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skzhocomments · 3 months ago

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A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

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Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Chapter word count: 4.4k words

It was cold.

The winter wind hit your cheeks mercilessly, bringing a chill down your spine and making you shiver.

Why me? You thought, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but not daring to fall yet. Crying made you tired, and you were already tired enough. Your feet were swollen from the walking, your arms sore from carrying the small bag with the few items you managed to take with you, and your back hurt from the weight of your ever-growing belly.

7 months.

That’s how long you’ve been pregnant for.

You were one of the unlucky ones who didn’t see pregnancy as this wonderful miracle the media made it out to be. For you, it was the most horrible thing you could’ve gone through.

The first three months, you’ve been sick and felt the need to throw up each time you smelled anything. Anything. The next 3 months, you’ve felt so tired, you could barely get out of bed. Another nail in the coffin of your relationship. It also didn’t help that your partner has been borderline abusive ever since you told him about the baby – which was the very reason you’ve left at this late hour basically penniless.

And now, the cravings. Damn, these fucking cravings – what made you stop in front of a small restaurant called “Know your Cats”.

What a strange name, you thought and chuckled a bit.

From outside, “Know your Cats” looked like a cosy place. There didn’t seem to be too many people in, probably because of the late hour, but whatever they ordered smelled amazing. You wanted to eat it so badly. So, you went in and sat down at one of the tables in the corner of the small restaurant, as far away as possible from other people. You didn’t dare to take off your winter coat yet, but inside was warm. So warm, it almost warmed up your heart too.

Soon enough, a young waiter approached you.

“Good evening, ma’am, what can I get for you? Considering that I haven’t seen you here before, it must be the first time you come to our restaurant. So, maybe I could bring you something to drink while you consult the menu. Maybe some water?” he spoke quickly in a friendly tone and pulled out a pen and a small notebook.

Watching him talk so fast was pretty funny to you, you thought his chubby cheeks looked amusing when so many words per second would get out of his mouth.

“Uhm… sorry, but…” you didn’t dare raise your head, aware of the light bulb towering above you. After all, you’ve chosen to leave home at such a late hour for two reasons:

1. Your partner was away God knows where.

2. The dark bruises all over you. Ah, and your busted lip, the accessory that completed your look. The cherry on top.

However, the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

“… I was wondering what the people over there are having… it smells really good.”

“Oh, thank you! That’s our dear owner’s speciality! A secret recipe, if you will!”

The boy’s excitement brought a smile to your lips.

“It’s really just a fancy pork ragu.” He whispered, winking.

“Could I please know how much a serving costs?” you spoke quietly, counting in your head how much money you had in your pocket.

$7. Yes, that’s all your dear partner left for you to get some food when he left “on a business trip” 5 days ago. You knew that this was just code for cheating, and you cursed yourself yet again for not keeping your job 5 months ago when your pregnancy symptoms started getting worse. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have endured his abuse for so long.

God, how could you have been so stupid? You weren’t even married, yet you let yourself become completely dependent on him as soon as the pregnancy test came out positive. You let him drag you down, comment on your weight, physically and financially abuse you, yet you stayed for so long. The thought of homelessness weighed heavier than everything else you’ve experienced living with him, until it didn’t.

“That’s $15. Would you also like something to drink with it? I heard orange juice is one of the best drinks to have while pregnant, and the owner makes a delicious one!”

$15. But you only had $7.

He scribbled something in the notepad and kept talking, but you didn’t even hear anything else he said. You just felt your eyes swell up with tears again, your vision getting blurry.

You were so hungry.

You started petting your belly and thought of the small child growing inside of you. There were no words to describe how terrible you felt for putting your future child through this. If you were alone, you wouldn’t mind going hungry, but knowing that you were hurting someone else as well – someone you loved so much already – was killing you.

“I… I can’t afford that…” you smiled bitterly, your voice so quiet, barely audible. “Maybe… there’s something on your menu that’s $7 or less?”

“I don’t think…” the young waiter rubbed his nape apologetically.

“That’s- that’s okay, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” You tightened the coat around your frame and prepared yourself mentally to get up and face the cold again.

Where were you going to go?

You didn’t want to think about it. But oh, you should’ve. You should’ve thought about it long ago and made a viable escape plan. Instead, you left with a small bag, $7 in your pockets and an almost empty phone. You also threw out your keys in one of the trash cans around the building you lived in with your partner, just to make sure you wouldn’t return.

“You know what, please wait a second. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” The young waiter said quickly and turned his back at you, hurrying towards the counter.

Like you had anywhere you could go.

“Hey, everything good? What’s got you running like that?” Minho started, amused by Han’s speed so late in the evening.

“Hyung, what should we do?”

Minho raised an eyebrow.

