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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

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So I wrote a one shot. I watched the film 10 Years a few days ago and it inspired me to write a Star Wars version 🤣 it just focuses on Poe though let’s face it. This is me after all! Poe Dameron lover forever! I didn’t even name it anything interesting.

Yavin High Reunion.

Modern!Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Warnings: mention of divorce, mention of a child, angst! Fluff, smut NSFW 18+, alcohol, did I mention angst? Swearing and possibly a happy ending 👀 Apologises for any mistakes I cannot be bothered to reread it.

Word Count: 7759

You straightened your dress as you got out of the cab, passing money to the driver before turning to look down the high street of your old town. The sky was dark and the shops you had haunted most of your youth were lit by the garish orange street lamps, you smiled slightly as echoes of memories came to you. You had lived in this high street, spending holidays, or a few hours here and there after school, you could always be found here with your friends. But this was the first time you’d seen it since you left when you were 18.

You were late with everyone inside already, just the way you wanted. You placed a hand on your stomach as you breathed deeply trying to control the butterflies that fluttered manically inside you. As soon as High School had finished you left, the only person you really stayed in touch with was your best friend Jess. She had kept you up to date with what everyone else in your group of friends had been doing and you went through stages of missing them, longing for the summer days where you all hung out at the beach, eating picnics, barbecues and getting drunk as the sun finally set.

You closed your eyes briefly before turning to look at the hotel where the reunion was taking place. The grey bricks gave the impression it was a lot fancier than it looked but this hotel hadn’t changed on the outside at all. Music and laughter floated out of the open windows above you and again your stomach cramped nervously. Your last year at school had been a difficult one and you were ashamed with how you dealt with what happened….Jess had said he was coming and really he was the only reason you had come. Steeling yourself you finally took the last steps towards the entrance of the hotel pushing the door open and letting the warm air wash over you.

The foyer was empty, you wrote your name on a sticker and placed it gently on your dress, you could see some class mates had scribbled in the memory book already and you smiled slightly as you read it realising that no one had really grown up in 10 years. Stands displaying photos stood behind the desk and you made a note to come and look at those later. You saw a camera but no camera man and you wondered if that was better, you were leaving straight after this anyway. Your heels rang out on the stairs as you made your way towards the noise of the reunion.

As soon as you opened the door you felt overwhelmed, the beat from the music thrummed through you and you instantly headed towards the bar ordering a double gin and tonic to calm your nerves. You surveyed your surroundings, it had been decorated with the school colours and you winced at the mix of orange, white, red and black realising how much you hated the colours together. You took your glass as your eyes searched the crowd trying to find a face you recognised, well you knew most of them, older but you knew them as they danced smiling at one another. You spied another room and you hoped there was food in that one, you made your way round the edge of the room quickly slipping into the larger room. This room was quieter, long tables laid out with hot plates of food and round tables that were littered with little pockets of people as they caught up.

Some double doors lead outside onto a balcony and you saw the crowd standing out there, you’d never really mixed with them at school but one caught your attention. From where you were standing you could see him perfectly as he lounged on the sofa, his long legs taking up so much room, he looked smart in his suit his long dark hair hadn’t changed in the passing years but he had a serious look on his expression, gone were smiles he used to have at school. You froze as his hazel eyes caught sight of you and he tipped his head slightly in recognition. Kylo Ren had been the one you turned to all those years ago, he had been the one to drive you to the airport even giving you money and helping you get a job so you could flee. You thought about going over but then the blonde head of Phasma came into view as she laid herself all over him and you quickly moved out of sight. Not much had changed in 10 years at all. You felt sad and you debated leaving as you lost your appetite when all of a sudden you were grabbed. You grinned as her dark hair fell all over your face and she squealed loudly in your ear making you grimace in pain .

‘Jess! Ouch!’

‘Oh my god you came!!’ She almost screamed at you .

‘Yes yes! I told you I would!’ She grabbed you for another hug and you squeezed her back, oh how you had missed her! Video calls had nothing on giving your friend a solid hug in person. ‘Where is everyone else?’ You heard yourself ask and she smirked knowing you weren’t really bothered about everyone else. You just wanted to see him.

‘There’s another room, this one has desserts in so clearly we camped in there,’ she winked and you smiled back but your stomach just went into overdrive as she led you back into the bar and across the dance floor. Of course they were in the dessert room, he had such a sweet tooth. You saw them straight away and a wave of people rose to greet you, Finn was first lifting you off the floor as he squeezed the air out of your chest, then Rose and her sister Paige.

‘Aren’t you too old to be here?’ You whispered to her and she laughed.

‘I snuck in no one saw me,’ she winked and let Snap spin you into a dizzying embrace, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before letting your feet touch the floor again. Next you were embraced by his wife Kare, followed by the clowns of the group Beaumont and Ronith. The group parted as they all sat back down and your breath was taken from you as you laid eyes on the love of your life for the first time in so long. Everything melted away as his intense brown eyes blazed into yours, his curls a dark unruly mess on top of his head and you saw he still wore his Dad’s leather jacket; it just fitted him now, perfectly. He rested one leg on his knee, one of his arms was draped over an empty chair and he didn’t get up to greet you. You swallowed plastering a smile on your face and you felt eternally grateful to Jess as she dragged you over the tables to look at the cakes. But you couldn’t see them, your vision swam and you tried desperately to compose yourself.

‘Well, that was intense,’ Jess mumbled as she passed you a plate. You jumped slightly as you heard his rich laugh rise up from the group, you didn’t know you were going to feel this so strongly, the guilt ripped through you and now you really wished you hadn’t come.

‘He hates me,’ you whispered mindlessly spooning some chocolate cake onto your plate.

‘He doesn’t…’

‘Well he should,’ you snapped softly. You slowly walked back to the table with her heading for the empty chair next to Snap but Jess was just a step ahead of you leaving the only chair available was the one Poe had his arm thrown possessively over.

‘C-can I sit here?’ You were acutely aware the group was watching you both as they talked extra loudly trying to cover up the tension. He moved his arm and you slipped into the chair moving it into the table and slightly away from him. You were immediately pulled into the conversation as Beaumont started recounting some funny drunk story and finally you felt yourself relax but only slightly. Your skin tingled every time he spoke or joined it but it was never directly to you and you desperately tried to ignore that.

‘Oh god and then there was prom!’ Ronith blurted out and you instantly felt Poe tense up. A buzzing noise started in your ears as everything drained away, the memory replaying like it was yesterday in your mind.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair looked amazing, your makeup was perfect and your dress was stunning hugging you in all the right places. You looked up at the knock on the door and you knew it was Poe, you bit your lip as you stood at the top of the stairs, your Dad letting him in. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but you didn’t care as Poe caught sight of you. His jaw went slack and his brown eyes widened as he swallowed nervously, your eyes raked over his outfit and his navy suit matched your dress perfectly. You slowly made your way down your hand dragging lightly on the banister until he stepped round your Dad a lopsided smile now spreading over his face as he offered you his arm.

‘You look stunning my love,’ he murmured before shooting a nervous glance at your Dad.

‘The limo is here!’ Called your mum and you both stepped outside, your parents took so many photos you tried to hurry them up but Poe was loving it. His eyes barely left you and neither did his hands, until the glare of blue lights chased away the descending darkness. You all frowned as an officer got out of the car along with Poe’s father, you knew something was instantly wrong by the look on Kes’s face.

‘Can we talk inside?’ The officer asked and your parents ushered you all inside. You had sat next to Poe holding his hand when they broke the news to him that his mother had died in a car crash, she was driving back from work hoping to catch him before he left for prom but she never made it. In that moment you had seen him break, completely fall apart before your very eyes and there was nothing you could do to help him. Shara had been a wonderful person and you adored Poe’s parents having grown up in their house as a second home. Seeing his pain had damaged something inside you and all you could think about was running away.

‘Am I right? You two,’ your eyes rose as he gestured to you both of you, ‘must have had a great time at prom we barely saw you…’ Snap punched Beaumont on the shoulder as silence settled on the table. You and Poe had never made it to prom, instead heading to the hospital so he could say a final goodbye. You got up, fumbling a quiet excuse as you hurried away from the group. You needed out, the noise cascaded over you from the bar and you could feel yourself panicking as you raced down the large staircase to head outside to the gardens. They were only small but you found a bench tucked away and you finally allowed yourself to feel. Tears slid down your face as you silently cried. You remembered everything, all the promises you made him saying you’d be there and help him through his pain but really you should have looked to yours. You didn’t even attend her funeral, turning to Kylo Ren of all people. His parents own a huge company and they got you a job in England, an apprenticeship and you took it, fleeing your old life and falling head first into a new one. Poe had every right to hate you, you hated yourself enough, hated for running out as soon as you could.

You had tried to forget Poe in England and for a time you did, you fell for someone and he swept you off your feet and you got married. But the cracks that started off tiny just got bigger and one of the last things he said to you was your heart clearly wasn’t in it. And it wasn’t, you’d left your heart here with Poe you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You blotted your eyes trying to gather up the courage to go back inside when someone materialised out of the shadows, his hands in his pockets as he stood a few paces away from you.

‘Hi,’ he said as he stood awkwardly. You slid across the bench silently inviting him to sit with you and he did.

‘Hi,’ you whispered, clasping your hands in your lap as you turned to face him. ‘Poe…’ he shook his head interrupting you.

‘Let’s not,’ he looked up at the sky. ‘Let’s not drag that up.’

‘Good idea.’ You both sat together falling into a familiar silence but not really looking at each other until he spoke again.

‘So you went to England? Jess said…’

‘Yeah, I quite like it over there.’ He smirked slightly.

‘You have an accent.’

‘Poe Dameron I do not!’ His smile got wider as he ran a hand through his curls, a motion you had adored in High School and still did it seemed.

‘It’s cute.’ You swallowed as the butterflies restarted in your stomach and you tried to find anything else to talk about.

‘So what about you? What do you do now?’

‘I followed Dad didn’t I, became a mechanic but I work on planes rather than cars.’

‘Wow that’s impressive,’ you fiddled with the material of your dress as the next question fell from your mouth and even to your ears it sounded strained. ‘Got a wife?’ He looked down at his shoes as he shuffled them in the dirt.

‘Nope, apparently my heart wasn’t in it,’ he said bitterly and you froze hearing those words again, letting out a shaky laugh as he looked at you.

‘Well I’ve been told the exact same thing,’ he frowned as you glanced at him quickly. ‘My hus….ex husband said the same thing to me and he was right.’

‘Husband….you got married?’ You could hear the hurt in his voice and you felt the well of sadness threaten to rise inside you again.

‘Not that it worked out. I left my heart here anyway.’ He opened his mouth to reply when a shout caught both your attention, it was Snap.

‘Guys! We’re heading to Maz’s place, you coming?’

‘Yeah sure,’ you coursed together. ‘Though I want to look at the photos before we go.’ You smiled slightly at him as you stood.

‘Come on then.’ You followed him back inside and you joined Jess at a photo of the pair of you.

‘You ok?’ She asked quietly as she pointed out one of Poe and Snap looking all fresh faced and happy.

‘Yeah I’m ok,’ you replied. You paused at a photo of you all, Poe was standing next to you and he was looking down at you as you smiled at the camera.

How different your life would have been if you’d just stayed, but you had come across Kylo one night at the beach. About 1am in the morning and even though you weren’t what you would call friends you had been so desperate to talk to someone you had spilled everything to him and he gave you the way out you so desperately craved. You looked up as Poe came up behind you.

‘Come on, let’s get drunk,’ he suggested. ‘It will be like the old days,’ he said as he nudged you in a playful way. You went to step away when his hand caught your arm and he held you back from the group. ‘For the record, your ex husband doesn’t know what he’s losing,’ your breath hitched as his warm hand slid up your neck and he planted a kiss against your cheek, his stubble rubbing against you slightly before moving away and you fell into step beside him.

You noticed how suddenly the dynamic had changed between you, now he wanted to sit next to you, he followed you, his hand lightly touching you now and again as he spoke to you. You tried not to think about the way his body pressed against you as you all squeezed into two cars, the scent rolling off his leather was undeniably Poe and it made you swoon slightly. Finally spilling out of the car you gulped in some fresh air trying to curb the feelings you had creeping up on you.

The bar was exactly how you remembered it, dingy and dark perfect for making out in without getting caught. Your eyes were drawn to a booth in the corner and Poe saw you looking.

‘You remember?’ He murmured.

‘Of course I remember,’ you whispered in reply looking up at him. It had been the first place you’d kissed and right now you felt exactly as you did then as you caught up in his eyes, his scent, his expression.

‘Guys! Shots!’ You dragged your gaze away from the man next to you as you grabbed a glass off the bar, all downing the burning liquid before Jess gestured for another lot. You ordered a gin and tonic and took the glasses over to the empty booth, you slipped in and Poe slid in next to you. The rest joined and you couldn’t help the little flutter in your chest as he brushed up against you when he took his leather jacket off, his white shirt top buttons were undone and you caught sight of a necklace. Poe had never been one for jewellery and you pointed feeling curious.

‘What’s this?’ He pulled the chain out and you recognised the silver ring instantly. ‘It’s Shara’s.’ He smiled and let you take it in your hands, turning it over with your fingers as you felt how warm it was from being against his chest.

‘Pack it in you two! I want to hear all about England!’ You let the ring drop and your eyes flew to Poe’s in panic. You hadn’t told any of them except Jess you were married and you had only just told Poe you were divorcing.

‘Let’s get another round in,’ Poe said loudly trying to draw attention off of you but Kare was relentless.

‘Sure sure get some drinks, but I want to hear about it, you’ve been out there for 10 years not even heard a peep from you. What’s so captivating over there?’

‘Oh you know, I’ve just been working hard, I was offered an opportunity and I couldn’t pass it up.’ You rubbed your arm feeling a chill as Poe got up from the table, Snap going with him to the bar.

‘Doing what?’ You shifted uncomfortably as you looked at your friends faces.

‘Well, I help run the British side of the Alderaan Haulage company.’

‘Wait wait,’ said Beaumont holding his hands up. ‘You work for Kylo Ren?’ You could feel the blush creeping over your cheeks as Poe started heading back to the table.

‘He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ you said trying to keep your voice low.

‘Is he still as much of a douche as he was at school?’ Poe’s attention snapped to the table at Ronith’s very loud question and you felt yourself die inside a little bit.

‘I don’t have any problems with him,’ you said shrugging.

‘But then he left you alone at school,’ sneered Kare. ‘He had a crush on you soooo bad,’ said Jess.

‘Who are we talking about?’ Said Poe as he slipped a drink over to you and sat back next to you, his shoulder nudging yours.

‘Kylo Ren,’ said Kare as Snap sat down gently beside her. ‘He had a crush on the traitor here.’

‘Guys that’s my boss you’re talking about and he just walked in,’ you hissed, sinking into your seat slightly as Poe flung a possessive arm around your shoulders. You felt surprised as the sudden obvious contact and you saw Jess smirk as she sipped her drink.

You all watched as the crowd piled in, they had been the popular cool kids at school, Kylo with his rich parents had ruled the year, Armitage Hux was still hanging onto his every word, Phasma still shamelessly thirsting after him. Then there were the guys, you and your friends had called them the Knights as they always surrounded Kylo like a beefy entourage, as if he needed protecting. Kylo clocked you before they swarmed the bar and you did a stupid hand wave in acknowledgement.

‘That was embarrassing for you,’ sniggered Jess as they all started laughing into their drinks.

‘Laugh it up fuzzballs! I bet I’m making more money than all of you combined!’ Thankfully that started a new debate and you sat back into Poe’s side as you let them argue. You shivered as his hand gently brushed up your arm, you were sure he didn’t even know he was doing it but you didn’t mind. You had daydreamed so much over the last few years and every time you hit a low point, memories of Poe had helped you through. Your phone buzzed and you cursed as the name came up on the screen.

‘I need to take this,’ you mumbled, climbing over Poe not even getting to enjoy the way his hands helped you out as all you could think about is why he was ringing now.

‘Hello?’

‘Mummy?’ You instantly grinned hearing your daughter's little voice.

‘Hey baby, you ok?’

‘Yeah,’ your 4 year old daughter's voice brought tears to your eyes and you remembered why you had hesitated in coming. ‘Just missing you mummy.’

‘I’ll be home in a couple of days baby. Is daddy being good?’

‘Nope, he won’t let me eat chocolate before bed.’

‘Well that’s good…’

‘Mummy...bye.’

‘Bye baby…’ you heard some rustling on the other end of the line and you frowned as you heard your ex husband speak.

‘So when will you be back?’ He demanded.

‘Well my flights in just over 24 hours then I’ll be home soon after that.’

‘I don’t see why you had to go…’

‘Yeah well maybe I needed a break from it all,’ you snapped, already feeling weary from talking to him.

‘I’ve got papers for you to sign.’

‘Can we talk about this when I get back? And not in front of Flick?’ You looked up at the night sky blinking back tears, fed up with the fights, the paperwork and hiding it all from your daughter as best you could. For now anyway.

‘Say goodnight to mummy it’s dark over there…’ you grinned at your daughters sing song voice before wishing her a goodnight and putting the phone down.

‘You ok?’ You wiped your eyes hurriedly as Poe stood by the door to the bar.

‘Yeah I’ll be in a minute.’ But he came up to you, pulling your hands away from your face.

‘I know you. I know when you’re upset. What did he say?’ You could hear a hint of annoyance in his tone and it warmed you inside that he still felt protective over you.

‘Not much, he was just reminding me I have papers to sign and letting our daughter say goodnight to me,’ the words left your mouth before you could think of what you were saying, not that you were ashamed of your child but you just wanted to have a night and be that person you’d been 10 years ago, now you thought with a heavy heart, Poe would look at you differently.

‘A daughter?’ His voice was monotone almost like he was trying to cover up his shock.

‘Yeah, maybe I should have brought her up before, I don’t know I just wanted to be me for a night.’

‘And you flew all the way out here to do it?’ He asked.

‘It’s been hell,’ you stated simply. You took a shuddery breath trying to quell the rising storm inside you but you felt Poe was the one person you could really be yourself around and at a touch of his hand your barriers fell. He pulled you to him and you cried loudly into his shirt, you hated this and you wished you’d never come but you so desperately needed to escape your situation at home even if it was just for a few days. You felt confused as you clutched Poe’s shirt and he just held you, ever dependable Poe. You pulled away not wanting to rely on him like this.

‘I’m ok, I just need to compose myself,’ you said sniffing.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ He asked his voice slightly husky as he looked down at you.

‘Yeah I should probably find a motel or something.’

‘Come back to mine, I’ve got a spare room. You’re not here for long, call me selfish but we have some catching up to do. I want to spend time with just you.’ You looked at him, you wanted to, oh god you wanted to go. Your brain said no but your heart said yes and today your heart won.

‘Sure, I’d like that.’

‘Let me get my jacket, stay here. I’ll be subtle.’ He planted a kiss on your head and you closed your eyes still warring with yourself. You told yourself you deserved this, even if a small voice at the back of your mind said you were going to break his heart all over again. He returned within minutes, his hand firmly pressing against the small of your back as he led you away from the bar. ‘Jess clocked me,’ he said just as the door opened. He grabbed you as he darted down an alleyway, he clutched you to him tightly as he peered round the corner. ‘She’s looking for us,’ he whispered and you couldn’t help but grin remembering you used to this back when you were dating. He looked down at you, his hand coming up, brushing the hair over your shoulder before gently swiping your cheek, his thumb trailed softly over your bottom lip and you ran it through your teeth as he tickled you.

You gasped as his lips connected with yours, the kiss was quick as he pulled away seeing your reaction. Your brain froze as long gone feelings rushed to the forefront.

‘I can’t….I only have tonight. I have to go back…’ you whispered feeling sad that you couldn’t just get lost in his arms without hurting him. He rested against the wall with a sigh as he thought about what you said, his curls flopping over his forehead in the way you loved so much.

‘What if we just take tonight. Don’t think ahead, let’s just have tonight.’ His voice was low and you heard the edge of need in his tone stoking the fire inside you.

‘Just tonight…’ you whispered as his hand wrapped around the base of your neck pulling you to him but he paused, his eyes looking deeply into yours as his lips brushed you gently.

‘Just tonight,’ he whispered back. He pulled away dragging you into the night.

Once you were inside his house you felt nervous, like a teenager and your parents were away but they had expressly said no partners. Yet you broke the rules anyway. That’s exactly how you felt, the air of anticipation surrounded you both as you silently slipped your shoes off at the front door. His house was homely, slightly messy but you didn’t care, grinning as he grabbed some stuff to throw in the washing machine.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

‘You were never the tidiest person,’ you said following him into the kitchen and you couldn’t help the smile spreading over your face at the noise of indignation he made.

‘I am an adult! I can live how I like!’ You laughed remembering his Dad used to say that.

‘When you grow up you can live how you like, but until then! It’s my rules!’ You both descended into laughter as you finished off Kes’s phrase. He opened the fridge and pulled out some bottles.

‘What would you prefer, cider or beer?’

‘Ooh cider!’

‘Think fast!’ Your hand shot out as he threw the bottle at you and thankfully you caught it.

‘Poe Dameron! I was not ready!’ You said punching him gently on the shoulder, he held out his bottle and you took it automatically snapping the metal cap off with your teeth.

‘I’m glad that never changed,’ he said before taking a swig, his dark eyes trained on you. You snapped the cap off your bottle and took a sip feeling the cool fruity liquid flood your mouth. You were going to have a headache tomorrow.

‘Can I have a snoop?’ He shrugged and you slowly made your way to the living room. It was clear only Poe had lived here, you paused at the sofa, your fingers threading into the blanket thrown over the back. You recognised it instantly, your nan had taught you how to crochet and you had made a blanket with orange and white colours to create some circular patterns. You had been so shy giving it to him sure he was going to think it was stupid but he took it giving you a hug and saying thanks. And here it was 15 years later on the back of his sofa.

‘Poe..’ you looked at him leaning on the doorframe as he watched you.

‘It was all I had of you after you left.’ You took a steady breath at the sadness lacing his tone as you fisted your hand into the blanket. You took a long drink out of your bottle hoping to fight back the tears as you chucked your head back, the bubbles danced on your tongue and you tried to concentrate on that sensation but you could feel him behind you.

His hand took the bottle from your grasp and you let it slide from your fingers as you watched him over your shoulder. Next he removed your coat softly dragging it down your arms and you got goosebumps as his fingers trailed over your skin. He gently brushed your hair to the side and you had to bite your lip as he kissed the hollow in your neck. His hand tracked down your body as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. You stayed like that for a moment as his arms tightened around you and he breathed softly against your neck, his nose buried in your hair. You could feel the tension building inside you and you shifted against him, biting your lip again when you felt how hard he was through his trousers already.

You could feel your heart racing as you spun in his embrace, you could feel the edge of the sofa digging into your lower back as he pressed into you. You slipped your hands into his leather jacket, teasing it off his shoulders and laying it down over the sofa. His hands went back to your hips and his eyes roamed over your face, your chest heaved as you studied his face. A face you had desperately missed, you slowly traced his lips with your finger and his eyes glowered at you with a smouldering heat.

‘I’ve missed these,’ you whispered gently brushing his soft curls away from his eyes and he leaned into your touch.

‘I have missed you. More than you realise.’

‘Show me,’ you whispered. ‘Show me how much you've missed me.’ His lips were on you in a second, his tongue in your mouth as he pressed up against you. The kiss was fierce, full of hunger and need as his lips caressed yours, his tongue possessing your mouth in a way that left you dizzy and wanting air. Your body trembled as you pulled at his top and he tugged at your dress straps, you pulled your arms out pushing it down to expose your breasts and the smoulder in his eyes made you press your thighs together in anticipation. A fire had awoken inside you, a fire only Poe could create. It felt like his hands were everywhere at once and you groaned loudly as he sucked on your neck, kissing that spot that only he had been able to find. You pulled your dress up your thighs and wrapped your legs around his hips pulling him closer as you leaned back slightly. His hands supported your back as his mouth trailed searing hot kisses along your exposed collarbone and you worked his shirt out of his trousers, sliding your hands up his toned back. You moaned as he stepped away, his hair disheveled from your fingers, his lips red where he had kissed you hard, his eyes glittering with heat and his chest heaved as he tried to steady himself.

He pulled on your hand and you slowly followed him as he led you upstairs, he looked back giving you that lopsided smile that was always full of unspoken promises. He pulled you to him, kissing you gently as he backed into the bedroom, he turned and shoved you onto the bed and you watched with hooded eyes as he undid the buttons on his shirt, pulling it apart before he crawled between your legs, which you opened to accommodate him. His hand slid up your body, trailed up your neck and he pulled you to him for another kiss. You pulled on him and slowly he lowered his body onto yours, his skin warm to the touch and you rolled your hips into his eliciting a groan from him.

‘Baby you’re so needy,’ he whispered as his hand slowly trailed up your inner thigh, gently brushing your underwear and you almost whimpered in desperation for him to touch you. He hooked a finger in the band and began to shimmy them down your legs, leaving a line of wet kisses down your leg as he did. You were so consumed by your need for him everything else flew from your mind as he grabbed your thighs and pulled them apart. The cold air teased your wet core and you weren’t even ashamed with how wet you were, your hips bucked as he ghosted a hand over your bundle of nerves. ‘Patience.’ His brown eyes raked down your hot and bothered body before he dipped down, his face pressed into your inner thigh and you wound your fingers into his curls. You gasped, your eyes closing tightly as his tongue licked up your wet slit, your back arched as you felt a finger nudge at your entrance. ‘You are so wet,’ he murmured with a moan as he pushed a finger inside you.

‘More!’ You gasped and he obliged with another finger stretching you slightly but you wanted even more. You groaned as you tossed your head to the side just concentrating on the sensations he was giving you and the third finger that stretched you perfectly. A groan ripped from your chest as he gently swiped a thumb over your clit.

‘God, you make the best noises,’ moaned as his head dipped down again and you tightened your grip on his curls as he began to suck on you. His fingers dragged in and out of you causing cries of pleasure to bubble up from inside you. Your orgasm came at you in a rush, pleasure flooding your body as you tensed around him, you could feel just one more suck, one more motion and he’d have you tipping over the edge. Your legs shook and your mouth opened wide as the tidal wave of pleasure rocked your core, it spread through you and momentarily you didn’t know where you were, just lost in the wave of pleasure as it swept you away. You hummed as finally your legs relaxed, he crawled his way up you, kissing you as he shed his shirt and trousers in a rush. You wiggled your hips at the feel of his hardness against you burning the skin of your inner thigh, slowly he entered you and you both groaned at the sensation as he pushed into you. You were both so wet he slid in easily, slotting against you like he was made for you. His hands swiped the hair off your face as he kissed you deeply, his hips finally moving as he settled into a steady rhythm. You zoned out to the noises he made, the way his chain jingled against you both, the little huffs and groans he made when you wiggled a certain way had you moving closer to a second orgasm quicker than you’d like. His face buried in your neck and you felt him falter slightly against you and you knew he was close. You slipped a hand between you gently rubbing your clit, his eyes met yours as he quickened the pace. ‘I’m so c-close,’ he stuttered.

‘Mmmm let go!’ He pressed his forehead against you as he pumped into you, bringing you both over the threshold, your cries mingling together as you both released at the same time. He sagged against you kissing you lazily as you both rested in the post orgasmic bubble with each other. You wrapped your arms around each other, enjoying the company but as the feelings trickled away from you both cold realisation set in that this wouldn’t last for much longer.

‘Poe…’ but he stopped you with a hand over your mouth.

‘You promised me,’ he kissed your cheek. ‘An entire,’ he kissed your other cheek. ‘Night.’

‘We best carry on then,’ you whispered as a smile crept over your face.

‘Have you got anymore in you baby?’ Before he could react you flipped him onto his back.

‘You have no idea,’ you said as you nudged his face with your nose kissing him gently.

‘Promises…’ he murmured.

You stood by the edge of the bed looking down at him still sleeping. As you had predicted you had a headache but what did you expect from mixing your drinks. You knelt down next to the bed, not wanting to wake him but not wanting to leave without saying goodbye either, not again.

‘Poe…’ you nudged him slightly. ‘Poe….’ He groaned one eye opening sleepily.

‘Is it time?’ You smiled to try and cover the tears that were threatening to well up in your eyes and you nodded. He looked at you for a moment before pulling you to him and whispering in your ear as he embraced you. ‘We said, just tonight.’

‘I know I know!’ He pulled back slightly kissing everywhere he could reach as he held your face. The tears fell silently as you kissed him back before getting up, time was marching on and you couldn’t afford to miss your flight. ‘I have to go...my flight.’

‘Let me walk you out.’ His fingertips were touching you the whole time until you were at the door when he kissed you. His tongue swiping your lips as he kissed you deeply, you felt the wall behind you as he tried to press as much of himself against you as much as possible and you tried desperately not to cry into his mouth. You felt awful, walking away yet again leaving him standing here alone. ‘I don’t hold it against you,’ he murmured as he tucked your hair behind your ear. ‘If I could have left 10 years ago, I would have.’ You cleared your throat before you spoke.

‘But I should have stayed…’

‘No. You did the right thing, I didn’t think so at the time but for you, maybe for both of us. It was the right thing.’ He lifted your head, your eyes locking with his.

‘But the life we could…’ he shrugged. His muscles rippling under his smooth skin as he held your chin.

‘So what? Don’t dwell on the past, it could have been a really great life or we could have ended up hating each other.’

‘But I love you…’ a sob gripped your throat and you fell against him wishing you didn’t have to leave, not knowing when you could come back.

‘I love you too, I always have and I always will, but.’ He placed his hands on your shoulders pushing you away as he swallowed harshly. ‘We said. Just tonight. You have to go back.’ You nodded miserably, he was right you did have to go back.

He opened the door and stepped away from you leaving you no choice but to head outside, your taxi chose that moment to pull up with a squeal of its brakes. ‘Your taxi is here.’ You nodded sniffing slightly as you looked at him.

‘Bye Poe,’ it was barely a whisper like you didn’t want to say it but you had to struggle out the goodbye this time. You owed him that.

‘Goodbye, my love.’ It took all your effort to compose yourself at the use of his old nickname for you, it was his way of saying he’d keep you close to him always and forever. As the taxi drove away you didn’t look back, you couldn’t or you’d break down, shriek at the taxi to stop, fall back into his arms and you’d never find the strength to go back to England. You pulled your phone out with shaky hands and looked at the photo of your daughter smiling up at you. You were going home for her. The streets turned into a blur around you as the taxi sped you away, back to your life and tearing you away from the one you wanted.

You opened your eyes as the weak sunlight streamed through your curtains highlighting the cardboard boxes stacked up in your room. It had been over a month since you’d got back from America and things had moved quickly, the papers were signed, the house was sold and you bought a small two bed for you and Felicity. She was with her father this weekend and in all honesty you hated when she left. You walked through the house in your baggy t-shirt cursing softly as you stubbed your toe on another box in the hallway, hopping the last few steps you managed to ease yourself into your chair and woke your computer up. With a sigh you checked your emails annoyed to see you had nothing to attend to at this ungodly hour on a Sunday. You slumped at your desk, laying your head on the table trying not to get sucked into the swirling whirlpool of dark thoughts that struck you whenever you were on your own, threatening to pull you in the murky depths of hopelessness. A ping made you sit up and you saw Kylo had sent you an email. Finally, you thought, something to do! But you paused at the words on the email.

You have this week off. Enjoy.

Regards

Kylo

You stared at the email, you didn’t book time off? You’d been working 7 days a week almost every week since you got back. Furiously you shot an email back saying he must have made a mistake but the response was almost immediate.

I do not make mistakes. Don’t make me change my mind.

Kylo

You sat back in your chair frowning, you had nothing coming up, no one's birthdays, it wasn’t Easter or Christmas, no school holidays….your mind spun wildly as you entered the kitchen putting the coffee machine on. You really had no idea why Kylo would give you this week off, maybe he was rewarding your hard work but it was so out of character for him.

You swiftly grabbed your coffee as a knock sounded at the door, you quickly ran a hand through your hair but you just successfully made it worse. You pulled the door open expecting to see you ex bringing your daughter home early but your eyes were playing tricks on you. Shock held you rigid, your fingers gripping harshly to the door but you didn’t register the pain shooting down your arm. You had no words as you blinked stupidly at the person before you all coherent thought leaving your brain as he grinned at your reaction.

‘My love, are you going to let me in?’

‘I — I, yes…..’ you finally managed to step aside noting the large bag on his back as he gently prised your fingers off the door closing it softly behind him. You still couldn’t process he was really here as he leaned against the door, his eyes heavy and weary after the long journey. ‘Here.’ You held out the coffee and he took it, his eyes darting behind you.

‘Is she here?’ You shook your head, your heart beating erratically in your chest as he took a step towards you. ‘So I can do this?’ He whispered as his hand slipped round your waist, pulling you towards him he kissed you deeply. You pushed away, your hand flying to your tingling lips as you stared wide eyed at him.

‘You’re here.’

‘I am, sorry it took me so long selling the house was a pain and convincing Dad this was the right choice…’

‘You’re moving here? For good?’ He turned to look at you, his dark eyes hesitant.

‘I can buy my own place until you’re ready..’

‘No.’ You grinned, a stupidly big grin as you stared at Poe Dameron in your hallway, in England. ‘You move in here, we have wasted enough time.’

‘Only if you’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Holy fuck you’re actually here?’ You let out a short laugh in disbelief.

‘Tired, but I’m actually here.’

‘Jess told you where I was didn’t she?’

‘For once, yes she did.’ He held up a hand moving towards the front door. ‘I brought some extra gifts.’ Loud shouts erupted from outside as you saw all your friends standing on your doorstep. Tears filled your eyes as you greeted them all.

This is what you’d wanted, your friends and the man you had loved your whole life in your life always. Bet you’re glad you went to that reunion now.

#modern!poe dameron #poe dameron #poe dameron x female reader #angst #smut #CW: divorce mention #CW: children mention #kylo ren #fluff #one shot #school reunion #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess

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readyallthecanons · 3 years

Text

dark world oc things

just some thoughts on some new ocs for a new world!!

Vicente and Damiàn Velasquez

From the affluent and influential Velasquez family of assassins

Children of Don Santiago, the family’s patriarch, and the spirit medium Victoria Caceres

They are very supportive and protective of each other; lots of love there

Both are trained in the art of Murder but have their own interests outside of it

Vicente

he/him, idk what his sexuality is but his type is women who can murder him

5’10”, curly black hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes, cheekbones for days, very very well dressed, always looks very put together and classy but not like he’s trying to, but like sure he’s trying but it’s almost effortless, a rectangle

An assassin; has a day job probs but idk what that is atm

Charming, ambitious, and philanthropic; he is here to Help and has a good , honest, well-respected reputation...but he is also conniving and calculating and backstabbing, especially when it involves the interests of his family; very good at reading people, gaining their trust and making connections; can use the secrets, favors, trust, and access he has acquired, often unnoticed, over the years to attack or injure or for his own ends; the type of person you would want to be friends with, especially if you care about Society/connections, but that is a Choice; very, very devoted to his own

There is an integrity and genuineness to his methods which makes him so trustworthy and reliable, he’s always There and he puts in the effort...but it’s also what makes him more dangerous; basically, he’s a really really good politician

Very, very in love with his wife, Valencia; extremely devoted to her and their eventual children

“I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way--what a bliss.”

