#and then walking back to their little party house down the street from their church<3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rrxnjun · 2 years ago

Text

since i saw vienna ;; njm

pairing: na jaemin x fem!reader genre: strangers to friends to not-really-lovers | angst, a hint of fluff, hurt-comfort, coming of age, slice of life wc: 8.7k (8.754) warnings: mention of alcohol abuse, underge drinking, drinking and driving, swearing playlist: since i saw vienna - wilbur soot ; i wish you were sober - conan gray ; footnote - conan gray ; worst - waterparks ; 505 - arctic monkeys ; love is a laserquest - arctic monkeys ; memories - conan gray a/n: i'm fully aware that they would sell alcohol to a 17-year old in vienna but please for the sake of this story, ignore this<3 also i quote the song memories by conan gray (which this fic was pretty much inspired by) a lot in the last part, i hope you don't mind :)

it's been a few weeks since na jaemin last saw vienna. escaping the city for a while didn't mean escaping you completely, though. you show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, making him feel the worst he ever has, because nothing hurts him more than to only be wanted when you're drunk.

September 15th, 2018, 6:21pm – I’ll put down my roots when I’m dead

His eyes travel across the town center, all historical and beautiful, just like he’d seen on the internet. He’d just left the St. Peter’s church, amazed by the Harry Potter-like interior, when the sunlight hits his eyes and makes him squint into the distance.

Na Jaemin is often alone on these trips. No wonder, he’s an introvert– weighing his words and only choosing to speak when he’s with the right people. Only a few really know him, for the sound of his voice is reserved only for the chosen ones, the joyful melody of his laugh only heard when he’s completely relaxed, in the presence of his friends. He doesn’t have many friends, but he finds that he doesn’t even mind that his circle is so small. Small doesn’t always mean that it’s bad– in this instance, he’s glad for the fact that he doesn’t have to keep track of any more unnecessary drama.

He turned 18 a little over a month ago. It was on a hot, august day, and he had a small party with his friends, in the backyard of his house back at home, in Jeonju. Now, it’s September, and even though the sun in Vienna is only a few degrees colder than it was on his birthday, he couldn’t find a better way to start the new school year.

A school trip to Austria is a big deal for a traveler like Jaemin. At night, he dreams of seeing the wonders of the whole world some day. It’s a wild dream, and he knows that, but as long as he is able to, he’s set on doing the most he can, only to make this dream come true.

He’s walking the streets of Vienna alone. Their teachers let all of the students roam around freely for a few hours before they have to come back to the hotel, but Na Jaemin doesn’t have any friends with him right now, because most of them are from different schools and Huang Renjun, the only friend of his that he knows from school, forgot to pay for the trip in time, so the opportunity to enjoy Vienna together was pretty much wasted. Jaemin doesn’t mind, for the most part. He imagines it would be more fun in a pair, but he’s okay with settling for this. He doesn’t mind being alone, after all. The beauty of the city overtakes him enough to not pay attention to anything else.

Suddenly, there’s a voice calling his name from somewhere behind him, making him stop in his tracks and look around.

“Na Jaemin! Na Jaemin!” there’s a shriek, followed by a fit of laughter.

The sight he has in front of him is one that shocks him, for he’s certain that he’s awake, but the person calling his name makes him believe he must be dreaming. In a cute, baby pink bomber jacket, there is you– with pins and patches decorating the fabric of your coat, all of the places you’ve been. Na Jaemin knows you only briefly– again, his circle is small– all he knows is that he adores the pins and patches on your jacket just as much as he adores you.

Somehow, you’ve caught his eye. You’re in the grade below him– only a year younger, but he’s seen you in the halls on most days. Walking around with confidence and some sense of admirable charisma, it’s hard not to notice you and feel pulled towards your presence. You’re loud, cheerful, life of the party. Your smile is contagious and your hair is messy on most days, looking as if you forgot to brush it when you left the house in the morning. Still, when Na Jaemin saw the pin board about the countries of Asia you’ve been to in the school halls, he feels pulled towards your carefree persona. You seem like you’ve got no roots– a wind, dashing through the place and leaving everyone breathless.

Your body marches towards him, seemingly ignoring the shock on his face. A smile decorating your features, a rather innocent one, to be said, you open your mouth and propose a daring request to the boy.

“Na Jaemin. You’re 18 now, right?” you ask, hands firmly clasped behind your back. You look like the class president who speaks about the issues in the class to the teacher– you look reliable and tactful. Your intentions are far from reliable and dandy– Na Jaemin is only about to find out, though.

“Yeah,” he nods, short for words. His responses are often short, but they’re always understandable. That’s what’s admirable about Na Jaemin– he’s a man of few words, but he chooses them carefully, always speaking clearly and straight to the point. He’s well-spoken, for the most part.

“So… me and my friends were wondering…” you start off, trailing at the end of your sentences, “we’ll have to come back to the hotel in a few, since the curfew is at nine, but that’s no fun. And we thought about a better way to spend our evening, but we need your help!” you say, smiling at him with innocence.

Furrowing his brows, Na Jaemin squints at you through the afternoon sun. “What?”

“Well!” you chirp, quite proud of your idea. “We wanted to have a little fun in our hotel room! Me, Ryujin, Jisu, and our mate Hyunjin. You know Hyunjin, right?” you ask, but don’t leave him space to reply as you ramble on and on about your masterplan, “so, we wanted to get some booze and hang out in our room.”

Blinking slowly at you, Jaemin tries hard to regain his composure. He’s not sure if he’s a bit slow, or something, or if it’s your magnetic presence that is keeping his head too busy to understand basic sentences, but he can’t quite comprehend your point.

“Yeah… and?” he asks, not getting it.

“And… neither of us is 18 yet, so we kind of need your help,” you mumble, “would you maybe… buy some alcohol for us? They won’t sell us any of the harder stuff, so we really need a reliable adult by our side,” you giggle, winking at him.

Redness fills his cheeks, but he tries to convince himself it’s the hot sun shining down at his head the whole day that’s making him a little over-heated at this point. “U-uh… I don’t know about that…”

“Come ooon!” you mourn out, a pout now sitting at your lips. It’s an expression you pull whenever you really want something, and Na Jaemin has figured it out by innocently eavesdropping on your conversations in the halls (not his fault you’re so loud when you talk), but still, he can’t find himself being the first one to not do what you desire. It’s you, after all– you have everyone and everything under your spell, wrapped tightly around your finger. It’s inevitable.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking. You’re underage, after all, and this is a school trip-”

“Jaemin, don’t be a party popper! Loosen up a bit! Besides, you’re invited to hang out with us. You’ve been alone the whole time, it looks like you need some company,” you say. Now, to Jaemin, this does sound a bit like manipulation. He recognises that.

Still, again, he’s not God’s strongest soldier. And with how you’re batting your eyelashes at him, with that adorable puppy-like expression, he doesn’t seem to find it in himself to say no to you. Because, the true question is; has anyone ever said no to you?

“O-Okay then,” he mutters, mentally slapping himself for nervously stuttering.

This might be the first time Na Jaemin has ever broken the rules. Walking into the closest supermarket with you and your friends, he realizes one crucial thing–

he doesn’t even like alcohol in the first place.

September 15th, 2018, 9:21pm – It was me or whiskey, now you're pissed I wasn't bluffing

Walking along the hotel halls, taking the quietest steps he physically can, he moves closer to room number 505. You scribbled the number on the back of his hand with black sharpie, insisting, so he ‘doesn’t forget’. Like he could ever forget a single word that ever came out of your mouth…

The doors are all closed, professors already tucked in their room at the very end of the hall. It must be hard to look after so many kids on a school trip, so he can only imagine how tired they are after the whole day. Surely, they’ll be too tired to come and check if everyone’s in their rooms, right? He has nothing to be afraid of…

Standing in front of the door with the number corresponding to the one on the back of his hand, he scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath in. Does he really want to do this? He did what you asked him for– bought you three bottles of the finest whiskey in the small supermarket, all with your money. Your friends were loud, giggling and laughing as he got ID’d, but the whole operation went successfully. Now, he can just let it all go and go back to his room and sleep. You’re leaving tomorrow at noon, so it’s not a good idea to be tired and hungover the next morning…

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he thinks that it would be embarrassing to go back to his room now. Nobody saw him, but still. His mind would probably be ashamed of its own actions. And when he thinks of your face, so cheerful and thankful when he pressed the bottles into your hands when you left the store, he once again finds it hard to say no to you. It might have just been a pity invitation, only done for the sake of him being your supplier, but still. He might as well have some exciting stories to tell to his friends when he gets back.

Lifting his hand, he knocks at the door. Everything goes silent for a second– the low mumbling and laughter coming from the inside of the room stilling, all of you now probably cautious about the visitor, before the door opens with a swing and you’re standing in the door frame in gray pajama bottoms and a white, oversized t-shirt.

“It’s Na Jaemin!” you squeak out, eyes already a little glossy and your persona more speedy and excited than ever before. Jaemin doesn’t think he’s ever heard his name being called with more excitement, and it flatters him a bit, but he figures that you must have already drank some alcohol, and it’s only the effect the liquor has on you, and not himself.

Tugging him into the room by a swift swing of his hand, Na Jaemin finds himself in a small room, identical to the one he abandoned only a few minutes ago. The only difference is the amount of beds and the amount of people in the small space– he only has one bed, but you have three. He stays in his hotel room alone, but there’s five of you there right now. Hyunjin clearly doesn’t share a room with you and your girlfriends– and neither does Jaemin– for it’s kind of prohibited on school trips, and understandably so.

Looking around the room, he’s met with an unusual sight: your friends Ryujin and Jisu dancing on one of the beds, the music so loud Jaemin wonders how he didn’t hear it through the door, and your other friend Hyunjin sprawled out on the other bed, seemingly half-asleep.

Eyes finding you, standing in front of him with a different kind of glint in your eyes, you offer him a bottle of the whiskey he bought for you just a few hours ago, a grin flashing at him with much excitement that you’re failing to hide.

“Have some,” you say, hips swinging to the music. Jaemin recognises the tunes of the 2011 hits he used to listen to on the radio with his friend Jeno when they were little and his mum was driving them to football practice every other afternoon. It’s a weird sense of nostalgia, the fact that his childhood is now long gone, and the sight of you offering him alcohol only makes the fact more prominent in his mind.

“No, thanks,” he shakes his head, “I don’t drink.”

“Come ooon! Do I really have to convince you into everything?” you giggle, pouting. It seems like you know that this expression is your strongest weapon, and Jaemin is left with no way to fight back.

Staring at the bottle in your hand, he wonders– what’s the worst thing that could really happen, right? He’s 18 now. He’s allowed to drink.

Taking it from your hands, he puts it against his lips and takes a swig. The liquor stings in his throat, the taste so unfamiliar and strange that it makes him scrunch up his whole face in disgust, yet, it doesn’t hold you back from smiling at him and putting your thumbs up in approval.

“See? Not that bad,” you say, walking over to the bluetooth speaker sitting on your bedside table, turning the volume up on the familiar latin song he’s sure he’s heard at least a thousand times now.

Taking long steps towards him, your hands find their way around his neck, your hips swinging to the rhythm. “Dance with me!”

His body is kind of stiff, his mind kind of hazy and the yellow light shining in his eyes makes his head hurt just the tiniest bit, but again, Na Jaemin doesn’t seem to find it in him to disagree with anything you have to say to him. You have that effect on him. It’s not his fault he can’t battle it.

And to numb his running mind just a bit, he takes another sip of the alcohol, and another one, and… another one. On a trip to Vienna, freshly 18 and a little lonely, Na Jaemin gets drunk for the first time, dancing with you in your hotel room. And after a few sips, he even finds the courage to put the bottle down on the floor next to your bed and set his hands onto your waist, pulling you a little closer with each song playing from your thoughtfully crafted party playlist.

Na Jaemin is only 18 when he falls from you. Who knows if he would’ve stepped inside your hotel room if he knew what was coming next with you and him.

October 31st, 2020, 11:36pm – real sweet, but I wish you were sober

“Oooh, Jaemin!!” the teasing voice of a certain black-haired girl flows into his ears, making him roll his eyes and chuckle. The catwoman costume Shin Ryujin is wearing is definitely getting to her, with how she slyly walks around the place and ironically growls at her friends with that teasing smirk of hers. “Didn’t know you’d go all out on Halloween!”

Looking down at his costume, Jaemin furrows his brows. He really didn’t put much effort into what he’s wearing– he’s in all black and the only thing distinguishing his ordinary party outfits from the one he’s wearing today is the red cloak he borrowed from his friend Jisung and the fake blood he bought with Jeno on sale last year, three weeks after Halloween, now dripping from the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t even have fangs– they were sold out everywhere when he tried to look for them last minute.

“I didn’t,” he mutters, following the girl with his eyes as she shrugs and escapes the kitchen, happy giggles following her departure.

Parties aren’t really Jaemin’s favorite places to be. The music is too loud, the place is too crowded, and his friends are much more sociable than he is, so he’s mostly left alone, in the corners of the rooms. He got an exclusive invitation from you, though, promising you’d drive him to the party on your new car you got for your nineteenth birthday– a white Range Rover with comfortable seats and too much room in the back. And even after two years of knowing you, he still can’t say no to whatever you ask him for.

That’s why he’s here, in Lee Donghyuck’s rented house, roaming the kitchen for something non-alcoholic to drink. Much hasn’t changed in two years, to be honest– he still absolutely despises the taste of alcohol, and it still makes him too touchy and sleepy to function normally. He doesn’t like the change in his personality when he drinks, so he mostly chooses not to do so for the sake of his own comfort.

The electronic party music is resonating all through the walls of the house, making his ears ring with the intensity of decibels. You told him you’re only going to the bathroom and that you’ll be back in a few seconds, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s been an hour and a half of him waiting for you in the spot you left him in, and you’re still nowhere to be seen. That’s the typical you– promises are rarely kept with you. He doesn’t blame you for this one, though– you’re at a party, after all, and you have plenty of friends. He can only imagine that you met some on your way back and decided to catch up with them, too busy to come back to your boring introvert.

Taking a sip of the Coca-cola from one of the red cups, he feels momentarily at ease. The sugar makes him feel better, for he thought he was going to pass out any minute from how bad the air is in the crowded house. Looking around, he wonders if he can take a seat at the dining table, because he doesn’t really feel like joining the crowd, when his train of thought is cut off by a scream of his name.

“Jaemin!” he hears, the voice of Hwang Hyunjin piercing through his eardrums. “Jaemin!”

“Yeah?” he asks, coming closer to the tall boy, raising his eyebrows in question. “What’s up?”

The tone Hyunjin used to look for his friend is a hurried one. It makes Jaemin feel alert– it seems like something went wrong and he’s now called to fix everything. It happens a lot with his new friend group (not that he abandoned his old one, no. He just adapted himself into a new one as well), since they’re quite the wild crowd. He’s always the caring and responsible adult that makes everything okay again when shit goes down.

“Y/N…”

Heart thumping at the mention of your name, Jaemin is set into a three-second-long panic attack. He’s quite sensitive when it comes to you, and he gets teased about it often, but he figures that there’s nothing he can really do about it now, after two years. A silly crush is a silly crush, but however hard he tries, he can’t seem to get over it even after all this time of being your friend and knowing you all and throughout. It’s quite weird, from a stranger’s perspective, but to him, it makes perfect sense.

“What happened?”

“She got too drunk again. Think you can take her home?” he asks, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’d do it, but I had beer a minute ago, so I can’t drive right now.”

Sighing, Jaemin’s heart sinks into his stomach. Shrugging, he admits the disappointment in his insides, because this is how it always ends– with you drunk off your face and him taking care of you, because you’re like a baby, and even though he’d do anything for you, it’s starting to tire him out. Nonetheless, he nods.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good. She’s sitting at the front porch with Ryujin, she has the keys. Thanks, man.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin chuckles, “it’s alright.”

Downing the last drop of the Cola he had in his cup, he moves to the front door, ready to take his role of a caregiver. Opening it and dragging his feet across the porch, he’s met with the sight worthy of a comic– a catwoman and Hulk sitting at the front porch, the green figure with their head on their knees and hands in their hair. You insisted on being Hulk for Halloween this year, and even though Jaemin has never seen a Marvel movie in his life, he thinks it’s quite fitting, yet, he doesn’t even know why.

“Everything alright?” he asks, locking eyes with Ryujin.

“Yeah! Thanks for taking her home, she was getting insufferable,” the black-haired girl laughs, offering him the keys to your car. “Drive safely!”

“Yeah,” he nods, “have fun…” he trails off as he watches the girl get back into the house, ready to enjoy Halloween.

Why can’t Jaemin enjoy the party too? Why is he always the one taking care of you?

Sighing, he taps you on your shoulder, waking you up from your slumber. When your eyes meet his, you smile at him with a very well known spark in your eyes. “Time to go home?”

Nodding, Jaemin supports your weight as you slide into his side, walking you to the passenger seat of your own car. He doesn’t know why he expected you to stay sober the whole night, considering that you were the one driving you two there, but he thinks it’s a valid expectation to have, isn’t it? What a shame he’s let down every single time.

“Why do you always have to get so drunk?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Humming, seemingly thinking about it, you shrug. “Guess it’s in my genes.”

He doesn’t ask more. Maybe it’s not his place to talk, after all. You’re just his friend, and that’s all you two will ever be. So he will just do his friend duty and drive you home. After, he’ll walk to his place, because he doesn’t think it’s fitting of him to borrow your car, and then, he’ll try to sleep without a single thought in his head about you. Might be a hard plan, but he’s set on achieving it.

When he stops in front of your house, turning off the engine and pulling the hand brake so the car doesn’t ride off the small hill you live on, you turn to him with stars in your eyes and weird haziness in your mind.

“Jaemin?”

“Yes, Y/N?” he asks, pulling the key out of the starting.

You stay quiet, making him concerned. Looking at you, he finds you staring somewhere off into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. Worried because of the solemn look on your face, Jaemin gently taps your knee, getting your attention.

“What did you want to say?” he asks.

Flattering your eyelashes at him, as if to clear your head and get your thoughts straight, you shake your head and giggle. “Nothing.”

And in a swift motion, so fast he misses it, so quick he has no time to stop you, you lean in and kiss him. Your lips taste of cheap liquor mixed with beer and your hair smells of cigarette smoke He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t kiss you back either. He’s frozen in his place, too shocked to do anything else.

Pulling away from him, you grin wider. “I really like you.”

And with that, you escape the car, feet stumbling into the house. He watches you for a while, making sure you get inside safely, sitting in the car until the light in your room turns on and you plop your head into the window with dark circles under your eyes. You wave at him, your motions so big and over-exaggerated he worries you’ll make something fall over with your arm.

Staring at you, he feels his heart swell, a feeling so strong and foreign he almost starts to hate it. With hazy thoughts and hesitant feelings, the only thing he can think of is how sweet you look, how pretty and lovable you look in that window.

Walking out of the car, locking it and keeping the keys in the pocket of his army-green jacket he’s had since sixteen, he figures he’ll take the long way home to clear his head.

Sometimes, and in moments like these, twice as much, he wishes you were sober.

November 11th, 2021, 9:11pm – knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow

Na Jaemin is 21 years old when he gets his first apartment. Living alone is not much different to living with his parents, if he’s being completely honest, since he always used to help around the house and even do his laundry (Ryujin and Jisu always told him they can’t believe he doesn’t have an older sister, with how well he was raised), and he’s an only child, so the house always used to be quiet anyway, but he adores having his own space.

He decorated the flat with what was most dear to his heart– posters from his favorite movies, CD’s of his favorite bands stacked into tall shelves and pictures he’s taken of his friends and while traveling stuck to the wall in his bedroom. The whole apartment feels like him; there are hints of his presence everywhere, easy to be seen by even a stranger’s eye.

Opening the door for you after the doorbell rings, Jaemin is met with your smiling face. He’s grown familiar with the way your lips tug upwards by now, the expression already making him feel all mushy on his insides. It’s not something he got used to, since seeing you in his life is not something he likes to take for granted, but it’s something that he knows, something he involuntarily ties to home, to a feeling of safety and love.

“Hi!” you greet, the loudness of your voice still the same as when you were seventeen. Hugging you around the waist, Jaemin brings you inside and closes the door after you, a tight smile, a rather proud one, to say the least, decorating his face.

“Welcome to my home!” he says, excitement shining through every crack of his body, an aura so bright around him you’d think he was living his happiest moment of his life.

Squealing together in unison, joy seeping through your bodies, Jaemin walks you around the flat. You’re the first of his friends that he’s invited to his new home– his guy friends were all busy this week and he thought it would only be right to let you be the first one of your friend group, since he’s closest to you, after all. Besides, he hasn’t been alone with you in a while, and he quite misses the way time flies when he’s by your side, so Hyunjin, Ryujin and Jisu can wait a few more days before they see the beauty of his sunny apartment for the first time in person.

“It’s so pretty here! I love it so much, oh my god!” you squeal, hands flying around your head in a winning motion, too excited to keep your emotions in and control your body.

“Isn’t it? The view is awesome when it gets dark outside, since you can see all the lights from the apartments outside,” Jaemin says, surprised by the way his flat stays illuminated even in the darkest nights, not used to the center of the city, since he’s always lived in the suburbs with his parents. The small flat he lives in right now is different from the cozy house he grew up in, but he welcomes the change with open arms. It’s nice to have something new in your life from time to time.

“That’s so great,” you get out in awe, mouth open agape and amazement written all over your features. It seems like you’re at a loss for words, speechless from seeing your friend’s life move forward with such force into adulting.

Jaemin finds himself imagining you in his flat, moving in. Somehow, that’s what’s running through his mind when you twirl around in the place in front of the full-length window, a happy giggle escaping your lips. He finds himself wondering if you’ll ever be his, truly his, after all these years– if he can start leaving space for your clothes in his closet and a spare toothbrush for you in his bathroom. It’s not like you two are together, though.

It’s not like that at all, and Jaemin should stop imagining such things, because these moments, the seconds he spends thinking of you moving in, staying in his arms, only lead to heartbreak.

You only see him as a friend. And so what if you kiss him every time you’re drunk? So what if you hold him close, let him truly in whenever you’re intoxicated? Those moments mean nothing to you, so it seems, even though to Jaemin, they mean everything. It’s a sad realization, one that always brings him down to his knees, but it’s the one he had to accept and learn to live with. He can never have you. Not fully.

“Wanna see my bedroom?” Jaemin perks up, breaking himself out of his thoughts. When you give him a nod, he only turns around and enters the small place, expecting you to follow him. The room is bright white, with dark wooden floor and a big window on the wall opposite of the bed. There’s not much space for anything else, but there’s also a big closet and a table, a place where Jaemin does most of his homework for university. It’s not much, but it’s enough for him.

As soon as your eyes meet the big bed in the corner of the room, you do the expected– you run up to it and jump, testing if it’s as comfy as the one he had in his parents’ house. With the grunt you get out of your throat, he assumes that you like the softness of the mattress and the smell of the bedsheets he only put on this morning, smiling to himself.

Laying next to you, he joins you in the comfortable silence. After a while, there’s a shuffling from the right side of his body, and he looks at you from the corner of his eye to see your figure sprawled out on your side, eyes locking with his.

Following your actions, you two are now staring at each other. Sometimes, when Jaemin stares hard enough, he can see specks swirling in your eyes, a whole galaxy of thoughts and emotions mirroring in your magical orbs. He knows your face by memory now, the placement of your freckles on your nose and the curve of your nose imprinted into his mind forever, a sight he always likes to see and study so hard he can never get it out of his head.

“What are you staring at?” he teases, grinning.

Shrugging, you slightly squint your eyes at him, a smile glazing your soft lips. “You.”

“Why?”

Eyes a little glossy now, you scan his features for a heartbeat, a while that feels twice as long as it is in its true reality. Na Jaemin learned long ago not to rush anything, and not to rush you either. He gives you space to collect your thoughts, not pushing for an answer, however hard he wants to hear it. He’s a patient man. Many admire this quality.

“Because I like you,” you say, a grin following, brightening up your whole face.

He feels heat in his cheeks, a stupid smile slowly inching towards his lips. Shaking his head in disbelief, he snickers. “No, you don’t.”

And he believes his words. Because in reality, this is how the story always goes. You don’t like him. You never once hinted at it when you’re sober, instead ignoring his words every time he tries to talk to you about what happened when you were under the influence again. Some days, he tries to stop you. Some days, he can't help himself. He used to blame himself for not controlling his urges, but he soon realized he can’t blame himself for your choices. You were the one drinking, even when he repeatedly asked you not to.

It never went further than a kiss, maybe a love bite carefully crafted on his neck. Not once did it turn sexual, and that’s the only thing he keeps holding on to so he doesn’t lose his mind. You don’t like him– you’re just bored.

“I do,” you say, though, firm and sure.

“No,” he shakes his head again, “you don’t, Y/N. And we both know that,” he smiles, a gesture meant to show you that it’s okay to come clear right now, to tell him it was only a sentence said in the heat of the moment, an idyllic scene cut-out from a coming-of-age movie.

Pouting, you glare at him. If he didn’t know you better, he could even believe you in this very moment. Your expressions are clear and for all he knows, you seem to be genuine. Something inside of him is telling him to not get happy too soon– call it an intuition, if you might.

“I do,” you say, “I like you, Na Jaemin.” you smile, giggling to yourself.

Inching closer to him, a sight he’s familiar with over the past year, your noses almost touch as you test the waters and slightly brush your lips against his, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. The closeness of your body never fails to make him heaten, just the sheer fact that you’re alive and in his personal space making the relaxed boy panic on the inside.

