointment about your passion in the past.

“Cool! Maybe we could work together sometime? I need help with the lyrics for my new song.” Namjoon smiles, dimples pressing into his cheeks.

“Oh! Okay.” You say, startled by Taehyung coming to sit beside you. You realize then that the bus is beginning to fill up with other students, the volume gradually becoming greater as people begin to interact with each other and make new friends. You can’t help but feel like you made the right choice as you all dig into the bag of skittles Jimin brought along with him, joking around and trying to toss them into each other’s mouths.

When you pull up to the school, your jaw drops at the beautiful architecture, something very unlike your university at home. The building vaguely resembles a castle and you can’t help but feel like you stepped back into time as you walk inside the building, trudging your suitcase behind you. You look over at Taehyung and you can picture him as a prince, probably one of the most sought after too for his ethereal looks and kind personality. Maybe you should write something about a prince? Jimin bumps into you from behind and you let the idea die, disheartened by the squire in front of you. “Sorry uhh…Wait did we not ask for your names?” Jimin says.

“Oh I guess not. I’m Y/n, this is Taehyung.”

“I feel like a jerk.” Jimin pouts and you can’t resist the urge to ruffle his hair like you would to a sad child.

“It’s alright. You were just excited.”

“Like a puppy.” Taehyung says and you gasp.

“Like your drawing! Jimin you really are the same as chimmy.” You exclaim and he laughs, cheeks a soft pink.

“You might as well call me puppy.” Jimin jokes but much to his dismay you and Taehyung take a liking to it.

“Alright puppy.” You both say in unison before looking at each other and giggling. Jimin rolls his eyes, less than enthused by your teasing. His lips form a plush pout and his eyes round making him resemble an upset puppy. Taehyung reaches forward and pinches one of Jimin’s bread-like cheeks between his fingers which makes the other man pout further after swatting his hand away.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Jimin whines and Namjoon just places an apologetic hand on his shoulder.

“It’s the curse of being so cute Jiminie.” Jimin screams loudly in annoyance before storming off to his room which only makes the three of you giggle.

“What floor are you two on?” Namjoon asks, following in the direction Jimin went.

“Two.” You and Taehyung say in unison once again, causing you both to look at each other. What a coincidence.

“Ahh, Jimin and I are on four. Want to meet back down here in an hour to go get some food? Orientation is tomorrow so we have the whole night off.” You and Taehyung nod and Namjoon waves before leaving the two of you alone again.

“They seem cool.” Taehyung says, leading the way towards the second floor. He offers to take your backpack for you but you refuse.

“Yeah they do. I think we have a good group.” You say. Taehyung nods in agreement before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“You’re mine though. My ride or die, my plus one, my best bud.”

“Partner in crime?” You tease and Taehyung laughs.

“That too.” Taehyung pulls to a stop in the middle of the hallway and for the first time an awkward silence forms between the two of you. Taehyung fiddles with the keys in his hand, bouncing back and forth on his heels for a little bit. It almost feels like he doesn’t want you to leave. Two minutes pass of the two of you staring at one another, waiting for the other to say something before Taehyung speaks up. “Well I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Yeah.” You say softly, hoping to hide your disappointment. You’ve grown rather fond of the brunette with the boxy smile. Taking out your own key from your pocket you continue down the hallway, actually paying attention to the room numbers this time. “Did I pass it?” You mumble to yourself, jumping slightly when Taehyung asks you if you need any help. You thought he had already gone inside. “Yeah I can’t find 222.” Taehyung steps outside to help you look only to turn to you with a large grin.

“Love, I think I found it.” You hurry towards him, having to blink a few times to make sure what you’re seeing is right. Your door is the one right across from Taehyung’s. You’re starting to think these are less of a coincidence and more of fate shoving the idea of romance down your throat. But turning towards Taehyung you decide you don’t mind all that much. Maybe you should write a story about lost lovers? “As much as I love you staring at me and admiring my handsomeness, you gotta unpack at some point.” Taehyung laughs and you turn away with a blush. Scratch that idea, romance is dead anyways.

“R-right. I’ll just umm go then. See you in an hour?” Taehyung checks his watch.

“Make that 50 minutes.” He grins, waving to you as you duck into your room to hide your embarrassment.

Someone knocks at your door right on the hour and fixing your hair one last time you open it to reveal a smiling Taehyung. He’s removed the news cap in place for a beanie, his hair even more fussed than when you first saw him in line at the airport and yet he looks ungodly attractive. He’s swapped his long sleeve for a black thrasher hoodie but still wears the same black pants from before. “You changed.” He says quietly, scanning your figure. You fidget under his piercing eyes, pulling and twisting the drawstrings of your own oversized hoodie.

“Yeah, I felt gross after the flight. Plus it’s kinda cold outside.”

“You could’ve borrowed mine if you were cold.” Taehyung says matter-of-factly.

“Well I didn’t know that. Or know that you’d be wearing one. But I’ll keep it in mind for the future.” You tell him, locking your door before you both head back to the main floor to meet Jimin and Namjoon. When you arrive they’re already bickering, something about Jimin stealing Namjoon’s favorite shirt.

“Hey guys!” Jimin chirps, moving over to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t you like my shirt.”

“First off, that’s mine. Secondly, the audacity. This kid.” Namjoon says, nodding towards Jimin.

“Fuck you Namjoon. Just because I’m small does not mean I’m a child. Besides if this was yours then why was it in my suitcase packed with my clothes?“

“Hmm I don’t know… maybe because you STOLE it.”

“How are you two the most chaotic people I know already and I’m friends with Taehyung?” You say.

“It’s how we roll baby.” Jimin says and you all collectively gag. “I hate you all. I can’t believe you got into this program.”

“Yeah same. They really lowered their standards if they let you in.” Namjoon quips, only to be smacked on the back of the head by Jimin. Jimin’s eyes are now a dark coal and you wonder if you’ve all gone too far as his eyes flicker with anger. “Ahh, calm down Jiminie. You know I love you.” Jimin smiles brightly, appeased by Namjoon’s praise. You’ll have to remember that compliments make him feel better.

“Yeah sorry puppy. We didn’t mean to make you upset.” You say and Jimin only smiles, waving his hand to dismiss your comment.

“It’s alright. I wasn’t really mad anyways. well not at you at least.”

“Do you wanna go eat now?” Taehyung asks and you all nod enthusiastically.

“What should we get?’ You ask, the four of you wandering off campus to look at local restaurants.

“I’m thinking like a british staple. I’ve been dying to try out my british accent in Britain.” Namjoon says, already heading towards a local fish and chips shop.

“If we’re getting fish and chips then you have to order. For all of us. And we get to be over there.” Jimin points to a bench ten feet away. “I don’t want to be associated with you when you offend the masses with that awful accent.” Namjoon rolls his eyes at Jimin’s remark but heads to the ordering window anyways.

“We should help him.” You say, stepping to follow Namjoon only for Jimin to stop you with a hand on your wrist.

“We will. Just after he orders.”

“You play dirty Park Jimin.” He grins at you wickedly, sending you a quick wink.

“I know.”

When Jimin assures you that Namjoon has in fact ordered you pull out a wad of cash, attempting to hand the cost of your order to him. “No need.” Namjoon smiles, his dimples presenting themselves. “On the house because the guy liked my accent. Besides we’re friends anyways, I don’t mind covering once in a while.”

“Well thanks man. I can buy coffee tomorrow for everyone before orientation.” Taehyung smiles.

“I can cover pastries or something for breakfast!” You say and Taehyung pulls you into his side.

“Looks like we can go together.”

“Eww can you keep the coupley stuff to yourselves. It’s only cute when you’re part of it.” Jimin groans, fake gagging to show his distaste.

“Oh we’re- we’re not together. We just met like today.” You say hurriedly, worried Taehyung would be offended at the misunderstanding. You’re so worried you miss the way his smile droops a little, his eyes losing their sparkle. Taehyung retracts his arm from around you and the four of you stand in awkward silence.

“Oh my bad, Sorry, you guys just have such good chemistry.” Jimin says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“No big deal. But yeah we just sort of clicked huh love?” You don’t bother to correct Taehyung for the nickname, not wanting to make anything more awkward. Or maybe it’s just because you like it. His affection, his smile, his nickname for you, just him.

“We did. You know after we cleared up that I’m not a spy.” You don’t get a chance to further elaborate on your sentence because a bell is rung at the pick-up window and you all get too focused on inhaling your dinner, tired and hungry from the long flight. Within ten minutes your plates are picked clean, and you pat your food baby affectionately. “Well guys, looks like I’m expecting.” You giggle, rubbing your food baby for extra emphasis.

“Me too! Joonie be ready to be an uncle to Chimmy.” Jimin pulls up his shirt to reveal his tone torso, one that makes you internally gasp because you weren’t expecting someone so cute to have abs, and turns to the side to show off his barely bloated stomach.

“Congratulations!” Taehyung yells, causing a few passerby to turn their heads towards you and Jimin to lower his shirt with slightly pink-tinged cheeks. “I expect an invite to the shower. And a plus one for Y/n.”

“Why do you assume I’m not invited?” You ask Taehyung, brows pulled together and bottom lip jutted.

“I change my mind. Y/n you’re invited, Taehyung you can be her plus one.” You cheer through your laughter, folding in on yourself when you look up at Taehyung’s pouting face. Serves him right.

“You hear that Tae? You’re my plus one.”

“Yeah yeah whatever.”

It’s been a week since the program has started and you and Taehyung are inseparable. The only time you can be seen without each other is when you have class and even then Taehyung drops you off and picks you up at the door. You’ve grown fond of his boisterous laugh and deep voice, entranced by the way his mind works. He flows so easily through topics, one second questioning the inner workings of the universe to the next asking why dolphins haven’t adapted gills if whales once had legs. It’s one of those rare moments on sunday morning where you’re alone and you can’t help but wish for the boxy-smiled boy to be beside you. Like he’s called by your thoughts a knock sounds at your door and you hurry out of bed to throw it open. Taehyung immediately walks inside before plopping onto your bed, watching as you make your way back to him. “Let’s go somewhere.” He says, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. You’ve learned this past week that Taehyung is very physical when it comes to affection but you don’t mind.