Inherited his mother’s gift of mediumship so he can see and communicate with ghosts

Does music (violin) -- Victoria wanted to do music but didn’t have the means to so she made sure at least one of her kids had the opportunity to -- and it is way of clearing his head

Has a fancy shmancy cane that has a hidden weapon in it bc i think that’s cool, sexy, and fun

Damiàn

he/him, i don’t think he’s figured out his sexuality yet but he’s Vibin

6’0”, dark wavy golden brown hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes, baby-faced, dorito body ala Chris Evans, almost always covered in grime and dirt, wears round spectacles and has mechanic goggles always on his head or around his neck

A year and a half younger than Vicente

An inventor/scientist; lowkey steampunk vibes

Intuitive, systematic, and resourceful; essentially the Inventor archetype, very da Vinci meets Tesla meets Maurice from BatB vibes; he likes tinkering with things and figuring out how stuff works; believes that there is a solution to every problem; he isn’t easily disheartened and gets excited over failures as it is an opportunity to learn; can and will get lost in thought like the world could end and he wouldn’t know

But he’s not awkward, still has the upbringing of a member of a high class/society family; a great conversationalist and loves a good debate/exchange of ideas but has a preference for his automatons, chemicals, and machines; he can survive in a party basically

Interested in harnessing energy and power sources; he’s going to try to give a scientific explanation to magic u guys like for a dude who lives in a house powered by magic, has ghosts, and has family members with supernatural powers, he’s p bullheaded about it

Black sheep of the family as he doesn’t have much interest in the family business of Murder bc he prefers tinkering with things...can still commit a sneaky Murder if he wanted to

But if given the chance, between Vicente and Damiàn, it’s Damiàn who can get really creative when killing a person

Whereas Vicente is efficient and quick with his kills, Damiàn can draw the death out as long as possible

Soledad Ramirez Velasquez

she/her, idk she hasn’t thought about her sexuality at all so TBA

5’7”, a translucent blue-white color, empty crazy eyes, wears a blood stained (stains are silvery) wedding gown, has gunshot wounds on her person -- the most prominent being the one on her forehead, has either a butcher’s knife, axe, or hatchet with her at all times

The Velasquez family ghost; has haunted the family manor for like a shit long time already before Vicente and Damiàn come along

A Black Widow bride when she was alive -- married rich dudes and then murdered them to get their inheritance

Her weapons of choice were those that she brings around as a ghost

Always got a way with it -- either she wasn’t connected to it completely or there wasn’t enough evidence to file a case against her

Ended up genuinely enjoying the murders she did; she’s living her best life u guys

Eventually married into the Velasquez family and successfully killed her husband...which was her undoing as the family then killed her as an act of revenge

Despite getting proper burial rites, she chose not to move on out of fear of what is waiting for her in the afterlife; came back to murder the Velasquez fam members as revenge for killing her

The family, for the longest, had no idea what was going on

It was Bit

Eventually, all was revealed and an uneasy truce was struck between the fam and Soledad (the fam was like “what you did wasn’t cool but mad respect tho”)

Murderous, dramatic, and bloodthirsty; she is very proud of what she’s done and actively threatens to kill people like she was already murderous alive but it got cranked up a notch as a ghost; likes to have fun with her victims before she does them in (ex. Terrorize them, make them run, etc.); can be very protective and possessive when she chooses to be; has a very expensive taste and has loves living life (lol) -- will look for a party she can haunt when she’s not on a killing spree

Her undead life has given her a lot of time to reflect and experience things she normally wouldn’t consider when she was alive bc she was too busy getting other people’s money...she’s kinda annoyed by it

Is fiercely protective of the family, the manor, and the family fortune...has done many murders /things for/because of those 3 things

The way to her heart is expensive gifts (that she will leave in a room to gather dust), murder, and the Velasquez family; she likes the kids but they’re terrified of her

#vicente velasquez #damian velasquez #soledad ramirez velasquez #oc intro #dark world #new dark world #the velasquez family #i just needed to get this all out #that being said there might be some future changes #esp with their sexualities bc thats just a big ??? atm lol

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candywrites-stories · 4 years

Text

Strawberry Blonde

(Story by me, based off of the song Strawberry Blonde by Mitski)

"I love everybody because I love you."

Sarah was in a good mood today. She said good morning to the bus driver, gave her florist some chocolates along with her payment, and tipped the lady who owned the farmer's shop a little extra for her food.

"When you stood up, walked away barefoot,"

She checked that her blouse fit well and checked her skirt to make sure it was flowy enough. She couldn't stop thinking about the one she loved.

"And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape,"

Sarah walked to the field where two spots of grass were pressed down from being frequently sat on.

"I looked over it and I ached."

Sarah's heart was full of love and her head happiness. Walking through the town, she met Chrys.

"I love everybody because I love you,"

The two walked through the town, saying good morning and in a generally cheery mood.

"I don't need the city and I don't need proof."

The two left the town and walked down the long path to the fields.

"Oh, all I need, darling, is a life in your shape,"

Chrys looked at Sarah adoringly as she rambled about all the shops in the town and how they always have the best food, flowers, clothes, trinkets, everything! Sarah didn't notice the staring, and Chrys didn't notice how full of love and admiration the staring was.

"I picture it, soft, and I ache."

Sarah had a soft, petite figure and curly hair. Chrys had a larger build, but was still a little slim and was taller with straighter, slightly wavy hair.

"Look at you strawberry blonde,"

The two sang a song while making their way to their spot in the fields. They talked about everything going on. Chrys had a birthday party to attend on Wednesday. Sarah asked who's birthday it was, and learned ti was Chrys's 6 (soon to be 7) year old cousin, Ty. He was a sweet boy who loved animals, so Chrys was getting him a chameleon as a present! They talked some more and Sarah made an announcement. She was finally confident enough to ask someone on a date! She couldn't wait, but she was anxious for the reply of her beloved. Chrys congratulated her and hoped it would go well, yet couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

"Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind"

A gentle breeze blew by, and Chrys debated on whether or not to say something to Sarah.

"You tell me you love her, I give you a grin."

Chrys wanted to date someone, and told Sarah about this. She was very pretty, kind and sweet, and Chrys wanted to date her for a long time. There was only hope that she'd accept the offer. Sarah, upon learning this, smiled and wished Chrys luck with earning her heart, feeling a little jealous as well.

"Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape,"

Sarah had green eyes, Chrys was centrally hetero-chromatic, with blue on the edges of the irises and brown closer to the pupil.

"So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines,"

The two looked ahead while walking through the fields, enjoying each other's company.

"Keep my eyes on the road as I ache."

The two longed for each other's love, not knowing the other already reciprocated their feelings.

"Look at you, strawberry blonde,"

Sarah glanced at Chrys, hoping for tonight to go well.

"Fields rolling on," The sun was setting on the field, slowly turning the hills into large silhouettes and the sky a brilliant gradient of warm colors. The two kept on talking, then Sarah told Chrys to follow her. The two stood up, then Sarah grabbed her picnic basket and started running. Chrys, surprised, ran and tried to catch up.

"I love it when you call my name."

"Sarah!" Chrys called. Sarah was running and running and didn't seem to be getting tired, but she stayed at a slow enough pace that Chrys could follow easily. The sun was setting and it was getting dark, and Chrys began to get concerned. That is, until Sarah took a slight right turn and ran through a field that immediately lit up with fireflies. With so many of them, there's no way it'd be too dark!

"Can you hear the bumblebees swarm, watching your arm?"

The two ran past some bees, but the bees paid more attention on getting back to the hive than they did the two larger beings running past.

"I love it when you look my way."

Sarah looked back to see that Chrys was still there, and flashed a smile before looking forward again so she could she where she was going.

"Look at you, strawberry blonde~"

Sarah stopped in a clearing encircled by trees, looking Chrys in the eyes. The two were blushing, but didn't realize it under the silver light of the moon and the faint glow of the fireflies.

"Fields rolling on~"

The clearing wasn't completely encircled, you could still see the fields stretch out a long distance. It was beautiful. A small circle of loosely planted birch trees with wooden benches, a flower garden, and a small stream flowing nearby.

"I love it when you call my name~"

"Chrys..." "Yes?" Chrys was still looking around, awestruck by the view of the stars, the fields, the trees, the stream, everything!

"Can you hear the bumblebees swarm, watching your arm?" There was a hive in one of the trees on the far side of the clearing. The hive was emitting muffled buzzing from bees trying to settle down.

"I love it when you look my way~"

"I have something to tell you." Chrys finally stopped looking around and turned to face Sarah. The two made eye contact, Chrys getting lost in Sarah's almost honey-colored hazel eyes, Sarah gazing back into Chrys's dark, rich, pine green eyes.

"I saw you,"

When Sarah first met Chrys, she didn't think much of the shy person with the pretty, soft, round ocean blue and pine bark brown eyes and the kind, quiet demeanor- ok, maybe she took a liking to Chrys right away. But she wasn't sure how to introduce herself.

"I saw you,"

Sarah was actually surprised when Chrys came up to her one day. "Hi, I'm Chrys. Well, Chrys for short. I see you around a lot and wanted to introduce myself."

"I saw you~"

Chrys's hand was outstretched and Chrys was looking away slightly, nervous. Sarah gladly shook hands.

"Glad to meet you, Chrys! My name is Sarah! I saw you a few days ago actually, but I didn't know how to introduce myself!

"I saw you,"

As time went on, the two became best friends. Growing closer practically every day! Closer than they initially realized.

“I saw you,"

And now, back to the present. "Chrys, I..." "What is it, Sarah?" "W-Will you date me? I've been in love with you for a while, a long time and I really, really, really, really love you. You can say no of course, it doesn't have to change what we have-" "YES!!" "Wh- really? Are you sure?" "How could I not be? I've loved you for months!" "B-but what about that girl you liked?" "That was you!" "Oh! Ahaha!"

"I saw you~"

The two laughed together, and shared a kiss. Short and sweet, but filled with love all the same. When they eventually decided to go home, Chrys let the way. And Sarah stared at the long, wavy hair her lover was named after. The strawberry blonde shade was the color of a Chrysanthemum. And Chrys was just as beautiful as her namesake. Sarah walked up next to Chrys and held her hand, and the girls kissed each other goodbye before heading to their homes.

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

Death

Chapter One of “Secrets, Secrets”

Pairing: OC!Pedro Pascal x OC

Warnings: Dark elements (in later chapters), explicit!

Summary: Katherine ‘Kate’ Grey starts to spiral into the supernatural world after the death of a friend and a new neighbor next door.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Okay this is purely because I got bored and wanted to try this out. I’m still working with it but this is a good start.

(First one is not my pic!)

The moon was shining over the city. Though it did not need the moon to light the way – the city lights took care of that – it still hung in the dark sky, bright and full.

It was still just as eerie and chilly. The wind whispering against skin, left over trash breezing by.

The man, Andy, was walking home, having to stay late to look after a patient. Knowing it was dangerous to walk alone on the streets, he debated on whether he should take the turn into the alleyway. It was one of the shortest ways to get to his apartment, but an uncomfortable feeling overcame him when he looked into the darkness that surrounded the area.

He didn’t have enough time to start walking the other way before he was pulled into the alley, mouth covered and slammed into the wall before he could comprehend what was happening. He only got one brief look at his attacker before he felt a deep pain in his neck. It was useless to struggle, the attacker was too strong.

The last thing Andy saw was a smirk, blood curling around it before darkness overtook him.

…

Kate gasped as she bolted up, clutching her chest. It was another restless night, and she could not remember what the dream (or dreams) were about. All’s she knew is that it terrified her. It seized her body with a tight coil, squeezing and squeezing until she felt like she couldn’t breathe… She didn’t realize her alarm was still blaring until her ears stopped ringing.

Turning the alarm off her phone, Kate groaned as she stretched. Reveling in the cracks of her bones and feeling more alert now, she checked her phones for any messages as she made her way to her bathroom.

Kate grimaced at the reflection she found staring back at her. The dark circles under her light green eyes were more prominent today and her long, strawberry-blondish hair were sticking out like a crow’s nest. Pale ivory skin, slender curves hugged beneath oversized pajamas, and looking just about half dead. Sighing at herself, she quickly settled and changed into a simple t-shirt and black sweatpants. Today was one of her days off and she had every intention of taking full advantage of this rare opportunity; staying inside and doing practically nothing all day was a good way to go.

It was raining anyway, which wasn’t a surprise at all. Summer in the city was hot, but Kate didn’t mind it. She’d rather have the heat along with the storms than the harsh cold of winter. Going into her kitchen to brew some coffee – or what little of it she had left – she grabbed her tv remote from the coffee table and turned on the tv in her small but cozy living room. Flipping through the channels, she smiled as she saw there was nothing but old reruns of shows she barely had the luxury to sit through and enjoy. It was a good start.

Wrapping herself in a small blanket on the couch, Kate sipped her coffee as her eyes stayed glued to the tv. Being a young receptionist at the nearest hospital in New York City had its perks, but there were also those cons. As a child she never really had the ambitions to become a nurse or a receptionist of any kind, but as she got older Kate started to find herself leaning towards a medical profession rather than a writers. It didn’t mean Kate ever stopped writing though, she kept all her pieces in a binder on her nightstand by her bed.

Sometimes they would be poetry, other times documentaries of sorts; what happened in the world that day, what she did, felt, etc. It made her feel better at the end of the day, made her forget the horrors she saw at the hospital, even it was for a little while.

But there were other moments where Kate found herself awake in the middle of the night, pencil in hand and nothing but scribbles and nonsense on the pages sitting in her lap. Kate would be covered in sweat, feeling as though she had just ran a marathon, hair sticking to every inch of her body it could reach, and her heart would be beating straight out of her chest. It worried her, and she would always debate on throwing them away after.

It was not always like this. Growing up, Katherine Elizabeth Grey was a very happy and free-spirited child who always received A’s and B’s in school and was quick to make friends. Her parents were always accepting and encouraging, even when she moved out from her small country – surrounded more by towering mountains than cornfields and cows – to the big city.

The nightmares and dreams, however, were a completely different story. When she was younger she wasn’t afraid of them, they were simply harmless in her naïve eyes. But when the most recurring one became more prominent in making her feel as if she had no control over her self and would leave her visibly frightened, Kate began to realize that maybe the dreams actually had a message to them that bled into her reality; not in the way that came from stress or memories, but in a way that it was completely new and a warning, or a summoning she wanted no parts of.

Never once did it ever change. It would start out in a pale, gray forest. It vaguely reminded her of home. The trees would be curled and curved, dead but somehow still thriving with life (Kate often felt that she was the one giving them life). Leaves would crunch silently under her feet on top the gravel that looked too smooth to her. No wind, no signs of life (life that Kate was familiar with at least), just nothing. There’d only be one trail through the forest, and she knew better than to tread off; everything behind her would turn to utter darkness, and she wasn’t ready to see what lurked in the shadows.

It would end with her standing in front of an arch way. Vines twirled and entwined along the loop of it, surrounding what remained of the gray light. There’s nothing but endless darkness inside.

Shuddering at the thoughts of it, Kate drew herself closer. A chill ran through the room, but she was quick to ignore it.

Her quiet and relaxing morning was suddenly shattered by a loud bang from next door. Kate frowned. Her neighbors had moved out of her apartment complex about a month ago. They were nice, but Kate loved having to deal with less people. She contemplated just tuning it out until there was another, a little louder than before.

With a huff and a string of grumbles, Kate decided to investigate. Besides, if she was to have new neighbors, she wanted to catch a good look at them. Opening her door, she peered to her left where all the commotion was coming from. There were a few small and big boxes laid out in front of the open door, not labeled but looking quite full and heavy. She was about to just step back inside her apartment when a man came out, eyes immediately finding hers.

He was quite handsome. Dark brown eyes that were immediately captivating – Kate was positive photos did not do them the justice they deserved – with wavy dark hair that ended just below his ears. His skin was a beautiful tan color, pale in some areas but still beautiful. He was wearing a black, long sleeve shirt that hugged his biceps – he wasn’t quite built but there were still muscles protruding – with simple blue jeans and plain sneakers. The smile he sent her made her knees weak and her heart flutter; she refused to let him see the effect he was having on her by just one smile.

“I apologize if I was being too loud,” he said.

His voice was rich and smooth as honey. She detected a small sign of an accent as he spoke but couldn’t place where it came from. There was also a hint of teasing in his apology, but Kate could tell it was all in good fun.

Kate cleared her throat once she realized he was still waiting for a response. “N-no you’re fine. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” she explained, suddenly shy now. “Sorry I bothered you!”

“You’re not a bother,” he called out, making her freeze mid turn. “So how do you like the city? I just moved out here for the first time so…”

Kate smiled politely at him, searching for words to say. She was too caught off guard.

“It’s not too bad,” she shrugged, leaning against the wall of her doorway. “I didn’t grow up here or anything, just moved here a few years ago actually.”

He hummed, crossing his arms. “Well maybe you could give me a tour one of these days? Show me the ropes.”

Kate felt her face flush. “Y-yeah maybe. I’m not sure I’m the best for tours but I’ll give it a shot.”

He grinned, showing perfect pearly teeth. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. I’m Damien by the way. Rhodes.”

Damien Rhodes. It sounded odd to Kate as she played it back in her head, but she grinned back nevertheless.

“Katherine, but I go by Kate.”

“Kate,” he tasted on his tongue. She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue.

Before she could say something – Kate wasn’t sure what she was going to say after her awestruck – the ringtone of her phone started to blare from her living room.

Damien chuckled at Kate’s face; it was a mixture of daze and shock. “Well I’ll let you get that. It was nice meeting you, Kate. And, if you don’t mind me saying, I look forward to many more.”

Kate huffed out a breath with a playful smile. “Sure. We’ll see. Nice meeting you too, Damien!”

She heard him chuckle as she bounced back into her apartment, shutting the door behind her. Kate shook her head as she tried to clear her thoughts, running to her phone before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” She gasped out.

“Hey, did you hear about Andy?”

It was one of her friends and coworkers, Abby. She was a quiet woman, dark blonde locks matched with a pair of wide hazel eyes. Kate had put in time to make her come out of her shell, and Abby had grown more comfortable and confident with herself since. She was also one of the first friends she made after moving.

“No, what happened?”

Andy was another coworker of theirs, a doctor beloved by many who knew of him. He wasn’t a bad man or anything, but Kate didn’t really pay much attention to him despite knowing of his attraction towards her. She had let him down as gently as she could and he surprisingly took it well, and they’ve been civil coworkers ever since. She had to stay late and help him with a patient – a child who was still recovering from a devasting car crash – last night, and he seemed like normal Andy to her, which she suspected is why her heart starting pounding in her chest; it felt like she was in another dream, and wondered if she would remember this moment come the next time she opened her eyes.

“He’s -.” Abby’s voice trembled.

“Abby, what happened?” Kate asked sternly.

“They found him. In an alley on the way to his apartment. Just left there, like… like he was just tossed away with the trash.”

Kate froze. Her chest tightened, short of oxygen as she tried to comprehend what she had just been told.

“No that’s not -.” Kate croaked, licking her dry lips. “I was with him last night. There’s just… do they know h-how?”

Abby let out a heavy sigh into the phone. “Well they’re kinda puzzled by it actually,” her voice was still trembling, but it seemed to calm the more she talked. “He was completely drained of blood, and there were no other signs of a struggle or any other injuries.”

Kate furrowed her brows in confusion, sitting down on the arm of her couch before her legs gave out from her.

“Drained of blood?” She said shockingly. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. Listen I gotta go. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Kate stared at the screen of her phone. Dead. And she was one of the last people to see him. A new set of panic washed over her, palms growing sweaty.

Kate knew in the back of her head that there was no logical reason behind her panic; she knew she didn’t kill him and she had an alibi that would pass with cooperating witnesses and tapes.

So why did she feel like as if she did? Should she have walked home with him? Make him stay an extra hour? Make sure he was prepared for attacks?

There was nothing Kate could have done, and yet the responsibility of his death was still crushing her with its weight.

…

Kate felt dead on her feet as she trudged behind Andy, babbling away about a movie he was interested in seeing in theaters; she barely paid attention to the title of it.

“Anyways,” Andy continued mindlessly. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kate mumbled. “Have a good night.”

“You too!” He called back as they went their separate ways.

Both Kate and Andy travelled either by cab, bus, or feet until they could afford a decent vehicle that would actually get them from point A to B; Kate especially had the worst of luck when it came to vehicles of all kinds.

Kate didn’t mind walking though, she had done plenty of hikes with her family before moving away. This night was a night like any other, streetlamps flickering as she walked by (upon remembering this Kate started to gape), barely a soul in sight on the streets.

It took only about twenty – thirty minutes for Kate to reach her apartment. She remembered getting out her keys to unlock the door and then…

…

Nothing. Kate didn’t even remember changing let alone managing to pass out in her bed. She closed her eyes tightly with a groan, feeling the developments of an unforgiving headache.

This was too much. What was supposed to be a relaxing day off turned into one of the worst days of her life, and more were to come.

Almost as if everything was working at clockwork, big, heavy knocks banged on her door, causing Kate to jump.

“C-coming.”

Kate cursed herself as she ran her fingers through her hair. She needed to calm down. Taking a shaky inhale, Kate opened the door to find two police officers.

“Katherine Grey?” The male asked.

“Yes,” Kate croaked.

“You’re not under arrest, but we need to ask you a few questions. About one of your coworkers, Andy Crumb.”

“I heard,” Kate had to clear her throat. “I’m more than happy to answer any of your questions. Please.”

Kate opened the door wider for the officers, who offered her polite smiles as they checked out her apartment.

Kate doesn’t know how or why the feeling suddenly came to her, but she suspected that Damien was standing at his door, smirking as he watched and listened as her life started to descend into madness.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @outlawers, @hejahockey, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @our-mrlangdon, @snokesthrussy, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird

#i'm trying #pedro pascal #oc!pedropascal x oc #pedro pascal x oc #darkoc!pedropascal x oc #original characters #original story #secrets secrets #vampires #werewolves #demons #angels #witches #magic #spells #mine #new #the supernatural #dark

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darlingmckinnon · 4 years

Text

- CHARACTER BASICS.

name: marlene saoirse mckinnon

nickname: marls, mar

age: 23

gender: female

ethnicity: white

nationality: half english, half irish

pronouns: she/her

education: hogwarts

occupation: stage actress and barmaid at the leaky cauldron

hometown: brighton

current location: a small flat in london

affiliation: order

blood status: pureblood

CHARACTER APPEARANCE:

face claim: kaya scodelario

height: 5′5

weight: 55kg

hair colour: dark brown

eye colour: blue

dominant hand: right

distinguishing features: light scattering of freckles across her nose

MAGICAL EXTRAS.

patronus: badger - signifies power, passion and aggression

wand: hazel wood with dragon heartstring core, 11″ and not very flexible

boggart: return of lord voldemort, and the deaths of her family and friends

hogwarts house: gryffindor

amortentia: oranges, caramel and fresh cotton

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: compassionate, intelligent, brave

negative traits: headstrong, over-protective, impulsive

goals/desires: to bring proper peace and order back to the wizarding world, and to become a world-famous actress

fears: losing her family and friends, lord voldemort, enclosed spaces

mbti: esfp - the entertainer

hobbies: drinking, reading true crime novels, acting

habits: nail-biting, smoking cigarettes (which her mother just hates)

questionnaire

Q1. what are your thoughts on the charity, pur societatis, created to rebuild the wizarding world after the terror of he-who-must-not-be-named?

“Honestly? I don’t trust them one bit, and I’m certainly not alone in that. Some people think that just because Voldemort is dead, all the bad guys are gone, but I’m not so naïve. The death of one dictatorial monster doesn’t mean they’ve all been suddenly eradicated. They’re up to something fishy, but I’m not quite sure what that is. But hey, I’ve always been told I’ve a habit of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong… That might come in handy right about now.”

Q2. why did you choose to become an actress and barmaid?

“Well, I sort of fell into acting by a happy accident. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do after school – I didn’t want to go into a super stuffy office job, I love being on my feet and interacting with people. One night after finishing a shift in the pub, I saw a poster advertising auditions for a play at the Old Wizard’s Theatre. I don’t really know what came over me, but I decided to audition for a supporting role and somehow bluffed my way into getting the role. Since then, I’ve been in a good few plays, but obviously my career was, shall we say, put on hold thanks to that bloody War. And I know, I know, don’t say what my mother always says – “acting isn’t a stable career, blah blah blah. But it’s my passion, and my job at The Leaky Cauldron helps keep bread on the table. You’re gonna see me on the stage one day at the Muggle West End.”

Q3. do you feel safer now that he-who-must-not-be-named is dead? or do you believe he is still out there?

“I mean, how safe is safe? Do I feel a bit safer knowing that the maniacal freak that we’ve been fighting for so long is finally dead and gone? Yeah, of course. But like I just said, danger is still out there. Call me paranoid but I keep thinking one of his goons is plotting to resurrect him from the dead, and then, we’re right back to square one. Honestly, I don’t think my paranoia will ever really go away. Guess it’s one of the traumatic side effects of living through war.”

headcanons

· Marlene’s birth came as something of a miracle. Her mother Josephine and father Aidan had been unable to have children for years until Marlene came kicking and screaming into the world. Her mother jokes that becoming a mother to Marlene was a “baptism of fire.” She screeched the house down non-stop for her first two months of life, and as a toddler, she wasn’t much better.

· Her younger brother Jacob means everything to her. He is now nineteen and embarking on a career as a Healer. Gentle and kind, he is stark opposite to Marlene’s fiery personality. Growing up, Jacob barely spoke because, as he puts it himself, “Marlene did more than enough talking for the two of us.” They are extremely close and speak every single day.

· The daughter of two Gryffindors, Marlene was always convinced that she too would be sorted into the lion-crested House. To her surprise, the Sorting Hat debated for some time about whether to place Marlene in Slytherin. Though ambitious and crafty, her bravery manages to outweigh this side of her. Marlene has only ever told one person (Lily) about this.

· Marlene has suffered repeated night terrors since the end of the War. Most nights, she wakes up at least once screaming in a cold sweat, images of her dying friends playing in her head. She has yet to confide in anyone about this, afraid of seeming like she can’t handle herself anymore.

· Marlene is half-Irish. Her father came from Co. Clare on the wild west coast, and her family always went back for at least a month every summer. Ireland is probably where she feels most at ease – when she’s a rich actress, she wants to buy her own home somewhere along its captivating coastline.

· Although it’s more of a side-job while she works her way up the acting ladder, Marlene genuinely enjoys her job at The Leaky Cauldron. Pervy men and dishwashing duties aside, her shifts always fly by because she’s just so busy chatting to everyone who crosses the pub’s threshold. She’ll be the first to admit she’s met many a regrettable one-night-stand through her job.

#dmhqintro #dmhqtask01 #about marlene

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seductresses-temple · 5 years

Note

Fuck

So, this is actually a little something I cooked up for my best friend @50shades-of-truth it’s my first time writing ANY content for this paring and it’s un-betaed and probably sucks SO bad but I love him so much and my bb deserves nice (adjacent) things! Soooo without further adieu

Lessons From Mother

Pairing: Blaise Zabini and Neville Longbottom

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

__________________

Growing up, his mother Selina was all Blaise had ever had. His father -whom his mother never spoke about- had died when he was young. Blaise remembered very little about him. He remembered the smell of sandalwood, a rich, deep laugh that filled up a room, and being held, but as time went on - as it is wont to do- those memories faded into a vague, fuzzy thing. The one thing Blaise did know about his father, with an absolute certainty, was that his death absolutely gutted his mother.

Boyfriends came and went.

Husbands came and went.

Every single man paled in comparison to the bittersweet memories of a long gone ghost.

Blaise adored his mother, he admired her strength and tenacity, sought to emulate her grace and beauty, and he lived his life by the lessons she’d instilled in him. She’d taught him manners, maths, how to dress with style, banking, she had a rule for everything, especially love, especially how to avoid love and Blaise had been doing a damn good job of it for seventeen years...until Neville.

Rule Number One: Don’t let them talk you into anything

It had all started with fucking Slughorn.

Classes at Hogwarts had resumed session over a year after the war and Blaise’s mother had - in no uncertain terms - made it quite clear that he was to continue his education if given the opportunity.

Of course McGonagall just had to give him an opportunity.

Two weeks before term was to begin, his letter came during Sunday breakfast and his mother had fixed him with a happy, expectant stare. They’d gone shopping in Diagon Alley the same day.

Summer passed by all too quickly after that and before Blaise knew it, he was sitting in Slughorn’s potion’s class, getting paired with Neville fucking Longbottom on a three month long potions assignment. All in the name of Interhouse Unity or whatever nonsensical prattle the faculty seemed content to spew about.

As if being back at Hogwarts wasn’t enough of a chore, being paired with the absolute worst potion’s partner on the face of the planet was just salt in the wound, wasn’t it? The only silver lining Blaise could find in the situation was that Draco had gotten paired with Potter and had turned nearly as read as Weasley’s hair.

“You will need to meet with your partner at least twice a week outside of class to conduct research, all of which will be recorded in these journals,” Slughorn waved a small, black, leather bound journal in the air before flicking his wand and sending a pile of them floating through the room.

“You will each share a journal to make the process as collaborative as possible and they will be collected the same day as your potion. Now, everyone switch seats so that you are sitting with your partner, you’ll have the rest of class to have a friendly debate over which potion you’ll be crafting for this assignment.” Slughorn clapped his hands and shuffled behind his desk, seeming all too pleased with himself.

Blaise refused to move from his seat. It wasn’t like he wanted to be there in the first place. To his credit, Blaise’s stubbornness seemed to have no effect on Longbottom whatsoever.

“I had an idea already,” Longbottom plopped down in the seat beside him, journal clutched in his fist.

“You let me do all the work and we actually pass?” Blaise raised an eyebrow at him. It was the only idea that had any merit, after all, Longbottom was rubbish at potions and Blaise Zabini had never failed a class in his life. He certainly didn’t plan on starting just because he’d been paired with an accident waiting to happen.

“Ha,” Longbottom rolled his eyes before leaning in conspiratorially, a wide, mischievous grin splitting his face and making his eyes absolutely sparkle.

“I’ve got something big I’m working on. It’s a risk, but that’s what you lot are all about, yeah? Ambition, cunning, pride. Think you’re in for the ride, Zabini?”

If Blaise had been a smart man, he would have known it was the beginning of the end in that moment. He would have ran away and never looked back. Better to run away than be a fool in love. But having never fallen before Blaise was too blind to know…

Rule Number Two: Don’t fall for their doe-eyed stares

Neville Longbottom, against all odds, was actually quite brilliant. His grand master plan -if they could pull it off- would be even more powerful than dittany. It would effectively have the power to heal wounds left behind by Dark Magic and Magical Creatures alike. Even old scars.

“I’m making it for Bill,” Longbottom told him one day while they were working out on the front lawn, the journal sitting between them as they got settled on top of a large blanket in tacky Gryffindor colors.

“And Bill is?” Blaise asked, twirling a bit of dittany between his fingers, having no issues whatsoever showcasing his boredom.

It seemed to have no ill effect on Longbottom, however, who propelled himself into explaining far more of the Weasley family tree than Blaise could ever bring himself to care about. He didn’t care, not in the slightest, but something about the way Longbottom looked as he spoke made Blaise pause. Made him listen. Made him stare deeply into Longbottom’s eyes, which were impossibly brown with small flecks of hazel and hang onto his every word. There was a fire in his eyes as he talked about healing, his eyes warm and bright, his voice strong and sure, and his face just a little bit flushed, lips moving a mile a minute.

Blaise certainly didn’t think about what those lips would feel like against his own.

That would be preposterous.

Rule Number Three: Don’t become smitten with their little habits.

Neville Longbottom was something of an artist and apparently brilliant at charms.

It was a small fact Blaise had learned by happenstance. The first time the two of them had sat down in the library to research the potion they were creating, Blaise had been reading aloud from some of their research material while Longbottom scribbled notes in the journal. It wasn’t until later that night, when Blaise was leafing through the journal before bed -out of sheer boredom, mind- that he spotted the most gorgeous picture of an English Rose in the margins. It was charmed to bloom, over and over, and looked so fantastically detailed, Blaise would have sworn he could nearly smell it.

They passed the journal off periodically and every time Blaise received it back there was always some new little drawing that caught his eye. Without thought, Blaise took to scribbling the name under each new addition. It got to the point where Longbottom would start drawing less common plants, testing Blaise’s knowledge, and it had turned into a game of sorts.

Their little plant trivia was how Blaise found out that Neville fucking Longbottom was a bit of a bastard underneath that shy, unassuming disposition. Blaise also found out he didn’t care to lose their little game. Every time Blaise couldn’t identify a picture before their next hand off, Longbottom was nothing but smug grins and little jabs.

“I thought part of being cunning was being resourceful, Zabini?” Or something like, “well, I see why you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw.” Or a little shove and a “you’re allowed to use a book, you know?” All of which just made Blaise scowl and grumble and try all the harder to the point that Longbottom started leaving little words of encouragement under each drawing.

Blaise found a “you’ve got this” under a doodle of a ‘shy plant’ and there was a rush of vindication when he was able to scribble mimosa pudica underneath. He got a very enthusiastic “show me what you’ve got!” under an incredibly graphic drawing of Hydnellum peckii and he wrote a disgruntled “you’re gross” underneath his answer.

What really put the final nail in Blaise’s coffin was reading the words “I believe in you,” under a drawing of a tulip, its petals charmed to turn yellow ever so slowly.

Blaise didn’t write an answer.

Rule Number Four: Don’t give them the power to make you jealous

Jealousy was an ugly, foul little thing. After the incident with the tulips, Blaise couldn’t bring himself to speak to Longbottom afterward. Every time he tried those damnable yellow twinged tulips flashed in his mind and he heard his mother’s voice in the back of his head. “Be careful with your heart, my darling boy.”

So Blaise was careful, which meant working on their potion -two nights a week- in a terse silence while silently counting down the minutes until he didn’t have to be in such close proximity to Longbottom because it was all becoming too maddening. What was a boy to do when the object of his affection was so close? Their breath mingling together, faces mere inches apart as both of them hovered intently over their potion. They watched the surface suspiciously, anticipation coiled tightly in their chest, and Blaise did everything in his power not to lean over and steal a kiss.

So lost in his own little word of trying to fight his stupid, selfish impulses, Blaise almost didn’t hear Longbottom who was mumbling something at his side. Alright, so he didn’t hear him at all.