You kiss his lips, sealing your confession, the motion slow and still. Jaemin would almost call it tender, the happiest moment of his life, even– the moment he’s been waiting for his whole teenage years. The way you move against him is like magic to him, numbing his senses, yet, there’s still something that wakes him up from the lovesick slumber, a pang in his chest, a disappointment growing from somewhere deep within his gut.

Breaking away from you, he stares at you, lips swollen, but eyes glossy with disappointment.

“You drove here, right?” he asks, seeing you furrow your brows in confusion.

“I did.”

“Like this?” he asks, just to seal his interrogation.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes searching his face, trying to find what’s wrong.

He suddenly feels stupid, oh so stupid when he backs away from you, sitting on the bed and putting his head into his hands. The truth is, he should have known when you got so close to him, for kissing him is something he only gets to experience when you’re at your lowest, but from how long he’s known you, he should’ve seen it when he first opened the door for you a few minutes ago.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, concerned.

Still feeling the taste of liquor on his tongue, Jaemin doesn’t find it in him to battle you, to try to teach you the lesson he’s been trying to get into your head since you were seventeen.

“You’re ridiculous,” he snaps.

December 21st, 2021, 8:24pm – it’s been sixty weeks since I saw Vienna

Snow slowly falls to the ground, snowflakes silently melting into the pavement. When the ground is finally cold enough to keep the snow afloat, the whole center turns into a white, beautiful sight. It’s winter in Austria, and it’s a cold one as well. Na Jaemin can hardly feel his toes in the thin shoes he brought with himself, naively thinking it won’t snow on his trip to Vienna.

It’s his last day before he has to fly back to Korea for Christmas. He last saw this town three years ago, and just like back then, he walks the streets of the historical beauty, captivated and amazed with the architecture and the feelings it makes him feel. The first time he visited, it was only in the early stages of autumn– the heated sun glazed his features and let him go home at least a little sunkissed from how exposed he was to it in his daily walks around the town. Now, it’s winter, and it all has a different mood to it.

The Christmas decorations hung around the city make him feel strangely lonely. It’s not like he’s spending his Christmas alone, he has his family, after all, but something about the joy and carelessness of this holiday always makes his stomach twist in anxiety. He never liked it, and somehow, he thinks he never will. The magic of it all has gone away a long time ago.

Taking out his camera from his backpack, he takes a few pictures of the city. He only has a few from when he went for the first time, but they can never get close to the ones he took just a minute ago, with snow falling off in the distance and lights glimmering around the town.

He thinks that this is what he was called to do– to explore everything, even though this is his second time, to travel the world and see everything it has to offer. He’s somewhat disappointed in himself that he’s not following his dream anymore, but life has different plans and Jaemin had to grow up and think of things realistically.

You can’t travel the world when you’re only a mere university student. The part-time job he’s been hidden in, working every hour he could, doesn’t make him even remotely enough to have the funds to end his old life in Korea and start exploring the other continents. It took him months to save enough money to come to Vienna again– money he will never get back, but he’s sure it was worth it, for he thinks his soul called for this town over and over again, reminiscing of all the years he’s lost and all the pain he could’ve saved himself from, only if he acted differently the first time he went.

Sadly smiling to himself, his feet take him back to his hotel. The walk is long, because the hotel is not in the center of the town– to no one’s surprise, since the ones further away are cheaper. The evening is slowly coming to a halt, the day coming to an end, reminding him of the flight he has to take tomorrow and the town he has to leave now. Paying his last goodbye, he lets a stray snowflake fall onto the palm of his outstretched hand, observing the small miracle, promising himself to come back when he can.

Opening the glass door of the small hotel, hearing the ring of the door, the nice lady at the reception greets him with a melodic “Guten Abend” he can only bow to with a polite smile before he disappears into the familiar red halls, searching for the room he will sleep in for the last time this trip.

The white walls of his small hotel room greet him, the smell of laundry detergent flowing around the air reminding him of home. He wonders if the people working here think he’s lonely, but he battles the thought away before it eats him up too much. He’s always been content alone– and he won’t start feeling bad about himself after this many years.

Taking off his shoes and slipping into pajamas, promising himself that he’ll shower the first thing in the morning, he falls into the cheap bed and watches the room in front of him.

It’s been three years since he slept inside of this hotel room, and nothing much has changed.

Falling asleep, he wonders if he’ll ever escape you. Even a thousand miles away, in the city he decided to visit just so he won’t have to see your face for a while, Jaemin sees the ghosts of you two right in front of him, swaying to the 2011 music blasting through your cheap bluetooth speaker.

And the last thought he has before he drifts away, besides the image of your smiling face, is the thought that maybe, he shouldn’t have bought you alcohol back then, all those years ago. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe you wouldn’t go down your father’s path, drinking away your problems and sitting behind the wheel a few minutes after, maybe you would’ve spent your life without Na Jaemin in it and kissing him when your mind is hazy, but you’d be more safe nevertheless. And that’s what he wants for you, after all, so it would be okay for him in the end.

It’s not his fault, but he still feels guilty. Knowing what he knows now would’ve definitely stopped him back then.

February 2nd, 2021, 11:45pm – you're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position, too busy playing the victim to be listening to me

Raindrops falling onto the window of his living room, Jaemin watches the world from his position on the sofa. The flat he’s been living in has become ordinary for him. Nothing really excites him about it anymore, for he knows each and every crevice of it, his nose is used to the smell of it when he comes inside after a long day and his eyes are no longer needed when he travels through it in the late hours of the night– he knows it all and throughout, every square inch of it, from top to bottom, engraved into his mind.

The day slowly seeks into the night, and he doesn’t remember when the last time he moved was. Everything feels like it’s sped up, life flowing around him and he’s only watching it, sitting still, as if it wasn’t even real. He doesn’t know when and why he started to feel like this. Perhaps the lack of you in his life, the one constant thing flowing around him and making him breathe in oxygen, is the reason why now, he feels like nothing really matters in the first place.

What wakes him up from his slumber is a knock on the door, followed by a loud strike of thunder illuminating his living room for just a mere second. Startled, he searches through his mind, trying to remember if he invited someone over. With confusion spiraling through his fingertips, he reaches for the door handle and opens it, allowing the visitor to see him in his full glory.

Standing there, he sees your figure. For just a minute, he thinks he’s hallucinating. He hasn’t seen you in forever– his trip to Vienna was like the last goodbye to you, trying to take you out of his mind forever. The thing is, he wishes you would stay in his memories. Tucked away from his mind, forever forgotten. You are the only thing that always makes him weak, a person that always makes him cave in and beg for them again and again, fulfilled with promises that are always bound to be broken and leaving him feeling emptier than before. Maybe it’s not even your fault. Maybe it’s the way it’s fixed in your brain, a thing he can’t change, a thing you can’t change either.

But at the end of the day, you don’t fit in to what he wanted– to what he needed. You always left him wanting more, but you never really acted on the things you said you wanted when you were drunk. And that hurt him twice as much as anything else ever could.

He can’t turn down a wet dog, though. Your face looks broken, resembling a shattered porcelain vase, eyes sad and water dripping from the tip of your nose. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, not saying a word, Jaemin steps aside and allows you to enter his apartment.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he closes the door behind you and follows you. Seeing you stumble over your own legs, he breathes in heavily, already knowing where this evening is going to lead.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, sinking into the fabric of his coach. He almost scolds you and tells you that your clothes are wet and that he doesn’t want you to damage the furniture, but he stops himself and just shakes his head in disappointment, cracking his knuckles in both nervousness and hopelessness.

“Do you want a glass of water?” he asks, seeing your big eyes glance up at him and nod. You look almost innocent in this position, but he knows you better. Nodding to himself, he takes the few steps that are between him and the kitchen and reaches for a glass from the cupboard, turning the tap on and filling it for you.

Turning around to escape the small room, he finds you behind him, your body swinging just the slightest in its place, trying to keep balance. Your fingers softly grip around his when he offers you the glass, and Jaemin hates to realize it still brings him the same emotions as the touch of your hand on his did all those months, hell, years ago.

Your hand trembles as you put the glass against your lips and sip on the liquid, the silence in the room providing a lingering shadow of intimacy over the two of you.

“Is everything okay?” he repeats his question.

“I miss you,” you mourn, putting the glass back into his hand.

As soon as he turns around and puts the glass onto the kitchen counter, glancing back at you, he sees you slide down the furniture and put your head onto your knees; as soon as he sees you sitting on his kitchen floor, a scowl sitting on your face, he knows that this is exactly how the story between the two of you always goes, and this time, it will, again, stay the same and there’s no reason in make believing that you two could ever exist together.

“Do you want to sleep it out at my place? I can drive you home in the morning when the weather’s nicer,” Jaemin says, looking at you from above.

Shaking your head, urgency slipping down your tongue, you talk to him. “I wanna talk it out. I miss you and I don’t wanna see you leave me alone again.”

Watching you, hearing the tone of your voice, Jaemin feels like every word is a stab into his stomach, a twist of a knife in his gut, cutting him open. He’s been hurt, countless times, even, but to hear that you were the one hurt by his words as well, was a shock that made him weak in his knees and sick to his stomach.

“That’s the best for us, though, Y/N,” he explains.

“No,” you refuse, shaking your head again.

Sighing, he moves to the kitchen table, sliding the chair closer to your body sitting on the floor and nestling in the place opposite of you. His heart urges him to hold your hand, to pet your head and make you feel okay again, but his brain wins and tells him it’s the best to stay away.

“It’s not good for us to be around each other.”

“Why? We used to be friends,” you mumble, confused. It’s not clear to Jaemin if you realize the weight of your words. The alcohol he can smell from your breath is very clearly messing with the way you think, but it’s still unclear to him if you know just how much the acts of affection meant to him.

“Yeah, but…” he mumbles, “friends don’t do the things you do when you’re drunk.”

You glance up to him, batting your eyelashes. A look settles onto your face, one that is full of realization, maybe even a silent understatement, you nod. “Oh,” you mumble, “I… I didn’t realize you didn’t like it.”

Chuckling to himself, Jaemin curses in his mind. Shaking his head in disapproval, he sighs. “It’s not that. I did like it, it’s just…” words don’t come easy to him in a situation like this, “we can’t be friends if you keep doing that, you know. Screw it- we can’t be friends at all, actually. Because- because I want to be more and you don’t, and that hurts me, because then, we can’t be friends,” he says, counting on his fingers, “we can’t be lovers,” he adds his middle finger, “and I for sure don’t want neither of us to be the reason we hold back each other from moving on,” completing, he adds the last finger, counting all the reasons why you two don’t seem to work with each other.

Watching him, you scrunch up your eyebrows, pointing a dumbfounded look at him. “But I want you.”

Jaemin sighs, once again– because he can’t seem to stop feeling the tiniest bit disappointed whenever you show up intoxicated, chuckling to himself. “It doesn’t count when you’re drunk.”

“But-”

“You can’t decide to want me only when you’re drunk, Y/N. Life doesn’t work that way. You either love me, or you don’t. You either want me, all of me, at all times, or you don’t. It’s as simple as that, and if you’re not willing to see that, then I really don’t understand why you’re wasting your time here.”

“You don’t understand!” you mourn out, face scrunching up with despair.

Seeing you cry is a sight Na Jaemin hates the most of them all. The image of your eyes filling with water and your breathing catching in your throat feels like torture, every single tear falling from your eyes just threathening to make him change his mind and cave in again.

“You don’t understand that- that I can’t help it. I- I tried, but it’s just- I can’t help it, Jaemin!” you stumble over your words, cries erupting from your insides.

He doesn’t know how, but you’re suddenly the victim, and he wants to protect you, make you feel safe. He curses at the way he’s caught up in you. Nothing you say or do is able to make him hate you– and that’s the funny thing about it all, isn’t it? He knows it’s pointless, but somehow, he’s still willing to try over and over again, give you hope and watch you crumble it in between your fingers, the way you crush him every single time he thinks it’s going somewhere else than where it always does.

“You have to stop drinking, Y/N,” he says, “you have to stop.”

Wiping your tears to the sleeve of your hoodie, you don’t reply to him verbally,

but when his figure moves and he picks you up from the ground, carrying you to his bedroom just to settle you into his bed and make you sleep it out so you two can talk it out in the morning, you body replies instead; it crawls into him, arms tugging around his neck, nose muffled into the fabric of his shirt.

The way he handles you with care, the way he never fails to make you feel safe in his arms, the way your heart always feels at peace whenever he’s the one holding it in the palms of his hands, all of this always reminds you of the feeling you always read about in the books you were given as a child.

Perhaps Na Jaemin is your knight in shining armor, always keeping you safe.

“Sleep it out, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

This time, you don’t do anything dumb. You don’t throw yourself at him, you don’t beg him to stay with you when he escapes the room and goes to sleep on the sofa. You patiently wait for sleep to get you, closing your eyes and promising yourself to be more smart about everything in the morning.

And as Jaemin sighs to himself and throws the spare blanket over his tired body, he thinks that perhaps, he can never escape you. Perhaps, the pain is worth it in the end.

Because at the end of the day, you said you were trying– and he can see it in your eyes, in the tired orbs examining his stern face, he can see it in the way you talk with hurriedness, as if you were scared he’s not gonna be there for you to lean on, too afraid of falling on your own and shattering completely.

Everyone needs someone to help them up when things get hard.

And even though it hurts him sometimes, Jaemin promises himself to stay by your side until you’re better,

and after that, maybe even forever.

#nct #nct dream #na jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin scenario #jaemin fic #jaemin drabble #jaemin fanfic #nct x reader #nct angst #nct fluff #nct dream x reader #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic

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wistfulrat · 4 years ago

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a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. -

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. - other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK. - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys. -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss. -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry fic rec #drarry fic #soft drarry #OK FINE I RAMBLED BUT WHAT DID WE EXPECT #alexa play futile devices

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klarolinelibrary · 4 years ago

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Hi KC Readers,

We have reached the end of the week which means we have new weekly releases for you! The stories below were updated during the week of May 1st - May 7th.

Happy Reading!

FFN

Gods on High

Author: slstmaraudersjple

Rating: K+

Length: 1,257

Summary: "In ancient times, they called her Hera. But when she was born, she was named Caroline." Greek mythology AU featuring Klaus and Caroline as Zeus and Hera.

Date of update: May 1 2021

Klaus POV - The Trouble with Spells (Chapter 23)

Author: ilovetf

Rating: M

Length: 91,722

Summary: The Trouble with Spells as seen through Klaus's eyes and his POV. Over the years, people kept liking this story and some even asked for Klaus POV, so I decided to give it a try.

Date of update: May 2 2021

Cinderella's Beast (Chapter 15)

Author: Sci-fi Christian

Rating: T

Length: 59,065

Summary: He was a beast. An arrogant beast who carried his comments a little too far one day. Now, he may just discover that she is not what she seems. She's a Cinderella in disguise and his heart is the glass slipper she may leave behind.

Date of update: May 2 2021

Fortitude (Chapter 8)

Author: G.M.Portraepic

Rating: M

Length: 15,256

Summary: Post TO 5x13: Even in his death, the key to Klaus Mikaelson having everything he has ever wanted, all at once, lies buried somewhere in the world. Can Caroline Forbes find it?

Date of update: May 5 2021

AO3

Without Pause Without Doubt

Author: ThrowMeAStory

Rating: M

Length: 3,679

Summary: 4x16, au. Part 9. Klaroline vs Damon.

Date of update: May 1 2021

Between Reality and Madness

Author: Eliliyah

Rating: G

Length: 8,395

Summary: When Caroline Forbes, Hogwart's resident Potions Mistress, is bitten by a werewolf, her father, the Minister of Magic, immediately orders she be taken away and imprisoned in a so-called "Rehabilitation Facility," mysterious camps from which no wolf has ever returned. Dodging curses, she runs for her life. Her only chance is to find the one person who seems to know a thing or two about wolves: Headmaster Klaus Mikaelson.

Date of update: May 1 2021

Our Time Now (Chapter 2)

Author: perfectpro

Rating: M

Length: 23,970

Summary: Caroline is going to spend her senior year getting into the law school of her choice, leading the cheerleading squad to a nationals title, and passing her sorority presidency to someone who will continue a legacy of excellence. She doesn't have time to take a bubble bath, much less to figure out what's happening with her relationship with Klaus. Not that it's much of a relationship to begin with.

Date of update: May 1 2021

no goodbyes (Chapter 11)

Author: deadofwrite (dead_of_write)

Rating: E

Length: 78,975

Summary: “Last night shouldn’t have happened,” Caroline whispered. Guilt. Shame. Regret. It was all the emotions he feared. And it was written all over her face. aka. a college/cheating au

Date of update: May 1 2021

All You Never Say (Chapter 6)

Author: misssophiachase

Rating: T

Length: 18,967

Summary: One wedding involving a best man and maid of honour who've grown up together but don't know quite how to reconcile their unresolved feelings.

Date of update: May 2 2021

A smutty anniversary (Chapter 8)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: E

Length: 5,414

Summary: Caroline and Klaus celebrate 3 months together with a day full of smut.

Date of update: May 2 2021

Darkness Becomes Thee (Chapter 3)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: 12,317

Summary: Austria 1300s When Klaus met a young girl on a riverbank, he knew that he would one day come back for her. When he looked into her bright blue eyes, he could see a reflection of his own soul, a darkness that lingered inside both of them. When the young girl turned into a beautiful woman with a thirst for blood, his fascination with her turns into obsession. He wants not only her loyalty but her eternity, a possessiveness that is equally returned.

Date of update: May 2 2021

One of a Kind, Two of a Kind, or the Three Musketeers (Chapter 11)

Author: Phandancee74

Rating: T

Length: 24,114

Summary: Caroline recognizes how hard it is for Elena to be a doppelgänger, her fate predestined as well as her face. It's pretty tough being the last of your kind too though, and Caroline is determined to protect them both, with some very helpful Bennetts on their side.

Date of update: May 2 2021

Klaus’ Thousand Year Plan to be Her Last (Chapter 2)

Author: anncatherine

Rating: T

Length: 2,867

Summary: So these are some missing Klaroline scenes from my Elena/Elijah soulmate fic that I couldn’t include because they either didn’t fit or needed to be form Klaus or Caroline’s pov. I think it would be helpful to read at least the first couple chapters of that for background, but basically at twelve people’s soulmate’s birthday shows up on their wrist.

Date of update: May 2 2021

Cloud 9: A Collection of Klaroline Fusions and Crossovers (Chapter 11)

Author: klarolineagainnaturally

Rating: G

Length: 5,597

Summary: Various fusions and crossovers with Klaus and Caroline including Much Ado About Nothing, Ready or Not, and Tangled!

Date of update: May 2 2021

The Big Bad Wolf (Chapter 8)

Author: MorningStarGirl666

Rating: T

Length: 58,507

Summary: He was the Big, Bad Wolf of this story, there was no doubt about that. But Caroline? She was the light to his darkness, the moon that shone brighter than even the stars in a sky of endless void. Like every wolf, he fell in love with the moon, and every month, he was destined to cry for a love he would never touch.

Date of update: May 2 2021

Destination Wedding (Chapter 5)

Author: PumpkinDoodles

Rating: T

Length: 10,294

Summary: The first rule of going to your ex's wedding is 'make sure you look good,' but Caroline's seriously worried that this British Guy is going to make her late. And she cannot be late to Rebekah Mikaelson and Matt Donovan's wedding at a Virginia winery.

Date of update: May 3 2021

We are young (Chapter 14)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: 16,153

Summary: Basically, Klaroline flirt in front of their kids who they are barely older than, and Landon is appropriately confused.

Date of update: May 3 2021

Road to Ruin

Author: Cupcakemolotov

Rating: ?

Length: 2,122

Summary: Caroline comes home for Elena's funeral two years after she made out of Mystic Falls to NYU, and meets Klaus Mikaelson, one of the enigmatic brother's who claimed Elena as their own.

Date of update: May 3 2021

Time Heals All Wounds (Chapter 2)

Author: khaleesiofthewolves

Rating: ?

Length: 4,393

Summary: Does time really heals all wounds? Deeply scarred by his past, he would beg to differ. Klaus never thought the midnight shift at the hospital would change his life and yet it did. When a certain blonde is brought in with severe injuries, Klaus will learn that sometimes doctors need healing as well. Will their inner wounds and scars help them grow together or just tear them apart?

Date of update: May 3 2021

Caroline in Wonderland

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: 25,491

Summary: London, 1903 On the day of her wedding, a young boy collides into Caroline's legs, all but knocking her to the ground. Seeing that she is dreading walking down the aisle, any moment stalling her from heading to the church is welcome. However, when she follows the young boy down a London street, something impossible happens and Caroline finds herself in a magical world that she had been told about as a young child- Wonderland. She embarks on a journey through Wonderland to find out who she really is, where she belongs and towards a man who she had thought was nothing more than an imaginary friend.

Date of update: May 4 2021

A Bee A Tulip and a Meddlesome Sister

Author: KatherineBee1814

Rating: M

Length: 15,107

Summary: Newly arrived in London from Kent Lady Rebekah Mikaelson quickly catches the eye of infamous Rake and rouge Lord Anthony Bridgerton but Andromeda will be damned before she lets him marry her favourite sibling.

Date of update: May 4 2021

Soulmate visions (Chapter 6)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: 11,445

Summary: On your soulmate's eighteenth birthday, you see through their eyes for an hour, but they don’t know. And if your soulmate turns eighteen before you are even born, you never get a vision. Klaus gets his soulmate vision right after he orders Tyler to bite Caroline on her birthday….

Date of update: May 4 2021

White Winds Blow (Chapter 2)

Author: perfectpro

Rating: T

Length: 17,704

Summary: Caroline Forbes waits anxiously in the Riverlands to hear of the return of her betrothed, Elijah Mikaelson, from the uprising against the mad King Silas. Instead, a letter arrives from his younger brother, Lord Niklaus, telling her of Elijah's death and offering to uphold the joining of their houses himself. She will become the Lady of Winterfell, but Lord Niklaus, waiting at the heart tree, is a stranger.

Date of update: May 4 2021

later on, we'll conspire (Chapter 3)

Author: PumpkinDoodles

Rating: M

Length: 7,292

Summary: Caroline asks Klaus to choose her over revenge at the Winter Wonderland Party.

Date of update: May 5 2021

KC Drabbles 2021

Author: CandyCane1287

Rating: T

Length: 8,303

Summary: C1: Hybrid Klaus meets human Caroline earlier and they fall in love. But there’s more. Ps, Katherine didn’t turn Caroline and she’s still human. He used Elena for the sacrifice but Elijah revived her. He got Tyler to bite Caroline but Klaus healed her. Tyler and Caroline broke up cause he cheated on her and they weren’t that in love. A bit of talk of Damon, but doesn’t go into too much detail. I suck at summaries btw.

Date of update: May 5 2021

Revenge of the Fifth - TVD Edition

Author: kcatdino

Rating: M

Length: 4,057

Summary: A star wars AU for vampire dairies for May the Fourth Be with You! Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena are padawan learners at Luke Skywalker’s new Jedi training academy, desperate to prove themselves by taking down some of the new Sith Lords that have popped up. The problem is, those Sith Lords are the Mikaelsons, and each girl has a Mikaelson brother obsessed with them, unwilling to let them come to harm. Will that make it harder or easier for them to triumph over the Dark Side?

Date of update: May 6 2021

The Beach House (Chapter 2)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: M

Length: 3,812

Summary: When Rebekah blackmails Klaus into pretending to be her friend Caroline’s boyfriend for the weekend, he expects sand, sun, and horrible people who never left high school. And while Caroline’s friends may ‘suck’ (her term, not his), he increasingly enjoys the time he spends with the bubbly blonde. But nothing can happen, even while sharing a bed. Caroline might feel bad for dragging Klaus away from his infant daughter for the weekend, but the little intimacies and kisses for their performance build up and start to feel very real. And now she wants him bad. If only Rebekah hadn’t warned him off.

Date of update: May 5 2021

Author: VintageLilac

Rating: T

Length: 156,908

Summary: New York was home to the richest families in the in world. They were the elite and spent their days traveling the world, making money, and earning power. Although Manhattan wasn't just their home, it was their kingdom. Left with little parental supervision, no rules, and copious amounts of money, the infamous teenagers ran the city and as people say, long may they reign.

Date of update: May 6 2021

That Kind Of Power

Author: ThrowMeAStory

Rating: M

Length: 3,375

Summary: 4x16 au, Part 10. Caroline vs Elena.

Date of update: May 6 2021

Reasons Not to Date a Mikaelson (Chapter 5)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: 9,517

Summary: Bonnie and Caroline gain a new roommate for their freshman dorm when a vision leads them to tracking down a pregnant Hayley in the Rockies. Also, Bonnie may or may not have raised a certain dead Original instead of Jeremy and Klaus takes a job at Whitmore teaching, to be annoying. He’s very good at it.

Date of update: May 7 2021

LITTLE TENSE (Chapter 3)

Author: wincefish16

Rating: T

Length: 3,592

Summary: Klaroline's life together as they work in Mikaelson and co. Different snippets of their life.

Date of update: May 7 2021

FFN: The Exclusivity Clause (Chapter 3)

AO3: The Exclusivity Clause (Chapter 3)

Author: slstmaraudersjple

Rating: M

Length: 12,529

Summary: When Klaus receives a call that his soulmate has been found after searching for her for almost a century, he sets off to claim her before his enemies can harm her. But his soulmate is human this time around, innocent and irresistible, and his wolf wants nothing more than to mark her. Soulmates Reincarnation AU.

