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tangledstarlight · 3 years

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with you i’d dance in a storm in my best dress

this is a super month delayed prompt from @ourstarscollided (”holding hands while running through the rain” for our favourite soulmates, Julie and Luke!”) i will accept the super late fees, this is way over the 3-5 businesses days I promised ghfj anyway! mhwa enjoy 💜

julie and luke go on a first date, it really is as simple as that.

(also on ao3, here)

The day that Luke had asked her out, Julie spilt half her coffee on his shoes and the other half on her maths homework. In her head the conversation had gone a little like this:

“Hey Julie do you uh, wanna go see the new How to Train Your Dragon with me tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds cool. Reggie loves those films.”

“Oh I uh, mean just–– just me. You and me. Us. Just. The two of us.”

“Like –– a date?”

“Yeah?”

And then she’d knocked her cup over. Coffee spreading across the library table and onto Luke’s shoes and seeping into the carpet. Their school librarian had come storming over at Julie’s loud exclamation and ushered them both out of the building with a glare.

In reality there had been a lot of awkward pausing and wide eyed staring and Luke rubbing at the back of his neck as he waited for her to answer and then mumbled apologies and burning cheeks.

So, it was worse. For her at least.

But she prefers the version in her head with the lack of stuttering and blushing, so that’s what she tells Flynn an hour later as she lies on her bed, phone pressed to her ear as she stares at her fairy lights.

“So? What did you say?” Flynn’s voice filters through the phone and Julie can practically hear the giddy edge to it.

“I uh—” she pauses, chewing on her bottom lip as her mind flashes back to them standing in the parking lot of the school, Julie trying to shove coffee stained sheets of paper into her bag and Luke cringing at the squelching sound his shoes made with every step.

He had opened his mouth to say something — Julie doesn’t know what, because her heart and brain had finally caught up by then and where on the same page as she blurted out a, “Yes! To the uh, the movie. And the— the date. If—if that’s still—”

“No! I mean, yes, I mean yeah I—” he stuttered, sucking in a breath before smiling at her, shy and sweet. “Yes I still want to. Have to do worse than spill coffee on my shoes to scare me off, Molina.” And he’d bitten his bottom lip slightly as he’d laughed, and Julie had blushed a little more at the earnest tone in his voice.

“I said yes,” she whispers into the phone, because a part of her is still sitting in the library thinking she’s completely misheard him and doesn’t want to pop this little bubble quite yet.

“Jules!” Flynn squeals and Julie has to pull her phone away from her ear a little to avoid permanent damage, “You’re going on a date with Luke! This is big. This is huge. Okay, what time are you meeting him? We have to find you the perfect outfit and I need a time scale here.”

She lets the bubble pop, lets Flynn’s excitement stoke her own until she’s off her bed and rooting through her wardrobe and making plans for what time Flynn should come over tomorrow to help her get ready. By the time they say goodbye and hang up, Julie is smiling and barely containing her excitement.

Because see, she’s kind of had a huge massive crush on Luke since they were kids. It had come and gone over the years — seeing him shove two whole slices of pizza in his mouth at the age of eleven had done a lot to kill the crush for a while. But then it was freshman year and he’d run into music class late with the biggest smile on his face as he declared he’d finally perfected part of his guitar solo for their assignment. Don’t ask Julie why that had been the moment the crush came back in full force, because she doesn’t know.

They’d always sort of been friends, the way you’re sort of friends with everyone you’ve known since kindergarten, where you’ve been to all their birthday parties and know all the cheesy roles they’ve played in school plays. Julie doesn’t know when they went from being casual friends who said hi in the hallway to being friends and talking everyday.

(That’s not strictly true, Julie knows it happened sometime between her mom dying and music sounding like roaring in her ears and almost being kicked from the music program and the boys joining her on stage without hesitation to help her keep her place. If she really had to pinpoint it, it would be the day he found her crying at a piano in an unused music room and had closed the blinds, locked the door and just sat with her.)

She knows that there’s been— moments over the last few months. Moments where she catches him looking at her, moments where she swears he blushes when she looks at him, moments where their hugs have lasted just a few seconds too long. But Julie hadn’t ever really thought they meant anything. At least not to him. (To her they meant a lot.)

Because he was Luke, with his charming smile and sleeveless shirts and rockstar image, and she was just Julie and they were just friends and why would he ever look at her as anything else?

All she knows is that now they were juniors and in a band and best friends and he’d asked her out on a date.

Julie collapses onto her bed, head hitting her pillows and hair flying into her face as the thought hits her fully, “Holy shit,” she whispers, clutching a pillow to her chest and finally, finally lets a giddy smile take over her face.

She’s going on a date with Luke Patterson and it’s utterly terrifying. He’s one of her best friends, what happens if it goes terribly? Do they have to stop being friends? Do they enter an awkward few months where they don’t know how to act around each other? Oh god maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe she should text him and fake an illness. Maybe chicken pox, the chances of him remembering her having them when she was nine have got to be pretty low.

But, he’d asked her out with that silly little nervous habit of rubbing at the back of his neck and there’s been all the little moments over the last fews months and — it’s Luke. Julie blows out a breath and raises her pillow a little higher to tuck under her chin.

She’s going to go on a date with Luke and it’s terrifying, but it’s the kind of terrifying she feels whenever she gets up on a stage by herself to perform a new song. It’s the kind of terrifying that fills her with excitement too. She decides to focus on the excitement.

Julie manages to push aside all her worries and fears and nerves all day and most of the afternoon when Flynn shows up, lunch in one hand and make up bag in the other. She even manages to forget about it when she’s holding her hair up and letting it drop back down her back, eyebrows raised at Flynn as they try to decide what to do with it. She manages to forget all about her fears as they deliberate between a dress or jeans and argue over what’s considered more casual.

And then Flynn leaves with an air kiss and a thumbs up and Julie is left at the top of the stairs tucking her hair behind her ears and pulling it back as she tilts her head at herself in the mirror. Objectively Julie knows she’s okay looking, knows that her family has always told her she’s beautiful and that Flynn hadn’t even hesitated to say she looked gorgeous before leaving.

But well, they had to say stuff like that. They were her family. Luke was...Julie didn’t know what Luke was right now, but she knew he was important — now and forever — and maybe it made her shallow but she wanted him to think she looked pretty.

Her nerves don't set back in until there’s a knock at her door and Carlos is running for it before she can stop him.

“Luke,” is all she can hear from the top of the stairs, and though Carlos is blocking most of her view she can just make out the cuffs of jeans and a pair of vans. She wonders if they’re still squeaking when he walks.

“Hey Carlos can I—” the sound of Luke’s voice sends a flurry of butterflies into her stomach and she sucks in a breath to try and settle her nerves. Why is she even nervous? It’s Luke! They’ve hung out hundreds of times before, they’re friends, they’re going on a date. Oh god. Okay.

Julie brushes her hands down the skirt of her dress and blows out a breath as she looks at herself in the mirror one last time. They’re just going for food and to see a movie. Something they’ve done hundreds of times before. It’s casual. It’s why she’d opted to wear her favourite sneakers instead of the heels Flynn has dug out of her closet. It’s a date, but it’s a casual date. As long as she keeps telling herself that she’ll be fine.

“Get it together,” she whispers to herself, tucking a curl behind her ear and nodding once. She can do this.

It’s just Luke.

She stops halfway down the stairs at the sight of her dad and brother talking to Luke in the doorway. Luke, who’s wearing a dark blue button down and jeans without rips and–– oh god he’s bought her flowers. Either she makes a noise or he’d been glancing up at the stairs because he’s looking at her, eyes a little wide with a soft smile that makes heat rush to her cheeks. Ducking her head, Julie descends the last few steps until she’s stood in front of him, her dad and brother stepping back to watch them. Fuck.

“You look—”

“—are those—”

They both start at the same time and Julie giggles while Luke rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand.

“You look really nice and um—” he hesitates, eyes briefly glancing over her shoulder where she can only assume her family are watching this awkwardness unfold. “These are for you.”

He holds the flowers out towards her, a collection of pale purples and bright yellows, and if she had time right now she’d try to name each of them. But she can feel her dad and brother still watching them and there’s a red flush starting to show up on Luke’s cheekbones.

They really need to get out of her house before one of them turns totally red.

“Thank you they’re… they’re really pretty,” she turns around, handing the flowers to her dad and quickly turning back, picking her purse and phone up from the table by the door, “Can you put them in water for me please? Okay, bye!”

They make it through the door and almost to the porch steps before her dad is at the door calling out to them, “No later than 10:30!”

“I know dad!”

An awkward silence falls over them as they walk to his car and Julie tries desperately to come up with something to say, finally blurting out, “You’re wearing sleeves.”

Her hands wave at his shoulders and biceps covered in fabric. Julie’s not sure when the last time was that she’d seen his arms so covered. Maybe the winter showcase last year when Reggie had said they needed to dress up and forced him into a suit jacket. But that hadn’t been voluntary.

“My mom said I couldn’t go on a date with my shoulders showing. Apparently it would be rude?” He phrases it like a question, an eyebrow raised as he looks at her, as if she’d have an opinion on his bare shoulders being rude or not. She didn’t know date etiquette. Was it rude?

“I wouldn’t have been personally offended by them,” she shrugs, shooting him a small smile and feeling grateful when he laughs.

This is fine, they’re going to be fine. They just have to get over this awkward start and weirdly charged silences. Maybe it was a good job they were seeing a movie first, no chance for awkward conversation as they tried to find their footing. Julie blows out a breath and smiles up at him.

“So, how annoyed is Reggie that we’re seeing this without him?”

And it's like every other time they've hung out, only her fingers keep brushing against his and he keeps looking at her shyly from the corner of his eye while he drives. Its the same but it's different but Julie thinks it's maybe a good kind of different.

By the time they leave the movie theatre, hands brushing as they walk side by side, Julie’s feeling a little more settled in their date. Or a little more settled in herself at least.

Settled in the shy glances and shared popcorn and the way Luke had left his hand palm up on the arm rest between them and she’d felt brave enough during the second half of the film to lay hers on top.

She was feeling that much more confident about their date that, as they walked towards the entrance talking about the film, she was seconds away from closing the gap between their brushing hands and linking their fingers together. Which is of course when they both notice it’s raining.

In LA. Which, well Julie doesn’t know if she believes in signs or omens, but she’s pretty sure this classes as one. And she's not sure if it's a good or bad one.

“Fuck,” Luke mutters as he looks outside at the falling rain before looking down at her, a small furrow between his brows. The two of them both clearly remembering how he’d parked six blocks away because it was cheaper. And how neither of them have a coat or a jacket or even a bag worth holding over her hair.

“Guess we’re going to have to run,” she shrugs, shooting him a quick smile before making sure her phone is stashed safely in her purse.

“Or we could wait it out?”

“What? Scared of a little rain?” she teases, eyebrow quirked as she looks up at him.

“No,” he huffs out a laugh, one hand coming up to tug playfully at one of her curls letting it stretch out before springing back, his hand left hovering next to her shoulder, “But your hair?”

Her eyes soften a little as she shrugs one shoulder — and maybe it’s the one under his hand, and maybe she only does it so his palm and fingers will brush against the exposed skin of where her neck meets shoulder and maybe she stands a little awkwardly to prolong that concat. It’s all maybes. There’s no proof that’s why she does it — and smiles, “I was going to wash it tomorrow anyway. Come on Patterson, I bet if we run fast enough we can dodge the raindrops.”

“Not to sound like Alex but I don’t think that’s possible,” he bites his bottom lip slightly as he laughs and if she was feeling a little braver right now, Julie thinks she might have kissed him. But she’s not feeling brave enough for that. “You sure you don’t want to wait it out?”

“You ready to run?” She asks instead, turning towards the doors and holding her hand out to him. Maybe she’s not brave enough to kiss him, but holding his hand as they run through the rain? That feels doable.

She wiggles her fingers up at him a dare, a challenge, a question, all wrapped up together as she waits to see if he’ll take her hand. And she only has to wait a heartbeat before his palm is slapping down on hers, fingers slotting between each other and he’s tugging her towards the door.

“Oh I’m ready to run. I’m not sure you’re ready to keep up.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before he’s pulling open the door and Julie is squealing as the first drops of rain hit her head and splash against her bare shins.

“Thought you knew how to dodge raindrops,” Luke teases as he pulls her along and Julie squeezes his hand before tugging him towards a puddle in the pavement to kick water up at him.

The indigent squeak of protest that leaves his lips makes her laugh in response, that only grows at the pout on his lips as he pulls at their joint hands until she has to stumble away from the puddle and into his side. And Luke lifts his arm until she gets the idea of ducking under it until her back is against his front and his arms wrap around her waist, picking her up off the ground and laughing into her hair at the startled squeak she makes, fingers cold even through her dress as he carries her away from the puddle with a huff of breath in her ear. “Oh I’m going to get you back for that.”

She doesn’t doubt him, and is kind of giddy in her excitement about what he might do. There’s something about the rain falling around them and the way it makes the empty streets and parking lots look that makes her forget she was ever worried in the first place.

Because she’s Julie and he’s Luke and she forgets sometimes, that things that are supposed to be scary are easy with him. The first time she sang after her mom, the first time she drove without her dad, the first time she snuck out her bedroom window. She feels like she can do anything as long as he’s by her side. She feels pretty fearless.

The second her feet hit the ground again she turns around his arms, trailing her own cold fingers up his wrists and forearms to circle around his biceps, tucking her fingers under the hems of his shirts sleeves and chooses to decide the shiver that runs through him is due to the rain that’s starting to slow around them and not the way she’s starting tracing idle patterns into his warm skin.

“How are you going to get me back?” She whispers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks up at him. At the way the rain has plastered his hair across his forehead, at how his eyes dart from her lips to her eyes and back again.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he says softly and she feels his fingers flex against her back and Julie definitely can’t blame the shiver that runs through her on the rain or the cold air because while they’ve been staring at each other it’s stopped raining and now they’re just standing in a parking lot in each other arms.