“Hm?” Blaise hoped he sounded distracted instead of incredibly flustered. The heat of the potion and the fire in his belly didn’t seem to be agreeing with one another and it was all a bit too much.

“I was wondering if you could watch the potion this evening, just this once. I sort of, well I,” Longbottom cleared his throat, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he sat back in his chair, away from Blaise.

“I sort of have a date, I suppose,” he said at last and something vicious ripped through Blaise.

“A date,” Blaise had to pull the word from his throat. His voice must have sounded odd or strained or too much of something because it made Longbottom wince just to look at him.

“You’re right,” Longbottom gulped.

“I shouldn’t go, we’re supposed to be, well, partners. I can’t just l-leave you to go it alone,” with a nod, Longbottom pulled their journal into his lap and scribbled something down, staring at the table, the potion, anywhere but at Blaise really.

Fuck.

Blaise understood now, why they called Jealousy a ‘little green monster’ because his was currently stomping around his heart, throwing things, and having the world’s most Apocalyptic meltdown.

“Go on your date, Longbottom, for pity’s sake. Have fun,” Blaise waved a dismissive hand, building a wall around his heart brick-by-brick because it was the only thing saving the useless thing from crumbling to pieces.

Rule Number Five: Love with your whole heart or don’t love at all

It was, Blaise liked to think, quite hard to get under his skin. That’s what he thought, anyway, until the day Neville walked into the library, eyes puffy and raw, the tip of his little nose just a little bit red, and the tracks of his tears down his cheeks as visible as the sun in a clear blue sky. Blaise felt instantaneously livid, his emotions flaring hot and intense like a bonfire.

“What’s wrong?” he snapped his book shut and put all of his attention on the boy in front of him, silently wondering how long of a prison sentence he’d get for killing whoever dared to make Neville cry. He was sure to get some leniency, if any member of the Wizengamot took one look at Neville, spoke with him just once, and saw how good and pure and sweet he was.

“It’s nothing,” Neville pulled out their journal, his trembling hands causing it to drop onto the table which caused two things to happen.

The first was that the page just so happen to open on the page where Neville’s tulip was slowly filling with yellow. The second was that a spare bit of parchment came tumbling out of it, falling -ironically- into Blaise’s lap. Without meaning to, Blaise couldn’t help but catch it and he couldn’t help it if a few of the words seemed to jump off the page. The words someone else and break up may as well have been written in red ink.

“He’s an idiot,” Blaise muttered, handing Neville the parchment back, trying to pretend as though he didn’t feel his magic jump beneath his skin as their fingers brushed together.

“He isn’t the only one,” Neville fixed him with a pointed stare and Blaise could only sit and stare back at him.

The boy has a point, some logical part of him whispered but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Their potion was so close to being done and Neville seemed content to through his heartbreak on the backburner in favor of getting down to work.

It was astounding to see him in his element. Blaise couldn’t help but steal glances out the corner of his eye, watching Neville hunched over the potion with a book in his lap, brow furrowed in concentration, and his bottom lip held loosely between his teeth. A strand of his hair fell over his eyes and Blaise’s heart fluttered so hard he thought the damned thing would fly away.

Tucking away every lesson his mother had ever taught him, Blaise reached over for the journal, scribbling down what he should have written over a month ago.

Yellow tulip- Hopeless love- Neville, will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?

The smile that spread across Neville’s face as Blaise caught him reading the note over his shoulder nearly stopped his heart.

Fuck.

There was no denying it.

Love seemed to give no fucks about the rules.

#blaise zabini #neville longbottom #hp fandom #wip game

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inkitonpaper · 5 years

Text

The Seven Deadly Sins in a Relationship

LUST: very strong sexual desire

Their story started the way many stories start in today’s time and place.

After a night long of stolen glances, coy smiles - a silent invitation inside the deafening club and a small nod given by Camilla, culminated in the couple heading to the closest swankiest hotel.

As soon as the door of the rented suite was behind them, clothes were discarded and limbs entangled. Their lips searched each other’s, thirsty for the taste of what they had been promising each other all night. Their hips and limbs bumped and collided against fixtures as they blindly made their way to the awaiting bed.

“Camilla,” she mentioned breathlessly.

“What?” He asked, turning to face her, his eyebrows drawing together. His breath was heavy and his eyes a little unfocused. He didn’t remember asking anything.

“My name,” she clarified cupping his jaw, pulling his lips to hers. “Camilla. I don’t want you calling me baby or honey or some overuse unimaginative corny nickname.”

He chuckled and nodded his head before resuming the magic he was creating on that special spot he had found just behind her ear.

“Lucas,” he murmured against the column of her neck making shivers run down her spine. “My name. I want to hear you scream it in pleasure.”

“So sure of it?” She said with a smile.

To her dismay, he stopped. She opened her eyes to find beautiful hazel ones framed by thick lashes. “Are you challenging me?” He asked with a quirky smile.

“Maybe.” She replied giving in to the temptation to kiss his inviting lips.

“I do like a challenge,” he declared. Camilla searched for his lips but couldn’t catch them as he laid quick pecks on her chin, neck and moving down between the dip of her breast and then even lower.

Her hand pressed against the back of his, the one pressed against her breast. The pebbled nipples poking his palm; and her hips bucked against his face. Camilla bit her full lower lip stifling that sound of pleasure. She wasn’t going to give in so easily. If he wanted to hear his name on her lips, he had to do -

Her eyes flew open and her lips made a perfect O at what the tandem of his fingers and his tongue were doing.

Camilla ended up using his name a lot more than he used hers which didn’t sit well with her competitive spirit. The ribbing she got from him as pillow talk made her issue a challenge which he happily obliged. They counted orgasms that night.

At dawn the score was a tie.

They didn’t exchange more than a couple of coherent sentences between them that night, but it was enough for them to decide to exchange numbers and decide that the score had to be settled, most conveniently after dinner the following night.

GLUTTONY: habitual greed or excess in eating

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. The same applies for women.

One dinner turned to two which turned to three which turned to four. Another area they liked to explore and share, and were very passionate about was food.

They took turns at finding a new restaurant, a new cuisine, at sharing what they enjoyed about the food, about the culture. Lucas took her to his favorite French restaurant on their first date, impressing her with his knowledge of the language and his taste in wine. That was one luxurious sensual night the two would fondly remember.

Camilla took him to a small intimate Japanese restaurant. The sushi chef prepared sushi right in front of them. They got to watch a seasoned master showcase his expertise. In between bites they took the time to get to know each other. Something they weren’t able to do during their first date as both were enjoying a game of footsie under the table while they smirked and flirted. The relatively more casual environment of the Japanese restaurant let them be more relaxed and comfortable to open up. They held hands when they walked out of the restaurant.

Somehow, that act felt even more intimate than their previous nights together.

An article on a pop-up restaurant was shared on Facebook by a friend and Lucas’s first thought upon reading the article was to invite Camilla. He remembered Camilla mentioning that she had never tried molecular gastronomy before. Lucas was eager to lead her into this new territory, experience her first time with her. He definitely didn’t regret it. He loved watching Camilla’s eyes shine with excitement; he laughed at her sense of humor; he especially enjoyed the sounds of appreciation she made at how rich the matcha mousse was. Lucas would work hard in recreating those sounds in bed later that night.

A couple of days later Camilla was staring at the ceiling still trying to make a decision. On her phone, Lucas’s latest message was still displayed: Where are you taking me tonight beautiful?

It was her turn to decide their date but Camilla was stumped. The previous dates were all so extra she felt like she had to continue the streak. Lucas looked most comfortable in the middle of high class. He took her to expensive French cuisine and then to molecular gastronomy. As much as Camilla enjoyed that, she felt a little out of depth. Opening her closet she found that her three good evening dresses had all been worn before. If she brought him to that Greek restaurant she felt like she had to dress up at least a little.

Camilla sighed. Was this how it was going to be from now on? She loved lux as much as any girl but she wondered if Lucas was only about that. This was no one night stand, this was no hook-up anymore. They were in constant communication, they had escalated to having private jokes, they were dating.

Dating.

The word felt foreign but she knew this was the proper label to their situation now. Dating meant assessing the other as a possible partner. Did she want that?

Yes.

The question had barely formed in her head that the answer was already spoken. She wouldn’t mind dating Lucas, which meant she needed to see if they really were compatible.

Camilla quickly sent Lucas a reply and then grabbed a shirt and jeans before heading to the bathroom to prepare.

***

Lucas’s meeting ran a little later than he anticipated. He had hoped to go home and clean-up but instead now he was rushing to the restaurant Camilla had decided on. He checked his Cartier and hissed. He started to jog, apologizing as he bumped into people or cut them. He was a sight, His tailor-made dark suit jacket flapping, his Italian leather shoes put to undue stress as he rushed through the throng of mall goers. He looked around, arriving at the 3rd floor of the mall where most of the restaurants were.

Lucas spotted the neon sign reading “Prime” and sighed in relief only for that relief to be short lived seeing Camilla just a few meters in front of him. He picked up the pace and as he passed her, he called her name getting her attention.

“What are you doing?” She asked as he jogged to the front of the restaurant.

“Two tables for me and my late date here,” He told the waitress and winked at her.

“I’m not late,” Camilla said as she joined him by the entrance.

Lucas just smiled and offered her his arm, and then following the waitress to their table.

Lucas thanked the waitress over the menu, and she asked them to call if they had any questions or were ready to order.

“You could have just walked with me,” Camilla told him.

“What impression would I make arriving after the lady?” He asked. “I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

“Which is why you’re in a three-piece suit?” Camilla asked.

Lucas chuckled, embarrassed, and trained his eye on the menu. Camilla didn’t look too impressed.

“I apologize. Meeting ran a little long,” he explained and she nodded.

“No, I apologize,” she said. “This obviously is not your comfort zone. Would you like to leave?”

Lucas’s forehead scrunched.

“Ah yes, I’m not dressed for a fancy restaurant,” Camilla remarked which brought Lucas’s attention away from her beautiful brown eyes to her clothes. Lucas’s lips formed a smile at the design of her blouse, it had small fries printed on it.

‘I think your blouse is very cute. I have socks with a similar print. I love fries,” Lucas looked thru the menu “Yes! They have waffle cut fries! They’re the best!” He said excitedly which seemed to take away the tension off Camilla’s shoulders.

“Those are just fat chips. We want fries, and fries are long and thin,” Camilla replied giving him a smile.

“Waffle cut fries hold on dips or sauces much better than regular fries.”

The two launched into a long debate on fries which then turned into a conversation on burgers and whether to eat them with a knife and fork.

“Those people are just animals!” Lucas said. “A good burger needs to be eaten with the hands. If the meat juices and the sauces don’t drip to your elbows, was the burger even juicy?”

Camilla laughed. “That poor beautiful suit.”

Lucas promptly took off his jacket and folded the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I’m ready.”

Camilla was glad to see that Lucas just radiated sophistication but wasn’t -

“A snob?” He said the word with palpable disgust.

“Well, you kept bringing me to fancy places and you looked so comfortable in them,” Camilla tried to explain.

“Well now I feel a little snobby.”

“No! You’re not! You’re great! Really! You’re not a snob. I see that now. You just look good in the middle of high society and between common mortals.”

Camilla watched for his reaction but he returned her gaze.

“Keep telling me how good I am. Go on,” He urged her but the small tremble on the corner of his lips gave away that he was teasing her.

She threw a small fry at him and he roared in laughter.

“You said you liked Asian food,” Lucas recalled from their previous date. “I wanted to take you to the whole in the wall near my office. They make the best Pad Thai but I think even like that you’re overdressed.”

“I’ll come in my PJs. They’re the most comfortable clothes I own.” She replied with a smile.

“Ohh! I can just imagine. Cotton. Long sleeves. Buttoned up to the neck. Sexy.” He bit his lip before both of them burst out laughing.

SLOTH: excessive laziness or the failure to act and utilize one’s talents

When the honeymoon phase dies down makeup starts to fade, suits aren’t as crisp and a pickup lines start to run out, and a routine starts to settle in the relationship.

What they initially saw as exciting in the beginning of their relationship was starting to feel overrated. Dancing till three in the city’s best nightclubs was getting tiring. Dinner dates in the hottest new restaurant with the most promising chefs, or finding a hidden gem of a dish was not as exciting as before. The two slowly started spending more and more time on each other’s couch snacking on delivered meals and binging old TV series.

Camilla realized they were no longer in the honeymoon phase when she farted and it took a full minute for both of them to realize that the sound came from her. Camilla’s first reaction was to jump on her feet, ready to sprint, but she didn’t run away because she was stopped by the loud boisterous laugh of her boyfriend.

“How did that sound come from you when you’re that small?” He asked holding his sides as he kept quacking in laughter. He took a deep breath and then released a long loud fart.

“I can finally stop clenching my butt cheeks,” he said draping his arms over her shoulders and bringing her close to his side.

Another sign that they had passed the honeymoon phase - the trash that surrounded them. They no longer seemed to care to make a good impression on the other.

“What a mess,” Camilla stated as her eyes landed on the mass of plastic containers from their dinner date and that of previous ones. Bottles of wine lay hazardously on the floor. “We’re pigs.”

“You do sound like one.” He said then blowing a raspberry earning him a slap on the arm from Camilla.

“Clean up after yourself will you,” Camilla said as she continued to flick through the options on Netflix.

“We’re going to make a mess anyways. What’s the point?” Lucas asked, nuzzling the side of her head.

“This is a pigsty.”

“You could clean it.” Lucas suggested and Camilla gave an offended gasp.

“Just because I’m a woman?”

“Just because you’re a better person than me.” Lucas said giving her a big wide grin.

Camilla rolled her eyes.

It didn’t bother either one of them at first how comfortable they had become in the other’s presence taking this as a sign that their relationship had matured into a less physical and shallow relationship.

It didn’t bother them...at first.

ENVY: intense desire to have an item or experience that someone else possesses

One should never compare their relationship with those of others but even if one knows this, they cannot stop themselves from doing it.

She gets envious with how in love other couples looked. Camilla couldn’t remember the last time Lucas and she had an actual date night - the kind they used to have in the beginning of their relationship. The one that left you feeling fuzzy and warm inside. Nowadays she just felt bloated tired after one of their nights in.

Seeing dirty dishes in the sink used to make her chuckle, jokingly remark at how much they ate; now it made her skin crawl at their laziness. Picking up discarded underwear strewn across the place used to make her grin, thinking of the passionate night they shared; now it felt repulsive picking up dirty underwear off dirty floors. Most of all, what she used to think of as a mature relationship was starting to become boring.

In hopes to spice things us, Camilla set up a double date with a work friend of hers. Maybe they’ve been too content sitting in their own bubble, Camilla thought. It was time to remind themselves what it meant to be in the honeymoon stage once again, and to ignite that fire they used to have. She wanted to be excited to see him again, not because that was routine for them.

However, what the date showed Camilla was a relationship she yearned to have. She wanted Lucas to pull her seat for her. She wanted them to bring their heads close together and share a private joke. She wanted them to play footsie together and not get annoyed. She wanted them to make an effort towards each other again. Kisses now felt either obligatory or just a slip of the mind, like raising one’s hand to wave hello or goodbye.

As she listened to her girlfriends discuss their relationships, Camilla only identified more and more faults in her own relationship. She closed herself off more from Lucas, wishing to unsee the flaws in their relationship. She spent more time with friends, claiming she’s been so into the relationship she was losing touch with other people.

Camilla heard distance made the heart grow fonder; she really hoped that was the case.

GREED: excessive pursuit of material good

Once the status quo is disrupted, tension rises.

Lucas noticed small changes here and there, but it took a while for him to see the whole picture. It wasn’t a good picture. He had taken to Camilla like a child takes to sugar. It was instantaneous, it was a high, and he constantly craved it. He wasn’t a relationship kind of guy but when a connection was made, the businessman in him knew better than to let a deal slip through his fingers.

He wasn’t a very good boyfriend, he knew it. He didn’t have much practice in being one. Great bed partner, skilled business partner, but just a general partner...not so much.

He felt hurt when she threw back at him that they were spending too much time with each other. He wanted to spend time with her, isn’t that what a relationship was about? What was the point in having labels if those labels meant nothing. It ate at him that she would prefer to go out with her colleagues rather than stay in with him. It hurt that she was on the phone with others when she was with him. It hurt that she was drifting away.

So he made an effort to show her why she should choose him. He went all out in a romantic weekend out of town. Being in a new place, all the new activities, all the time alone brought them close together. For a little while after the trip everything seemed back to normal until it wasn’t once again.

Lucas wanted to know why Camilla was acting that way. He knew it couldn’t be anything he had done when he was the only one working to make their relationship work. She was the one putting space between them. There was no space between girl/boy and friend, Lucas thought to himself, they should be one unit.

Suspicions rose when Lucas noticed that a certain guy was in many of Camilla’s pictures. He asked her about him, and she laughed at his accusations. If Camilla thought the blasé way she answered him would emphasize how absurd his suppositions were and pacify his fears, she was wrong. It only made him more suspicious. When she bailed on their weekend for a company outing, and he saw the guy too close to Camilla for Lucas’s comfort, the green beast in him was unleashed.

The moment Camilla returned from the trip, the two had heated words. The jealous and possessive side of Lucas came out. The lack of restraint and the intensity in Lucas’s eyes and tone didn’t scare Camilla. She trusted him, she knew he’d never hurt her. Instead, this change in him only aroused her, She played defenseless when he swept her off her feet and onto her back. She let him take lead as he asserted his dominance over her. She parroted the words he wanted to hear, while her hold body and mind was focused at what he was doing to her body.

That night was one to remember for Camilla. She loved the feeling of control and power it gave her. She might have been under him but she knew she was the one driving the situation. She felt empowered knowing she could break Lucas’s cool and evoke such raw emotions from him, drive him wild because of wanting her. She felt desired. She craved the attention he gave. She tried to evoke that roughness in Lucas over and over again. Camilla continued to play, finally finding that spark with Lucas once again.

With every tease of Camilla, with every picture posted of her and that guy, Lucas’s patience got shorter and shorter. His calls to her became more often, his tone more commanding and demanding, his hold suffocating. Everything, everyone, had a limit.

WRATH: uncontrollable anger and hate towards another person

When you let something simmer for a long time, it tends to boil and spill over causing a mess.

Lucas’s mind was filled of scenarios of Camilla leaving him. His fear and love for her drove him to a man he would, down the years, hate. Suspicious of her, doubting himself, paranoia starts to kick in. Feeling cornered he lashes out and Camilla is at the end of his scathing accusations.

She no longer finds it cute. She no longer finds is empowering. Camilla doesn’t want this man, she wants her Lucas back; the one who shared her day with him, who stole her side, who laughed at her jokes and held her at night. She wanted his trust back, she wanted his smile back. Yet all she got was suspicions and sneers.

One night the two couldn’t dance around the issue anymore and finally had words. The discussion turned to a fight, words became insults, the voice got louder and the pitch higher. They threw accusations that they didn’t mean in efforts to protect themselves, shield themselves of the pain the other was inflicting.

And just a quick as the argument rose, it died sending the house into silence. Camilla left Lucas’s place without even slamming the door and that showed just how angry she was. Collected, cold, silent was Camilla’s way of communicating the depth of her anger. On the other hand, Lucas lashed out screaming and wrecking havoc in his living room. He went to bed with all the frustration he felt.

PRIDE: excessive view of one’s self without regard for others

Being right isn't always the best pick.

They’ve had fights before. Stupid fights over which school was better, or where to eat. More serious arguments over contrasting ideological views. But after fighting they always found a way to compromise. Neither of them felt there could be a compromise this time.

Camilla wanted Lucas to see that he was out of line. That he had changed, and not for the better. Lucas wanted Camilla to see that her actions were causing the friction in their relationship. Both stood their ground, waiting for the other to see the error in their ways. Both waiting for the other to come grovelling.

As time passed, their resolved started to wane. They missed each other. They wanted to hear their voice, wanted to share their day, wanted to hold the other. They replayed the scenario over and over in the heads, analyzing everything they said, they did.

Camilla knew she shouldn’t have pushed Lucas, she should have raised her concerns over their relationship getting stagnant. Lucas agreed that he had started to act unnaturally; but his fear of losing her had taken the driver’s seat. He knew that he should have trusted her because he did. He knew she was a better person than he let himself believe.

They talked about their situation with everyone but each other. Their friends sided with them, agreed that the other should be the one to humble themselves, to seek the other. Lucas and Camilla’s ego got stroked by well meaning friends reminding them they were great people who had a multitude of options waiting out in the world if the other didn’t see their value, and that it was the other’s loss if they didn’t see the error in their ways.

Neither wanted to reach out first, Neither wanting to admit they were wrong. Neither took a chance to make things right.

Unfortunately, their story ended the way many stories end at this time and age.

The End

#original fiction #short story #prose #creative writing #love #relationship #seven deadly sins

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greyofjakku · 6 years

Note

do you have any Senator!Ben and Jedi!Rey headcanons? where Ben never went dark and Rey was somehow found as a child and raised to be a Jedi by Luke

Hi nonnie! So glad you requested this! It was fun to write - so sorry it took so long. I’m sick with the flu and have an exam for Friday, but wanted to get this out! I’ll do the non-sexual part first, and then put the sexual under a cut :) Also, I wrote these headcanons as more ‘storyline-based’ than just a list. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself ahaha. I should really actually write this as a story *sighs*

*********

Rey and Ben met when they were younger, thanks to Uncle Luke bringing a few of his students with him to Naboo for the Festival of Glad Arrival. Rey was weaving in and out of one of the many dancing circles, stumbling over her feet but entrancing all the same. Ben, standing next to his mother in a place of honor, tried to ignore how beautiful the girl looked, not dressed in padawan robes but in a traditional white and gold embroidered dress. Braided ribbons adorned her arms and were tied about her three buns, aquamarine, peach, lilac, and daisy-yellow all fluttering in the wind. Across her face, gold paint was sprinkled like constellations, and an intricate design resembling a diadem was painted across her brow. He can feel her through the Force, a life-force that is warm and entrancing, like the sun. That was the first time Ben found himself enraptured by Rey, but also what he expected to be the last….

Ben didn’t see her again until she was a grown woman, 19 years and as beautifully fierce as a storm. She stood up in the middle of a galactic senatorial session to call out a particularly nasty Senator on his obvious speciesism and his disparagement of the Outer Rim sector. The entirety of the Senate had its eyes trained on her, breath held, before the clapping and cheering started. Rey, more embarrassed now at being praised for her outburst, flushed pink and resumed her post behind her assigned protectee, who wore the faintest of smiles on his lined face. Ben, having immediately recognized her, wore a look between shock and pleasant surprise, but he joined in on the clapping nonetheless. His eyes never again wavered from her for the rest of the day-long session.

He first speaks to her after the session releases. He catches her forearm - bedecked in arm wraps - in his warm hand, halting her forward movement. A current of pure energy flows between them, makes her hair stand on end. She freezes, stuttering in a breath before she grabs his hand and wrenches it away from her, turning with blazing eyes to see who would dare to touch her. A flicker of recognition crosses her hazel eyes, and she feels the Force echo between them like waves beating against a seashore, but her face twists into a scowl nonetheless. “Don’t touch me.” Ben holds up his hands, in an almost mocking manner, before leaning against the wall next to her. “You did what most were scared to do in there: use your voice, speak your mind.” She scoffs, tossing her head. “You’re senators; you only know how to talk people’s ears off.” Ben smirks at her words, but subtly shakes his head. “Not when it matters.”

He sees her regularly after that, in the hallways, in the senatorial chambers, at gala events. Every time she looks up, his warm brown gaze is trained on her, lips twitching in amusement. She tells herself she hates him, can’t stand the way he smirks and laughs and stares at her. Yes…that’s what it is.

She slams into his office, not even knocking. She was a force of nature, something to be reckoned with - hazel eyes glinting with barely concealed rage. “I’ve been assigned to be your bodyguard,” she growled out, “-despite the fact that I’d rather be the one to take you out than protect you.” Ben chuckles, leaning back in his chair languidly, knowing his easygoing attitude needled at her and her delicate temper. “What a serendipitous coincidence.” Rey sneers at his response, crossing her arms, the slate grey of her robes moving like water with her. “I was told that you had ‘requested’ me - as if I’m some sort of ‘girl-for-hire’!” Ben was already shaking his head. “I would never think of you like that.” Her shoulders subtly relax, and her erratic breathing seems to calm. “After all, you’re a woman, not a girl.” He ducks the bookend she throws at his head with the Force.

“You’re very thorough in your job as my bodyguard, aren’t you?” Ben comments as she trails her hands down his front, over each ripple and curve of his bare, muscled chest. “Oh, you have to be, in my profession,” she purrs against him, nipping at his pectoral with glinting teeth. “I wouldn’t want there to be something I missed.” Her hand strokes him through his pants, feeling him harden further against her eager palm. She smirks. ( @ifoundkylo hehehe)

Sometimes, when debates are particularly boring and long, Rey uses the Force in a way that would make old Master Skywalker cringe. She keeps her face stoic as Ben shifts restlessly in his Senate chair, the Force caressing him, stroking him. He keeps his mouth sealed shut, determined not to release a sound, but it’s when he has to count off or comment that Rey has the most fun. The slight stutters and broken sentences coming from his normally silver-tongued self is endlessly amusing. It’s safe to say that Ben ends up with a bit of a wet, sticky stain underneath his senatorial robes thanks to her fun…and he punishes her for it later.

“What a naughty little Jedi you’ve been,” he murmurs into the curve of her throat, licking there, sucking. “What would Luke say if he saw you now, getting fingerfucked by his nephew in a private opera box?” Rey shakes her head against him, gasping in a breath as his fingers undulate in and out of her at a leisurely pace. “Please,” she pants, writhing against him. “So polite now,” Ben murmurs, tutting. “Where’s your manners whenever your cursing me out, hmm? Or throwing bookends at my head? Or forcing me to cum during my sessions?” Rey clutches at his shoulders as her hips ride his hand; she lets out a moan, long and loud. “Be quiet, kitten. That is, unless you want the entire audience to see another show….” He chuckles at the thought, feeling her lithe form shake against him. She murmurs curses against his skin, biting at his shoulder as he thrusts into her particularly hard. “Do you want to come, little Jedi?” he asks, knowing her answer as he speeds up his hand and his thumb nudges against her clit. She bucks, mewling - tame for once under the ministrations of his fingers. “Should I let you?” She releases a muffled sob at the thought of not coming, desperate now. She begs for him, sweet little pleas falling from her delectable mouth, one after the other. He smiles in triumph, his other hand coming up to palm at her breasts through the silver spidersilk of her gown. “Come then,” he orders her, his voice as powerful and heady as when he is commanding the Senate floor. She does, just as the opera crescendoes to its grand finish. Yet, somehow, she still doubts that the opera was loud enough to drown her out.

She likes watching him work, likes the way he commands the room with a rich voice stoked in reason and power. He is dark, charismatic, convincing. She wonders, not for the first time, if the Force flows through him a bit more when he is working the floor - if his allure is purely him or not. Either way, the way he meets her eyes, even for the briefest of moments, has her wet for him. He knows it too, can read it in the set of her lips, the glint of her eye, how she holds herself. His lip twitches, imperceptible to anyone but her, and his eyes speak of promises to come, of late nights and fucking her into the desk in his office, spread out for him like a feast. She holds him to that promise when, two agonizing hours later, she slips away. As he enters his office, he’s greeted to an uninhibited view of her spread legs on his desk, her dripping pink cunt on full display. He shuts the door behind him, locking it, before prowling towards her. She offers him a smirk from where she sits, her fingers sliding in and out of herself. He quickly wipes it from her lips as he pulls her in for a long, searing kiss. “Anyone could have walked in and seen you,” he growls to her, hand locking around her wrist, halting her movements. “It’s a good thing it was you then,” she purrs, dark eyes flicking up to him with undeniable smugness. He proceeds to show her just how good it is that it happened to be him.

#Ara writes #reylo headcanons #reylo headcanon #reylo hcs #reylo hc #jedi rey #senator ben #jedi rey x senator ben #Jedi!rey #Senator!ben #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #reylo drabbles #reylo drabble #reylo #Arawrites

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d-noona · 4 years

Text

MAKE OVER

Chapter 5: Jeon Jungkook

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Choon Hee grabbed her the moment she walked into the library, and dragged her down to the privacy of the back room. "I'm dying of curiosity," she said, quite unnecessarily, since her whole body language reeked of a breathless tension. "Did you doll yourself up like we told you to? Did you wear the perfume? Did you knock glamour boy for six when he came to pick you up?"

Hyeonji had thought about what she would tell the girls this morning. She'd walked more slowly to work than usual, mulling over whether she should lie or not. Now the moment of truth was at hand, and despite Choon Hee's eager face Hyeonji could not bring herself to make up a story.

"No I didn't doll myself up," she confessed, with a wealth of apology in her voice. "I didn't wear the perfume either, though it was a lovely though, Choon hee and I do thank you and Han Byeol for it. And as I'm sure you've guessed...no, I didn't knock Hoseok for six when he came to pick me up."

Choon Hee exhaled a huge sigh of disappointment. "Oh, Hyeonji! How many chances like that do you think you're going to get?"

"Actually, last night wasn't a total disaster. Hobi did notice at last how much weight I'd lost. He also told me I had a nice figure and good legs...for someone so short."

"He did? Wow! You must have been thrilled to bits" she says.

"It's not quite good as it sounds," Hyeonji said ruefully, then went on to tell Choon Hee exactly how the compliments had come about. She listened intently, her eyes rounding further with each new revelation. "You mean he thinks you're in love with someone else? This guy he dubbed as Mr. X?"

"Uh-huh..." Hyeonji nodded.

"And he told you how to dress so that you would be more attractive for another man?"

Hyeonji again nods.

"I'd like to strangle him with my bare hands!" says choon Hee in annoyance.

"Don't blame Hobi. I forced him into it." Hyeonji automatically defends her best friend. "Rubbish! That man is a blind fool! Oh, poor baby."

"Not poor baby, at all Choon Hee," she returned with a very firm resolve. "Because I'm going to do it. Follow all of Hoseok's suggestions. But not for him, I'm going to do it for myself." She smiled at her friend. Choon Hee snickered at Hyeonji "Go on with you! You're not!"

"Yes I am"

"You're going to cut your hair short and dye it red?" as choon Hee's eyes grew rounder in shock. "For starters. So do you happen to know a good hairdresser who doesn't cost the earth? Also where I might find a make-up expert who gives free advice and tuition?"

Choon Hee's dark eyes twinkled with excitement "I certainly do. But gosh, Hyeonji, whatever is your mother going to say?" Hyeonji wasn't sure. But she would find out that evening. To be honest, the prospect was a daunting one. It wasn't like her to make waves. Or to do something as bold as this. But she was determined to change herself, and her life...whatever the cost.

Fortunately, she had a few bucks placed away for emergencies –and which she would use for her first visit to the hairdresser, and some make-up. Still, if she was to find enough money from their tight budget for regular visits to the hairdresser and a whole new wardrobe, then some changes would have to be made to their day-to-day lifestyle.

Her own salary was almost totally eaten up with the two mortgages her father had taken out shortly before he died, and her mother's pension barely covered their living expenses and other bills, with little left over for luxuries.

Hyeonji waited till after dinner before she brought up her plan for her future, and was not really surprised when her mother reacted badly. "But why do you want to change yourself so dramatically?" Zil asked in a tremulous voice. "I don't understand. This isn't like you at all!"

"Mum," Hyeonji returned patiently, "I'm twenty-three and I have not had one single steady boyfriend in my life. I do not want to become an old maid. I want to get married one day and have a family of my own. To get married I need a man, and to get a man I need to do something about attracting one."

"It's not any man you want to attract, missie,"came her waspish accusation. "It's Jung Hoseok. You were perfectly happy till you went out with him last night and now you've got all these silly ideas in your head."

"They are not silly ideas," Hyeonji said more sternly. "Yes I do have feelings for Hoseok. I always have had. I won't deny it. But you were right when you said he'd never fall in love with me, he thinks of me as a kid sister. But that doesn't mean I'm going to spend the rest of my life pinning after him. Since men don't exactly come flocking to my door, I aim to get out and about a bit more, and I aim to look darned good when I do so. Looking good costs money, which brings me to my first suggestion. What do you think about selling this house and buying something smaller? The mortgages are killing us."

Her mother gave her a truly horrified look. "Oh, no! No, no, no! I love this house. It's all I have. You can't ask that of me. You can't!"

Hyeonji relented and moved straight to plan B. To be honest she hadn't really wanted to sell. As much as she'd told both Choon Hee and her mother that these radical changes were for herself, she still wanted to see Hoseok's reaction to the finished product. Silly of her perhaps but a fact. "Okay, forget selling," she said briskly. "My alternative suggestion is that we advertise for a boarder."

"A boarder!"

"Yes. We have four bedrooms in this house, Mum, two of which are never used, the master bedroom being one of them. You could get money for that room. It has an en suite, a dressing room and lots of space." As Hyeonji tries to debate with her mother. "Oh, but I couldn't have some strange man living in your father's house and sleeping in his bed!"

Hyeonji prayed for more patience. Her mother's devotion to her father had increased considerably since his death. Couldn't he remember what a selfish bastard he'd been? How he'd wasted all her inheritance from her parents on one stupid get-rich schemes? Worst of all, how he'd often come home late, smelling of booze and cheap perfume?

"You don't have to have a male boarder, Mum. I'm sure there are plenty of widows around your age who need accommodation. It would be company for you as well," Hyeonji pointed out. "I am not going to be at home as much as I used to be."

Zil opened her mouth to protest again, then closed it, her expression petulant. She looked like a sulky child sitting there. Hyeonji felt sorry for her but knew she had to make a stand or her future would be as dull and dreary as she'd been fearing. "Do I have your agreement to put up an add next Wednesday's paper?"

The following day Hyeonji did what she was set out to do, though bombarded with the previous argument she had with her mother, who is still insisting on not getting any boarders, Hyeonji was persistent.

"I can't believe it's me!" Hyeonji exclaimed delightedly. "You're a genius, Taehyung!"

The hairdresser's smile carried a delicious satisfaction. "I must admit I have outdone myself this time!"

Hyeonji beamed anew at this striking and sophisticated-looking creature who was staring back at her in the mirror. She turned her head from side to side and watched the smooth coppery cap shimmer and sway and fall perfectly back into place. "This particular cut will give your hair body and style," Taehyung had pronounced reassuringly while he proceeded to shape her hair while layering the top concentric circles of from her crown. Hyeonji now had a stylish fringe down to her eyebrows, the effect being to diminish the size of her face and nose, and highlight her deeply set hazel brown eyes.

The new coppery color besides being eye-catching in itself, was a perfect foil for her pale skin, giving it a translucency and delicacy which has been lost against her mousy brown hair. When Hyeonji stood up she saw delightedly that the clean lines made her neck look longer and even more elegant.

"You look really different, I mean you're such a babe. If I weren't gay and totally in love with my partner Jimin, honey. I'd bring you home." The hairdresser said, shaking his head admiringly. "Taller too."