Date of update: May 1st

FFN: Louder Than Thunder (Chapter 39)

AO3: Louder Than Thunder (Chapter 17)

Author: khaleesiofthewolves

Rating: M

Length: 256,589

Summary: All Hell was about to break loose. After dying while protecting a grieving Klaus, Caroline finds herself sent back in time, and she's not who she once was. She's more. Back in Mystic Falls, something else is stirring. After the arrival of a mysterious figure from Klaus' past, it all comes to a head. It really is louder than thunder.

Date of update: May 3 2021

FFN: Caroline the Not So Teenage Witch

AO3: Caroline the Not So Teenage Witch (Chapter 15)

Author: klarolineagainnaturally

Rating: T

Length: 35,304

Summary: Continuing the drabble inspired by Sabrina the Teenage Witch, young witch Caroline Forbes must learn to live with her old flame turned cat. Antics ensue as they try to get along and fix what has been done.

Date of update: May 3 2021

FFN: A Beautiful Symmetry (Chapter 155)

AO3: A Beautiful Symmetry (Chapter 155)

Author: Uppity Bitch

Rating: M

Length: 419,840

Summary: A collection of random AU one-shots featuring Klaroline. Chapter 155: Part 2 — Fright Wedding. This is a sequel to Chapter 141: Fright Wedding. The alliance with the Mikaelson kingdom failed when they declared war, but Caroline was certain Klaus would be an excellent ally. Or hostage. Or possibly something more?

Date of update: May 3 2021

FFN: Royals of New York (Chapter 28)

AO3: Royals of New York (Chapter 27)

Author: VintageLilac

Rating: T

Length: 162,215

Summary: New York's royals spend their days traveling the world, making money, and earning power. With little parental supervision, no rules, and copious amounts of money, their children have New York as their own personal kingdom. May their reign be long and prosperous.

Date of update: May 6 2021

#klaroline library #KCL weekly releases #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

Note

Hopefully it's not a bother, but could you write something about the Van Der Linde gang getting magically transported (Magic, Tardis, Marko, Science ) to the modern universe and having the gn! Reader help them adapt to this world? Maybe some of their reactions to new things (indoor bathrooms, new music, tv, memes) Thank you so much, love!

oh god this is a long post, and as always, im convinced i’ve missed one member out... minor drug warning on Johns headcanon, but the rest are tame. hope u enjoy!

Part 2 is here | Part 3 is here

Arthur finds your computer and figures out how to turn it on. Your face turns white when you find him on Tumblr, quickly shutting the tab and urging him up off the chair. "Hey! I was reading that! I was... erm, I think I was having sex with myself," he tells you. Yep, he's found the fanfiction. "Do they really mean that? That I got kind eyes and a, uh... fat ass, I think it was?" You quickly show him the kitchen and run back to delete all your history. John goes rummaging through your cupboards for something to eat, and eventually finds the brownies in the fridge. You find him on the roof, his eyes red and his heads spinning. "Them.. them brownies..." he mutters. "I know, John," you sob back. You know which brownies he ate, and my god, he ate a lot of them. Arthur babysits him, his mind still questioning what he just read on your computer. Dutch finds the beast of a lawnmower you have in your garage, so you show him how to use it. Why not? He's mowing your lawn for free. Well, he did mow your lawn, but you eventually have to send a search party out after him, only to find him a couple of streets away, parked up next to a childs lemonade stand, insisting they should be selling this lemonade for more if they want to make a profit.

Hosea also goes missing, but you find him during your search party mission. He's walking up the street back to the house with a paper bag in his hands, and he tells you he's managed to con the gas station clerk into giving him some free booze. You're not sure how, but he's done no harm so you let him enjoy his wine in peace. Bill found your anime figure collection, the ones with the big boobs. He asked you what they were, despite seeming rather flustered, but you tried to explain that it's normal and gave him a book to read. You catch him on your computer a few hours later buying himself a waifu body pillow because "I love her, dammit! Just let us be!" He also keeps pressing the squishy boobs on your anime mouse matt, and yes, he's still very flustered. Javier finds the TV in your room that has Netflix on it, so you show him how to use it and he seems happy distracting himself with that. You walk in a few hours later to see that Javier hasn't moved, but Molly is now by his side, also engulfed in the drag show on the screen. Javier has a thick pair of false lashes on that Molly managed to put on him, and the first thing he says to you is "can you believe this? They voted her off! I... I can't believe this." He's shaking his head and looks like he's about to cry. Charles discovers your computer, and you decide he'd be happy just browsing the web. You come back hours later to find 100 tabs open and your computer fan is louder than an airplane. The current tab open is on a 'where's Waldo?' piece. He's very close to the screen, and you decide to show him how to zoom in to help him find Waldo faster. He's very thankful, and not causing any damages so you leave him to it. Lenny also rummages through your kitchen and finds a pizza in the freezer. He asks you what it is, so you put it in the oven for him. He spends the whole 15 minutes sitting in front of the oven, briefly saying hello to Sean as he runs through. Lenny manages to get the pizza out without burning himself, turns the oven off, cuts up the pizza and takes it upstairs to enjoy with Jack. Yes, he also fed Sean a slice. Sean finds the energy drinks in your fridge that you keep for work. They tasted a little funny at first, but after the third one, he's decided he likes them. You catch him opening his fourth, his eyes are wider than the moon. He cries when you take it off him, and spends the rest of the day running around the garden with your dogs, followed by going to each member of the camp and personally annoying them until he crashes out under your dining table. It's a cozy spot for a nap. Kieran uses your computer after Charles comes off it, and discovers youtube. He starts off with simple cat videos and eventually moves on to fails and meme comps. By the time dinner rolls around, nobody can understand him, and you barely understand half the things he's saying. The only thing you do understand is "big mood," which is what Kieran says when he sees Sean asleep under the dining table. Pearson decides to avoid the kitchen and try something new, and you're quick to decide he'd enjoy rock music. You show him a couple of CD's and leave him to have a listen, only to come storming back up the stairs a few minutes later because he's turned the volume up to full blast and is having a rather funky jam session. "Now this, this is real music!!" He's really enjoying the classics. Trelawny is quick to figure out how to use the TV. He's seen "those moving picture shows" before, and he's mesmerized by how far they've come! You catch him up at 5am watching documentaries to help bridge the gap between his time and yours, and when you walk into the lounge, you're met by a very sleep deprived Trelawny. The only thing he says to you, with heavy bags under his eyes, is "terribly sorry to hear about all these wars you've been having, my dear." He finally goes to bed, but only because you make him. Swanson disappears, but there's a church down the road from you so you decide to check there first. He's inside, joining in on the ceremony, singing his heart out to all the hymns with a real bible in his hands, not the fake one he has back at camp. He seems content so you leave him to it. He thankfully returns just in time for dinner, and tells everybody how he's been blessed and that we can "never leave this land!" Strauss also disappears very quickly, and you have to search for him when you go to look for Dutch. He's also at the lemonade stand, trying to explain to Dutch that if the child sells the lemonade for more, then they're less likely to get customers as it's too expensive. The two of them are arguing, and the child seems rather confused. Strauss later has a breakdown at the noise your toilet makes, he informs you that he'll be using your outside bathroom, even if it is just the bushes. Micah says he doesn't need you to show him the ropes and swats you away, so you leave him to it. You've not seen him for a good few hours, so you run around the house trying to find him. You eventually find him in your room, going through your underwear draw. Arthur is quick to knock his lights out, and you leave him tied up in the garage so he can't do any more damage. Micah also pissed all over your toilet seat and didn't flush. Abigail joins Trelawny in the lounge, watching the TV after Jack tells her he's happy playing with the toys in your room. She and Trelawny have an argument over what to watch next, so you give her your laptop to watch TV on, along with a pair of headphones. She refuses to come off a few hours later because she's way too engulfed in the modeling show she's watching. You promise her you'll let her give you a makeover if she comes off, and she finally agrees. Jack discovers your big box of legos and he seems more than content playing with those. He ends up building a fort, with the help of Lenny, and the two fire pillows at you when you try and enter the room. The pillow canons are, of course, made from legos. At least they're not lego pillows! Jack also thanks you for the pizza, describing it as 'yummy.' Sadie finds your katana collection, and you're quick to take them off her and attempt to hide them. She spends some time pretending to be interested in something else, but as soon as you turn your back for a split second, she's found them again and is heading straight for Kieran. The room where you keep your katanas is now locked and Sadie is in time out. Susan comes across your sewing machine and you're happy to show her how it works. She picks it up quickly, and her eyes glisten as she realizes just how fast this thing is. You leave her be since she's not causing any harm, but come back an hour later to find she's made new a new dress for herself, and all the girls in the gang, including Sadie. They're all matching! Tilly finds your piano and tells you she's happy to be left to her own devices, she knows how to play. You eventually have to tell her and Susan to calm down after receiving another noise complaint, as Susan is attempting to sing opera, and Tilly is killing it on the piano. At least she hasn't damaged anything. She later joins Mary-Beth in time to watch Beauty and the Beast, also sobbing at the film. Karen goes into your garage and discovers your old golf clubs. You show her how it works in your garden, but just like everybody else, it goes wrong. Your neighbor knocks on your door, screaming, demanding to know why you keep firing golf balls through their window. That's when you find Karen and Sean (who is still on his energy drink high) having a contest to see who can smash the most. Mary-Beth discovers your kindle, and she seems rather content with being able to read. There's no way this could possibly go wrong? Well, you come back a little later to find that Mary-Beth is sobbing after reading Beauty and the Beast. She wants a sappy romance just like that to happen to her. She cries even harder when she watches the Disney film, along with Trelawny who hasn't moved from the TV for hours. Molly picks up your tablet, and after showing her what youtube is, you leave her to it. You find her a few hours later sat in front of your mirror with the most flawless, full face of makeup. She greets you by going "hey sisters!" and speaks to you like a vsco girl. You have no idea what she's saying, but she seems to be doing fine, so you leave her to it.

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years ago

Text

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

Chapter Five

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Profanity, mirror sex, choking, kind of face-fucking? a touch of voyeurism, oral-male receiving, penetrative sex, Mean Maxwell fuckin’ lmao, office sex, angry sex, how in God’s name did we get here I am horrible at writing smut so i just want to say i’m SORRY.

Chapter Summary: You take the measurements for the richest family in D.C, Valerie is surprised by her how quickly her son has taken a shining to you and Maxwell has a late night at the office.

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @cinewhore @this-cat-is-dea @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @favoriteff-allcelebs @teaofpeach

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/

“The Lords are coming by tomorrow.” Cassandra looked up from the book open at the register.

“But Mrs.Lord was just in yesterday.” She told you.

“Not just her this time.” You finished off the seam on the ground in front of you as you spoke. “All of them are coming in, her husband and son, the whole gang of rich folk will be here.”

Ever since Valerie stepped into your shop late at night four weeks ago, she made herself a common visitor. Oftentimes she’d waltz in, plop herself down onto a chair and begin to complain about Maxwell’s secretary with the horrid voice or one of her friends who was less of a friend and more of a pain in the ass.

You didn’t know how becoming the friend of a heiress meant her throwing herself into your lap everyday to gossip about other rich people but hey, you weren’t complaining. She was pretty good company when the dust settled.

Three days ago she had called your store, and told you she, Maxwell, and Alastair would be coming in to get measurements taken so you could get the mock-up of their outfits done with their approval to move on to the finished version.

Before she could say anything else you had asked about her son.

“What does he like?”

“What?”

“What’s he like?” You asked, as you spoke your hand picked up the needle once more and began to hem the dress in your lap. “You know, DuckTales, Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve got some stuff I always bring out when kids come into the shop but I don’t know how rich kids work. Do I just hand him money and call him sir?”

“Ha ha.” She droned. “You know if life as a seamstress doesn’t work out, you should pursue a career in comedy, you’d flourish.”

“Aw Val, I couldn’t!” You cooed. “You’d miss me too much.”

You heard her scoff on the other line. From across the store Cass looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head.

“Nonetheless.” She said slowly. “Alastair isn’t into traditional children’s activities. He enjoys chess with his tutors, reading, and playing the cello.”

You fought the urge to ask if these were things he liked to do or things his parents wanted him to do.

Maybe rich kids were just built differently.

“I’m just calling to tell you certain adjustments must be made for my son.” She explained, in a tone so formal you hadn’t heard it since you first met her.

“Uh sure.” You sat up, concerned. “What do you need?”

“Certain textures make him extremely uncomfortable for clothing, so be aware that the lining will have to be a soft, smoother material.”

You sat back, observing the swatches already laid out in the backroom. You could grab a few more of softer materials for him to feel and see which one he liked the most. You already assumed as such, since he’s a kid and you remembered how much you hated wearing your church dress because of how itchy it was. “ Anything else need to be done?”

“He can get overstimulated if places are too loud or crowded at times, but since your store hardly has any customers in it.” You could hear the smirk on her face over the phone and groaned. “I doubt that will be a problem.”

“It’s my pleasure to be of your assistance.” You snipped. A moment of silence passed between the pair of you. “But uh, seriously. Don’t worry about it. I’ve made clothes for kids and people with touch aversions before. No sweat.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out. “Really Stitches, I appreciate it.”

At her praise your lips curled into a soft smile. “It’s no problem Val. One question though.”

“Yes?”

“Who the hell names their kid Alastair?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that Stitches, I’ll see you tomorrow.” A dial tone met your ears and you called out to Cassandra.

“Do we have a chess board in the back?”

---

Valerie walked into her son’s room, clearing her throat so both him and his tutor looked up at her.

“Alastair honey, can I talk to you for a moment?” The boy, only eight, nodded and closed his workbook before standing. The tutor however, shot a hand out to grab her son’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Lord.” The tutor, a man graying at the temples who wore ties so bland she’d rather wear a nose, shot her a condescending smile. “I thought we agreed on not interrupting Alastair’s lessons. It’s bad for his focus.”

“Mr. Lanston.” She shot back in the same sickly sweet tone as she tapped a manicured nail against the wall. “Who’s house is this?”

The man swallowed. “Mr.Lor-”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head side to side as if scolding a dog. “For a tutor you seem to be quite fond of giving out the wrong answers. So I will ask you again, whose house is this?”

The tutor shrunk back. “Yours.”

“Correct. And who is it that you work for?”

“You, Mrs.Lord.” He said meekly.

“Correct again! Now since this is my house and it is my son you are teaching, I will speak to him if I please. And if you try and insult my son’s intellect by saying a simple chat with his mother will throw him off course, I will throw you out onto the street. Do you understand me?”

The man’s mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water.

“I asked you a question Mr.Lanston.” Her hand tapped against the Cartier watch on her wrist expectantly. “I expect an answer back.”

“Of course Mrs.Lord.” He stammered out, before turning to her son who just barely came to his hip. “I’m so sorry Mr.Lord.”

“That’s okay.” He answered simply, before taking his mother's hand in his and walking out of the room.

Alastair Lord was eight years old, had his mother’s bright blue eyes and his father’s dark brown hair (Maxwell visited a hairstylist regularly but would never admit it). He had already skipped a grade but his parents insisted on keeping track of his studies, even during the summer. Maxwell did it in an attempt to feel less guilty about being stuck at work all day instead of being with his son, Valerie did it so nobody would ever get the chance to use her son’s intellect as a weapon against his own standing.

The Lords didn’t agree on much. But one thing they did agree on was that they loved their son more than anything in the world.

“Do you still want to go to the gala with us in September?” She asked him. Her son’s eyes flicked out to the large glass window that proudly displayed their immaculate lawn, a bird flew along the clear pane before flying up and out of sight. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll go.” He said simply. He squeezed his mother’s hand in his with a small smile. “I like going to those fancy parties, you always wear pretty dresses.” He frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I don’t like it when those old ladies try to touch my hair and kiss my cheek though.”

Alastair hated physical affection from those he didn’t know. The last business party of Maxwell’s he went to, a man’s wife tried to give him what she thought was a friendly kiss on the cheek because he was “such a darling little boy!”. Alastair ripped himself away from her in a panic, to which she then got offended and insisted to speak with his mother about his “awful manners.”

When Maxwell came to find his son clinging to his mother’s leg with tears in his eyes, he promptly had the couple thrown out and cut off business ties with the woman’s husband on account of her awful manners.

From then on Alastair’s parents made sure he knew that if he was uncomfortable with a situation, he was to tell them and they would put an end to it immediately.

“Your father and I are going to go see a seamstress to get measurements done for the gala. Would you come with us so we can get a suit made for you as well?”

Alastair looked up at his mother, blue eyes shining and ultimately passive at her question.

“Sure.”

------

It was late at night when he came into his son’s room. Alastair was already in bed, nuzzled under his sheets and head resting against his pillow. Maxwell gently rapped his knuckles against the door before entering, his son’s eyes blinked open. It was always a shock how much they looked like Valerie's.

“How’s the tutoring going?” Maxwell already knew the answer, Alastair excelled in every subject, but he simply wanted to hear his son speak to him.

“Good.” His son replied. “Mr.Lanston said if I keep studying hard I might be able to skip another grade.”

Maxwell sat on the edge of his bed. “Would you like to skip another grade?”

Alastair was already a grade ahead, his teachers would message his parents about how well behaved and smart he was. But Alastair hardly ever spoke about his own experiences at school, about his friends or anything other than his classes.

“I don’t know.” the boy shifted for a moment, furrowing his brows in frustration and it was moments like this that he truly did look like his mother. “Mr.Lanston says it’s good for me to stay ahead of other but-” He looked off into the window of his room, a small sliver of moonlight peeking through the blue curtains. “Fifth grade sounds kind of fun, I heard the history teacher is really interesting and takes us on fun field trips.”

Part of Maxwell, the part still drilled into his head by his mother, nagged that he was sending the boy to that school to learn not go on ridiculous field trips. The other part of him, the part that shone when Alastair called him dad, felt guilt when he saw how apprehensive his son was in telling him how he felt.

Maxwell smiled, reached out to ruffle his son’s hair that was damn near a carbon copy of his own (before he got it dyed of course). “Then you’ll stay right where you are champ.”

“Thanks dad.”

The older lord frowned, before sternly pointing a finger at his son. “That’s Mr.Dad to you, young man.”

His son promptly groaned and threw his blanket over his face. “That joke still isn’t funny!” Even at his disgust, Maxwell could hear his son’s muffled giggles through the blanket and smiled.

“Humor is subjective, son.” Maxwell stood up from the bed, knees popping loudly as he did. Jesus, he was getting old. “Goodnight Alastair.”

Maxwell was already out of his son’s room and halfway down the hall when a tiny voice peeped out.

“Goodnight dad.”

-----

“So what exactly does his son like?” Cassandra stood at the register, head laying in the palm of her hand as she leaned against the counter. The back room had been set full with different fabrics for them to see and either confirm or reject. Which in the classic Lord fashion meant they will either toss it at you with a stiff “this will do” or tell you it’s the ugliest thing in the world.

You sighed. “Apparently he likes to read, play chess and the cello.” You looked toward the old checkers board set out and shrugged. “That was the closest thing I had so lets hope he isn’t as stuck up as his father or dramatic as his mother.”

“Speaaaaking of which.” Cassandra looked up with an excited grin. “You and Mrs.Lord are like, best friends now right?”

You thought about all the times she paraded into your store before throwing herself into the nearest chair (or your lap) before complaining about her day like a soap opera star.

“Well I wouldn’t say best friends, but we’ve certainly gotten closer.”

“What’s she like? Has she taken you shopping? Have you seen her house? Is she as mean as everybody says she is?”

You pulled back for a moment, thinking. “She’s nice for a rich lady, no we haven’t gone shopping and I don’t think we ever will, I haven’t seen her house which once again I don’t think will ever happen, and honestly she insults me a lot but I think it’s her way of showing affection at this point.”

Cassandra giggled. “Like a cat?”

You thought about a cat- a fickle creature that will hiss and scratch in one second, and then demand all of your attention right after.

“You know what? That’s actually a pretty spot on comparison.”

The jingle of a bell met your ears before a stern voice sounded out.

“My god do you people not know what a broom is?”

You turned around, watching Maxwell enter your store with a crinkled nose.

“I know what a broom is well enough rich boy, why don’t I go get one so I can shove it up your-”

Cassandra cleared her throat loudly before motioning to the tiny child at Maxwell’s side.

“Oh, uh-” You realized the boy must've just seen you threaten his father. “Hey little dude. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” The boy responded. Alastair’s voice was just as tiny as he was. He had his mother’s eyes and father’s nose, but his hair was so dark it made you wonder which one of his parents bleached their hair.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mam.”

Prim posture, perfect manners, not a single hair out of place. He struck you less as a kid and more as a robot but you bit your tongue before smiling back.

“No need for fancy titles with me, little lord. You can call me Stitches.”

Alastair wrinkled his nose, a gesture that made him look so much like his father you wanted to laugh. “That’s a weird name.”

Valerie tutted at her son, blue eyes cast down in disappointment. “Alastair! Don’t be rude.”

“He isn’t wrong.” Maxwell waved off his wife’s scolding of their son. “Besides, I believe we came here to get actual work done on whatever horrid outfits you're making for the gala?”

“Of course.” You turned on your heel, leading them to the backroom where multiple mirrors lined the wall. “I’d hate to take up too much of your time. You’re a busy man after all, I’m sure you’d rather be off making your secretary cry or something equally as important.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and shucked off his jacket, ignoring the twinge of annoyance he felt at even the mention of his secretary, someone you didn’t even know grated him so horribly.

“Well we can’t all run rotten, hole-in-the-wall shops like this that just beg to be robbed.” He turned a sly eye to you with his nose tilted up. “Some of us have standards after all.”

You smiled. “I suppose you're right about that one Mr.Lord, I doubt my skills will live up to your expectations.” You wrapped the measuring tape around his bicep, using it to tug him so close his powerful facade melted into one of shock.

“And yet-” Your voice curled in his ear like a tempting call, your eyes so focused on taking note of the measurement of his arm Maxwell hoped you didn’t hear his breath catch.

“-here you are.”

Valerie looked up from the fabric swatches in her hand to notice the way Maxwell stared at you while you were blissfully unaware. It was hungry, surprised and oh so desperate. The same way she looked at you.

All while you busied yourself with his measurements, unaware of the inner workings between the billionaire and his wife.

Valerie was pulled from her head when her son handed her a swatch of fabric, a royal blue in color and soft knit against her skin.

“This one is nice.”

She smiled at her son. Out of the corner of her eye she saw you wrap the tape measure around her husband’s chest. She reached down to playfully tug on the collar of his shirt, also a deep royal blue.

“You’ll look lovely in it sweetheart.”

The conversation between you and his father was not nearly as loving.

“Do you have to play such obnoxious music?”

You didn’t bother to look up at Maxwell when he snipped back, you simply focused on the tape in your hands and the measurement of his chest which only made him even angrier.

Obnoxious, what a perfect word to describe you.

The shirts, the tattoos, everything about you was just so...loud.

His eyes flicked forward when he felt your fingers ghost over his chest. Mirrors lined each wall, most likely so your customers could see what the clothes looked like on them from each angle. But as you leaned down to measure his inseam, his thoughts went other places.

Places they definitely shouldn’t have with his wife and son in the same room.

“Do you have to wear such disgusting cologne?”

Maybe it was your attitude, such defiance nobody openly showed him in fear of losing their job, or the fact that you were so different than the tucked in, prim-and-proper future trophy wives he fucked, or maybe it was simply the fact that your ass looked phenomenal in those jeans, but Maxwell couldn’t help but imagine fucking you in front of those mirrors.

He wondered if you’d be loud, head thrown back and calling out his name as he fucked into you without mercy, without care. Maybe you’d be shy, you were so stubborn after all. Perhaps you’d bite your lip, trying to keep your noises stifled so you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he made you feel. Maxwell wouldn’t allow that of course, he’d never admit it but he liked having his ego stroked almost as much as his cock. He wouldn’t hesitate to grab your jaw, forcing you to look forward at yourself in the mirrors.

‘We’re the only ones here.�� His breath fanning out over your neck would make you shudder as you stared at your reflection just as he did. Seeing the way your tits bounced with each thrust and the ways your legs trembled and shook like those of a newborn. His pride swelled at the notion that if his arm wasn’t wrapped tight around your waist and gripping you close, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now.

‘Let me hear you.’ He grunted into your neck as your whimpers got louder until you were all but shouting his name. ‘Good girl.’

“It’s revolting really.”

The sinful painting in his mind was torn to shreds when your haughty voice cut through it like a hot blade.

He blinked owlishly, you stood in front of him, tape measure no longer against him but thrown over your shoulder while you crossed your arms.

“What?”

“Your cologne.” You explained with a smirk. “It’s like trying to take measurements in a chemical factory. A little goes a long way Maxwell.” You gave him a sarcastic pat on the shoulder, one he was too distracted to push off because the way his name rolled off your lips.

You had never said his name before.

As quick as the interaction was, you turned to Valerie and Alastair, both sitting at the table behind you. You smiled and held a welcoming hand out.

“You ready little man?”

Alastair looked at his mother, who nodded her head and he slid off his chair to hop onto the pedestal his father previously stood on top of. His father took a seat next to his wife who said nothing.

They both watched their son raise his arms as you held up the tape measure to him with a smile, you were saying something to him, most likely about school or his summer break. Valerie appreciated when you asked her about his interests to make a connection, but knew that was less than likely. Alastair wasn’t one to make connections, something she wondered if he got from his father by instinct or something that was drilled into him by his grandmother.

Before she had been banned from coming to their house.

“I’ll be working late tonight.” Maxwell told his wife. He knew she didn’t really care, their marriage was ten years of working late nights. Telling her at this point was just a courtesy.

“Will your secretary be working as well?”

Maxwell noted the sly dig toward Delilah, but didn’t care enough about the woman to defend her.