If it wasn’t quickly becoming her favourite place she might feel a little more embarrassed.

“Jules,” he whispers and she’s momentarily distracted by the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips that she almost misses his next words, “I uh I had a plan. We were going to have a picnic in that park you like? But I— well. I didn’t plan for the rain.”

She blinks at him, pulling her thoughts away from his lips and how they’d feel against hers and back to the moment and— a laugh bubbles past her lips, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as she lets his words fully register. She can feel a chuckle rumble through him where she’s pressed against his chest and his fingers dig slightly into her sides.

“In my defence, it’s LA. No one ever plans for rain,” he mutters into her hair and that makes her laugh again.

Pulling back just enough to look at his face she shakes her head at him, ignoring the way droplets of water fall down her back from her hair as teases him, “Wow and here was me thinking you’d prepared for everything.”

“If you don’t hold it against me I promise to prepare for rain for our next date,” Luke says it casually, but his fingers have started tapping lightly on her back and his eyes are wide and hopeful, looking so much like he had the day before that Julie can’t stop the smile that pulls at her lips.

“If you don’t show up with umbrellas and raincoats I’ll never trust you again,” even as she says the words she knows they’re a lie. Julie’s pretty sure there’s no one she trusts more. Fingers tapping against his biceps she offers, “We can eat in your car?”

“Mhm sounds like a plan,” he agrees but makes no move to let her go and she doesn’t do anything to move away either. He looks like he’s working himself up to something and it's then that Julie realises that he’s just as nervous about this as she is and that if she has to wait for Luke to make the first move they might be standing here for a long time.

So she lets that feeling of fearlessness from earlier flood back in, lets her fingers slide out from under his sleeves and wrap around his neck, pulling herself up onto her tiptoes until they’re almost eye to eye. Their height differences has never been so obvious to her as it is right now and she can’t decide if she likes it or wishes she’d worn the heels.

“Luke?” she whispers.

“Yeah?” his breath blows across her lips and she’s so close she can almost hear the way he swallows.

“Are you going to kiss me now?”

Julie doesn’t realise she’s been holding her breath until it wooshes out of her when he pulls her even closer with one arm around her waist and the other traveling to cup the back of her head as his lips finally touch hers. It’s messy and rushed and wet with rain, but Luke’s lips are soft and careful until she pulls herself up just a little higher and can deepen it. Teeth catching and lips pulling into smiles and soft groans as she scratches lightly at his scalp.

She’s kissed boys before, pecks on the lips and a disastrous seven minutes in a closet with Nick last year and an awkward first date with one of the boys from her maths class who had transferred the next year. None of them had been perfect or great or even good and she’d wondered if it was her. If she was the bad kisser.

But standing in an almost empty parking lot with the street lights reflecting off the wet tarmac with Luke’s arms around her, holding her, his lips chasing after hers as she pulls away to breathe? It’s imperfect and perfect and everything she never knew she’d been missing.

“That was—”

“—god you’re beautiful, did I tell you that earlier?”

Luke’s words cut her off as he presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, to just under her ear, to her jaw.

“I—” but she doesn’t know how to finish her sentence, a furrow between her brows as she leans back a little in his arms so she can see his face, shaking her head with a small laugh, “I’m soaked through with rain and my hair is a total mess. I don’t think beautiful is the right word here.”

“Bullshit,” he states, the hand that had been holding the back of her head, fingers tangled in wet curls, comes around to cup her cheek, calloused thumb brushing across her cheekbone once, twice, as his eyes roam around her face before focusing sorely on her eyes. “You’re the most beautiful person in any room or parking lot or space on earth. In the whole universe. Rain soaked hair doesn’t change that.”

“Oh,” is all she can get out as a blush rushes into her cheeks and she knows that Luke notices because his thumb strokes against it again and his lips pull up into a half smile that she knows means he’s about to say something incredibly dumb that will ruin the incredibly sweet moment. So she leans forward and presses her lips against his before he gets the chance.

They drape the blanket Luke had bought for the picnic across the back seat of his car and try their best to get dry without losing any clothing or soaking the seats. He pulls out a basket from the trunk filled with her favourite soda and slightly squashing sandwiches and cookies she knows his mom must have helped him bake and unevenly sliced carrot sticks that scream of Reggie throwing them in at the last minute. Luke passes her the aux cord and she skips through a playlist until she finds something she likes and they let his terrible car radiator try to warm them up while they eat their picnic. Though really it’s his arm around her shoulders and his hand covering her knee and her fingers trailing up and down his arm that do most of the warming up.

At 10:25 he walks her up to her front door, biting at his bottom lip as he bounces on the balls of his feet and glancing from the door to her and back again.

“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. For band practice,” Luke says, his eyes still going from the door to her and back again and it’s starting to make her a little dizzy.

“Mhm,” she mumbles, taking a half step towards him, hoping it’ll keep his eyes in one place. Which they do. On her lips. And she doesn’t even try to stop the smile that pulls at them when she realises it. Pushing up on to her tiptoes again she kisses him once, quickly, sweetly and starts to step away. She only makes it as far as lifting one foot up before Luke is wrapping a hand around her waist to pull her back to him, lips moving together in a way that’s different from the kisses they’ve already shared. When he pulls away to breathe she presses a kiss to his cheek and finally manages to step away while he’s looking a little stunned. “Text me when you get home okay? I’ll see you tomorrow Luke.”

She opens her front door and slips inside before she can change her mind and stand on her front pouch kissing him all night. Because she could do that. Spend a whole night just kissing him. Julie presses her fingers to her lips as a giddy smile takes over her face, twitching aside the curtain that covers the window next to the door in time to see Luke getting into his car and driving away.

For their next date three days later they go to the arcade by the pier, and she doesn’t even care about the odd looks everyone around them shoots their way at the peeling laughter that erupts out of her when he pulls a bright yellow umbrella out of the trunk of his car with a wink.

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #julie molina x luke patterson #jukebox #jatp #jatp fics #still have no clue what to tag fics as on here sos ghfjd #god this really did take me a whole month huh. but i like it. i think. idk about the ending #it could be worse. okay anyway. goodbye enjoy.#*fics #this tehcnicaly counts as a promot so!!!#*prompts

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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for the meet uglies, sternclay 60 sfw? OwO

Here you go!

60 Sterncly SFW. we’re both on a reality show (like the queer bachelor) where we’re told to be friends but the first time we met, you were incredibly rude and judgmental and I don’t know if I can do this for the damn cameras

“So, Barclay, now that we’re a few days in, what’s your impression of the other contestants?”

“They, uh, they all seem like great guys. We come from a lot of different backgrounds, so that’s kind of interesting to be around but, uh, I live in a place that’s like a big, chosen family, so being in a house with a bunch of types of personalities is kinda, uh, homey.”

“There’s no one you think you’ll struggle with?”

“Uh. Well. I, uh, I don’t like Joseph too much. He came in and he’s so, like, phony from all the years in the FBI. It’s like he’s trying to be polite and charming but really he thinks we’re all idiots for being here. Which, like, buddy, last I checked you signed up for this the same as the rest of us.”

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

“Joseph, any worries about the other contestants?”

“No. I mean, we’re competitors on a dating show, not enemies. I think we’re all trying to show Vincent the best versions of ourselves.”

“There’s no one you’ve had conflicts with?”

“........I, um, Barclay and I got into a small argument earlier about the house rules. But I’m sure if we both stick around long enough we’ll come to an understanding.”

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

“Gentlemen, this cannot continue.” Ned, the producer, sits on the couch across from them. Barclay glares at Joseph, but the other man keeps a cool demeanor. Great, he’s making Barclay look like the big, angry mountain even off camera.

“I thought reality shows needed conflict to thrive.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow.

“They do, but about big things, like love and rivalry. Not how to properly load a dishwasher.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.”

“My way is perfectly fine.” Barclay snaps, “jesus, I worked in kitchens for years, I know how to get clean plates.”

“That doesn’t make it optimal.”

“Do you have to be right about everything?”

“Gentlemen, you recall we have a housekeeping staff, right?”

“It doesn’t matter” Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off Ned, “we’re supposed to all get along, not all try and prove we’re the smartest guy in the room.”

“See, this is your problem, you need everyone to like you, to see you like a big brother, but you’re missing the fact that at least three of them have decided your gentle giant persona is a threat and they’re trying to oust you.”

“It’s not a persona, it’s just how I am. We aren’t all government shams disguised as men.”

Joseph’s facade cracks for a moment, blue eyes trying to light Barclay on fire.

“Enough.” Ned shakes his head, “you may despise each other as much as you please behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, please try to act as if you’re not ten seconds away from coming to blows. Agreed?”

They trade a final, furious look.

“Agreed.”

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They’re a little over three weeks in; Vincent is still doing lots and lots of short, individual dates between the group outings, so the contestants have ample time to hang around the house and get on each others nerves.

Case in point: Joseph was right when he warned Barclay that others saw him as a threat. Chad, Alex, Nico, and Rich have all decided to go after him. Just this morning he’s been told he’s not man enough for Vincent (he shooed a wolf spider out of the kitchen with a broom instead of squishing it), too girly (he offered to make cupcakes if people wanted), and too big (who'd want to fuck a six foot tall puppy).

His mood is not helped by Joseph chatting away on the couch about his former job with the FBI. Barclay swears it’s all the asshole knows how to talk about. Maybe it’s time for Barclay to play a game of his own.

“Hey, Joseph.”

The other man turns, black hair perfectly slicked back like he thinks he’s some kind of movie star.

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t make it until eight tonight without talking about your job.”

The other contestants in the room snicker, several even giving Barclay a thumbs up.

Joseph adjusts his shirt sleeves, “You’re on.”

Ten hours later, Barclay is forced to get his wallet. The other man never mentioned the FBI once. In fact, he did Barclay an even bigger favor; he didn’t talk at all.

He finds the agent sitting on the back steps leading into the garden. Stays standing as he holds out the cash, “you win fair and square.”

Joseph looks at the money, then looks away, “I did it to show I could, not for the bet.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to go, uh, quite so hard on the silence thing.”

“I didn’t mean to. But, um, every time I was going to open my mouth, I realized it was somehow related to work. So I kept quiet.” He sighs, stretches out his legs. He’s in slacks, because of course he is, “I must have been so tedious to listen to, no wonder I was driving you up the wall.”

“Joseph-”

“I really am married to my career. I guess it’s not surprising my last chance for love is on a T.V show.”

“Hey, I get it.” Barclay sits down next to him, “when I was first working in commercial kitchens my hours were crazy; I barely saw my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend who pretty quickly became my ex. But it was what I needed to do to build the career I wanted for myself. To do what I loved.”

Only the crickets and the distant waves reply. Then, “You said you were a private chef now, right? Along with writing cookbooks?”

“Yeah. Kinda surprised you remembered.”

“Listening is a major skill in my profession. Besides, it’s polite to pay attention to what people tell you.”

“What’s your job now? You only ever talk about the FBI stuff?”

“Paranormal investigation. I never bring it up because people assume I’m out chasing Bigfoot with a shaky-cam or trying to communicate with haunted dolls.”

“So...what is it instead?”

“Helping people figure out they’re homes aren’t haunted or the monster on their property is just some owls. I like the challenge of solving the mystery, and I like helping people feel safe in they’re homes.”

Loud voices form inside; the caterers must have refilled the bar. He doesn’t really want to go in. It’s too nice out here.

“You wanna hear about the restaurant my coworkers swore was haunted?”

Joseph perks up, turning to face him, “Yes, please.”

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

He’d been really looking forward to beach day. Six guys are already gone, and Vincent has taken his fleet of suitors to the sunny San Diego shores. Barclay is dismayed to find all but three of the other guys have waxed their chests. Joseph hasn’t, but his happy trail is nothing compared to fucking black forest on Barclays torso. Nico’s gotten half the guys to call Barclay “bigfoot.”It makes him feel like he’s back in high school P.E freshman year, and his body image is rapidly sliding into that of a shy fourteen year old.

“Barclay!” Joseph comes jogging out of the surf towards the towels they lay down side by side when they arrived, “you should come in, it’s really the perfect weather for swimming.” He drops onto his towel, black hair a bit mussed. The swim-shorts that he thought were blue with green spots turn out to have not dots, but tiny UFOs on them.

“I, uh, I’m good. I, uh, I burn easily and I don’t think anyone wants to rub sunscreen on my hairy back.”

“Hey, Bigfoot, what’s wrong? Scared of what’ll happen if the cameras get a load of your gut?”

Barclay growls, stares at his toes. Joseph tracks Nico as he finishes jogging by. Then he calmly picks up a frisbee, aims a throw, and knocks his snapback off his head. He’s sitting down before the other man can work out who threw it. Barclay chuckles, but doesn’t get up.

“Bigfoot’s my favorite cryptid.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“And who gives a shit if you have a stomach.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re cut.”

Joseph grabs his sunglasses, “because I like that for my body. I happen to like yours just as much. Um I, I mean, it seems like Vincent likes it.” He tips his head towards the Bachelor, who gives them both a long once-over.

“...Will you do my back?”

“Of course, big guy.” The nickname sounds so right on his tongue it makes Barclay want to set his head in his lap and ask him to pet it.

It’s late afternoon when Ned herds them all onto a boat which promptly steers towards some cliffs. Joseph stays close to Barclay, pleasant expression noticeably tightening the closer they get to the rocks.

“I’ve been dreading this. Cliff diving is not something I’d pick to do on my own.”

“Heights?”

He shakes his head, “Deep water. I know it’s not rational, and I even checked to be sure there hadn’t been large shark sightings in the area, but I can never shake the feeling there’s something waiting just out of sight, ready to surge up and eat me.”

They all climb up together, Vincent staying on the boat to watch them jump (this is technically a friendly competition to show off how brave they are). As they’re turns get closer, Barclay sees Joseph doing deep breathing exercises.

They hit the edge. The agent freezes.

“Shit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“C’mon, where’s my daring special agent?”

Joseph still doesn’t move.