Hyeonji chuckles at Taehyung. "Yeah, I think you're right. I do look different," Hyeonji said excitedly. "Oh, Taehyung how could I ever thank you? It was so kind of you to fit me in your schedule tonight."

"It was my pleasure. Now how are you going to get home?" Taehyung asked once Hyeonji had handed the money. "I'll walk it's not that far." Taehyung lived less than a block from the library, which was only a fifteen-minute walk from her house. Taehyung frowned. "Do you think that's wise? It's Friday night, you know."

"What do you mean?" she asked inquisitively.

"People let their hair down on a Friday night around here. You'll have to walk past the bar on your way home, won't you?" says Taehyung. "Yes" Hyeonji responds.

"Then you better watch yourself. You're not exactly inconspicuous with that new red hair you know." Taehyung's warning startled Hyeonji. She'd never been hassled by unwanted male attention in all her life and simply could not anticipate that a mere change in hair color would create trouble for her, especially when she was still dressed in her library uniform.

But she was wrong.

She'd just passed the tavern and was halfway along the past stretch which followed the railway line when a hotted-up Chevie full of less than savory individuals rumbled by. "Hey babe!" one of them called out.

Hyeonji averted her eyes and crossed the road as soon as they passed by, then nearly died when she heard the tires screech as the driver executed a U-turn. Before she could blink, the car was cruising along next to her and an obviously drunk, loud-mouther lout was leaning out of the passenger window in her direction.

"Where you going baby?" he said breathing beer fumes in her way. "Wanna ride?"

She quickened her step and kept her eyes straight ahead. "What's the matter? You think you're too good for us? Fellas, you think we should teach Madam here a lesson or two?"

Her mouth dry with fear, Hyeonji was just about to run for it when a sleek black car shot around the Chevie and pulled up dead. The driver of the Chevie had to brake hard to avoid a collision and the man hanging by the passenger window almost tipped out onto the road. When a tall dark haired man dressed in black jumped out from behind the wheel of the black car and began stalking back towards Hyeonji's verbal assailant, the man shouted something and scrambled back into the vehicle, spun around and roared off.

Her savior curved his big hands over her shaking shoulders and peered down over her pale face. "You all right there miss?" he said. It was only then that Hyeonji recognized the identity of her rescuer.

It was Jeon Jungkook.

"Yes I think so," Hyeonji says in a breathless hush. "Thank you so much for stopping, Jungkook." His surprise at her for knowing his name was obvious in the jerking back of his head, and the widening of his dark eyes. Hyeonji would've gratified if she hadn't still been shaking like a leaf. "It's Hyeonji," she said "Kang Hyeonji"

"Hyeonji?" His startled gaze lifted to her hair, then swiftly ran down her body and up again. "Good Lord, it is you. I didn't recognize you with that stunning hair, and you've lost weight too, haven't you?"

"A little..."

His smile took on a knowing edge as he looked at her up and down again. "More than a little. You're looking fantastic. Too fantastic to be walking down these streets at night on your own. No wonder you almost got yourself into trouble. Come on, I'll drive you home."

After her frightening experience with those creeps Hyeonji wasn't about to refuse. She wouldn't have been human either, if she hadn't been flattered by Jungkook's compliments by her appearance, and by the way he kept looking at her.

His touch seemed gentle and solicitous as he helped her into the passenger side of his roomy black sedan, but when he sashed the seatbelt into place for her Hyeonji was quite sure his left hand deliberately brushed over the tips of her breasts. She stiffened inside but said nothing, ignoring his attempt to make eye contact at the same time. Creeps came in various forms she thought ruefully. It was obvious that outright rape wasn't his thing. Silky smooth seductions and one night stands where his forte. He would use his golden tongue to talk his way into a girl's bed. Hyeonji decided not to get carried away with Jungkook's words of praise. She didn't doubt she looked better with her new hairdo, but she wasn't competition for Tinashe just yet.

They were only a minute away from her home by car, but Jungkook didn't waste a second, bombarding her with questions designed to elicit the only information from a female he would want to know. How old was she exactly, where did she work these days. Did she have a boyfriend? Unfortunately Hyeonji didn't realize where Jungkook was heading till she told him several truths with naïve honesty.

As soon as he pulled up the curve outside her house, he turned and asked her if she would like to come out for a drink with him later that night. "I could pick you up at say...ten thirty?"

Hyeonji might've been inexperienced with men but she knew that to agree with such invitation at that hour of the night was to agree to more than just a drink. She didn't doubt that she'd get a drink. Plenty of them. And all of them alcoholic. Then, when she was suitably plastered Jungkook would take her back to his orgy palace for a night of raw naked sex. The very thought of Jungkook naked gave Hyeonji chills down her spine. He had a great body, facially he was very handsome, no doubt a lot of women fancied his darkly macho appearance with that playboy bunny smile of his, but Hyeonji preferred Hoseok's fairer more elegant looks.

Her favorite fantasy always included running her hands through his silky black hair and over his smooth chest. It turned her on just to imagine touching his body, whereas the thought of touching Jungkook's made her skin crawl.

"Thank you Jungkook," she said politely "For everything, but I'm sorry I can't. Not tonight."

To give him credit he took the rejection well. His black eyes glittered with undeniable confidence as he smiled over at her. "That's all right, another time maybe?"

"Perhaps," not wanting to be rude to her rescuer. "I'll call you," he said then started the engine and left.

Chapter 06

Masterlist

#BTS #BANGTANSONYEONDAN #BTSJHOPE #JUNGHOSEOK #JUNGHOSEOKXREADER #BTSFANFIC #MAKEOVER #BTSROMANCEFANFIC #YOUREMYHOPE #MYANGEL

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sassasquashedgrapes · 7 years

Text

Deep Love: Part Deux

You still with me? I’m so happy you enjoyed Part One with it’s lengthy, detailed intro. Now if you’ve noticed, my story is always written in the perspective of the two main protagonists, Quinn Fabray and my OC, Iain Hargreave. Same format follows, however, I was yet again, as I almost always have, not been able to come across the full ending. It’s always bee a bad habit of mine, sorry. I do come around to write an ending and there are so many drafts I’ve written down on paper or whatever I could come up with during those long nights of pulling clinical rounds back in my heyday.

But don’t worry, I’ve got some extra stuff about Iain Hargreave and his long-lost brother, Neil. I’ve even managed to make a continuity from the supposed ending and it coincided with the New York Season on Glee in its latter part before the show went bye bye.

Anyway, please leave me a kind message if you would like to read more or have any reactions, be it violent (be gentle with me please!) on this fanfic.

Ok, carry on!!! Click below

***

Chapter 7:

Quinn

Friends. He wants us to be “just friends”.

My heart sinks a little at the thought as I look at his handsome dark, impassive face. It may not what I hoped for, but at least a little bit of him wants to open up and he is talking civilly enough.

Wait! Hang on a sec.

Why on earth should I care so much for someone who obviously doesn’t want to have anything to do with me but feels obligated to stick around because he feels sorry for me.

Being around Iain is so confusing. He reminds me of this guy I had a big bad crush on during my Lucy Caboosey days when I was fat, overweight, and unloved. His name was Phillip Creed and I was obsessed with him. He was the star of the soccer team and was popular, rich, gorgeous with the same dark hair but he had hazel brown eyes. Phil had a girlfriend who picked on me the same way I did to Rachel Berry during sophomore year. Angelina Wilcox wasted no time at all making me feel like I never had a chance with her boyfriend because of who I was. Fast forward a few years later minus the fat and rhinoplasty, I still find myself feeling the same way around Iain minus the bitchy girlfriend.

At least this time, Iain is smiling and he looks more relaxed than usual. As much as I would never admit this, I have only been around him for less than a week and I missed him terribly when he was away for those three long days. Some part of me wanted to ask why he was gone. Did he go home to a girlfriend during those days he was at Lima? The thought of him with some unknown woman leaves me feeling bereft.

To the point that I blurt my thoughts out loud. We were in the middle of one of our tutorials when I express my worries vocally.

I throw Iain a horrid look, instantly regretting my spontaneity. Way to go, Fabray. Just perfect. It’s like those days when I greeted Phil along the halls and he looked right through me.

Iain’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He was in the middle of discussing the laws of thermodynamics. Which by the way, was actually pretty sexy considering physics is boring and how he describes it makes it sound so easy. Never mind that he looks ridiculously hot in a dark blue grey sweatshirt that brings out his blue-gray eyes and cream pants that are immaculately clean. He hesitates for a moment before he throws me a quizzical look.

“Well, you’ve been gone for three days. Don’t I at least deserve an explanation for that? I mean, what if you’re out and gone again for a longer time period? Maybe your girlfriend misses you terribly? I might be forced to get a different tutor who isn’t tied down.”

Iain sighs in relief, probably thinking I worried about him being with somebody. Not that it was the whole truth, but I do deserve some explanation.

“I went on a personal leave. I had some, uh, business to attend to that required me to be out of town for more than a day. I was helping my grandmother move some things out of her apartment because she moved a floor down. And lastly, I hate to dash your delusions that I’ve got some girl waiting for me, but for now, I’m single.”

Was it me, or did he just emphasize on the word ‘for now’?

I avoid his piercing gaze because he’s giving me that look that makes me completely uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s trying to break the walls I’ve built up my whole life. These were the walls that have protected me from ever being disappointed, hurt, and heartbroken.

With Finn, there really wasn’t anything there. I thought there was at first, but it turns out he wasn’t what I wanted. It was more like I had this urge to relive those ‘glory days’ of him being the town football hero and I was his number one girlfriend, but things have changed through the years and what I felt around him didn’t matter anymore. Puck, on the other hand, was a disaster. I admit that I care about him because he is after all, Beth’s father. However, other than having a baby in common, we weren’t right for each other. He’s too reckless, selfish, and immature.

Sam Evans was a sweet guy, but I guess even though he was perfect on paper with his Ken doll good looks and sandy white blond hair, even that wasn’t enough to make my heart pound furiously the same way I react towards this impermeable, mercurial young man sitting across me.

And here was Iain looking for a way right into it. If I wasn’t careful, he was probably going to break all those walls in a heartbeat.

All he ever had to do was ask.

But for now, I sigh with relief despite feeling a stab of disappointment, when he doesn’t. The man leans calmly on his chair, linking his hands behind his back as if waiting for me to answer or throw a quip at what he had just said.

Focus, Quinn. Don’t let him get the best out of you.

“Okay, that makes sense. But why are you here? You aren’t from around these parts, I can tell. So why Lima?” I ask instead. I notice he’s still debating whether to tell me. So I put on the pressure. “I mean, you can tell me since we’re “friends” after all.” Gosh, I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic on the we’re friends part, but I feel like after what we’ve been through, he owes me some sort of explanation.

“If you must know, I have a younger brother who doesn’t know I exist.”

My eyes widen in shock at the news. In my mind I had played over that maybe Iain was a serial killer, a man with a wife and a kid, or a double agent working for the secret service. Amongst other creative things that I had thought of his life, this was the last thing I was thinking he was going to say.

I wasn’t sure if it was the way he just said it out bluntly or was it another one his methods of throwing me off my guard but I look at his face to see some kind of reaction and he was honestly telling me the truth. In fact, I catch a small sight of something that seems like he’s showing a vulnerable side which he quickly squelches and resumes his impassive mask.

“I was eight when my mother left my father because she felt......abandoned and they had a big misunderstanding. She went home to Ohio to live with her sister. After the divorce papers were settled, she wasn’t heard from again until a few months ago I received word that she had died from cancer. I went through her records and found out that she had left a will to a young boy who was born six months after she was thrown out of the house by my father.”

“So you’re father never knew your mother was pregnant?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could anyone be so cruel and cold-hearted to just to drop someone they chose to marry? Exactly whatever that misunderstanding that passed between Iain’s parents was, it was that big of a deal to do something so drastic and tragic. My heart went out to Iain, who was such a young boy that he probably couldn’t understand or comprehend anything at the time.

“Yes. He’ll never know since he’s also dead. He died in a plane crash before I graduated high school.”

This just gets more depressing as he keeps going on about the details on his parents’ divorce.

“Do you still remember her?”

“Barely.” He answers, but I know somehow that Iain is lying because he just stares blankly at the wall.

***

Chapter 8: Iain

When Quinn asks me if I remember my mother, I knew I was telling her the truth that I barely remembered her.

Some memories I have as a child were forcibly blocked so I could deal with the pain. I know that whatever transpired between her and my father broke something inside and forced me to grow up.

When my mother left my father, he was heartbroken. He had remarried several times, but couldn’t stay in a relationship because he either cheated on his wives and they eventually found out, or that he divorced them on grounds that ‘it wasn’t working’. But I knew better. My father never got over my mother. She was his one and only true love and he lost her forever.

But there was this one memory that I still have of her. I was four years old at the time and it was during that night when my father brought my mother to the opera. My mother was in a beautiful full length gown with her pale blonde hair coiffed into a neat chignon. I went inside their room because I didn’t want them to go out without me, but my mother assured me that they would return. She kissed me on the cheek tenderly as I caught a whiff of the Chanel No.5 perfume she had put on. She grabs one of my father’s neckties and patiently teaches me how to tie it.

After demonstrating to her twice that I had gotten it right, I remember following her until the top stair cases as she descended down to the hallway where my father was patiently waiting for her.

He looked dapper in a tuxedo and smiled gently at my mother as he bowed gallantly and told her she was ‘more beautiful than Grace Kelly”. He took her hand and kissed it and he pulled her towards him and twirled her around as they danced while my father hummed to “Moon River”. All the while, my mother blushed and laughed heartily and I knew from the looks that they gave each other that they were truly, deeply in love.

It was both the happiest and the saddest memory I possess. I was sent to England a month after my parents’ date to the Opera when my great grandmother found out that I was a child prodigy with a genius level IQ.

Genevieve Rolfe-Stuart insisted that I was to live in England, with private tutors. It was to not only appease my insatiable curiosity and enhance my knowledge, but also to prepare me for Gordonstoun, a private co-educational boarding school in Scotland where my ancestors before me attended. I was to be separated from my mother, who had visibly objected, but was helpless once Madame (great grandmother) made her choice.

My transfer to England broke my mother’s heart.

Four years later, she and my father divorced. Since then, my father was too busy to pay me any attention because he buried himself with work which I knew was the only way he coped with the pain.

Genevieve didn’t waste time making me wallow in self pity. She hired tutors, most were retired professors from the one of the world’s respected Universities like Cambridge and Oxford. I was a curious child and a quick learner that my grandparents and Genevieve had taken it in themselves to hide me from all the gossip and emotional turmoil New York had spun from my parents’ divorce. When I was older, I moved further away to another boarding school in Scotland, where the weather was so cold that I actually forgot to feel miserable and enjoyed my time, especially whenever my mates and I snuck out of school grounds to pick up local girls.

I notice Quinn’s silence and saw the look of pity on her face. I shrug it away with a wave of a hand and tell her it was all in the past and I didn’t suffer from any emotional scars. I then threw her a joke (okay it’s a slightly lewd one) about her doing one thing that could cheer me up and then the sad mood disappears. Like clockwork, she changes the topic because I know that my presence and our underlying mutual attraction to each other distress her. As if I haven’t noticed the way she checks me out?! I’m not exactly one to toot my own horn, but I love the way she looks at me. Like I’m the only one who has the ability to affect her the same way she affects me.

“So were you able to track your brother?”

“I haven’t had much luck because I haven’t spent as much time in McKinley High.”

“What’s his name?”

“Neil.” Quinn’s shakes her head saying that she doesn’t recall anyone with that name.

“If ever he does go to McKinley, he’s probably in the sophomore class. You said that your mother left you when you were eight, so that would make him a year younger than me. If he looks anything like you, I would have noticed.”

I raise my eyebrow as I take in the soft blonde hair that falls nicely on her beautifully perfect face as her eyes widen at the realization of what she said earlier. A faint reddish blush escapes those delicately molded cheeks. It takes a huge restraint on my part not to touch her and feel if that silky fire beneath her porcelain skin, to touch it and know whether that velvet-soft skin feels warm or if it would burn my skin.

“What I meant was, I would notice him because he would look like you since he’s your brother.” She was stammering and avoiding my gaze. I start to wonder if anyone in her school has ever made her feel this flustered. I suddenly get this jealous jolt through my body thinking of some inexperienced, small town dweeb from that school who has the same ability. I dismiss the thought because whoever that motherfucker is, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.

Whoa easy there, Hargreave.

I remember my little sister, Chelsea telling me this interesting theory of hers that men turn into Neanderthals when it comes to their women. We were going through her studies and she read me a poem called “The Cave girl” by Mae West when she had voiced out her opinion. Now that I think of it, perhaps maybe I am a caveman after all. All I need now is a big club.

“So does that mean you’re going to help me?”

“I can do the best I can. But Glee club isn’t the most attractive club for teenagers. I’m no longer a cheerleader, as you know so the other way is to form a Christian Praise group. I’m going to call it, the God Squad.” “What makes you think my brother is the Church going folk?” I try to smother a laugh as Quinn throws me a dark look.

“It isn’t fun to make a joke out of religion and God.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I respect the whole concept that people put their faith into God and all.” “But...” She waits for me to respond because she just knows I’m going to say more.

“But nothing. Look, let’s just drop this Quinn. I think it’s cool that you‘re trying to help me. But I want to be more hands on and find a way that I can get close to my brother. He isn’t aware that he has family. I doubt my mother would want to cause him any grief about what happened between her and my father. I also know that my mother would never make my brother bear any hatred towards my father even though what he did was rather....cold.”

“Tell me more about your mother,” Quinn implores. I did my best to recount the information I’ve gathered about her. As it was, Lisa Mae Sheridan had been a ballet dancer. Not essentially talented, according to the reviews, but she was unquestionably beautiful and the audience could never take their eyes off her when she danced. I tried to recall the ones mentioned by the reviews and articles, because I had blocked most of my memories of her and the only thing remaining of her was a scrapbook of the articles that she kept and left for me so I would never forget her. My mother tried her hand at Broadway musicals where the critics panned her acting, but praised her legs. She was glamorous as she was beautiful. The gossip columns hinted that she had serious romances with A-list celebrity stars like George Clooney before he was famous and that famous director, Quentin Tarantino. But the article that she saved for last was when she married by father with an elated look on her face as she ran down the cathedral steps whilst she held on to his arm as a people showered them with white petals.

The marriage lasted nine years. Long enough for my mother to get pregnant with me within the first year of their marriage and have a sleazy affair with a polo player. She left my father to return to her hometown when he discovered her and the said tryst.

I carefully omitted the word “Polo player” and replace it with something like a sleazy neighbor because I don’t want Quinn to feel as uneasy with me if she finds out that I come from money. Actually, I re-hash most of the entire story and tell her instead that my mother was a former ballet dancer from Ohio who chose to marry my boring, workaholic father over George Clooney. Several years later, she decided that she had enough of domestic life. Out of spite, she made my father believe that she was having an affair with the dodgy gay neighbor.

Beyond that, I knew little of my mother. I then later relayed that the whole incident between my mother and the polo player was a misunderstanding because it turned out that he was gay and was a close friend of my mother’s. But alas, living the way we do where society gossip mongers would do anything to destroy something so pure as true love, my father fell for it and threw her out of the house without any explanation from her side.

He then filed for divorce and took full custody of me. My dad would have pulled out every political influence he could so he could file a restraining order and get sole custody of me. In the end, it turned out that he didn’t have to resort to anything for my mother hadn’t bothered to wait for the court hearing, nor did she oppose him. Instead, she signed the divorce papers and told the lawyer that she forgives my father and loved me very much.

When my father had realized his mistake, he was too proud to beg for forgiveness.

He died without ever seeing my mother again.

I knew she was going to ask a lot of questions. I patiently answered each. I’m not exactly the sharing type of person when it comes to personal stuff. In fact, no one has ever dared probe on this topic. I usually brush snooping journalists off and dazzle them with my charm, but somehow, some profound feeling that I choose to ignore right now, I want Quinn to understand this part of my life. I sure as hell haven’t been honest about a lot of things, but there’s this tug at my conscience that wants me to give her some compensation for the other lies.

Well, they’re not technically lies. I just chose to omit some important details such as my net worth, my wealthy social background, you know those things.

“Did your father ever remarry?”

“He remarried a couple of times, but they never worked out. I guess he wasn’t completely over my mother. I did gain a step-sister out of his attempts. She’s thirteen and a real pain in the ass.” I roll my eyes laughing as I tell her about Chelsea.

“Does she know about Neil?”

“I think she has an idea, Chelsea’s a pretty resourceful kid.”

“Who raised you after?”

“No one and everyone. My great grandmother acted as my legal guardian.”

“That sounds pretty harsh.” I shrug it off nonchalantly. “It’s the way things have always been, Quinn. I was in boarding school most of the time. Parental supervision was mostly provided by the faculty. I pretty much grew up around adults most of my life.”

“It sounds pretty lonely.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t suffer from any emotional scars. In fact, I think it was probably the best thing to do given my situation. You deal with what you have to deal with. I can take care of myself. It’s Neil I’m worried about.”

I breathe in and exhale deeply. “A few months ago, after I had found out about my brother I did a background check on my mother’s family.” I frown and shake my head. “They aren’t doing so well. My aunt...my mother’s twin sister, lives in one of the toughest neighborhoods and I can’t imagine what life is like for my brother. I read from the reports that he’s a lot like me and it just eats my conscience knowing that I’ve been living in luxury and he’s been having it rough. He deserves much better, Quinn. He needs to know what really happened. I know it sounds cruel to break it down to him now that he’s much older, but I’d be damned to just stand there and do nothing.”

I look down at my hands.

“I’m not going to leave him like my dad. I’m nothing like him at all.” I mutter despairingly, unaware if Quinn could hear the last part. I’ve never in my entire life felt guilty for living the way I do. I had earned whatever billions of dollars I’ve made, I had worked my ass off twice as harder than anyone to become the person I am today, and I knew in my heart that my brother deserves to have the same privilege I had. I never meant to say it out loud that this situation was making me feel like crap. I hate getting emotional over things like this and right now I could use a drink. Or a cigarette if I still smoked. I kicked the habit a year ago and I wasn’t going to start again, knowing that it was also the cause of my grandfather’s demise.

Suddenly, Quinn reaches out her hand and I feel her dainty fingers try to cover mine. She looks into my eyes and reassures me that we would find my brother.

Heaven help me, my palm is starting to twitch from the warm fuzzies.

Suddenly, I’m feeling much better.

Then it occurs to me that I am not a warm fuzzies kind of man.

But I’ll make an exception whenever she touches me.

***

Chapter 9: Quinn

The next day is a whirl of excitement.

My mother and sister are going away for the week on a Mother-Daughter excursion. The local church raffled tickets to a Cruise trip to the Bahamas and they had just announced a few days ago that my mother won. They had to leave today. My father had a business trip to Texas and they decide to hire Iain to watch over me for the week.

I’m reeling from the news.

I also realize that I’ve gone down from my room only to be told by my Mom while Iain’s sitting on the breakfast bar. He’s wearing a cream collared long sleeved pullover shirt, dark olive green cotton military trousers and dark gray Chelsea leather boots. There’s a hint of facial stubble as I notice how his five o’clock shadow looks amazing on him, making Iain look more mature, sophisticated with this “I-can-still-look-hot-even-if-I-don’t-have-the-time-to-shave” attitude. I usually prefer clean shaven men, but he pulls it off so well that I’m more than willing to make an exception. He gives me a knowing smile and I blush furiously because I’m still in my nightgown. It’s an oversized mint green shirt that reaches a little above my knees with the words “Bear Hug” emblazoned above. The shirt depicts a huge black bear that looks like it’s hugging me with its paws strategically placed on each of my butt cheeks. At least I’m not wearing my plush Unicorn slippers, which was my Christmas gift from Britney because I could have died right here and there.

“That’s nice, Mom.” I nod, as if without a care in the world. “Good morning, Iain.”

“Good morning,” he murmurs not taking his eyes off the bear. I curse myself because I’m not wearing a bra underneath.

“You better get dressed, Iain will take you to school.” My mother kisses my cheek quickly. Iain steps off his stool and turns to help my mother with her bags. Fran’s outside waiting patiently. They strode off in minutes and I make a beeline to the bathroom.

I shower quickly and choose to wear something that’ll make me look sophisticated and not trying too hard. I go for a collared white lace blousy dress with a slightly open v-neck with holes designed like paisleys then top it off with a yellow and white headband. Then I get a leather chunky belt and cinch it to the middle and accentuate the whole outfit with chunky-heeled brown and white Oxfords. I always wear my gold cross as a reminder of my faith and hopefully, God will erase Iain’s earlier memory of me and that Bear Hug shirt when he finds me wearing this.

As I make my way down, Iain is on his mobile phone. He’s rolled up his pullover at the sleeves and I get a good glimpse of those bronzed muscled forearms and his hands as he mindlessly twirls a pen around his strong, masculine fingers. I watch as my mouth goes dry wondering what those hands would feel like running through my hair and how that stubble on his chin would feel against my skin.

“And the accounts on Strasbourg?” he asks, still on the phone. “Great. Inform Miller and tell him to send me a copy through e-mail.”

There’s a long pause. He listens attentively, his handsome features focused and determined as he coolly nods as to whatever exchange was going on the other line.

“Yes. Call the Washington office and relay to labor relations the news about Detroit. They’re bound to have the same problems as well.” He says calmly on the phone.

I don’t feel comfortable listening in on his conversation so I go upstairs and pretend that I’m going down for the first time. His head jerks up suddenly and he mutters on the other line before he kills the call.

“Hi,” I say a little too brightly.

“Hi there,” he nods, completely oblivious to what I’m wearing. Great plan impressing him Quinn, he’s completely stunned my Cheerio cheerleader sneers. You should have worn the uniform. Men just love cheerleaders. Oh, which reminds me you aren’t one anymore. The inner bitch queen is laughing at the snide remark.

He looks a bit nervous. “Did you just get down? I’m really sorry I wasn’t able to make you breakfast. It’s a little too early for school and your dad’s given me a bunch of errands to do, so do you want to grab something to eat? It’s my treat.” He looks so adorable when he’s blabbering his head off I can’t resist him.

I nod wordlessly, thinking about the call he made earlier. What does he do during his free time, I wonder. A while ago, he was oddly formal and businesslike when he made that call that I started to doubt if there were any UPS chains in a Europe, like particularly in Strasbourg. I don’t think the UPS stores my Dad works for had a branch beyond the United States, but then what did I know about delivery services?

“Sure.” I just say. He extends his arm and motions me for something. “What is it?” I ask eyeing him dubiously.

“Your bag, please Ma’am,” Iain answers dryly. He is offering to carry my bag.

Aw, how sweet.

“I can carry it, thanks.”

“Then let me hold it for you while you put on your sweater.” He nods to the yellow mustard cardigan I’m clutching on my other arm. “It’s nippy outside. I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

I roll my eyes and hand him my school bag as I wear my sweater. It doesn’t have any holes to button them in so I leave it open. Before I can take my bag from him, Iain turns around quickly and heads off for the garage. I trot along his wake not without first admiring his broad shoulders and his butt. Okay I know, I admit it. I maybe a conservative Christian, but I’m also a girl who knows when to appreciate a handsome sexy man with an amazing body and Iain’s is just perfect. He’s sinewy, lean and muscular all over and it’s obvious that the man does work out.

The gorgeous Adonis opens my bags and looks for my keys. He switches off the alarm and we both climb inside my red Volkswagen Beetle. He settles himself adjusting the seat to his tall frame as his takes out an iPod from his jacket and plugs it in. He backs the car easily and we both drive in silence.

It’s also ironic that the first song to be played on his iPod reflects on our mood. It’s a rock tune that’s dominated by the sound of the piano and drums (how typical Iain) with a male singer, ostentatiously British, crooning about how Silence is Easy.

“I guess my iPod’s not a morning person,” Iain remarks as he throws me a sideways glance. I giggle in spite of myself, my shoulders shaking in mirth while I bite my lower lip from bursting in laughter. He looks at me sternly, his eyes on my lips and my jaw drops. He instantly sits up and focuses again on the road with a smirk on his face “You must think I’m a boring stiff with a playlist filled with piano classics.”

“Actually, I also thought of the Beatles and other old music old people listen to.”

Iain snorts and rolls his eyes as he hands me the iPod list. “Go pick a song. I’ll have you know that I do possess an eclectic taste in music.”

I thumb across the dial to find a bunch of artists ranging from different rock genres, hip-hop, and pop music. I hastily thumb through the collections of albums from Radiohead, Sting, U2, Bob Marley, Bloc Party, Stone Temple Pilots, John Legend, and other big name bands which he has most if not all the albums. I also notice he listens to trip hop and dance music. Then, I see his classic collection of Bach, Mozart, Rachmaninoff, and Ryuichi Sakamoto. He even has a bunch of Renaissance music with Thomas Tallis, Alonso Lobo and William Byrd. I’ve probably listened to Spem Alium like several times after seeing it on the Tudors because I was crushing on Charles Brandon big time. Iain sort of reminds me of the actor that played the dashing Duke of Suffolk, both men are ridiculously gorgeous for their own good.

“It’s getting pretty quiet on my end here, Quinn.”

“Hold on to your boxer shorts, I’m still finding a good song.” I answer irritably.

“Mighty feisty in the morning, aren’t we?” He chuckles as he makes a U-turn when the car comes around a bend.

“I’m hungry.”

“So am I. But unlike you, at least I know when to curb my temper. Here, let me try.” He grabs the iPod from my hands and quickly scans the playlist. I’m amazed he’s able to do this while he keeps his eyes on the road. “To atone for the earlier song selection,” he adds as he presses on a button when the song ends.

The song starts out in a soft drum beat and bass. The female singer has the most unusual voice; it’s a mezzo-soprano with a voice that resonates like she’s emotional and about to cry. I love the way she delivers the song because she sounds as if she's shivering. The effect is astounding, as the music is light, dreamy, and ethereal. She’s like a goddess from outer space. Or an alien singing underwater like one of those Pilot whales I once saw in Discovery Channel.

“It’s called Beautiful.” Iain throws me another sideways glance, as if reading my thoughts.

“It is beautiful,” I agree as I take the iPod and read the selection. It’s sung by a group called Mandalay. I make a mental note to download it on iTunes soon. We listen to the rest of the song in silence until the next song plays. It’s from the Flaming Lips called Do You Realize?? The upbeat seventies-like tempo changes our somber mood and Iain plies me to talk about me and my family. They’re pretty generic questions and I get this impression that he’s doing this so I would relax. It turns out to be an effective strategy of his, as I find myself at ease with him and I tell him stories about my other relatives. He’s an attentive listener as he nods his head and smiles at some of the antics my crazy painter grandfather Fabray did during my family’s last visit. I turn to look at him but his eyes are still on the road, his face looks relaxed as he concentrates on his driving.

“So tell me about your plan on how you’re going to find Neil?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I haven’t had the foggiest idea. My last attempt was an epic fail. First, Principal Figgins assigns me as a substitute teacher for the seniors class only to move me to Night school the next day.”

I quirk my eyebrow as I look at him. “Any reason why he would do such a thing?”

Iain looks bewildered. He obviously doesn’t realize how attractive he is, how women stare at him and ogle. Doesn’t he know the effect he has on women?

More importantly, how he affects me?

For some inexplicable reason, this attraction I feel for him cuts out on most of the bullshit drama I used to employ with the other guys from my past. Iain scares me because he makes me feel exposed and vulnerable, yet I can talk freely to him about anything. I get this feeling that the two songs playing are about him. He really is so beautiful. I’d cry like the Mandalay singer and get emotional too, if I had a voice like that.

“It’s beyond me.” He shakes his head. The song skips and moves into another livelier tune. It’s an upbeat remix of Empire of the Sun’s Walking on a Dream. I loved the original, but I’m amazed that Iain’s found a good dubstep version of it. He turns the car to the left and we arrived to IHop. I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

Iain laughs as he shuts the engine off. “What? You got something against IHOP?” He looks momentarily worried. “We can go somewhere else, if you like.”

I shake my head. “I just can’t imagine you eating in IHop.” Actually, what I was really thinking that was our first ‘sort of date’ unofficial date and out of all the choices of where to dine, it’s at IHOP. It’s not really a date, I quickly remind myself. I could have cooked my own breakfast, but somehow Iain has taken it up on himself to provide me with that. It’s a thrilling feeling, but I also feel like it’s a backhanded thing because it also means he get to treat me like a child.

Iain gives me an incredulous look. He cross his eyebrows and rolls his eyes as he ambles out of the car.

“Come on, you’ll be late for school at this rate.”

We enter the restaurant with the smell of buttermilk pancakes and fried food wafting in the air. My stomach grumbles in response. I don’t know if Iain possesses superhuman hearing, because he looks slightly peeved and motions me to sit on a booth near the window.

“I used to come to IHOP when I was studying for my exams in Harvard,” he explains as he takes a seat across me. “There were times when I went with my roommates to Denny’s but I like the food here better.” He shrugs as a waitress in her early thirties approaches us. Her name is something I don’t really pay attention to because she’s looking at Iain like he’s the breakfast that’s about to be served. My eyes narrow in jealousy as I cross my arms while Iain mulls over the menu without even looking at her.

“We’ll have two orders of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, and coffee with the works.” I answer her with daggers glistening from my eyes.

“Yeah, that’ll do. Thanks.” Iain agrees and I’m rewarded with one of his dashing smiles. I flush with joy because his full attention is centered on me. Jane (I finally notice the name tag) writes down both orders before she sends out a long sigh and walks away.

“You seem pissed about something.” Iain remarks as he leans back against his seat and looks at me speculatively.

“That girl was looking at you like you were the main course.”

“Quinn Fabray, are you jealous?” Iain teases as his face lights up in mock surprise. I note how his blue eyes are dancing mischievously like he’s thrilled about the whole thing.

“No,” I snap angrily. “Stop laughing at me. I’m serious! It’s the way you affect women. Haven’t you noticed? Or are you just completely blind?”

“It’s just looks,” he answers exasperatedly as he throws both hands in the air in surrender because he can’t help himself with that situation. And he’s right, he can’t.

“Please tell me you do notice.”

“Yes, I have. But I’ve learned long ago that they don’t matter. Believe me, when you get to be around my age, you’ll learn not to care.”

“When you get to be around my age? Wow, you sound old.”

Iain bursts out laughing like a loon. I notice some people turn around and look at us with this stunned expression on their faces. Like as if they couldn’t believe I’ve just made this beautiful man laugh his head off. After a few moments, he settles down.

“You’re very relaxing company, do you know that?” He gives me one of those signature panty-dropping smiles of his and it’s a good thing we’re sitting down because I’m beginning to feel weak at the knees already.

“Are you prevaricating?”

“No, I meant every word.” He looks pensive for a while, reflecting on something. “I just didn’t realize how tense I was until now. Your vocabulary is astounding, by the way.”