“If she wasn’t I wouldn't have hired her.”

Valerie ignored her husband in favor of the scene in front of her. She watched as you held the tape to her son’s leg, nodding your head as he spoke at length while you took his measurements. To say his mother was surprised would be an understatement, he hardly talked to his parents. Let alone people he’s only just met.

Maybe something about you just brought out that side of the Lords.

“Alrighty, you're all good Alastair.” The youngest Lord hopped off the little step and you looked toward his mother with a jut of your chin. “You're up, Val.”

Maxwell looked toward his wife with a raised brow, mouthing her nickname in confusion. She was too busy taking your hand as you stepped onto the pedestal to notice.

“So-” You wrapped the tape measure around her waist, mindful not to let your hands linger. “-how the hell did you two make such a sweet kid like Alastair?”

Valerie smiled at your reflection and ignored the way her heart jumped when you pulled the measuring tape just beneath the swell of her chest. “I’m not sure if that was an insult on my parenting or my personality.”

“Oh definitely an insult on your personality, without a doubt.” You responded seriously, but the tilt of your lips lent it to a gentle tease. “You must be doing something right because that kid is better behaved than you and your husband.” You looked up for a moment and she held her breath.

“Or should I be giving this praise to some poor underpaid nanny you torture?”

Valerie scoffed. “Oh please, Miriam is hardly underpaid and she doesn’t do a damn thing right. I don’t know why we keep her around these days.”

You snorted. “Miriam?” The tape measure pressed to the side of her hip as you measured down her leg. “God, you people really tic every box off the one percent checklist, don’t you?”

Valerie hummed, painted lips curls into a smile. “We try our best dear.”

You stood up straight, hands moving behind her to wrap the tape around her chest with an awkward cough. Even as you willed all your focus on the numbers of her measurement you couldn't help but feel your face grow hot.

“How unlady-like.” She murmured, you didn’t look up to meet her gaze but the smug tone in her voice gave it away. “At least buy me dinner, Stitches.”

You chuckled and spared a glance up.

What a fucking mistake that was.

Blue eyes stared you down like you have been presented on a silver platter and the richest woman in D.C. wanted nothing more than to devour you right where you stood.

“Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“I’m sure I can make an exception.”

You realized Valerie was alot like the sun, you couldn’t look at her for too long without needing to look away.

You stepped back to write her measurements down and put your hands together.

“I think you folks are good to go.”

You just hoped you wouldn’t end up burned.

Maxwell stood up and scoffed. “About damn time, some of us have real work to do instead of twiddling our thumbs and sewing little dresses.” As he walked by, his eyes flicked over yours in a poisonous glare and his shoulder knocked against yours with his son following behind him like a little carbon copy.

You looked toward his wife, who looked just as surprised by the worsening of her husband’s mood.

“You’re one lucky woman Mrs.Lord.”

“Believe me I know.” She leaned forward to whisper with a wink. “But I know a few things that’ll brighten him up no problem.”

You scrunched up your face and pushed out every image that surged into your mind at her implication. “Okay gross, didn’t need to know that but thank you.”

“Always my pleasure Stitches.”

The door shut behind Valerie as she walked out to their car, throwing one last wink over her shoulder before sliding into the backseat next to her son while her husband slammed the passenger seat door behind them.

“Well-” Cassandra looked over at you with a surprised expression. She must've noticed the fact that Maxwell had seemed to be pissier than usual, you did as well but assumed it was because of some deal that went sour at work or some type of rich people shit you couldn’t even fathom. “-his son seemed nice.”

“Yeah.” Their car turned a corner and disappeared from your line of sight. “They aren’t exactly the fucking Brady Bunch though.”

------

“Daniels-” Maxwell adjusted his collar in the rear-view mirror as he spoke. “-swing by the office. I need to go over some papers for a meeting I have tomorrow. Then take Valerie and Alastair home.”

“Of course sir.”

The driver turned left.

“Mom?”

Valerie looked to the boy at her side. “Yes sweetheart?”

“Can I come with you the next time you see the seamstress?” Valerie looked toward the passengers seat, where her husband sat just as shocked as her.

“You want to go see Stitches?” Maxwell asked. “Again?”

His son nodded, too young to realize how surprised his parents were by his answer.

“She’s funny and nice and she doesn’t talk down to me like other people do.” Alastair looked up at his mother, nervous at her lack of response. “Is that okay?”

That seemed to snap Valerie into action. She smiled and took her son’s hand in her with a loving pat. “Of course sweetheart, Stitches would love to have you around.”

The car came to a halt in front of the Chimtech Consortium building, which stood tall, even against the grit and grime of the busy city streets

Maxwell stepped out of the car before ducking his head into the window. “I’ll be home late tonight champ, alright?”

Alastair held no disappointment nor resentment to his father for the time he spent at work but it didn’t make Maxwell feel like any less of a shit father.

“Okay dad.”

Valerie leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain in her wake. “I’ll see you tonight darling.”

Maxwell smiled. “Don’t stay up too late waiting for me dear.” He took a step back, watching the car drive out of the sight of his building before he frowned and wiped the lipstick off his cheek, which in turn left a red mark on his jacket sleeve.

“Damn that woman.”

The moment he entered the lobby, people seemed to pause before greeting him, none of which he gave a response to. It wasn’t until the elevator door shut that he took a deep breath.

Breathe Maxwell, you’ll run yourself ragged this way.

A tiny titter behind him made him realize he wasn’t alone in the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he could see brown leather shoes that he’d wouldn’t be caught dead in.

“What’s your name son?”

The boy gaped for a moment before he found his voice. “Michael, sir.”

The door opened with a soft Ding! And Maxwell stepped out before turning to face the young man.

Wiry frame, tall, yet hunched over out of pure insecurity and refusing to meet Maxwell’s eye.

He was definitely an intern.

“Well then Mikey-” Maxwell noticed the way his head snapped up as he spoke. “Get me a coffee and bring it to my office, just the way I like it.”

The intern squeaked out a quick “of course sir!” before the doors shut on him.

Maxwell wondered how long it would take for ‘Mikey’ to realize he never told him how he liked his coffee or where his office actually was.

He turned sharply around a corner, taking note in the sea of cubicles he passed, every employee pausing to whisper and watch him march past without speaking. The sound of marketing calls dissipated as he grew farther away from the flurry of lower rank workers. Huddled cubicles were replaced with sleek halls and grand windows showcasing the city view. When his eyes landed on the dark brown door at the end of the hall he nearly wept.

Sweet sanctuary.

His hand had just curled around the silver door knob, the final obstacle between him and sweet sweet isolation when a shrill voice broke out.

“Oh!” Delilah squeaked, jumping up from her chair with surprise. “Mr.Lord, you're here!”

She definitely should’ve noticed that he had gotten here earlier, given that she was his fucking secretary.

“That I am Delilah.” Maxwell answered gruffly, eyes flicking over to the stack of papers on her desk that she would no doubt forget to file. “I do run this company after all.” Before she could respond with some ass-kissing compliment, he walked into his office and shut the door behind him.

Maxwell rolled his shoulders back, undoing the blue tie around his neck as he sank into his office chair with a groan. He spent more time in that chair than his own bed at this point.

Truth be told there wasn’t much that needed to be done at work today that couldn’t be done tomorrow. He had no meetings for another three days and he’d worked himself ragged the past few days to play catch up, now he was more than ahead of the game. He simply needed to be alone, to clear his head a bit.

But try as he may, he couldn’t calm the rambling stream of his consciousness no matter how hard he fought. When he opened his eyes again and spared a glance at the clock on his desk, he realized thirty minutes had passed since he first sat down.

Maxwell groaned, threading his fingers in his hair and pulling in frustration.

Why can’t you get the fuck out of his head?

That bratty attitude combined with your god awful sense of style should've made you repugnant, somebody he couldn’t stand the sight of and didn’t see as anything worth the metaphorical shit under his eight hundred dollar shoes. Yet here he sat, hunched over in his office plagued with your voice saying his name like a challenge over and over in his head like some sick chant.

Maxwell ran a hand through his hair, setting each strand into place before he pressed the button on his desk and spoke with authority.

“Delilah, could you meet me in my office?”

Only a few seconds later, she came scurrying into his office with poorly hidden excitement.

“Yes sir?” That was one thing he hated about her.

The fucking voice.

It wasn’t her voice on it’s own, but it was the way she made her voice sound. She made sure to always talk softly, forcing herself up to a higher octave to sound sweet and submissive like a flute when she really sounded like somebody stepping on the tail of a cat.

But her boss wasn’t interested in her voice to begin with.

He pushed his chair out from under his desk by a fraction and unbuckled his belt.

“Knees.”

She was quick to find her way between his legs with a sultry smile.

“Did you miss me?”

Maxwell scoffed. “Hardly. Now do something useful with that mouth before I start looking at new hires to take your place.”

The smile disappeared and she looked down, uttering out a small “Yes Mr.Lord” before she took his cock into his mouth. Maxwell let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, head falling back with a relaxed hum. His eyes shut as his mind, always his enemy, began to paint a picture he had been longing for all day.

You sat on your knees between his legs, moaning while you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock.

You seemed like the type to tease, he didn’t doubt that. But he enjoyed teasing just fine, as long as he was the one doing it. Maybe in the form of a toy nestled between your legs while he held a remote, turning it on and off with no pattern just to see you whine and buck your hips like a bitch in heat.

His hand knotted itself in your hair and pushed you further down on his cock with a grunt.

“That’s it.” You whined as your head bobbed up and down, tongue hot against his veins while the coil in his stomach wound tighter and tighter every time you moved. “You take it so well, just like that.”

A nervous knock sounded against his door. Maxwell’s eyes snapped open before they narrowed into angry slits.

Christ, he just couldn’t catch a break today.

Delilah let out a muffled squeak and pushed herself off of Maxwell’s cock before his hand pressed down on the back of her head and bucked his hips against her open mouth.

“You make a noise or move an inch off of my dick-” His voice was even and ultimately unbothered as he spoke to her. “-and you're fucking fired.”

Delilah made a whimpered garble against him, he assumed it meant ‘Yes sir.’

“Come in.”

The door creaked open and in walked the same intern from the elevator, just this time with a Styrofoam cup in his trembling hand.

Son of a bitch, the kid actually did it.

“Well color me surprised Mikey, you came through.”

The boy set the coffee on his desk, completely unaware of the woman crouched under the desk, deepthroating the seemingly unbothered man sitting before him.

Maxwell took the coffee into his hand, taking a tentative sip before his face scrunched up. Just as he did, Delilah gagged loudly against him, causing Michael’s eyes to go wide as he looked around for the source of the sound.

God he hated black coffee.

“A touch too bitter for my taste, but gold star for effort kid.” Maxwell's hand snaked under the table to push Delilah's head down another inch or two. Her nose was now nestled against the hem of his dress shirt, and he could feel her struggling to maintain the position by the way her throat flexed around his cock.

Good. Maybe that would shut her up.

“Next time try a dash of nutmeg.”

“Nutmeg?”

“Yes, nutmeg. It’s a nice wake-up in the morning. But for now that will be all.” Maxwell motioned to the door, to which the boy nodded and bowed his head like some servant.

“Of course, have a good day sir.”

“You too kid. Make sure to shut the door behind you.”

The intern all but sprinted out, Maxwell felt his pride swell knowing even after he complimented the intern, he was still scared shitless of him. The moment his door clicked shut, he gripped his slobbering secretary’s hair by the root and wrenched her off his dick, leaving her to sputter and cough with tears in her eyes.

“I suggest you make yourself useful, Miss Harris.” Maxwell slid his jacket off his shoulders and onto the chair behind him. He pulled a condom out of his pocket with a frown that never seemed to leave when she was in his presence.

“That poor intern already knows where my office is and how I like my coffee, you might be out of a job soon enough.”

Delilah wiped the spit from her mouth and grinned. She stood on shaky legs in those horrendous kitten heels before pulling up her skirt and bending over his desk.

“You could never fire me sir.” She groaned, gripping the desk like a lifeline when Maxwell entered her and began to thrust without giving her time to adjust to his size. “You’d miss me too much.”

Maxwell, still buried inside her, scoffed. “And what exactly would I miss Delilah? The cold coffee? The missed memos? Or you coming in late and thinking I don’t notice?” With each question he thrust in and out, in and out, a harsh unforgiving tempo that his secretary should be used to by now.

She arched her back with a squeaking moan. “No, you’d miss this pussy. Nobody fucks you like I do Sir.” The final string keeping Maxwell together, the one that everybody seemed to tug and pluck all day finally snapped when Delilah her next words.

“Not even your bitch of a wife.”

Maxwell’s hips halted their assault against Delilah’s freckled skin, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the back of her head, the pregnant pause filled the air that made Delilah realize right as the words passed her lips she had fucked up.

She gasped when his hand wrapped tight around her throat and pulled her up off the desk and against his chest.

“Talk about my wife again, go ahead.” Maxwell growled out, Delilah opened her mouth but no sound came out as his fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around her throat until her face went from pale white to bright red, the cold metal of his wedding band cut into the soft skin of her neck, the pain hopefully proving to be an effective teacher . “I fucking dare you, you even mention Valerie one more fucking time and you’ll wish you never pulled your lazy ass through that door to apply for this goddamn job. You understand me?”

When he loosened his grip she nodded rapidly, taking in a shuddering breath. She looked over her shoulder at him, legs trembling and a pout on her swollen lips.

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out, voice hoarse from his dick and only made worse by his temper. His hand slid up her back before pushing her down on the desk where her body slammed down on the hard wood.

“I don’t care.”

Maxwell slid out of her before ramming back into her dripping cunt with zero grace, continuing to do so as his hands gripped her hips hard enough that he would surely leave behind bruises come the next day.

He thought about the way the same bruises would look on your hips.

Your neck.

Fuck, your chest.

Hearing you moan his name like a plea, a chant to God but Maxwell was one being worshiped. All the bite you showed him at work would melt away when he slid inside you with a groan. His fingers digging into the plush give of your ass while pounding into your sweet pussy that gripped him like a fucking vice.

“You love it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hair unkempt and falling in front of his eyes. “You fucking love it don’t you?”

You nodded numbly, gripping onto the table and just barely managing a weak moan. Maxwell’s hand came down on your ass in a stinging slap that made you shout. He didn’t care who outside his office heard you, Christ himself could be standing outside and that wouldn’t be enough to pull him from you.

“You speak when-” Maxwell groaned, doubling over your body and rutting into you like an animal. “You speak when you're fucking spoken to.”

Your back arched as his voice growled out against your neck. “I love it.” You fingers dragged against his mahogany desk that shook with each thrust. “I love it so fucking much.”

“I fucking know you do.” His hips stuttered against yours, hot waves of pleasure threatening to crash over him with every thrust, every bounce of your curls and every sweet coo of your voice. “You were made for just my cock, just for me. Weren’t you?”

“Just for you.” You panted. Your knees knocked together as he pushed you into the desk more with each selfish thrust of his cock. “All yours max, only yours.”

Maxwell’s hand slammed down on the table next to Delilah’s head as he came with a low groan. Delilah, feeling her own high slowly retreating, whined.

“Max please.” She begged. “I’m so close please just-” she squeaked at the feeling of her boss pulling out of her in record time as he cleaned himself up.

“How many times to I have to fucking tell you, address me as Mr.Lord or Sir-” his eyes cut down at her trembling form. “-or don’t bother speaking at all.”

Delilah pushed herself off his desk with a weak nod.

“Yes Mr.Lord.”

“Send a reminder to that archaeologist for this Friday.” Maxwell had already fastened his belt and taken seat at his desk once more, plucking the now disarrayed papers off the cool surface and shuffling them into a neat pile in his hands. He read them while he walked over to the bookshelf raised on the wall

“She seems like a ditz and I want to make sure this meeting doesn’t fall through.”

Delilah frowned, tilting her head to the side. A gesture some men may find charming if they were ten years younger and didn't run a fucking company that this idiot woman worked for.

“Archaeologist?”

“The mousy one that works at the museum.” He reminded her. “If you don’t remember at this point, that’s your own fault for only paying attention to the things I say when you’re on my dick.” Without looking up from the papers in his hand, Maxwell waved a hand in the direction of his office door.

“That will be all.”

Delilah bowed her head, whether to hide the bright blush on her face or angry tears, he didn’t know. And quite frankly?

He didn’t care.

He was already focused on the papers he skimmed, deals and mergers that could break other companies while making him a richer man.

At least that’s what he told himself while your voice was playing in his head like a broken record.

Angry, brown eyes left the paper to stare at an unopened bottle of whiskey on the shelf that stared back at him.

A wedding gift.

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on him as he forwent a glass and drank straight from the bottle in hopes of drowning all thoughts of you.

The bottle was halfway empty when he gave up.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #valerie lord #valerie lord x reader #ww 1984 #ww1984 #WW84 #wonder woman 1984 #ROOSASUT

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amylillian22 · 4 years ago

Text

What If I Never Get Over You (Part 3) - Chris Evans Imagine

Summary: It’s the day of Y/N and Cody’s wedding, and Chris has every intention to stop the love of his life marrying someone else.

Word Count: 2892

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, mentions of unable to carry children/get pregnant

Author's Note: Final chapter of the mini-series, and it was NOT easy to write. I wrote two completely different drafts before I decided THIS one was the perfect way to end it. I hope you like it.

[Part 1] /// [Part 2]

Chris sat in the back of the church in his best black suit. His heart ached as he watched Y/N in a beautiful white dress slowly walk down the aisle. A small part of him was hoping Y/N would look back at the crowd and see him sitting in the back row. It killed him knowing it wasn't him at the other end of the aisle. For years, he always knew Y/N was the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with, build a home with, and fill it up with as many kids as possible.

The pastor said, "If anyone can show cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Chris stood up from his seat and shouted, "I object!"

Except something came out. No one heard him. He tried again, but no one flinched at his words. He realized nothing came out, no matter how many times he opened his mouth and shouted. He got out of the pew and rushed towards Y/N. He literally stood in front of her and Cody, as they continued with the wedding as if he was invisible.

He fell down to his knees, feeling like he can't breathe as tears slowly fell down Chris' cheeks. He knew this was it. It was over for him as Y/N kissed her newly wedded husband.

Chris sat up from his bed, his chest heaving as he panted heavily. A sense of relief washed over him as he realized it was just a nightmare. The clock on his nightstand read 3:05AM. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He swung his legs over and carefully got out of bed.

In the dark, Chris made his way to the kitchen. He turned on the stove light to illuminate the kitchen as he made himself a cup of hot tea. He put a tea bag in his favorite mug before he watched a cup of water go in circles in the microwave. His mind drifted back to a moment he'll never forget three years ago.

The drive to the church wasn't far. Although Chris was speeding down the familiar streets of Boston, it felt like he was never gonna get there. Time was going by so slow and it didn't help that he had a million things running on his mind.

How does he stop a wedding? He's never witnessed one in real life. He's only seen them on movies and tv shows, but those have always been overly dramatic and unrealistic for his liking. His anxiety picked up as he wondered what the guest would say or do, how fast they would put it out on the social media world. For a split second, he worried what the headlines would say and what the whole world had to say.

He shook his head, letting his mind wonder about something more important. He wondered what he would do if she still didn't pick him, what if she goes on with the wedding and forever leaves Chris behind?

He slammed on the brakes in front of the church, not caring about parking in front of a No Parking Zone. He ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, and opened the double wooden doors. The lobby was empty for the most part except for one person who was on the phone. He ignored her and walked to the other set of doors that led to the main church. It wasn't empty, but it wasn't full either. A few people were fixing the decorations. Chris furrowed his eyebrows, he knew the wedding was starting soon. He wasn't early. The church should be filled with people.

Chris stopped a woman who walked towards his direction with a vase of flowers in her hands. "Excuse me, could you tell me where the bride's room is?"

"Sure. Go back out to the lobby, take a left. Then, go down the hall until you reach the fourth door on the right," she instructed.

"Thanks!" Chris quickly said before taking off to the bride's room.

It didn't take long to get there. He opened the door and was surprised to see it empty except for a girl standing in the middle of the room. She wore a black pencil skirt with a matching blazer. She spoke to her headset as she looked down at her clipboard, too focused on what was written while talking to someone on the other line.

Chris took a step towards her, causing her to look up and gasp. She placed a hand on her racing heart. "I'm sorry, there's someone here, I have to go. Chow!" She pressed the end button. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm looking for the bride," Chris said. "Any chance I can speak to her real quick? It's important."

"There is no bride."

Chris' heart dropped to his stomach. "I'm sorry, what?"

"She called off the wedding about an hour ago. My team and I are trying as quickly as we can to inform the guest. I'm sorry we didn't tell you any sooner to save yourself the trip," she said before she eyed him down. He wore a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a long sleeve, that showed off his very muscular arms. "But I'm guessing you weren't here to see the wedding," she said, knowing this wasn't the first wedding to be stopped by an ex.

"Okay, thanks," Chris pulled out his phone from his pocket as he walked out of the church. Luckily, no one hadn't towed his car or given him a ticket yet. He looked down at his phone, staring at her contact information. He hadn't called her since the break up. He doesn't even know if that's still her number. He dialed, his heart ready to explode out of his chest after each ring.

"Hello?" A guy spoke on the other line.

Chris didn't know who it was. "Is Y/N there?"

"You know, a lot of people ask for her, but you have the wrong number, dude. But I hope you find her, and if you do, can you tell her to tell everyone she knows she changed her number so they can stop calling me," the gentleman hung up, extremely annoyed that someone else had called for a woman he didn't even know.

Chris quickly got in the car and slowly drove off, not knowing where to go. He thought about going to her place, but he figured if he was in her situation, being at home is the last place he would want to be after calling off his own wedding.

She's not getting married, he kept thinking to himself. Tears welled up in his eyes as he was overwhelmed with mixed emotions. He wanted to find her and see what happened. He wanted to know why she called off the wedding. More importantly, he still wanted to tell her how much he still loves her.

Chris let out a high sigh as he pulled up to his driveway. He closed his eyes and rolled his head back on the headrest. He was grateful Scott offered to take Kayla for the day. It was bad enough he knew it was her wedding day, but somehow it felt worse that there was no wedding and he didn't know how to get a hold of her. He didn't know where she could be.

He stepped out of the car and walked around to the side entrance of his house. He stopped on his tracks when he saw Y/N sitting down on the steps, waiting for him. She looked up as she heard his footsteps. Chris immediately noticed her red, puffy eyes. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he wanted to run up to her, wrap his arms around her, kiss her, and never let her go again. Instead, he sat down next to her on the steps, waiting for her to say the first word.

"I called off the wedding," she finally said after a few minutes of silence. She couldn't look at him though. She was too scared to see his reaction.

"I know. I went to the church." She quickly turned her head to see him, her heart stopping at his words. He looked into her tear filled eyes and said, "I wanted to stop you from getting married."

She felt a small weight off her shoulders, a sense of relief that he didn't show up to the wedding to give her his best wishes. But, she still had some questions and she still needed some answers.

"Why did you do it, Chris?" Her voice cracked.

Chris looked away from her, knowing she wasn't asking about why he showed up to the church. She was referring to what happened years ago. He wasn't gonna sugar coat it. He also didn't want to elaborate on the details more than he needed to.

"I was overwhelmed with everything going on at the time. I hadn't seen you in almost a year. That was the longest we had never gone without seeing each other. One night, I was feeling extra lonely and I got drunk at a party with the cast and crew, and then..." Chris stopped, unable to say the next words, but Y/N knew exactly what happened next. Chris closed his eyes and shook his head, mad at himself for what he did.

"I didn't tell you at first when it happened." Chris noticed the shock expression on her face, but continued on with the story. "Because it meant nothing. It didn't mean anything to me. When she told me she was pregnant a couple of months later, I didn't believe her. She agreed to do a DNA test. Turns out, she was right. Kayla is mine."

Y/N noticed his lips forming a smile as he said the last sentence for a few minutes before it vanished.

"But now, I can't say I regret what happened and I wished it had never happened, because then I wouldn't have Kayla."

Y/N heart broke a little bit. Since they dated in high school, she knew how much Chris wanted to be a father and have a big family. It killed her that she couldn't give him that.

"It was easier to break up with you then to tell you the truth. I thought it would hurt less to break up with you than finding out I cheated and having a baby with someone else. I knew the truth wasn't gonna get out there because Abby and I agreed we were going to keep Kayla as quiet as possible. We didn't want the media to constantly be harassing an innocent child. It's worked so far. No one knows I'm a father. People think she's one of my nieces' friends when I take them all out together."

Y/N nodded completely understanding why Chris kept Kayla away from the public. A part of her was really impressed he's managed to keep it a secret this long.

"Y/N," he looked into her eyes. "These are not excuses. It doesn't justify what I did wrong. I know what I did was wrong and completely unforgivable. So unforgivable, I still haven't forgiven myself for it."

Chris buried his face in his hands, unable to look at her. He was too scared about what would happen next. What would she say? He couldn't watch her walk away if she decided she still wants nothing to do with him.

"Chris..." he heard the sadness and brokenness in her small voice. "There's a reason why we didn't see each other that year. That's my fault. I purposely made it impossible not to see you."

He looked up at her. Her eyes welled up with tears. The sad look on her face made his heart race in fear.

"Why?" Was all he could say.

"At the beginning of my tour, I noticed I was late. I thought maybe I was pregnant. I had my assistant set up an appointment in Houston since we had only one extra day off. Turns out, I wasn't pregnant-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Chris asked. "I would have been there for you-"

"Because you were filming. I knew they wouldn't let you leave and take days off, even if you are Captain America."

"That still doesn't explain why we didn't see each other for a whole year," he said.