“You, uh, you wanna jump together? Maybe the megaladon or whatever will eat me instead.”

“Megalodons are extinct; we’d know if they weren’t, same as we know Whale Sharks aren’t.”

“They you are.” Barclay murmurs, smiling.

Joseph manages a smile back, “On three?”

“Yep. One, two” he grabs Joseph’s hand “three”

The water rises to swallow them with terrifying speed, but nothing is waiting for them except one very startled fish. They surface together, Joseph laughing triumphantly, hair plaster to his head and sun shining in his ocean eyes.

If Vincent doesn’t pick him, he’s out of his mind.

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

“Ohmylord, we have to play this.” Joseph cannot believe his luck; he figured the barcade group date would mean a lot of solo time, but here’s his favorite game in the whole wide world.

“Monster Hunt?” Barclay laughs as he lets himself be lovingly shoved down into the seat of a cut-out Jeep, “very on brand.”

“They had this at the bowling alley near my house. I’d play when my parents had league night but couldn't get a sitter. I never could beat the Mothman level without a player two.”

He doesn’t have that problem tonight, even with Barclay distractingly delighted and handsome in the seat beside him. After that, they make it their mission to find every two-player game in the thrum of flashing colors and tinny music. He finds they both like the Bowser Bourbon Smash, and somewhere around their fourth, heated game of air hockey they each polish of one too many of them to stay upright without the support of a game, a helpful show staff member, or each other.

When they get back to the house (their fellow contestants all in a similar state to themselves) they manage to make it to Joseph’s room before collapsing into a giggling heap on the bed.

“That, hic, that was fun. Games are, hic, fun.” Barclay blinks at him, “what’re you laughing, hic, at.”

“You, you got the hiccups. S’funny because you’re so big, like, like watching a, a pitbull with a, um, a” he makes a squeezing motion that his sober self would recognize as “squeaky toy.”

“M’not big” Barclay pouts, “I, hic, maybe everyone else is, hic, just small. Ever think of th--hic--at.”

“S’not a bad thing.” Joseph shifts so they’re facing each other, “like how big you are. Makes you sexy.”

Barclay blushes, “you’re, hic, one to, to talk. You’re hot, so, hic, so fucking out. Got, got those eyes. That, hic, that face” He touches Joseph’s cheek, “love your face.”

“Love yours too.” Joseph says, stroking his beard. Then they’re moving in inelegant tandem, grabbing at each others shoulders and faces as their mouths find each other. Barclay is so warm, whimpering when Joseph rolls him on top, nipping his lips and pawing at him like a puppy hoping for a treat. Joseph is going to hold him close and let him have it.

A clatter from below, one of the other men knocking something over in the kitchen, breaks the spell.

“Wait, wait” Joseph reluctantly slides his hands of Barclays ass, “we, drunk, we’re drunk, too drunk.”

Barclay blinks down at him, pouting a little even as he groans “fuck, you’re, you’re right. Wanna, gotta remember this. Don’t wanna” he yawns, “regret it.” The instant he flops onto his back Joseph climbs into his arms and falls asleep to the slow rhythm of his breathing.

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

After that night, they agree to be more careful; they’re here for Vincent, to see if one of them is his true love. That’s what the contract they signed says.

“More careful” turns out to mean watching their alcohol intake around each other and only touching platonically (including falling asleep on the couch together. They wake up to cameras recording their nap. Barclay isn’t sure what Joseph threatens Ned with, but the footage never sees the light of day).

But unless they’re on a solo date with Vincent, they’re by each others side. Barclay teaches Joseph dominoes and how to make biscuits. Joseph introduces him to terrible old horror movies that they watch on his laptop and compliments his cooking every chance he gets.

They must be doing something right, because they move to the next round week after week, Vincent clearly enamored with both of them. Barclay certainly understands the feeling. Just not for the person who he’s supposed to.

“Joseph? If, uh, if neither of us win, what are you gonna do after this.”

“Go back to work. Maybe pitch my book about U.S cryptids.” Joseph’s smile goes shy for a moment before recovering, “but I wouldn’t worry, big guy; I think you’re the front runner for sure.”

Barclay knows for a fact that Joseph is a fan favorite and the suitor most people think will win. Which is why, when Vincent selects his final four, he’s not surprised Joseph gets the first rose. Then everyone but Barclay is holding one and Vincent is touching his shoulder.

“Barclay, please don’t take this as a sign I’m not deeply fond of you. This wasn’t an easy choice but I, well, I feel like your heart may not be in this anymore.”

He takes Vincent’s hand and squeezes it, “It’s okay. It was wonderful just to get to know you. All of you.” He looks at the final four, at Joseph’s calm, polite expression. He meets blue eyes as he says, “I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that he turns, all too aware of the cameras tracking his exit, his face, how he’ll have to do a final interview and not reveal that he’ll hate Vincent forever but not blame him in the slightest if he marries Joseph.

“Wait!”

Every eye, lensed or no, turns back to the gazebo. Joseph is at the edge of the steps, poised to run. When he sees Barclay stop, he turns to Vincent.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” He hands the bachelor the rose, “I hope you understand.”

There’s no soundtrack on set, but strings swell in his ears all the same as Joseph descends the stairs and leaps into his arms, kissing him so hard he still has stars in his eyes when he opens them.

“It’s not a marriage proposal” Joseph whispers, kissing his cheek, “but I do have a question for you.” He pulls back, all cameras on them but his attention for Barclay alone, “would you like to be my boyfriend, big guy?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “Yeah, babe, I really, really would.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #bachelor au #taz amnesty

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msfilmdiary · 3 years

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The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)

Starring: Emma Watson, Logan Lerman, Ezra Miller, Mae Whitman, Nina Dobrev, Paul Rudd, Johnny Simmons, Kate Walsh, Dylan McDermott, Nicholas Braun, and Melanie Lynskey

Screenplay by Stephen Chbosky

Directed by Stephen Chbosky

Cinematography by Andrew Dunn

I do not own any of the photos posted.

SPOILERS AHEAD

First of all, I want to say that I love this book. I read it once about every couple of months, and I find something new in it every time I read it.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a coming-of-age film written and directed by Stephen Chbosky. The film is told, like the book, in a series of letters written by Charlie to an unknown recipient. These letters include his triumphs and tribulations of his freshman year of high school. The films depict his mental struggles and his journey with his friends, Sam and Patrick.

After meeting the well-rounded seniors Sam and Patrick at a football game, they invite him to a party. At said party, Charlie accidentally consumes a weed brownie and tells Sam that his best friend committed suicide. He also walks in on Patrick and the school’s quarterback Brad, kissing, to which Patrick tells Charlie that Brad is closed. Both Sam and Patrick then drive Charlie home and experience the infamous tunnel scene, which is possibly one of the most memorable scenes in the film.

As the film progresses, Charlie slowly develops feelings for Sam and tells her on multiple occasions. Sam, however, has a boyfriend in college named Craig. Charlie later confesses to Sam that he’d never been kissed, and Sam tells him that his first kiss should be with someone who loves him, and ultimately ends up kissing him.

Charlie later begins a relationship with Sam’s friend Mary Elizabeth after the Rocky Horror Picture Show, while still having obvious feelings for Sam. At a party, Charlie is dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room by Patrick, to which he ends up kissing Sam instead of Mary Elizabeth, upsetting them both. Patrick advises Charlie to distance himself from everyone for a little while, and he ends up in isolation and deep depression.

When Charlie returns to school, he notices that Brad shows up with bruises on his face after being caught having sex with Patrick by his father. He claims he was jumped, and begins to distance himself from Patrick, calling him a f*ggot. Patrick punches him, and Brad’s friends begin beating on him until Charlie intervenes and blacks out. After recovering, he finds that Brad’s friends are incapacitated, while his hands are bruised from fighting. Sam and Patrick express gratitude towards Charlie, seemingly forgiving him for past events. However, after blacking out, Charlie’s mental state begins to worsen and worsen.

TW: sexual assault

Patrick then kisses Charlie and immediately apologizes. Sam is accepted into Pennsylvania State University, and breaks up with her Craig after learning of his faithfulness. The night before she leaves for college, her and Charlie confide in each other, and he experiences flashbacks of his Aunt Helen, his aunt who died in a car crash when he was seven. After Sam leaves for college the next morning, Charlie’s mental state deteriorates, and his flashbacks become more and more apparent. He blames himself for his aunt’s death, and is later committed to a mental hospital where it is revealed that she sexually abused him.

The film ends with Sam, Patrick and Charlie revisiting the tunnel where Sam has revealed she has found the perfect tunnel song–“Heroes” by David Bowie. Sam kisses Charlie, and he stands up on the back of the truck, acknowledging that he feels alive with the statement “We are infinite.”

As someone who's both read The Perks of Being a Wallflower and seen the film, it’s difficult to separate the materials into their own entities, despite being the same story. The casting is near perfection, as I couldn’t imagine anyone besides Emma Watson playing Sam and Ezra Miller playing Patrick. They both deliver a stellar performance, as did Paul Rudd with Mr. Anderson, and Mae Whitman as Mary Elizabeth.

The film allows Emma Watson to shed her ten year Harry Potter skin, in a role that I don’t think could’ve been more perfect for her. It allows Ezra Miller some dimension when compared to his character in We Need To Talk About Kevin.

I want to talk about Sam and the “manic pixie dream girl” stereotype that is often placed on her, mostly because I don’t think she fits any of the characteristics. I recently wrote an essay about strong female characters being overtaken by this craize of the “manic pixie dream girl,” to which I discussed her character, and how I think that she is not solely there for Charlie’s gain and fixation (as many characters with manic pixie dream girl syndrome are.) I think her character separation from Charlie is more prevalent in the book, as I believe that her character on paper is more determined to be seen as separate from the people around her. She isn’t there solely to fix Charlie, or anyone around her for that matter. She has dreams and ambitions, and her own goals away from Charlie. She grows as a character, but not at Charlie’s, or any other male character's expense. She is her own person, or character, rather it be.

Let’s talk about the soundtrack, which I think truly brought The Perks of Being a Wallflower to life from paper to screen. From my perspective, many of those who watch the film now associate certain songs with certain scenes, like “Come on Eileen” with Sam and Patrick dancing, or “Heroes” with the tunnel scene. For one, I think that replacing Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” for David Bowie’s “Heroes'' made the tunnel scene absolutely magical, more than the book could ever do. I think the tunnel scene made the movie stand out, while the tunnel scene in the book was what I remember being as words on paper. I couldn’t see the scene in my head, whereas the film depicted a version that I believe to be more memorable than the film as a whole itself. Other notable mentions I would like to include would be the song “Could it Be Another Change?” and “Teen Age Riot,” which I think were perfect selections for the feel of the film.

I would categorize this film as a teenage classic (I know, big words) mostly because I think so many teenagers relate to it. It’s funny and charming, but also at times it allows the viewer to think and reflect about what’s happening around them. The film allows a break from reality, but not a complete severe that doesn’t allow one to stay grounded. I also, for another pointer, think the soundtrack is phenomenal.

That being said, do I think that the film is better than the book? No. A hundred times no. Do I detest the film? No. I don’t. I think it’s a extraordinary adaptation, and I think that it’s so extraordinary because it’s written and directed by Chbosky himself. He created real characters, both on paper and on screen, that allowed many of the viewers to see themselves in the film. He allowed the viewers to (forgive me) feel infinite. Which, in turn, is all anyone truly wants, to feel completely and utterly infinite.

Overall rating: 8/10

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cloud9in · 3 years

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The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1-

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

- Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this.

...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine.

My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows.

***

...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed.

Sincerely, your STD free son

It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced.

Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life.

Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

Song lyrics…

That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest.

Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet?

***

The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her.

Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

“6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.”

Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

“Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

“Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

“Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

***

Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

“Hey!”

He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

“Hey wait up!”

The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

“I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

“No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

“Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

“I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

“No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

“Well you see it’s a letter..”

“Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

“I thought it seemed romantic..”

“And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

“I- I can’t help you.”

“But if you just add a few more words-”

“I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social.

Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!”

Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be?

But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

***

“One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

“Deal!”

Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

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

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mc x poppy #playchoices #I couldn't come up with a unique title #throw some ideas if you have #do share your opinion on this #it is valued #oblivious bea is a pain in the ass #but certainly fun to write

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 4 years

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Monster of the Week: The Undead!

From spooky scary skeletons to the original zombies, let’s have a look at the undead who have risen around the globe! This will not include vampires (which I have already compiled a post on) or ghosts (which I plan to compile a post on.)

Note that many of these can best be understood -- or only understood -- in their original cultural context, and I encourage you to continue your research if the lore interests you.

Skeletons/Skeletal Creatures

I am, for whatever reason, enthusiastic about skeletons. There’s a drama to them. They look like they’re perpetually grinning, or grimacing, which makes them oddly relatable. As an artist, I’m always thinking about them as the framework for poses.

More importantly, there’s one in all of us -- sorry if that made you uncomfortable -- which makes them a universally recurring being in global folklore. Let’s take a look at just a few.

Gashadokuro

Literally translating to “rattling skull,” the Gashadokuro is also called Odokoru (giant skull) or simply “the hungry skeleton.” That basically tells you all you need to know.

These big boys (and I mean REALLY big) wander around the countryside at night. Their name derives from the eerie rattling noise produced by their giant skulls. As chill as this may sound, the Gashadokuro is not actually chill at all, and if you come across them they will not hesitate bite your head off. This may seem like a jerk move, since they don’t even have a stomach, but they need the energy of the living in order to sustain themselves.

Like most undead fellas on this list, the Gashadokuro has its origins in the real world. They are thought to originate from the mass-graves, usually of those who died under violent or inhumane circumstances, the supernatural byproduct of countless skeletons.

The first Gashadokuro was thought to have originated after a specific bloody rebellion, in which the bereaved, sorceress daughter of a samurai summoned a giant skeleton from the mass grave of the rebelling soldiers and used it to attack the city. Queen behavior, if you ask me.