I almost shake myself from the rapid switch of topics and his compliment. I compose myself before I get another absence episode.

“Well, I do like to read.” Jane is back with our food. She takes the longest time to serve Iain first and I glare at her. Iain is looking at me with a salacious smile on his face, reading into my thoughts. He appears as if my jealous rage gives him some perverse joy. He barely notices Jane waiting anxiously for him to acknowledge her. He just smiles at me, his eyes never leaving my face and mutters his thanks to her with a wave of dismissal when she’s finally done placing down my order. Jane obviously looks disappointed as she strolls back to the counter.

“What books do you like to read?”

“Just about anything. When I was younger I didn’t have a lot of friends because I looked studious so I took comfort in books. When I was a kid, I found myself reading Fran’s assignment books. But what I enjoy nowadays are world legends and fairy tales. I’ve always thought there was something romantic about the Japanese Feudalism too. The story about Samurais and Geishas always gets to me. Lately, I’ve been reading Indian mythology.” I hesitate when Iain regards me in silence while he eats.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” I turn my attention to my plate and start scarfing down my pancakes.

Iain shakes his head. “Not at all. In fact, I find you to be the most interesting person I’ve been with for the longest time. I can’t even remember being this enthralled by anyone at all,” he looks surprised with himself as the words come out his mouth, like he’s just discovered this fact too. He shakes his head suddenly, as if to cover himself with that remarkable discovery. “So the answer is no, you haven’t bored me at all. Why the fascination with Indian myth? I’m assuming this is the South Asian culture you’re talking about?”

My heart slams into my rib cage at the impact of his confession of me being the most interesting person he’s met.

“Uhm, yes.” I almost choke at my pancake and take a long sip of orange juice while I continue.

“I guess it all started with my fascination for elephants. When I was a little girl, my dad took me to the local zoo. There was this elephant named Raja that was brought in from India a few weeks before we visited. People would bring their kids to see him. He was a beautiful white elephant, the rarest of their kind. He was just magnificent. When we visited him, there were other children offering him peanuts and I knew I didn’t stand a chance of him noticing me. I was chubby, wore glasses and had braces.”

I exhale as Iain regards me in silence. He’s done with his food and sips his coffee as I continue. “But he noticed me. He approached me and reached his trunk out and took my peanut. He didn’t want what the other kids were offering, he just wanted mine. Then he reached his trunk again and briefly touched my hand almost as if he sensed I was lonely and in that time frame, I could sense that he too was feeling the same way. We looked at each other for a moment and I just felt....connected to him. I know it sounds crazy, but it felt like magic. Then his trainer shouts a command which he then turns away, not before sending me another lonely glance. Like he was thanking me for even the briefest moment that we shared together and that it had meant just as much to him like it did me. I begged my dad that we should visit him again, but it took him a long while before he complied. When I did, Raja was gone. The zookeepers said that he was transferred to another bigger facility because he was miserable and wasn’t eating well. I never saw him again.”

I wave my hand to shake off the gloomy mood. “Anyway, going back to elephants in general. They’re my favorite animals in the world. Other people like dogs and cats, but I’ve always thought that they’re too clingy and being around them can be claustrophobic. Elephants on the other hand are independent. They’re big enough to take care of themselves. They’ve gone by without our help for thousands of years. I have this theory that they choose to be tamed rather than the other way around.”

“Or maybe it’s the human that ends up being tamed?” Iain suggests softly, his tender smile tells me that he wholeheartedly understands.

I sagely nod in agreement, ignoring the rapid beating of my heart. “Maybe.”

A long moment of companionable repartee follows. I allow myself to listen to Iain as he talks about his time as a boy growing up in England before his parents’ divorce. He said that he moved with his great grandmother, who by the way sounds like a real terror dragon lady. When I voice out my opinion, he laughs and nods saying that people have the same impression whenever they meet her. He tells me stories about how his father remarried Chelsea’s mother, who was a flighty thing that never cared about her daughter’s welfare and that soon after their divorce, Iain’s father immediately adopted her and took sole custody. I listen to him tell me stories about the times when his grandfather was alive and how they used to spend hours at a time playing songs on the piano. I also find out that Iain can also plays the guitar and because of his upbringing, he can speak French, Spanish, and Gaelic because his great grandmother is Scottish and insisted that he learn the language.

I enjoy so much of his time that I barely notice that I’m almost late for school. When Iain realizes this, he swears a mouthful before he ends up paying for the bill, leaving a huge tip for Jane and we hurriedly head back to the car. He drives the car in anxious silence and we come across the grounds of William McKinley High.

“I’m really sorry about that.” He looks sheepish and nervous when he puts the car on neutral. “It won’t happen again.” Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t exchange that moment for anything in the world.

“I had fun.” I tell him, rewarding him with a shy smile. I don’t know what it is about him. He’s such a complex character, full of layers and is so dynamic that I wonder how I manage to keep up with him. I reflect in that moment that maybe it’s because of this that it cuts out all the bullshit and the only thing we have left is honestly.

“Yeah, me too.” Iain agrees somberly, giving me a half-smile that I think is his own way of giving out an equally genuine shy smile. I realize he’s reluctant to leave. I also don’t want to leave either, but Lucy Caboosey is dragging my bag and my books to school.

Suddenly, an idea pops in my head. Brain blast! I can take my tea and eat my cake too.

“Listen, do you have anything to do after you’re done running errands for my dad? I have this brilliant idea on how you can get back to school and find Neil.”

Iain raises his eyebrows. “Okay,” he says slowly. “What’s your plan? I could go along with it tomorrow.”

I tell him.

* **

“So this is your good idea of a cover-up?” Iain leans over to me and whispers suspiciously as he scans the auditorium after briefly making introductions. Since that fateful night when he found me doing afterhours schoolwork, he quit his job at night school to spend more time with me. I told him that he could cover for our school pianist, Brad, who was suffering from a bad case of gastroenteritis. I was also able to convince Mr Schuster that Iain was a gifted musician and of his plans to do Juilliard in the future. Mr Schu pretty much ate up anything since nothing was going to deter him from winning Nationals.

I ignore the shivers running down my spine as I feel his breath on my face as he leaned down to whisper that comment. He looks divine in a three button collared grey pullover sweater that’s unbuttoned and open, revealing his black undershirt, distressed blue jeans that match his eyes, and a pair of chocolate brown boots that makes him look like a Hollywood superstar that just landed on LAX. Yes, this macho hunk drives me to school every day for one week and I can pretend that he’s following me around today like a lovesick puppy. My inner queen bitch is thrilled as I smile triumphantly while we pass the hallway side by side. I can see from my peripheral vision that all the girls are gawking at him, mouths wide open, drooling with lust. Iain doesn’t notice a thing and his attention is focused on me while he waits for me to answer him.

He’s mine, bitches, all mine!!! My inner queen bitch is chanting gaily while doing the cabbage patch.

“Do you want to see your brother or not? I got you off from working at night school so the least you can do is thank me.” I pick up my pace and hurriedly take my seat while Iain looks on. He shrugs and settles in, introducing himself to the other band members. They nod and shake his hand. When all introductions were made, he resumes back to his position by the piano.

Mr Schuester looks stressed. He drones on about winning Sectionals and goes on about the winning pieces he wants to use. Tension is building up and I can see it’s not just Mr. Schue who’s feeling the brunt. Finn has been non-stop confrontational since Blaine moved out of his old school. Rachel is, well, Rachel Berry as usual.

I note Tina and Sugar gaping at Iain as he, unmindful that he has an audience, ruffles through some of this week’s suggested song selections. I turn around and see Kurt and Blaine with the same dreamy look on their faces. A slight pang of jealousy flows through me as I watch Rachel scurry down over to Iain blabbering on what songs she would sing and questioning Iain’s capability to keep up with her talent when a gritty voice breaks my thoughts.

“Is it me, or are you threatened that someone might steal away your boyfriend?” Noah Puckerman asks as he is seated behind me and leans forwards, regarding me sardonically with those dark green eyes. I notice Iain out of my peripheral vision, turn to look towards our direction, barely listening to a word Rachel says. I ignore the hostile look on Iain’s handsome face as I lean against my chair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply cooly, keeping my gaze straight ahead of me. Iain seems more in tune with my conversation with Puck. Rachel barely has a clue that he isn’t even listening to a word she says. He curtly nods, politely dismissing her by giving one of those signature Iain Hargreave disarming, panty-dropping smile of his, which Rachel responds with a gasp and a blush escaping her cheeks as she turns and darts quickly back to her place. Finn is looking both at Rachel and Iain like he just swallowed a whole bottle of vinegar. Iain resolutely ignores Finn’s glowering gaze and turns his attention to Puck. Neither men are backing down from the stare down that it’s so immature, I almost roll my eyes.

“Oh, really? “ Puck scoffs as he continues on with his staring match against Iain. As much as this might seem like a turn on, having two boys fight over me, it isn’t. I was worried that if Iain lost his cool, he would blow up his cover and then his hopes of finding Neil would then be futile. Turns out, I didn’t have to worry because Iain responds to Puck’s menacing appraisal by looking bored, almost unaffected.

“Then tell me why is he looking at me like he’s about to beat the crap out of me?”

“I didn’t know you were so scared.”

“I’d watch it if I were you,” Puck looks at me seriously. “I know guys like him. The ones that think they’re God’s gift to women, being so perfect on the outside but rotten to the core. At least with me, I’m all what you get.”

“And you’ll never get that chance ever again, so please drop it.”

“Fine, whatever you say, your Highness.”

Iain starts playing a song selection called Famous by a British Indie band, Scouting for Girls. Blaine carries it off beautifully as always. Iain looks so comfortable on the piano, with his masculine hands dancing away as Blaine croons to the catchy retro 80’s beat. I remember this song blasting from Iain’s iPod when he dropped me off earlier. “You’re going to snap your neck doing that,” Iain teased, almost gently, when he noticed me bobbing my head to the music. If ever I had doubts that Iain couldn’t play a pop song, they dissipate as he looks capable and even sings along to it. He’s got a pretty decent voice too, I sigh as I tilt my head to look at him while he sings merrily along to the tune. I don’t care if the other girls in the New Directions have wistful looks on their faces, even Santana looks mildly interested. I get to go home with him for a week, I grin triumphantly. I watch with glee while Iain practically enjoys himself; his normally icy cool demeanor relaxes as he tinkers those black and white keys without a care in the world.

I compare him to the other guys in the room and find that he is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. He’s tall, maybe two inches shorter than Finn, but definitely taller than Sam. Unlike Finn, who is awkward with his towering height, Iain is comfortable with his own body. His movements remind me of a sleek panther: graceful, agile, athletic and almost predatory. Fortunately, unlike Blaine who is the second best looking guy present in the room, Iain isn’t gay.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy could dance as well as Mike Chang. He is definitely not naive. He looks worldly and yet could appear affable, being just as comfortable in a myriad of people from different social classes. He possesses a hint of rebellion like Puck, but unlike the former who screams danger, Iain’s aura whispers it. He seems to have also gained appreciation from Artie and the new Irish kid who has taken a shine on him. He emanates sexiness which I now understand why Principal Figgins moved him to teach Night Classes because he served as a distraction for every hormonally induced teenage girl.

It wasn’t until the meeting was over that I was approached by Rachel in the bathroom. I was busy fixing myself in front of the mirror when she settles in beside me.

“So that was Iain.”

“What about it?” I ask as I applied mascara. I knew gossip flowed about me having him as my legal guardian. Since my mother and Fran had decided to go on a Mothers & Daughters for Christ Cruise to the Bahamas, Iain’s been living with me. How my father has approved of this has again baffled me, but at least Iain keeps his end of the bargain by acting like a gentleman because he sleeps on the living room couch.

Since that incident when he found me doing night school, he’s also volunteered to drive me to school and bring me home. I would have protested, but he’s persistent, saying that since my dad has given him a list of things to do, it’s convenient in his part. I agree to meet him halfway at the Beanery, which was a few blocks from school, that way people wouldn’t take it the wrong way and think that I was living in sin with a man who is just as sinful as the devil himself.

“He’s very handsome.”

“You plan on stealing him too like you did with Finn?” I turn to face her and instantly regret the words that pop out of my mouth. I know that we may never get along given our history, but that never meant that we weren’t friends. Rachel has long tried to be one for me even though I always found a way to rebuke her. She quickly waves off her hand when I try to apologize.

“I meant to say that Iain is handsome but he isn’t my type because he intimidates me. He reminds me of Damon from Vampire Diaries. Tall, dark hair, intense blue eyes, gorgeous male model looks but really scary as a whole package. I also see the way you look at him and I know you like him a lot and that you might have, um, feelings for him. I also see the way he looks at you, Quinn. He’s crazy about you.”

“He barely pays me any attention.” I try to look bored but my heart is racing like I’ve been running a marathon. Iain has feelings for me? It sounds so ridiculous I could barely fathom the guy being the hearts and flowers type going down on one knee and proclaiming his undying love for me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t fantasize about him doing it. I just didn’t think that was.....possible.

I’ve seen the way Iain reacts when I’m around like he can’t get enough of me and that alone jolts my system and puts my senses into overdrive. I know he can tell that I feel the same way too, but somehow he doesn’t act on it because he hesitates like he seriously believes that his profoundly lacking.

In the short span of time I’ve spent with him, my ego has grown into bigger proportions that I know Iain genuinely likes me.

It would be easy to believe that I wasn’t pretty enough, sophisticated or classy for this red-blooded handsome debonair modern day Disney prince, but I knew that wasn’t true.

I can read just as much through his own bullshit as he can mine, which is surprising because with Finn, Puck, and Sam they could never tell what I’m thinking. It isn’t like that with Iain. He scares, excites, thrills me more than any man I’ve ever met. But there are things about him that he keeps to himself, just like me. We’ve been so jaded from our past that there’s this brick wall that’s stopping us from ever revealing our feelings. It’s so frustrating sometimes that I think it’s impossible to pursue a relationship with anyone who’s remotely like me.

“That’s because he knows you’re also looking at him. He stares at you whenever he gets the chance. He smiles when you smile or laugh at something funny. And he seems nice, Quinn apart from the fact that he looks pissed most of the time. Maybe if you could find your way past everything that happened to you and –“

“I appreciate your concern, Rachel, but I don’t need your advice.” I frostily answer as I turn and leave the bathroom. As I make my way down the hall, I notice a tall young man with a shock of jet black hair walking past by. He’s well over six feet in height and was just as imposing as someone whom I know so well that I breathe inward in my excited state.

It is Iain’s younger brother!

It wasn’t that hard to track him down as his muscular frame is visible through the crowd. I notice some girls in Cheerio uniforms giving him the same appreciative glances as they do with Iain. Good looks definitely run in the family, I grimace as I follow him move out of the school grounds.

He continues to amble easily and heads towards the field and out to the parking lot. He then approaches a white top down convertible and the look of horror settles on me as the dark tinted windows roll down as he laughs while giving out high fives to a bunch of boys his age wearing familiar dark blue blazers with red trimmings.

Neil wasn’t just a student at McKinley High.

He’s from Dalton Academy!

I watch from the shadows as he exchanges a few words to the boys whom I assume are his team mates because they look just as buff as Iain’s imposing younger brother. After a few minutes, the car makes its quiet exit out of the school grounds. He turns his head sideways as if to check for any witnesses and saunters his way back to campus as if nothing out of the usual happened. From the time that I’ve stalked Neil, I already make out a few differences and compare them to his implausible older brother.

Neil is handsome, broad-shouldered and long legged like his brother. Unlike Iain, Neil is taller by a few more inches and I’m guessing he’s around the same height as Finn if not taller. Also, unlike Iain, his younger brother is more muscular and looks to be even older than his given sixteen years.

In fact, he has the same intimidating pose as Iain as I note that they share the same good looks except I find Iain far more attractive, because of his leaner physique, angular jaw line, and smooth cultured refined stance while his brother looks tough, capable and just a tad angry with this “don’t mess with me” vibe.

I couldn’t quite make out the color of his eyes as his dark, almost black hair and eyebrows hood his similar almond shaped piercing gaze. I laugh at myself thinking how similar and yet different both brothers are. Iain has the old Hollywood glamour of a Dolce & Gabbana male model while his brother looks fit to be a cast member from Friday Night Lights. Not that it’s a bad thing, I actually find myself intrigued at the thought of another Hargreave that I walk towards Neil who stops by his locker with his back facing me when I gently tap his shoulder.

He turns around and I find myself staring at the most fascinating pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. His eyes were blue on the outer layer but with a central golden-brown ring on the middle of his iris that reminds me of what the rays of the sun would look on a clear blue sky. It’s a beautiful contrast against his dark almost midnight black hair and bronze skin.

Neil notices that I’m staring and stalling time that he initiates the conversation. I duly note that he’s equally as charming and suave as his brother. Instead of feeling flustered as I always do with the mercurial Iain whose mood flits from calm to stormy, I find myself at ease, relaxing to his much affable, calmer younger brother when he laughs at my reaction.

“It’s called central heterochromia. It’s a rare genetic condition where both eyes share two different colors. My name’s Neil by the way.” He extends his hand as if to shake it.

I take his hand and shake it. “I’m Quinn. Quinn Fabray”

He surprises me by bowing down and kissing my hand. I quickly retract it as he chuckles to himself, taking in what I could imagine was an image of myself blushing from the end of my roots.

“To what do I owe this pleasure of meeting you on this fine afternoon, Miss Fabray?” Neil raises his eyebrows as he gives off a signature Hargreave lazy smile that was designed to knock women off their feet and drop their panties.

Perfect. Are all Hargreave men this charming and devastatingly handsome? I could almost envision what their father was like when he was alive. If he was anything like his two sons, it wouldn’t be a wonder why their mother chose him over George Clooney.

“I was wondering if you’re new here. I haven’t seen you around in school. Are you a sophomore?”

“Junior,” he corrected. “I skipped a grade. And to answer your question yes, I did move in recently with my aunt so I’ve been in McKinley High for a month.”

I was about to ask him how he was adjusting and as if he read my thoughts, he again quirked a dark eyebrow at me and tilted his head. “Are you worried about me adjusting to my status as the new kid? Fear not, sweetheart. I’m pretty capable of taking care of myself.”

I’m sure you are, I think to myself noting the rippled muscular arms. I also notice a few people looking curiously at us, wondering why a dethroned blonde high school cheerleader was talking to a junior.

“Are you going to try out for any clubs? Because a couple of my friends and I are in the school’s glee club are we’re looking for new members. We won 12th place last year in Nationals and we could use some new blood.”

“As much as I would love to, I’m tone deaf.” He says in a deadpan voice, but I know he’s joking as I gaze into those almond eyes that crinkle in amusement and I watch in wonder as the brown circles have turned golden. “The only chance you’ll ever hear me sing is in the shower. Not unless you want to join me, I could definitely do a private audition.” He grins and winks suggestively as I roll my eyes and find myself chuckling at his humorous attempt to flirt.

“Nice try, Neil. I’m a staunch believer in sex after marriage.”

Neil clucks apologetically and shrugs his massive shoulders. “It was worth a shot. I can imagine a lot of guys whose hearts have been broken by the news.”

My thoughts suddenly turn to Iain but I dismiss them quickly.

“How about you try joining me and my friends in Bible study group instead?” I tilt my head and look at him earnestly, desperately trying to win him over. He hesitates for a moment and my persistence finally pays off because he exhales and nods curtly.

“My, you don’t ever give up do you? Alright, I’ll join you. I’ve been going through plenty of shit these days I could probably need some Divine guidance. But, on one condition.“ he cuts me off before I even ask him more.

“I take you out for dinner.”

I found myself wondering if Iain was this persistent and as amorous when he was Neil’s age. But then again, the only “date” I ever had with him was last night when he ordered pizza and we had our dinner in front of the television watching History documentaries. Iain is a closet Discovery Channel freak and I also happen to like documentaries. I keep up with the latest shows by reading the synopsis on the internet for blending in purposely.

“How about you meet me for coffee at the Beanery after Bible school? Meetings are every Wednesdays at five.”

“Fine. So I’ll see you tomorrow. Then after that, it’s a date.” Neil gives off another one of those lazy smiles.

“It’s just coffee, Neil.” I warn him as he laughs and slams his locker door before heading off for class.

I run hurriedly home excited with the news I can’t wait to break for Iain. Though he offers to pick me off and drive me to school, I call him to assume him that I was hitching a ride with Tina. I imagine a vision of him shrugging nonchalantly at the other end and tells me that dinner will be ready by the time I get home. He waits until I hang up and I go home, giddy and excited.

I rush into the house and look for him. He’s nowhere to be seen. I hear the lilting notes of the piano and saunter off to the living room where his back is turned. He’s just had a bath, I notice that his hair is still damp and I assume that he’s probably had his afternoon run, which he usually does before he picks me up from school. He’s wearing a black shirt that fits snugly on his lean muscular torso and faded distressed jeans that hangs low in his waist in a very sinful way.

He’s completely lost in the music he’s playing. He looks so comfortable, I smile wistfully as I lean against the wall of the entrance door watching him, enraptured by the soothing sound that his long skilled fingers make as he presses the keys. My goes dry, suddenly wondering what those hands would feel running through my hair, my face, my lips.....and the rest of my...

“Good day at school?” Iain asks mildly without turning his head, I am grateful that his voice breaks through my dreamy haze. I make a silent prayer to the Lord for possessing such sinful thoughts. Oh my, how can something as innocent as playing a musical instrument become such a turn on?

“Uhm, yeah. It was okay.” I mentally shake my wayward thoughts, glad that Iain stops playing and turns to face me with a soft smile on his face, as his eyes crinkle merrily.

“Hi there,” he greets warmly, his voice soft and enticing.

“Hi,” I murmur shyly. “What was the title of the song you played earlier? It’s very beautiful.”

Iain tilts his head, mirroring my own. “It’s called Liebesträume No 3.”

“Dreams of Love by Franz Liszt.” I cite off recalling one of the famous classical songs I had once never paid any attention to at school until Iain. Since then, I’ve been googling everything I could learn about classical music. In some weird way, it was the closest thing I’ve tried to do in order to be closer to this highly unpredictable young man who never fails to give me heart palpitations with just one look.

His grin is infectious. “Ah, I see that my classical music influence is rubbing on you.” He scoots over, pats the seat beside me and motions me to sit. I obey and place my hands beside me and tilt my head to look at him.

“Do you know how to play?”

I nod my head and laugh despite myself. “My mom hired a teacher with hopes that Fran or I would learn, but alas, we’re a hopeless bunch.” Iain chuckles and tinkers with a different tune, Polonaise in G minor by Chopin. Iain’s a huge fan of the Polish composer. I’m also not going to admit I have the complete collection downloaded on my iPhone and that I listen to it just to calm my nerves after a heavy stressful day.

“What was your teacher like?” Iain inquires mildy.

I get a mental picture of Mrs. Largo. “She was a good friend of my mom. I remember her being cuddly and smelling like buttermilk pancakes.”

Iain smothers a laugh as he switches to G flat major, “Cuddly?”

I laugh and playfully swat his arm which he swerves to the side to avoid, giving me this warning look but his eyes are full of mirth. “She liked to eat a lot. I just looked forward to having her around bringing us pastries.”

“Ah, what child could ever resist pancakes?” Iain agreed with mock gravity, he smiles knowingly remembering the time we spent at IHOP.

“What was your piano teacher like?”

Iain falters in his expression despite still remarkably not losing concentration as he keeps his eyes directed at his playing. “My grandfather taught me how to play when I was three.” He plays something else and this time it’s Nocturne in C minor. Chopin has a whole series of Polonaise, Nocturnes and Etudes that I have yet to remember. It’s a miracle that Iain has mastered most if not all of them to memory.

“You must have been very close.” I picture Iain as a cute little boy with big blue eyes, tousled messed up dark brown hair with a mischievous toothy smile as he eagerly plays a song on the piano with his legs dangling from the seat. “We were. He was more like a father figure to me. My dad rarely spent that much time with me because he was too busy with work. He wasn’t like your teacher though, my grandfather was as cuddly as a Grisly bear. He looks like a genetic cross between Yogi Bear and Santa too. Hence, ‘cuddly’.” Ah, there’s that impish smile again.

“So can you play anything else? I’m beginning to worry that all you know is Chopin.”

Iain throws me a mock horrified look and my shoulders shake with mirth. He looks pensive and stops what he’s doing suddenly, thinking of what to play as he scratches his chin with one hand, deep in thought while his other arm leans against the piano. Then his face lightens up as I gaze into those cobalt blue eyes of his darken in mischief.

He plays something that starts off slow, poignant...and oddly familiar.

“Are we playing ‘Name that Tune’?” I smirk and raise my eyebrow. Iain laughs. He looks so young, handsome and carefree as he nods his head and continues hitting the keys as the gentle, dreamlike, song goes on.

“Is it Piano Concerto No.2 in C Minor by Rachmaninoff?”

Iain pouts at me sexily. “I thought we were playing ‘Name that Tune’, not Jeopardy. But yes it is.” He looks impressed, my Cheerio cheerleader self is doing cartwheels and splits.

“How did you know?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s from the movie Brief Encounter. I must have seen that movie like a couple of times on cable.”

“Who knew Quinn Fabray likes to watch movies in black and white?”

“Just because I’m blonde and I used to be a cheerleader, it doesn’t mean I’m dumb, Iain.”

He looks at me in a feigned sheepish expression and part of me wants to reach out and affectionately ruffle my hands against that thick, dark brown hair. He’s so sitting so close to me, I realize this is the nearest proximity we’ve ever had.

I focus instead on what he would have looked like if he were the three year old who was being taught by his grandfather. He must have been so adorable when he was younger, I could easily imagine him with big blue eyes, tousled hair sitting with his legs dangling on the piano as he tinkers to “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. I hold the sudden urge to wrap him around my arms and hug him tight.

“You do surprise me, Quinn. It seems like I’m not the only one who has layers.”

What does he mean by that?

He clears his throat. “What I meant to say was that I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too. Take for example; doesn’t it seem odd that this particular song sounds familiar? Like as if it were from a pop song or ballad.”

My eyes search his not quite comprehending. He clears his throat again and as the song reaches into another round, he breaks into a mock girlish falsetto and sings ‘All By Myself’.

He looks so ridiculous and lovable, I burst out laughing.

“You’re cute when you laugh.” He says dryly with mock sham gravity but he’s grinning ear to ear.

“You put Rachel Berry to shame.” I answer tartly, enjoying our banter, deeply thrilled that he’s thrown me a compliment.

“Sounds like a rip-off doesn’t it?” He’s talking about the classic song’s riff used in the power ballad.

“Your singing wasn’t that bad either.” I answer in a deadpan voice. He chuckles at my quip.

This day couldn’t get any more pleasant. I didn’t feel like I wanted to break the news about Neil just yet. He looks so relaxed and carefree. Not now, my subconscious, Cheerio cheerleader, and inner queen bitch are down on their knees, pleading. I’ll do it tomorrow, I promise myself.

“Something bothering you?”

Drat! Damn Iain and his mindreading abilities.

“Uhm, no.” I lie. Iain throws me a meaningful look that says “tell me.”

“You sure?”

“It’s just...I was worried about that scholarship grant at Yale. I mean, what if I don’t get it?” There. It was half the truth anyway; I do worry about that too.

Iain’s expression softens and he rewards me with a half-smile. “Leave that part for me to worry about, ok? I’m sure you’ll get a grant from some rich benefactors with so much money to spend.”

He straightens up. He looks determined and I note that his blue eyes blaze with purpose and excitement.

“Okay,” he says as I’m further dragged into those unfathomable blue orbs. “Close your eyes.” He instructs as I give him a puzzled look.

“I’m giving you a musical appreciation course. It’s all part of the Iain Hargreave tutorial package. Not only can I improve SAT scores and guarantee a scholarship into one of the country’s finest universities, but I also give my favorite students a good sense of taste in the arts.” He breaks in a mock serious voice.

He looks so lighthearted, cheerful, and young; I actually forget that he’s much older than me. I dismiss this thought immediately and enjoy the moment. I give in to his order and he breaks into a sound that is slow, poignant, and reminds me of an old black and white Hollywood Noir movie.

“Listen to the sound and tell me what you’re thinking,” when I try to open one eye to look at him dubiously, I hear him clucking his tongue “Uh-uh, don’t open them yet, just tell me.” He implores as he plays a little louder as if the song were meant to go through that.

“I’m not going to laugh,” he adds quietly. “Trust me.”

Trust me, he says. Do I even trust myself when I’m around him?

“It’s like being stuck in an old Hollywood film noir crime drama. I’m thinking of a scene where there’s this lonely detective who’s down on his luck during the twenties who smokes way too much cigars in his office.” I listen in further as the somber sound breaks in again. “Then there’s this woman that can be seen through the heavy blinds of the window door, she knocks softly before entering. When she does, she looks way too glamorous to be stuck in a dingy office and she’s wearing red leather high heels.” I open my eyes and my mouth goes dry as Iain smiles almost as if in admirable wonder at what I had just said.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs not taking his eyes off me. I hardly noticed that he’s stopped playing as I in turn take in the unruly dark hair that falls casually on his forehead, his blue eyes turning into the color of stormy dark nimbus clouds as he takes in every angle of my face, memorizing it as if it were his last. I can smell the heady mixture of bergamot, sandalwood, and Iain. My heart flutters in anticipation thinking of the unknown.

“The title of the song is called High Heels. It’s by a modern Japanese composer, Ryuichi Sakamoto.” Had I imagined it, but has his voice turned husky? I drown myself staring into those hypnotic cobalt blue eyes and my heart races faster when I note that his pupils are dilated. Suddenly, I’m not interested in Sakamoto or anything for that matter. What I want is to lean towards him and feel those hard lips against mine. I want to drown myself into sea with this Poseidon, into the vast depths mixed with bergamot, sandalwood, and unadulterated male. I can almost feel myself leaning towards him and he’s mirroring the same thing I’m doing.

He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of blonde hair from my face. His fingers linger, gently tracing the side of my face before he suddenly stiffens with a stricken expression like I’ve just bitten him. He then quickly withdraws his arm as if touching me repulses him.

“Quinn, I think this lesson is over.” He smiles sadly, I am pulled harshly back into reality, so hurt and embarrassed that I don’t notice the unmistakable regret in his voice.

“You were spot on to guess the title. I imagined the same thing too when I first listened to it.” He switches topic so quickly that I give myself a mental shake. I don’t even notice that he stands up a little too abruptly as he eases his way off the piano giving us distance.

Wait? What? You’re not going to kiss me? My subconscious wants to stand up grab his face and.... Wait? Why do I want him to kiss me?

* * *

Chapter 10

Iain

What the fuck just happened?

I was so close to kissing her, I almost blanch at the thought of it. God damn it, Hargreave! My subconscious gives me a kick straight for the groin. What the hell were you thinking? You nearly molested a minor! What the fuck is wrong with you? It started out all innocent. She looked like she was enjoying listening to me play, so I decided to go along with it, despite the warning bells ringing in my head. It was all part of the music appreciation thing. My grandfather did this exercise with me so I wouldn’t be bored playing something that didn’t have any meaning to me. I even taught it to Becky once and so far, I’m glad at the progress she’s made with her piano lessons. Why in God’s name do I even want to make Quinn care about the stuff I like? I don’t even want to know why it seemed so important at the time to make her catch a glimpse of my own private bubble. You really got it bad, I almost roll my eyes at the thought that out of all the women I could have taken my pick from, the one who’s gotten under my skin; the only woman I want is too young and inexperienced for her own good.

I’ve done my research on her. I know it sounds creepy, but it pays off in the corporate world. My family does countless of background checks on potential girlfriends for me and wives of my dad, so this wasn’t new. I already knew about her history with that Mohawk punk; that they’ve had a baby together and that Beth was adopted by some woman who was a teacher at McKinley named Shelby Corcoran who also happens to be Rachel Berry’s biological mother. I wasn’t going to destroy her life like that other moron did.

Looking at how vulnerable she is now, with her mouth quivering and her blush reaching across her soft delicate cheeks and tears welling up her eyes I feel like a cross between a lecher and an idiot. I run my hands through my hair caught between laughing in frustration and groaning in agony because I don’t know which is worse, wanting to kiss her or feeling guilty for not kissing her when she looks so forlorn from rejection.

“You’re hungry.” I find myself frowning as I murmur that thought aloud. “You need to eat.”

It’s a lot easier keeping this distance, I turn my heel and saunter off the kitchen leaving her. I ignore gut wrenching sensation when I catch her hastily wiping a lone tear from her face because I feel lower than a snake for doing this to her.

She doesn’t need this in her life, I tell myself as I silently prepare the table while she sits at one end looking like a pale ghost of a vibrant girl who had just voiced out the same sentiments I felt about the song I played earlier. In fact, she described it better than me, I remarked bitterly.

I talk aimlessly about how my day went, keeping in line of the conversation pulling her out of her sullen mood. I omit that I made a rather expensive overseas call to my housekeeper on how to prepare tonight’s dinner. I chuckle at the memory of Mrs. Taylor painstakingly patient efforts. So far the salad I’ve prepared isn’t half as bad as I thought it would be and that the Moussakas mixed with minced lamb was just as good as how Mrs. Taylor made it. I mentally pat myself at the back that I’ve managed to cook a rather decent dinner despite my limited, if non-existent domestic skills. I’m going to have to buy a cookbook at this rate.

Dear Lord, she’s already got me cooking.....literally.

“Great Moussakas.” Quinn smiles slightly as she takes in another helping.

“You’re welcome.” I give a half sided smile as I finish off my plate.

“Not our usual take-out, but this will do.”

“What kind of food do you like?” “Just about anything. I’ve got an adventurous gastronomical streak after watching Anthony Bourdain’s show. My mom cooks the really boring healthy stuff,” she rolls her eyes with disgust. “It’s not that bad, but I could use a bit of variety once in a while. I’ve got a fast metabolism anyway so getting fat is the least of my worries.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were fat.”

She flushes a little. I wonder bleakly if I’m I ever going to tire of her looking this way?

Probably never.

She takes a long sip of water. “Really? I used to be that. You know, fat...”

“I know,” I say softly. “I saw the picture your father keeps in his office.”

“Guess it must have been a surprise to you when you found out what I look like now, huh?” I throw her a bewildered look. There are times when I don’t know what she’s thinking exactly, but I can somehow tune in to what she’s feeling.

This time I catch a glimpse of that sad, dowdy chubby girl hiding behind the gorgeous blonde. Though I know they may be as different as day and night, they’re cut from the same cloth. I find myself thinking that when Quinn lets her guard down, you could see that sad vulnerable dowdy girl.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Quinn? Please don’t.” I say quietly. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your past; it’s what defines you as who you’ve become. And you are the most extraordinary girl I’ve ever met. Don’t ever forget that.” She nods, as if the words penetrate through her. I had to emphasize on the word girl than woman because hell, I didn’t want to scare her thinking that she is without doubt the most fucking amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’ve never been intimate with her to even to know that.