“Where to?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair. It really was as soft as it looked. He hums against your stomach and places his chin on it to look up at you with a grin.

“It’s a surprise!” He says excitedly.

“At least tell me how I’m supposed to dress then?” You say.

“Whatever you wear you’ll look beautiful in.”

“Not helpful.” You huff and turn back towards your closet to hide the roses in your cheeks.

“You try and give someone a compliment and they-“

“Fine. Thank you Tae.” You grumble, shoving aside your clothes to look for something. You pick out a pair of shorts and your favorite long-sleeved shirt, stepping into your bathroom to change. When you come out Taehyung has your polaroid camera in his hands, making funny faces as he snaps several pictures of himself.

“You wasting all my film?” You laugh, enjoying the slight blush on his cheeks.

“I-umm…” Taehyung fumbles over his words, the sound of your camera printing the cutting over him. When the films are fully developed you flip through them, giggling to yourself as his poses get more and more ridiculous. You pause on the last photo, his pointer finger pushing lightly into his plush bottom lip, shifting it to the right and showing his white teeth. His head is cocked to the left, long brown hair soft as it passes over his eyebrow and frames around his eyes, He looks cute. “Why do you keep staring at that one?” Taehyung asks, shifting nervously behind you. You turn back to him, a little out of it from observing his features so deeply. He’d be perfect character in a mythological universe. His beauty rivaling Aphrodite herself. “I know I look ugly in that one, stop looking!” Taehyung laughs, attempting to snatch the photo out of your hand.

“Kim Taehyung don’t you dare say you’re ugly.” You scold, turning to him with a hard gaze. “You are anything but ugly.”

“Yeah whatever.” Taehyung says, and you roll your eyes.

“You try and give someone a compliment and they-“ You tease, quoting Taehyung from earlier which only makes him yell.

“Hey! Using my words against me is not very nice.” He whines, lips pulling into a soft pout. “What are you doing?” His brows furrow as he watches you place the image in the back of your phone before sealing it in your case again, turning it over so his picture faces you through the clear case.

“There. So now everyone can see how cute you are.” You smile proudly at him and he giggles at your determination, before turning and grabbing your camera again from your desk. He points it at you and you cock your head to the side confused. Why does he want to take a picture of you?

“It’s only fair.” He smiles making you grin back at him before the camera flashes. He shakes the film aggressively in an urge to make it develop faster and you lean into his shoulder as you watch it develop, wondering what it’ll look like. You’ll never be as photogenic as Taehyung but you hope you look at least somewhat decent, somewhat attractive to the man standing beside you. “Look at that.” Taehyung says, peeling his phone out of his case to place the polaroid in the back so it’s visible like his in yours. “What did I tell you?” He asks, eyes not leaving the photo. “Beautiful.” He says softly, finger trailing along the photo.

Taehyung’s hand is in yours when you pull up to the bakery, your other hand stuffed in your pocket to keep it safe in the chill of the air. The bells rings softly above you as you follow Taehyung inside, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air. Your stomach growls lowly and you hide your face in Taehyung’s arm, his laughter ringing out through the quiet shop. A woman appears from behind the back and wipes her hands on the white apron tied around her waist. “Hi, how can I help you?” She smiles.

“We’re here for that cake decorating class.” Taehyung says, causing the woman’s eyes to widen.

“Oh right! Hold on one minute, I’ll bring the supplies out and you can settle down at one of the tables.” She rushes off and Taehyung shrugs off his cardigan, placing it on the seat next to him.

“Why cake decorating?” You ask him, taking a seat directly across from him.

“Why not?”

“This inspires you?” You mumble, looking at the woman who rushes around while whispering to herself frantically.

“There’s more ways to be inspired than just seeing something Y/n.” Taehyung says softly and you holt a little. It’s been so long since he’s last called you by your name. You hate it.

“Why Y/n?” You ask and Taehyung furrows his brows.

“I don’t know why your parents named you that.”

“No, not that. Why not love?” You ask and Taehyung blushes a little.

“Namjoon said I shouldn’t call you love anymore because you might not be comfortable with it if you have a boyfriend or something.”

“Don’t listen to Namjoon anymore.” You tell him, thankful that your conversation is cut short by the woman returning. You miss the way Taehyung smirks.

The woman goes through a quick demo of all the tools and techniques before disappearing into the back mumbling something about a wedding cake. You almost want to make her a cup of tea or something to ease her stress. She’s clearly very busy. Taehyung and you fall into an easy silence as you draw on the cakes with your colored icing. You’ve stuck to a more cool palette of blues and greens meanwhile Taehyung is making every color under the sun. Streaks of pink mix with a deep blue, intercepted by a streak of fluorescent yellow. “Taehyung what are you making?” You laugh, moving to stand up and get a better look.

“A masterpiece.” He says distractedly, not lifting up his head from the cake. He seems to be having a lot more fun with his than you are so you decide to borrow from his technique and start smearing the colors around to look like streaks of paint. Though you can’t bring yourself to stray from the color palette you’ve created in fear of making brown. By the time you’re done and add a yellow dotted circle around the top your cake looks completely different. Gone are the semi-descent flowers, in their place are swirls that rival Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Well, not really but hey you can pretend.

Taehyung finishes not long after you and turns to show you his piece excitedly. An abstract face seems so come out of the icing, its strong nose centered between two blue eyes. “That’s cool Tae.” You fight the urge to swipe a dollop of frosting from it and plop it into your mouth.

“Lemme see yours!” Turning your own cake towards him, you watch almost anxiously as he takes in your work. “Pretty.” He says affirmatively. “Lowkey wanna just take a bite out of it.” He tells you making you giggle.

“Do it.” Whipping out your camera, you catch a picture of him just as he takes a large chunk out of the cake and fold in on yourself in laughter.

“You do it too!” He says though a mouthful of cake and you shake your head.

“I don’t want to ruin it.” You whine and he rolls your eyes, coming to stand next to you with his own cake in hand.

“Then take a bite out of mine.” Blushing you take a tentative bite out of his cake, heart thumping against your chest from the fear of him smashing it in your face and also from you taking a bite of something Taehyung’s lips have touched. Why do you sound like a middle schooler with their first crush? Maybe you should write a story about puppy love if you’re getting so worked up about an inadvertent kiss. You make the mistake of looking up at Taehyung as you take a bite and almost choke at the intense look in his eyes. Their normal milk chocolate hue is now dark and you quickly turn away, wiping some of the icing on the corner of your mouth and cheek. Like in a trance Taehyung reaches a hand out and swipes the frosting with his thumb before sucking it off with his tongue. Nope, this is much too R-rated for a puppy love story especially with the way he’s looking like he wants to devour you.

You can’t get the look in Taehyung’s eyes out of your head when you leave the shop even though he has gone back to normal. Nothing about Taehyung is sultry anymore. You can’t help but wonder if you perhaps imagined it in the first place. It was so out of character for Taehyung, maybe you were only seeing what you wanted. Because if you were being honest, nothing sounds better than knowing Taehyung wanted you. That this man who seemed more like a god than a human picked you out of all the people. Someone so quiet and boring, who liked to spend their days sat in front of a computer and making stories out of their head. That someone so bright and lively like Taehyung, enriched with the colors of life, would find you and your monochrome world enrapturing.

“Where to now Tae?” You ask, readjusting the bag that holds your cakes in your hand. Taehyung notices your discomfort and takes the bag from you.

“I wanted to go take some pictures.”

“Let’s drop the cake off back at the dorms though. It’ll get gross if we carry it outside all day.”

You and Taehyung walk hand in hand back to the dorms, stopping by Jimin and Namjoon’s rooms on the way. Knocking on Jimin’s door, you’re greeted by the sight of a sleepy Jimin, his hair tousled and his eyes slowly blinking as he rubs the sleep away. “Yeah?” He croaks, voice raspy.

“Just wanted to see what you guys were up to. Plus we have cake!” You say which immediately makes Jimin perk up.

“Cake?” He says excitedly, salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs. You chuckle and rub his hair.

“Yes puppy. You want some?” He nods, running across the hall to wake up Namjoon who was apparently also still asleep.

“You guys do know it’s like one pm right? What were you guys doing last night?” Taehyung asks as you look around for any cutlery and plates in Jimin’s room.

“We were playing Overwatch with our friend Jungkook from back home. He wouldn’t let us go to sleep until we won.” Namjoon says, stifling a yawn.

“Wow you guys must suck then.” You snicker, earning a half-hearted middle finger from Jimin. “Puppy do you have any like forks and plates?”

“I have chopsticks?” Jimin pulls four sets of chopsticks from seemingly out of nowhere.

“Did you pull chopsticks out your ass or something? Where did they come from?” Taehyung asks.

“If they were from his ass they’d be broken.” Namjoon laughs, taking a pair from Jimin’s hand, sanding the chopsticks quickly before taking a chunk out of your cake.

“Do-do I want to know?” You ask and Namjoon shrugs.

“No, probably not.” Jimin unsheathes his before taking a bite for himself and moaning at the sugary goodness.

“I wish I could live off cake.”

“Why aren’t you eating my cake?” Taehyung whines at Namjoon and Jimin who are crowded around yours.

“Scientific fact that what looks better, tastes better.” Jimin shrugs, moving to take another large bite.

“It’s alright Tae, I’ll eat your cake.” Taking a rather large bite you grin at him, earning yourself a large grin back. “Want some?” You ask, holding out a piece of cake between your chopsticks. You swear you see the same look as before flicker in Taehyung’s eyes as he wraps his lips around the chopsticks but you turn away quickly with a blush to avoid your mind going elsewhere. Taehyung only sees you as a friend and you’ll have to accept that.