“There’s this woman – I don’t have all the details, obviously, but she looks… she has bruises all over. And she’s pregnant. And she only has $7 and-”

“Hey, slow down a bit, will you?”

“What I’m saying is” – he inhaled loudly – “let’s give her some food on the house. What do you think?”

“And why would we do that?” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Hyung, don’t be so cold. Let’s help her! Please???”

“Why should we? We don’t owe anyone anything. Who comes to a restaurant with no money anyway?” Minho cursed out.

“You know what? Just go over there and see for yourself, if you don’t want to give her anything on the house, then I’ll pay for her meal myself! Greedy bastard.” Han replied in an annoyed tone.

“Yah, it’s not like business’ been going so well lately, asshole!” Minho rolled his eyes and cursed him out.

However, he wasn’t actually as indifferent as he wanted to seem – and he couldn’t ignore what Han said either. Maybe that’s what made him so special in his friend’s eyes. So, Minho went and grabbed a glass of some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Han said she was pregnant, maybe she has morning sickness? He thought, so he poured out some ginger tea as well. That helped Chan’s wife – one of his closest friends – when she was pregnant. It should help you too, right?

With a glass of juice in his right hand and a cup of tea in his left, he made his way over the bar to the only occupied corner in the room. The loud table in the middle of the restaurant motioned for him to come and requested the check, but Han was right behind Minho, so he took care of them in an instant, seeing them out and locking the door behind them, making sure to turn the “Closed” sign around.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of two glass objects hitting the table.

You raised your head and noticed a glass filled with what you assumed to be orange juice, and a cup with a lid on top, but before you could investigate what was in it, the fresh smell hit your nostrils, bringing a smile on your face.

Ginger tea, your favourite.

A good-looking man took the seat in front of you. He was very beautiful. It was like his face was painted by a skilled artist – his mouth, nose and eyelashes looked perfect, and his skin was flawless, almost making you jealous.

Boys always have the best eyelashes. You thought, glossing over his features once more.

You quickly noticed that what you liked the most about him were his eyes. A deep shade of brown orbs that glistened like stars under the restaurant’s light. And they were looking right at you, observing your every move and mannerism. Catching a glimpse of your own reflection in his eyes made you unwittingly frown.

You noticed quickly what he was wearing: a casual shirt and jeans and an apron. Is he the chef? You questioned, but before you could say anything, the man introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Minho, the owner of the restaurant. Please.” He said, a kind smile forming in the corners of his mouth, while pointing at the drinks he brought.

“Hello, Minho. Thank you.” You smiled back and took a small sip of the orange juice. “This tastes nice. I’m Dal-Rae, by the way.”

Dal-Rae… Minho analysed your name in his head for a few seconds, thinking about how pretty it sounds. And looking at you, it seemed fitting, somehow.

Even with how tired your figure was, Minho could still be able to see behind the fatigue and notice your beautiful features.

“Nice to meet you, Dal-Rae, and welcome to Know your Cats.” He gestured proudly to the restaurant, making you chuckle.

“That’s a very funny name. What’s the inspiration behind it?”

“Well, that would be my three cats.”

“Oh my God, you have three cats?! That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, excited by the new information.

“You think so? Do you like cats?” He asked, his eyes sparkling.

“I love them! I always wanted one but…” but you never considered yourself responsible enough to take care of yourself, let alone of another living, breathing being. Or at least that’s what your partner made you believe about yourself the whole time you lived with him.

“You will never be a good mother” he would tell you. “You wouldn’t even be able to take care of a hamster, let alone a cat. And now you’re pregnant?! How will someone as horrible as you take care of a baby?! Don’t make me laugh!”

And you always believed him. After all, he knew you so well. Right?

“So, why did you keep it? Are you that self-centred? Did you really have to do this so I’ll never leave you?” he would scream at you, forgetting that it took two to tango. Forgetting that he was the one that took off the condom without your knowledge and permission so many months ago.

“You wanna see some pics?” Minho smiled genuinely and took out his phone, shifting your focus back at him. He seemed very hopeful that you would say yes, for some reason.

“I’d love to!” You replied honestly. You truly loved cats. They were adorable balls of fur, and you would cuddle with them all day if given the chance.

“That’s great! Okay, but before that… Jisung? Please bring out some servings of the special recipe for us, will you?” he spoke, and then opened his gallery and started showing you cute pictures of his three cats.

You learnt that their names were Soonie, Doongie and Dori and you pretty much remembered which was which from the first picture he showed you, something that truly surprised Minho. Not even Han knew all their names, and even if he would somehow remember them, he would mix up Doongie and Soonie. But for real now, was it so difficult to remember that Soonie had stripes and Doongie had a white belly? Come on!