Santa Muerte

Image Source

Let’s conclude this portion with my favorite skeleton (excluding Baron Samedi, who doesn’t count, as he is often depicted as a man, or a man with a skull-like face), the goddess/folk saint Santa Muerte.

I still have a lot to learn about the rich folklore surrounding Santa Muerte, but to my understanding, she was born of a combination of pre-Columbian Indigenous religions and Mexican-American folk Catholicism.

Depicted as a skeleton in beautiful, feminine attire and considered to be embodiment of death, Santa Muerte is a healing and protective figure. She is beloved by legions of worshippers, despite condemnations from the Catholic church, and symbolizes a culturally positive relationship with death.

Despite appearances, she is a life-affirming figure.

Zombies and Reanimated Corpses:

The Draugr

When we hear “zombie,” we don’t traditionally think of “Norse mythology.” And yet, the Nordics had their very own zombie mythos, boasting some truly terrifying undead.

It is said that they first emerge from their graves as little more than wisps of smoke and a stench of decay, before adopting a humanoid form that boasts superhuman strength, the ability to change size at will, and the ability to shape-shift.

They aren’t mindless -- far from it. They boast an anthropomorphic intelligence, which makes them all the more dangerous.

As to what drives them from their graves? Jealousy and bitterness towards the living. Relatable, honestly.

The Jiangshi

(Note: I wish they were all as adorable as the one in this gif.)

This Chinese hopping corpse may have evolved into more of a vampire by Western influences, but it was originally far more zombie-like. And a unique zombie at that.

Due to rigor mortis, the Jiangshi hops stiffly from place to place, holding its arms straight out. What’s even more singular is their origin. Try to guess. Go ahead, try. You won’t be able to.

The Jiangshi is what occurs when a bereaved family, lacking the proper funds to send their loved one’s body back to their ancestral land for burial, hires a necromancing corpse driver to reanimate the cadaver and guide it as it hops back to its resting place. They’d travel at night to avoid or minimize decay, either prodded by a stick or to the beat of a drum.

Other ways to create a Jiangshi include improper burial, suicide, or possession.

Looking upon a Jiangshi is said to be bad luck, and presumably very unpleasant. However, the real problem is their insatiable appetite.

But fear not: if you see an unhealthy looking fellow hopping towards you with pasty, possibly decaying skin, you can protect yourself with mirrors, the hooves of a black donkey, or the wood of a peach tree. They can also be scared off by the sound of a crowing rooster, though that would require a bit of planning, and the cooperation of the rooster in question. Which, knowing roosters, is unlikely.

Haitian Zombies

All legends of the undead have roots in real tragedies, but this one is particularly upsetting -- and the source of the zombie legend in the Western world today.

The enslaved people of Haiti believed that death would set them free, sending them back to an idyllic version of their homeland unburdened by colonialism. But only if death came naturally. Suicide would turn them into mindless husks, carrying out the drudgery of their captors. A haunting parallel to the practice of slavery itself.

The concept was introduced to a contemporary audience by the 1932 film White Zombie, which sees a white “voodoo master” (who clearly didn’t know anything about the actual Voodoo religion) using witchcraft to create obedient slaves. He eventually uses this (ahem) “”voodoo”” on a white woman to try and force her to fall in love with him.

With the term “zombie” in public consciousness, it became an applicable allegory for all of society’s ills, and can now be used to refer to anything from mob mentality to consumerism. But few are as haunting and as disturbing as its origins.

Videos on zombies:

The Origin of the Zombie, from Haiti to the US

Where Zombies Come From

100 Hundred Years of Zombie Evolution in Pop Culture

Best Contemporary Zombie Movies*

*That I know of. Will update with more.

Night of the Living Dead - Though White Zombie introduced the term, it was arguably this film that popularized zombies as we know them today, particularly as an allegory for herd mentality and consumerism. Its successors, including Day of the Dead and Dawn of the Dead, prove similarly influential.

The Evil Dead Trilogy - Established that zombies can be fun, while also serving as an allegory for various societal problems. Also features undead that are refreshingly ravenous and evil without necessarily being mindless.

The Re-Animator - These days, the average zombie movie pushes the bounds of creativity is “make ‘em faster!” The Re-Animator’s take on the genre, however, would make Mary Shelley proud. Based loosely on the Lovecraft story, “Herbert West - Reanimator,” the films greatest triumph is its ability to have fun with its grisly premise, and compel the audience to have fun, too. It’s also a cautionary tale about why it’s important to be careful while getting a roommate.

Shaun of the Dead - I’m not kidding. This film is great, and shows that you don’t need a serious tone to be heartfelt, scary, or provide a thought-provoking social commentary. Way back when I was a sixteen-year-old college freshman, I turned up to class as a zombie cheerleader, and my psychology professor recommended Shaun of the Dead to me. She’s a woman of impeccable taste, and it did not disappoint.

28 Days Later - Before Cillian Murphy gave us Tommy Shelby, a gangster so pretty he could give Al Capone a sexual identity crisis, he was proving his mettle in the zombie-addled UK. For 2020 reasons, watching him wander the abandoned streets of London with a questionable haircut feels very topical. Add a stellar performance from Naomie Harris, and there’s a reason it sent me into a bisexual panic it’s considered a modern classic of the genre.

Little Monsters - An egregiously underrated flick, featuring a kindergarten teacher (who happens to be, you know, Lupita Nyong’o) protecting her class during a zombie outbreak. A must watch if you want a zombie movie with a powerhouse lead, a happy ending, and perhaps the most badass kindergarten teacher in cinematic history.

#monster of the week #writers reference #writers resources #skeletons #zombies #blood for ts #racism mention for ts

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

if we meet again

[part one of the again series]

pairing | bryce x mc

word count | 10k

warnings | mentions of sex, innuendos, drinking.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @dakotawinchester, @writinghereandthere, @pixelsandkink, @masquerade-reimagined, @choicesarehard, @nerdferatum, @bobbymckenzie, @agentdumortain, @bryceslahela, @lahellacute, @violinet, @zigsnose, @adamdusmortain, @drsobemoji, @choeries, @houserosario, @plasticdodecagon, @noimarocketman (tagged sideblogs instead of main blogs!)

author’s note | so i recently finished the before trilogy of films, and i really wanted to write something based off of it but in a way that would better encapsulate bryce and my mc spencer! part one consists of years 1 - 4, taking place through their undergrad years at university. this is gonna be a bit of a journey so buckle up!

read on ao3! [disclaimer: ao3 version has smut included, not separate.]

•─────────────────•

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

Boarding a plane wearing a tank top and layering as she stepped off was a weird experience to say the least. It was like stepping into another world.

The cookie cutter suburbs were nauseatingly bland. Was this really what her parents wanted?

Sure, they were the typical awestruck immigrant family who were obsessed with the American experience, but to be wholly consumed by it? God she never wanted a roundtrip date to come so fast in her life.

They’d closed on the house faster than she could complain about it, but she couldn’t have done much anyways. They’d packed the house up right before she left for her freshman year of college, so the decision didn’t affect her too much.

The slush came down harder, sounding nearly like hail on the roof of her taxi.

She glanced down at her dirty tennis shoes and grimaced – she dreaded having to lug her suitcase from the taxi to her front door.

When it screeched to a stop, she handed the driver a couple bills (leaving a hefty tip, because hey, it was the holidays) and retrieved her things from the trunk.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase gripped in her right hand, she braced the freezing wet rain.

The walk from the mailbox to the front door was way longer than she remembered. About halfway up the short stairs, she made a crucial mistake. The ball of her foot caught a patch of ice and she tumbled to the ground.

“Ah, fuck,” she grumbled, twisting her body so she was sitting on the stairs. The rain seeped through her jeans, freezing her ass and thighs.

“Hey, miss, you okay?” A voice called from across the lawn.

Her loose hoodie obstructed her vision, so she couldn’t see the man, but she heard his shoes squelch across the grass as he jogged towards her.

“Here, lemme take that,” he said, grabbing her backpack and suitcase before helping her up with his free hand.

She tossed her hood back to catch a glimpse of the kind stranger, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the handsome boy in front of her.

A single dimple appeared on one of his flushed cheeks as he flashed a grin at her, his hair damp from the falling rain. “You good?” He asked again, brown eyes searching hers.

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for coming to help me up,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll help you to the front door. This is your house, right? I’m not aiding and abetting a burglar?” He teased, turning to walk towards her door.

“No, no. My parents live here,” she said, pointing at the house.

“And you don’t?”

“Technically yeah, in between semesters,” she said, shrugging. “Just took my last final this morning.”

“Oh, cool, me too. I made it in a couple hours ago,” he said, gesturing to the house to the left of theirs.

“So, our parents are neighbors?”

He grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No, it’s nice to know someone my age around here. They moved into this house right as I was moving into my dorm, so I didn’t get a chance to get to know anyone.”

“I guarantee my parents were the one to sell you this house,” he said, handing her the backpack and rolling her the suitcase.

“Your parents are realtors? That’s cool,” she said, nodding. “They must be great at their jobs if they convinced them to buy the house so fast.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges, his irresistible dimple popping up again. “I don’t know shit about the housing market, stranger.”

She couldn’t hold her giggle back. His laugh was infectious. “I’m the stranger? You ran up to me first.”

“Yeah, but I landed first, so I deem you the stranger,” he said, gently poking her arm. “So, stranger, do you have a name?”

“Spencer Matsuzaki,” she said, holding a hand out, half of her palm covered with the damp wrist of her hoodie.

“Bryce Lahela. Nice to meet you, stranger.”

––––

The first night home wasn’t terrible. She was practically interrogated, though.

She zoned out, slipping into the same routine she always did when she was bombarded with questions about school.

She had to stay neutral and cordial while explaining aspects of her life in grave detail on top of leaving out tons of information for her parents' health. Her parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew how much she’d drank that semester.

After dinner, she retreated into her room for the night, grimacing at the catalogue-esque decor. Her parents really leaned into the middle class american aesthetic, and she wasn’t fond of it.

She missed living in the city. Their apartment overlooked her favorite movie theater, favorite coffee shop, and the playground of her old elementary school a couple streets over.

She missed being within walking distance of places that harbored her favorite memories. And from her new window, her view was nothing more than the house across the street and a few scattered bare trees.

The only thing she enjoyed about her new house was the balcony in front of her window, just large enough for her to sit comfortably with another person. Not like that was happening anytime soon, though.

She tugged the blanket around her shoulders, trying to fight off the biting cold. She tightened the drawstrings of her hoodie, shielding her headphones from the wind so she could hear her music clearly.

Her thoughts wandered to the boy next door.

Bryce Lahela. Beautiful face, beautiful name.

She couldn’t really put a finger on it, but something about him was so familiar. Like she’d known him for lifetimes already.

God, she admired people with that quality – being able to make someone so comfortable the minute you meet them that they just slip into whatever void you’d needed filling.

Potentially a dangerous quality, but Spencer didn’t let herself think about that possibility.

The snow had let up, the freezing temperature preserving what’d already fallen. She allowed herself a glance over at the Lahela residence, half hoping she’d find him outside.

Thankfully enough, he was exiting the front door with a wide shovel in hand, bundled up properly, unlike when they’d met a couple hours before.

She watched him as he easily shoveled the muddy sludge off of the walkways. It was just quiet enough that she could hear his soft grunts with effort at the initial plunge of the shovel into the snow.

She didn’t mean to stare. But what else was there to watch? The road was quiet, bare, like a car passing by too loudly would break the suburbian immersion.

After he’d shoveled the first pathway leading up to the house, he moved to the driveway – not before he ripped the beanie off of his head, shaking out his golden strands.

She watched unabashedly, trying to figure out how the hell a gorgeous surfer bro straight out of a Hollister ad was living next door.

He squinted in her general direction, throwing up a gloved hand to cover his eyes. A grin spread quickly, and he tossed the shovel to the ground with the other hand, using it to wave.

“Hey, stranger!” He called.

She ducked down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks as his laugh rang out, disrupting the silence.

–––

Ten pages from the end of her crime novel, right before they revealed the killer, a heavy handed knock caused Spencer to jolt nearly a foot into the air from her sitting position on the couch.

She picked up the book that morning, trying to do something productive that’d double as an excuse to get out of conversing with her parents. Eight hours later, give or take, and they’d barely bugged her for meals, let alone awkward small talk.

Shuffling to the door in her pajama pants, she yawned as she yanked the door open, expecting to see a mailman or something of that nature.

Bryce stood there instead, flirty smile and all, dimple pronounced like the cherry on top of his overwhelming attractiveness.

“Am I boring you already? Sheesh,” he teased, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She cut her yawn off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry, I –” She cut herself off with yet another yawn, shaking her head. “Uh, sorry. I know that was probably super ugly.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was cute.”

She tugged her arms around herself, the tank top doing virtually nothing to shield her from the cold. “So… What’s up?”

He grinned, digging in his pocket. “I’m glad you asked.”

He whipped out two tickets, handing them to her. “Light show. You and me. Now.”

“Now?” She asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

“Yeah, now. What about it?”

She gestured to her outfit. “I’m not dressed.”

“So? Get dressed,” he shrugged again.

She rolled her eyes. “You really think my parents will let me out this late? I came back to a curfew, you know.”

“Oh. We can work around that.”

“How?” She was genuinely baffled by this guy’s confidence.

“Sneak out.”

“Did you… Did you just skip over the part where I hinted at how strict my parents are?”

He shrugged, again. “Worst case scenario, they ground you for the rest of the break. Then you go back to college in a couple weeks, and they can’t boss you around there, so what are you really risking?”

She chewed her lip, contemplating. “I mean, I can’t argue with you on that one.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yeah. You’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.

“Like they could resist this face.”

––––

Downtown – or what she presumed was downtown – was overtaken by lights, the edges of the area blocked off, vendors lined up in parking spaces, nets of overhead lights illuminating the huge displays below.

They’d been walking in silence for a while, just soaking it in and basking in the holiday spirit.