And, as an afterthought even I slept with her, I would’ve felt the exact same way. I remember the time when I wanted to seduce her in New York, and thinking about how I was going to treat her like a weekend fling didn’t suit me at all. Hell, she deserves so much better than what I had to offer. I get this feeling I would never let her go if I did. What were my reasons on why I felt this way was baffling the crap out of me, but I wasn’t going to ponder on my wayward thoughts.

Now she looks about just in need of an ego patting. My thoughts go out immediately on how lacking Russell and Fran’s parental skills were that they’ve never made their own daughter feel loved and secure.

“When I saw you, it didn’t matter. It was a shock initially, of course. But it was never an issue.”

She looks at me trying to decipher if I’m bullshitting her. I answered her in whole honesty. I recall the first time I saw her that day at the hotel lobby, I caught a glimpse of that sad dowdy, helpless girl who looked like she was begging for someone to love her and it gave my sinoatrial node a jolt like never before. Even though she looks like a knockout with that sandy blonde hair and rocking sexy body, I knew I had fallen in love with the lonely lost girl first.

I remember my Philosophy professor in Stanford once quoted some cheesy line from Blaise Pascal, saying that the heart has its reasons which reason does not know; to the extent that it wants what it wants even if it doesn’t make sense at all.

And from that moment I knew that I wanted Quinn. Imperfections and all fucking seven shades of her love.

“That....was a very nice thing for you to say, Iain.” She thanks me.

What the fuck? I just let my heart, if not my dick, hang out loose and wear it on my sleeve and she thanks me like I’m her grandmother who just read her a bedtime story?!

I am never going to understand women.

“I didn’t say it to be nice,” I snap, regretting immediately when I see her involuntarily wince. I don’t know why I even bother? I stand up and hastily take my dinner plate and walk to the kitchen to rinse it off. This girl confuses the hell out of me. I should be scared shitless, but I’m not. In fact, I’m drawn to her more than ever. It’ll be a few more days until Judy gets back and I don’t know whether to dread or look forward to that day. I admit it, I’m attracted to her. What unsettles me, however, is the fact that she feels the exact same way and I don’t know jack shit what to do about it.

A few hours later, after dinner, I sit in front of the big couch and watch listless at the news on CNN. I check my Blackberry and answer a few messages from work. I pull out the Macbook I brought with me and resume to answer any e-mails I’ve left and give further instructions. I have to remember to sometime thank the people who work for me that they can pretty much cover my ass while Project Missing Little Brother is ongoing. I haven’t been doing business deals for almost two weeks now and people are starting to wonder if I’m stuck in a mental asylum.

This explains why I had to take a personal leave from the Fabrays for three days to cover a business meeting with the Hong Kong businessmen whom I had just purchased a deal in the luxury shipping lines industry. Then I had to make a conference call to Japan and Dubai as we discussed the merger of the upcoming property that was going to be built in their respective countries.

I know I’ll always be a talented pianist, but deep down inside I love the rush I get doing corporate stuff. At my age, I finally understood that it wasn’t a game like I had done when I was much younger and made mergers and do stock investments like it were a Drug Wars application.

In fact the business version of the game, Loan Shark was inspired by me. I developed the software when I was 12. With the help of my father’s advisers acting as my proxy, I had easily earned my first billion dollar net profit. It all seems like yesterday when I had taken control of the company from my grandmother when I turned 21. Almost four years of a whirlwind experience and here I find myself fuming on a couch about some fair-haired teenage girl who makes me want to forget everything and lose control.

My thoughts are rudely interrupted by the sound of my Blackberry. I pick up and answer.

“Hargreave.” “Iain!!!” A shrill youthful female voice shrieks at the other end as I wince and move my head away from my phone.

“How come you haven’t been answering my e-mails? Constance is worried sick about you and thinks you’re having a mental breakdown or something and I don’t know how much longer I can cover for you.”

“What have you been telling her?” I inquire mildly.

“Well, I told her that you’ve been dealing with some crazy South American druglords on your ship.”

“Chelsea...” I growl menacingly. If I could strangle my kid sister right here and now I probably would have done so.

“I was kidding, you can chillax Big brother. I said you visited me in boarding school for a PTA meeting and said exactly what you instructed. I’m a terribly great actress.” “You should be, I’m paying for your acting lessons.” Not to mention I’ve doubled her shopping allowance for the next two months so she could keep the end of her bargain.

“So have you met him? Your brother?”

“He’s our brother, Chelsea.”

“Yes he is. But what I meant is that he’s your blood. I’m adopted so I don’t share your DNA.” Chelsea simpers a bit and says quietly. “Do me a favor and please go easy on him, ok? I know what you’re like when it comes to opening up on the emotional stuff. I doubt this drama is going to be a walk in the park for him. He’s going to rebel and act out.”

“Like you do?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Iain!”

“Sometimes I forget you’re just thirteen.”

“I’m wise beyond my years is all.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Where’s Anton?” My sister was referring to my personal bodyguard. I actually have three on hand for security reasons, but since I went incognito, I was on my own for a while. Since my return from New York, Anton has been following me from a safe distance.

“At his usual post.”

“Aren’t you going to ever tell her?”

“Tell who?”

“The girl you’ve been babysitting! She must be really pretty because you’ve been hanging around their house for more than a week now. Knowing you the way I do, you would have been in New York days ago, dragging your new found brother alongside in tow.”

“It’s none of your business.” I ignore the tugging feeling that my sister is spot on.

“I’m going to meet her one day.” Chelsea makes it sound like she’s made her ultimatum. “I can’t wait to see the girl who’s gotten my billionaire brother in such a tizzy.”

“Goodnight Chelsea.” I cut her off before she starts protesting.

I turn off my phone knowing that my sister is going to call me again and ply me more questions about Quinn. I already feel terrible having to drag my sister into this mess and it doesn’t make me feel better that Chelsea has this idea that there’s something going on between me and Quinn.

Speaking of the blonde girl, I haven’t heard anything from her in the past few hours.

I look up at the clock and think that she’s in her bedroom probably reading the Bible, praying, or doing something utterly boring. She’s been rather quiet the entire time that I find myself swearing a mouthful as I stand from my post and head over upstairs.

I knock softly on the door before opening it and find her fast asleep on her bed. She’s in a deep slumber that she doesn’t notice I’m inside her bedroom. I lean against the door and sigh contently taking in the sight of her in a sheer lilac nightgown that’s short enough to slow her long legs and pale flawless skin.

I’m a guy who likes his women in expensive lingerie like Agent Provocateur or Victoria’s Secret (hell, I’ve even slept with the models from both catalogues) but seeing her even in a chastely modest nightgown makes my blood pound like no other.

I turn my lustful thoughts instead to her dainty room painted in lilac and purple paisley designs fill the walls of her bedpost. She’s fond of elephants as I note that there are also at least four different colored stuffed elephants in her room. A yellow one with a sun design tattooed on its forehead sits on her desk while a white elephant with a floral design on its head with eyes that remind me of an alien’s sits on her window ledge accompanied with a pink elephant with an intricate Indian lace henna on its head that appears to be winking at me.

Beside her is a fluffy cotton candy pink elephant stuff toy she fondly calls Gumbo. She once told me that she won him at the fair in a ball throwing game. The others, she explained were bought online because the proceeds go to an elephant sanctuary. I frown at the inanimate object that sits on its haunches like it’s about to take a crap, envying the damn thing because it gets to sleep beside her every single night.

I take the longest time looking at her sleeping form, watching her breathe in and out, noting the sheer thinness of her gown and that if I stare long enough, I might catch the outline of the mounds underneath her breasts. I immediately shift my gaze elsewhere and realize that she just left her night lamp on. She must have been reading a book as it lies on the floor beside her open faced.

I approach the side of her bed and find out that it isn’t a book, but a diary of sorts. I feel like a jerk invading her privacy and read some of what she wrote on her diary but as I flip through the pages, I realize that it isn’t diary but a journal.

It’s a mixed collection of short stories, anecdotes made by from artists, poets and authors. I’m amazed at the witty comments she makes along with pictures that she has taken no doubt from a Polaroid Lomo hybrid camera that she must have brought along with her. Who knew she could write like this? She’s not only got perspective but she even makes the most mundane thing seem extraordinary. She’s absolutely brilliant! I stifle a giggle as she recounts an antic Brittany does where there’s a photographic evidence of the unaware cheerleader as she tries to feed a piece of melted cheese to her obese cat.

I read through, noting that she too loves Chopin and has learned to adore Sakamoto. I thumb along and come across a page that’s splotchy that there’s an sketch of a woman opening her arms to surrender to the embrace of a winged man. I realize that it’s taken from Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, by Antonio Canova, a sculpture I once saw in the Lourve. It depicts a beautiful woman in the arms of the angel, Cupid; each lost in each other’s embrace with a thought that resonates exactly what I’m feeling.

“The mind can calculate, but the spirit yearns, and the heart knows what the heart knows”

― Stephen King

“If you think with your head, a heart is just an organ that pumps blood.

But if you think with your heart,

you know that a heart is the core of human existence.

It feels, emotes, and expresses.

With a heart you can perceive, understand, and judge.

Often, a heart is accorded more importance than the brain.

But then, why does my mind fight what my heart wants?”

-- Q

I look quickly checking if she’s woken, lucky for me the girl sleeps like the dead, I muse as I silently close the journal and place it back. The last thing I would want her to think is that I had gone through her private thoughts.

I come closer and grab the edge of the baby pink comforter pulling it over, tucking her to bed. I realize with a dull ache that she’s been crying because I can hear her sniffles and that there’s a drying mark of tears that mar her porcelain skin.

Without thinking I run the back of my hand against her face, as if to wipe them and I feel uneasiness settle knowing that I’m responsible for this episode. She stirs a little but mews against my touch as she sighs contently with a ghost of smile on her face. I comfort myself knowing that at least in her sleep, she doesn’t fight me.

I run another glance at her sleeping form and mutter “I’m sorry for acting like a jerk, baby.” She stirs slightly and mumbles in her sleep saying something about not leaving her. Strange feelings beat inside me as I wonder if this was the exact same way my father felt for my mother.

Instead of pondering such thoughts, instead of complying to her request while she’s defenseless in her sleep, I turn off the night lamp and leave her bedroom, closing the door behind me without looking back.

* * *

Chapter 11

Quinn

I wake up the next morning feeling oddly refreshed. I knew I had been crying the night before due to Iain’s mercurial mood swings and my confused feelings for him. Since that time where I thought he was about to kiss me, he’s been distant and has avoided me the entire evening. That took a toll on me because I had been up the rest of the evening pouring my thoughts on my journal, trying desperately not to think about the handsome young man who was asleep downstairs.

I had dreamt that he had entered my room and tucked me into bed. It’s that feeling one gets when they’re half awake and half asleep and I was almost certain that I heard him apologize for his behavior. Perhaps I dreamt it the entire time, I wasn’t so sure. But what I was certain of was that I wasn’t sure how to approach him giving the awkwardness last night.

As I descend from the stairs. I guess Iain spared me the trouble. I find a letter on the dinner table addressed to me written in bold, cursive, obviously masculine handwriting:

Quinn,

Your dad made me run some errands so I had to leave early. I made you breakfast. Anton will take you to school. He’s waiting outside so please don’t take too long and waste his time.

Iain.

How thoughtful of him, I dismiss the sad feeling gnawing at my nerves thinking that I wasn’t going to see him. With all the confusion, I haven’t told him about Neil. But then I figured I had to earn his brother’s trust first before telling him the news. It could wait till later, I tell myself as I quickly devour the breakfast he’s prepared. I have this feeling Iain isn’t keen on domestic skills, but at least he makes a decent egg and bacon omelet.

Once all is said and done, I take my school bag and go outside and find a man in aviators parked in front of the house......ohmigosh, is that a Bentley Mulsanne?

I find myself looking at a tall young man who looked to be in his late twenties, with a shock of black hair, hard Latin features...Mexican perhaps? He‘s tough and fairly intimidating, but I relax the minute I notice his eyes, they had a kindness about them and looks to be smiling.

“Good morning, Miss Fabray. I’m Anton.” He nods curtly as he opens the back passenger door of the silver luxury car.

“It’s Quinn, please.” I say. No need to be formal, mister. Who the hell is this guy? Sometimes I don’t know Iain well enough to know what he’s been up to and who his friends are and what they’re like.

Perhaps this could be his way of letting me catch a glimpse of his life. He isn’t very good expressing his feelings verbally, so I guess demonstration will have to do for now. And at least, maybe I could get some information from this Anton guy.

Anton is more of the silent type. He drives in utter silence when I break his thoughts.

“I didn’t know Iain had friends here in Lima. How do you know each other?”

“We were team mates in soccer during his time in Stanford. I moved here with my wife and daughter a year ago. I had only known that Iain was here this morning when he called in a favour to ask me to bring you to school because he knows I work as a valet at Courtyard Lima.” He mentions one of the few three star hotels in town. In fact, we don’t even own anything five star here. Though Anton says this to me straight-faced, I get the feeling it’s almost as if he were reciting a prepared speech. Instead of questioning him further, I nod as if this piece of information has appeased my curiosity. Anton visibly relaxes.

I guess he doesn’t like to lie either.

There are things about Iain that don’t add up. First of all, he’s too cultured and educated to be just some musically inclined guy from New York, plus he’s way too arrogant to take orders from anyone that it’s a wonder why he runs errands for my dad who can be overbearing to people he thinks are beneath him, and now this......being dropped off to school in a silver Bentley? I don’t mean to sound snobbish because I can’t imagine anyone in this town would own a car like this, I mean, who in Lima Ohio drives a car that’s over two hundred grand? Sugar Motta gets driven around in a Benz, but this car costs twice. Actually probably more than thrice, as I notice the additional features inside the car. There’s a portable jack where one can plug electronics, a small screen monitor and dvd player, an Apple dock, which I take full advantage of charging my phone. As I open the mini refrigerator, Anton’s voice booms from his side telling me that I can help myself with whatever I wanted. I smile gratefully and grab a Diet Coke and open a box of Truffettes de France Truffles. I’m crazy about those things and it’s a delightful surprise that the fridge happens to have them. I giggle amusingly as I pop a piece in my mouth as I continue to mull over the things about Iain that doesn’t make sense.

Like when I met Anton, he’s formal to the hilt that I get the feeling I’m his employer than just a friend of his friend. Plus, he doesn’t look like the chauffer type either but there’s something about him that can make anyone feel safe when he’s around. Like a bodyguard. And yeah, like I didn’t notice that he wore a gun holster that was barely concealed from his blazer when he assisted me into getting the car. I don’t want to question everything just yet. I want to live in this blissfully ignorant state that for now, Iain is mine and that he isn’t going back to New York soon because he hasn’t found Neil yet.

Neil. I almost blanch because I haven’t told Iain about me meeting his younger brother.

“He’s a good man, Quinn.” Anton interrupts my thoughts as he looks at me briefly at the review mirror as he easily changes gears. I’m a bit puzzled as to why he would say this so brazenly. I barely know the guy, but he seems to know Iain and I don’t know what Iain’s been telling him about me. Not that I care.

Once we reach the grounds of McKinley High, people look at disbelief at the sight of the silver four door Bentley. I ease out before Anton rushes over to open the door for me.

“Thank you for the ride and for the chocolates, Anton. They’re my favorite. Please thank Iain for me too.” I tell him and he looks shocked. He blushes for a moment and nods quickly before he heads off.

“Sweet ride, Fabray.” I hear one of the jocks from the hockey team give that praise. I resolutely ignore him and walk on.

We start the God Squad meeting. I’m being joined by Mercedes, Sam, and this new guy Joe Hart who looks like a teen hippy with his dreadlocks, beat-up sandals, and slightly unkempt clothing that hangs loosely around his reed-thin frame. He sort of came around as a surprise when he asked about the group and I thought it was because he was high from smoking too much weed. It turns out that he was serious and I actually mistook his earthy smell as marijuana from the organic softener he uses on his clothes. I was just as surprised to find out that Joe was formerly homeschooled before his parents decided to let him enjoy life as a regular teenager as a sophomore.

Our session is about to begin when I see Neil poke his head.

“Am I late?” My spirits lift and I see that Neil is dressed in a blue plaid shirt, well worn soft jeans that are strategically ripped at one knee and a pair of beat up Nikes. He looks every bit as handsome and masculine that I tell myself it’s because I’ve missed Iain this morning. Neil is just channeling my frustration with his older brother. I almost I could have imagined Iain if he was younger and much more reckless with bigger biceps.

“No, please join us.” I motion him to sit beside me and Mercedes has this “who is this piece of hunk?” look on her face. Sam looks displeased. We’re still good friends, by the way, and I could tell that he’s pining after Mercedes by the murderous glances he’s giving Neil. Joe seems unaffected by the underlying tension and gives Iain’s brother a welcoming smile.

“Everyone this is Neil. I invited him to join us.”

Everyone murmurs their hellos.

“Neil Sheridan, right?” Sam looks at the newcomer with an air of hostility. He doesn’t carry his father’s surname, I reflect as I watch Neil saunter over to us.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Neil replies, completely looking bored. I’m starting to think that this is a famous Hargreave “I don’t give an eff what you think” counter stance. It works effectively as Mercedes gives Sam a warning look which he relents.

“So tell us, brother Neil why you have come to join our group of praise?” Mercedes asks sweetly, as if giving out amends for Sam’s antagonistic behavior.

Despite of himself, Neil chuckles. “Well, I know it’s hard to believe that someone like me has faith. My family’s originally Catholic and raised me to believe in God. And I do believe in God. I’ve been going through some tough times. Me and my aunt moved around especially in the last couple of months since my mother’s death.”

Mercedes makes an automatic sign of the cross as an act of giving a silent condolence for Neil’s loss. I pray that Iain’s mother didn’t suffer that badly. I knew she died from cancer.

“I’ve been a bit of a jerk too. I didn’t make things easier for my Aunt Luna. She’s already had a lot to deal with, raising me as her own. She has a son from a previous relationship, Julian. He’s autistic, so yeah, it’s been hard for all of us.”

“Don’t you have any other family?”

I already knew that answer, but because Sam asked this, his eyes full of compassion for Neil’s plight. I’ve been given so many graces by God that sometimes I find it so compelling that there are people far worse off than me. After meeting Iain, I realized that there’s this irony that there are those who despite having everything, there are painful tragedies like this that even no amount of money in the world could afford to compensate.

Neil’s eyes harden as he simply answers “No, I don’t.” I feel a chill creep my spine. Did his mother tell him about the divorce? I wonder silently as I listen to him continue.

He shakes his head and lets out a long sigh. “I never knew my father. My mom says that he was a good man and when I was old enough to ask more, she didn’t give me sufficient answers. I don’t even have a picture. I even doubted my mother was telling me the truth; she got knocked up by some complete stranger and was just shielding me from the truth. Then, when I couldn’t ask her, I tried going to Aunt Luna and she wasn’t that much helpful either. I know it’s been really....frustrating not being able to know something about that other half of you. I don’t look anything like my mother. I sure don’t act like any of my other relatives and every time I try to find answers, I get nothing. Add that up with high school drama and teenage angst that is one dodgy mix.” He gives off a lazy half smile and I’m almost tempted to hug him. He clears his throat and cites a passage from a Bible. I’m amazed that he sites this out of memory.

“There’s a reading off Matthew from the New Testament that says: ‘Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.’

So I’ve been doing that, taking things a step at a time. I’ve found myself being much closer to the good Lord who has given me strength when my mom was dying with cancer. I’ve read the Bible to her whenever I got the chance to visit her at the hospital.”

“Praise the word of the Lord for providing us comfort for the sick and our souls,” Joe says nodding with approval.

We all respond with praises.

“It’s like what was written in Psalms 37:5-6: Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.” Sam responds, reading off a page from a dog-earned pocket Bible he carries with him all the time during our sessions.

“Commitment to our Lord and God our Father Almighty takes a lot of blind faith, especially during these dark times. But if we persevere we’ll find our way and our prayers will someday be answered. So with this, I pray that you someday will find peace, Neil.” I smile and take his hand.

He looks at me with this odd expression and says nothing.

I really have to find a way for the brothers to meet. I’ve been wondering that perhaps maybe all this time from the time that I had chanced upon Iain in New York and this time that I’ve met him and his brother could God have sent me to serve a purpose to reunite the brothers who have lost so much? I used to think of my faith as sometime routine, my Celibacy Club was, let’s face it, an utter sham so I wouldn’t have Finn sleeping off with some slut when I didn’t put out. But so much has changed after Beth. I had become more considerate and less selfish. And this time, I might have a chance to right the wrongdoings I’ve done in the past by reuniting Iain with his brother.

***

“Hey wait up!” Neil catches up with me in the hall after our God Squad session. I turn around and watch him jog, noting how graceful he is despite his massive size. Apparently klutz is not one of the words found in the Hargreave DNA.

“You were great in there, Neil. I’m really glad you came.”

“Yeah, it was good meeting everyone else. Even that weird guy with the Rastafarian hair is alright,” Neil nods towards Joe’s direction as he passes us by. We murmur our hellos and Neil rivets back his attention, his marble-like sunburst eyes glinting with purpose.

“I believe you owe me a date, Miss Fabray. I’ve come to collect in advance.” He says softly as I can feel him coming in closer. He stops until we’re almost head to head. Actually, it’s more like the top of my head is a little below his shoulders. My heart races nervously as I look again at him. He gives a half-smile and suddenly, I start thinking of Iain and how he does the exact same thing. I realize that when his brother does this, I get weak in the knees, but with Neil it’s different.

“Yes, I guess I do,” I swallow and nod.

“Well, you don’t have to act so nervous about it,” Neil laughs, but he doesn’t realize is that I was thinking about his brother and doing mental comparisons between both of them.

“I don’t do dates.”

He looks stunned. “Why is that?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I guess it has something to do with the fact that I had a pretty rough time in the last two years.” “Somebody hurt you?” Neil asks quietly. We both take a companionable walk together. School is over and because neither one of us brought a car, we decide to hike our way to the Lima Kahlua Bean Coffee Shop. I didn’t think Neil could afford to eat at Breadsticks, so going for coffee seemed like a good neutral ground. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings either because given from what I’ve known, he’s just as proud as his older brother.

I shake my head and let out a long sigh. I tell Neil the whole story of my teenage mommy drama. How I managed to fool my then ex-boyfriend into thinking he was the father. Of the time when my own dad threw me out of the house and that I have lived with three other people unlike Beth’s father while exiled. My parents’ divorce, my sister Fran driving me crazy after she found out her husband was bisexual, my transition from being the It Girl, captain of the Cheerios, to angry bewildered ex-girlfriend, then cutting my hair short and dying it pink, smoking cigarettes and getting a Ryan Seacrest tattoo. I even told him about the time I tried to steal Beth back as Neil listens attentively and quietly. I’ve been talking my head off and haven’t realized that we’ve already made it to our destination. I’m not one who easily shares anything because I have trust issues, but being around Neil made me feel so comfortable that I barely felt the need to draw up any barriers.

He finds us a seat near one of the nicer parts of the coffee shop. He takes off his jacket and places it on the couch.

“You know what you want?” He motions his head across the counter.

“I’ll have a Chai latte with skim milk, thanks.”

“Alright, beautiful. Just sit your pretty little ass there and I’ll go get us our order,” Neil winks at me, his eyes crinkling in amusement as I give him a scolding glance.

I sit back and reflect again on each of the brothers and how different, yet similar they can be. Neil is brash, but I get it that he can also be thoughtful, considerate, and a sensitive person. I recall the way he listened to me talk about my life. There was no pity in his eyes except when he looked furious as I relayed the news about me getting thrown out of the house. He’s quiet, thoughtful and a lot mature for his age, I almost forget that I’m two years older than he is.

His brother, Iain, on the other hand is cool, quiet, refined but also possesses a fiery temperament like a stallion held in check.

Both brothers are drop dead gorgeous, as I note with dismay on how the girls in line eyeball Neil with gusto as he gives his order to the barista, who is a petite blonde blushing furiously from the attention she’s getting from the tall, handsome broad-shouldered muscular god in front of her. With his bronze skin, black spiky hair and eyes which are a stunning myriad of gold and blue, Neil was in fact a gorgeous Greek god.

Zeus comes back juggling my order on one arm as he easily carries his own mug and balances a slice of cake on the other arm.

“Here, let me help you,” I insist as I take my mug as he grins in thanks. He then settles his cake. It’s a huge triple chocolate fudge cake. He plops himself on the couch across me, I smile thoughtfully thinking of the Hargreave boys’ ability to still retain that boyish quality despite their rakish appeal.

“I haven’t had one of these like for the longest time,” Neil starts digging in on his cake as he pops a slice into his mouth. He then closes his eyes and lets out a hum of appreciation, enjoying the fudgy goodness as he playfully licks his spoon and shudders in pure bliss.

“And why’s that?” I laugh and shake my head when he offers to share his cake.

“My Aunt Luna has this thing about organic food,” Neil explains as he takes a long sip of his decaffeinated coffee. “She’s against anything that’s processed, has sugar or preservatives, and all the other good stuff children like. She thinks it makes her son, Tom hyper so we don’t have it at home. Plus she’s a vegetarian, so meat is also definitely off the menu.”

“That must’ve been tough adjusting to a strict regime.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. He tilts his head side to side as he chews on another piece, playing with his cake. He looks like a little boy enjoying his birthday cake. “It wasn’t that bad, at least I never had to worry about getting fat because I eat. A. LOT.” He laughs, emphasizing on his huge insatiable appetite.

I give him an appreciative look over. “And it’s working.”

He lifts part of his shirt halfway to show me his well defined six pack abs.

Holy crap! I fervently remind myself that Neil is just 16 years old. I can’t even recall a time in my life when I had a classmate who was as well formed as he is. I wonder if he works out, I think of Neil inside a gym, but it’s unlikely that he spends his time there. I think to myself that the muscles on his body are related to the fact that he likes to indulge in sports and those rippling pectorals are from all the hard work that’s effortlessly paid off.

“You’re starting to drool, babe.” Neil throws his head back roaring in laughter as he quickly puts back his shirt. “I usually don’t like being ogled at, but for a stunningly beautiful woman, I’ll make a huge exception.”

Has Iain ever told you how beautiful you are? My subconscious sneers as she walks over to caress Neil’s forearm before settling herself beside him, sitting on the armchair as she wraps her arms around him possessively.

“Have you ever considered modeling?” I recover from my reverie as I take another long sip of my Chai latte. It’s cold and was mixed a bit too sweet. I don’t care, just as long as I don’t look at those tempting abs again.

“I used to, actually. We were always on the road before my mom died. I was born here in Ohio, but my Mom and I moved to Covington Louisiana when I was three. We moved out before Hurricane Katrina and lived in New Mexico for a while before settling in LA, which was great because the weather’s just as nice. I also did some modeling there to cover for some of the bills.” He raises an eyebrow when he notices my reaction. “Don’t feel so sorry for me, gorgeous. I can assure you that I was never molested by a creepy pedophile. My Mom and Aunt Luna did some modeling back in their day, so they knew the right people in the business. In fact, if my mom hadn’t been sick, I might have taken up that Ford contract and moved to New York. ”

“Did your Aunt Luna always accompany you and your mom?”

“Yeah, she and mom are twins so they were inseparable. I guess Aunt Luna just couldn’t for any reason leave her alone to fend for me. I guess she’s got some twin’s intuition because she insisted to always stay with us because she knew that there was something wrong with my mom. Mom had this habit of never telling anyone what she was thinking or how she was feeling but somehow Aunt Luna knew. She was there when my mom was diagnosed with Leukemia. That’s why we moved out of Covington because Aunt Luna got a job so we were able to afford the hospital bills and pay for Mom’s treatments. Then when we were living in LA, she ended up having an affair with some D-list celebrity, got knocked up, and had Tom.”

“It must have been really tough.”

“It still is,” Neil runs a hand through his hair and sighs with frustration. “I never had time to think about the superficial things people our age worry about, like what’s considered cool and popular. I had two women depending on me and a baby cousin who is sucked into his own private world. I did things I knew were necessary like providing money to pay the bills even though my mom was fully against it.” He then switches rapidly into another topic, which throws me off course but then again his brother also shares the same habit.

“Do you know that I haven’t eaten anything from a fast food restaurant in, like, almost forever?” he chuckles to himself divulging in a secret as he leans forward conspiratorially. “There was this one time in school when this classmate of mine wanted to go on a diet, so he traded my lunch with a Big Mac meal. I got sick after a few hours and had to go to the bathroom so many times that my teacher got pissed and sent me home. Since then, I’ve had an aversion to McDonald’s like the plague.”

“Did you ever think that it could have been indigestion or maybe it was just a bad burger?”

“It could have been,” Neil rubs his chin thoughtfully. “But I’d rather not take the risk. Aunt Luna’s methods have proven to be quite effective that my stomach is programmed like this for the rest of my life. I guess once you’re used to not having something good, it doesn’t bother you because you don’t know that it’s good. Although there are times where one can have regrets.” He looks at me thoughtfully and I get this weird feeling he’s talking about something other than food.

I look at the time and notice that two hours have already flown by. Oh my, I’ve forgotten about Iain! He must be so worried. I was having such a good time with Neil and I forgot that my phone was still on silent mode; I never even felt it vibrate in my bag. I check my iPhone and see that he’s left five messages and three missed calls and a voice mail. I quickly read them in order.

Quinn, I’ll pick you up at school. Be there in 5 minutes

I’m at the parking lot waiting. Where are you?

Quinn, I’m worried, please reply ASAP.

Your teacher said that you left an hour ago. WHERE ARE YOU?

LUCY QUINN LIZ FABRAY, YOU BETTER PICK UP YOUR DAMN PHONE!!!!

I pale considerably but I also have this urge to laugh hysterically because of his impudent behavior. He’s really worried. After reading his fifth message, I don’t even want to know what he’s left on my voice box. I send him a quick text saying that I’m with a friend and will be on my way home soon. I don’t need him to pick me up everyday like I’m a five year old child. I care take care of myself! But somehow the thought of Iain being angry because he’s worried doesn’t settle in quite well with me. With a resigned sigh, I look at Neil who seems mildly amused by my facial reaction.

“Boyfriend problems?”

“How can you tell that it was a guy?” I sputter and feel embarrassed realizing what I asked came out wrong. Neil starts biting his lip and his eyes are filled with mirth as he squelches the urge to laugh out loud.

“Well, first of all, you look like you’re going to go hysterical so I gather it’s someone who’s really gotten under your skin. Judging by the way you reacted from my stomach display earlier, I can easily deduce that it was a guy. Though I really wouldn’t mind if you liked girls too.” He teased giving me a wink while grinning evilly like some seductive Cheshire Cat. “’I’m open to dating brunettes, by the way.”

I glare at him. Neil suddenly bursts out laughing. His eyes turn misty from all the merriment. I start getting this feeling that I’ve just elected myself as the hired clown for the Hargreave brothers. In all my time at McKinley High, none of my boyfriends were caught laughing in stitches when they were around me. It’s an odd feeling in a good way that I find myself laughing along with Neil.

“For your information, I’m not into that. I was raised Christian and I believe in what the Bible says that God created man and woman because they were meant to fall in love with each other.”

“Relax, babe I was kidding. I just haven’t had the chance to have fun and flirt with someone as gorgeous as you that I was kind of enjoying myself a little too much. So I apologize for being a jerk.” Neil tilts his head and bows it a little as to atone for his quip.

I suddenly get this mental image of Iain entering my room, running the back of his hand against my cheek, apologizing for his rash behavior before tucking me into bed.

“I really should go,” I hastily return my phone and stand to pick up my bag. Neil gently grabs my hand and stops to look at me earnestly.

“Don’t,” he pleads softly. “I meant what I said. I really had fun being with you. I haven’t felt this way for a long time. Can’t you stay a little longer, please?”

I hate to admit that I’m a sucker for the plight of troubled, tormented, handsome alpha males. Including the one sitting across me. I realize that Neil, having had moved from different states most of his life, apart from losing his mother to cancer and juggling high school while taking care of his aunt and cousin with special needs must suffer from loneliness. “I guess we could have dinner at Breadsticks if you’re up for it. My treat too, please I insist. We can use the coupon vouchers I got online. I’ve been dying to try their buffet special and I have an extra coupon because it was a buy-one-take-one offer.” I cut him off quickly when I note that he’s about to object. Neil is a gentleman and would never allow a girl to pay for his meal, but I also know that he’s proud to admit that he couldn’t afford the food there either.

“Plus, they serve free unlimited breadsticks. I know there’s also an option to have them in organic whole wheat.” I added.

“First I get an offer to be with a beautiful woman, then she tells me that I don’t need to pay for the meal and now I can eat unlimited organic whole wheat products.” Neil looked staggered, gratified and impressed. “What kind of a man would I be to turn down such an offer?” He joked dryly.

* * *

Chapter 12

Iain

Where the hell was that damn girl? I pace anxiously around the parked Beetle at the parking lot of McKinley High. I already left her three messages. Quinn could have made five or six rounds around the entire school premises and I was sure to have seen her. I scan across the many faces of America’s future and find none of them satisfactory. I try calling her, but it ends up going to voice mail. I shrug and make my way inside and look for Mr. Schuster. I find myself entering down across the hall inside a room where I find a pert, redhead with huge brown eyes framing her delicate face. I remember her as the school guidance counselor during my short stint in McKinley. The Mousy Redhead. What was her name again?

“Emma,” I announce my presence as I knock on the door. Emma Pillsbury raises her head and gapes at me with those big brown eyes that look ready to pop out of their sockets. I quell the urge to roll my eyes; here we go again. I want to dispel that unbridled admiring look off her face because I have other things to worry that don’t concern her.

“M-m-mister Hargreave!” the mouse squeaks as she quickly stands to greet me. I raise my hand and shake my head, offering her to sit back again. She obeys dutifully and resumes looking at me with those huge saucers. “Can I help you with something?”

I note that the woman has a nervous tick and that this has nothing to do with me because I know that she suffers from an anxiety disorder and has obsessive compulsive tendencies. I remember my first lunch at the cafeteria when I saw her routinely open her lunchbox. It was methodic, strategic, and highly ritualistic. I know this because I’ve seen the same behavior from this rich sheik I met in Dubai with a severe case of msyophobia. That’s fear of germs in layman’s terms.

“Have you seen Will Schuster? I’ve been trying to contact Quinn on the phone and she’s not picking up. I assumed that maybe the New Directions have practice that I’m not aware of?”

It was common knowledge everyone knew I was Quinn’s acting legal guardian, hence I didn’t have to explain why finding her was imperative. I never needed to explain my actions to anyone and I really could fucking care less what everyone else thought

Emma shakes her head. “Will isn’t in school. He called in sick today so there’s another new teacher who’s taken over Spanish class.”

Wonderful. No glee club practice. Since Quinn is no longer a cheerleader where the fuck could she be? The girl doesn’t have a lot of other extracurricular activities except that she has been organizing a Bible study group, so maybe I could find her there.