The sun has dipped behind the horizon when you and Taehyung finally make it back outside after a ‘family’ dinner with Jimin and Namjoon. Both you and Taehyung have bright smiles painted on your faces, eyes bright and sparkling from Jimin’s secret Apple Ale stash. You tuck your arm into the crook of Taehyung’s as you both carry on down the street, admiring the London sky as you pretend the street lamps are stars. You look over at Taehyung in his big hoodie and black beanie, swaying slightly as you loose your focus to his beauty. Painted in the soft yellow lights, Taehyung looks like an angel sent down from heaven. Your own guardian angel sent down from above to watch over you and show you all the good in the world. You wonder if perhaps a cynical main character and their doting guardian angel would be worth writing. If you could write about Taehyung maybe they would be. You laugh to yourself, watching as Taehyung bends down to call a nearby pigeon. Maybe you should just write a biography about Taehyung since you’re so smitten. Your breath hitches, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by your feelings for a boy you’ve only known a week and you take a few steps back like separating yourself from him will distance you from your feelings. It’s useless because even as he has his back turned to you, you can’t find anything more beautiful than the boy in front of you in this entire city. Damn you and your hopeless romantic heart. It’s been a week and you’ve written nothing, wanting to spend every second basking in Taehyung’s attention. What kind of writer even are you?

Taehyung turns to you finally realizing you’re not beside him with his eyebrows drawn together in concern. When he notices your glassy eyes he immediately cups your face in his large hands. You try and shake them off as your chest shakes but he simply shushes you, placing sloppy kisses on your forehead as a way to soothe you. “What’s wrong love?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” You murmur, looking up at the sky as a way to avoid his imploring eyes.

“Nothing you feel is stupid. Talk to me.”

“I-I just…” You take a moment to collect your thoughts and find your voice. “why am I here? I haven’t written anything this whole week, none of my ideas are good enough. Namjoon’s already almost done with his first song on his mixtape, Jimin’s finished two paintings for his collection. You’ve already found inspiration and what do I have? I have an empty word document on my laptop that’ll probably never be filled.” Taehyung is silent after your speech, his eyes searching for something in yours but you’re not sure what.

“What inspires you?” He asks suddenly and you push his hands away.

“Taehyung were you listening? I have none.”

“No, not what inspires you to write but you as a person. As y/n. What’s your motivation?” He pushes, grabbing your hands back to hold between his own.

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t really have any motivation. I just do it because I like it.”

He takes a step closer and lets go of your hand to put it on your cheek instead. “No motivation huh?” He asks and you hold your breath. It almost seems like he’s going to kiss you and you can’t help but look down at his pink lips, looking soft and pretty. Almost like they’re waiting for you to kiss them. They curve into a smirk and you look back into Taehyung’s eyes to see the same look from earlier flickering in them. “I bet I could find you some.” He chuckles before pressing his lips onto your own. Although you suspected kissing you was his intention you can’t help but freeze for a second before it finally clicks and you melt into his arms, throwing your arms around his neck while his own settle on your waist to pull you closer. When you part your breathing is labored and his lips are slightly swollen, making you press a quick peck to them in pride that you’re the one who made them that way.

“Did you like it?” He asks wryly and you nod your head. “That means you’re gonna do it again right?” You can’t help the giggle tumbling out of your throat as you bury your head in Taehyung’s sweatshirt.

“Yes dufus, I’m gonna do it again.” You reach up to press a soft kiss to his lips but he pulls back making you frown.

“Does this mean I get to be your boyfriend?” He grins cheekily and you blush.

“If you want to be.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t want to be love.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to your nose in lieu of booping it with his finger. “But kisses are for motivation only. If you can’t find motivation for yourself, I’ll be yours.” He grins and you pull him closer for a hug.

“Thanks Tae.”

“Anytime love.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Now come on, I’ve got an empty SD card waiting to be filled and a whole night to get you inspired.” He pulls away and you whine at the loss of his warmth, crawling into his side so he throws his arm around your waist as you walk.

“Where to?” You ask, free hand clutching onto a hot chocolate to fight the cold in the air.

“I got a place in mind.”

Taehyung walks with you along the Thames River, humming happily as he snaps pictures of the moonlight reflecting on the water. You stand quietly beside him as he stops to take pictures of bright red buses and telephone booths. You even run past the camera as it takes a time lapse, becoming lost in the sea of people it captures. “So what’re you gonna do with the photos?” You ask Taehyung, swinging your hands together.

“When we get back to the dorm, I’ll upload them to my computer and overlap them on photoshop. The time lapse one is gonna take a while but I think the end result will be really cool.” Taehyung stops suddenly, eyes wide with excitement and you look around you curious as to what caught his attention mid-sentence.

“Love, we need to go on that carousel.” He doesn’t wait for your reply, hastily dragging you towards the brightly colored ride that plays a soft classical tune as it rotates.

“Tae aren’t we too old for this?”

“Age is just a number love. Who’s to say we’re too young or too old to enjoy things anyways? Besides maybe this could inspire you.”

“I’m trusting you.” You tell him, trying not to focus on the weird looks people are giving you as Taehyung clambers onto the ride and sits on a tiger. He pats the horse next to him happily. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” You tell him and he only laughs.

“Say ‘Tae is the best boyfriend ever’.” He giggles, pointing the camera in your direction. You roll your eyes but say it nonetheless, grinning at his happy smile. He turns around then, pointing the camera out towards the city, getting lost amidst trying to capture the perfect shot. You wiggle your phone out of your pocket and take a secret photo of your own: your large boyfriend sprawled across a plastic tiger meant for a child with a camera pressed firmly to his face and the tip of his tongue pinned between the corner of his lips in concentration. You smile softly at the photo before saving it as your lock screen and tucking the phone back into your pocket.

The ride finally comes to a stop and Taehyung helps you down from your horse, arms wrapped tightly around you in a back hug as you walk back onto the streets, his camera slung lazily over his shoulder. “Did you have fun?” He asks and you nod, leaning your head back into him.

“Yeah.”

“Any inspiration?”

“Unless you want me to write about a killer clown then no.”

“I take you on a cute date and all you get from it is a killer clown. That hurts love.” Taehyung fake pouts when you turn around to face him and you press a soft kiss to his lips to pacify him. He grins immediately, chasing after your lips again.

A slightly heated makeout session later that resulted in a stranger yelling ‘get some!’ at the two of you leads you both on your way back to the dorm, heart warm but hands very very cold. You squeeze onto Taehyung’s hand harder as your other clutches the pocket of your jacket and Taehyung turns his head at you. “What’s wrong?”

“My hand’s cold.”

“Your hand is always cold.” He says, cutting you off to continue speaking when you open your mouth. “I know, I know. Poor circulation.”

“If I were Jimin I’d flip you off right now.” You say causing him to laugh heartily before slipping your conjoined hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“There. Better?” He asks and you hold back a blush, turning your head away and pretending to focus on a nearby building instead.

When you finally make it to the dorms you’re blinking slowly, eyes heavy as you sway slightly in exhaustion. Taehyung still has your hand and his in his pocket and he’s reluctant to let go even though you can see the tiredness reflected in his own eyes. “We should go to bed. We have class in the morning.”

“We should.” Taehyung says and you both just stare at each other for a minute before he finally relents and gives your hand a final squeeze. “I miss you already.” He whines as you bring your hand back to your side.

“You’ll see me in the morning.” You smile softy.

“I know but that’s so far away.” You lean up to place a soft kiss onto his lips, a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Goodnight Taehyung.”

“Goodnight love.” He smiles watching as you enter you dorm and close the door.

The next morning Taehyung arrives at your dorm bright and early, a smile plastered on his face and two coffees in his hand. “One coffee for my wonderful girlfriend.”

“Tae you didn’t have to.” You say softly, pecking his soft cheek gratefully.

“I know but as your boyfriend it’s my job to spoil you. Besides, maybe in your story you can write about a handsome boyfriend who brings his girlfriend coffee every morning.” He winks, taking your hand in his own as he leads you downstairs into the main hall to wait for Jimin and Namjoon.

“Are you asking to be one my characters Kim Taehyung?”

“I do think I’m quite main character worthy.” He grins and you laugh, shoving his shoulder slightly.

“If anyone deserves to be a character it’s me.” Jimin announces, doing a slow spin for you to take in his outfit.

“A talented artist and model, traveling the city of Paris alone in a quest to find inspiration.”

Namjoon coughs loudly muttering ‘amateur’ under his breath.

“Did I ask?” Jimin says to Namjoon, scowling at the older boy. “But really have you seen me? If I wasn’t the reincarnation of Van Gogh, you’d see me strutting down the Paris runway and making it my bitch. I mean look at this ass, it was meant for fame.”

“Okay Kim K, no need to be defensive. But I think a much better story would be about a boy struggling to find himself, trying to use others to define who he is as a person until realizing that his character is who defines him, not materialistic things or other people.”

“How dare you make fun of me for wanting to be a character and then suggesting yourself as one. You’re many things Kim Namjoon, but I never took you for a hypocrite.” Jimin sniffles loudly, looking up into the lights above to try and bring tears to his eyes.

“With all that fake crying maybe you should be a YouTuber instead.” Namjoon says, causing you all to break out into a fit of giggles. Jimin flops dramatically onto the ground, clutching his heart while rolling along the floor.

“Betrayed by my own best friend!” He yells as he writhes.

“You done?” Namjoon asks, utterly unimpressed with Jimin’s antics.

“Hang on, one more minute.” Jimin says before letting out a loud groan and rolling around some more. Jimin finally picks himself up off the floor and makes grabby hands at your coffee. “Please, I’m exhausted from all that work.”

“You just rolled around on the floor.” Namjoon says and Jimin flips him off.