Despite her disdain for the town, Spencer loved the way they celebrated the holidays.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Bryce said a bit suddenly, running off before she had a chance to respond.

“Oh… kay,” Spencer murmured, watching him disappear into the crowd. She tugged at her beanie, raking shaky fingers through her hair.

Bryce was… unwavering. He had such a strong personality and a knack for flirting without meaning to.

To put it in its simplest terms, he made her nervous. Really nervous.

It was like the minute he left her immersion was broken and she realized just how hot he was and that she should be nervous.

Her eyes wandered, trying to alleviate some of her apprehension. She hadn’t been to a community-unifying event like that one before, so watching the families and children prance through the snow was enough to fulfill the soft spot in her heart only classic Christmas movies could fill.

“Here,” Bryce huffed from behind her, breaking her concentration.

She turned at the sound of his voice, flinching when she realized how close he was to her, disposable coffee cup in hand, steam slithering out of the small hole in the lid.

“What’s that?”

“Hot chocolate. I figured you’d want something to warm you up,” he smiled, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she said graciously, taking the cup from his hands, warming both by the way their fingers brushed each others’ and the heat from the drink. “Thank you.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. It’s the least I could do after dragging you out here,” he said a bit sheepishly, kicking the toe of his boot into the snow.

“You didn’t drag me out anywhere. You were convincing,” she laughed, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate, revelling in the way it warmed her from the inside out. “Maybe a bit too convincing.”

“I don’t need to know how powerful I am or I’ll let it go to my head,” he winked. “How is it?”

“Delicious.”

He nodded. “Perfect.”

She sipped on her drink in silence for a while, racking her brain to come up with conversation topics.

They’d really only spoken in passing, so what the fuck were they supposed to talk about?

“So… you want to ride the train?” He asked, pointing at the train riding through the town square.

Within minutes they were seated on the train in the caboose – the very last seat. Families were spread out through the first couple cars, then onto couples.

They probably didn’t want toddlers watching high school aged kids swapping spit, so they sent them to the back.

That notion made Spencer nervous. Was she on a date? He hadn’t really specified – hell, he was barely giving her details about where they were going before dragging her out of her house.

The train began to move, slowly riding through the square, the families in the front chatting and the children giggling and waving at the passing patrons.

She chatted with Bryce about nothing in particular, just kind of getting to know each other. She found out he loved baseball, hated night classes, and was a huge fan of pineapple – he could smell it in her shampoo.

She’d just begun to relax before noticing the young couple in front of her lean in for a kiss that turned a bit heated. Her hands were clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling, her breath just as shaky.

A warm arm grazed her shoulders, his arm resting on the top of the seat. There wasn’t any pressure for her to do anything with him. But she kind of wanted to.

She mustered up the courage to flick her gaze in his direction, settling on his soft, pleasant smile, seemingly permanent on Bryce’s features.

“Is this a date?” She blurted, cursing herself immediately.

He didn’t seem phased.

“If you want it to be.”

She definitely did.

––––

The walk to her front door was long, even longer than when she was on her own lugging her belongings through the icy slush.

“I had a really nice time, Bryce,” she said, ambling up the last couple steps.

“Me, too. I’m glad I bought an extra ticket yesterday,” he grinned.

She raised a brow at him, prompting him to continue.

“After I helped you inside I immediately left to go get tickets,” he said bashfully. His cheeks were flushed – from the cold or the admission, she had no idea.

“So you’d had this date planned for a whole day?” She asked, a bit taken aback. He’d definitely painted it out to be a spur of the moment thing, no premeditation in sight.

“So it was a date,” he teased, dimple even more prominent as he spoke.

She scrunched her lips to the side to hide her own smile. “Yeah, I think it was.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She made the grave mistake of breaking eye contact, her gaze darting from his mouth back to his eyes. He closed the gap between them in one step.

“I can’t kiss you in front of my house. My parents could see,” she whispered as his gloved hand flicked her messy strands away from her cheeks.

“You wanna save this for another time?” Her heart couldn’t help but race at his playful tone.

She nodded.

“How long are you gonna be here for break?” He asked. “I wanna see you again.”

“I’ll be here through the week.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled her into a hug, warm and enveloping despite the cold. “Goodnight, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

She was so comfortable, so safe in his grip that when she felt him loosen it, she squeezed him tighter without really meaning to.

It was scary how quickly she’d grown attached to a complete stranger.

“‘Night,” she waved, eyes still trained on him as she closed the door.

––––

It took her way too long to fall asleep that night.

His last question and her agreeance to the terms ran through her head on loop.

She was anticipating what he was going to do next. Excited to see how the rest of her break would look like.

After a restless night, she awoke pretty early, lounging around in bed for way too long, aimlessly scrolling through social media.

A day ago, she’d have been jealous of her friends vacationing at the beach, but… she wasn’t as upset at the idea of being home for break.

She stood up, stretching and popping her limbs, grabbing a hoodie from her luggage to throw on.

As she did, something caught her attention, just at the edge of her peripheral – a folded slip of paper in her window sill.

She grabbed it, unravelling the damp paper, trying to decipher the bleeding ink.

“Had to leave earlier than I thought. Sorry. Not sure when I’ll see you again, so here’s my number.”

The paper had been covered in water for a long while, so long that the number at the bottom was smudged, the hardest to read out of the whole message. She could barely make out the area code, let alone the rest of it.

She crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, deciding she could just head over and ask his parents for his number instead if he’d left for school.

After trudging across the lawn through the snow, she noticed something was a bit off, but decided to push the feeling down and ring the doorbell.

She peered through the glass of their front door, realizing that the lights were off, clothes and boxes and bags strewn across the foyer.

No one was home.

––––

year two

The moment the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her house, her eyes searched the front lawn of the house next door.

The familiar sensation of disappointment lingered, despite her constant chastising to not get her hopes up.

She sat on her balcony for a couple hours a day, the space heater on full blast at her feet, trying not to look desperate as her eyes flickered to and from Bryce’s house.

But no one entered or exited the house all break.

––––

year three

He stared down the bottom of the glass, eyes trained on the milky film the eggnog left behind, the spiced rum shots he’d taken warming his limbs.

The trial had been grueling.

No one could’ve prepared him for the way the legal system chewed him up and spat him out each time he entered the courtroom and sat on the opposite side of the room, avoiding his parents’ cold glares.

He shouldn’t have had to testify against them in the first place, but who else were they going to call to the stand? Keiki? She could barely write her own name, let alone understand her rights.

And she shouldn’t have to see her parents – hell, her whole family – being scrutinized and ripped apart, televised for anyone within a thousand mile radius.

He didn’t know that this town was their escape.

If someone would’ve told him two years ago that his first Christmas in college would’ve left him in shambles, his entire world upturned, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Thank god it was one of the only properties they owned that was untouched by their blood money.

Word had spread to his university students, causing him to have to go into hiding. Did all his work from home, got special permission from the chancellor to move his courses online.

He was forced to stay in Hawaii, juggling court and school on top of the press and the general stress of life – he’d been on autopilot since his parents woke him up in the middle of the night to fly back home.

The moment he finished his finals that semester, he boarded the plane without a second thought.

He needed an escape.

Despite the whirlwind, she was on the back of his mind through it all.

Anytime his life got a little too difficult, his mind roamed to the last time he felt normal – the last 48 hours before everything went to shit.

When he’d touched down he’d entered the empty, dusty house, throwing his things down and trudging next door.

The heavy raps of his knuckles against the wooden door were the only display of confidence he could muster.

Is Spencer here? He asked.

She’s in Europe for break.

Europe.

Of all the places she had to be during the holidays, it had to be across the world.

So he found himself at the bar, a newly 21 year old downing holiday drinks as fast as the bartender could make them.

She’d probably forgotten about him. It’s best he moved on anyways.

––––

year four

Graduation was so close she could taste it.

Yeah, she was drowning in med school applications and coming down from her post MCAT high, but her degree was peeking over the horizon, just within her reach.

She could only afford to visit home for a couple days before she had to roadtrip to a couple med schools to tour and interview.

She’d grown into herself the past three years, gaining confidence she didn’t know she had in her. Countless haircuts, style changes, shifts in interest – anytime she was uncomfortable she reinvented herself. It was freeing as hell.

So… going home was weird. Like she was regressing. She knew she wasn’t, but it didn’t stop the itching feeling that she didn’t belong there.

Her parents convinced her to visit for the holidays since it was her last year before she was truly on her own. The car ride was anxiety inducing – she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her brain.

It’d been three years. She couldn’t dwell on it anymore. It was just a fun weekend, a spontaneous date, a gorgeous guy. Nothing more than that.

She’d moved on for sure – lots of dates, sloppy bar makeouts, and one night stands – but she couldn’t completely forget about the stranger.

It wasn’t like anything super memorable happened – it was a classic crush because of how confident he was.

Now that she’d started to emulate that same confidence herself, the allure was mostly gone, but she just couldn’t let him go no matter how hard she tried.

This time her eyes flickered to the house next door, gaze lingering a bit longer than she wanted to allow herself to look.

At least on paper she was growing.

–––––

Her first dinner at home was the same as always. She spent most of the time dodging intrusive questions and diplomatically answering as well as she could.

Maybe she should’ve thanked her parents for pressuring her to come home – it was perfect interview preparation and she didn’t have to lift a finger.

Her room was untouched as usual, the decor nauseatingly basic – if she hated it before, she hated it more now.

The suburban life was even farther away from what she’d wanted three years ago. Fast paced city life and a job in a world renowned hospital were her only two goals as far as she was concerned. Anything else could wait.

As she unpacked her toiletries, she found herself glancing at the door to her balcony.

She shook it off, choosing to settle in bed with a warm blanket with her laptop and planner, trying to focus on her diploma application.

––––

She jolted awake, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her cheek, grimacing when she saw streaks of drool on the fabric.

She shuddered a bit, realizing she fell asleep on top of the covers, the room’s temperature absolutely freezing.

The space heater was close by, luckily, so she didn’t have to shuffle far to plug it in, crouching down next to it to rub her hands in front of it.

The window to her balcony was cracked just slightly – it’d probably blown open bc of the wind or something. She pushed herself to her feet again, closing and locking the door, but not before catching a glimpse of a light. It wasn’t a streetlight. It was a porch light.

She flung the door open and stepped onto the balcony, ignoring the snow seeping through her fuzzy socks, numbing her toes.

Bryce’s lights were on, and fresh tire tracks trailed up the driveway to the garage.

––––

She tossed and turned that night, a little glad that she’d gotten at least some sleep in the form of a nap.

She gave up after a while, brewing coffee and sitting in the kitchen with her laptop for a couple of hours before her parents awoke.

When they finally woke up, she practically jumped at the chance to ask them about him.

“No one’s lived next door for years. Someone comes and checks up on it once or twice a year, but other than that, it’s vacant,” her mother said, elbows deep in a sink full of dirty plates.

She was thankful her mom was preoccupied so she wouldn’t see her deflate.

––––

Spencer allowed herself approximately thirty minutes of sulking before she made a to-do list of everything she needed to get done before noon.

She’d been home for less than a day and she was already itching to get out.

The drive from her parents’ house to the tiny coffee shop was short, the handful of tables inside bare. She guessed it was because most people were at home enjoying spending time with family – she was the odd one out for having her planner and laptop splayed across the table.

She was neck deep in a chem textbook when she saw him.

He was more chiseled. Taller, too.

The beanie was tugged tight around his head, cheeks flushed. The quarter zip up fit him like a glove, hugging every single muscle.

He slipped his gloves off, tucking them into his pocket, squinting – probably trying to decipher the inane pun names for each drink.

“Can I get a, uh, latte with a couple espresso shots?” She heard him ask, peeking over the top of her textbook, trying to get a good look at him.

He chuckled pretty suddenly, pointing at the clear display of pastries. “Add one of those little things onto it.”

“You mean the ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’ cake pop or the ‘Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, sir?” The teen said.

His grin stretched even wider, hunching over to read the labels. “Can you tell me the rest of the flavors?”

“Well, we’ve got the full setup of reindeers. It gets pretty confusing at times – ’Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, ‘Prancer & Vixen Vanilla’, ‘Comet & Cupid Cheesecake’, ‘Donner & Blitzen Berry’, and ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’,” the teen listed off, pointing at the nearly identical cake pops.

He laughed, booming throughout the small room, ringing out even over the blenders.

Yeah, that was Bryce. No doubt about it.

“Give me one of each,” he said, handing the teen a couple bills. While they counted the change, Bryce tossed a $20 bill onto the counter. “This is compensation for having to read those god awful names.”

They mirrored his expression, pocketing the bill.

Spencer was nearly frozen with fear – she didn’t think she was going to run into him. She looked frumpy and felt exhausted, and was a little frustrated at how little she understood from the passages she’d tried deciphering.

She stood up, then sat down immediately. She stood up again, conflicted.

But before she could decide what to do, he turned, coffee in hand, bag of cake pops in the other – one cake pop tucked deep into his cheek.

She saw him.

He saw her.

Time slowed.

She was grateful that he was the first to move towards her, eyes bright, gaze soft like he’d seen an old friend – God, that reaction alone was enough to make Spencer float above the clouds.

He chewed his cake pop on the way over, setting down his bag and coffee near the edge of the table out of the way of her mess.

“Hey,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, chewing vigorously.

“Bryce, oh my god, I – I thought I’d never see you again – you just disappeared and –”

He held up a hand, swallowing. “What’d you say?”

“Oh, I said that I thought I’d never see you again –”

“Wait, wait,” he flipped the side of his beanie up, revealing wireless headphones, which he tugged out and immediately pocketed.

Christ. Embarrassing. Her cheeks burned, inwardly cringing. This is going so swimmingly, Spencer.

He shook his head incredulously, mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I… didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, eyes slowly raking over her features.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d see you, Bryce,” she said, nervously adjusting her glasses. Good thing he didn’t notice her recycling sentiments.

“So… how have you been?” He smiled, taking a sip of his latte.

He was playing this way cooler than she was. How was he not freaking the fuck out?