“By the way, you can make yourself comfortable and take off your jacket. You must be hot with so many layers on you.” He got up and helped you with your winter coat, placing it neatly on a chair next to you.

“Oh, thank you…”

Jisung brought the food soon after you and Minho made some more small talk. He brought three servings with him and placed a plate in front of you, one in front of Minho and one in front of an empty seat, which he was quick to take.

Both Han and Minho started eating, but you felt a bit… weird. Out of place.

“Anything wrong?” Minho asked concerned, noticing that you didn’t even put your hand on the spoon.

“I… I really can’t… pay for this, unless… you accept $7?” You asked unsure and grabbed the crumbled notes from your coat pockets. You tried straightening out the notes as well as you could, but when you handed it to Minho, you noticed he looked at you with a big frown on his face, his eyes immediately softening.

He put his hands on the one hand you gave him that was still holding the money, and made you close it into a fist. It was his way of telling you that you should keep it.

“Don’t worry about it, you already paid when you listened to this weirdo talk about his cats for 15 minutes straight.” Han replied and patted your shoulder, as if he was comforting you for enduring so much.

“Yah, loudmouth, shut it!” Minho retorted. “And you better start eating while it’s still hot.” He took the spoon in front of you off the table and looked at you expectantly, as you hesitantly put the money back in your coat. When you were done, he placed the spoon in your right hand, gesturing to the food. “Come on, eat. Or do I have to feed you myself?” He kept looking at you, coercing you into trying a bite.

And damn, were you right! It not only smelled amazing, but it tasted heavenly.

“Fuck me, this is so good!” You said with no filter, forgetting for a moment that the men in front of you were, in fact, not your friends.

But eating with them did feel like getting food with a friend. Maybe that’s why you relaxed so much and spoke your mind freely, for what felt like the first time in years. You were not allowed to curse when you lived with your ex. It would start a raging fit from him, because “What kind of woman has such a rotten mouth?”, and you would regret opening your mouth and saying anything.

“Oops, excuse me!” you said, covering your mouth with your hands.

The two men, however, seemed to not mind your lack of manners, and started cheering when you told them that you loved the food.

“Thank you so much for this.” You said to Minho, both of you looking at how Han cleaned up the now empty table in the middle of the room. “Truly.”

“No worries.” Minho replied nonchalantly, his eyes darting away from you. Despite his indifferent tone, his mannerisms indicated that he’s somewhat nervous, as he rubbed his nape in slight embarrassment.

“I… uhm… really feel bad for not paying you at all for this. Like I said, I can only give you this much, but…” you grabbed your coat so you could take out the money again, but before you were able to do so, Minho stopped you by placing his hand on your wrist.

“Please keep them, that’s okay.”

“But…”

“I’m serious.” He looked straight at you, his glance alone convincing you to let it go. You didn’t want to risk annoying him, and it seemed your conversation would take that direction if you kept insisting.

“Okay. Uhm… I should take my leave now.” You said, petting your belly and grabbing your small hand luggage.

“Where are you going? Home…?” Minho treaded carefully, his words holding an inexplicable weight over you.

Home… I don’t have a home anymore.

You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts away, and tried thinking logically for once. Where could you go?

Letting out a small sigh, you replied, slightly dejected.

“Well… there should be a women's shelter about 4 km from here.”

“4 km?! Don’t tell me you plan on walking over there at 1 am in the middle of a winter night.”

You didn’t understand why his tone suddenly changed, and nor did Minho. He shouldn’t give two shits for a stranger, but he was somehow… worried for you?

“I mean… I don’t really have a choice… It’s not that far. I can make it. It’s only an hour walk away.” You replied, trying to convince him and yourself as well. The truth was that you were so tired, you could fall asleep if you put your head on the table, and your feet hurt so bad.

Being pregnant sucked.

“Let me take you. Jisung will be done in a minute and then we can go.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly- You already helped me so much.”

“I don’t even wanna hear it. Han, hurry up!”

“THERE’S STILL THE DISHES LEFT, HYUNG!”

“Just leave them. I’ll do them tomorrow morning.”

“OKAY THEN! I’M COMING!”

Without a second thought, Minho grabbed your bag and gestured to you that you could now go. Han went his own way, while Minho guided you to his car, in the opposite direction.

He opened the door for you and helped you in, actions that somehow made your stomach clench. No one’s acted so nice towards you. Ever.

And he was doing that for a complete stranger.

He started the car and drove to the destination you put in the GPS, and for the first time in your life, you felt an overwhelming feeling of safety. How funny it was – to feel so safe next to a stranger, when you haven’t once felt safe next to your so-called boyfriend – or rather, ex.

You were once again on the verge of crying as you’ve made this realisation in your head. How come you felt safe next to Minho? Was this really how you were supposed to feel next to someone else? Relieved, protected…

How come you’ve never felt this way before, next to your ex?