Tears fell down her cheek. "The doctor said there was no way I could be pregnant because I didn't have any eggs. She says it's very rare for a young woman to lose all her eggs, but it's possible." Y/N paused for a second as the pain in her heart grew. "I couldn't see you knowing I couldn't give you what you wanted most in life, Chris. I made sure I agreed to any and all new dates added to the tour, which led to having a European tour right after our American tour. It was easier to run away from you than to tell you I can't give you your dream."

She finally let go and sobbed, Chris immediately engulfed her in his arms, crying with her knowing how much this was killing her. As a father now, he can't fathom the idea of not being able to have kids, let alone the love of his life unable to bear his children.

He cried with her as he held her tight. He wanted to take away all the pain she's dealt with since she found out. He wished he had been there for her, to reassure her everything would be fine and they would figure something out together.

"I'm sorry, Chris," she pulled back and looked at his broken blue eyes.

"I'm sorry too," he said.

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulder as he held her hand in his, enjoying this moment together- being able to touch her and hold her.

"Why were you going to stop my wedding?" Y/N asked after a few minutes of silence.

Chris let out a deep breath. "I couldn't let you get married without knowing I never got over you," he said without hesitation. He looked down at her. "Why did you call off the wedding?"

"Chris, I never got over you," she admitted. "No matter how hard I tried, I never stopped loving you."

Chris leaned forward and released the butterflies in her stomach the second he kissed her. She didn't waste a second to kiss him back as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Chris' hands moved to her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. The kiss was deep and passionate, making up for lost time.

They pulled back with their foreheads pressing against each other. Y/N cupped Chris' cheek as she looked deep into his ocean blue eyes. Chris' grip tightened on her waist, too scared to let her go.

"Where do we go from here?" She whispered against his lips.

"Hey." A soft voice pulled Chris out of his memory. He turned around to see Y/N walking towards him in his shirt. "What are you doing up, babe? It's late."

Chris sighed and wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist, pulling her closer to his chest. "Horrible nightmare. I couldn't sleep," he buried his face at the crook of her neck.

"Aww, babe," she cooed as she ran her fingers through his soft hair. Her other hand slowly ran up and down his back, trying to soothe him. "Wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head. "No. I rather focus on right now, my reality, because it's so much better." He licked his lips before gently and softly peppered her neck with soft kisses. His lips trailed up to her jaw before capturing her lips for a deep and passionate kiss. His hands moved down to her butt. He gave it a gentle squeeze before he grabbed her butt firmly as she jumped and wrapped her legs around his hips.

"I love you, so much," he said in between kisses.

She pulled back to look at him. With her left hand, she pushed his hair back, taking in every one of his features for the millionth time. She loved the way his blue eyes sparked and the way they looked when he was in awe with her every time his eyes locked with hers. Her fingertips traced his well structured jaw, his beard tickling her in the process. She smiled at him as she rested her hand above his heart. She felt it thundering against his bare chest. Her smile grew wider as she stared at the silver wedding band on her wedding finger.

Her eyes flickered up, "are you sure you're not nervous about tomorrow?"

"No. I'm ready. I'm actually very excited. Are you nervous?"

"A little bit," she admitted with a smile. "But I'm more excited. We're flying out to pick up a baby. Our baby."

Chris' eyes welled up as the day had finally arrived after years of going through the long and hard process of adopting.

"I love you, so damn much," he said.

"I love you too," she whispered against his lips before she kissed him.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans fan fiction #Chris Evans x reader

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morphituu · 5 years ago

Text

Milagro

Chapter 22: Rehearsals

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21

“Maaaama, mi amore- say mama,” Callie encouraged, her shirt clasped in Leo’s hold and a wide smile clamped around a melting teething chewy. The round, golden eyes locked on Callie still glimmered with unshed tears after waking from a nap following a sharp tooth breaking through his gums, but now his short legs kicked excitedly when she squealed like he after some numbing gel was lathered across his swollen pads.

“Oh my osito,” she sang, giggling when his staticky voice spiked into an excited shriek after she laid him across her chest. With any luck he'd catch the last of his afternoon nap and not completely derail his schedule the night before they left him. With one hand rhythmically patting his bottom in tune with a gentle song she hummed, the nails of her other dragged down his thick stripe of sandy colored locks, thick and tangled as hers always was.

Leo’s sleepy growls wound down to soft grunts, his little mouth pursing when he sucked on his tongue.

Her bottom lip quivered. To think she'd go four days without kissing this face or hearing his voice almost made her call off their already brief honeymoon despite desperately needing the break, not to mention the alone time she so craved from her husband to be. Quickies were fun in the moment, but when she'd have to walk right back out and balance Leo on her hip and a stack of laundry and dishes in the other arm, the yearn for a quiet, post-sex cuddle session resounded loudly in her bones.

“You know we’ll be back, right Leonardo? You won't even notice us you'll have so much fun with abuela y abuelo,” she smiled, recalling all of the toys Oleg had gone out to purchase in preparation for his grandson's extended visit, excitedly sending pictures to Nick every time he found something new.

Callie giggled, her eyes drifting up. She gasped softly, looking down at Leo. “Guess who's back?”

Her door swung open and Leo’s head craned back to find Nick placing their contribution to the dinner at her feet, a smile spreading across his gummy face immediately.

“What's with those sad eyes?” Nick pouted, reaching for Leo.

“His tooth broke through,” she handed him over, their son rubbing his tired eyes against Nick’s chest after being leaned into the crook of his beefy arm. Nick groaned, rubbing Leo’s back.

“I feel bad we're taking off right when this starts,”

“Me too,” Callie sighed, pushing her messy hair back from her face. “I keep rethinking it,”

Nick’s head lifted with a pout. “You don't wanna go anymore then?”

She exhaled loudly, shaking her head. “I really wanna go but I don't think the guilt will go away so I just gotta suck it up and deal with it,”

“We’ll only be a few hours away,” he reassured, a comforting squeeze left on her knee before he carried Leo to the backseat. Nick wiggled his face between Leo’s round cheek and shoulder to elicit bubbly giggles, his affections unyielding even after his son was safely strapped in his seat again, not until Callie reminded him that they were needed elsewhere.

A final squish of his cheeks, and Nick was off to the drivers seat again.

“Let’s do this,” he chimed, the dark clubmasters hiding the excited glint in his yellow eyes.

The weather was ideal for the windows to stay down, a soft breeze drifting through the cab that neither worried about overwhelming Leo as long as the traffic stayed this slow, but neither minded that, either. Nothing- not even that Callie’s dress had been delivered with a rip in the seam, could dampen their moods that day.

For weeks, more notably the sleepless nights they'd planned this and endless trial and error from music to food to seating, keeping enough excitement alive until their day came, and through rejections from churches that deemed their union unholy to now having a backyard wedding at his parents that a shocking number of family wasn't arriving to, they were here, the day before their wedding, and Callie couldn't shake the warmth that had held in her cheeks all day.

The butterflies fluttered about her stomach, bubbling in her throat when she tried to speak. As usual he held her hand while they drove, but now more than ever he toyed with her singular ring that would soon have it’s pair. When they stood in line to pick up Leo’s fitted outfit, he brought her decorated hand up to his lips to kiss shamelessly before the humans that rolled their eyes in disgust, further stirring the churning excitement before she leaned into his side to hide her blush.

Callie’s head landed against his arm rested over the center console, his big hand landing on her leg. Nick kissed her head while he drove, his thumb tracing the supple skin of her freckled thigh.

Callie grinned then. “I hope this song plays tomorrow,” she noted the raunchy beat bumping softly through the speakers.

Nick snorted. “Someone's uncle is gonna grind on someone's aunt,”

She giggled harmoniously, her face rotating in to hide against his bicep. Nick egged her on, the dirty comments flushing her cheeks and leaving her breathless as they drove leisurely along the backroads. At red lights he made it a point to steal kisses, his hand leaving the steering wheel to hold her jaw when a taste of her tongue became too tempting to refuse. They were honked at a few times, but Nick blew them off, telling his pretty fiancée “this is why we should've put the cans on the truck today”.

Their bantering settled enough to let silence pass between them, listening to Leo babble against his crinkly blanket or exclaim when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

“Did Ward tell you what you guys are doing tonight?” she asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder when it whipped before her face.

“He won’t even give me a hint,” Nick huffed, endlessly worried they’d end up at a strip bar. “What about Rosie?”

“Just a girls night at her house,” she shrugged, hiding her excitement. A night to kick back with her feet up and gossip? With unproblematic people? It’s fucking paradise, she’d clarified to Nick when he was confused as to why bachelorette parties weren’t rambunctious like the mens. “I’m not drinking until the reception though,”

“Is it the Orkish champagne?”

She moaned, her eyes closing as saliva pooled in her mouth. “Forget the food, just hand me another glass of it when mine is empty,”

“One glass will have you on your ass, mama,” he reminded, peeking at her from over his clubmasters.

“Good thing my husband will be there to carry me away from the judging eyes of the public,” she said, her chin balancing on his shoulder as he pulled into his parents' driveway. The street was lined with their guests, the chatter from the backyard heard over their engine.

“Only because my wife is the fairest in all of LA,”

She pouted. “Just LA?”

“Who even matters outside of LA?” he asked.

“You’re right.” She leaned in for a quick kiss.

The pair went about gathering Leo from his seat and his numerous bags they’d store tonight in preparation for the following day, including a bouncer and swing. He was excited as ever when Callie lifted him from behind the buckles, the teething toy in his grasp. It took only three months for Leo to reach a girth that Callie could carry on her hip like a six month old, his head unwaveringly steady and held upright as he learned the world around him. Their pediatrician warned he’d fly through milestones faster than they could record, so when Leo started angrily gnawing on their hands and crying through the night, it took them some time to figure out he was simply teething when they’d normally not expect it until later. Moments were cherished with greater excitement after they realized how quickly Leo was growing, and how brief this baby stage would be.

It wasn’t until they’d at last received the results of his genetics test were they able to find some peace of mind knowing when he’d hit a year, this rapid aging would slow drastically.

Being seventy-six percent Orc meant doctors felt confident leaning towards the likelihood that Leo’s growth would match that of a full-blooded one, but the moments remained bittersweet for the parents. In the blink of an eye Leo went from being a wiggling newborn to a hefty calf able to sit up on his own and mimic their mouths when they spoke to him.

His yellow eyes tracked and narrow in on objects he wanted, his colored hands able to pick items, and Nick’s ear was always on the menu of items he loved to gnaw on.

At the call of his name he’d turn his head, and a smile would grace his lips when it was either of his parents. Callie would walk from corner to corner with him between her feet, his grasp tight around her fingers and his feet dragging less everyday he built up the muscles of his strong legs. When he’d be done from such an exerting exercise, a frown up at Callie would signal his reluctance to waddle any farther.

The pouts and angry chuffs were Nick’s favorite. He’d gnaw Leo’s thighs and roll him side to side just to see his little face snarl, a sharp cry rattling in his throat before he’d clamp onto Nick’s arm. Now that the sharp fangs were coming in, he found instigating a fight with his vicious little boy wasn’t in his best interest. It had only taken a few times for Leo to learn if he laid over his dad’s head, he was further defenseless, including those ears.

“Ah!” Leo exclaimed, reaching over Callie’s shoulder towards Nick. “Ahh!” he cracked again, looking at Callie.

“He’s comin’, don’t worry,” she assured, his chuff tickling her ear.

The door was cracked open upon walking up to it, and inside the furniture was already being moved around to create more space to linger around in.

“Late to her own rehearsal!” came Oleg’s booming voice, strutting in false intimidation from the hallway, but his angry scowl melted into a wide smile once Leo recognized him and reached.

“Is everyone here?”

“The booze went quickly,” he teased, walking toward the back of the house with Leo excitedly squealing in his grandpa’s arms.

“That’s what happens when you get Orcs and Mexicans together,” Nick commented, grunting his way in with all the bags slung across his arms and shoulders.

“They didn’t drink the champagne, did they?” Callie frantically asked, following Oleg and leaving Nick to topple over with Leo’s luggage.

Nick and Ward both sipped their beers alongside Matuk and Sergey, the summer sun having been unbearable until Dinara silenced the mens whining and dished out the cold drinks. But the sun still kept glaring down at them even as it drew near sunset, their shirts sticking to their skin and hunger growing. Dura had been the only one to be blessed with a chair at the front, her belly near bursting as her due date approached.

“Pay attention,” Dura hissed at Sergey, fanning her face with her sun hat.

“All I do is stand here-” he hissed back, silencing when Ward elbowed him.

“Can you shut the fuck up she’s about to come down,” Ward growled, jabbing his hand in the direction of the house.

“We’ve done this eight times, why do we need to be quiet?”

“He’s right, there’s no point,” Nick answered loudly, sipping his beer.

Ward glared at him in disbelief. “At your own rehearsal?”

“Look, they’re talking,” he pointed to Callie’s mom who sat beside Dyani and Joaquin, Leo and his mother coming to join them once she’d finished walking down the mock isle.

“Okay music, yada yada everyone stands, then Callie,” Dinara called, tip-toeing around the line of bridesmaids to stand beside Nick at the front.

It was just the rehearsal, and there was nothing to match how spectacular and dreamy it would be the following day, but Nick still smiled watching her walk down like that, a glowing smile on her face and hanging onto her father's arm. Nick tossed a kiss to her before she was even there, tipping his bottle back over his lips to hide a nervous smile when she winked at him.

For the eighth time, Nick shook Diego’s hand and accompanied Callie back to their spot at the front, his actions growing clumsier with every round.

“Pre-gaming?” she asked, smiling at Nick’s loose nod. She was sure his eyes were half-lidded behind his sunglasses.

“Okay dearly beloved and all that, they exchange vows, beads, rings and kiss,” Dinara recited from the front with Leo still in her arms, wiggling towards Nick when he made faces at him. He stopped only to peck Callie sweetly, snatching his son from his mother's arms. “And we’re done,”

There was a collective sigh of approval from everyone placed about in the wide yard, all of which were starved for the cool drinks and savory dinner laid out under the shade of the patio.

Sergey stumbled to Dura’s side and only laughed when she scolded him for already drinking himself into a cloud, but Callie was there to loop her arm around the expectant mother’s and assist in her waddle across the yard. Nick and Ward picked Sergey back up, leaving hard slaps on his back while they teased him over being a lightweight.

“I hope Morn feels better by tomorrow,” Callie pouted, feeling her friend's absence.

“She kicks shit fast, she’ll be good,” Ward answered. It was useless denying they’d become quite cozy with one another, especially when Nick had stopped by unexpectedly to find her wandering around Daryl’s house in his shirt. It was a sensitive topic, but Callie thought it sweet how lovingly he spoke of Morn when she wasn’t around. There was always the hint of a longing sigh somewhere in his words, a hardened pout pushing his mustache up.

“Was it a stomach bug? Daryl wasn’t feeling too good either,” Rosie noted, following her ear into their conversation.

“Was Dejza sick too?”

“Yeah I think that’s where she got the bug from. Grandparents wanted to see her,” Ward explained, finding a spot beside Nick once they all came up to the table. Leo perched on Nick’s thigh, reaching over to tap Callie’s arm so she’d talk to him as the others found their seats. The chatter of Callie and Nick’s chosen family was lively among their friends, the last minute preparations or concerns rising into question and then settling quickly. Food was passed through mouths as fast as the words, the plates filling just to empty minutes later for seconds and thirds. The men of Nick’s bachelor party were ordered to lay off the beer and instead fill up on food before their night of celebration and farewell, waving off their disapproving groans and wails.

By the time they were all dug into their meals, Leo was drifting in Nick’s arms with a bottle balanced on his chest, at last catching a nap to soothe away the throbbing in his gums they’d managed to mostly keep at bay all day with the chaos swarming around them.

When Leo spat out the bottle and rubbed his face, Nick took a final bite of the crispy pork ribs to lean back in his chair and cradle his son closer to his chest, a wide palm patting his bottom. Soft chuffs were the last of Leo’s attempts at consciousness before Nick’s purring did him in, his big eyes finally sliding shut.

Nick was lost staring at his son when Ward suddenly came into view, his ear almost close enough to press against his shoulder.

Ward snapped up, mild disbelief coloring his expressions. “Are you… vibrating?”

Callie laughed out loud, covering her mouth filled with food.

“Does Morn not purr?” Nick asked, Ward leaning away from him.

“P-purring? Y’all… purr?” he looked up hesitantly at the other Orcs around him who were unphased by his discovery.

“Does Morn really not?”

“No! I think I’d know if I heard somethin’ like that!” Ward exclaimed, returning to his meal with a shudder.

“I bet she does n’ it just puts you to sleep,” Sergey added, talking around a corn on the cob.

Daryl looked back to Nick. “Sophia always told me she reminded her of a cat and I thought it was cuz of the ears n’ shit,”

The table chuckled at that, their laughter heightening when Daryl again leaned into Nick’s chest to listen to the rumbles, even placing a hand flat on him to make sure it wasn’t some elaborate prank. The fervent manner in which everyone devoured the food calmed into small pickings here and there and the low rumble of chatter filling the backyard, everyone in their separate conversations or stories until Dinara pulled Nick's attention away from Callie and Rosie who spoke so fast, it only sounded like clicking.

“Ukmall, you’ll need to be here before eight to get Leo,” she informed, and his brows furrowed.

“So early?” he groaned, having fully expected a few hours to sleep off a hangover.

“Callie needs to get her hair done. The fumes are bad for him,” she scolded, and he looked back to his bride.

“You’re changing your hair?” he questioned with big eyes.

“Just a little bit,” she smiled, internally screaming. She’d come to this decision to alter her hair after talking herself out of going entirely blonde despite her curiosity for years pulling her the other direction, but now she wondered if he’d even notice.

“I guess I can get him,” he griped, leaning down to kiss Leo when Callie and his mother sucked their teeth in discontent.

“What time are people arriving?” Callie asked around Nick.

“Three, so we have a lot to do and a lot of cooking before people start showing up. That being said,” she grunted, standing at the head of the table with her glass of sweet tea raised. “I’d like to propose a toast and a thanks,”

Everyone hushed, reaching for their variety of drinks to hold up.

“We want to extend our thanks to Callie’s family who have graciously accepted us in, not to mention our son who came with a reputation,” she gestured at Nick, the table chuckling. “To everyone who’s helped and put up with my screaming,” she admitted to bashfully. “To my son, who I knew would be the father his own raised him to be, and now the husband I always knew he could be,” she smiled lovingly at Nick, his own grin goofy and adoring. Callie rubbed his arm, squeezing his wrist affectionately.

“And to Callie,” she cleared her throat, raising her glass. Callie’s smile dropped when she looked up, her anxiousness kicking into high gear. “It’s because of you my son smiled again, and it’s with your help he’s shown that beautiful baby in his arms such love. You weren’t only a gift in his life, but ours too, and no matter the paths you both might take from here on out, you’ll always have a place in our family. Cheeruk, mausan daughavas. Lat've bleukukun avhiuk famipak.” She finalized, her glass raised and Oleg following suit.

“I’d like to also say something,” Diego stood creakily, his age at last catching up to him after decades of back breaking work. He smoothed his hand down his church shirt, lifting his glass. “Mija, you haven’t always had the best of luck when it came to men, and to be honest I would’ve pulled my hair out if you had brought home another white boy,” he chuckled, the table following suit as Callie hid her face in despair. “But now I can rest easier at night knowing you have a man I would’ve hand-picked for you specially,” he tipped his head at Nick, the orc nodding once in return even though he was inwardly elated.

“I’m sorry the ones you were told growing up were your family didn’t make it here, but it’s their loss, cariña. If they can’t grow as much as you, let them leave. You’ve always been better than them. Nick,” he turned, startling his daughter’s groom.

“Thank you. You’re the standard I raised my daughters to expect, so thank you for taking care of her and Leonardo. I only want forever for you two.” He finished, his free hand resting on Luciana’s shoulder as she looked on at her daughter with watery eyes.

“I second that!” Rosie declared, Santi’s glass following his sister only to spill across the table's surface and onto her plate.

Her cheeks were hidden in her palms when they toasted, Dinara’s words whispered in translation into her ear by Nick after drinking to their parents speeches. He kissed her flushed cheek, promising the sincerity of her words. Her eyes wandered while Nick adored her secretly, watching their parents take turns hugging and speaking with smiles plastered across their faces. It helped ease some of the burns she’d been dealt when her family started RSVPing just to say they wouldn’t attend, and she wondered how much of it was because of Leo and how much was because of their choice to marry. Either way, she knew now who to keep up with.

The couple was dragged from their steamy bubble of secret kisses and whispers when Ward elbowed Nick insistently until he turned, motioning his head toward the door, but his hairless brows drew together.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, noting Ward’s lighter complexion.

He shook his head, waving his hand. “Drank too much,”

“They took our drinks-”

“Man let’s go!”

Nick turned back to Callie, a loose smile curling her lips.

“Is it time?” she asked, and he nodded, leaning in for another lengthy kiss. “If I get a call from Jake that one of his girls is shaking their asses in your face I’m gonna make sure you can’t make anymore babies,” she warned quietly, trying not to laugh when he gagged.

“I hid a nanny cam in the house so if I see a male stripper shoving his junk in your face I’m gonna throw you in the ocean,” Nick cracked back.

“I can’t swim!” she giggled, trying to frown.

“Yeah, you’ve been warned,” he kissed her before she could respond. “I love you, have a good night and be safe,”

“You be good,” she reminded, pursing her lips for another kiss before he lowered Leo into her arms and smooched him goodbye. “No tequila,”

He sucked air through his teeth, pointing at her. “I can’t promise that,” and he was off, following the others into the house after kissing his mom on the head. They grew rowdy once separated from their lovers except Matuk who was as stoic as ever, and they could be heard causing a commotion all the way to the cars until they were off.

“Ten bucks says they don’t make it past midnight,” Rosie announced.

“Make it twenty,” Oleg raised his beer, his bright smile tightening when Dinara elbowed him in the side before making her way over to Callie as the rest of their guests found separate conversations to delve into.

“Callie, I’d like to show you something we picked up today,” she said under her breath, tugging on her elbow.

“Oh?” she piped, tapping Rosie’s shoulder so she could deposit her hefty son into her arms. Rosie doted over him lovingly, endless kisses pressed into his cheeks as he was roused from his nap, but that would be her problem, now. By the time Leo was awake and gnawing angrily into his tia’s cheeks in retaliation, Dinara had led Callie into her room where the bed was lined with pressed and covered clothing, some decorations and linens hung over the small bench at the end. Callie wandered, her hands gravitating towards the colorful flowers protected in plastic boxes.

“Here, look,” Dinara called from the desk at the corner of the room.

The small lamp was flipped on when Callie was at her side, watching as she lifted the lid from a silver box carefully, but upon removing the satin material protecting whatever was underneath, her hands moved even more gingerly than before until a shining, silver plate looked up at them. Orkish letters were carved deep into its face, but the polished grooves were clean, elegant.

“Marriage Armor, it’s called. The bride wears the plate with her new name upon her back and the groom wears the bride's zodiac on his shoulders and chest,” she explained, a smaller pouch that she had in the top drawer of the desk emptying into Callie’s palm. The charms were attached to thin, dainty chains, and carved from a deep, grey metal shaped into bull heads.

Callie smiled, studying their details. “Nick will wear these?”

“Mhm. You’ll both wear the bracelets that are exchanged, but those are kept for the day of. Right now we need to get this on you to make sure it fits,” she explained, opening the pouch so Callie could deposit the charms back inside.

The ‘armor’ had length to it she at first couldn’t see between the satin covers. Her own sparkling chains braided across the shoulders as one long, jeweled piece ran the length of her back, stretching from the plate that spelled Jakoby. When Dinara had it balanced on her shoulders so she could clasp it at her front, she saw where the chains came together into the shape of the Taurus symbol. With delicacy she touched the pieces on her shoulders and at the center of her chest while it was adjusted at her back, her smile beaming. It was heavy- this was definitely some special mineral, for she’d never seen one of such weight be polished finely enough to catch even the smallest glimmer of these dim lights.

“Tomorrow you’ll glow during that sunset,” Dinara smiled, tugging the chains at either side of her shoulders. “Poor Nick will be so blindsided we might have to give his men a heads up,”

They giggled, Callie’s smile wavering when Dinara held her hands tightly, staring at her with glossy eyes. “These plates are traditional. A male’s mother hands them down to his bride if she approves, so these should have come from my own mother in law, but they didn’t,”

Callie’s smile fell. “What?”

“Oleg’s mother hates me. She wanted her boy to have the smiling, waxy wife who pops babies out like rats. So I had these made the day before we were married, and I wore them in front of her,” she grinned.

“Reclaimed the name?” Callie smirked.

Dinara nodded. “It’s a good name despite the reputation that came with it when you met my son,”

Callie only hugged her, their arms tightly wound one another in that moment. “Thank you,” she said, giving her a last squeeze before they both wiped their cheeks of any stray tears.

“Well it fits,” she giggled before the two got her out of the intricate chains and back into the sleek box.

“Come on then,” the orc sniffled, turning the light off. “Let’s finish the night.”

↠

Nick’s hand still hadn’t come down from shielding his eyes, but as long as Ward was emptying his dinner and three beers onto Sergey’s lawn, he wasn’t going to even bother glancing at him. His excitement had drained the entire two hours it took to get here, it’s gradual drip starting as soon as they’d left his parents.

“I’m fine, I just drank too fast,” were the kind of things Ward kept saying to excuse his deteriorating, sweating form, but Nick knew he’d heard him heaving into the toilet after calling Morn to ask exactly what she’d come down with. Still, he insisted he was fine the entire duration it took him to shower and change before they headed to Sergey’s next, but by the time they’d gotten in the car, Sergey was starting to look worse for wear, too.

