#beewens

[katesharmasheart]

Beewens AU: Engel is not having a good night, her parents are getting a divorce and now she is not sure of anything in her life, not even where she might be living next week. An unexpected (and unflattering) encounter in a bathroom with the new artsy girl Noor will lead to a night to remember for ages, at least that’s how Engel sees it. Would Noor would think the same in the morning?

[bvtter]

for @kieutu​, love, your secret santa 🎄

[noorengels]

336 hours

a social media au inspired by the holiday (2006)

summary: eliott demaury needs a break from his hectic life in paris, whereas engel lallemant yearns to get away from a certain person in her small town near amsterdam. an impulsive decision causes the pair to swap homes for the holidays, ready to escape their problems yet unprepared to encounter the most interesting people they’ll ever meet.

— meet the characters:

multi pov; social media is integrated. i will be posting this fic on ao3 (eponlne) but will keep a masterlist on this blog so you can get the link to the latest chapter from there! i’m really excited for this!

Chapter 1

masterlist

[gucciboner]

Can't stop thinking about Engel and Noor.

[intotheskamverse]

I’ve been blossoming alone over you

@virisbitch requested: Noor x Engel | Pink in the Night by Mitski

It’s in the slope of her cheekbone, just barely in view as she’s turned away, opposite cheek pressed to the pillow. It’s in the freckle on her back just beside her shoulder blade, revealed by the way her racerback tank top falls toward the mattress. It’s in the way her short hair falls against the sheet, exposing her neck, exposing the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, that space that crackles with life, with a warmth and a softness and a promise if only Engel could tuck her chin there. It’s in these details, but it’s also in the way Engel notices them, that she realizes.

Engel used to have these sleepovers with Noor all the time when they were younger, before Noor moved to Belgium for her mother’s job. They slept in this same bed, Engel’s bed, just a few inches apart, time and time again. They fell asleep to the sounds of each other’s breathing, the sounds of the summer showers against the window’s glass, the sounds of each other’s whispers trading secrets. They fell asleep as friends. They don’t fall asleep like that anymore.

It’s four years later now, and Noor is visiting for the summer to put some distance between herself and an ex. During these summer nights, Noor falls asleep first, the hazy glow of a streetlight behind her illuminating the peaks of her body, outlining her silhouette. The light’s warm, somewhere between yellow and orange, but for some reason, in this room, it glows pink. Engel lies awake, hovering in a state of reckoning, seeing these parts of Noor as if for the first time. She knows what Noor’s shoulder feels like against her cheek; she’s rested it there plenty of times, in all kinds of contexts—after shared confessions, when she needs comfort; during a late-night movie watch, when her eyelids start to grow heavy and she can’t quite hold her head up anymore—but never in a context like this. It would feel different, she thinks. She wants it to feel different. But she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to feel it in the way she longs to.

Noor stirs then, and Engel tenses, squeezing her eyes closed. A sharp flash of guilt and fear shoots through her abdomen and tightens her chest. Was Noor awake? Could she sense what Engel was thinking, or feel Engel’s gaze trained on all the pieces of her that she wanted to know differently—to know better? She couldn’t, Engel knows, but that doesn’t calm the rush of panic that cuts off her breath and sends her heart racing.

Noor tosses some more, shifting her weight so the mattress shifts beneath Engel, pulling her more towards the center. Engel stiffens to resist, and she only opens her eyes again once the slow, steady breathing she knows so well convinces her that Noor is still sound asleep. In all of that commotion, Noor had turned to face her, the distance between them cut in half. Engel could brush her nose against Noor’s, if only she let herself fall into the dip in the mattress that cocooned Noor’s body. This close, Engel had no choice but to take her in piece by piece. She couldn’t look at the whole of her even if she wanted to.

There are her eyelashes, fluttering slightly through a dream. Then, the two moles on her cheek, two points in a constellation Engel searches for every night. Her septum piercing, which Engel had only ever seen through Instagram photos before this summer—a reminder of the years they spent apart, of the lives they lived alone. It suited her more than Engel would let herself admit.