The 4-minute drive would’ve taken you more than an hour walk in the cold, so you now appreciated Minho even more for giving you a ride.

“So, this is it, right?” He said, parking in front of a small building that had all the lights off.

Weird, you thought and nodded unsure.

You both got out of the car and walked towards the building’s door, a small paper on it drawing your attention, almost burning your eyes.

“Unfortunately, due to a funding issue, the “Stay Safe” Women Shelter had to shut down indefinitely. In case of emergency, we recommend contacting our affiliate, “House of Hope” Homeless Shelter (+0X 0XXXXXXXXX) and they should offer you the help you need. We apologise for any inconvenience!”

The way your face dropped did not go unnoticed by Minho. It became clear to him that this has been your only escape route.

You slowly took out your phone from your pocket and clumsily formed the number on the paper, barely able to see with your screen’s brightness so low. You couldn’t turn it up though, since your battery percentage was so low, so you struggled and squinted your eyes, carefully pressing on each number on your phone, which proved to be so much more difficult through the tears building up in your eyes. It was getting harder and harder to swallow back the lump in your throat.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“House of Hope Homeless Shelter, this is Kelly, how may I assist you?”

“Good evening… I am contacting you because I needed some help and… I was just in front of the Stay Safe Shelter…”

“Oh, good evening, ma’am. Were you looking for a place to stay tonight?”

“Not just tonight… I don’t know for how long…”

“Are you alone, or are there also kids with you?”

“It’s just me… I’m 7 months pregnant.”

“We understand… Unfortunately, our shelter is full at the moment. The government retracted most of our funding, so these are difficult times. However, if you would be able to wait for a few minutes, I will try to contact other shelters to see if anyone would be able to take you in for now.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I will get back to you shortly.”

You let Minho know of the phone conversation and told him to head home, but he was adamant you would leave with him, or at least wait for the phone call in the comfort of the heated car. After some convincing, you found each other listening to some slow songs on the radio, enjoying the car’s warmth and watching the year’s first snow through the windshield.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere, you were restless and anxious. Your hands were trembling, and you couldn’t think straight. Where else would you go?

Minho didn’t say anything either. He kept thinking of ways to calm you down: should he lay his hand on top of yours and tell you that everything was going to be okay? Should he say anything at all? Why was he still with you, anyway?

You tried to think of anything else and ignore the feeling of impending doom settling in your stomach, so you looked out the window. Small snowflakes would land on the car’s hood and immediately turn to water due to the heat.

Your eyes would dart to Minho from time to time, who seemed to be lost in his own little world as he watched the same scene in front of you - the snowflakes dancing in the sky and landing on the car - and you remembered that one belief that watching the first snowfall of the year with someone would lead to falling in love with them. However, it felt like such a foolish thought, you immediately let it go.

25 minutes later, your phone’s ringtone snapped you both out of your trance. You made a mental note to change your ringtone after how anxious it made you feel right now, being sure that you won’t be able to keep hearing it again after this horrendous day.

“Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am? We apologise for the delay. Unfortunately, we were unable to find any shelter close to your location that would be able to accommodate you for tonight. We recommend going to a police station and asking for help, and you could try calling again tomorrow, when possible new resources would be available.”

“I… Seriously?” You started, but when the lady started apologising countless times on the phone for not being able to help you out, you simply ended the call. You wished the earth would swallow you whole, making you disappear for good.

But then you slapped yourself mentally. How could you be so selfish as to wish to disappear? You were not alone anymore. Your body was not yours alone anymore, and your baby didn’t deserve any of your selfish thoughts. You needed to be strong.

“What did they say?” Minho asked anxiously.

Why was he feeling like this anyway? This was so stupid, you thought. You’re no one. You’re just a random woman who stumbled upon his restaurant and took advantage of his kindness.

“They… they aren’t able to help me, so they recommended I go to a police station for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, they’ll make some room…”

“Then, should we go to a police station…?” Minho hesitated.

You snorted and turned to him, answering in a more annoyed tone than you would’ve liked to.

“Do you think I can go to the police looking like this?!”

Minho’s eyes grew wide, conveyed in them what could only be described as shock. You didn’t want to lose your cool, not against this man who’s been nothing but kind to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just… I’m very stressed right now and that didn’t come out as I wanted it to, and-”

“Why? Why can’t you go to the police? Are you trying to protect whoever did this to you?!” Minho cut you off and replied in an equally annoyed tone as you. However, despite the harshness in his voice, you didn’t get the feeling that he was angry. Instead, it felt more like he was scolding you.