As soon as the car had come to a stop, both of them were falling out, one running into the house and the other making it to the lawn before he lost his composure. Now, Nick was alone in this filthy mess after Matuk had ditched them, but Nick hadn’t expected him to go, really. Bachelor parties didn’t seem like his thing even though there was nothing to celebrate anymore.

“Juh- just gimme a min-” Ward choked, retching loudly.

“For three months I’ve dealt with puke almost daily,” Nick explained calmly, his eyes still hidden.

Daryl coughed.

“You’ve been hyping me up for this for weeks,”

Ward nodded, spit hanging off his bottom lip. “I’no,”

Nick dropped his hand and sighed when thirty seconds had passed- the longest yet- without him heaving, and he couldn't help laugh a little. Ward wasn’t the kind of person to ever show vulnerability even when he was hurt, so seeing him hunched over and whimpering meant taking a few photos should’ve been his top priority, but Nick showed mercy on his friend while the other was lost somewhere in his house likely calling Dura to cry.

“C’mon,” Nick groaned, lifting Ward’s limp body off the ground.

“I need t’go to Morn's,” he grunted, walking unsteadily beside him.

“She can come get you after I drop you off,” Nick used his lighter voice, clearing his throat when he realized what he was doing. “Sit down,”

Ward instead flopped into the backseat, exclaiming when his head smacked the door panel. He continued to wail when Nick used his foot to push his feet in, flinching at how loudly he protested.

“Jesus now I know why Sherri was such a bitch,” Nick mumbled, closing the door before Ward could scream at him. “Stay there,” he knocked against the window, turning towards the house. “Let me go check the other child…”

What started as Nick’s bachelor party he had looked forward to for weeks, had turned into a mini-pandemic between the parties involved- thank god they left his parents house when they did- and had resulted in Nick getting one giant man baby into bed with clean clothes after he was found on his bathroom floor, and cleaning the puke out of Ward’s car when he voided even more of himself while waiting. It hadn’t come without a cold scolding from Nick, demanding to know why he couldn’t have opened the door beside his head if he had enough power to sit up and spray everywhere, but Ward stopped listening when the words became languages he didn’t know.

He hollered and gagged the entire way back to driving Daryl home, bursting from the car as soon as he was parked, but that only meant helping clean this one up too.

After nearly three hours of scrubbing, and gagging, and screaming, Nick sat on Ward’s porch waiting for his Uber, a cold beer in hand. No amount of air freshener or borrowed cologne would mask the raw stench of vomit under his nails and on his clothes. He’d likely throw these away- his nose was too keen to allow back into his closet. Too bad; he really liked this shirt.

Night had at last crept over LA, leaving only a soft orange glow where the sun had slipped from. The night was humid, but cool, and the woven chair he sat in wasn’t half bad.

He looked at his phone, tracking the driver who was coming down the street.

He’d made the move multiple times to message Callie, but he couldn’t bring himself to halt her night, either. If she hadn’t messaged him about anything, that meant no sickness had befallen them either, right? Maybe they’d been lucky to avoid catching it from Daryl. He texted his mom at least, warning of a stomach bug floating around and to keep a closer eye on Leo.

A compact little sedan rolled up, and Nick groaned. Now he had to squeeze into that.

What am I even gonna do all night… he pondered, walking towards the car. He chuckled. Sleep.

Nick slipped in the open door, closing it noisily behind himself before spinning the bolt shut. His palm popped up just as he smacked his inner arm, his keys flying onto the counter and sliding noisily across its surface.

Never, not even after his most grueling days at the academy or after an even more grueling workout did he ever desire a shower and sleep like this moment, kicking his shoes off excitedly.

“Nick?”

He froze, his head half in the cabinets looking for something to take with him. Nick leaned out of the kitchen entry, his ears twitching. Was that…?

“Cal?” he called back warily.

“Maybe,” she called back, and he was off towards the bedroom he hadn’t even noticed had been shut.

The TV was mumbling lowly with her favorite show, but she wasn’t on the bed like he expected. Instead, sitting on the carpet on a folded blanket surrounded by her phone and wires that made up her headphones and charger with a pre-roll between her fingers, he found her sitting beside the cracked sliding glass door so the smoke could wisp out into the night.

Her eyes were just as wide as his, the pair speechless.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, almost afraid to move. Where’s Leo?

“What are you doing here?” she returned, knowing he’d seen the joint in her hold.

“Ward and Sergey-”

“Got sick?” she interrupted, her mouth tightening. He nodded, snorting.

“The girls too?”

She nodded, relaxing a little bit. “I thought you were off already doing the bachelor party thing so I just came home… and left Leo with your parents,”

“Yeah I didn’t call them either,” he confided softly, licking his bottom lip.

“So…” she looked around. Why was this so awkward!?

Nick watched her, leaned back on his hands after pulling a fresh shirt over his scrubbed skin. His head lolled to the side, watching her at last let out the insane breath she’d pulled in. The smoke from this one smelled foul compared to the scented trails from a cartridge, but he wouldn’t speak out against it.

By the time he’d come out of the shower, she had gone through half its length and her eyes were already falling shut. Eight months of sobriety brought her tolerances way down, but this was also the first time in months he hadn’t seen her chewing her inner lips or bouncing her knee. What a wonderful remedy this was, but the stigma attached to it would always leave Nick hesitant.

“That wine is gonna knock you out tomorrow,” he mumbled, grinning when she swatted sleepily at his foot.

“I thought we already agreed you’d catch me,” she reminded, twisting the butt in the ashtray before looking at him.

“Only if I can get really shit faced in San Diego,” he whined, and she laughed.

“Duh, me too,”

He smiled, watching her fidget around on the blanket and fix her hair hanging around her shoulders. She looked down at the ring on her hand, smiling adoringly at its face then clutching her palm to her chest. Soft humming came from her, a soft sway back and forth starting.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, knowing she’d fallen into her dreamy haze.

Callie shrugged, looking up at him. Those balmy eyes were glowing, her cheeks flushing. “I can’t believe we’re getting married tomorrow. It feels like it’s taken decades to get here but it’s only been… pfft three years? And now we have our baby?” she pouted, holding her own face.

“Wow,” Nick mumbled, smiling at her in amusement.

“I shouldn’t have left him there, I need to call your parents-”

“Cal,” he called, catching her frantic eyes. “He’s fine. Take a breath,”

She paused before nodding, sighing instead of taking an appropriate breath.

“I wanna be on whatever planet you’re on,” his words nudged her away from that guilt, a little smile lifting his spirits when he worried about her mental state. Sometimes the break-through anxiety was sneaky.

Her brow perked up, her smile growing devious.

“I can’t,” he reiterated.

“You can,”

“I can’t,”

“It would be out of your system in two days. We’ll be back way after that,” she too reminded him of the miraculous gift that was an Orcs metabolism, but Nick was a faithful worker and had his own, brittling views on the earth-made herb she relied on. “You didn’t get enough that first time,”

“It tastes like ass,” he defended, growing weary when Callie sashayed towards him with the ashtray and lighter pinned under her palm. “It makes my lips dry,”

“I’m not stopping until I hear ‘no’,” she clarified, sitting between his spread legs stretched across the floor and lighting the end of the blunt.

Still, Nick remained silent, watching her suck in her own small hit until the embers were crackling at the end. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to,” she told him, sensing his hesitation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. If he liked the buzz from drinking, he was sure he’d like the buzz from smoking, but his encounters in the past not to mention the particular one that had left him in a room full of laughing people during a bad trip left bitter emotions.

But he trusted Callie when reminding him she’d never do such a thing, and she trusted her when she said, “You’ll like it,”

“And I’ve seen how jittery you’ve been,” she noted, patting the hand that had moved to rest on her thigh when he sat forward.

“Who wouldn’t be?” he asked, pinching the shrinking joint between his fingers when she passed it. Then she sat back on her bottom, crossing her legs.

“It’s your decision, baby. I want you to have a good time but not if you’re uncomfortable,” she told him, knowing even in her bombed state that despite Nick accepting this more over the years and his own curiosity growing, pressuring someone wasn’t how you did it.

He rolled it a little bit between his fingers, glancing at her with his critical, yellow eyes.

Ugh, he’s so yummy-

“How long do I hold my breath?” his voice disrupted her thoughts.

“As long as you can,”

Nick sighed, looking at it one last time. “Fuck it, why not,”

Callie’s eyes widened every second he kept inhaling, caught between warning him and possibly making him panic or letting him get one huge drag in instead of coughing through a bunch of little ones, but by the time she decided, he was done. Silent, holding his breath, his eyes already watering when he handed it back.

Without looking she snuffed it out, waiting. “Nick?”

He exhaled loudly, a cloud of smoke blowing around her that she swatted towards the cracked door. The coughing started before he even finished his breath, the next one bubbling up his throat before the previous one finished. His throat and nose burned, and he could’ve sworn he felt his trachea vibrating with every ragged cough.

“Cough as hard as you can, it helps,” she coached, rubbing his back when he rolled onto his stomach to smother his teary eyed face in the carpet.

The ferocity of the coughing rang down his arms, his head throbbing when he managed to sit back up, but with the calming of his body came… warmth.

Nick cleared his throat over and over, wiping the back of his hands across his eyes, but the warmth surrounding his head was making it hard to keep his eyes open. They felt like they could fall into a slumber at any moment, but his mind was as wakeful as ever. He glanced down at his body; why did he feel so… floaty? He cleared his throat again of its scratch while rocking side to side, tensing his arms. Upon lifting his hand, he found he still had full coordination.

He snorted, coughing a little.

“Are you okay?” His head snapped around, finding Callie staring at him in suspense. “How do you feel?”

He inhaled. “I feel like there’s cotton in m’head,” he mumbled, an eye closing. “Like fuzzy cotton,”

She repressed giggles. “But are you okay?”

He nodded loosely, looking around their cluttered room. “It’s like being drunk but sober,”

“I’ve never been able to explain it that well,” Callie grieved, her arms throwing up into the air. “Are you gonna be one of those insightful people when you’re stoned?”

Nick blinked, his eyes reflecting when Callie snapped a photo of him. “Who?” he asked.

“Oh my god.” Callie mumbled.

“Damn,” Nick exclaimed under his breath, his face twisted in horror.

“I know,” Callie nodded, her knee draped over his thigh.

“Could you imagine…?

“No. It’s bad enough we have dragons,” she said against his chest. Every blink felt like eternity.

“Imagine if they did that,” Nick pictured, his body shuddering under hers. “What’s this movie called?”

“Princess Mononoke,”

He scoffed; no way he was remembering that. Nick took a final bite of their ordered dinner, chewing slowly as he stretched to rest the bowl on his nightstand. Maybe this would finally calm his voracious appetite, but as long as Callie kept opening that bag of Doritos, he was hopeless.

“I’m gonna gain thirty pounds by tomorrow,” he mumbled into her hair, the both of them chuckling.

“I never lost my thirty,” she pouted comically, stuffing another chip into her mouth.

“Damn, what that mouth do?” he teased around a yawn.

“Yo mama,” she mumbled, giggling when he snorted.

Silence lulled between the two snuggled and surrounded by snacks in the bed, both of their minds lost somewhere in the clouds as they re-watched various Netflix series.

He thought he’d heard her slip in and out of sleep earlier, but truth be told, he could’ve been listening to himself breathe. There had been a few times his reddened eyes snapped open to be in the middle of a completely different episode, but mentioning it would be admitting he was falling asleep which he continued to adamantly deny. With a blind reach, he retrieved his phone from the nightstand.

Just a little past midnight, but way too late. He was enjoying this too much, though. Nick was only selfish in the sense that sometimes he just wanted to snuggle right up to Callie and feel her body against his. The last time they’d had a moment like this without Leo in the way was at the beginning of her pregnancy, and laying like this only made him realize how long ago that was.

“We should be in bed,” Nick mumbled, rubbing his eye.

“We are in bed,” she laughed, sliding her cheek up to look at him.

“You know what I mean. Big day tomorrow,” he looked down at her, reaching to move some of her hair from her cheek so he could better see those big eyes that always sparkled.

“Everytime I think about it I get so nervous,” she whispered.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. It feels like that first time I met you at Santa Monica. I stress ate like seven funnel cakes. I was so anxious,” she admitted shyly.

“I changed a bunch of times. Couldn’t decide on anything,”

“Oh you did good, sir,” she winced, biting her bottom lip. “You could’ve drowned in my panties,”

“I would’ve if your sister hadn’t’ve interrupted,” he grumbled, forever bitter.

“Oh hush, it was a sign we would be together forever,”

“How so?” he questioned, twisting in her direction a little.

“I would’ve never called a guy back if that happened with anyone else, but you were so perfect that I swallowed the embarrassment and saved my horniness for another day,”

Nick smiled, a big goofy one. “Shut up,”

“Shut me up then,” she came back with, fast as a whip.

His eyes dropped to her lips, lingering before coming back to her eyes. “Isn’t that bad luck?”

“It was bad luck when we both ended up home,” she whispered, the weight of her hand once on his chest now coming to stretch across his meat.

That was enough convincing for Nick.

Callie was a little slower getting over him, but her heated kisses kept him concentrated on what they both wanted. When she was in her spot sitting in his lap, he could better taste her tongue after pulling her chest flush against his, his strong hands quickly continuing to her round ass he pulled back and forth over his growing dick. A steadying hand against his chest meant he could leave her skin that was marked red where he grabbed, her hips resuming the motions.

With his bottom lip pinched between his teeth, he easily pulled her loose sleeping shorts aside, revealing her plump pussy lips.

He could already feel how warm she was through his sweats, shortening his breaths in anticipation.

“You’re so hot,” he admired, looking up in time for her hair to fan around them when leaning down to kiss him. Strong, sinewy arms wrapped tightly around her waist, grounding himself to the angel that squirmed in his hold deliciously. Silently, inwardly, he thanked those who had blessed him with such a girl, promising to worship more as soon as he was done with this.

A firm tug on the ends of her shirt had it flying past her fingertips, thrown to the floor.

Callie gripped the railing to the headboard when he pulled her chest into his open mouth, a long lick gliding over a hardened nipple that had goosebumps fire up her arms. She snickered when he smacked his lips a few times, moving onto the other side. An old technique had her limp in his hold, her thighs tightening at his sides. He encouraged her hips to keep moving, his cock desperate for attention, but her mind was only a pool of melted pleasure at that point.

A hard gasp fell from her wet lips when he graced her clit with tight circles, hanging off of his neck to look down at his hand flat against her lower stomach as his thumb massaged her into a trance. Gradually her eyes fell shut, hair sticking to her cheeks while she panted softly.

His loose smile made her rock into his touch. “You want it already, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice vibrating with growls; Callie could only nod. He pecked her sloppily. “Get naked,”

Callie stumbled off into the center of the bed to kick off her shorts and socks, moving onto the food and remotes and phones that were now being swept onto the floor without a care.

Nick’s shirt and sweats had already been tossed off, but now as he rummaged through the drawer of his bedside table, his excitement was plummeting. Here was the box, but…

“We’re out of condoms,” he announced, looking back at her sat naked at the center of the bed on her knees with her dishevelled hair a mess around her shoulders. It only added to the tragedy of the situation.

“So?” she asked, her fingers drumming against her thighs.

Nick stood straight, his head cocking.

Since she’d been cleared for sex there hadn’t been a session they forgot to use protection, no matter how it dampened the sensation. He’d done it for her, for he wasn’t the one who’d be carrying anymore surprise babies, although it was the memory of her sweet, bare pussy around his unsheathed cock that helped bring him to an end, now. He’d wanted to ask her, even just for one quick slide in, but Nick had always assumed this was the new norm until either of them were snipped.

“Are you- really?” he asked.

“I hate them, Nick. I’m so over using them,” she exhaled, her shoulders drooping. “I’ve been trying to be good but if I have to ride your dick one more time with a balloon over it-”

She yelped, her legs pulled from under her ass and Nick finding his spot between her flailed knees when she realized what happened.

The mood shifted again, and suddenly they were in perfect sync.

Her knees drew upwards when the top of his thighs pressed under her bottom, his hand finding its place at the bend of her leg that was closest to her chest.

She made it up onto an elbow when he spit at his tip pressed against her entrance, her hand hovering against his belly.

“I’ll go slow,” he soothed, meeting her eyes. The first time they’d reunited in bed, his excitement resulted in hurting her, and from that came the need to remind him to be gentle, even this far down the road. A guilt he’d always carry, but he’d work on fixing it.

It didn’t burn this time his head popped in, his thick shaft following until she was filled to his base. Her shoulders fell back with a loud sigh while his eyes slammed shut, pressing to her as tightly as he could. He’d dived into a pool of ecstasy, sending strong shivers up and down his spine as he basked in her heat.

The stinging tug of a condom was at last absent, and there was only Nick’s velvet skin gliding against hers, creating the friction she so wildly desired.

“Baby,” she called, holding the hand at her leg when he stared down at where they were joined. His dilated eyes landed on hers, a low snarl curling his lips when he withdrew only to slip back in.

Her head rolled back in time with her eyes, a loud moan rumbling under the hand that slid up his chest when he rested forward on his hands, her knee hooked around his chiseled arm. He’d draw out until her heat was kissing his head, just so he could feel that delicious pressure before pushing back in. Nick leaned into one hand so he could touch her, dragging his rough hands up and down her body that gravitated towards his caresses. When her pussy bucked into his thrust, a surprised moan came from him, an eager thrust bouncing her.

A low, rumbling growl moved into her when he yanked her hips up in line with his, his nostrils flaring as he scented them together like this.

“Do it,” she smiled, her feet planted into the sheets behind him.

Their eyes locked during the time he adjusted his feet beneath himself, his breaths deep and loud. A few leisure bucks were her warmup, and then came that smirk. She bowed until she balanced on her shoulder blades, his grunts and chuffs nothing compared to the singing made in his name during his fucking. He was a force driven purely by instinct; the need to fill his girl again, to lay claim to what would officially be his that day.

The slapping of their bodies coming together drowned out the TV beside them, Callie’s resounding cries piled atop his raucous moans as he shoved his way into her body again and again, her juices covering them as he pounded that spot hidden deep between her tightening walls.

Her ass was dropped from his hold so he could lean forward for a kiss, her mind spinning when he rolled her on top of him.

With a flip of her head to move her hair off her sticky back, Callie sat straight, her fingertips guiding him back in as her knees slid out until she was sitting flat on him, flinching when his tip found the back of her pussy.

God, she was so small in his hands when he held her cinched waist; if he stuck his thumbs out, they could touch.

A deep moan rang in his chest when she snapped her hips back and forth, her sweet cunt massaging his entire length. When a dip of her center was particularly low, she’d gasp, holding her stomach where it felt he was poking, but a wide smile always followed those overpowering shocks of spine curling bliss.

Nick held steadfast to her hips, guilty in keeping her flat against himself so there was the added friction on his head.

“Oh fuck,” he drawled, his hand landing back into the sheets.

“Nick-” she gasped, her hand flying to his chest. “I’m-”

His last burst of energy was used flipping them again so she was spread below him, his hands hooking under her knees to push back into the bedding beside her ribs.

There was no more words as he poked his way back in, pistoning into her with such power her toes curled, her arms falling limp above her head when her climax came crashing around her. In an instant, she was stiff as a board, her legs strong enough to fight past his hold and stretch straight in tight trembles at his sides as he continued. When she could catch her breath, she shouted, a deep flush blooming across her cheeks and chest. Nick watched with a proud smile as she convulsed under him, her silent mumbles barely words as she came down from her high.

Her limp thighs shook mightily in his hold when he pushed them apart, their bodies touching in a paused moment so he could adore her with soft kisses.

She was still breathless as he brushed his lips across her jaw, her soft throat pulsing with the blood racing through her. Her pussy throbbed dully around him compared to the fist like hold he barely made it through moments ago.

A soft whisper in his ear brought the tempo back up, but Nick wanted to stay like this.

A beauty such as her was only admired best this close, and even though she’d found her climax, she whimpered below him, holding his face as he fucked her sweetly. Her ankles locked behind him, a heady groan to follow before he dropped his face beside hers.

“Should I cum on your stomach?” he panted, his thrusts weakening as the pleasure peaked.

“Inside me,” she kissed into his cheek, tightening the hold with her legs. “Cum inside me baby,”

The hand lost in her hair gripped her roots, a loud hiss coming from between her teeth when his entire body tightened and jerked against her flushed cunt. The screaming engine of Nick’s orgasm overtook him like a wave would at the beach, ringing from every end of his body and back to his center that spilled into his ecstatically beautiful bride to be. He grunted with every thick stream of semen forced into the space they both snuggly occupied, slowly stilling until they were both a heaving pile of sweaty parts and cloudy minds.

He worried he’d crush her the longer he laid over her, but the soft gliding of her hands up and down his back were too good to pass up. He exhaled, his face buried between the mattress and her head. “Fuck,”

Callie giggled, her cheek leaning into his so he’d force himself up to look at her. The urgency was gone in their kisses, but now he could feel how sleepy she was.

“Ready?” he asked against her mouth, only moving when she nodded. Her thighs trembled when he dragged out of her, bringing a thick stream of the nectar he’d left behind.

“Oh I can feel that,” she grimaced, sitting up on her elbows warily. It wasn’t clear at that point if it was the weed or sex that had left her feeling like her head was vacant.

“You should see it,” he smirked, his cocky pride coming through. “How many siblings did you want Leo to have?”

“Ha,” she shouted. “Good luck getting me pregnant ever again. My body said one and done,” she grunted sitting up, scurrying off to the bathroom after Nick had hoisted her up. He didn’t answer, and wouldn’t. Callie adored the idea of having a big family, but the night the topic came up when Leo was two months old, it only ended in her confiding in Nick that she felt she’d never be so lucky again. She wasn’t wrong in saying her body would likely fight off pregnancy for years, maybe endlessly if they ever tried again. Where it once happened so effortlessly, the time following to get where they were now had left them both a little… doubtful.

Nick yanked the blanket off their bed, tossing it beside the door so he could flop into the cool sheets of the mattress after turning off the lights and TV. His arms were already open when she came wobbling back in, her naked body collapsing into his. They rolled and wiggled until they found their spots, her head tucked under his chin and their legs tangled.

“We broke like four traditions,” she mumbled through a closed jaw.

“Thinking about it, I don’t think it applies to us,” he yawned; the sleepiness was at last getting to him. She looked up at him curiously.

“Our whole relationship is taboo. Curses don’t apply to morally incorrect choices,” he explained, laughing when she did.

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” she settled, her soft smile lingering when he rubbed her arm. The soft breeze from their ceiling fan moved her loose hair around his arm, tickling his skin, but the gentle strokes across his chest from her was lulling him into sleep.

“You’re not gonna bail on me tomorrow, right?” she asked suddenly, and his eyes opened.

He leaned away from her so he could better see her face when she looked up. “Why would you ask that?”

“I had to ask, my mind wouldn’t let me put it to rest,” she sighed. “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” he pulled her chin up, holding her face. “I’ve been trying to get you to marry me for years, remember?”

She giggled, nodding. “What if right when I said yes you were like ‘fuck, she said yes, what do I do now?’”

“Oh my god that brain of yours,” he sighed, laying back down to pull her tight against his chest. “I’ll prove it to you when I’m waiting at the altar,”

“Promise?” she asked, her big eyes already closed. He pushed some hair aside, her lids fluttering a moment.

“Always.”

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did i plant a seed in this chapter? are those church bells in the distance? honeymoon in san diego where they have the best tacos HWHAT?

only 3 chapters left! ;_; thanks for reading, my loves! ❤

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

Text

I [still] know what you did last Halloween...

Part one // Part Three // Part Four

Pairing: Scooby gang x reader (platonic)

This is the second part to a platonic story with the reader as part of the Scooby gang. Set season 3. This is a multi-parted serial killer/slasher fic for Halloween. Yes, I had to include Spike. Yes, I am sorry. Reader lived with Giles, but is not related.

Warning: It is a serial killer fic, main characters are going to die (I’m sorry, it’s Halloween). Violence. Blood mention. Alcohol consumption. Swearing.

Sunnydale students: SOS

Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

The Sunnydale slasher strikes again, leaving one teen dead and two injured. There was a house party last night [12/10/1999] which left the student body with one less. The identity of the teen, who is yet to be identified based on extensive injuries should be announced to the public after the family is informed.

However, it makes us at the Sunnydale Express question: was it the teens fault for breaking curfew?

It was the day of the funerals. There was to be two back-to-back.

The first funeral was Giles’. It was an intimate ceremony, the core group and a Watcher who had never met Giles alive. He was there to ‘oversee’ matters but Wesley told him where to go. This had surprised you, the man wasn’t usually so forthright but he had appeared to be fond of Giles in some way.

Your group stood, staring into the open grave. You were now minus two members. There had been some crying earlier, but everyone’s faces were stony now. As if they were set in place. Exhausted from crying, not sure if you would die from dehydration if you wept another drop.

All of the colour had been sucked out of the world and you were all now aware that you were only briefly passing through this life. You weren’t aware everyone else was sharing your cynical thought, but they were.

You felt the most immeasurable guilt. You felt guilty for Giles’ death. For being the reason he was gutted so brutally. Used to write a crude message on the wall. His life had come down to being the ink in someone’s pen and it angered you that this was what his life had been reduced to. But mostly, it sickened you.

And, as Willow tapped you on the shoulder and gestured that it was time. Your mind still trying to wrap your head around the imagines you had seen in the past week. It was never going to get easier.