“I’ve been good. Uh, good and kinda busy I guess. I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of med schools and I’m graduating this spring, so I’m excited about that,” she said, trying and failing to figure out how to condense three years worth of personal growth into a couple sentences without boring him to tears. “What about you?”

He nodded, tipping back the steaming latte again. “I’ve been pretty good. Got into my dream med school and it’s, like, across the country from where I am now, so that’ll be good for me. Fresh start, you know?”

She gave him a slight smile, closing her textbook and stacking her planner on top of it.

“Oh, I was just picking this stuff up, so I can let you get back to studying,” he said, unsure, jabbing his thumb towards the door.

“No, no, I was closing it so I can give you my full attention,” she explained, shaking her head. “Just getting some random stuff done. I’m fine.”

He relaxed a bit more at that, settling into his seat like he was at home. “So… what are you working on?”

“I’m getting some last stuff done before I leave this weekend. Just some basic housekeeping. Ironing out details, you know,” she nodded, fiddling with the frayed hole on the hem of her hoodie.

He was trying to jump back in like everything was… normal. This wasn’t normal.

“Oh you’re leaving?” He seemed disappointed, a wrinkle forming between his brows where he pushed them together.

“Yeah, I’m using part of my break to fit in some last minute tours and interviews.”

“Oh… Well if you’re leaving soon, do you wanna do dinner at my place tonight?” He asked. “I feel like we’d be more comfortable catching up there.”

A… date? After all these years? And he still knows literally nothing about me?

––––

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

His pulse raced, wondering if she’d reject him. He should’ve thought it through before blurting out a question like that. He’d spoken to her for all of five minutes and he was already asking her to go back to his place.

“So… is this a date?”

The mischievous look on her face was contagious – just a hint of flirtatious teasing like the first time they met.

“Yeah, but only if you want it to be,” he answered, tossing the drink back again, the liquid warming his insides (his morning run was long, and the wind was biting).

“And if I don’t?” She adjusted her glasses again, the only sign of tension amidst her otherwise calm demeanor.

And if he hadn’t ran through the memories of that night over and over, fixating on every little detail he managed to retain, he might’ve not caught it.

Her nervousness was a comfort – It meant she still liked him enough to be on edge around him.

“Then we’re just two neighbors catching up while eating food,” he shrugged, popping another cake pop in his mouth.

He held the bag out to her. “Want one?”

She peered over into the bag, lashes gently brushing her under eyes. “Will you get mad if I take Rudolph?”

God, she was so fucking pretty. He couldn’t get over it. All these years and she only managed to get hotter.

“Why would that bother me?” He mumbled through his mouth full of cake.

“He’s supposed to be special, right? I just thought you’d want him,” she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in more.

He sat up, leaning an elbow on the table, tipping forward to close the gap between them – he plucked the cake pop from the bag by its stick, waving it in front of her face.

She didn’t retreat. The only reaction was the color rising to her cheeks, a hint of rouge beneath the spatter of light freckles on her face – the ones that no one could see unless they were this close.

“You’re special, too, y’know,” he said, pushing the limits even more, bringing it to her lips. “Take it.”

He was egging her on, testing whatever change she’d clearly been through – underneath the confidence lurked something sultry that he desperately wanted to bring out of her.

She leaned forward and lowered her mouth around the pop, sinking her teeth into the stick, her lips grazing the tips of Bryce’s fingers.

She pulled back, chewing through a smile. “Yum.”

His stomach flipped, but he kept his poker face even.

It was odd, having this girl in front of him that he’d thought about for years when he’d convinced himself it was a fluke or a dream or a little bit of both.

They both chewed in silence, eyes still firmly locked on each other.

There was so much he needed to say but it just wasn’t the right time.

“What time should I come over?” She asked after swallowing.

“When do you usually eat dinner?”

She rolled her eyes at him, still trying to hold back a smile even though she clearly found him mildly entertaining if not infuriating as hell (which was an attitude he thrived off of).

“I don’t care, Spence. Whenever you want.”

––––

Bryce tapped his foot, adjusting the napkins and cutlery for the hundredth time before pacing towards the monitor that showed him the front door’s security cam.

He should not have told her to come over whenever. The delivery guy was stuck in traffic, so his whole plan of pretending like he cooked was thwarted by the icy roads.

He checked the delivery app for the millionth time, the time remaining still stuck on “14 minutes”.

Was a button up with slacks too much for dinner? Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been nervous before a date.

He wasn’t sure if it ever had happened before, because it didn’t happen.

He wasn’t afraid of shooting his shot with anyone. That cute guy at the gym? No hesitation. His bio lab partner sophomore year? Of course. The ex-girlfriend of the one fraternity brother he didn’t like? Yup. That one fraternity brother he really liked? Hell yeah.

There wasn’t a time that he he actually had to try to get someone to like him – his conquests weren’t really conquests. They’d always just kind of… fallen into his lap, for lack of a better phrase.

But he also couldn’t name a single person he’d “pined” for, whatever that meant. Spencer was the first girl that had slipped through his fingers – maybe this date would be closure. If she was down to fuck, maybe they’d get the weird three-year-long outstanding “what if?” question answered.

He filled the bucket with ice, neatly digging the champagne bottle’s base into it, even grabbing a rag to wipe the perspiration off the metal to buy some time.

A few more minutes passed. When he checked the app again, it’d changed to “13 minutes”, and Spencer was walking down his driveway.

Even on the grainy screen he could tell that whatever she had on was gonna drive him wild.

He strode towards the door, flinging it open to greet her.

“Hey, Spencer,” he grinned, opening his arms wide for a hug.

She matched his expression with a sweet smile of her own, slipping into his grip and molding herself against his body like she belonged there.

Fuck, she smelled delicious. Her hair, her lip gloss, her perfume – everything about her was delectable and made holding back all the more harder.

“Hey, Bryce,” she murmured, squeezing him. “It’s cold. Can we move inside?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry about that,” he apologized, pulling back but keeping his palm on her lower back, shutting and locking the door behind him.

She walked into the main corridor, just kind of… observing. Taking everything in.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” He asked, glancing down at her discreetly.

“It’s… nice. I can tell it’s your parents’ house.”

He chuckled, surprised. “Yeah, but what is that supposed to mean?”

“None of your personality is in this house. I figured it’d be brighter. Less marble, too,” she said, gesturing towards the decorations straight from a catalogue sprinkled throughout the house.

He couldn’t help that his parents insisted on flying out their personal interior designer to every house they owned. But it didn’t make it any less cringe worthy.

“No, you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging. “Can’t argue with that.”

He gently steered them towards the kitchen, his eyes flitting towards her as she scanned the house, a pleasant enough look on her face.

“What would you change about this house?” She asked, sliding onto one of the never-been-used barstools.

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t even have it in the first place,” he said, opening the cabinet next to the fridge, retrieving the champagne glasses.

“Really?”

“Really. If I had it my way, we would’ve never left Maui.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Setting the glasses down in front of her, he stood on the other side of the counter, grabbing the bottle by its neck, unravelling the wrapping on the outside. “Hope this is alright. I just picked a bottle that looked expensive.”

“Expensive doesn’t mean better,” she said, eyes trained on the bottle, probably trying to read the label.

“You’re right, again. Two for two,” he joked, sliding the cork from the opening with a loud “pop”, the sound ricocheting off the walls and flooring.

After pouring it, he cocked his head her way, encouraging her to take the first sip.

She tipped the glass back, her nose scrunching after taking a deep swallow. “Mmmm. I would’ve settled for the shitty boxed wine I drank in college over this.”

He took a sip and shook his head, sticking his tongue out with a grimace. “Yeah, this tastes like ass.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed, making a breathy choking sound that he found oddly endearing.

“To answer your question, I’d probably paint the walls yellow. Hang up my grandpa’s old surfboard my dad passed down to me, if I can even find it. Maybe some movie posters,” he continued, gesturing towards the deadspace on the walls in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I pictured, too,” she hummed, shivering after downing the rest of the glass.

“You don’t have to drink anymore. We agreed it tastes like shit,” he walked over to the cabinet, browsing the bottles, nearly empty. “I only have… a little bit of tequila and some rum.”

“I’ll take a rum and coke then,” she smiled gratefully, pushing the empty glass to the side.

While making the drinks, he checked his phone, hoping that the driver was close by. No luck – the time hadn’t shifted.

“So… when’s the delivery guy getting here?”

He could sense her behind him. When he turned to offer her a glass, he realized just how close she was.

She accepted the glass, craning her neck around him to look at his phone’s screen. “I knew it.”

“What? What’d you know?” He asked, unable to look anywhere but her plush lips, curved upwards into a grin.

She was life-ruiningly pretty. It was like God himself scanned Bryce’s brain and 3D copied his fantasies into the form of Spencer Matsuzaki, who was quite literally the girl of his dreams.

“I knew you weren’t a cooking type. I figured you were gonna get takeout, and I was right,” she pointed at his screen, the delivery app still open.

“Yeah, I was gonna try to impress you and pretend that I’d cooked everything but clearly that didn’t pan out,” he chuckled, peering down at her.

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Bryce. I would’ve easily clocked that,” she shook her head, taking a quick sip of her drink, still standing close enough to him that he could feel her breath on him each time she laughed.

Before he dropped everything and propositioned her right there to take it to the living room, she turned on her heel and walked back towards her stool.

They sipped their drinks in silence, an air of awkwardness settling into the atmosphere – for the first time in, well, years they were completely and utterly alone.

She chewed her lip, swiping her thumb across the perspiration on the cup. “So…”

“So?”

“I feel like we have a lot of ground to cover.”

He nodded. “I guess the question now is ‘where do we start?’”

“We could just ask each other stuff and see how that goes.”

“I’ll go first – are you still single?”

A laugh ripped from her chest, bounding off the walls and floor, filling up the space with sound (one that was quickly becoming his favorite).

“That’s the first thing you ask me? After all these years?” She asked incredulously, shaking her head in awe.

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Avoiding the question? Or you’re single?” He teased.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no.”

“Oh, at the moment. Seems like I’ve got some competition.”

Laughing, she tipped her head back to take a deep gulp. He watched as she did, a bit envious of the glass wrapped between her fingers and the rim caught between her lips.

She was a bit more timid when she drank the hot chocolate he offered her years before, cupping it with both hands and taking soft sips, smiling shyly, like being offered a drink on a date was something she should be grateful for.

The way she held herself was different. Before, it was like she was apologetic for taking up too much space, but this version of Spencer took the world by storm – like when she walked into the room, she claimed the space as her own before anyone else could tell her differently.

Whatever miniscule reservations he had about sleeping with her were out the window before she set her glass back down.

“I’m assuming you don’t have anyone at home waiting for you if you asked me that first,” she said, bluntly, chewing on a piece of ice.

“What makes you say that?” “Well you’re obviously gauging whether or not you want to fuck me tonight so I might as well be as upfront as you,” she shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Is that so?” He quirked a brow at her. “Would you count frequent hookups?”

“Nope. I’ve got those, too, but I don’t count ‘em.”

“So you turned out to be pretty wild, huh?”

She laughed. “I hope you realize how weird you sound. I’m not who I was at 18. Shit, and you barely even knew me then!”

He held his hands up in protest. “My bad.”

She tapped her nails on the counter, looking a bit conflicted. “No, it’s okay. Just a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.”

“Parents, huh?”

“Yep. Don’t quite approve of who I am, even though I’m literally going to be studying to be a doctor,” she rolled her eyes. “I did get pretty wild, though. I mean, I had to get it out of my system before med school, you know?”

He shrugged. “Totally understandable.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t yours here? I figured I was going to accidentally run into them or something,” she mused, crunching on another ice cube.

He tried hiding his reaction, but he couldn’t help the way he tensed up at the mere mention of them. The thought of her bringing them up crossed his mind before, so thankfully he was able to keep it moving.

“Oh, they moved back to Hawaii a while ago. Been waiting to put this house on the market but it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

“So why aren’t you with them for the holidays?”

He stiffened, racking his brain for a believable lie. There was no fucking way he was baring his soul to the girl that just stepped back into his life.

She was the last good memory he had before everything went to shit, so he couldn’t break the illusion. Spencer was too good for this – maybe too good for him.

Court baggage was a heavy load to bear. Criminal baggage was even heavier. Lying to save face was the only way he could protect them both.

“Oh, it was just cheaper for me to stay here than fly back to Hawaii.”

She nodded, seemingly in agreeance, swirling the last bit of ice around her glass before tipping it back again. “S’good you get a little peace and quiet between semesters.”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, practically sighing in relief, thankful the crisis was averted.

“I do have a question, though,” she said, setting the glass down and pushing it away from her. “Why did you leave your number on my window sill?”

He leaned over the counter, bracing his arms against it. “So you did see it.”

“You’re lucky I found it! You could not have chosen a worse place to put it.”

“Well, you used to always walk out on your balcony so I thought it’d be safe.”

She pursed her lips, seemingly holding back a smile. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course. Why didn’t you, you know, use the number, though?” He asked, teasing.

Her mouth popped open, looking almost offended by his words. “Oh my god, you think if I had your number we still wouldn’t have talked for three years?”

“When you put it that way, I guess it doesn’t make sense,” he laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

“No, but I can’t get over that – you thought this entire time that I just didn’t try to contact you? Bryce, you offered to kiss me before literally disappearing into the night – you thought I wouldn’t have at least, you know, tried following up on that?” Spencer was giggling in between her words, barely able to get it out of her system.

“Yeah, well, you think I didn’t want to follow up on the kiss either? I’m the one who offered!”

They were cutting up, both leaning over the counter, folded over in laughter. They’d shifted closer as they got more comfortable with each other, their arms nearly grazing each others’ over the cold granite.

God, she was so beautiful. Everything he felt when he met her three years ago was pretty much amplified. He had it bad for her.

When she noticed how close they were, her eyes flitted to his lips, tongue darting out to wet her own.