“Do you hear something guys? It’s almost like the ghost of Namjoon is speaking to me.”

“You can’t say I’m dead to you and then respond to what I’m saying.”

“Sometimes I still hear his voice…” Jimin drowns on. “But seriously I do need some coffee.”

“Here you can have some of mine.” Taehyung says, pushing his cup into Jimin’s hand when he reaches for yours instead.

“Oh okay.” Jimin’s gaze flicks between the two of you. “Why’re you being weird about sharing stuff now?”

“I’m not! Just another guy drinking out of my girlfriend’s drink seems…weird.”

“I already knew you two were dating dumbass.” Jimin rolls his eyes, taking a large slurp from Taehyung’s cup before slinging an arm around the taller’s shoulder. “But if it makes you uncomfortable I’ll leach off you now.”

Friday night Jimin whisks you away from a whining Taehyung, claiming you both need some separation as he drags you to his own room and locks the door. “Is there a reason you’re holding me hostage from my boyfriend?” You tease, flopping down onto Jimin’s bed.

“I have tea and Namjoon doesn’t give me the reactions I want.”

“Ouch, you only want me for my dramatics.” You gripe. Jimin rolls his eyes at you before pushing you over on the bed so he can sit down next to you.

“Don’t act like you don’t play favorites.” Jimin says, causing you to sit up and almost knock into his shoulder with your own.

“How dare you!” You gasp and Jimin snickers.

“Oh Tae, let’s go eat. Tae I’m cold, come hug me. Taehyung I’m bored let’s makeout.” Jimin drawls on, making you slap his shoulder.

“I’ve never said that.”

“Maybe not to me, no.” Jimin waggles his eyebrows.

“You’re the worst.”

“I think you mean best.” He corrects and you flip him off.

“Aww look at you, you’re taking after me! I feel so honored to be your biggest influence.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re an influence at all.”

“Every time you try to be mean to me, it’s like a puppy trying to growl. You’re just so cute it’s not scary at all.” Jimin chides, pinching your cheeks between his fingers. You slap them away annoyedly with a huff.

“So what was the tea?” You ask, trying to change the topic of conversation.

“Oh right! Wait a sec, I need to make popcorn.” Jimin hastily gets up and throws a bag in the microwave, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor while he waits for the two minutes for it to pop. When the timer finishes Jimin immediately takes the bag and throws it at you disregarding you juggling the hot bag.

“Okay so the tea is your boyfriend is a rat and ate all my cookies.” You blink a few times at Jimin to fully process his words.

“I’m sorry what?”

“And as his supervisor, the debt now falls onto you. I request two packs of oreo cookies mega stuffed because we all know the cream is the best part. Thank you for coming to my ted talk, you may now rejoin your boyfriend who’s currently harassing me for stealing away your attention.” Jimin concludes, clapping his hands together before ushering you out of his room while his phone buzzes continuously in the corner.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m about to watch the titanic and cry my eyes out before bed to clear my body of toxins. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jimin waves before closing the door.

When you arrive back downstairs, Taehyung immediately pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on your head. “What was that about?” Taehyung asks as he maneuvers you to lay on his bed so he can cuddle you.

“Apparently you owe Jimin two packs of oreos?”

“I literally ate like two cookies.” Taehyung groans, tucking his face into your neck.

“Well Persephone, looks like you have a debt to pay.”

Part 2 coming soon!

114 notes · View notes

miraculous-rewrite · 5 years

Text

Miraculous Rewrite- Mr Pigeon

So here’s the thing: Mister Pigeon is a good episode in canon, it’s cute and funny and spoofy, but with how the tone for Miraculous Rewrite is going it would need to be... not necessarily more serious, but less... in your face funny. The humor more in the juxtaposition. More Key and Peele than Ed Edd N’ Eddy if you may. So that’s what we’re going for.

Let’s let this be the episode that introduces the Art teacher, there’s no reason why the fashion contest would be presented in Bustier’s class when we can actually flesh out the school a little more. The kids are in art class, all clearly seen doi ng their own projects during this presentation. Marinette and Alya hunched over a dress mannequin, Chloe messing with makeup on a mannequin head, Alix by the spray paint wall and Nathaniel with his sketchbook out and every which way these children express themselves artistically. The art Teacher M. Monet, which is his name until further notice because they didn’t give him a name in-canon yet, standing beside M. Damocles as the presentation goes through.

It’s the same setup, the contest is hosted by Gabriel, ‘our very own Adrien’ will be modelling so you can get his hat size directly from the source, and, of course, it must be a derby. And once again, Marinette dies quietly inside. All eyes have turned to Marinette now that it's revealed to be a design challenge, especially since she’s ACTIVELY designing right now. Chloe notably pouts and turns back to her mannequin.

Next shot is of course, Alya watching Marinette ramble about how she doesn’t like Derbys, she thinks they look dumb and they’re also a pain in the neck to get the brim to look right, she’s going to fail it’s going to look awful and Gabriel Agreste will be so insulted simply by looking at it he’ll ruin her name in the fashion world before she’s even stepped inside. Alya asks to see her sketchbook and they sit facing each other, the sketchbook held between them as Adrien approaches.

He asks what they’re doing, of course, and Alya huffs and says she’s talking some sense into Marinette’s self esteem. Adrien offers to take a peek at her designs and Alya looks to Marinette. Marinette, face flushed, does her first full mess up in how-to-speak, a proper combination of embarrassment, anxiety AND crush related problems, so it’s perfectly reasonable. She wants to say that she’d rather not because her stuff is mostly half abandoned ideas and he’s probably got much higher standards with Gabriel being his father. But it comes out more along the lines of ‘Your father is a fashion snob so you probably are too’ Marinette stumbles to try and correct herself of course, but she’s barely able to get a proper ‘that’s not what I meant’ out before Adrien starts to laugh.

“He really is, isn’t he? You know it might have rubbed off on me, let’s find out if it did together.” He grins at her, and Mari’s face goes red before she eventually hands him her idea book.

Adrien flips through it every so often hearing a short ‘that one was dumb’ or ‘I couldn’t get that one to work’ from Marinette before he hands it back to her. He of course thinks they’re really good. And if she makes hats like how she makes dresses she’s gonna be a shoe in. There’s your Adrinette you heathens.

Gee I wonder if we’ll need to re-make this subplot with Chloe at all? (Answer: yes we do) Chloe and Sabrina have already improved a bit (heck Sabrina’s now got two acquaintances in the form of Rose and Juleka), So I don't think either of them would be particularly keen on the plan Chloe initially had to cheat her way to the top. If anything she continues to be a fashion Snob and says Nothing Marinette does will ever compete with something she could come up with even with only five minutes to work with. Sabrina neither agrees nor disagrees, and says simply that Chloe is much more creative than what people say about her. Cue ‘I know i am… WAIT PEOPLE SAY STUFF ABOUT ME?!’ joke.

As Marinette dashes off to find inspiration, we see Chloe looking at her phone, an expression of pure fear and nervousness on her face, and we see the contact she’s looking at - Maman.

Instead of a POINTLESS pre-akuma even PREPARED TO SEND monologue, we see a Gabriel Agreste at his desk, skimming through perhaps some previous designs from other design contests from the school he’s doing the contest at, and he stops at Marinette’s previous designs, an eyebrow raised at them. Nathalie approaches, asking if he’ll be attending the contest in person.

We get no answer.

We then cut to Marinette in her ‘secret garden’ going through idea after idea (some of which are a lot cooler than what she went with if you ask me, but whatever) and noticing M. Ramier beginning to feed his pigeons. Though this time we’re going less comedy and more sympathy, if only due to Ramier’s distinct parallels toward a certain Pigeon based gentleman of a former popular cartoon. Instead of being shut down by Sabrina’s father (For multiple reasons) instead he’s confronted with a pigeon with a badly damaged wing. His heart breaks for the poor dear and he runs off, using his pigeon whistle to let a small flock of birds trail behind him.

Marinette of course gains inspiration from the grey feathers of the birds and begins to design the iconic derby.

Meanwhile with M. Ramier though, he’s successfully splinted the pigeon’s wing and is wondering out loud about who could have hurt such a precious creature. Was it those callous tourists? Those heartless policemen? What monsters would do such a thing to an innocent being and then walk away?

Such passion mixed with righteous fury of course would be the trigger for an akuma.

Chloe and Sabrina, rather than be in the same area as Marinette, are instead in Chloe’s room at the hotel, Sabrina sitting tensely on the couch, while Chloe walks back and forth, speaking notably in English (or in the english dub, speaking in french) to a voice we cannot hear over the phone. We catch moments of Chloe going “Yes,” “I know,” “I understand,” and “Of course, Maman,” before she finally hangs up, and collapses onto the couch beside Sabrina. Her phone dings, and both girls huddle together to see the images Chloe’s been sent, as we get a side-by-side of Marinette showing off her own design to Tikki.

Marinette of course immediately goes to building her hat, and as in canon had forgotten to grab a pigeon feather and must go back to retrieve it. Which she does quickly, only to, less quickly, run into the Pigeongeddon. Paris belongs to the pigeons now. But since Mr. Pigeon is a little less overtly ridiculous, he’s not dancing around and cooing loudly, that’s just weird. And Insulting to the crazy pigeon man that came before him. In his address to paris he simply stands and walks back and forth, perhaps with a tail of pigeons pantomiming his movements to keep the situation a little lighter. He states that Paris would be nothing without its Avian friends, and those that wish ill to the pigeons here, be they the tourists that thoughtlessly toss rotten bread into the poor dear’s faces, the police officers that will swing their flashlights to and fro to scare them away, uncaring if someone gets hurt, or just one who will refuse to respect those birds that greatly outnumber them. He will put a stop to it all until Paris respects its true inhabitants.