There’s also Noor’s pouted lips, stained pink from red lipstick, only a breath away from Engel’s own. They remind Engel of the days those lips were stained pink from popsicles long before the dark red lipstick became her signature. The taste of sugar and smiles and sneaking around. Scents of sunscreen and cherry syrup. Her racing heart and fits of giggles. She remembers one day from their last summer together, just a few days before they both heard the news. They had already eaten far too much sugar for their thirteen-year-old bodies to handle, but Noor had snuck a bag of Strawberry Laces—one of Engel’s favorite candies at the time—from her house and brought it with her to the park where they usually met. Engel couldn’t resist. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the grass, the bag of sweets between them, as Noor unraveled a long strand of the candy and dangled it above her mouth.

“Wait!” Engel exclaimed as she grabbed Noor’s wrist to stop her. “We should do that scene from Lady and the Tramp. Like with the spaghetti.” Her excitement was unabashed.

“Wha-?” Noor pinched her brows together in confusion as she lowered the hand holding the candy, Engel’s fingers still wrapped around her wrist.

“Haven’t you ever seen Lady and the Tramp?” Noor just shook her head. “But have you heard of the kiss? Like where they’re eating different ends of the same noodle without knowing, until their lips touch in the middle?”

Noor gave her a skeptical look. “I’ve never heard of that,” she said with a laugh. It sounded a bit mocking, and suddenly Engel felt very childish.

“Oh. Okay,” she said as she finally released Noor’s wrist. “I just thought it’d be funny.” She turned her face away from Noor then, hoping to hide the embarrassed flush that spread across her cheeks.

“Let’s try it anyway,” Noor encouraged, handing Engel one end of the long candy rope. “I’ll follow what you do.”

So thirteen-year-old Engel placed the end of the sweet between her lips and watched as Noor did the same. They locked eyes and giggled as they slurped their ends farther and farther into their mouths, chewing as they went. It was silly and awkward and Engel felt her cheeks flame, but what surprised her the most was the way her eyes dropped to Noor’s lips and wouldn’t look away, the way her stomach started to twist and flip in ways she hadn’t known it could. She wasn’t sure when to close her eyes as the length of candy between them shortened and shortened and shortened. It wasn’t until the very last second that she saw Noor’s flutter closed, but Engel couldn’t make hers do the same. Their lips touched only for the briefest of moments. Engel’s body warmed and Noor’s eyes shot open. They laughed it off as they laughed off most things, pretending it was nothing, pretending it was something they would have done with any of their friends. Engel didn’t know then that she wouldn’t have done that with just any friend. She didn’t know how to read her body yet. Or she didn’t want to.

They were just kids goofing around, Engel had told herself afterwards as she replayed the kiss over and over again. But then Noor was leaving and she barely said goodbye and they didn’t stay in touch, and Engel wondered if it had been more than an innocent thing, and she worried that she had shattered the thing she and Noor had always shared as soon as their lips brushed against each other’s. She didn’t realize their friendship could be so tenuous.

As Engel recalls that kiss now, she wishes she could try again. Not while Noor is asleep, though. Not like this. She wants to kiss her intentionally, and not as some innocent scene recreation. She wants it to mean something between them, and she wants Noor to kiss her back like she’s missed Engel as much as Engel’s missed her.

Suddenly, Noor’s hand slides between their faces, palm up. Her fingers are loose, relaxed, arm bent at the elbow. Engel knows she can’t, and she’s afraid of “what if,” but it’s calling her, taunting her. Noor’s hand is a Venus flytrap, daring her. She surprises even herself when she accepts. She places her hand gently against Noor’s, sliding it along until it fits perfectly snug, interlacing their fingers and folding hers around Noor’s hand.