“It’s not that! It’s just… I’m scared, okay? I’m scared they will ask me questions and when I tell them the truth, he’ll find out and come get me. He’ll… he’ll definitely find out. He’ll find me, and I’m scared of him. I just want me and my baby to be safe!” You continued, losing your composure for a moment and allowing this dreadful weakness to take over you. You started crying and placed your face steady between your palms, thinking about how pathetic you were being.

“Okay, you know what? I’m sure you are very tired right now.” He put one hand on top of your head and petted it gently, making you raise your face and look at him. His eyes were kind and assuring. “Resting is also good for the baby.” He continued, and as he said that, he put the car into gear and drove off.

“Where…?” you tried to ask, confused, but you ended up choking on a sob.

“Back to the restaurant. I have some extra rooms. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll clear your head and be able to think better.”

“Minho…” you sobbed. “Really? I… I can’t-”

“It’s okay, Dal-Rae. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure everything out tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, but… are you sure…?”

“Mhm.” Minho brushed you off with his hand and continued driving, both of you staying silent, listening to the soft tunes on the radio.

When you arrived, Minho led you upstairs. You were surprised that the place had stairs in the first place, since you didn’t notice them earlier. On the top of the stairs, a door was separating the restaurant and the three-bedroom apartment Minho lived in.

“It’s so the cats don’t go out.” he explained, and you understood what he meant as soon as he opened the door and Dori came running and screaming at the both of you.

“What’s up? Hungry?” Minho replied and scratched Dori’s chin, and as the sounds of his voice rang throughout the apartment, Doongie and Soonie spawned out of nowhere as well.

“Oh my god, hi babies!” You exclaimed and smiled, quickly placing yourself on your knees to pet them, since you couldn’t exactly bend, your belly being so large by now.

You didn’t notice Minho’s smile. He was stuck looking at how quickly his cats accepted you and let you scratch their fur, Soonie even purring against your stomach and petting itself on it lovingly.

“Okay, enough playing, it’s late. Let’s get you up.” Minho put his palms under your arms and lifted you from the ground like you were a kid, bringing a slight chuckle to your lips.

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Chapter 2

29 notes · View notes

recurring-polynya · 2 months ago

Note

For the fic meme! :D <3

5. Quote one of your fics out of context (I feel like this one’s hard, because how does one make a decision about it?? But I’d love to hear what the first quote was that sprung to mind, regardless of whether it’s one you’d have chosen. Tho you’re welcome to choose one, too!)

7. Share the first line of your five most recently published fics

16. What is one of your favorite words or phrases to use in writing?

19. What headcanon do you always include in your stories?

5. A quote without context. I didn't actually want to say the first thing that popped into my mind--I do a fair amount of these memes, so I've had to answer what is my best line/fave line/etc before and naturally those were the ones that floated to the surface. Instead, I tried to just let my mind drift over various stories I had written to see if some particular thing would pop out, and here's what I got:

“I’m not a poet

I can't tell you fancy lies

I’m just a soldier

But there is one thing I know

That girl will run you straight through”

[the context, because I think it would be nearly impossible to find unless you recognize it, which I hope most people who read that fic would]

7. First lines. From most newest to older-est, presented without titles for funsies.

"Why are you asking me?" Rukia frowns. "Renji is a perfectly adequate liar.

"Hinamori," said Renji, "I am not actually going to become an adjunct fighting arts teacher."

"Renji. Renji, wake up. We need to tell you something. Renji. It is the afternoon, Renji, why are you sleeping?"

Unohana Retsu looked on, gently, but attentively, as her Fifth Seat poured her a cup of tea.

"So, the thing about a month-long deployment," said Sixth-Seat Kotetsu, "is that you will not need to be on high alert twenty-four hours a day."

3 and 4 are technically two parts of the same...concept? It's not actually a real fanfic. Anyway, as a bonus, there's the first line from my last big fanfic:

“I don’t know if they’re trying to capitalize on Boy’s Day, or what,” Rukia said, idly inching her hand toward the plate of hot, steaming gyoza sitting on the countertop next to Renji’s stove, “but they’re having some sort of Seafood Festival out in East Sixth.”

I just love a dialogue cold open, I guess????

16. Current favorite phrase. This summer, I feel deeply in love with the writing of Ann Leckie, like, I think she might be my favorite author now. A phrase that Ann Leckie characters use all the time is to respond "Just so," to something they agree with. It's just a great phrase because I feel like you have to have some level of self-confidence, of bearing to go around saying shit like this. It's like "Yes, I am glad you see the truth of this thing that I, obviously, already knew." I am do not feel remotely capable of writing Imperial Radch fanfic, but I do feel capable of making certain Gotei captains say "just so" and now I do. So if you see one of those in my writing, that is me in my Ann Leckie era.