Ladybug and Chat Noir still meet on a rooftop, Chat sneezing from the feathers in the air, but unlike when he has his roll down the rooftop and seems to just stop (was it his claws on his gloves? That feels a bit easy there), we get a moment of Ladybug reaching out to snatch the cat by his wrist and pull him back onto the ledge. And for the sake of an extra laugh, as he fights off a sneeze, everything seems under control, only for him to sneeze mid-sentence.

As in canon it would be a bit of an exercise in futility to try and find this guy when he can clearly summon a whole army of birds to get anywhere, so the next best idea is to have the two of them pose as either of Mr. Pigeons supposed enemies. Chat wearing a Policeman’s hat, and Ladybug with a tourist-ish camera around her neck. Whomever gets picked up first will lead the other right into the mouth of the dragon. Surprising absolutely no one, Chat is snatched up before Ladybug, and after the chase scene shenanigans the two of them are cornered atop of the hotel. However this time, instead of Chat needlessly wasting a Cataclysm on the bars (IT’S SO POINTLESS - Mod Aims), he instead extends his staff downward from a high starting point, shattering the glass beneath their feet and letting the two of them fall to safety and into the (likely there) penthouse pool.

Ladybug immediately goes to the pool’s edge as Mr. Pigeon shouts for his army to lift the cage and go after them, and Chat is quick to join her. She makes a coy comment about how she thought cats don't like water, to which he responds that he’s riverclan. (Warriorcats eyyyyy - Mod Vega) The two of them make their way down to the lobby together. Chloe is clearly fiddling with something on her phone--to the point where she’s not even really acknowledging what’s going on around her--and Sabrina in her stead questions if the two of them could possibly come to visit again after Mr. Pigeon is taken care of, especially since she and Chloe are such big fans. Chat’s preening under the praise, but Andre corners Ladybug and asks if she’s got a plan, as the influx of pigeons could ruin Paris’ reputation. He may end up losing the re-election if anything else happens to the city’s image under his management. Ladybug assures him that they’ll figure something out, they always do.

The action set piece, as is normal at this point, is pretty much solid on its own. We only had one gripe and that was more for what we thought was personally a funnier way to use Chat’s constant allergy situation. When, at the end, Chat has the bird call, but it slips from his grip as he sneezes, Ladybug doesn’t let go of Mr. Pigeon and instead just shoots Chat a dry look. Chat laughs awkwardly, walks over to where the birdcall had gone, and apologizes before crushing it under his heel. Ladybug lets Mr. Pigeon go to purify the Akuma.

When we next cut back to Marinette, she’s finishing up her derby and bringing it to her podium. Doing the very last touch, of sticking the feather into its position. The judging hasn’t begun yet, and Alya spends a short while admiring the design. It looks professionally made too! Pretty cool. But then she looks over to Chloe’s podium and says quietly ‘stiff competition though’ at Marinette’s glance it’s revealed that Chloe has a derby absolutely drenched in gold glitter but otherwise looks pretty damn cool.

Marinette narrows her eyes and wonders aloud if Chloe actually did design it, citing that Chloe’s never been much of a glitter person. But it’s too late, Nathalie walks in with Adrien in tow, and after prodding from M. Damocles, reveals Gabriel Agreste watching via webcam. One by one they go through the entries (though more than just a couple of kids are here for it, some kids from other classes, more kids from our class, it’s a school wide event so let’s make it one.) and when they reach Chloe, she openly boasts about inheriting her mother’s talent for design. Gabriel does note that the glittery hat does resemble something from one of Audrey’s abandoned sketches.

When he reaches Marinette’s though, of course it’s obvious who the winner is. While Chloe’s does look like Audrey’s line, that’s just it, it looks like something Audrey would make. Not what Chloe would make. But this design is clearly reflecting its creator. So in a turn of events, asks Marinette to Elaborate on her design choices

She says specifically that because her designs are completely handmade, she does something that she’s picked up from one of her influences; Audrey Bourgeois as a matter of fact; and says she signed her name in the stitching. Much like how Audrey will often hide messages in her own stitching, typically at the request of her clients, sometimes of her own volition.

Chloe, after a moment flips her own hat over, and sure enough along the ribbon of her own Derby, loud and clear in gold thread, the message ‘cheater’ is revealed to her. Adrien looks confused for a moment and reaches up, as though to touch something on his collarbone that’s not there.

Gabriel announces that Marinette is the winner, and Adrien approaches her hat before jolting and taking a step away “It looks great, but I’m super allergic to feathers!” He rubs his neck and smiles at Marinette “I don’t suppose you could find a fake feather that can look cool like that?”

Marinette smiles, her cheeks a little pink, but she nods. “No problem!” But before she could either continue or let her nerves get the better of her and ruin it, Adrien sneezes loudly.

#Miraculous Rewrite #Mr pigeon rewrite #rewrite #mod vega #miraculous ladybug

25 notes · View notes

daredevile · 5 years

Text

Illuminate [1/5]

Summary: James Barnes, an upcoming artist in Brooklyn lives a routine life. It’s all sunshine and rainbows until you show up at his building, hesitantly becoming his roommate.

Warnings: Not Steve approved language

A/N: Hey guys! It’s my first time writing an AU and this one’s for @ruckystarnes‘s summer of AUs. Nearly had a heart attack when I almost deleted this entire post just after finishing. Also, I apologise if it sucks. Hope you enjoy!

“Hello? Mrs Potts? This is Y/N. I saw an advertisement for your apartment, I would like to have a look if it’s still available,”

And that’s all it took for you to end up in front of a modern building, right in the middle of Brooklyn. Logically, you knew that the rent in this particular area would be sky high, however, desperation got the better of you. Before you knew it, a stylish woman dressed in white greeted you with a warm smile, her unwavering, straight posture resembled one of a businesswoman’s.

“You must be Y/N,” She waited for your assurance, stretching her hand out, “I’m utterly delighted to see you, it’s been ages since James had had a roommate,”

“Roommate? I thought I would be living alone,” Your eyebrows shot up. Sharing an apartment was already not too high on your list, but sharing an apartment with a guy, that was rock bottom.

“Oh no, honey, it’s mentioned on the flyer,” Mrs Potts noticed your hesitation, placing a hand on your shoulder as she guided you to the elevator, “Don’t worry, James is an absolute sweetheart. He’s quite easy on the eyes too,” She winked.

Hope filled your mind, and with Mrs Potts’ descriptions of James, maybe sharing a living space with him won’t be so bad after all. She continued rambling on about the apartment’s amenities, but all that whooshed out your head when you stepped inside the lavish area. The first thing you noticed was the abundance of paintings all across the apartment, some hung on the walls, some placed on the paint-splattered floor. You were completely mesmerised, recognising the classics—Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet—whoever James was, he must be filthy rich to afford all of these.

“James is out of town, he’s returning this evening,” Mrs Potts stated, watching you observe the art, “He’s an aspiring artist, and a great one too. Unfortunately, he hasn’t gotten his big break yet,” Her phone rang interrupting your conversation, “Well, what do you think? I mean, if I had known you were coming earlier, I would have asked him to clea—“

“I’ll take it,” You interrupted, “It’s great, thank you, Mrs Potts,” A wide smile erupted on the woman’s face upon hearing your words. She threw her arms around your shoulders, gleaming.

A couple of tiring hours later, you were done shifting your things into the apartment. Just as you plopped down on the couch with a satisfied sigh, the door burst open, revealing one exasperated James Barnes. He took notice of your presence with a curt nod before turning his attention to his phone.

“Um...hi?” You extended your hand, “I’m Y/N, your new roommate,”

“Hi,” Ignoring your hand, he walked towards his easel, preparing his art supplies.

Annoyed at his lack of communication, you turned your attention towards the masterpieces on the wall, “Did you do these? They’re amazing,” A look of awe displayed on your features as you faced his back.

“Yeah, yeah,”

“It must have taken forever,” You gushed, not paying attention to the phone in his hand.

“Mhmm, one second, Steve” James spun around, blue eyes meeting yours, “Hey sweetheart, I’m on a call, do you mind?” He gestured to his phone, a smirk forming as you blushed in embarrassment. He resumed his phone call, marching his way to his room.

“Ok, first interaction could have gone better,” You muttered under your breath, leaning against the wall. A soft, brown-furred kitten brushed past your feet, leaping on the couch with immense effort. You chuckled at him struggling before pushing his hind paws up, “What have we gotten ourselves into, Milton?” The cat cuddled against your arm, burying his head into your side.

The apartment glowed by the vivid pieces, each sporting its own story. The ones you didn’t recognise, the James Barnes originals, were quite random: a family at the park, a ballerina, a garden of flowers and many more exquisite pieces. Pieces of various sizes adorned by modern frames intricately placed on the walls. You hovered your fingers over one of them, ever so lightly grazing over the dried paint.

“Sorry, let me start again. I’m James Barnes,” His deep yet soft voice shook you out of your thoughts. His bright eyes followed your gaze, watching your fingers trace the texture of the piece, “A perfectionist who gets irritated when people touch his art, so please remove your undeserving fingers from the canvas,” The words quickly flowed out his mouth, piercing cerulean eyes observing your movement.

“Also, I’m not a big fan of crowds, so no parties, no loud, uncultured music, and,” He paused, focus shifting to the small creature, who was poking the plushy cushions on the couch, “No pets,”

“Excuse me? I’m paying half the rent. Milton isn’t going anywhere,” You retorted, frustration seeping through your body. You weren’t about to let a second-rate douchebag boss you around in your own house. You moved away, leaning against the paint splattered counter.

“Listen, sweetheart,” He stepped dangerously close to your form, a firm expression on his face as he spoke, “I’m the boss here. You either listen or beat it,” He placed his hand on the counter behind you, trapping your body between the table and himself. Your breath hitched at his proximity, he leaned closer, his nose millimetres from yours. In one quick motion, he swiped the coffee cup placed behind you and dashed into his room.