“You wanna cash in on that now? I heard that ‘Bryce Lahela Kiss Coupons’ never expire,” he said, voice low, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb over her chin.

“Bryce…” she said, closing her eyes, before leaning back to put some distance between them. “We have to lay some ground rules first.”

He sighed, standing up at his full height. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’m not trying to go all analytical on you, but we have to get this out of the way first. Tell me where your top three med schools are.”

A snort escaped him before he could stop himself. “What, do you only fuck guys that go to –”

“– And girls –”

“And girls – that go to John Hopkins?” He asked, teasing. “Me, too, by the way.”

She shook her head, ignoring his joke. “Nope. Just tell me.”

“Well, I’m looking at California, New York, and Chicago. What about you?”

“Ohio, Virginia, and Washington.”

The pieces fell into place for him. “Damn, you were playing chess and I was playing checkers, huh?”

She laughed. “No, no, I was just curious. I didn’t think we’d get as far as relationship talk, but I figured after everything we’d been through, we might as well discuss it, you know?”

“So that means this is a one-and-done type deal.”

“I guess so,” she said, scratching at her neck. “I’ve made out with plenty of people before and forgotten it, so if you want to just see how we feel, I’m down.”

“Oh, I think you’ll remember this for a while,” he said, stretching across the counter to gently cup her face in both hands, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Their first kiss was unlike no other. What’d started out as an offhanded joke to relieve three years worth of tension quickly morphed into desperate grabbing of clothes, heavy pants, and even heavier tension crackling like a fire between them.

She fisted his collar, dragging him to her over the counter, kneeling on her bar stool and pushing herself closer and closer to him.

Bryce had his share of sloppy bar makeouts, passionate kisses amidst sex – even sweet domestic kisses during mundane tasks. But this kiss? Somehow it was a bit of everything rolled into one.

They parted pretty abruptly when he elbowed her empty champagne glass and it clattered against the counter.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling back just a hair to check the damage.

When he turned back, she was still holding him, staring at him, a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before.

“That was…” her lids fluttered, tongue darting out to lick her lips – like she was savoring his taste.

“Really good.”

She nodded. “Insanely good.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Is it what you were dreaming of?” He teased, but there was a hint of sincerity to it.

She nodded again, her grip tightening on his collar. “I’m a little scared at how much I enjoyed it.”

“Scared? Why?” He murmured, stroking his thumb against her cheek in comfort.

“Well… this can’t happen,” she gestured between them.

“It doesn’t have to happen. We can pretend like the kiss never did, just like you said. I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

“But… what if I want it to?”

He couldn’t conceal the smirk tugging at his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?”

She tried holding back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, you can think about it over dinner, whenever that gets here.”

The driver took about twenty minutes, and eating took them twenty more. Small talk was managed, jokes were cracked, but there was an unmistakable feeling in the air that both of them could sense.

Bryce was no stranger to sexual tension. Hell, he thrived on it.

Making a cute girl blush? Exhilarating. Getting a guy at the bar fund his hangover? Incredible. Those few minutes between knowing you’re going to fuck someone and actually fucking them? Couldn’t get enough.

The minute their plates were cleared, she took his hand and led him upstairs, throwing glances back at him like if she let go for a second he’d disappear.

As much as he just wanted to fool around, he couldn’t help but pocket the small details for later, just in case he decided it was alright to get emotionally invested. Despite feeling like he had a hold on the situation, he definitely didn’t.

He was a bit delusional in thinking he wasn’t already falling for her the way she was for him.

––––

[part 1.5 coming soon]

____

They’d been curled up in bed for nearly an hour and a half, just talking, every once in a while pulling the other in for another kiss that led to roaming hands.

In another life, if they’d both lived in that town and grew up there, there was no doubt they’d be best friends. High school sweethearts, even.

But she knew that whatever daydreams she’d conjured up could never be reality.

This was a one-time thing. They both knew that.

After a lull in conversation she slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes and tossing them onto the bed.

“You leaving?” He asked, sitting up.

“Uh, yeah. I think I need to get going. I’ve still got a curfew,” she shrugged, making a hand motion like she was pulling the trigger.

“Still have one? Damn, that sucks. Am I gonna get to see you tomorrow?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He remembered her curfew?

She snapped her bra back in place, avoiding his eye as she slid on her straps. “I, um, have to leave.”

“I thought you were staying through the weekend?” He sounded taken aback, like he thought he had more time.

She slipped her underwear and pants on fast. “I have a long drive ahead of me and I kinda wanted a night to breathe before I tour and interview, you know?”

He was silent. She threw her sweater on before daring a glance at him. His eyes were trained on the mattress, refusing to look at her.

“Bryce,” she called, but he shook his head.

She sat on the mattress, tipping his chin up with her finger. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, sighing. “It’s stupid.”

“C’mon, it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

“I’m kinda regretting this being a one-time thing.”

She raked his hair back, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am, too.”

He met her eyes again, brows furrowed. “You are?”

She nodded. “I like you. A lot.”

“So what’s stopping us? We can make it work if we try –”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, looking at the ground. “I don’t know if we can.”

“Why not?”

“The distance, first of all. And we’re going to be in different programs in different states, so there’s no way we can fully commit to school and our future if we’re trying to start a relationship and maintain it –”

“Spencer, you think I’m gonna give up that easily after all this time? I just got you back,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“This isn’t giving up, Bryce… this is… practical. Rational,” she added, leaning into his touch. “The right thing to do.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, but… I think it’s easier to move on now rather than later when we’re in too deep,” she gulped, trying to soothe the lump forming in her throat.

She knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, but she figured it’d be easier than falling for him over phone calls and video chats and sweet good morning texts and the inevitable breakup that came after.

“You sure we’re not already in it?” He asked, underneath his breath, gaze flitting to her lips.

She rolled her lips, shaking her head, trying to mask her wobbling chin.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, I get it, but I need you to know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you,” he said, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “And – and I never thought I’d see you again, so I don’t want to let you go without at least, you know, trying to fight for you.”

He brought her in for a deep kiss, seemingly trying to plead his case with his touch.

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways and pretend tonight didn’t happen. It might be less difficult,” she murmured after he pulled away.

“None of this will be easy for us, Spence,” he pressed their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes.

“Honestly, I want nothing more than to be with you. I want you so badly, but I’ve got so many commitments and my career and I can’t just throw my responsibilities out the window, because I know I would – that’s what scares me,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“You’re right. I hate that you’re right.”

––––

When she slipped back into her room after saying a quick goodnight to her parents, she curled up in her bed and cried.

She didn’t want to cry – it was like her body wouldn’t let her hold it in any longer. The sobs wracked her body as if personified guilt had grabbed her by the shoulders, dug its fingers into her skin, and shook her the tears from her.

Hours later, she woke up in the middle of the night, face still puffy and irritated. As she stood up to go throw cool water on her face, she noticed something taped to her window.

His number and socials were listed in a neat bulleted list, and below it, he’d scrawled a simple note:

“If we meet again.”

––––

#playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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flowerpowell · 3 years

Text

The Royal Holiday Romance (Liam x MC)

PART FIVE

A/N: We’re almost done with this mini series! Thank you to everyone who leaves feedback - it’s such a motivation to keep writing! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter as well!

Rating: G

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @twinkleallnight @kingliam-rys @sfb123 @iaminlovewithtrr @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @lodberg @shanzay44 ❣

“Lunch?”

Victoria smiled at the message Liam just sent her. She had just shot her scene of the day and was packing her bag to head back to the hotel.

“Gladly.”

“I can be at your hotel in twenty minutes, is that alright?”

“Perfect :)”

Twenty minutes to change her clothes and refresh herself wasn’t a lot but she wanted to see Liam so bad that she was actually glad she didn’t have to wait too long. She was falling for him, slowly but steadily. It was the first time she let herself catch any feelings after having her heart broken by a senior in her drama club, when she was a freshman. The guy who had been her crush for a few months, broke up with her on the day she told him she loved him, claiming he couldn’t be in a serious relationship with a freshman because he had a promising career and she didn’t.

Victoria shook her head trying to get rid of the memories. It was a long time ago. And Liam was different. And most importantly, he wasn’t any famous or concerned about his career.

~~~~

“I’m telling her today,” Liam murmured, putting on his coat. Drake’s raised eyebrow suggesting he didn’t believe his best friend’s promises.

“I really am. That’s why I invited her to lunch today. I’ll be honest with her.”

“I hope so. She was honest with you and it’s only fair you tell her the truth as well.”

“I know. But you can’t blame me for not wanting her to see me as the King. I really enjoyed being just Liam with her.” Liam sighed. Why was his life so complicated?

“I understand but I also think that if you want to continue it, no relationship should be based on a lie,” Drake replied.

Relationship.

Liam smiled at the thought but his smile quickly disappeared. He wasn’t sure if she would want to continue this relationship or whatever it was after learning the truth. Dating a King wasn’t anything like dating a normal guy. She said she didn’t like being in the center of attention, which was why she was struggling as an actress but being a King’s girlfriend or wife would be putting her literally in the center of attention.

What wife? Liam, stop thinking about it. You’re getting ahead of yourself, yet again.

It was so easy to think about it, though. He felt understood, he felt like a part of him, a long forgotten part of him was unlocked again with her. And it was mostly because… she saw him as Liam. He was just Liam.

If only my life was easier.

~~~~

“I don’t understand why this place is so empty this time of the day! The food is delicious,” Victoria commented as she took another bite of her lasagne.

Liam bit his lip not wanting to admit it was the most popular place in the town but he closed it for them to have a conversation. He didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him before Victoria learned the truth.

“And the owner is so nice! I don’t have that many followers but maybe if I posted a picture from here on my Instagram, it’d get more customers. Oh! Or I can ask Hana to post the picture! She has twenty million followers!” Victoria took out her phone and snapped a few pictures.

“That’s so kind of you,” Liam noticed. He was falling more and more in love with her. She cared about people she didn’t even know and she wanted to help them. She’d make a great Queen. Liam couldn’t stop thinking what it would feel like to be cared for by her just the same, if she was his wife.

“Victoria, there’s… something I wanted to discuss with you,” he started. Victoria put down her phone and locked her eyes with his.

“Did something happen?”

“No… Yes. Well…”

“Okay, wait, I think… I think I get it,” she said sadly.

“You… You do?” Did she google him? Did someone tell him he was a King? Did—

“I do. You had a great time with me but I live in America and you live here and I’m an actress, well, a crappy one if you ask me but whatever, and you don’t think it’s gonna work out and maybe it’s better if we’re friends.” She finished and Liam’s eyes widened.

“That’s not exactly what I planned to say,” he ran his hand through his hair. It was a nervous twitch that he had and the one Victoria always noticed.

“You probably would say something more elaborate with your lovely accent; mine is just a short, harsh, American version of it,” she tried to laugh but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I… wasn’t trying to break up with you… I mean… We’re not dating…Or are we?”

“No… I think? I don’t know… I thought, after yesterday…” she trailed off and quickly composed herself. “I probably got carried away. I’m sorry. I understood it all wrong. Of course we can be friends.”

Liam blinked a few times trying to understand her chaotic speech. She truly was the most interesting woman he ever met.

“No, I thought the same. I mean, about dating. I mean…” Goodness, he was awkward. For someone who gave speeches on a daily basis, he was very inarticulate at the moment. “I never asked you properly to be my girlfriend but I would very much like you to be one.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “So that’s what you wanted to talk about? I assumed you wanted to stop seeing me.”

“No! Never!” The owner of the restaurant looked up from his phone at Liam’s raised voice. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. Quite the opposite, I was hoping we could see each other more but I wasn’t sure if you would want to.” Because I’m the King of the country, my schedule is busy and I lied to you, he added in his thoughts.

“Why wouldn’t I want to? Liam, I might have met you recently but I feel like I know a lot about you. And I told you a lot about me, too. And… And even though, I’m not the first to jump into a relationship like that, I feel that what we have… would be a good base for our… relationship. I think,” she mumbled.

Liam closed his eyes. She did know him. She knew him better than all the nobles he’d known for ages. She got to know the side of him that was unavailable for everyone else. She got to know Liam. And he couldn’t pretend he didn’t like it. He loved being Liam. Not King Liam. Liam. Just Liam. And he could be that with her.

“Does it mean… you do want to…” He started, unsure of where he was going.

“Be your girlfriend?” He smiled at her faintly. “Absolutely.”

~~~~

“So just for the record.” Drake was pacing back and forth in Liam’s bedroom. “You met up with her to tell her the truth… But ended up asking her to be your girlfriend… Without actually telling her the truth?”

“So it may seem.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Drake, please. I know what you’re trying to tell me but I have no idea what to do.”

“Um… tell her truth?! Maybe?”

“I wish it was that easy,” Liam huffed.

“Would be easier if you told her who you are from the very beginning.”

“I know! I tried! I couldn’t! I don’t… I don’t want to lose her,” he added quietly.

After lunch, Liam took her on a walk and they spend a whole day talking and kissing. He felt so happy he couldn’t say anything. To say he scared to lose her would be an understatement. He was terrified.

“Listen, Li… You know I want the best for you but the chances that you’ll lose her are higher when she doesn’t know. The longer you wait… Let me just say, it may end very badly for you.”

Liam sighed as Drake left his room. He knew it. He knew he shouldn’t wait so long with telling her. But for some reason, being with her made him forget about being a King.

How could he ever bring that up?

~~~~

He couldn’t tell her.

They met up every single day for almost two weeks and the topic was never brought up. He couldn’t. When he was with her, he forgot about the whole world.

Every evening, when he came back to the palace, with a lovesick smile on his face, he couldn’t look Drake in the eyes because he knew what his best friend would tell him.

And he’d be right.

But Drake never saw the way Victoria looked at him. He didn’t know how Victoria made Liam feel. And he could never know, how nearly impossible it was for a King to find something like that.

He was equally surprised and happy that Victoria still hadn’t figured out who he was. He once broached the subject and Victoria told him she never checked the Internet or television or read any magazines. She said she hated gossip and didn’t want to read anything about her online. Liam sighed with relief at her words. His secret was safe, at least for a little longer.