19. Headcanon I always include. "Rukia" is a name that Rukia gave to herself. I don't see any reason that she would know what the name she died under. She was a baby. Name magic is one of my very favorite themes in writing, and this is a very important part of the magic of Rukia's character, to me. I will never, ever say what her original name was, even though Byakuya knows what it is because Hisana told him. It doesn't matter. Rukia is her real name. (Is this why Hisana could never find her...? Perhaps)

(fanfic writer ask game)

#fanfic writer ask game #thank you! you picked such good ones! these were all very fun to answer #i felt a little goofy that my fave phrase is something i lifted from someone else but all of writing and esp fanfic #is about taking little bits and pieces of things you like and making them into your own shiny magpie work of art #at least that's what i tell myself

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kaydreamer · 7 months ago

Text

Viva la Revolution

‘See ya tonight, sunshine.’

During the short walk to her apartment, Hope tried very hard to convince herself that Hancock’s invitation was just friendly drinks and not a date. She tried even harder not to think about how he’d apparently allocated her a pet name, and tried her absolute damndest to believe ‘sunshine’ was probably a term of endearment he used for every girl he took a fancy to.

Then the elevator door slid open, and her eyes fell upon the note he’d written her a few days prior, ‘Good morning, sunshine’ jumping out at her in that eye-catching script.

She groaned at herself. She was not doing this. She was not doing this. He was exactly her type, and her type was invariably bad for her.

She ran a hand through her hair and a small cloud of dust puffed out from it.

“Maybe I should take this shower cold,” she said to Dogmeat. He just tilted his head at her, then pointed his nose toward the pantry where she’d found dog food the last time they were here. She laughed, fetching a second tin and emptying it into a bowl for him as he danced around enthusiastically, splashing the floor with droplets of drool.

“You know, they say the easiest way to a person’s heart is through their stomach,” she said to the dog, as he inhaled the bowl of food. “That’s what this is. He cooked me one breakfast, and now I’ve gone insane.”

Hope left the apartment, refreshed and dust-free, just as the sun was dipping below the barricade outside. She’d decided to leave both Dogmeat and the Minutemen armour behind, telling Dogmeat to be a good boy and enjoy a relaxing snooze.

He hadn’t looked impressed, but he was an obedient fellow, dutifully sitting and watching as the elevator door slid shut.

She caught sight of Daisy as she approached the Third Rail, waving to her with a cheerful smile, which the ghoulish woman returned.

“It seems our illustrious mayor has taken a shine to you, General,” said Daisy.

“Just ‘Hope’ is fine,” she said, sheepish. “I’m sorry to pull him away from you.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Daisy. “He takes off like this every now and then. Not often he does it with a pretty thing like you on his arm, but I trust you’ll put him to good use. When are you heading out?”

“Dawn tomorrow,” said Hope. “We’re meeting for drinks at the Third Rail, to see us off.”

Daisy looked Hope up and down, a frown adding extra creases to the twisting lines of her face.

“You’re wearing that?”

It was such an old, familiar line, and so absurdly out of place in the apocalypse, that Hope had to stifle a laugh.

“It’s either this or go naked.”

Daisy’s eyes grew wide for a moment, then she broke into a peal of laughter. “Oh, he’d like that!” She took Hope's elbow. “Here, come with me.”

Daisy led Hope her over to her store and up a staircase to a second level - her home, as far as Hope could tell - where she began to sort through a drawer of clothes.

“You’re about my size, I think. Let’s see… Oh! This will work.” She spun around to Hope, holding a sky blue dress with white polka dots - well-pressed, pretty, and remarkably preserved. It was a playful design, sitting just above the knee, with a white sash around the middle. Daisy held it up in front of Hope and smiled. “Oh yes, that’s perfect. It used to bring out my eyes the same way… Wear this.”

“Daisy, I…” Hope took the dress in her hands, marvelling at it. It was the kind of dress she would have chosen for a summer picnic, or a day by the sea. Wearing it would be like stepping back in time.

“To be clear, I’m lending it to you,” said Daisy, firmly. “That means I want it back.”

Hope laughed, gratitude flooding her. “I remember what lending means, Daisy.”

“Good,” said Daisy. “You must be the only person in Goodneighbor who does.”

“Thank you,” said Hope. “It’s beautiful.”

“You be careful with it, now,” said Daisy. “It’s one of my favourites. Now, wait there. I think I have an old pot of eyeshadow somewhere…”

---

By the time Hancock reached the Third Rail, he was fighting down a nagging headache bought on by the sheer amount of mayoral bullshit he’d just spent the day slogging through. Giving speeches and looking roguishly dashing up on a balcony was one thing, but whoever knew running a town involved so much fucking paperwork?

But that was about to become Fahrenheit’s problem. At least for a while. Right now, his only job was to spend an evening charming his pretty new travelling companion - and mayoral bullshit or not, he intended to treat her to a good night out.