The cool Brooklyn breeze along with a perfectly made hot chocolate topped with mini marshmallows were the elements present that evening. James had requested absolute silence while he worked on his pieces, so you decided to hit the nearest coffee shop for a relaxing time with your friends.

“So, is she nice? Bitchy?” Natasha asked, sipping on her tea. She leaned against the velvet couch, perching her legs on the wooden table, “You better not ditch us for her,” She nudged Wanda’s shoulder, laughing at the immediate drop of your smile.

“Well, he is a jerk,” It was your turn to laugh at their awestruck faces, Wanda gasped in disbelief while Natasha snorted, “And don’t worry, I’m never ditching you guys,”

“No way! You’re living with a guy!” Natasha exclaimed, “Damn Y/N, never would have thought,” She clapped her hands.

“Don’t get excited, he’s just like the rest of them. Possessive, bossy and not to mention incredibly annoying,” You rolled your eyes, Wanda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Come on, you just met him today, I’m sure he’ll warm up in no time,” She sent a warm smile, hiding her laughter behind her mug.

“Yeah, and soon enough, we’ll be crying at your wedding,” Natasha added, dodging away from the cushions you were throwing at her, “Would it be a summer one? No, you seem like the winter type,”

You nearly spat out your hot chocolate at her remark, “What! Never,” You exclaimed, “He’s already on my hate list. And he doesn’t like pets. Come on, that’s already a red flag,” You defended, glaring at the two of them and their shit-eating grins, “And, for your information, I am the winter type,”

“Girl, I already know what’s gonna happen. Don’t you watch movies?” Natasha stated as a matter-of-fact, a mischevious glint in her green eyes.

“No, James isn’t that kinda guy,” You shook your head, scoffing at the mere thought of a cheesy, romantic relationship forming between the two of you.

“Then what kinda guy is he?” Wanda inquired, watching your demeanour slightly shift with your thoughts.

“The one that’s a pain in your ass,”

Milton shuffled across your lap, tiny paws carefully treading on the soft furs of the couch. His quiet meows resonated through the apartment, you watched his actions closely. Moving in with James did not take off in the direction as you would have hoped, nevertheless, you had no choice. Putting up with his demanding attitude would be a small price to pay until you found another place. Slowly, your eyelids began to droop, feeling heavy due to today’s tiresome events. A few minutes after sleep had conquered your mind, a loud ring echoed from the kitchen.

“Fucking hell,” You muttered, rubbing your eyes in frustration. The noise was coming from James’ phone, one that he had conveniently left behind. Just as you were about to answer, it went to voicemail.

“Hey, Buck. Lara came, she dropped off a box of your stuff. I’ll swing by tomorrow morning, alright?” A masculine voice spoke, you caught the underlying tone of pity weaved into it.

“Buck?” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you stared at his phone, curious.

“Is that my phone?” The sudden voice broke the silence that filled the air, making you jump. James leaned against the wall with an amused smile, placing his sketchbook on the counter.

You blinked at him, trying to form a reasonable excuse, “No...I mean yes, but I wasn’t going through it. You got a call, so I picked it up, it went to voicemail and I listened to it and you came,” You blurted, moving away from his phone.

A smile tugged on his lips at your rambling, “Ok stalker,” He smirked as you scoffed. To his surprise, the kitten gently brushed past his legs, James scowled before looking back at you, “Thought I said no pets,”

“Thought I said he’s staying,” You retorted, yearning to wipe that stupid smirk off his perfect face.

“Actually, you said, ‘Milton isn’t going anywhere’,” He playfully crossed his arms, horribly mimicking your voice.

“First, I do not sound like that,” You stomped your foot, attempting to hide the tiny tug of your lips, “Second, you’re an asshole,”

James immediately held his hand on his chest, “Oh sweetheart, that struck my heart and here I thought we were becoming friends,” He feigned hurt, blue eyes burning into yours as he burst out into laughter. You rolled your eyes, walking away to avoid looking at his charming smile.

To be continued...

#rae's au summer #rssummerofaus #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #bucky series #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu

40 notes · View notes

13-reasons-ideas · 4 years

Text

Marry Me

A/N: I decided to take a stab at doing a songfic. It is MontyxOC and I hope you guy’s like it. I based it off of Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me. This part is from the bride’s perspective. For this part, I recommend listening to the bride’s perspective linked below. There will be another part from Monty’s perspective coming soon. This is a long one. I hope you like it as much as I do. As always, much love. Word Count: 7963

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqxEYUcW-cU

My fiancé, Evan, and I finally made it to San Fran International Airport, after a long day of traveling from Atlanta. I managed to get some more wedding planning done on the plane from Dallas. My parents were throwing us a second engagement party at home, so we made the trip out early on after he popped the question. Once we had left baggage claim with our bags, I led him through the airport to pickups.

He insisted on holding the bags while I looked for Scott. My parents weren’t able to get off work, so he had kindly offered to pick us up in San Francisco. I searched the crowd and spotted him standing off to the side, near a vending machine. “Scott!” I called as I waved and broke into a run towards him. He caught me in his arms and twirled me around.

“There she is.” He muttered into my hair as he put me down. I felt Evan put his hand on my back and I leaned into him. “You must be the one who stole her heart. I’m Scott.” He said, sticking his hand out.

“Evan.” He replied, shaking his hand firmly.

“So, let’s see the ring.” I smiled brightly at him and showed him my round two carat pave ring. He whistled when he saw it. “That’s nice. It suits you. Did she pick it?”

“No, I looked at her Pinterest.”

“Smart man.” Scott said as he picked up my bag and walked us out to the car, Evan’s hand firmly in mine the whole time.

On the way back into town, Scott shared stories of all the trouble I used to get my friends in and out of in high school. “There was this one time none of us had studied for a midterm coming up and so Ellie here called us all over to her place, and sat us down with colour coded notes, charts, the whole thing and spent the whole weekend tutoring us.”

“Only because you all had to pass that exam to stay on the team.” I interjected.

“El, it’s not like they would have kicked the whole team off the team. We were all pretty antsy by the end of the weekend.”

“But they could have cancelled the rest of your season. How happy would you have been then, hmmm?”

“Fine, fine. You win. But what about that time Monty and Bryce decided to climb in that old treehouse in Bryce’s backyard and you had to call the fire department?”

“You mean the time they almost fell out a tree? Yeah, I remember that. I also remember not speaking to either of them for like three days afterwards.”

“Oh, don’t think I forgot that detail. Monty wouldn’t shut up about it until you finally talked to him again.”

“Not my fault genius one and genius two climbed into a treehouse they hadn’t been in since they were like eighty pounds lighter. Bryce cried, Scott.”

“You didn’t talk to them because they went in a treehouse?” Evan asked.

“No babe. I didn’t talk to them because they got stuck in a treehouse. And I couldn’t climb up there to save their genius butts because any more weight would have sent the whole thing tumbling to the ground. And then Coach would have had my ass for breaking them.”

“I’m guessing there was alcohol involved in these shenanigans?”

“Oh yes.” Scott laughed, “they were drunk off their asses. Monty hugged one of the firefighters.”

“Ellie mentioned something about him not being a hugger.”

“He isn’t. Took him like 4 years to hug me. And I’m his best friend. We had food poisoning together when we were younger, and he still wouldn’t do it.” I shuddered at the memory.

“Lovely.”

“Yeah, but anywho. They barely made it into the pool house before they passed out.”

“We don’t call her Mom for nothing.”

“Okay designated Dad friend.”

“At least when we hung out after homecoming we didn’t-” Scott started. My eyes widened. Are you serious Scott?!

“Trip and fall flat on our faces in front of the whole school?” I cut him off quickly.

He gave me a weird look in the rear view. Thankfully, Evan was looking out the window as we were getting closer to town. I gave him a what the fuck look back. “Uh, yeah. That was pretty funny actually. Matt and Garrison were so excited we won that they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted.”

Evan didn’t appear to be listening anymore. Scott drove the rest of the way and when we got into town, I texted Monty. Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

He texted me back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

“Don’t worry about showing him the noteworthy spots. We are going to look around after church on Sunday.” I mentioned to Scott, not looking up from my phone. I replied to Montgomery swiftly, drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear. I smiled affectionately at the nickname and put my phone away. Scott had pulled up in front of my parent’s house.

“See you tomorrow Scotty.” I told him, reaching around the driver’s seat to rub his hair.

“El, not the hair. I’ll see you. It was nice meeting you Evan.”

“You too, Scott. Have a good night.”

The door opened as soon as we set foot on the front walk and my mom poked her head out. “Hey Mom. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, come here and let me look at you.” She cooed, pulling and prodding me to get a good look.

“Mom, relax. I haven’t changed that much since the last time I saw you.”

“Hello Mrs. Davis. How are you?” Evan asked her as he pulled me closer to him to stop her examining.

“I’m lovely dear. Robert set up the guest room for you. Ellie, you’ll be in your own room.”

“I know Mom. Wasn’t expecting anything less.”

As we walked into the living room, dad looked up from his newspaper, “hey sweetheart, Evan.” “Mr. Davis.” Evan greeted and shook his hand firmly.

“Now now, what have we told you? You will be family soon enough. It’s Robert or Dad.”

“And Jillian or Mom.” My mom added.

“I know. Habit.”

“Well Ellie-muffin, what did you want to do tonight for your first night back in town?”

“I thought you had to talk to Evan about stuff. And I understood from mom that I wasn’t supposed to be there. So, I kind of already made plans….”

“That’s right. I told you about it last week Rob. We have to go over stuff for tomorrow.”

Dad thought for a moment, trying to remember the conversation, “that’s right. Sorry Jill, I’ve been busy with work and stuff that it must have slipped my mind.”

“What are you doing tonight, beautiful?”

“Just going to get a coffee with Monty now that I’m back in town.” I told him, casually. It’s just coffee and catching up with a friend.