“Do you know where she holds her Bible Study group with Mercedes and Sam?” I think about her discussing whatever it is Christian kids talk about. Maybe she’s enjoying her time praising God that she lost track of time.

“Yes, it’s just across my room on the other side, but Quinn already left an hour ago.”

I let out an expletive, ignoring Emma’s shocked reaction and quickly stride off the room. I swear a mouthful and pull out the Blackberry and give the angel with blonde hair and sea foam green eyes another call.

It goes back again to voicemail. This time I leave one and I go on full mean, dictatorial tyrant mode.

“Quinn, so help me God for saying this: But where the fuck are you? I’m coming to get you.” I hang up then quickly press a number on speed dial.

“Mister Hargreave?” A feminine voice inquires.

“Nat, I need a tracing on a phone with the following number.” I give out Quinn’s digits brusquely along with her iPhone serial number, one of the perks of possessing an eidetic memory. There’s a long pause for a moment and I can hear from the other line the IT specialist Natasha Chen typing madly against the keyboard. In less than 30 seconds, she relays to me the exact coordinates. “Stay on her and keep me informed.” I tell her curtly before ending the call.

I quickly get on the car and bring out Quinn’s GPS and type on the coordinates given. Turns out Quinn frequents this place a lot because it’s registered under the category: Food, Restaurant, and Dates. Not that I care if the girl was out on a date, but she could at least have been fucking considerate to tell me.

Then I think about all the clowns in school who could have possibly asked her out. The mere thought of makes me sick as I feel wrath pouring like acid on my flesh. I take a deep breath before I turn on the car engine. Then when I hear the beep from my phone, I quickly grab it and read the text message from her.

Sorry I was with a friend. We went out for coffee and I’ll be home soon.

I’ve been worried sick about you and all you can say is that you’re fucking sorry?! I angrily toss the phone to the passenger seat cursing the girl and myself having cared so much.

Already the task has gotten more complicated.

Focus, Hargreave. Don’t let her get the best out of you.

Maybe she really was having a good time with her friends. I try to think of Quinn and who she likes to hang out with while I’m driving and following the coordinates from the GPS. Maybe she went shopping with Mercedes after a God Squad meeting then they ran into Kurt and Blaine and lost track of time.

The phone rings again. I reach for the passenger seat and pick it up.

“Hargreave,” I bark imperiously.

“Mister Hargreave, it’s Natasha Chen. The subject hasn’t moved and is still presently at the same location. You’re fast approaching at a 5 miles radius. Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I dismiss her and return my phone back to the pocket of my blazer.

That’s right, I console myself, focusing on how to get there than worrying about my exasperating little charge.

She’s just having fun. Being a kid, because that’s who she is, my subconscious tells me though I refuse to listen as I pull up in a small bungalow type restaurant.

The place reminds me of a generic Olive Garden with its big wide windows and walls constructed by stone, obviously made of an average type concrete mixed with ablaster to make it look like stone with vines creeping at the sides on the walls painted in mute yellow and green. I’m not a food critic nor do I care about the exterior of the restaurant, it’s just an inherent observation that is a deep seated force of habit thing I do. Profiling things, people, and business ventures is something I commonly do when assessing something that I know is valuable and would produce profit.

But these past few days, I’ve been behaving irrationally like a mad jealous boyfriend all because I’ve been distracted by a beautiful, blonde teen angel with green eyes whom I should know better that she has no present value in engaging into a relationship with me because she is young, inexperienced and is now acting like a spoiled inconsiderate child in need of a good spanking.

I walk inside, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. It’s noisy, crowded, and there’s a large crowd lining across the buffet table. I quickly scan around the group and when I don’t find her, I turn my attention to the seated couple at the far right of the restaurant. Immediately, my heart stops beating for a second as I catch a glimpse of golden honey colored hair framing a beautiful face that’s haunted me during my days, and most especially my nights. She’s talking animatedly to a tall young man with dark hair who reminds me of that Frankenstein ex-boyfriend of hers. Frankenteen, I used to cleverly nickname Finn but right now I really don’t give a damn about him.

I approach slowly, determinedly, and as I grow closer, I see the shocked reaction on her lovely face as she turns ashen. Her eyes have gone wide and she looks about she’s just ready to cry. She mouths something like “oh my God” which I find ironic because I know it’s a sin for Christians to say the Lord’s name in vain.

“Hello Quinn,” I say with dead calm. I usually am good with hiding my thoughts and feelings and this time it’ll serve me good to do so because all I really want to do is grab her by the hair and take a big club and yell ‘ooga booga boo’ and hit her with it before dragging her back to my cave.

If I wasn’t so angry or resentful, I would have marveled at the capability that this girl has over me. I’ve barely been with her for less than two weeks and already I’ve turned into a paranoid, raving jealous Neanderthal.

“Iain,” she says softly. I can tell that she’s nervous but she looks into my eyes as if pleading me to forgive her.

I barely pay attention to the boy opposite her who looks at both of us in stunned silence. His eyes are speculative as he observes the display of fireworks between me and Quinn.

“You didn’t answer my calls so I tracked you down,” I look at her with disdain as I motion her to scoot over. I take my seat beside her and snake my arm around the seat we’re occupying, staking a claim, but my eyes never leave her face as I watch the emotions play on her delicate features.

“Y-y-you were stalking me?”

“You didn’t leave me any choice. I was worried and you weren’t picking up your phone or answering my messages,” I tell her accusingly, trying desperately to keep my emotions in check.

“Iain, this isn’t a good time.” She falters as I continue to stare her down.

The boy across the table clears his throat. I turn around to glare at Frankenteen.

When I do, I see a young man with similar features like mine. He looks just as shocked but covers it immediately with a mask of indifference which I raise an eyebrow in admiration. Just like Dad, I think. I quickly hide my astonishment as I stare into those familiar blue and golden multicolored striking eyes. They’re gray blue around the iris, like mine but with an orange yellow, almost golden concentric ring surrounding mid-peripheral zone of his eyes, giving it a sunburst appearance. It’s a rare form of central heterochromia, and it only runs in one particular line in my family.

Neil Jacob Hargreave looks calm as a dead winter’s night as he regards me in high amusement. The boy is a perfect carbon copy of our father, I note even by the derisive way he’s looking at me. It strikes me odd that I should still be surprised. I already know what Neil looks like from his records given by the hired private investigator and I know that he’s a spitting image of my dad, but seeing him in the flesh with his cat-like eyes glinting with mischief and his crooked smile unnerves me to the core.

“I’ve always imagined our meeting would have been profound or at least poignant to some degree,” Neil’s gritty voice is tinged with part amusement and sarcasm. “But never in my life had I imagined it would involve having to fight for the attention of a beautiful blonde. I’ve always thought redheads and brunettes were more of your type.”

I ignore the obnoxious jibe coming from the rough young arrogant pup. I turn my attention instead at Quinn who is staring at both of us wordlessly.

“How do you two know each other?”

Quinn for the first time is nonplussed. “I—we—“

Neil, though he may be a dickhead, takes mercy on her. “We met at Bible Study.” He explains smoothly.

Now this is shocking news. I turn my head and look again incredulously at my brother. I still haven’t removed my arm from Quinn’s side. She’s moved closer and is now leaning against me as if hoping to gain some inner strength. My dour mood improves slightly but I don’t feel like analyzing why I feel the way I do. I don’t even want to consider why I’m holding her close and unconsciously rubbing her shoulder back and forth with my thumb like I’m comforting her.

Hell, I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous.

Neil rolls his eyes. “Please try not to act so surprised. I maybe poor, proud and a whole bunch of other things, big brother, but our mother didn’t raise me to be an atheist.”

“I’ll let you catch up,” Quinn murmured as she uselessly pushes and tries to pry herself out of my arm.

“Yeah, big brother. Stop holding on to that pretty girl like you’ll never let her go.” Neil chides, but I can see that he enjoys rattling the hell out of me.

I won’t allow him to get the best of me, because I know that he’s been hurt from the after effects of our parents’ divorce, lonely, and he’s taking it out on me because I’m the only target of Hargreave heritage that’s in proximity. His method to shock and annoy all screams teenage angst.

I reluctantly let my arm go and stand so Quinn can move out of her chair. I give her the keys and tell her to stay in the car.

“We’ll talk later,” I promise giving her a stern look that I was serious and meant it. She nods mutely and scurries away.

I watch with dismay as Quinn makes a beeline for the bathroom. Then I turn my attention to my kid brother who’s watching the scene with amusement.

At this point, I’ve given up having to sugarcoat anything. He’s old enough to understand how life works and how to make decisions for himself so giving any nonsense voluntary conversation was moot at this point. It was also worthless to let an awkward silence pass by between two people who want to move forward but aren’t quite sure how to proceed.

Besides, I couldn’t keep Quinn waiting too long for me.

So instead, I try honesty for a change and ask him the first thing I think of.

“How did you know?”

Neil shrugs his massive shoulders nonchalantly. “Five years ago, I did a school project about central heterochromia. Turns out that I have a rare case and it only runs in a certain genetic line. You’re not the only computer hacking genius in the family, so I did my research. I went through several records and, boom. I found Dad who has eyes exactly like mine. Since I look a lot like him, it was easy to put two and two together.”

“Then why didn’t you come forward?”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffs. “What was I going to do? Walk into one of the Hargreave mansions and make a huge spectacle of myself? Sell my story to the tabloids? Who was going to believe me?”

“I would have.”

“Well it’s too late for that now. Besides, I knew it would’ve broken Mom’s heart.”

I agreed. “Mom would have never wanted you to resort to anything so low.” “I’m surprised that you aren’t angry with her for what you thought she did to Dad.”

“Neil, I’m not one to judge so quickly. I got my facts straight and have this theory of what really happened after the divorce.”

I recount to him the details of the proceedings. How our mother had serenely signed the papers and quietly left. How our father came back to get her, only to be filed a restraining order by the same woman he wronged.

“He was devastated,” I say quietly, my mouth forms a grim line. I shake my head at the memory of how my father grieved for her. “For a long time he was despondent and wouldn’t talk to anyone. I tried to cheer him up, but it was hopeless. He was sad and buried himself to work. Whenever he remarried, he’d find something wrong in the relationship and cut off ties.”

“He could’ve written a damn letter.”

“He tried, Neil,” I interjected. “It was the only form of communication he had left after the restraining order. Despite even that, it all came back as ‘return to sender’. He even knew about the times when you moved from Ohio to settle in Louisiana. When he died in that plane crash, he even knew about New Mexico.”

“Did he ever ask…..about me?” Neil asked dazedly, his expression guarded as he turns his attention to his water glass.

I let out a long sigh and shook my head. “I can imagine he knew about you.” I admitted. “Which explains why he went to Ohio because he wanted to, so to speak, bury the hatchet.”

“When was this?”

“Around a year after the divorce, before the restraining order.” I watch Neil as a myriad of emotions cross his face. I could tell that the emotional chain reaction was now beginning to settle in. He tries to keep an impassive mask, but I know he’s struggling. He’s as tough, but I’m sure as hell that he wasn’t going to cry either. It’s part of the Stuart trait, because being Scottish we’re too proud, arrogant and tough. I then try to soothe the young man by getting more to the point.

“Doesn’t it strike you odd that our own mother would file a restraining order against our father?”

“She was angry, that’s understandable.”

I shake my head. “Think about it, Neil. Think very hard. I may have been a child when this happened, but I remember her. She was kind and never liked to hurt anyone’s feelings. People who remember her loved her, others envied her because not only was she beautiful, but she had a heart of gold. I also know she would have done anything, given up everything to give you the best and make you happy. She loved our father very much which was why she never remarried either.”

I look directly at Neil and he ponders for a moment, considering the ramifications of everything I’ve told him.

“I know it must be hard for you. I know that Mom must have kept you in the dark and how much of a struggle it must have been for you to want to know the truth and to be the only one to take care of her before she passed on.” Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to say the words that our mother was dead.

“I’m telling you now that he did care and more importantly, he cared about you. There’s more that you need to hear, which was why I came to Ohio to find you. Before he died, he hired a lawyer to create an addendum to his will. Kind of an unforeseeable reason that he drew it up a few weeks before his death. You were included in it. All his assets, he bequeathed it to you. He kept it under tight wraps that you weren’t going to be contacted until you reached your 18th birthday. Nobody in our family knows about the will. I only found out last month after I began my search to find you when I saw Aunt Luna’s picture on the news.”

“He left everything to me?” Neil asked incredulously.

“He did,” I answered. “Neil, I don’t need his money. I have more than enough to last me ten reincarnations as a billionaire.”

“I heard about the profits you made out of Grandfather’s inheritance.”

I smile impishly. “It drove his financial officers crazy. But Pop trusted me to use it freely, under close supervision of a trusted adviser and miraculously, I thrived.” I nod as if stating the obvious. “Someday, you’re going to do the same thing too. Make something out of yourself. That was our father’s gift to you.”

Neil nods slowly, digesting the new information. His eyebrows furrow in deep thought, and I get this image of my father with the same expression on his face as his sits on his office table concentrating on one of his files.

“Aunt Luna,” Neil says after a long pause then shakes his head bitterly. “She filed the restraining order.”

That was the answer I hoped to hear. I nod my head.

“Now it all makes sense,” he says softly. I listen as he recounts to me the story when they moved to Ohio. How Aunt Luna had followed them around until my mother’s death. That she had been in a relationship with a married district attorney in Ohio and the possibility that she had acted with that lawyer to file the restraining order.

“Then when Mom was sick, she took care of her.” Neil laughs bitterly. “She felt fucking guilty after what she had done to us and took it on herself.” He looked thoughtful for a while. “She must have also returned the letters as well. She’s a damn good actress too and because she looks so much like her, anyone could have been fooled thinking it was Mom who filed the restraining order.”

“It would be so convenient to hate her,” I remark dryly as I squelch the bile that rose to my throat when I notice Neil go from ashen to furious. “But people are complicated. There’s good and bad. Then there are those in between—like Aunt Luna. Flawed, imperfect people who’ve made terrible mistakes.”

Neil exhales and collects himself. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, we’re just going have to plan things accordingly. I need to make sure that you’re ready to move out and live with us.”

“I’m more than ready,” Neil says determinedly. “I’ve been waiting for this all my life.”

“There’s one more thing you need to know: Derek and Lisa Hargreave were in love despite their differences. She was a beautiful small town girl and he was a wealthy sophisticated man. I wouldn’t be surprised if that made Aunt Luna jealous because we both know her history with the men in her life. When the scandal broke, she thought she was doing the ‘right thing’ by filing a restraining order, pretending to be Mom. I could imagine she thought she could have something to gain thinking if she could ‘seduce’ dad and have him for herself. Or maybe she truly wanted to protect her twin from Dad because he hurt her then when she realized it was a stupid error on her judgment, she tried to make amends by sticking around, hoping that she could contact our father. I don’t know Aunt Luna that well, but like again, what I said. Not everything’s written in black and white and it’s all in different shades of fucked up.”

“That would make sense,” Neil agreed. “She did try to get in touch with him, but was never able to. I remember seeing some long distance calls made to New York and London in one of our phonebills before Dad’s death.”

“And then what happened?” “Nothing. I guess he saw through her and told her off. Because, I remember plying her questions about the phone calls and who she was calling. She told me to forget it and called him a bastard.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Dad never liked her. I think he tolerated Luna because she was Mom’s sister.”

“Isn’t it odd that they’re twins and complete personalities apart?”

“Yeah, our mother was a saint and Luna is the spawn of Satan.”

That got a laugh from Neil. I find myself laughing at the hilarity of it all. Despite the pain and the grief our family endured, I realized that I didn’t have to play a stranger with Neil and form a bond, because it was already there.

“Look, we’ll discuss more tomorrow. I already sent word to Anton and he’ll bring you home.” “You brought along your bodyguard?”

“It’s mandatory,” I tell him. “It’s for safety precautions and all other accouterments that come along with being a Stuart Rolfe Hargreave. You’ll get used to it.”

“Didn’t you live in England for a while before Harvard? It’s amazing that you never acquired the accent.”

“I never forgot I was American,” I answer honestly.

“One more thing,” Neil interrupts as I am about to stand up.

I raise my eyebrow.

“About Quinn…” “Yes?” I ask testily.

Neil bursts out laughing. “Now, I may not have known you that long Big brother, but you’re not scaring me one bit. Your intimidation tactics might’ve worked well with those sissy high powered suits, but you don’t fool me. I’m so glad that we never grew up together because now that I’m bigger than you, you won’t be able to kick my ass with what I have to say.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try,” I growl as I resume back on my seat across my impertinent younger sibling. “But please, do go on.”

“I don’t like it one bit. She has no clue who you really are, does she?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it should be,” Neil disagrees. “Because I happen to like her.”

“Well, you can’t have her.” I blurt out suddenly as my eyes draw into dangerous slits. Fury shoots up my nervous system before I have a chance to think that I might be overreacting.

“Now you’re acting possessive. You like her; she likes you, what’s holding you back?”

“She’s a child, Neil.”

“She was just as old as mom when she married Dad.” He points out dryly. “I remember him being around your age too.” He then scratches his chin thoughtfully. “You know, Quinn does kind of remind me of her. Sweet, blonde, tough on the outside, all sugary on the inside--“

“That’s enough,” I command harshly.

“It’s imperative that you’re going have to tell her sometime, big brother. I’m surprised that she hasn’t gone around asking questions about the whole thing, but maybe she doesn’t want to know either.” Neil scratches his head thoughtfully as if pondering on the possibility.

He quickly clears his throat and looks me in the eye, his voice dead serious.

“If ever you do come around confessing, it isn’t going to matter to her. She’s crazy about you, obviously. She won’t care about your annual net worth, she’ll probably even overlook the fact that you used to be a reckless playboy billionaire tycoon or maybe she’ll even give you hell about that which will probably be so much fun to witness. I hate to admit this but it’s a real trip watching the two of you. I take it you’ve noticed the fireworks whenever you two come in close contact? She’s jumpy when you’re around. She never acts like that, even around me. She keeps this mask on school like she’s the beautiful perfect untouchable teen queen, but I know it’s all a ruse because deep down inside, she is more than beautiful and perfect: she’s also sweet, sensitive, and damn funny when she wants to be.”

Neil pauses to catch his breath and continues.

“I’m sure as hell you’ve noticed too, given your record that you’ve dated the world’s hottest women on the planet. You could have had your pick of women and here you are, acting like you can’t get enough because you can’t keep your eyes and hands off her. Hell, you even dress alike which is by far the creepiest shit I’ve ever seen.” He nods at the red and black checkered shirt I’m wearing underneath my blazer. Quinn was wearing a similar patterned jacket over her cream dress. It was purely out of coincidence because I had left the house early for a meeting in Arizona. I had taken a plane flight and had just come back in time to pick up Quinn.

I didn’t want to admit to my brother that I do notice the fireworks. The same electric feeling whenever she’s near or that I can be so in tune with her thoughts even though she’s never vocalized them out loud. I’ve heard from various people that she’s difficult to read, but I find her reactions quite obvious and equally refreshing. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived in a more sophisticated, complex world where I’ve played the guessing game so many times, in many various forms that I’ve grown tired and despondent for the past few years. From the time I’ve met Quinn in a lobby and see her vulnerabilities; it draws me to her like never before. I lost her and find her again in less than a year, live with her for less than 4 days, have her play a vital role in building a broken relation that lasted for almost 17 years, and now this. For some inexplicable reason, I’ve come to this conclusion that Quinn was perhaps the best thing that’s ever happened to me for I’ve finally found a purpose in my life. That was to make someone’s life better.

Starting with my brother.

Who knows how many more lives I could help out? I’m on a roll at this point.

“Well?” Neil raises an eyebrow.

“Well, what?”

“Think about what I said. Quinn is a smart, beautiful, fine young woman who’s obviously in love with you. I know we’ve all got some shit baggage from our past but someday, you’re going have to figure out what’s stopping you from loving someone like that because she won’t be the kind that’ll hang around if you don’t love her back.”

“And your point now is?” because I just had a feeling that my brother was going to suggest something more.

“So is she fair game? Because if you don’t want her, I do.”

“Get over it.” I command arrogantly and my voice goes hard. I glare at my brother and Neil suddenly bursts out laughing, shaking his head in hilarity as pure gales of mirth eliminate the tense mood that enveloped us earlier. I surprisingly find some amusement in this and give him a smirk.

“Just so you know,” he says when he finally calms down. “I was the first one she asked out on a date.”

“I’m assuming this is one of those coupons vouchers she bought online? They’re useless. It was a scam.”

Neil’s eyes widen in astonishment. “Do you keep records of what she browses online?”

“Just the payments she’s made. The company has already given her a refund on her debit card. Please don’t tell her about it, because she’ll be mortified and go all melodramatic.”

“You’re acting like a stalker, Iain.” It’s the first time Neil addresses me with the nickname I’ve only reserved for my family to call me. To the rest of the world, I was Max Hargreave, CEO and multibillionaire.

“I haven’t been myself for these past few days either.” I admit.

“Heaven help me if I ever end up losing my balls over a beautiful woman.” Neil rolls his eyes. “You should have seen yourself earlier when you first saw her with me.” Neil snickers, savoring the memory as if divulging on a private joke where he’s the only person who knows the punch line. “You looked right about ready to kick my head in the trash bin. You might have even succeeded if I was somebody else.”

I don’t answer him. I’m through with this useless discussion. Neil raises an eyebrow and takes in a deep breath. I don’t even understand my own reaction to my brother’s admission that he wanted Quinn. I was furious, hell, I’m still pissed. So why do I care if my brother likes her just as much? He’s about the same age as she is, albeit a few years younger. Quinn always has this habit for dating naïve idiots anyway and given Neil’s age and inexperience, he’d be the perfect candidate. So why does this even matter to me? Because the mere thought of anyone---but myself---touching her sets my blood boiling.

I notice my brother looking at the bill the waiter leaves on the table. His brows furrow as he settles it on the table and before he reaches in his pocket for his wallet, I interrupt his thoughts.

“Relax, little brother, I got this covered.” I fish down the pocket of my blazer and pull out two hundred dollar bills and place it on the tab like spare change.

“But I didn’t get to pay—“ Neil stammered.

“You can keep the Bentley to compensate for your ‘loss’.”

Neil’s eyes suddenly glow in merriment when he turns around and sees the silver Mulsanne parked. “Really? That’s mine,” he blows out a long whistle. “I can definitely get used to that.”

“That’s not all you’re going to get used to.”

“Is Genevieve really that scary in person as they say?”

“She makes Genghis Khan look like a Golden Retriever,” I answer dryly.

“I heard there’s a sister too. Chelsea, right?”

“You’ll meet them soon.” I promised.

“Oh, and another thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Just remember that I was the bigger man to walk away from Quinn.”

“I should hate you.”

“But you don’t,” Neil points out merrily. “You can’t help yourself.”

I let a long sigh of exasperation as I run my hand through my hair. I was going to have to get used to having a younger brother. I wonder if there’s a manual out there in dealing with one.

* * *

Chapter 13

Quinn

“Well,” Iain said once we return to my house as we walk our way up the path to the front door. “That was interesting.”

We’ve driven inside the car in utter silence. I can’t believe he’s calm the entire time. I knew he was furious when he discovered me and Neil together, but now he acts like as if nothing’s happened. While waiting for him as I was told to do, I sat silently at the car, worrying about the confrontation and how he was going to manage with Neil around. I remember restraining myself from getting out of the car just to check how they were doing. Doesn’t anything ever faze him, I wonder sullenly. The man reunited with someone from his past and he’s acting like as if he just visited an old friend. Surely, somewhere inside him he has got to feel something….or remotely anything.

Suddenly, inexplicable rage pours out of me. I was never the confrontational person, or violent but something red-hot just snapped inside me and I needed a good venting.

Iain turns and was about to ask me something, but he never gets anything out as I launch myself at him, catching him with a headbutt to the stomach and he gives out a grunt. If he had anticipated this move, he would have definitely easily fought me off, but my inner queen bitch nods with satisfaction as I catch him by surprise, knocking him off balance. He trips and I follow, shoving at him until we’re both at the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks as he winces, recovering from the pain of the impact as I’m sprawled on top of his lean, muscular body.

I barely take notice because I’m angry. “How could you be so cold, callous and uncaring?” I shriek.

“What are you talking about?”

“You just met your brother, whom you never knew existed until a few months ago. The only emotion you’ve shown was anger because you were worried where I have been, and here you are acting like you could care less that you’ve met Neil? Do you possess any feelings at all? Or is your heart made out of stone?”

I begin whacking him on the chest with my fist.

That felt good.

I do it again.

“Ow! Will you quit doing that,” Iain glares at me when he grabs my arm. I’m too pissed to notice that his grip is surprisingly gentle albeit firm.

I try doing it with my other free arm. “He was alone!” Whack. “He took care of your mother.” Whack. “Until the day she died, he was there with her.” Whack. Whack. “Don’t you miss her at all?” Whack. Whack. Whack. “How could you not feel anything after all that?” Whack. Whack. Whack.

He tries to catch the other swinging arm, but I’m too quick for him.

“Oh, so this is about Neil?” Iain asks flatly. His voice has taken a hard edge at the mention of his brother’s name. If I wasn’t so frustrated with him, I would have realized that Iain sounded jealous and was resentful that I was considering his brother’s feelings than his.

“No, you idiot!” I yell as I whack him again at the chest. “This has nothing to do with your brother.”

“Then would you mind telling me why you’re so angry? Stop hitting me, it’s not going to accomplish anything.”

He finally succeeds and grabs the other arm. I find myself flipped on my back with Iain on top of me. In this bizarre turn of events, Iain grins unexpectantly. It’s the look on his clean-shaven face that stops me momentarily. The expression transforms him. Before he had been handsome in a stern, intimidating way, but now he looks boyish and disheveled as a lock of black-brown hair now falls carelessly on his forehead. I bleakly think of how many women would voluntarily drop their panties over that grin.

I start to feel a bubble of panic rise, as I try to knock him off, but it’s completely futile as he has pulled my arms over my head, imprisoning my wrists with one hand, while the other supporting his weight. I’m acutely aware of this uncompromising position now that we’re face-to-face and I swallow hard upon the realization of our almost intimate posture. Even though I’m acutely aware that he’s heavy and half-squeezing the life out of me with his weight, my heart starts pounding crazily as I take in the smell of him mixed with that heady combination from his expensive after shave, the smell of fresh cut grass, and the blue sky floating dreamily above us.

“Let me up…..now!” I demand as I fight, struggle, writhe, and squirm, feeling the panic attack rising again when I notice his gaze intensifying, his pupils dilated. He isn’t breathing hard as he holds me helplessly in this position. When I realize that he isn’t going to do anything, I finally stop.

“You ready to talk?” He asked, but I could swear his voice sounds hoarse.

“Don’t you feel anything at all?” I ask softly. “If it were me, I’d be shouting my head off, with all this frustration and crazy that’s gone by for sixteen years. I’m mad, Iain. I’m angry for your behalf because I’m your friend and I…care about you.” I can’t bring myself to admit that I feel more than that. I add hastily, avoiding the topic. “I’m also hurt that you won’t let me in on what you’re thinking; I thought that’s what friends do, tell each other things about themselves because they trust each other. But here you are, acting cold, unfeeling like you don’t care and it’s….tearing me apart.” I turn my head because I don’t want him to see the tears welling up my face. “I’m not supposed to care, Iain but I do. I know that you aren’t willing to share everything that’s ever happened to you, because that’s who you are, but can’t you at least let me in?”

There’s a long sharp intake of his breath. I realize that I’m finally getting through to him. Sometimes, I swear for a remarkably smart man, Iain can be so obtuse. He’s probably been thinking that I was worried about Neil’s feelings, when it was him I worried about most. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that even while I spent time with his charismatic, charming brother, he was all I could think about from that time at the coffee shop to Breadsticks when he saw us.

“When I was few years younger than Neil, I got into a lot of brawls.” He said quietly. I barely notice that he’s let go of my wrist and moves slightly to adjust his weight despite not moving elsewhere as he stares down looking at me. There’s an contained expression on his handsome features as if he’s just analyzing his thoughts for the first time. “I was pretty pent-up all the time so I picked fights with anyone at anytime. I didn’t care if they were bigger or they were more in number than I could handle. I was angry and wanted to do serious harm. I’d come home with black eyes and a cut lip. It drove my father and great-grandmother crazy. I was almost expelled at one of my former schools.”

“When was this?” “Early teens. They immediately sent me to Scotland to deal with my drama.”

“How did you overcome it?”

He smiles bitterly at the memory of it. “I had a teacher, a former military man, who saw I had potential when it came to contact sports so he made me join the varsity football. Plus he made me do crazy army drills like as if it were juvenile boot camp; I also learned how to play rugby and martial arts during my stay there. I was a natural at soccer, but my great-grandmother would never allow me to play professionally.” He snickers at the memory. “You should see how the Scots play football. It can get pretty out of control sometimes that survival is a necessity than scoring a goal,” he jokes chuckling at the memory.

“Did you find some other way to vent your anger?”

“I did some target shooting too.” Iain added. “I think all the gun powder and deafening sounds made me lose my frustration all together.”

“Are you going to let me up now?” I’m now highly aware that we’re still lying on the ground. I want to move as far as possible away from him as I can. It’s hard to imagine that Iain was the brawling type. My heart goes out to the image of a young dark-haired pre-teen who was helpless, angry, and confused. Not to mention lonely, having to live a life without his mother who was a thousand miles away and a father who was barely there when he was hurt and needed him the most.

Plus, I was finding it harder to concentrate. With my anger dissipated, all I now feel is something close to yearning. To run my hand against that unruly lock of hair, to feel that hard, freshly shaven angled face on my hand. I felt a small ache running through my heart imagining Iain as a young boy coming home with a bruised eye and cut lip

“Depends if you’re going to hit me again.” He says dryly as he looks at my lip, which I know is quivering with something related to excitement. He reluctantly lets me up, but his eyes have a dark shimmer to them and I imagine for a second that he’s feeling the same surge of desire I felt earlier. I shake my wayward thoughts as he rolls away and sits up, offering me to do the same. We sit side by side together in silence as we look at the sun set on my front lawn.

“I was resentful for a long time,” Iain says quietly after a long companionable stillness. “I blamed my dad, my mom, and even myself for everything that happened. I blamed my dad for being too proud for not being able to get her back; I blamed my mother for being helpless and not doing anything to stop my great-grandmother from sending me to live with her in England. For a while, I even thought that maybe I was to blame for their divorce.”

“Iain, it wasn’t your fault. You were a child.”

“I know that now,” he agrees, his voice solemn. “It just got to a point that I was so tired of being angry that when I was old enough, I forced myself to stop with the nonsense. I did just that, accepted the things I couldn’t change and moved on. Since then, I haven’t shown any form of extreme emotion. So forgive me if you think I’m a cold, heartless clout.”

“I’m sorry,” I say honestly, putting my hand on his arm. He rewards me with a careless half smile and holds my hand by giving it a firm squeeze.

He shakes his head. I’m acutely aware that he has made no effort to retract his hand. “No, you were right to call me out on my bluff. I should have considered Neil’s feelings as well. He’s a remarkable kid. Mature for his age, bright, insightful, and a hell of a lot more selfless than I was when I was his age. He looks and reminds me a lot of my father. It’s a shame they never met. If there’s anything that I feel towards this….it’s regret.”

“What are you going to do about it? I mean, the whole thing with Neil and everything else?”

He lets a long exasperated sigh. “It’s going to be a shock. The rest of my family doesn’t know because my father kept his will and Neil’s identity a secret. He left a clause specifically not informing everyone that he wasn’t to be contacted until he reached 18 years old. I found an article about my mom’s twin some months ago and had I not been as persistent, I wouldn’t have known about him either.”

“So what happened to your father’ assets? Surely there would have been questions about father’s will?”

“He gave some to charity. He invested a company that was in mass producing spy cameras so that was a booming business, but he left a quarter to be handled by his trusted employees and financers, while the rest, he invested in other stock, which now Neil currently will inherit. So when he died, his company ran just as efficiently and managed to go on even without him.”

“Iain?”

“Yes?”

“There are things about you that I know you’re not ready to tell me. I understand why you hesitate in doing so, but I thank you for at least letting me in some part of your life.” I tell him quietly.

It’s the truth.

I already knew the minute Iain stepped in our house that he came from money. Actually, I knew it the minute I saw him at the lobby in the Intercontinental, looking like a handsome, worldly, young prince dressed in expensive designer clothes. For a while, I had been dying to ask him about who he was, but I realize that he’s already showing that side of him that I’ve never known which I find far more valuable than his money. This part of him is what I found most attractive and endeared him further to my heart. He’s sensitive, sometimes a bit moody and unpredictable, but that excites me like no other, he also has a kind heart, seeing how considerate he’s been with Neil. I noticed how his younger brother goaded him into a fight, but Iain remained composed and collected like a dignified diplomat. There were times when he allows himself to show me his vulnerability that I could catch that glimpse of the young boy who eagerly played the piano and the angry teenager who blamed himself for what transpired between his parents’ marriage.

Iain looks at me wordlessly. He looks nonplussed as he stares with this unreadable expression on his face. I excuse myself and go back to the house to collect my thoughts and give us some distance. When I’m inside, I glance at the window and look again at the front lawn where Iain and I tussled earlier. He was still sitting where I left him. He appears pensive and has the loneliest expression on his face. I would’ve comforted him, but right now I’m confused by my own emotions and the gravity of what transpired today that I leave him and march straight to bed.

The next two days pass by with a blur. I avoided Iain deliberately because I saddened by the idea that I knew the inevitable was coming to a close. He was everything I wanted, but I knew it was impossible to have him. It was because I knew I had a life ahead of me and pursuing a relationship with someone who obviously couldn’t commit either was fruitless. Plus, I didn’t want to miss him too much either.

My mother and Fran would be returning from their trip in less than three days so I busied myself with my scholarship application, doing more research about Yale, studying for my finals, devoting my time to God squad and Glee club. I even tried convincing Sue Sylvester for another try at Cheerios which she relented saying that she would consider it. I would only come down and eat breakfast, only to be driven by Anton, whom I already suspected worked for Iain. Anton would glance at me in silence with a questioning look on his face, which I ignored as well. Then, at dinnertime, I would carry a tray up to my bedroom and spend the rest of the evenings upstairs studying for my finals. Iain was pretty much MIA as well, because he was busy arranging what I was thinking was a reunion involving introducing Neil with the rest of his family.

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#Glee #glee fanfiction #quinn fabray #rachel berry #noah puckerman #finn hudson #kurt hummel #mike chang #tina cohen chang rp #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #romance

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iwroteinapastlife · 7 years

Text

005:223:09:31:04

Finally, two days late, I bring my contribution to @thinkoutsidethelovesquare with a Soulmate AU that was supposed to be a drabble and just wouldn’t quit.

AO3 link here.

Enjoy! <3

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now, Nino, you may kiss the bride.”