It was all a blur. It was screaming and rushing of bodies all around you.

The room had started to thin. Only the injured and your friends remained. Willow had started to mutter something, a kind of protective spell - she grabbed your hand needing your strength.

The slayers danced around each other, their fight mean and brutal. he appeared human, but his reflexes were good. Almost, too good.

He was blocking them at every turn. He appeared to be enjoying it. He was studying them. Learning their movement. Anticipating what would come next. They fought hard. Buffy hissing as the tip of the scythe cut into the flesh on her upper arm.

Then it happened. You could barely stomach thinking about it. Xander had walked into the room-

Xander had been a good friend to you. He was never perfect and you liked that about him, he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t. He looked out for you and he had been there for you when you had almost broken down and run to the police months ago. He had been firm that it had to be kept secret what you had done, but never refused you a shoulder to cry on.

His funeral was a lavish affair, his parents turning on the waterworks despite everyone knowing how they would treat him at times. They had paid for only the best, with a large number of people attending. The church was packed out. It made you wander that if any of them knew what he had been involved in with the rest of you, would they be so quick to say they had always liked him? Always seen him as brave and strong?

Any time the family saw any of the people that were there that night they scowled. They glared. And they burst into more tears. Why were you spared, when he wasn’t?

The six of you huddled together. Oz was more distant than usual, his hand on Willow’s shoulder as she couldn’t control her sobbing now. Buffy was sat with you, trying to hold it together as you wrapped an arm around her - willing yourself not to fall apart either. Cordelia and Faith had started bickering. It was getting progressively louder and your group was getting funny looks. They eventually stopped but only when the priest shushed them and started to say the final words before Xander was cremated.

Bravery. It was a word that had been said a lot that day, in that stuffy church hall. But it rang true, clearer than the tolling bell.

He had been brave.

Everything stilled when he entered the room, as if time had been slowed for that one moment. And who knows, maybe it had. It was Sunnydale. The masked figure stopped fighting Buffy and stepped over an injured party-goer. He had been waiting for this. the guest of honour.

The masked figure had just been killing time fighting the slayers. Xander’s fate was decided before he had got to the party that night.

Xander’s face had twisted in horror, his eyes met yours and you started to scream. He nodded, resigning himself to what was coming. The figure swung his scythe back, shrugging Faith off him who had tried to tackle him and swung at Xander.

A sickening noise. A splatter of blood sprayed the entire room. Willow dropped your hand in horror, stunned into silence as Xander’s head rolled to Buffy’s feet, the same look in his eye.

There were media crews set up everywhere outside the church. They were using Xander to tell their stories. It would anger you, but you felt too washed out to say anything. You didn’t even comment when you overheard Harmony on her fifth interview, now talking to the local news outlet.

“Did you know the victim well?”

“Well, yeah. He was a total dork- which was so cute we all loved him” She smiled saccharine sweet making sure nobody had noticed her initial look, “Like, everyone wanted to date him he was a total stud-bucket”

“Were you there that night?”

“Yeah – everyone was, duh! But Carrie totally crashed and I don’t hang around with losers. Even being seen with her is like social suicide!” Harmony maintained firmly, as if that was the most important thing she had been interviewed on, “So I left early”

“Okay- that’s great Harmony. One last question: how are you and the rest of your high school class going to cope after this devastating loss?”

“Well, we’re all gonna graduate as long as we’re not all dead first. I am going to be a counsellor at Camp Crystal Lake in the summer. I’m just pleased to have a break from Sunnydale – senior year has been kind of a bummer so far what with the killings” Harmony shrugged and turned away, swishing her long blonde hair as she walked and her clique followed her. Even Cordelia rolled her eyes as Harmony walked past your group.

You stood motionless for a moment, it felt like a second to all of you but to onlookers there had been enough time to paint a detailed impressionist painting. The only title fitting was: loss.

“Where do we go from here?” someone finally spoke up.

“To the function”

“I-I don’t think I can” Willow sobbed into Oz’s shoulder.

“It’s worse if we don’t show our faces. Even if it’s just for a minute…” You suggest, really wishing the words hadn’t come out of your mouth. You didn’t want to have to face Xander’s family again, “Angel said he might come, what with the sun going down soon”

“Free alcohol. Score” Faith smiled.

“You’re right” Buffy said, still staring into the distance.

“You wanna get drunk?” Faith raised an eyebrow that lowered when Buffy shook her head.

“No. Y/n’s right. We should go. But we all need to talk – in private, when our heads are clearer. Need to figure out what’s going on” Buffy spoke, her usual self-assured tone was weakened slightly. Her voice hoarse from all of the crying.

You all nodded distantly, walking into the function room together, but feeling miles apart.

Death! Destruction! Mayhem!

Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

Rioting of many stores in the centre of town has been widely reported by those on the ground. Many young people, have taken to the streets to ‘protest’ the curfew. These troubled teens do not understand the importance of hard work and have instead taken to looting and picking up where the killer left off: damning our town.

They have old friends to meet; Disco music to dance to and big ticket items to steal from struggling small businesses.

Meanwhile, the death toll of the cases related to the ‘Sunnydale Slasher’ is now 5, and we ask the residents of Sunnydale: when will they learn?

You walked into the magic shop, one of the only shops on the row that appeared to be untouched. Maybe people knew better than to loot a magic shop. The rest were fair game. You had been hoping to find some kind of ingredients that would help you sleep. Or at least, allow you to relax for even a minute. You felt responsible. For everything and you weren’t sure how to deal with it anymore.

But apparently, this store hadn’t been untouched by those taking what they wanted. You stumbled in on a vampire having a midday snack. Spike. Shit.

You started to back out slowly, but he had seen you. He dropped the corpse of the shop-owner and stepped over her, walking slowly towards you. You sighed, you really weren’t in the mood for this. Everyone around you was dying and now you had to talk to one of the undead.

“Don’t move” He warned, pointing at you as he licked the side of his mouth to catch the blood that had been dripping there. When he noticed that you weren’t even scared, almost a little bored – waiting for him to finish he got annoyed, “You know what I could do? I could snap your neck and-”

“I already have one killer after me, what’s one more?” You sighed again. He raised an eyebrow and you just shrugged, not willing to get into it. Not until he said something.

You had sat, sliding down the wall and he had for some unknown reason (to either of you) decided to join you. He was sobering up and needed some kind of distraction at any rate. He had been staring, sitting beside you and scanning your features in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable if you had cared what he was deciding on.

“You seem different, y/n. From last time, I mean. Not sad, but damned near it - you’re almost making me feel better about my Dru”

“I killed someone. Well, not me, but I helped cover it up…” You admit, after a huge sigh. Spike barely even blinked, this kind of confession didn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Who did?”

“Slayers”

“I think they have a licence to kill, love. Don’t make it right but there it is” he shrugged, ready to get back to his feet and look for some liquor. Until you spoke again.

“He was human” You say softly, “Mr Bates. He had a name and a-a family-”

“I’ve killed hundreds of humans, so what?” He spoke over your turmoil. He didn’t feel guilt in that way, so he couldn’t really relate to your low mood.

“It hurts. It aches… but worst of all it makes every experience I’ve ever had… tainted. Wrong in ways I can never describe. It’s like I’m walking through a nightmare, and everyone else is right there with me. It’s not as if I can go to the police. Or talk to anyone else about it… not properly”

“Thanks, that’s sure to make a fella feel special” implying he wasn’t counted in anyone. But he wasn’t very hurt by the statement. This was the first full conversation you had together, he wasn’t that invested in your relationship.

“You know what I mean” You shrugged. And he did. He started to explain to you why he was back. About Dru and everything that had happened since you last saw him. You tried your best to wade through your own thoughts and chip in here and there. He clearly needed to vent too.

You and Spike eventually left together. You had convinced him, after hearing of his predicament, he needed to convince Dru to take him back and he agreed. You walked part of the way before he was going to go and get into his car and you were going to head home.

Night had fallen and you were about to part ways when he came for you. Spike heard him before you saw him. But the figure still made the both of you flinch slightly, before Spike rolled his shoulders and decided he would have to fight doubly hard for showing that weakness.

The hood was down and you could see the mask properly. It was a black material, with a chiselled grey skull etched so forcefully it was as if it was his actual face. The bones were harsh and looked as if it could cut despite it being a plastic mask.

Spike ran straight for him and started to match his offensive blows with his own. Spike appeared to have the upper hand as you just stood and watched. You knew if it came down to it, you could be collateral damage and neither of them would be too bothered.

Somehow, Spike had been knocked to the floor and before he could get up, a scythe had been lodged deep into his torso, hitting the ground beneath him with a horrible metallic sound. The reaper hacked at Spike, who hissed and cursed at him, but didn’t die as the killer had suspected. The reaper stepped back a few paces. It allowed Spike to get to his feet. There was a lot of blood running down Spike’s torso. His shirt was in tatters.

“I bloody liked that shirt!” He snarled, looking down. Trying not to choke on the blood that was moving up his trachea. If he had been mortal, he would have died ten minutes ago.

The masked figure cocked his head, figuring something out. Not working. Not human.

Spike charged at him, throwing punches and blocking the scythe easily. He was stronger. Spike had bit into him and knocked him to the floor. He started to stamp on him repeatedly until a gargled choking sound was heard from behind the mask. He landed on more swift kick for good measure before deciding he was as good as dead.

Spike turned back to you, for some unknown reason, and for probably the first time in his un-life he went to check on you. A human. He felt that you had some kind of bond after you both shared your woes. He was about to ask if you needed any help before he drained the killer and left to find Dru, but the words never left his lips.

“Spike!” You screamed as you saw the killer rise to his feet and remove a stake from his pocket. It all happened in slow motion. Spike wasn’t able to turn quick enough, he had been caught off-guard. Bollocks. The killer plunged the wooden object directly into his heart and the bleach-blonde vampire exploded into a pile of dust.

“You did this” He spoke for the first time. His voice like gravel. He knelt and took a handful of dust and walked towards you. You stumbled back, hitting a brick wall. You had nowhere to run. You were backed into a corner. He threw the dust over you, leaving you spluttering and rubbing your eyes. You were expecting death any moment, but it never came.

When you opened your eyes again, there was nobody except you in the street.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

Many have petitioned the Mayors office due to the large volume of litter and dust that has appeared, often overnight, leaving citizens having to take matters into their own hands. The large number of ash filling our streets tells us that unauthorised fires and barbecues have been set up through town with little being done by authorities to subdue this illegal activity – especially after our newly enforced curfew.

We implore the mayor’s office to make an immediate press release and ensure there is enough man-power to make sure our humble town is cleared during the night.

You were in Giles’ house. It had been left to you. You were touched, but every footstep you made in that house filled your body with guilt.

You were hosting a scooby meeting. You didn’t have any food in, everyone had started to pass around Giles’ single malt, drinking it straight from the glass. Even Buffy took a sip every now and again. You all needed it. Life was starting to become unbearable. Cordelia had joined late, rushing straight from cheer practice.

“What do we know?” She asked as she set her bag down and looked around as if you had the killer tied up in the bathroom, waiting for her to come so you could unmask him.

“Zip. Nothing”

“The killer is targetting us, that’s all we know. Some kind of twisted revenge. We just need to find out how he knows and why he’s so strong”

“Simple then” Faith shook her head.

“Oh and he takes out anyone in his way, so it’s not just us”

“What did the swim team ever do to him?” You wondered out loud

“It’s the tight pants, he likes a little modesty” Faith snickered and you scowled. How could she be so okay with this? She was the one that had stuck the stake in his hear, finished him off. You were feeling all this guilt and she just didn’t seem to even care.

“But does he even have any proof? Let’s just go to the police and say we’re being targeted”

“Yeah there’s witness protection! We could get new names!” Willow backed Buffy up quickly.

“That won’t change anything. We’re still killers” You mutter and everyone stopped. You had never said anything like that out loud before. You were usually the one that kept everyone optimistic. But it was too hard at the moment.

“Shut up! We’re not! It was an accident. Just an accident”

“How do you explain Giles?” you said glumly, glancing sideways to where his body had been.

“What is up your ass today? God, people are dead. We all feel it. But you’re just giving up! It’s not right!” Cordelia shouted.

“I’m living in our dead librarians house. Rent free” You sighed, “The house we cleaned and made look like an accident”

“Can it, y/n. None of this is our fault. We gotta do this or we’d be in jail”

“But if we keep doing this, we’re going to die” You replied, “Like Spike… he was gone. Just… dust”

“Well, I can’t say I’m gonna shed many tears” Buffy muttered.

“He was… nice. The last thing he did before he died was come over to check on me”

“Oh come on, y/n! He was probably gonna eat you”

“Whatever. I know what I saw and I can’t help feeling that you’re suddenly on team psycho” you muttered. Faith was watching in interest, but didn’t speak up again. She took another swig of alcohol and shrugged. You couldn’t help think you saw a satisfied smirk on her face, but it may have been a trick of the light. Or the whiskey. You set the glass down and went to see what Willow was looking at some research.

Giles had left some books open on his desk. He had been looking into the Sunnydale slasher, it seemed. When the books gave you nothing, you turned to the internet. You all started looking for some magical solution. There had to be something.

As the night wore on and the words got blurrier, it was getting harder to concentrate. And harder to get along.

“There’s no- no trace!” Willow said, getting more frustrated, “I can’t find anything”

“Maybe if someone did less cheating on her boyfriend and more reading” Cordelia snapped.

“That’s so not fair! I’m doing more than you!”

“Will, you’re doing the same amount as her” You offered. Cordelia had been researching too.

“Why are you always on her side – you’re supposed to be my best friend”

“I’m just being fair”

“You think this doesn’t involve you, huh?” Faith suddenly stood up and stared you down. You had been the first to admit you were at the centre of it all, but the way she phrased the comment, just made you snap.

“Well, you were the bitch that killed the poor man and managed to be surprisingly cool about it. Maybe you’ve done this before. Maybe, you did it on purpose!” You shouted and Faith pushed you hard. You landed on your ass.

“Fuck you!” She screamed. Not as cool or collected as you thought. The flash in her eyes spelled danger. It concealed guilt and deceit. It told you everything you needed to know. You got to your feet, walked straight out of the room and slammed your bedroom door. Allowing them to let themselves out.

Cordelia had gotten worked up as you stormed out, standing up to Buffy and shouting, “Sunnydale would have been better without you in it! All you do is attract stuff like this. You know who I blame, Buffy? You. You’re a Slayer all wow and look at me but what have you done? What have you done to protect any of us?!” Cordelia flung her arms out in annoyance, the glass that had been holding the whiskey flying out of her hand and crashing to the floor.

“Cordelia-” Buffy started.

“No, let her speak” Faith said nodding along.

“They’re picking us off one by one and of you – either of you – have done anything except hide bodies and celebrate that you’re slayers so you’re not gonna die! What about us!? What about people that are meant to be your friends?” Cordelia shouted. She was scared. She was angry. She couldn’t trust any of them anymore. You had given in. Willow just agreed with Buffy and she had a history with her. Buffy and Faith didn’t seem to be anything and she just wanted to escape. Hopefully with her life intact.

“Cor, we’re doing everything-”

“You’re not! You’re so not!”

“So what’s your plan then, huh? Lay down and wait for the killer to come get you? ‘Cause I haven’t heard anythin’ helpful come out of your mouth” Faith

“Shut up anyway, you just got here and you expect us to care? I hope you go next!” Cordelia screamed in Faith’s face. Faith just shrugged, but the whole room could tell that had stung her. She then turned back to Buffy, “This is your fault, Buffy. This, everything that has happened since last Halloween is your fault”

“Get out” Buffy said firmly, “Go!” she raised her voice as a tear slid down her cheek and Willow quickly went to comfort her.

“Fine. I’ve had enough! I’m leaving – I’m moving! I don’t wanna see any of you ever again!” Cordelia shouted, slamming the front door behind her and cursing every single one of you as she huffed and stalked away into the night.

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h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e · 5 years ago

Text

Poppies [B.H. x you]

Request:

Inspiration: It’s No Reason by The Church

Word Count: 2750 Warnings: reference of abuse and angst.

Written Date: 1/20-3/10/2020 Posted Date: 3/10/2020

[MASTERLIST]

August 12. Sunday. 11:56 a.m.

After a couple days of trailing after his father and his new little family in their Chevy truck, Billy pulled up in front of the place they’d now be calling home. Billy’s bones ached from sitting for a prolonged period of time and his eyelids had been heavy from the constant blare of the sun, and yet he thought their new humble abode was just about the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. With several window panes bordering a sun parlour and a low roof that suggested the lack of stairs inside, Billy knew it was totally Susan’s style and not something his father would have picked out had it just been him and his teenage son.

The sun parlour was meant for Susan’s obsession with lilies and begonias. There would soon be a wooden bench with flowered cushions just for her to perch on with one of her many melodramatic books about gossip and heartbreak. And with only one story to worry about, Susan would silence her chirps about stupid superstitions about staircases and ladders as if staircases and ladders were the same thing. Yes, he could see it all so clearly.

Billy felt drowsy, but he wasn’t blind. He knew all about the intentions his father had when purchasing this house, beside the new job opportunity, before reaching for the handle of his Camaro. The daintiness of the house, the seclusion of moving across country, was all just a ploy to keep another woman from slipping through his father’s aching embrace. His father couldn’t control Billy’s free spirited mother, so he chased after a much more timid woman who his ex-co-worker cheated on. Susan just so happened to already have a child his father hadn’t known about ‘til it was too late.

Walking up to the front door just a beat behind his father and the two redheads, and just about ready for a twelve-hour nap, Billy somehow picked up on the flutter of lavish curtains of lace and chintz from the house next door.

A peeping neighbor was curious about them, yet his father was much more interested in the plants rooted beneath the neighbor’s window.

“What the hell are those things?”

“I think they’re flowers,” Max threw in her two cents.

With a small, soft turn of her lips, Susan added, “I’m sure they’ll be absolutely beautiful once they bloom.”

Billy will already half-forgotten this exchange of meaningless words meant to fill in the silence and the curious shadow of his new neighbor until…

October 3. Wednesday. 2:31 a.m.

Sweat accumulated on his forehead as Billy awoke with a start. His sheets stuck against hist bare limbs as a hazy memory of an ocean wave toppling over him and a blurred smile clouded his vision. Yet, getting up, he managed to locate his lighter in the strewn jeans he’d worn the day before and place a fresh cigarette between his lips and another behind his ear before sneaking past dad and Susan’s bedroom.

His palms were clammy and chills prickled his arm hair as he stepped out into the night. Standing in the center of the cement path in sleep shorts and a T-shirt, he figured the cigarettes he planned on having would be enough to take his mind off the old breeze and old memories.

Except, he hadn’t planned on having an audience.

She was sitting on the steps of the next door porch. Knees jutted out in front of her, arms tucked across her midsection, and eyes already set on him.

Billy only knew a couple things about her. She and her grandparents were his neighbors, she went to school with him, and she flinched…embarrassingly a lot.

Stubbing out his half-burned cigarette, Billy retreated back inside away from the girl, but not before glancing at the plants his father wouldn’t quit pestering everyone about.

Nothing about them had changed. Still green and still very ugly.

October 16. Tuesday. 2:10 a.m.

Days snail by and the weather has remained stagnant, yet again Billy found himself venturing outside before the bird could sing. His mattress had felt too lumpy against the ridges of his spine and the sheets too tampered to find any peace. And there she was again for the fourth time in the past thirteen days, burning holes into the moisture of the patchy lawn before her.

The cold shoulder was a kick to the shin. Billy’d grown accustomed to the thought of having someone to share the cleansing breeze of sorrow they didn’t plan on speaking of. Billy had the idea that he couldn’t be the only one whose demons kept him from snuggling under the covers and drifting off until the alarm clock said so. No one in their right mind found peace in the shadows of orange street lamps without worse occurrences taking place behind doors…or the insides of skulls.

So, he found himself scrounging through the block of ice that’s never been broken through, not even after the welcoming block party. Not when this girl’s “papa” borrowed his father’s lawnmower. Not when Susan and “nana” swapped pot roast recipes. And, definitely not when she came over with a textbook held against her chest to tutor Max at their dining table.

“You make this a habit or something?”

Her delicate eyelids fluttered before she realized Billy’s figure stood in front of her, scuffing his sneakers at the gravel.

His eyes long adjusted to the dim glow of the street lamp, he studied the ribbon struggling to hold on to her hair and the oversized jacket that swallowed her frame. She was still wearing the same outfit from the day before. He only knew because she had been guiding Max through a couple practice problems while he was curling weights to MTV after school.

“You one of them ‘watch the sunrise’ type of gals or something?”

Hooking the stretched sleeves of her sweater over her thumbs, she responded, “Sometimes.”

Within the frame of a breath, Billy had taken a seat beside her on the steps while his hands rested in his pockets, resisting the urge to comment on the leap of her shoulders. It was easy, he managed to wire his lips shut last night when his father had halted her from walking out their front door without the ten dollars she earned from tutoring. Her chin had tucked into her chest with the flicker of her lids before the older Hargrove shoved the bill into her clammy palms.

“Isn’t it kind of early for that?”

She shrugged, failing to convince anyone, even herself, that there wasn’t a care in her bones.

“Do your grandparents know you come out here?” They reminded Billy of his own grandparents, the ones who’d welcomed him with warm biscuits and a spare bed just before his father tore him away from his last shred of contentment.

“Do your parents know you do the same?” she retorted.

“Touché.”

Billy stayed next to her, never brushing against her for fear of sending her running back into the house, for a few moments longer before getting back up.

Glancing down at her, he motioned towards his house. “I should go, you know, before my dad wakes and freaks.”

She nodded twice. “Okay.”

The weight of his shoulders dragged him down just a little bit more as he spared her another glance before shoving his hands in his pockets and trekking back home. He never stayed outside for long, usually only for the span of a burning cigarette or two. Never as long as her, who’d already be out there far before frost greets his skin and who’d remain out there long after he fell back in the abyss of his bed.

And right before he silently jiggled the pestilent doorknob, he noticed that those odd, not-yet-ready, flowers were beginning to crack open like the release of bubbles from clams.

October 18. Thursday. 3:47 a.m.

Another forty-eight hours passed, a full moon encompassed the dark sky and she was still wearing the same loose sweater he’d seen her in outside of fourth period. The flimsy material still threatened to slip off her shoulders and fall in a red pool around her feet. The bags beneath her downcast eyes contrasted further against the skin of her cheeks, yet she agreed to join him on a walk with him without much convincing.

It was just a stroll around their expansive block, and her top lip hardly separated from its thicker sister while twin arms remained crisscrossed around her ribs like Greek ancient pillars. Billy hadn’t expected anything more for she never really made attempt in being friendly with him nor he with her, not when the street lamps sat cold beneath the sun.

So, when her steps came to a close despite only having twenty-seven cement blocks to go before reaching their neighboring homes, muttering, “It’s not you,” Billy stumbled on his own feet. Yet, she fished forth, steadying him with the softness of her palms. and he gave her a simple nod, “I get it.”

The smile didn’t cut into the plush pillows of her cheeks, creating denudation, but the prudent glaze of her pupils softened. “Not a lot of people do.”

The stroll continued in silence, and skipping over his house Billy walked her to her porch. She climbed the three steps, with an appreciative set of eyes, about to twist the knob and enter the shadowed mass of her grandparents’ timely living room, but Billy spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

Glancing over the red cotton of her shoulder, she responded, “What?”

His foot settled on the first step, “What’s keeping you?”

She fully faced him with her arms down her sides. “What do you mean?”

He ascended those steps with his hands in his pockets, always in his pockets around her vicinity. “You’re always out here. Cold, shivering, instead of in there,” he nodded towards her front door, “warm, maybe with a teddy bear or two. What’s keeping you from your bed?”

“Nothing in there, I love papa and nana.” She shrugged, lowering her head before settling on “It’s complicated.” She sucked in a deep breath between her teeth, “Thanks for walking me home, Billy,” and retreated, softly closing the door on him.

October 22. Monday. 4:03 a.m.

Billy wiped at the beaded moisture on his upper lip before resting his head on his hands. The dream itself vanished upon the flicker of his lids, leaving behind only fragments of images. A dazzling smile. A wave crashing over. But his semi-conscious brain grasped at the emotions the dream had stirred. It was the same thing over and over again.

Shrugging on a crumpled jacket from the floor and slipping on a pair of sneakers, Billy creeped down the hallway towards the front door with ease. After all the interrupted nights in this new house, he knew which floorboards creaked and strained under his stature. Anything that could give him an advantage around his father he took mental notes of.

He didn’t expect to find her sitting on the single step in front of his door or expect to see a bounce in her race to stand on her two feet when he made his appearance. The door softly clicked behind him.

“I was hoping you’d show up.” She spoke gently.

Even her expression wasn’t so pitiful or down in the dumps. Her jaw sat relaxed with parted lips. A sense of wonder had swept every unshed tear in her lashes and the caution that was so natural in her stare. Billy even took notice of her short tennis skirt and the slouch socks that accompanied her white sneakers and how she resembled a cheery teenaged girl for once, like a girl-next-door should be.

“What’s going on?” he asked her, glancing east and west end of the neighborhood.

“I have something to tell you,” she guided a confused Billy down the cement step and across their moist lawns until they stopped in front of the main window of her house. “Look. The poppies finally bloomed.”

And they did. Those ridiculous green bulbs that stuck out like a wallflower among a popular crowd were no longer that but…nice little flowers with graceful necks and blushing petals. Poppies, so that’s what these buggers were all along.

“See? They aren’t so ugly are they?” She glanced up at him with a playful expression. Her lips quirked and an eyebrow raised.

“I never said anything.” His muscular arms crossed against his chest.