“That sounds like fun. Let him know I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow.”

“I will. I’m going to run upstairs and change. You guys have fun down here.”

“What about dinner, Ellie?”

“It’s okay mom, I’ll just grab some soup or something at Monet’s.”

At about twenty to six, I decided to head out. I chose a cute, casual ensemble. I had thrown on one of Monty’s old baseball shirts, that I stole in the ninth grade or something with some jeans and sneakers. It was comfortable and he never asked for it back, so I kept it. Sometimes I wore it to run errands or when I was running late to class in college. “Bye guys. Love you Evan.” I called from the door. My family had holed themselves up in my dad’s office to talk about the party tomorrow, and I had strict instructions not to disturb them. I heard a chorus of ‘bye’s from the house as I left.

I beat Monty to the café but that wasn’t surprising really since I had left so early.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?”

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I heard Monty say behind me. The barista looked at me, unsure if she should ring it in or not. I nodded at her and turned around to face him. Before he had a chance to say anything, I jumped into his arms for a hug. I did manage to salvage some dignity and not screech in his ear.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said after grunting from the impact.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” I told him, scandalously.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” I paused. You. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.” I’ll just leave out that Peter was the professor.

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.”

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” I replied, sarcastically. When I reached for my cup, he reached for his, and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“In order for it to be a nail biter, our team would actually have to have a chance at winning.” Alex muttered to Clay and me.

“They are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I told him, as I adjusted my bag on our walk from Alex’s locker to mine, where Zach was meeting me before chemistry.

“Maybe they got good over the summer. Didn’t Bryce spend the summer in Greece or something? Relaxing and drinking poolside?”

“I think it was somewhere in Italy, actually.”

“Either way, I don’t think he spent his summer bulking up and practicing for the season.”

“I mean, they have Monty.”

“And? What did he spend his summer doing Ellie?”

“When I wasn’t at camp, we spent the summer together. There was no poolside drinking. When I was at camp he hung out with Scott and did boy stuff. They also worked out a lot.”

“How was camp by the way?” Clay asked.

“It was good. Learned a lot from my campers. They learned a lot from me. Only one incident of blood. It was pretty good.”

We had made it to my locker, and I was arranging my books when I felt myself being pulled into someone’s arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” I laughed, feeling my whole body shake.

“Never.” He laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach’s voice drifted over to me, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Monty replied, putting me down and shaking his head. I turned my attention back to my other friends.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

Lunch seemed to take forever and a half to arrive. I knew sleeping in would mess with my day. The guys were already at their usual table when I arrived and sat next to Monty, no closer than we usually did. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table. I only rolled my eyes in response.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” Monty told him. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at him.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I didn’t have to look up from my lunch to know he was sporting a displeased face. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I made a show of getting myself ready to pray verbally, but not with intention, “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.”

The boys laughed hysterically around me as I smirked at Bryce.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” I offered but knew he would decline.

I ran home to change after school for the game. “Mom, have you seen my baseball shirt?” I called, searching my room for Monty’s shirt.

“The last I saw it, it was on your dresser.” I dug around on my dresser for a bit until I found it.

“Thanks Mom.” I called, shrugging it on. I quickly fixed my hair and grabbed a sweater before bolting back out the door to meet Alex before the game.

I met him in the school parking lot, at about six. “Hey Lex.”

“Hey El. Clay should be here soon and we can go find a seat.”

“That’s good.” We made small talk for a few minutes before Clay pulled up in one of the Priuses. Pri-i?

“Hey guys. Ready to go watch us get our asses handed to us on the field?”

“Your brother is playing Clay. Have a little faith.”

“I guess you’re right. I can’t say he isn’t a good player. But even still. Justin and Monty can’t carry the whole team all night.”

“Scott and Charlie help. Zach is good.”

“Oh goody. Five of forty-seven players are good. That makes me feel so much prouder of them.” Alex joked as we found a decent seat in the middle of the stands at the beginning of the row.

“Well, just think, if we do win tonight, then the team will be too busy celebrating to give anyone a hard time for a few days.”

“Now that you mention celebrating Ellie, if they win are you going to go with Monty after the game?” Clay asked

“I told him I would meet him at Monet’s with the rest of them whether we win or lose.”

“Okay. Can you keep an eye on Justin? I don’t really feel like going out with the football team for the evening.”

“No problem. Is everything alright?”

“I think he’s just trying to figure out where he fits now that he’s doing better and on the team. I don’t think he thought he would get this far.”

“That’s fair. I’ll make sure he sits with us for a bit. See if I can make Monty play nice.”

“See if you can? Ellie. He would jump off a cliff if you asked him to. I don’t like him, but I know he likes you.” Alex argued. Likes me? I mean sure, as his friend. Right? I brushed off the thoughts and where they could lead and have occasionally led in the past.

“He doesn’t really like heights. But I guess you’re right. He’s my best friend.”

“Sure. Best friend.” Alex said, shaking his head. I watched him share a look with Clay.

“I’m going to go grab a water, you guys want anything?”

“No, I’m good thanks.” Clay said, his eyes scanning the crowd of arriving students, likely for Ani.

“Nah. Mom sent me with some kind of weird protein thing. It doesn’t taste half bad, so I’ll just have that.” Alex said, shaking a bottle. I nodded and ran down the bleachers to the concession.

After getting a bottle of cold water, I ran back up just before the game started. The teams had just gotten on the field and had lined up. As expected, the game was in our favour most of the first half. I waved at Monty occasionally when he was on the sidelines and he looked over at me. He smiled and waved back. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting. It wasn’t really much of a nail biter as Principal Bolan had promised this morning, but it wasn’t really boring either. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would probably win. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating. As the team filtered off the field, students began leaving. “See you Monday Ellie.” Alex said as we hugged goodbye.

“See you. Have a good weekend guys. I have to go catch up with Monty.”

I spotted him waiting for me by the locker room, gym bag on his shoulder. “Good game.” I said as I walked up to him.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.”

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.”

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

He sighed and was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” Monty called back to him. Bryce waved him off and walked away, leaving us alone.

He turned his back to me, “hop on”, he told me as he bent down slightly. Once I was secure against his body, he began to walk us out to the parking lot. Because he wasn’t paying attention, it was the perfect time to steal his hat. Plucking it off his head, I placed it on mine. It was slightly too big, but I didn’t mind.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.”

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.” I smirked.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

He laughed as we arrived at our cars and he set me down. “No, you wouldn’t.” He shook his head for emphasis, calling my bluff. I pushed him lightly and rolled my eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.”

True to my word, I arrived at Monet’s a few minutes later, Monty’s hat placed firmly on my head. The place was packed with students celebrating the win. I went to the counter and greeted Skye, placing our usual orders and adding whatever Justin usually got. Once placed, I turned to look for a table. Luckily most students knew where Montgomery and I sat so our table was clear. Making a couple of trips, I placed the drinks on the table and pulled out my phone. I texted Justin quickly, hey Justin. I grabbed you a coffee. Feel free to sit with Monty and I when you get here. Don’t worry, he agreed to be nice. He replied with a thumbs up. The sound of a chair scraping the floor next to me startled me. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.” I spoke regally, swiveling my head to show him from multiple angles.

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Monty and I chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He said, standing slightly awkwardly to the side of the table.

“Justin! You made it.” I exclaimed, smiling. Monty shot me a tone it down look. He smiled back at me as I stood and moved next to Monty. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” He charmed, patting the chair next to me. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach when he called me sweetheart, before sitting down.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin told me, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. Monty was nice to Justin and even laughed a few times at one thing or another he said.

Somewhere along the line of our conversation, our hands drifted towards each other under the table. I felt his hand wrap around mine and I felt my cheeks flame. The flutters were back, and I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He acted like he hadn’t noticed that we were holding hands. “Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called over to our table. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin waved to him and stood up, taking his coffee with him. I wonder if he noticed we are holding hands. Maybe he’s leaving us alone for a reason. Maybe….

“And then there were two.” Monty spoke, pulling me from my thoughts before they could go any further.

“Then there were two.” I echoed.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.”

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?”

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” I flirted slightly, moving my hair behind my ear.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” He flirted back, leaning in slightly. Oh my goodness. He’s going to kiss me. My thoughts immediately began flashing forward at a rapid pace. Us going for innocent coffee dates. Introducing him to dad as my boyfriend. The possibility of church on Sundays. Introducing him to Pastor Mike. Our first fight. Making up from said fight. Getting accepted to the same college. Graduation. College. A ring. Coming home and getting married in the little white church just out of town. Marriage. Kids. Sitting on our porch when we are old and grey. Before he could kiss me, Bryce called him from across the room. He stopped just short of my lips and looked over at him, “what?”

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. Monty nodded in response and turned back to me. I was smiling at him, trying to hide the fact that I was mildly hurt he stopped short of kissing me. Or that I was annoyed that my mind had gone so far once again. I chuckled and took a drink of my coffee. I looked at my watch and saw that even though it wasn’t necessarily late late, it was late enough that I could get away with leaving on account of the time.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I said, getting up and grabbing my bag.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?”

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” I said, trying to keep the hurried tone out of my voice. I just want to get out of here. I took my cup back to the counter and made my way to the door, trying to keep an even pace. I didn’t look back as I left the café.

End Flashback

Shaking the memory from my mind, I pried some more. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

“Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.”

“Exactly.” He laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

He looked surprised at me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.”

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don’t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” I said squeezing him in a hug. When we pulled apart he looked down at me, seeming to finally notice my shirt.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” I offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” I smiled at him in response before he hugged me again and we said goodbye.

The next morning was somewhat hectic in the Davis household. My mom was up at a time God himself would shake his head at, doing last minute cleaning. My dad was up shortly after, making sure the yard hadn’t disappeared overnight or something. I woke up around ten and before I could even get a sip of coffee in me, I was already being bombarded with questions about what I was wearing or how I was doing my hair by my mom. Jeez Louise, if the engagement party is like this, what will the wedding day be like? “I have a white dress with flowers I was going to wear. It’s strapless and cute. Dressy enough for a party.”