And so, he left his troubles at the door of the Rail, brushing down his coat and nodding to the bouncer, a tuxedo-clad ghoul named Ham, at the top of the stairwell.

“Evening, Hancock,” said Ham. “You’re in for a treat down there.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll see. Enjoy your night.”

His curiosity whetted, Hancock descended the staircase and cast his eyed around for Hope.

Hancock’s breath caught in his throat when he saw her. Hope was wearing a sunny blue dress with barely a fray on it, a crimped scarf decorating her hair. Her face was subtly done up as well, with a hint of gloss on her lips and powder to darken her eyes. She was perched on a stool by the stage, talking with Magnolia, leaning on the bar with a bright smile and looking like a vision from two hundred years ago.

He stood by the entrance for a few seconds too long, staring like a dumbstruck fool. He didn’t think there was a woman alive who could out-glamour the illustrious Magnolia, but Hope was doing a damn fine job of it.

Ham’s comment suddenly made perfect sense. A flirtatious grin bloomed across Hancock’s face as he cleared his throat, sauntering over to the bar.

“Why hello, ladies.”

“Mayor Hancock, what a pleasure,” said Magnolia, greeting him with a dazzling smile. “I’ve just been talking with your lovely new travelling companion. She’s quite the talent, did you know?”

“Not yet, but I’m lookin’ forward to learnin’,” said Hancock, as Hope flushed slightly. “May I offer you ladies a drink?”

“I’ll have to decline,” said Magnolia, graciously. “A professional always keeps her wits about her on stage. Well, I’ll leave you both to it, shall I?” She rose from her seat. “Lovely to meet you, Hope.”

Hancock held out a hand to Hope, tilting his head toward a couch with a good view of the stage.

“My favourite spot is free. Care to join me?”

She took his hand with a dazzling smile of her own. “I’d be glad to.”

Hancock dragged a low table over to the couch once she was seated, brushing off a rebuke from the potty-mouthed, bowler-hatted Mr Handy who tended the bar.

“C’mon, Charlie, you like caps. How are we supposed to enjoy dinner and all the drinks we’re gonna buy without a table?”

“You could choose one of the other bloody tables,” Charlie grumbled, in his rough Cockney accent, but he did return with two pints of beer.

Hancock raised his glass to Hope, drinking in the sight of her as deeply as the beer.

“Goddamn, you look like ya walked out of a magazine. Where’d ya get that little number?"

“Daisy lent it to me.” The slight flush of her cheeks as she answered was delightful.

“Hah! She tryin’ to kill me?”

Hope chuckled. “Well, considering I told her my only option other than the vault suit was walking in here naked…?”

Hancock shook his head as he huffed with silent laugher. “Cool, she’s not trying to kill me. That woulda killed me. You gotta remind me to thank her. Not that I don’t love the vault suit, but… damn. Now I feel underdressed.”

They both laughed, sipping their beer as Charlie floated back over with two plates of Brahmin roast and a gruff warning not to spill gravy on the couch.

Hope would also need to thank Daisy again for the dress. It was obviously doing things to Hancock, and although she knew she was playing a dangerous game, she was thoroughly enjoying every flattering glance he sent her way.

“So, indulge my curiosity for a sec,” said Hancock, draping his arm along the back of the couch as he turned to her. “You told me how you joined the Minutemen, but not why. People always got their reasons if they’re riskin’ their lives for a cause. Especially fresh outta a vault.”

Hope lifted her gaze slightly as she considered the question, chewing on a piece of roast brahmin. “It’s… I guess it’s just the kind of thing I assumed I’d be doing anyway, if the bombs ever fell, and I somehow survived them,” she said, with a slight shrug. “I used to be a park ranger, before the war. We have training in-"

Hancock’s brows flew up as he cut her off. “Woah, woah, woah, hold up. Before the war?”

She nodded. “Yeah. The vault I was in, it… they had us cryogenically frozen. I only woke up about a month ago.”

“Are you kiddin' me?” Hancock wore an expression of utter astonishment. “Daisy said you told her you were pre-war. She thought you were havin’ her on.”

Hope tilted her head, curious. “Is it that unusual?”

“Unless you’re a ghoul? Fuck yeah. Unusual doesn’t even begin to cover it. Never heard of a vault freezin’ people before. Did you know they were gonna do that?

Hope’s expression soured as a familiar tangle of emotions rose like bile. “No. It was some sort of… sick experiment,” she said, bitterly. “They were testing it on us. I was the only one who got out alive.” She looked down at the beer cradled in her hands. “The only one other than Shaun.”

Hancock leaned back, his dark eyes wide. “…Fuck. You went under pre-war and you just woke up to… this?” He made a sweeping motion with his arm, as though he meant to include the whole Commonwealth with the gesture. “That’s… wow.”