He was also happy when Victoria told him she prolonged her stay in Cordonia. She finished shooting all of her scenes but decided to stay a bit longer, at least until Hana would be finished with her scenes. Which meant she was staying for at least five more weeks.

That meant five more weeks with her.

And five more weeks of hiding the truth.

~~~~

Victoria was walking to her hotel straight from the set. It was a beautiful day, sunny but cold, and she decided to take a longer way home. Besides going on set and dates with Liam, she didn’t walk anywhere by herself. She didn’t have to. Liam showed her around and she felt she knew Cordonia very well. She was strolling along the street, admiring the view when she noticed two girls, teenagers maybe, pointing their fingers at her and laughing.

Oho, someone does watch my crappy movies and recognizes me.

She smiled at them and walked past them, ignoring the laughter.

Victoria didn’t even manage to walk five more meters before she noticed a woman sizing her up.

Another fan? She wondered as she smiled lightly. The woman didn’t like it. She came up to Victoria and jostled her.

“What are you doing?” Victoria asked but the woman spitted on her.

“Whore!” She yelled, making all the passersby stop and look at them.

“Excuse me? I think you mistook me for someone.” Victoria took a step back. She never played a whore in any movie and she was sure the woman made a mistake.

“You’re a whore! Leave our King alone, you American bitch! You won’t get famous using him!” The woman yelled. Victoria quickly backed away, noticing a few people taking photos. She ran back to her hotel room and closed the door. To calm down, she took a long shower and made herself a cup of tea.

“Tori?” She heard Hana call out.

“Here!” Victoria answered from her bedroom. Now that she was calm, she decided to go online and see why people were taking pictures of her and what happened. She had an uneasy feeling that the woman didn’t make any mistake, however, she still didn’t understand what she was saying.

“You okay? I’ve heard someone attacked you on the street?”

“I’m fine. It wasn’t an attack. I think a lady mistook me for someone. But some people took pictures of me and I want to check if they wrote anything.”

Hana nodded and sat down next to her friend as Tori opened a new tab and googled her name. Both Victoria and Hana raised their eyebrows when they saw the headlines:

American Media Whore Seduces the King! How Victoria Brooks, an actress known to no one is using King Liam to get on top. EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS.

With shaking hands Victoria opened the article, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. Hana looked at her concerned.

“I don’t understand, Tori… You met the King?”

“I didn’t! I never even saw him!” Victoria was nearly crying. “He never showed up at the dinner and I never heard of him again!”

Victoria closed her eyes as the page was loading. She always hated attention but it seemed like she couldn’t escape it. But who came up with such lies?

The page loaded and Victoria saw pictures of her and Liam; their date in the park, when they were leaving her hotel, them kissing on the beach… But what did it have to do with the King?

She turned to Hana and saw her friend, staring at the photos with her eyes wide open in shock.

“That’s… the guy you’ve been seeing?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“Yes. That’s Liam. I just don’t understand it… Is he related to the King? Or what?”

“Tori… This is the King. Liam. King Liam. He’s the King of Cordonia.”

#choices #the royal romance #the royal heir #king liam #playchoices #liam rys #king liam x mc #liam x mc #trr #choices trr #trr liam #my fic

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trashcankitty12 · 3 years

Text

Flora Headcanons:

Guys, meet the Sugar and Sweet part of the Winx Club.

Or, as you already know her: Flora La Rosa of Linphea.

Under the cut are the headcanons because again, these get long. (Also some I’ve mentioned before, I think, but whatever. And again, these are mostly for my main verse ‘Balance/The New Company of Light’ and for ‘Left’.)

-Flora has a rather large family, one that stems partially from cousins adopted after the Great War of Magic ended. (So many were displaced or orphaned, and her family was just one of many who took in the children left behind.)

-Honestly though, she really just sees her immediate family often, the rest of them coming around only for major Linphean holidays. (Though they all stay in touch through letters, phone calls, and social media. Especially the cousins.)

-Flora tends to be closer to her father as they share a similar sense of humor and have similar hobbies (like leaf surfing and giant ladybug racing). But her magic took after her mother’s and her mother was her first magic teacher.

-(She was a bit late getting her magic and a bit late getting her wings. She was eight when her magic came in and already 13 by the time her wings sprouted. Though she wasn’t surprised, as her mother had been a late ‘winger’ too.)

-Flora’s mother is the Guardian Fairy of Linphea and helps run the Main GreenHouse alongside the Nymph of Linphea and the royal family. Thanks to Alyssa’s job, Flora got to meet and assist all sorts of people from her realm. (Including the witch triplets who went to Cloud Tower; Euphorbia, Ververine, and Gerbera. And Princess Krystal.)

-Rhodos works with a faction of conservationists in Linphea to keep endangered animals (and plants) alive. He mainly works with the magiwolves of Linphea and tries to keep their numbers where they’re supposed to be. And because of his job, he ended up adopting a young magiwolf pup they named Amarok.

- (They weren’t going to keep him… They weren’t. But because he was born a different pigment than his littermates, his mother had abandoned him and… Rhodos couldn’t very well leave him to die. Besides, Amarok is nothing more than an overgrown lapdog. Usually.)

-Miele was born when Flora was about six or seven, give or take a few months. And yes, there was a touch of jealousy when Miele first came home because Flora didn’t understand why her parents weren’t spending as much time with her.

-Her parents were quick to pick up on her anxieties about the new baby and started incorporating Flora into assisting with Miele’s care. (Like reading and playing with her while Alyssa made dinner and helping her toddle around the family’s garden while naming off the plants.)

-Honestly, they grew up close and Flora became like a second mom to Miele. (Which would later turn into a minor annoyance as Miele got older, but that’s fine. They’re working through that.)

-Sibling shenanigans still occurred however, like Miele taking and reading Flora’s diary or Flora planting frogs or bugs into her sister’s room. (Or the Great Baking War that Alyssa refuses to let them live down.)

-Flora’s paternal grandmother, Nana Rose, is close to her family and has been living with them since her husband, Poppop Miden passed away.

-She’s a witch who works at the local clinic, her focus is on potions. (Which she passed on to Flora and has tried to teach her everything she knows about them… And everything she knows on poisons too because sometimes a poison is necessary.)

-And yes, Nana Rose did have hope that at least one of her granddaughters would be a witch, but she’s still proud of them. Wings and all.

-Flora has a hidden angry side. It doesn’t come out much and she does her best not to show it often, but she has a major temper when she does slip and let it out. She will unleash her will into the plant life around her and have it come for whoever pissed her off. Or if she’s really feeling it, she may just go in for a physical attack. The girl can pack a punch. (Granted, this only happens in situations where loved ones are in danger.)

-Flora is the only one from her elementary and middle school friend group that went to a Magix School. Most of her friends went to the Linphean Academy.

-She’s the tallest in her main friend group, standing at 5’7.

-She’s one of the Mom friends in the group, the other being Tecna. (She’s the more empathetic and emotional mom friend. Tecna’s the ‘well you fucked around and found out the hard way’ mom friend.)

-Flora wasn’t too sure about Chatta being her pixie at first, but is beyond grateful for the pixie helping her come out of her shell more.

-They now attempt to have weekly (though it’s sometimes monthly) tea parties to catch up on everything.

-Flora doesn’t really ‘do’ competitive sports often, but leaf surfing is the best thing ever and it’s one of the few sports she’s better at than Layla. (Though she does have the advantage of being Linphean and getting to leaf surf regularly…)

-Flora is a romantic and enjoys the ‘rom-com’ things; walks on the beach, silly moments around the town, dancing in the rain. But that shouldn’t mean she’s not careful with her heart. She’s empathic (as many Linpheans are) and is good at reading people when meeting them. So unless you’ve got a ‘beautiful’ soul, she’s not going to be interested.

-Flora loves that her friends are from such vastly different places because it means she can learn more about the realms from people who actually live there. (And teach her their languages, though she’s only really fluent in Solarian and conversational in the others.)

-She’s a spiritual person, as many from Linphea are. Flora believes that just like plant life, all life is connected by an invisible root system and that life is precious and should be treated with respect. (However, she also recognizes that there are those who have ‘tainted spirits’ and need to be dealt with so they don’t harm others.)

-Flora’s not exactly shy. She’s just shy around new people. But once she gets to know you and considers you a friend, you’ll find she has no problem speaking her mind. (And sending random things to you over the phone because they made her think of you.)

-There’s a misconception that she, and other Linpheans, are vegetarian. That’s not entirely true. Linpheans do eat meat: fish. They don’t have it often, only for certain occasions, but they do eat it.

-Flora also doesn't mind dirt or getting dirty. (But there is a difference in natural dirt and gunk. Okay? And gunk sucks.)

-Flora doesn't swear often, but she has let a few slip out from time to time. Usually in heated or emotional or upsetting moments.

-Her favorite parts of an Linphean holiday are getting to spend time with her family. She loves it when they all get together and enjoy each other.

-Like most Linpheans, Flora is immune to most poisons. She’ll likely feel a touch of nausea or a minor headache when poisoned, but due to her immune system, she’ll be perfectly fine within a few hours.

-Despite the fact she’s usually the one trying to talk the others out of dangerous situations, doesn’t mean she’s actually afraid of them. Sneaking into another school, fighting through a realm of shadow creatures, going toe-to-toe with magical terrorists; those don’t phase her.

-No, her real fear is something a bit more… Relatable. She’s scared of losing her loved ones. The thought of having her magic and being able to do such incredible things, but not being able to save her family or her friends just absolutely shakes her to core. (Especially in her nightmares when she’s forced to watch them die and she can’t do a thing to save them.)

-(Freshman year really fucked her up when they were fighting the Army of Darkness/Decay. There was a moment she thought she’d lost Musa and Tecna and she nearly broke down. Thankfully, the other two fairies managed to recover with a few of Palladium and Ofelia’s healing salves, but it was touch and go.)

-Flora can’t stand bullies. Granted, not many people like bullies or tolerate them, but Flora just can’t stand for someone to pick on anything that can’t fight back. It’s why she’s managed to enchant a few endangered plant species to being able to speak up and fight back against those who want to pick them apart and why she’s always ready to take on the Trix.

-Flora was the one who helped catch Bloom up on some of the most important aspects of the Magical Dimension (or at least the parts that Stella glossed over or that Tecna overexplained to the point of making it sound alien even to Flora). In return, she learned so much about Earth culture… She was stunned.

-(And fell in love with Earth’s versions of disaster movies. She likes to show other Linpheans and be like “see, if we don’t start really helping the other realms with the ecological problems, this will happen here too.”)

-(Bloom may have also gotten Flora hooked on those ‘hidden camera’ shows... It’s a guilty pleasure.)

-Flora’s got a major sweet tooth. Major. Which is fine because the girl is great at baking. (The other girls are always excited to taste test.)

-Flora’s not quite as delicate as others make her out to be. Yes, her hands are soft despite being in dirt and soil 80% of the time (Linphean lotions are awesome), and yes she’s good a giving that gentle touch to her plants, but she’s physically stronger than she appears. She can lift 50 pound bags of fertilizer with little issue. She’s pretty handy with a shovel (and not just for digging, which her poor cousin Marlow found out when a prank went wrong). And she’s not ‘razer thin’. She has decent muscle mass and is a bit on the broad side. Doesn’t make her any less graceful in the air or on the ground.

-In a fight, she tries to be more defensive than offensive because she doesn’t want to get in Bloom, Layla, or Stella’s way. And she finds her spells work better as traps than as an offensive maneuver. That said, if she feels her friends are in extreme danger, she will not hesitate to call on the Plant Life around them for help. (And she’s known for getting physical too, so watch out for that.)

-Aside from Layla, Flora feels a connection to Roxy. The younger girl’s passion about animals makes her think of her father and she does her best to encourage Roxy to use her passion in her magic.

-Bloom introduced Flora to the game Minecraft. For the first time, Flora understands why Tecna gets so involved in her videogames. (Please send help, she may be addicted. But her farm is looking amazing.)

-Flora doesn’t really worry about fashion, preferring to go by what she feels is comfortable, but she has a hard time saying ‘no’ to Stella when the other fairy has ideas. (Which usually turn out to be beautiful and comfortable and really, Flora just has the best friends.)

-Flora enjoys the nights when all six Winx Club girls can just hang out and be normal for a few hours. Sleepovers, Truth or Dare, movies and junk food. She loves it.

-She got close to Mirta while the other girl was a pumpkin, even finding a way to communicate despite the spell. After the spell was broken and during their sophomore year, Flora was one of the students who helped show Mirta around and made sure she was comfortable. They often talk and catch up. (And yes, Flora did have a hand in helping push Mirta and Lucy together. She regrets nothing.)

-Flora has thought about a tattoo. Many people on her realm get them, though it’s not a requirement nor does it give any extra magical benefits. She just doesn’t know what to get and she wants it be special. (All she knows is where she’d put it, over her burn scar from the Wizards.)

-At her time at Alfea (and in her middle school), Flora was part of the Student Council and Eco Club. She did her best to help make her schools a little more ‘green’ and energy proficient. (Tecna was a big help in coming up with a design for more efficient electrical equipment.)

-Out of all the girls, Flora has the hardest time connecting to Musa with convergence. Their personalities and magical abilities tend to clash from time to time, so they need to really strike a feeling of harmony before trying.

-Bloom is the easiest to converge with. They shared a room and often had so many late-night chats that their auras and feelings just naturally come together when needed.

-Out of all the girls, she’s the most likely to continue living on Earth. She finds the realm so fascinating. (It was a magically dead planet that kept on living... Just.... how?)

-Flora’s current goal in life is to start the revival process of other dead realms in the Magical Dimension. She feels that if she and her friends can resurrect Domino, bring ShadowHaunt back to its former glory, and bring magic back to Earth, they should be able to handle bringing others back to life too.

#winx club headcanons #winx club #winx flora #winx club flora #flora la rosa #sweet and pure #spring flower

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