Engel expects a quick movement from Noor, a startled reaction, a rush of shame. Instead, Noor’s fingers curl slowly, ever so slowly, closing around Engel’s, holding them in place. They finally seal around Engel’s with a squeeze that ignites something deep in Engel’s abdomen. Noor tucks their joined hands beneath her cheek, murmuring “Engel” with a soft, lazy smile. Engel doesn’t know if that’s Noor’s dream or reality talking, but her cheeks glow with a pink flush at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she’ll get to try again.

[azozzoni]

Beewens au

The downside to being a florist, Engel had decided a long time ago, was that no one ever bothered sending her flowers.

Not the immature boys she had lusted over in high school or even the smart, “mature” men she’d dated after college. Of everyone who came in her shop, picked through the roses and gladioluses and sneered at the poor carnations, no one seemed to think she deserved flowers too.

Today, every corner of her workshop at the back of the store was covered in hydrangeas—perfectly purely white as the bride had very specifically instructed. The bouquets were tied with pale purple ribbon, a pearl pinned at the top of each; the centerpieces an explosion of white with bursts of purple irises carefully placed among the hydrangeas. Engel smiled to herself as she adjusted the petals, careful not to bend any as she set them in their box.

Weddings were her favorite arrangements to make, even if some of the brides occasionally went overboard in their need for perfection. Engel didn’t mind. After all, it was supposed to be the best day of their lives.

Most days were far more ordinary. People came in looking for arrangements to say “I’m sorry” or “I hope you get better.” And sometimes, they came to say “I love you.”

As Engel set the last bouquet in the box, the bell at the front door jingled, quiet over the music playing from the speakers.

Brushing off her hands, Engel headed for the front. It was a bit early for the first apology flowers, but the weekends could be busy.

It wasn’t a man waiting for her when Engel stepped out from the back room, but a woman her age, hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket, dark hair cut sharply to her chin as she tilted her head to the side, seemingly considering a bucket filled with pink peonies.

“Morning,” Engel greeted her, catching the woman’s eye as she turned, light glinting off the ring in her nose. “Can I help you?”

The woman seemed to pause a second before approaching the counter, taking her hands from her pockets to drum her red-painted nails against it.

“I want to get a bouquet of roses,” she said finally, and Engel nodded, watching the way the woman smiled as she caught her looking at the tattoo peeking out under the collar of her shirt.

“Roses?” she repeated, sweeping a piece of hair behind her ear as the woman’s dark eyes rested on her, as though intrigued somehow. There was nothing intriguing about Engel as far as she knew. “Lucky boyfriend.”

“Not exactly.” The woman smiled, and Engel felt a tiny prick of understanding.

Oh.

It wasn’t as though she was surprised. All sorts of people came into the shop. She couldn’t count the number of times Lucas had come trying to woo some new boy with flowers.

“Lucky girlfriend then,” she said swiftly as she pulled out her arrangement book.

The woman smiled again, almost laughing, swinging as she placed her hands back in her pockets.

“Actually, it’s just a friend. She got dumped by some asshole guy, yet again.

“I’m sorry,” Engel said, flipping through the book, looking up when the woman didn’t reply.

The woman shrugged easily, watching Engel, almost softly. “It’s her own fault for having such terrible taste in guys. I just want to cheer her up.”

“That’s sweet,” Engel said. No one ever sent her flowers to cheer her up. Well, she supposed they probably thought she had plenty in her shop. But Engel knew better than anyone that it was the thought that counted.

The woman was still watching her, as though curious, as though interested somehow, as though there was more to this than the photos of roses in the book on the counter. Engel didn’t know why.

“I’ll need your name for the order,” she said after a minute in which neither of them looked at the book. Engel wasn’t sure what it was, an unexpected tingle, but not unease, as the woman held out a hand.

“I’m Noor,” she said, taking Engel’s hand softly.

“Engel,” she replied, smiling slightly as Noor released her hand. Biting her lip, she took a short breath. “So, what color roses were you thinking?”

Glancing at Engel, Noor just smiled as she pulled the book towards her across the counter.

[suusbauwens]

Turn the lights off, I'm in love

Noor x Engel, messy first meeting

[cloudsinmymind]

when i look at the stars I think of you. 💫