Everyone cheers as the happy couple share their first kiss as a married couple. It’s barely even a kiss with how much Nino is smiling, but that makes it even cuter. Some of us weren’t sure if he would ever manage to drag Alya to the altar and just like everyone else, I’m clapping and smiling, happy that he finally did it. But unlike the others, I have another reason to be smiling. As I watch them walk back down the aisle, my mind travels back to the day it all began.

It’s the first day of school and five year old me is a nervous wreck. With my mother’s hand in my right and clutching a brand new sketchbook in my left, I walk with my head held as high I can handle into the room of fourteen other children. I try not to cry as my mother lets go of my hand and tells me to be brave. I’ve never been brave, she knows that. She says I’ll make lots of friends. That’s another thing I’ve never been good at.

I sit down in the circle with the other kids and distract myself by observing each of them in turn. The boy next to me is kind of big and scary, but a closer look at his grey eyes tells me that he’s kinder than he seems. The blonde boy next to him seems completely at ease, green eyes open and ready and I can’t help but feel envious of his confidence. He’s listening intently as a spikey-haired boy next to him excitedly tells him about something. From what I can hear, I think it’s about sports. Next to them is a girl who might be even more nervous than me, amber eyes downcast and long dark hair covering half her face. Maybe I can make friends with her. After her is a pink haired girl who could probably kill me with a single look from those daring blue eyes. She seems to be listening to the spikey haired boy talk about sports, but I think she’s trying to hide it. Next is a boy who seems completely oblivious to the outside world, clicking away on a calculator. Does he already know how to use that? He must be really smart. Next to him is a girl I can identify with. She has her blue eyes fixated down in her sketchbook so black hair keeps falling in her face no matter how many times she pushes it back behind her ears. He makes a mental note to ask her what she’s sketching later. Watching over her shoulder is an excited girl with reddish auburn hair and warm grey eyes. That would drive me insane; I hope she doesn’t do that to everyone. Next is a sweet looking girl with blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I have no doubt that she’ll make friends with ease. She’s having what looks like a pleasant conversation with the girl next to her, another blonde with bright hazel eyes wearing a pink headband. Next to her is a red headed girl who seems absolutely enthralled in whatever the blonde on the other side of her is saying. The blonde’s voice is kind of annoying and she’s just going on and on about a bunch of stuff she has. That must be the girl my mother told me about, the mayor’s daughter. Another girl with long brown hair and green eyes is on her other side, listening and chiming in occasionally with comments that seem to annoy the blonde. And last is the boy in the hat right next to me, listening to music on his headphones. I’m debating tapping on his shoulder and maybe asking what he’s listening to when the teacher comes in.

“Good morning class! Welcome to the first day of school! Can we all start by saying hi? Look around the room and wave hi to everyone.” I try not to look too nervous as I wave, but making direct eye contact with so many people is one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. None of them seem too mean, though, so at least there’s that. “Very good, everyone! I’m Madame Bustier and I’ll be your teacher for the year. How about we go around the room and—,”

Everyone turns their head as the blonde rich girl gasps, staring down at her arm. “My time stopped!” There’s some rustling around the room as others check the time on their arms.

“Mine too!” one kid says.

“And mine!” yells another.

I nervously glance at my arm. The timer is covered right now by the sleeve of my shirt. It’s been counting since the day I was born, always telling me exactly how old I am, down to the second. My mother said that it’ll stop counting when something really special happens, but I have to be patient. She showed me that hers didn’t stop counting until she was 23 years old. I always thought that it would just keep ticking for a really long time, and I’m surprised that the mayor’s daughter’s already stopped. After all, nothing really special just happened, did it? All we did was say hi.

As even more kids around the room announce that their time has stopped, I pull back my sleeve.

005:223:09:31:04

5 years, 223 days, 9 hours, 31 minutes, and 4 seconds.

I wait for the 4 to turn into a 5 like it always does.

It doesn’t.

Thirteen. Thirteen kids out of the fifteen that were in that class had their time stop that day. All at the moment that the teacher had us say hi.

Back then I didn’t know why it was a big deal, but I quickly found out since it was the only thing the class talked about for days. I had heard the term soulmate before then, but never really knew what it meant. I still wasn’t really sure what it meant until my time had already been stopped for seven years and Marinette was looking at me with those sparkling blue eyes.

We had been teamed up for an art project and I had finally gotten to know the twin tailed girl I had been interested in from day one. And wow, she was amazing. I had always admired her looks. When I had eventually gotten into drawing people, she had been one of the classmates I drew most often. Not because I had a crush on her or anything like that (yet), but because I just thought her features were very objectively pleasing.

But watching her tell me about fashion and seeing her so animated and bubbly, smiling with her whole heart…I was lost. That was when I knew that Marinette was my soulmate.

I want to tell her. I’m smiling and nodding as she shows me some of her sketches and all I can think is that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her. That the rest of the thirteen can cross us off their lists because it’s me and Marinette, happily ever after.

But as I open my mouth to speak, my tongue is suddenly dry. I’m a stuttering mess as I try to so much as speak her name. She’s looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes, patient as ever, and I can’t even say it.

So we do the art project and move on, and I’m angry at myself. And I’m drawing her every day and I’m dreaming about her at night, and I’m pacing around my room, just trying to figure out how to tell her, and I…can’t.

I’m going to tell her today, I tell my 15-year-old self. I’ve spent weeks trying to make the perfect portrait of her and I’ve finally settled on the one that gets the closest to her beauty. It’s her birthday today and I’m determined. I’m going to give it to her and tell her that I like her and that I want to date her because I think she’s my soulmate. I can do it. I can do it.

The bell rings. I take the portrait out and stand up, about to walk to the front of the room where she’s getting ready to leave.

Chloé beats me to her.

“Don’t think that you’re special, just because he gave you a present.” Marinette looks up at the bully with wide eyes while Alya glares, already sensing danger.

“W-What?”

“Adrien is just too nice not to give you a present. You aren’t special, he gives me birthday presents too.”

Marinette’s expression falls and her best friend steps forward.

“What is wrong with you, Chloé? It’s her birthday for crying out loud, can’t you give her a break for just one day?” The blonde looks at her nails with disinterest.

“I just don’t want it going to her head. He probably did it out of pity because he knows about her silly crush on him.”

I don’t hear the rest of the conversation, even if it does happen at elevated volumes, because in that moment my heart sinks. One glance at Marinette confirms the bully’s words and I’m devastated. I cry as I fall asleep that night and I wonder if I’m wrong. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she’s meant to be with Adrien.

But the next day she greets me with a smile and I know I’m not wrong. She has a crush on Adrien, and I can’t blame her; he’s like the human embodiment of the sun. But that doesn’t mean her feelings won’t change. They will. Because I’m looking at the rest of the thirteen and I know that it isn’t them. It’s Marinette.

I give her the portrait and the joy it brings her is enough to have me smiling for days. Then she hugs me and I feel like I can fly. I think about telling her right then and there. I’m finally not stuttering around her, after all. But just because I know right now doesn’t mean she does. She still has a crush on Adrien, so I need to be patient. But that’s okay. I can wait as long as it takes. Even if that’s ten more years.

We’re finishing school and about to head our separate ways and the past three years have only made me more and more sure as time went on. Myléne and Ivan started dating fairly early on, and no one was surprised when Juleka and Rose announced that they were a couple (most of us thought they already had been for years), and Nino and Alya became official about a year ago. The list was dwindling and I still couldn’t take my eyes off Marinette.

But now I’m feeling like I’m out of time. I had been an idiot and assumed that she would always be around, that I could always wait another day before telling her, because we were soulmates and we can’t possibly say goodbye forever.

Then I found out she was going to study fashion in America.

Suddenly it’s the last day of school and my heart is racing and I don’t know how to tell her. Because we all know she’s still head over heels for Adrien and even if I know she’s wrong, she doesn’t. But why would she have a reason to think otherwise if I’ve never told her how I feel?

I’m an idiot!

And I have to tell her. I have to tell her now.

So I pick up my yearbook, ready to use it as an excuse, and I head toward the front of the room. And she greets me with a smile and asks if she can sign my yearbook before I have a chance to say anything. And my hand is shaking as I pass it to her and she hands me hers in return and my palm is sweaty as I try to remember how to use a pen. I consider confessing to her in her yearbook, but I know that would be stupid. So I write down a heartfelt note about how great she is and how I know she’s going to be famous one day, and I tell her to keep in touch just like everyone else does but I hope she’ll really do it. And I hand it back to her and she smiles at me and the words are on the tip of my tongue and I’m going to do it, I’m going to say it.

I open my mouth.

“Marinette, will you sign my yearbook?” someone asks.

And I can’t do it.

We’re two years out of school when Rose shows up at my studio and asks me on a date. Needless to say, I’m confused. We were all 100% sure she was Juleka’s soulmate.

“I found Juleka too soon,” she says. “We weren’t supposed to meet so early in life. We’re supposed to experience the world first, and learn who we are and what we want and then we’re supposed to meet our soulmates and form lasting bonds with them. But Juleka and I…we just ended up together because we knew all along and I… I never got to explore my attraction to guys.”

“So you two are on a break?”

“I guess, sort of. Or we might be broken up. I guess it sort of depends on how dating guys goes.” I watch as she stares down at the cup of tea I had given her. She studies the surface of the liquid with troubled eyes and her fingers nervously trace the rim of the mug.

“Rose.” The way her head snaps up, as if she’d forgotten I was there, confirms exactly what I’m thinking. “As honored as I am that I was your first choice of guys to date, I have to ask. Are you sure you want to go on a date?” Her frown was answer enough.

I spend the rest of the day with her, just talking and drinking tea there in the studio. She tells me about her relationship with Juleka and the way she blushes and smiles when she talks about her is enough to erase whatever doubt I might have ever had about them. I understand her desire to give guys a try before committing for the rest of her life, but even she knows it’s going to be Juleka at the end of it all.

She asks about me and for the first time in my life, I confess that I had been crushing on Marinette for years. Rose is bubbly and supportive just like she always is, but I can see the doubt behind her eyes. I ask for her honesty.

“It’s just…she’s so head over heels for Adrien.”

I sigh. “I know. That’s why I never said anything back in school.”

“Have you considered anyone else?”

I shrug. “I’ve glanced at the others, but nothing seems right.” Rose is pensive and there’s some silence as we both sip at our tea.

“What about Chloé?”

I nearly spit out my tea. She can’t possibly be serious. But I look up and there isn’t even the slight semblance of a smile on Rose’s face.

“You’re joking.”

“She’s not that bad, you know. Have you seen her at all since leaving school?”

“No, and I don’t plan to. She was awful.”

“I’ll admit, she could be kind of mean sometimes.” I smile as I take another sip of tea. Classic Rose, unable to say anything bad about even the worst of people. “But she’s come a long way since then. I bumped into her the other day while getting coffee and she stopped and sat down with me.”

“Rose, I’m sure you’re right and she isn’t actually evil incarnate. But even still, she and I are such opposites. I can’t imagine ever getting along with her.”

Rose rolls her eyes at me. “Fine. What about Adrien?”

My back straightens up in surprise. “Adrien?”

“Yeah. You’re into guys, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Do you not think he’s cute?”

“Are you kidding? He’s literally a model.”

“And he’s super sweet.”

“That’s true…”

“Of course, the rest of the class is pretty convinced he’s Marinette’s soulmate, but hey, someone’s crush has to be wrong in this situation.”

“I guess I’ve been so busy considering him my competition that I hadn’t considered it.”

Rose smiles and lifts the cup to her lips. “Consider it.”

It’s a few months later and everyone is in the same room again for Ivan and Myléne’s wedding. They were steady this whole time, but everyone is still talking about how this means they are officially off the list.

I watch Adrien smiling and laughing across the room as he talks to Nino and I realize that I really should consider it. That’s what leads me to ask him to dance.

We laugh and stumble about the dance floor. Neither of us knows how to dance with another guy, since we were both taught how to lead. Eventually I say that I’ll follow and we settle into a nice rhythm. We talk about life and how things have been going since school. Adrien tells me that he’s working on getting a degree in physics while still keeping up his modeling career and I tell him that I’ve been working out of my own private studio for a while now. He asks if I still make comics and I can’t believe he still remembers.

“I still make them sometimes in my free time if inspiration strikes, but I’ve never been too good at the story part of it. I would need to work with a writer if I really wanted to get something going there.”

“That’s too bad. I bet you would make the best comics.” I blush at the compliment and laugh nervously.

“T-Thanks, but I’m not that good…”

“Nath.” I brought my eyes back to his again at the sudden seriousness in his tone. “You’re an amazing artist.”

I can only blink as my cheeks no doubt start to resemble my hair. “I, uh, u-um, t-thank you.”

Adrien looks away and smiles and I wonder if I’m imagining the slight dusting of blush on his cheeks. “I was always really envious of your art in school. I considered asking you to teach me how to draw a few times, but I was too nervous.”

“You were too nervous to talk to me?”

“Yeah…” his smile grows and now I’m positive I’m not imagining the blush. He even stutters a little bit as he speaks and I can’t believe it’s even possible for Adrien Agreste to get like this. “I-I kind of had a crush on you.”

My feet carry on dancing, but for at least five seconds, my mind goes completely blank. It’s as if I blacked out, but the mere glass of champagne I had definitely wouldn’t be enough for that. “Y-You did?” finally stumbles out of my mouth as thoughts start moving again.

He laughs nervously and I can’t believe how cute he is. “Yeah. I kind of still do actually.”

Adrien Agreste is blushing and nervous in front of me telling me that he likes me and the inside of my brain is just a chorus of screaming. Now I know why Rose wanted me to consider it.

“I-I—but you’re—and I’m—but—what?”

He’s still smiling, but now he looks nervous about my reaction. “Are you… Is that…okay?”

I swallow nervously, not sure if I can speak properly right now. Suddenly I’m very aware that we’re surrounded by people and it’s warm and kind of stuffy. “Want to step outside with me?”

He barely has a chance to say yes before I’m taking his hand and speed walking out to the balcony. Thankfully, there’s no one else out there and the air is clear and warm and my brain already feels a million times clearer after just one breath.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You, Adrien Agreste, famous model, have a crush on me.

“Yes?”

“You.”

“Yes.”

“Like me?”

“Yep.”

“You??”

He laughs. “Nath, what is this about?”

“You’re literally a model! I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time believing this.”

“Being a model means I can’t have crushes?”

“Not on me! I’m just…me.”

He looks at me and I know I’m blushing because wow, no one has ever looked at me like that. “Nathanaël, you’re not just anyone.”

Wow, that’s so cliché. And I’m falling for it anyway.

“So… So what does this mean?” I eventually ask. “Do you want to…date me?”

That’s when Adrien’s expression falters. He looks out at the sunset longingly and I can’t help but think how picturesque the moment is. “That’s the thing. I can’t really date anyone with my modeling career going on. My father would kill me, and even aside from that, it’s just too much drama. That’s part of why I never told you before. I just couldn’t help myself tonight,” he says as he looks at me again, quite clearly checking out my entire body, “You look so cute.” I wondered if the purple collared shirt and black vest looked as good as I thought it did. It must if it had Adrien Agreste confessing to me. “So, I can’t exactly date. Or at least, not in public…”

I blush and try not to show how much the idea of a secret relationship turns me on.

And then I say something that surprises us both.

“What are you doing tonight?”

We’ve been dating in secret for a few months when we’re both lying in bed staring at the ceiling, completely quiet and lost in our own thoughts. I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking about the same thing, but neither of us knows how to start. Eventually Adrien rolls onto his side so he’s facing me.

“Hey, Nath?” I roll onto my side to face him too. He looks so nervous, but for some reason, I’m not. It all feels so natural and clear and somehow, I feel completely calm. “I… I don’t really know how to say this. I-I really like you, and these past few months have been great, a-and…”

He trails off and I take his hand in mine, giving it a loving squeeze, and I speak the words we both know are true. “We’re not soulmates.”

He sighs and he looks so sad and I just wish I could erase that emotion from his capability. I reach out and brush some of his beautiful, soft, golden hair behind his ear.

“I really like you,” he says. I smile.

“I really like you.”

“But it’s just not right.”

“We’re just not meant to be.”

He looks like he might cry. I wonder when the urge will hit me. I’m sure it will once I’m alone, but right now it’s so far from me I wonder if I’m in some sort of denial. I try to cheer him up as I continue to comb my fingers through his hair. “This doesn’t have to be sad, Adrien. So we’re not soulmates. That’s okay. That means that we’re both going to find something that’s even better than this. And this…is pretty great. We don’t have to remember it as anything less.” He smiles through the pain.

“I don’t want to keep wondering who it is,” he eventually says. I laugh.

“Me neither.”

“Any ideas?”

I sigh and roll onto my back again. I take up his hand again though, not quite ready to let it go. “I dunno, man. You?”

“I guess I could actually take up Chloé on one of her endless offers.”

“Ew,” slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. He playfully slaps me.

“Stop it, she’s not that bad.”

“Rose said that too, but I’m yet to be convinced.”

“Have you talked to her since school ended?”

“No.”

“Well that’s why.” I turn my head to look at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling again.

“Would you really date her?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. She decided I was her soulmate on day one for no other reason than because we were both rich and it made sense. Our moms became friends, so we started seeing each other outside of school and I was able to really be friends with her, but… I don’t know. It’s just hard to consider after spending so long rebuffing her advances.” He chuckled. “Maybe you should date Chloé.”

I smack him with a pillow and he laughs and I wish he was my soulmate so I could share moments like this with him forever. “Rose said that too. What is with you two?”

His laughter trickles out as he speaks again. “I don’t know, I can kind of see it. She really isn’t what you think. She was handed everything her whole life, so going to school and dealing with people that weren’t just going to give her whatever she wanted was pretty new to her. Obviously she didn’t deal with it very well. But she’s never been a horrible person underneath, and she’s learned a lot after entering the business world.”

“Business?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know? She’s studying business and plans to inherit the hotel from her father.”

“Huh, well that’s cool. I’m still not interested in her though. She once said that she likes pineapple on pizza.” Adrien laughs again and my heart aches with how much I want to love him.

“Fair enough,” he says. “What about Alix?”

“I mean, maybe? She’s ace though, and as you’ve seen, sex is pretty important for me.” Adrien chuckles at that.

“That’s certainly true. It’d be a shame for your body to go to waste anyway.” At that he grins and winks and somehow he still has me blushing.

“Which means you shouldn’t date Alix either,” I shoot back. I won’t try to wink. We both know I’m terrible at it. He laughs.

“We all know she’s going to end up with Kim anyway. Well. We all, except Kim.”

“Don’t forget Max,” I add.

“Do you think Max and Alix are also soulmates? Or is it just Kim and Max and Alix and Kim?”

“I don’t really know. They definitely get along well, but I’m not sure there’s any romance there. Should ask next time we see them.”

“Well,” Adrien interjects, “this is all assuming they’re Kim’s soulmates.”

“Oh don’t worry, Max knows that already and I wouldn’t be surprised if Alix did too.”

“He does? But doesn’t Kim still think it’s Chloé?”

I laugh as I answer him. “Yeah, you should watch Max’s face whenever Kim mentions it. The guy is patient, I’ll give him that.”

Adrien chuckles. “Imagine that. Knowing who your soulmate is and having to wait for them to realize it.” I have to tell myself not to mention Marinette. It’s not like I wouldn’t tell Adrien about my crush on her. It’s that telling him would also involve outing her crush on him, and that’s something I won’t do to her. I’m not sure I want to start thinking about her again yet anyway. Having her out of my mind for the last few months has been really nice and I’m not ready to let it go yet. “Meanwhile I’m over here wishing it were my boyfriend,” he continues, tone suddenly somber. Somehow we’re facing each other again and he’s looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes that are sparkling so bright in the aftermath of so many emotions.

I scoot forward and kiss him, letting myself enjoy the feeling of his lips gliding against mine. In that moment, I don’t care if we aren’t soulmates. I’ve loved every moment I’ve spent with him. I’ve loved every kiss, every touch, every everything.

He kisses me back, pressing his lips against mind and opening his mouth just enough to slip his tongue through. His hand connects with my waist and he draws me to him, leaning forward until I’m on my back underneath him. “Is this okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “Even if we’re not soulmates?”

I hook my arms around his neck and look into his pretty green eyes. “I’m okay with it if you are.”

And then he kisses me and it’s so sweet but so so bitter.

Juleka and Rose are one of the most aesthetically pleasing couples to exist as they stand at the altar in their personalized white dresses. Juleka’s is elegant and perfectly suited for her with beautifully patterned lace stretching across her shoulders, a simple form fitting shape, and a long train trailing behind her. Rose’s, on the other hand, looks like a summer dress with no straps and a skirt that cuts off mid-calf and flutters every time she moves. They look absolutely stunning and I decide right then and there that I want to paint a portrait of this moment and send it to them as an additional wedding gift.

A few years have passed since their brief time apart (they had gotten back together less than a week after my “date” with Rose), and now two more are “officially off the list” as Alya puts it. She and Nino are going on five years, but when asked she still acts as if anyone could be her soulmate. Nino just rolls his eyes and pulls her into a kiss. We all know they’re off the list, even if she’ll never “officially” admit it.

Marinette smiles when she sees me from across the reception hall. We haven’t seen each other since she got back from America. She leaves again in a few weeks to start her final year of school, and while in the past we’ve always managed to have lunch or something whenever she’s back, we’ve both just been so busy that we haven’t been able to this time.

She walks up and hugs me and I know I’m not over her. I may not be a blushing mess around her anymore, but she’s still so beautiful and talented and smart and just overall amazing and wow, I really think she’s my soulmate.

“A rare sighting of the elusive Nathanaël Kurtzberg!” she remarks with a smile. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me? You’re the one who disappears to another continent for nine months every year.”

She giggles. “You got me there. Want to dance with me?”

“Sure!” I say, and I have to remind myself that Marinette is a social butterfly. She acts like this with everyone and always wears that infectious smile and I can’t let it get to my head. She may be my soulmate, but I’m done trying to tell her for now. It would be useless to start something and then have her leave again.

Marinette and I fall into a rhythm dancing and she strikes up a conversation by asking what I’ve been up to. I tell her about my studio and how I may not be making a fortune but I’m still making plenty and I’m loving what I do. I ask her about school and she says it’s tough but a lot of fun. She says she’s learned so much about designing and about the business of fashion and she can’t wait to officially enter the fashion world in a year. She’s already got an internship lined up with Gabriel when she graduates and she couldn’t be more excited. I tell her I would expect no less than an internship at one of the best and most selective fashion lines from her. She’s truly such a talented person and I know she’s going to go far with her designs. She giggles and thanks me, then starts picking my brain about the commissions I’ve had going lately.

Speaking with Marinette just flows so smoothly I can hardly believe I’m half of the conversation. With anyone else there are lulls and pauses and awkward instances of talking over each other or talking about the weather because it’s so impossible to think of anything else to say. But with Marinette everything is just so natural. I wonder if she’s like this with everyone or if it’s just me. I want to believe it’s just me and take it as another sign that we’re soulmates, but I’m pretty sure I know better. She’s just one of those people. One of those people who just manage to get along with everyone—kind of like Rose, but without the blind optimism. She’s just so sweet and supportive and perfect that it’s absolutely impossible to hate her. The only person I’d ever heard of hating her was Chloé and that was just because she was jealous. It might have even been because Chloé herself had a crush on Marinette. I wouldn’t be surprised. Looking at her beautiful smiling face I can’t imagine a person who wouldn’t fall for her.

At the end of the night, Marinette and I part ways again and I still haven’t told her, but I’m okay with that. I tell myself that I’m waiting until next summer when she’s back for good. Once she’s officially back in France, that’s when I’ll tell her.

The Gabriel internship sends her to America since she’s already familiar with it. I keep in touch with her of course, but I can’t tell her.

Twenty years have passed since the day that thirteen kids’ time stopped and two of them are finally getting married. As everyone gathers before the ceremony, I keep an eye out for Marinette.

“The wedding marks my official move back to France!” she had announced a month prior. After interning with Gabriel in America for years, Marinette finally managed to break out into the fashion world and she’s going to be working alongside (rather than underneath) Gabriel now, in Paris.

Which means Marinette is officially back in France tonight and I am determined to tell her. A familiar head of pink hair catches my attention and I smile and wave as Alix approaches with Max and Kim following behind.

“What’s up, Nath, long time no see!” she says as she hugs me.

“And whose fault is that, Star Skater Kubdel?” She grins and scratches the back of her head, only a little bit modest. Last he heard, she was having companies grovel at her feet begging to sponsor her.

“Nathanaël!” Kim exclaims as he catches up. “Dude, I’ve got great news! I’m going to the Summer Olympics running for France!”

“Wow!” I respond, breathless. I can’t believe I actually know and went to school with a real life Olympian. Of course, knowing Kim I really should have expected that.

“There’s some more news too, Kim,” Alix says, rolling her eyes.

“Hi Nathanaël,” Max says as he walks up and hugs me.

“Oh yeah,” Kim says, “And Alix got sponsored by Gatorade!”

She smiles and rubs her arm. “Well yeah, but that’s not what I was talking about.”

“Oh! And Max signed a contract to work on the next Ultimate Mecha Strike game!”

“That’s true too, but I don’t think that’s what she’s talking about either.”

Kim pauses and looks back and forth between the two of them for a moment. They both look at him with an eyebrow raised and I’m pretty sure I know what the news is before even he does.

“OH!” he finally exclaims. He grins from ear to ear as he throws an arm around each of them. “And we’re dating!!”

I smile as I’m pulled into a group hug. “That’s so great, you guys! I was wondering how long it would take.”

Alix gives me a confused look as I pull away. “What, you mean you knew?”

“Yeah, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Max says, pushing up his glasses. “It was easy to calculate after Juleka and Rose were announced since the chances of Kim being with us by random chance increased from—,”

“Wait wait wait,” Kim interrupts. “You’ve known since the JuleRose wedding?”

“Actually, I was talking about when they became a couple back in school.”

“You’ve known that long and you didn’t tell us??” Alix asks, bewildered.

“I assumed that you knew,” he says to her. “And he was too hung up on Chloé.”

“It’s true, I was clueless. Couldn’t see that I had everything I needed right here.” He pulls them both toward him and the two smile bashfully. “So when are you going to make it official with Chloé, man?”

I blink at him. Isn’t there anyone who doesn’t think it’s her?

“I… Uh…”

“Nathanaël has to wait because his current chances of rejection are high since Chloé still believes her soulmate is Adrien,” Max chimes in. He’s obviously wrong in his reasoning, but I’m glad to have the excuse anyway. I won’t have to keep having this argument after tonight anyway. Because I’m finally going to tell Marinette and it’s going to be perfect.

I was already determined, but learning about Kim, Max, and Alix strengthens my resolve. The list is officially down to four and I’m more certain than ever that Marinette is my soulmate.

I’m going to tell her.

After the ceremony, the reception hall is alive with energy and loud music. Alya managed to convince Nino not to DJ his own damn wedding, but he still insisted that it be an awesome party, and he was not disappointed. I laugh to myself as I take a sip of champagne and watch the happy couple go wild on the dance floor. Alya is laughing at Nino’s dorky dancing and pretending she’s embarrassed by him. I smile even wider as Adrien jumps in and joins Nino in looking like an idiot even though I know he can dance better than that.

So I guess he’s with Chloé then. He doesn’t talk about his dating life whenever we get together these days, but Chloé comes up in conversation every once in a while and he’s always telling me about how great she is. Even though I don’t talk to her directly, I now know a lot about her life nowadays, like how she’s had a lot of success in business and how the hotel is stressing her out but she loves it nonetheless. Hell, I even know about the bad meeting she had with the linens supplier last week. After hearing it so much, I can only accept now that she really is a good person and I’m even starting to think about reaching out to her soon to maybe be friends or something. She’s the only person of the thirteen that I don’t talk to, and it just feels kind of wrong.

I hope she makes Adrien happy. I’m sure she will. They wouldn’t be soulmates otherwise. But I can’t help but be wary. And that beautiful man deserves nothing less than the best.

Across the room I spot Marinette having an animated conversation with Kim. Suddenly she’s smiling even brighter and she leaps forward to give him a hug. I can only assume that he told her about the relationship. Unless of course she got that happy over the Olympics announcement. It’s always possible—that is amazing news—but I’m pretty sure a reaction like that would have come from former. I drink the last of my champagne as Kim gets dragged away by his partners to go dance. Now’s my chance.

I’m going to tell her.

Marinette greets me warmly as I approach her, smiling and pulling me into a hug. “Nath, it’s so great to see you!”

“Hey, Marinette! You look great!” I mean it. Her bridesmaid dress is a lovely sheer pink that perfectly complements her figure.

“Thank you, I made it myself,” she says with a sly smile. I had had my suspicions.

“Did you make Alya’s dress too? She looks spectacular.”

“You really think so?” she says with a smile, turning to look at her best friend. She’s managed to pull Nino into a slow dance for the moment and the two are smiling like idiots at each other. “Gabriel and I designed it together.”

My eyes go wide and I stare at her in absolute bewilderment. “Alya is wearing a Gabriel/Marinette original? Didn’t that cost a fortune?”

She smiles at me. “It’s Adrien’s wedding gift to them. The only catch is that their wedding pictures have to be featured in a Gabriel ad, but they didn’t seem to mind.”

“Wow, Marinette, that’s…incredible. You’re incredible.” She blushes and smiles, rubbing her arm nervously as her dazzling blue eyes fixate on her shoes. I take a deep breath. I’m not scared. This is the moment. “Marinette.” She looks up at me with curious eyes, noting the change in my tone. “I think you’re my soulmate.”

The moment the words are out of my mouth I feel the weight of twenty years of silence lift from my shoulders. I am suddenly as light as a feather, I feel like I can dance on the wind…for about two seconds. Because that is how long it takes for her expression to betray everything. Two seconds is all it takes for me to know what she’s about to say.

“Nath…” She glances around nervously and I’m not sure I can feel my heart beating anymore. It must be since I’m still standing there staring at her, but if someone were to ask, I would tell them that my soul had completely vacated my body. I vaguely register Marinette taking my arm and leading me away from earshot of the other wedding guests. “We’ve been keeping it under wraps because of publicity, but—,”

“You’re with Adrien.” She squeezes her lips together in a genuine look of sorrow. She feels bad. Bad for me. Because she’s rejecting me? Or maybe because of what this means for me. Because if she isn’t my soulmate, and Adrien isn’t my soulmate, then…

Nope, I was wrong. Now my soul has left my body.

“Nath, I-I’m sorry, I would have told you sooner, it’s just that with the press always on him, and me trying to make a name for myself in the fashion world…”

I muster up a smile for her. It isn’t fake, really. Sure, I don’t exactly feel like smiling, but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for her. And him. A designer and a model. A match made in Heaven, really. And besides, everyone had known she’s had a crush on him for years, including me. I was just the only one who refused to believe it was meant to be even when it was clear to everyone else.

Well, almost everyone.

“It’s okay, Marinette. I completely understand. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” I pause, then add, “And congratulations.” And I mean it. I really do. Because like I said earlier, Adrien deserves nothing less than the best. And so does Marinette for that matter.

She smiles gratefully, but I can see the pity in her eyes. I had spent over a decade memorizing every little feature of that face so that I could draw it a million times, and now the sight of it is breaking my heart.

I hug her and tell her that she’d better make Adrien happy, and that makes her giggle. Then I walk away, and I wonder if I should leave. I’m not really in a celebratory mood. Should I say bye to Adrien first? Come to think of it, I didn’t say hi to him yet. I didn’t get a chance to.

Why didn’t he tell me about him and Marinette?

I slow to a stop as I see Adrien up ahead talking to Chloé. She has short hair now and it’s an even better look on her than the long hair was. She smiles at him, but I can see her heart breaking.

Suddenly I understand why I know about her linens meeting.

Adrien hasn’t been telling me all these details about Chloé because he loves her. He’s been telling me about her because he wants me to love her.

Adrien walks away and Chloé sits down and puts her head in her hands. I briefly wonder if she’s crying, but if I know anything about Chloé Bourgeois, it’s that she would never cry in public.

I’m not thinking about what I’m doing anymore. Instead, I just let whatever happens happen.

I approach her table and hold out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

Chloé picks up her head and looks at me in surprise. Then understanding dawns and she just looks at me with a bitter sort of sorrow.

“Nathanaël,” she begins, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her say my name in a non-insulting manner, “Be honest. Would you even spare me a second glance if you didn’t know?”

“Would you?” She looks down at the floor and I drop my hand. Maybe I should walk away. Maybe we’re not ready for this yet. Maybe we’ll never be ready for it.

Never ready to be soulmates.

“This is so fucked up,” I mutter, pushing my fingers through my hair. The comment was mostly to myself, but she shakes with a small huff of laughter.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“It’s not supposed to happen like this,” I say, taking the empty seat next to her. “We got stuck in some freak circumstance with our class and it completely screwed up the way this is supposed to work! You’re not supposed to meet your soulmate along with twelve other people when you’re five years old. It’s supposed to happen when you’re older and ready, and you bump into each other on the street as random strangers and your time stops and you look at them and you think—,” I look at her then, and she looks at me. She really is a gorgeous woman, with perfectly smooth blonde hair and bright blue eyes that shine like the sky on a clear summer day. She’s looking at me, awaiting my words, and I can’t stop admiring her lightly tanned skin and her flawless cheekbones. I remember my words and suddenly they feel more genuine, “—wow. This beautiful person is my soulmate, and I get to spend the rest of my life falling in love with them.”

Her gaze holds mind for a few more seconds before I look away, unable to handle such a level of intimate eye contact with her right now. “But we didn’t get that. We got a class full of possibilities and rejections and confusion. And now…here we are.” She looks away and I follow her gaze to see Adrien and Marinette on the dance floor, smiling and looking absolutely perfect together. “This is obviously far from ideal, but I do want to at least be friends with you. We have to start somewhere.”

We sit there for a few minutes and just watch everyone dance. The entire thirteen are there, except us. Ivan and Myléne are looking at each other as lovingly as they did back in school and I smile because I’m glad they haven’t lost even an ounce of their warmth. Rose and Juleka are laughing as Kim bursts into their dance and Alix and Max attempt to contain him. Alya and Nino watch the others, whispering in each other’s ears and laughing to themselves. And Marinette and Adrien…look like the definition of perfection.

Finally, Chloé stands up, and I wonder if she’s leaving. She runs her hands down her dress—an elegant, deep blue, form fitting gown that looks amazing on her—to smooth out any wrinkles, and then turns to me, offering me her hand. “Well? Are we going to dance or what?”

I smile and take her hand and as she leads me to the dance floor I feel a little less sad.

After all, this isn’t the end. This is the beginning.

Two years later, Chloé is my date to Adrien and Marinette’s wedding.

A year after that, she’s my wife.

#outsidethelovesquare #soulmate au #chlonath #adrinath #adrinette #julerose #ivene #djwifi #kimax #kimalix #heartrate #kimalmax #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction

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