“Strapless?”

“Yes Mom. It is strapless. I brought a cardigan to wear with it before you have a coronary.”

“Well I suppose that is alright then. And your hair?”

“A simple curled high ponytail. I have an elastic with a bow on it to use. I have thought about this you know.”

“I know dear. It’s just all so exciting, isn’t it? My only daughter is getting married.”

“Very exciting, yes.” I grumbled. “Now will you please let me go get a cup of coffee?”

“Can’t that wait darling? We have so much to do.”

“She will be much more of a help after a coffee Jillian.” Evan spoke from the hall upstairs. “Give her a few minutes to wake up and she will be ready to go, won’t you El?”

“Yes, I will.” I replied, moving towards the kitchen in search of the rich black liquid. Evan came down and grabbed the milk from the fridge to steam for my latte. “Thank you, I appreciate that you did that.” I whispered to him, gratefully.

“Of course, Buttercup.” He muttered into the top of my head and measuring out the perfect amount of milk into the pitcher, before half emptying a packet of Splenda into my mug. I set to work grinding and packing the espresso powder. I enjoyed my latte over my Bible while Evan got ready for the day’s events.

Shortly after I had gotten dressed, the caterers arrived, and it became even more hectic. They were finishing various dishes and trying to make room in the fridge. I watched on from the sidelines and tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. Evan came over to me and placed his arm around my waist. “You look beautiful.”

“You look great too, handsome.” I blushed, placing my arm around his waist too. Finally, around 2:30, the caterers had finished all of the food and set up. Cupcakes had been delivered and were set out on cake stands. Balloons were up and fairy lights lined the crown moulding around the living room. The room looked perfect.

Guests began arriving just before three. Justin and his girlfriend Sasha were the first to arrive. Justin and Jessica had broken up halfway through their first year of college, the strain of long distance becoming too much for them. They were still amicable in social situations though.

“Hey Justin. Hello Sasha. How are you guys?” I greeted them, warmly.

“We are good.” Justin replied, his hand firmly placed in hers.

“Hey guys.” Evan greeted them. The pair waved in acknowledgement.

“Let’s see the ring Ellie.” Sasha gushed. I held out my hand while she examined and fawned over the ring. I caught Evan and Justin share a look. Oh boy. This could get interesting for the man.

We continued greeting guests, accepting congratulations and gifts, and smiling as they arrived. Monty showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” I greeted, beaming at him.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said, pulling me into a quick hug. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. I pulled away and turned towards Evan.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” I motioned. They shook hands.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” Monty replied, almost whistfully.

My mom called me over and I decided it would be a good idea to perhaps not leave the boys alone together. “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes.” I said, pointing him out. “Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

Monty laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.”

I watched as he walked over and greeted Scott, taking a glass of champagne and a cupcake for himself. My mom called me over again and I ran over to see what she wanted. The party went off without a hitch. The only thing that concerned me was the way my eyes sought out Montgomery all afternoon and not my fiancé. Not to mention the all too familiar fluttering in my belly whenever I was near him or made eye contact with him.

The day had finally arrived. After a year of meticulous planning, it was finally my wedding day. All of the stress and details and late-night crying had all led up to this one day. The church was beginning to fill with guests. The loving memory sign was placed near the altar. I thought of how my granddad would have been the one to preach the service if he was still with us when I decided on the placement. My bridesmaids had already left the room to line up to walk down the aisle. Evan would be at the altar by now. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

My off-white wedding dress was on, my veil in place on my head, and my makeup and hair looked flawless. Everything was perfect. Almost everything. I shook in the bridal room, waiting for the planner to call for me. You can do this Ellie. I fiddled with my engagement ring for a moment before I heard Melissa knock on the door, “we are ready for you Ellie.” Forcing a big smile on my face, I nodded to her and walked out of the room where my dad was waiting to walk me down the aisle.

“You look beautiful sweetheart.” He told me as I handed him my engagement ring for safe keeping and took his arm. The chapel doors opened, and Evan turned to look at me from the altar. I could tell his eyes were wet with unshed tears and when he saw me, he covered his mouth and looked up, trying to hold the tears back. The crowd was standing watching our reactions. My bridesmaids smiles beamed from the altar, brightly. I trained my eyes on him as my dad walked me down the aisle. My dad gave me to Evan and Pastor Mike began the service.

“We are gathered here today, before God and those closest to Ellie and Evan to join them in in celebrating their love and commitment to one another.” He continued speaking, “when Ellie called me to announce her engagement, I was thrilled for her. By the time they got around to coming back to Evergreen County from their home in Atlanta, and they asked me to officiate, I knew my answer would be a resounding yes. Getting to know Evan and see these two together over the last number of months, has opened my eyes to how these two help each other in their journey to seek to know and have a relationship with the Lord. Ellie mentioned early on in planning to me, that her favourite verse in the Bible is 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 and expressed the importance of including it on this special day. I would like to read you that verse now. 4 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5 or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6 It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

8 Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages[a] and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!”

Pastor Mike continued speaking, but my eyes had begun to scan the crowd. They swept from one side of the church to the other. Near the back on the right side, next to the door, I spotted some of my friends. I saw Scott and Justin, along with Sasha, sitting with Charlie and Zach. Bryce surprised me and RSVP’d yes, even if part of me knew he knew I only invited him out of politeness. He was sitting next to Charlie, sandwiched next to Clay and Alex. As my eyes continued to scan the room, I didn’t see him. When they landed on Scott and I maintained eye contact for a moment, he shrugged, and frowned slightly. He isn’t here. He didn’t come. Tears filled my eyes and I turned back to Evan, my hand still resting in his. I made sure to smile so it appeared that I was merely overwhelmed with joy and not feeling my heart be crushed with despair. “Evan Andrew Taylor, do you take Ellie Marie Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

“I do.” Evan replied, wholeheartedly.

“And do you Ellie Marie Davis, take Evan Andrew Taylor to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

I took on last look at the crowd gathered around us and made eye contact with Scott before turning back to Evan, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I spoke quietly, letting go of his hand. I looked back at Scott and nodded to him. He turned to Justin and Zach, as the crowd gasped. I stepped down from the altar and it seemed to kick my friend’s butts into gear.

“Shi-” Scott started before realizing he was in a church. “Shoot.” He amended, quickly. He stood up and met me at the end of the aisle as my friends joined me in running out of the church. To our surprise, Bryce tossed Scott his keys and Zach picked me up to carry me to the car. “Zach drives.” He said, giving me a thumbs up.

We were in Bryce’s car before Scott spoke again, “did that really just happen?”

“Yeah. Yeah it did.” I was still in shock.

“Why?” Justin asked as we drove away from the church.

“He wasn’t there.” I said simply, staring out the window. “I couldn’t marry Evan knowing that I was in love with someone else. I couldn’t stand up there and say I do to him when I was praying for someone to stand up and object. Or to be up there with me instead.”

The boys were silent for a while as we drove around. Scott was in the front, looking for Montgomery’s car in every lot we passed. Justin was holding my hand tightly, trying his best to soothe me.

“You should know that he was. There.” Zach advised, “he wanted to be, but he couldn’t mess things up for you and he couldn’t sit and watch you get married to someone that wasn’t him.”

I didn’t respond, I merely tried to absorb the information I was being given. He was there. Why didn’t he come and tell me anything? Why didn’t he mess things up? I was pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrated, alerting me I had a text. It was from Bryce. Monet’s. Your table. I never thought I would see the day where I would honestly thank Bryce Walker and mean it once, let alone twice. “He’s at Monet’s.”

“How do you know?” Zach asked, glancing in the rear view to make a lane change and turn us around.

“Surprisingly, Bryce.” I watched as my friend’s brows all raised. They couldn’t believe it either.

I was silent as Zach drove the rest of the way and parked across the street from the coffee shop. I scanned the building quickly, searching for any sign of him. I spotted him in the window, at our table, just like Bryce had said. Monet’s had become licensed a couple of years back, so they could serve alcohol. Monty was sitting alone, in his black suit, nursing what appeared to be a tall bourbon, neat. “Go get him El.” Scott encouraged me. I nodded and checked for traffic before opening the door and stepping out of the car. Damning laws at this point, since the street was clear, I half ran across and yanked open the door. The few patrons and baristas looked up and appeared slightly annoyed at the sudden, rude intrusion, before they took note of my attire. White dress, veil, hair and makeup applied. It became clear that I was here on a mission and it wasn’t only coffee or a quick shot of liquid courage. Picking up my dress slightly so I didn’t trip on the stairs, I walked over to his table. “Is this seat taken?” I asked, softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes widening in surprise and full of unspoken questions.

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

He scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from his glass, not looking at me.

“Hey,” I started, reaching for his hand. He looked at my hand and after a pause let me take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

I was quiet while I thought over how to explain my feelings. Noticing he had about fingers width of bourbon left in his glass, I grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” He protested. That was all the courage I needed.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” I told him while I stared into the bottom of the now empty glass, too afraid to look him in the eye.

“You- really? How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.”

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn’t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

He chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

I furrowed my brow at him, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?”

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When he didn’t say anything I added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.”

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” I told him, sighing dramatically.

He looked at me through his impossibly long eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” I rolled my eyes and stood up to go order him another shot. You owe me another shot… men. I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist to stop me, before pulling me into his lap, rather gracefully given the fit of my dress, and kissing me deeply. Monty pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other.

“How about that shot now?” Monty smirked.

#monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #Marry Me #thomas rhett #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #scott reed #Alex Standall #clay jensen #justin foley jensen #zach dempsey #charlie st. george #Bryce Walker #original character #scheduled

42 notes · View notes