A huff of quiet laughter released under her breath. “No, but I’ve heard your dad say a thing or two. He’s not very quiet.”

He stilled and the playful banter isn’t so fun anymore. “You can hear him?”

Her head dropped to her chest and the hair behind her ears fell free. “Sometimes.”

Fists fall to his sides, clenching, and he hides them in his pockets like he usually does around her. And, yet, embarrassment spread a fire across his face. It wasn’t her fault that these houses were so old their walls appeared paper thin. It wasn’t her fault his dad found a reason to express his disappointment in his son every chance he got nor raise his palms with quick ease. Life just freaking sucked sometimes.

But, he didn’t want her thinking he was angry at her or anything because she overheard a scuffle or two. By spending what little time with her after sunlight, he knew her more than any other person at their school did. He knew she couldn’t sleep without demons sinking their claws into her skin and dragging her through mud, like him. They were far past formalities.

Fingers tickled her palm before lacing together with her own, and she realized Billy was holding her hand.

“Poppies, you said?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“They’re,” he cleared imaginary lint from his throat, “nice.”

“I grew them myself,” she offered. “I found out the first bouquet papa gave to nana were poppies.”

“Really?” His soft gaze fell on her.

She nodded once more with a pull at her lip before returning the look.

One day she’d tell him about the anxiousness that gnawed on her scalp as the date of her father’s release draws near. She’d tell him how his own father’s forced acts of kindness reminded her of her own whenever one of his work pals would come over to watch the game. She’d tell him that she’d only been living with her grandparents for a little less than four years. She was originally from out of state, where the clouds didn’t hold the sky hostage. One day she’d tell him that there was a time when her papa and nana only knew what she looked like based on a photo in their album when she was only 13 months old. That her father was sent to prison after Coach Annie spotted a trail of blue smudges trailing towards her shoulder. How a scar from a scolding iron on her thigh was discovered after that.

Billy’s thumb brushed over her cold knuckles once more as he gazed upon the warm hues of the poppies, and she felt that one day she could tell him everything.

A/N: So sorry about the super long wait for this request! >.<

#Billy Hargrove #stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things 2 #st #st imagine #st imagines #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagine #reader insert #request

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taeminstetrislips · 3 years ago

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School Trip Series - Italy Pt. 2

Rome

With the two scheduled activities done for the day, your group is sent to the hotel before being released to do what you wanted without plans. You’d be staying at the Hotel Savoy which upon arrival took your breath away with its view. All of you line up to collect hotel keys and organize who will be rooming with whom. Unsure of what to do, you hang back and wait for one of the groups of girls to offer an open spot to you. You can overhear conversations stating that the rooms that had been reserved can sleep 3 people in separate twin beds. Then, you are pleasantly surprised when the guys all come over to you, arguing who was going to ask you to join their room to see if you’d be comfortable. Eventually, Xiaojun approaches and asks the question. Delighted, you agree to be the third to the room Renjun and Sungchan were sharing (Xiaojun and Johnny had already claimed they wanted the room with Jaehyun).

After taking the luggage up to your rooms next to each other, the guys from the other room bombarded yours claiming it would be the “party room.” Before you could protest, they already started spreading themselves out on the joined beds of Renjun and Sungchan. You took note of how they were respecting your personal space and not laying on your bed.

“So what’s the plan? What are we going to do?”Renjun asks the group. His response is just a lot of shrugging and mumbled “I dunno”s. You suggest taking a walk and just seeing what’s nearby. Everyone simply agrees because they have no better ideas. On the walk, you discover that you’ve stumbled upon the Fontana di Trevi. Once getting a closer look, you immediately ask if anyone has change. Johnny pulls out his wallet and offers a few coins to the group. You toss a coin into the fountain, keeping your wish all to yourself and the rest do the same. It takes you a second, but you realize you recognize the place.

“Oh my gosh, don’t make fun of me but this was the place they went to in the Lizzie McGuire movie.”

“The what?” Sungchan asks you. You look at all of them with a deadpan expression.

“I'm not mad, just disappointed," you say and turn around to walk away.

Renjun pipes up saying, "Hey there's this cool hidden gem I saw when I was doing research around here. I think we just have to turn this way. Hold on, let me pull it up."

Jaehyun asks, "Where did you conduct this research?"

"Tik Tok." Renjun responds matter-of-factly before pointing us toward the street we were to walk down. Following him around a few turns left and right leads to this place that seems very unassuming, the sign saying ‘Vicus Caprarius’. But, after each of you purchases an entry ticket, you understand what he meant by hidden gem. Just beyond the staircase lies the water tank of an ancient Roman aqueduct. Jaehyun reads the information on the plaque.

“It says this is ‘The Aqua Virgo’ and it still provides water to the Trevi fountain.” The way they've lit the surroundings makes the water look hauntingly romantic as it reflects the blue lights. The calming sounds of water flowing summon an atmosphere that you can't explain. It feels like this moment is private, intimate, like it just belongs to the six of you. Probably the quietest you’ve all been on this trip, you observe in awe. In a few more steps, you are led through the views of the remains of a Roman house, a headless statue, a section of an old mosaic floor, and many more mysteriously beautiful exhibits. On the way back out into the sun, you make sure to hang close to the back of the group where Renjun was walking.

“Hey, thanks for showing us that. It was really cool,” you tell him.

He looks kind of shy and embarrassed when he says, “Oh yeah of course.”

You all continue to walk around and take in the views before heading back toward the hotel. You were told that there was a rooftop lounge and Xiaojun desperately wanted to be there to watch the sunset. After grabbing drinks at the rooftop bar, Jaehyun helps you claim a couple of couches you can all hang at. Sungchan takes the seat next to you and has to scoot even closer when Xiaojun sits next to him, causing his thigh to brush up against his. You feel like a kid again as your heartbeat gets faster. It's like all you can think about at that moment is the spot where his leg meets yours.

Finally, you manage to get a grip on yourself and raise your head up, only to lock eyes with Jaehyun before he quickly turns away and pretends he wasn’t looking at you. However, you allow your eyes to linger on his face as you watch his dimple deepen while a small smile grows on his face subconsciously. It’s at this moment that you realize all of these boys are not only becoming some of your closest friends, but you might start falling for one (or all) of them.

Following an elegant dinner at the hotel restaurant, the group retires to your respective rooms. You all were encouraged to get some sleep early tonight for the busy schedule tomorrow. But of course, the guys had other plans. After everyone crashes the “party room” aka yours, Johnny starts pulling up Disney plus on the TV.

“What are we watching?” you ask.

“We found the Lizzie McGuire Movie.” Johnny says, extremely serious as he starts typing in the title.

“No! You’re not serious. Oh my god.” You’re starting to feel a little embarrassed about your taste in made-for-tv disney movies.

“Oh I’m serious. We’re watching this. Wouldn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

Now you have to laugh. “Okay fine, but if you don’t like it, don’t blame me. I’m sure I only like it as much as I do because of nostalgia.”

This doesn’t seem to be a problem because as soon as the music starts, you’re singing and dancing along. And so do the guys if they recognize the song playing. Damn, they have really good voices. There’s even a point when Renjun decides he’s going to be the Paolo to your Lizzie and duet the final song with you. His imitation of the character’s voice crack is so good that it leaves the rest of the room laughing. You can just feel the inside joke growing already.

Before you get in trouble with the other people staying in the hotel for noise, you make the decision to kick out the other boys and get to sleep.

After stopping at a cafe and getting caffeinated and bakery-filled stomachs, you are all on the way to the pantheon to once be quizzed on architectural vocabulary by your professor. You have all decided to make it a friendly competition to see who can get the most questions right.

You would’ve won against Sungchan but you forgot the word for a coffered ceiling. But, you can’t be too mad because you guys all pleasantly surprised the professor with how much you remembered and he granted you an extra hour of free time before you had to get on the bus. This made Renjun really excited because he had another hidden gem he found on tiktok that he wanted to show.

He nearly started running in the direction of where he wanted to go. You followed closely after him, remembering how cool the first thing was that he found. Eventually, you are led to the church of San Luigi dei Francesi. Looking behind you, you see that the other guys haven’t quite caught up to you yet, but Renjun doesn’t seem to care as he grabs your wrist to drag you along behind him inside. Immediately, you are in awe. This church is so intricate and elaborate that if you didn’t know better, you’d think this was a hallway in the Palace of Versailles. Renjun only takes a few moments to admire the frescoes on the walls and ceilings before directing you to a corner where a lot of people were gathered.

After sifting through the crowd to the front, you see three dramatic paintings displayed on the walls in front of you. One of them seems familiar, so you ask Renjun, “Was that one on the left on one of our tests?”

“Yeah, these are all Caravaggio paintings,” he responds. You can’t help but look at him in admiration for his knowledge and passion for art. He must feel your stare and he looks back at you. A smile covers his expression, lighting up his entire being. It wasn’t until now in this perfect setting that you notice how perfectly his hair sits on his forehead in delicate waves, his eyes sparkle as much as the gold embellishments surrounding him, and his smile is that of a fairytale’s prince.

“There they are!” you recognize Xiaojun’s voice and see that the group managed to finally catch up to you. When you turn back, you see Renjun still softly smiling at you and get shy, choosing to break away and join back up with the group.

Your visit in Rome is then completed and you all begin on your way to Florence.

Masterlist

#nct #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #moodboard #schooltrip!AU #nct 127 #wayv #nct dream #Italy #johnny suh #Jaehyun #xiaojun #renjun #sungchan

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awhilesince · 4 years ago

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Thursday, 23 August 1827 (travel journals)

1 55/60

Rain all last night, and rainy morning till between 9’ and 10 – fair when we started – Breakfast from 8 1/4 to 9 1/2 –

off from Bex at 9 50/60 – very comfortable Inn, but not cheap – generally full of English – Lady Ross and her daughter there for a fortnight while the rest of of her party went to the Great St. Bernard – Bex a nice little town – good church – hedges on each side the road of sloe, hazel, and sometimes quickweed, etc

at 10 10/60 wood bridge over little stream – 10 1/4 first appearance of the tints of autumn – valley wider – fertile – mountains well wooded – clouds along them – vines, walnuts, Indian corn, etc etc

at 11, Aigle, quite a ville – 2 churches – castle – pretty large town – narrow streets – no good houses – just a the end of the town, cross wooden bridge over stream –

at 11 40/60 picturesque village – at 12 neat little village –

at 12 55/60 1st peep at the lake (of Geneva) –

Lake Geneva, CC BY-SA 3.0

at 12 20/60 stop at Villeneuve to bait the horses– goodish church of pretty good little town – off at 1 20/60 – the lake too Extensive for me, and the mountains on the south side too low –

Castle of Chillon, CC BY-SA 4.0

at 1 40/60 stop at the castle of Chillon, now used by the government as a powder magazine, and a guard mounted – one family living there – very respectable people – the woman shewed us all she could – the prison, oubliette (3 stories deep – into which those were let down destined to die of hunger) one or 2 of the galleries, one or 2 of the rooms (the great hall – kitchen now occupied by this family) and the court in which some of the prisoners were allowed to walk – the prison 45 by 20 of my common paces – the broadeth of the 1st 6 paces of length equally divided (since in the Swiss power) into entrance and a dungeon (right) – lofty – 8 columns supporting 7 moderately pointed arches down the middle of the prison – BYRON cut with a penknife by Lord B– [Byron] himself, on the 3rd column on entering – the prieure Bonnivard chained to the next, or 4th column – perhaps about 18 feet high to the Top of the vaulting – the prison partly cut out of the Sandstone rock – spacious, and light enough, and airy – quite a paradise compared with the cells of the inquisition at Venice –

40 minutes at the castle, and off at 2 20/60 – very pretty drive along the lake – the back-look upon the castle, and Villeneuve, and its lofty steeple, and the dark, high mountains stretching thence close along the lake towards Meillerie, fine –

after passing the pretty little village of Vernet, very soon alighted at the still prettier village of Clarens so celebrated by Rousseau, and when Lord Byron passed 2 or 3 nights – inquired for the house to which his lordship had taken such a fancy – stumbled upon the very spot – a nut-brown, respectable farmer’s wife of about 60 was proud to tell us how she had entertained his lordship and his friend (some foreign baron) – they were caught in a storm on the lake – his lordship would insist upon it, the house must be an auberge, and would go there – the old woman made all comfortable and his lordship was so pleased, said he would go again, and did afterwards go for 2 nights – she said he had paid her well (for the 1st night) – I had the curiosity to ask what he gave her – a Napoleon – we were all taken with the place – the woman said she had cried like a child, when her brother (who has a very nice house close by – rebuilt on the spot on which stood Rousseau’s house) brought her the paper containing the account of his death – he was so good – had une telle manière – never saw anyone who had such a manner – there, said she, is the little sofa on which he sat writing the night he came in from the storm – there had been a young lady to look at his bed, and she had kissed it 20 times – mylady (Lady B– [Byron]) too had been there, but unluckily the old woman (she looks strong and hale and active) was from home – had taken the key of the room with her and Lady B– [Byron] could not see it – the husband a respectable looking farmer – they have a nice little apartment upstairs (au 2nd) for 9 or 10 napoleons a year, now let to an old couple – went up to see it – the old lady, 80, skipped, and danced, and shewed us all her perfect set of teeth, and chatted away delighted to find Mrs and Miss B– [Barlow] were from Paris where she (Swiss) had made money as femme de charge in high French families – was there during the revolution – 55 minutes with these good people who brought us cake (Swiss gauffers, Excellent etc) and offered wine, or anything they had, and did not get off till 3 40/60 having 1st taken the address of Lord B–‘s [Byron’s] friend Françoise Paoli, née Muzigny, Clarens près de Montreux, a pretty looking little town that we had passed at a little distance up the hill, to the right.

Tour de Piel a good village – alight at the 3 crowns at Veveay at 4 1/2 – got out Miss MacL–‘s [Maclean’s] letter (brought with me from England) and went with to Mrs Falconet Faviholme (pronounced Farum), 3 doors below the Inn – not at home – left a line or 2 in pencil to say how glad I should be to see her for a few moments –

Mrs and Miss B– [Barlow] and I then took a little saunter – to the post-office, and the handsome cornmarket supported on Tuscan columns in the grande place, and came in at 6 10/60 –

sat down to dinner at the table d’hote at 6 1/2 – Mrs F– [Falconet] F– [Faviholme] and her sister came immediately – went up and received them in my bedroom where they sat with me chatting for an hour – promised to go to them for a little after dinner if I could – Mrs F– [Falconet] F–[ Faviholme] reminded me a little of Miss MacL– [Maclean] she is Tall, and thin, delicate looking, quiet, and ladylike, and seems a nice woman – ditto but in a less degree her sister –

then went down to Dinner – people are so long here at the Table d’hôte, I had time enough to get all I wanted and make a good dinner and left the table with the rest at 8 1/4 – then immediately went to the Falconets – 5 brothers, so each for distinction adds the name of his wife to his own, and thus my friends friend is madame F– F[alconet] F– [Faviholme] chatted – drank tea, and sat with them till 9 40/60 – Mr Falconet Faviholme apparently an amiable good sort of man – a Swiss gentleman, I suppose, in manners – but not a thorough bred English man – yet very civil and attentive, and walked back with me – very fine day – not much sun, and Mrs and Miss thought it cold –

reference number: SH:7/ML/TR/2/0012, SH:7/ML/TR/2/0013

#annelistercodebreaker #annelister #traveljournals #mrsbarlow #switzerland1827

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sinceileftyoublog · 4 years ago

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Robert Finley Interview: Ready for the Race

BY JORDAN MAINZER

At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s truly been a long, often hard road for blues and soul singer Robert Finley. On his new album Sharecropper’s Son (out tomorrow on Easy Eye Sound), he delves into his past. Ever since he hooked up with Dan Auerbach on 2017′s Goin Platinum!, Finley’s 60-year backstory has been more often chronicled in the mainstream, from being born and raised in Bernice, Louisiana and enlisting in the army as a teenager to suffering from a car accident, a divorce, and eventually ending his carpentry career after being deemed legally blind. And yes, he never gave up and eventually got lucky, being discovered busking by Music Maker Relief Foundation, touring, releasing an album, and eventually establishing a long-term collaborative relationship with Auerbach. Yet, until now, Finley hasn’t written about his early childhood, being raised along with his 7 siblings on a crop share in Louisiana.

Sharecropping refers to an agricultural legal arrangement where a landowner allows a tenant to use land in exchange for the share of the crops produced. It was a popular arrangement in the South from the Reconstruction to Jim Crow years following the abolishment of slavery; in reality, it was just another way for white Americans to maintain economic hegemony over Black Americans. “You get all the work, and the money never seems to come,” Finley told me over the phone in March from his home in Louisiana. “You always break even, and unless you own the farm, you really didn’t benefit. The checks from the cotton and from the corn didn’t come in your name.” In other words, Finley said, “Sharecroppers don’t get their share.”

Sharecropping was backbreaking, “out in the hot red sun,” Finley sings on the album’s title track, “where the work is never done,” Auerbach’s blistering guitar and keyboards shimmering like rays from the sun. That said, Finley never realized how rough things truly were. “We were poor and didn’t know it,” he told me, citing the fact that because they were never hungry, he actually thought they were rich. “We had cows. We had chickens. We had hogs. We had fresh milk...It was like we were really living it up!” he said. Moreover, since many of their neighbors didn’t have direct access to fresh food, Finley’s father would share their bounty, from meat to vegetables. And, as the youngest son, he spent a lot of time helping his mom in the kitchen, citing that experience as partially inspiring his love of cooking to this day.

With Sharecropper’s Son, Finley is not trying to provide a list of lamentations. “It’s not a pity party,” he said. Even more than not going hungry, Finley cites his father’s optimism and generosity as formative. “My dad, in his religious beliefs, always hoped for better things and a brighter tomorrow...at the end of the day, after picking the cotton, or pulling the corn, we had plenty to give away. I don’t know if my dad sold some of it, but I think he did way more giving than selling.” Eventually, his father “wised up” and gave up sharecropping, and to this day, Finley’s brothers and sisters, despite only his oldest and youngest sister graduating from school, live comfortably. Notably, Finley also holds where he grew up near and dear to his heart. On “Country Child”, he juxtaposes harsh memories of cotton fields with yearning for the more comforting aspects of the South, especially country girls who “give you a country smile.” He mentioned me that the sparse population of rural Louisiana meant that he had to cross rivers just to see his neighbors, but also that folks in a many mile radius knew each other well, to the point that “you could get a couple boards and put them in front of your house, and someone would ask you what you’re doing with them.”

Above it all, Finley learned from both his father’s mindset and his own ability to overcome. “That’s why I tell my story / So you could start dreaming too,” he sings on “My Story”, while the hand percussion-laden “Starting To See” details the symbolic perspective on life he gained after losing his sight. And the album ends with spiritual gospel waltz “All My Hope”. Even better, Finley offers himself up for his listeners, on tracks like “I Can Feel Your Pain”, a church organ hymn where he empathizes with folks suffering from everything from COVID-19 to police brutality. It’s why he stays positive and keeps on keeping on. As someone who walked again after an accident despite the odds and who was “discovered’ so late in life, he doesn’t let practicality tamper his ambitions. “Like a horse in the stall,” he said, “I’m ready for the race.”

Below, read my conversation with Finely, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: What made you want to sing more autobiographically this time around?

Robert Finley: I guess it was a chance to express myself and talk about these true stories. It’s not a made-up fantasy. It’s real life. It’s a chance to tell what life was like being a sharecropper. I was talking to all my siblings--4 brothers and 3 sisters, so there were 8 of us. My youngest sister doesn’t remember that much about it, but I’m the second youngest, so I wanted to get it out while all of us siblings would be able to form their opinion on it.

SILY: Would you say that the pandemic and the reckoning around the Black Lives Matter movement and subsequent increased awareness among White Americans gives these songs extra resonance?

RF: Yeah, I feel like it really opened the world’s eyes to what’s really going on. A lot of times, things happen we just don’t want to talk about, but that don’t stop ‘em from happening. In this case, it was a blessing to be writing about the right thing at the right time.

Even me and Dan Auerbach meeting, that was heaven intervention, too. What do a 30-something year old man and a 67-year old man have in common that can reach the people? It would have to be the music. Music is not a racial thing. Music, to us, is what comes from the heart and goes to the heart. If you need a blood donor or kidney donor, you’re not gonna ask what color the person was or what race the person was who’s giving the blood and giving the kidney. The whole purpose is for you to get the kidney and stay alive. Music is pretty much the same thing. Even if people can’t speak the language, they can feel the vibes of the music. There’s always somebody that can translate what the artist is really saying, but if the music is right, and the message in the music is right, it really doesn’t matter what color the person is or where they come from. It’s all about what comes from the heart and goes to the heart.

That’s where my songwriting comes in. To be able to reach out and touch people, because you want to give people something they can feel, that they can relate to. Not just a cool beat, not just a pretty voice, or whatever. The song needs to have a message that people can relate to. [And] as far as whether it’s soul, blues, country-western, jazz--if you’re looking for rock and roll, you can find it on the album, if you’re looking for soul, if you’re looking for country and western. It’s got a little of everything. That was the goal, and hopefully it’s being accomplished.

SILY: It seems like everybody who works with Dan has a musical connection and shared love of the same thing, even if not a widely known song or album. Do you feel that connection?

RF: Yeah. You gotta have something positive going even for Dan to reach out to you. Dan is looking for originality. People who want to stand out, not someone who’s trying to fit in. He looks for raw talent and gives them [opportunity] to express themselves. He’s open-minded and open to suggestions. He wants to know Robert Finely and produce Robert Finely and not to make me into something I’m not.

SILY: On “Country Child”, you talk about driving by a cotton field as an older man and still feeling your back hurting. But on the same song, you talk about preferring a country girl to raise a country child. Was it important for you to talk about that complex relationship with where you came from?

RF: Yeah. Don’t get me wrong--I don’t have a thing against city ladies--nobody in the city smiles because it makes them look tough and look hard. In the country, they wave at everybody whether they know ‘em or not. It doesn’t matter because everybody’s just saying hi! In the city, people live across the hall or across the street and don’t know their neighbors. It’s a whole different lifestyle. They don’t let their guard down. I was trying to keep it as real as possible.

The country girls, they just wave and smile, and if you say something they don’t agree with, they move on. But they’ll talk for a while, and they give you the benefit of the doubt.

Sometimes, if you’re too friendly, you can become a victim. If you go in the city smiling at everybody, they automatically know you’re not from the city. It’s not what they do. Unless you’re properly introduced, the person across the hall won’t talk to you or know you. It’s all about the approach. But I have learned that a smile is universal. It doesn’t matter what country you’re in. If you smile, people will smile back. If you’re open-minded and open-hearted, there’s always somebody. People will be glad to see somebody who looks at them and smiles. It breaks barriers and opens doors, even for people trying to look hard and tough.

SILY: On a couple songs on here, you improvised the lyrics, calling it “speaking from the heart.” Do you find that the way to go when the subject matter of the song is more difficult to talk about?

RF: Yeah, I mean if you stay real with everybody, it’s not a problem. You’ve gotta be open-minded and open-hearted. Put yourself in anybody’s situation. If you do that, you can see it from their point of view. With all the stuff that’s negative in the world today, it’s good to be positive every chance you get. It needs to be something people can relate to in the real world, or that people can say, “I’ve been through that or I’ve done that.” It’s not something that’s been made up like a fairytale. It has to have meaning where people can say, “Yep, I remember those days.”

I have 7 siblings. They all have to tell the story from their point of view. I try to leave the door open [in case] they want to tell what they remember, because they might remember something I don’t or had to experience something I didn’t. So when I was writing [the title track], I talked to them about it. In reality, I wanted it to be a true song that dealt with real life. Not made up. It needed to be something real they could identify with and their friends identify with where people could say, “I remember those days.” I also definitely didn’t want to make it seem harder than it already was. I only went back to the cotton field and put on the overalls for the video because nobody was wearing shiny shoes in the cotton field. They might have had a pair they put on on the weekend, but they definitely didn’t wear them in the field. The video could have been done anywhere, but to keep it real, I thought we needed to take it back to the country.

SILY: What did it mean for you to play with so many of the same session players as on Goin’ Platinum?

RF: It was like a family reunion. We toured together in the East Coast and West Coast. It was really an honor because everybody knew everybody. Everybody was excited to get back together because of the success of the first album. We built more or less what you could call a family relationship. Everybody knows everybody, and getting back in the studio, we got straight to work, what everybody came for. I don’t know how much time Dan spent with the musicians before I got there. When I got there, it was to lay the vocals down.

What I really noticed is that all the musicians played what they feel. They listened to the groove. And all the local musicians were in a 50-mile radius of each other. I could have them all together within a couple hours.

I was probably the youngest person in the band, besides Dan--I’m almost twice his age. When you’re with the band, it breaks out the best in you. Learning from their experience, everything they’ve done and who they’ve done it with, it makes you feel privileged to be in the company of them. They’re not on big ego trips and nobody has a big agenda. I’m easy. I don’t put no pressure on nobody--I just want the best out of everybody.

I love working with the Easy Eye Sound label because to me, I walk in, meet and greet, we break bread together, and we go to work. The work is hard, but I don’t know if you’d even call it work.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album art?

RF: The label mostly [does it] and asks me for approval. There’s not much I’d object to anyway. It’s a picture of me. I seldom walk outside even to go to the mailbox without my hat on. That’s one of my trademarks. I always wear hats or caps. I love the artwork. To be honest, I haven’t met the individual that did the artwork on it, but it very much had my approval when I saw it. Meeting everybody, sometimes it’s way down the line where I can actually meet them face to face.

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