“You can’t even begin to imagine,” whispered Hope.

“Oh, I got a pretty good imagination.” Hancock winked at her with a cheeky grin, and she smiled half-heartedly, but it fell quickly from her face. She was watching the bubbles rising silently in her glass when Hancock spoke again, his voice soft. “…I bet this world feels like one never-ending bad trip you can’t wake up from, huh?”

His words struck a chord in her, and her breath hitched. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”

“I’m sorry, sister. That’s rough.”

“Yeah.” She look a long swig of her beer and shuddered. “But… I’m here now,” she said, summoning the dogged determination which had driven her since she’d stumbled out into the splintered remains of Sanctuary. “And as messed up as this world is, there are still decent people in it, trying to survive. And people like you, making it a little brighter,” she added, tilting her glass to him with a smile. “And I still have a job to do.”

“What job would that be?”

“To help rebuild,” she said, resolute. “Like I said, I was a park ranger.” Hancock frowned at the job title, looking confused, and Hope realised he probably had no clue what a park ranger was. “We worked in areas of wilderness, had training in all sorts of things,” she explained. “Survival, search and rescue, ecology, first aid, firearms. Pretty much everything you’d want to know if you were trying to survive and rebuild in a ruined world.

“Is that why you went into the vault?”

“Ugh, hell no.” Hope’s face twisted with distaste. “God, I hated Vault-Tec. And all their sick, cheery ads about how nice the fucking apocalypse would be if you just spend your life savings buying a room in a metal hole... But Nate - my brother - he was always arguing with me about it. Kept telling me that if the worst happened, the world would need skills like mine. It wasn’t until the bombs started falling that he told me he’d already signed me up with Nora and Shaun, and at that point I just… ran for it.” She looked away. “Just like everyone else.”

She took another large swig of beer. “When I crawled back out of there, I… I guess Nate’s words stuck with me. I’ve got a lot of useful skills. I should use them to help make things a little better for people.”

Hancock raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that, sister. Sounds like you’re already puttin’ ‘em to good use.”

“I’m a little late,” said Hope, ruefully.

“So you overslept by two hundred years, it happens. You’re here now.” Hancock’s cheeky grin returned. “Guess we got lucky.”

Hope felt her own cheeks warming as she smiled. “Anyway, that’s why I joined the Minutemen. When Preston explained to me what they were about, I knew I could help. Hell, I can make more of a difference now than I could before the war.”

Hancock looked at her for a moment. Not a sultry, undressing-her-with-his-eyes look, but a real, soul-searching gaze. “Ya know, I think I’m gonna enjoy travelin’ with ya.”

Hope’s heart skipped. She was touched, but she covered it quickly with a smirk. “And here I thought you only wanted to come so you could stare at my ass.”

Hancock chuckled. “Oh, I’ll be doin’ plenty of that too, don’t you worry.”

“Scoundrel.”

“Only with my eyes, sunshine. Unless you say otherwise.” He added the last part with a wink. “By the way, change of topic. I gotta know - what did Bobbi tell ya her job was all about?”

Grateful for the change of topic, she began slicing into her roast brahmin again. “At first, just digging,” she said, between mouthfuls. “No further explanation. Later? That we were breaking into the storeroom of the Mayor of Diamond City.”

Hancock barked out a laugh. “That bastard? Damn, If she had been tellin’ the truth, I would’a joined in. Still, I’m surprised,” he said. “You don’t strike me as the thievin’ sort.”

“Ordinarily? I’m not,” said Hope, trying a slice of mashed tato with a satisfied little hum. “But that guy had it coming. The way I saw the Upper Stands people in that settlement treating everyone else…?” She huffed. “And McDonough was the worst of them. He reminds me of the politicians we had before the war. Smooth talking and arrogant, out for themselves, damn everyone else.”

“Yeah, sounds exactly like him,” Hancock muttered.

“He told me the Minutemen were irrelevant to Diamond City.” She put on a nasally imitation of his voice, which had Hancock chortling. “‘Diamond city already has the best security in the Commonwealth,’ blah, blah, blah… He wouldn’t help Nick and I when we needed a key to search an abandoned Upper Stands house, either. Said he ‘valued the privacy’ of his voters. Never mind the fact that his city is tearing itself apart in fear of the Institute, and we had an actual lead which could help take the fight to them. Stealing from him seemed like it would be doing the world a favour.”

Hancock stood, clapping her on the shoulder. “And for that, sister, you’ve earned yourself a bottle of the top shelf whiskey.”

“Speakin’ of stealin’ shit,” said Hancock, as he returned from behind the bar with two shot classes and an amber bottle of pre-war whisky he’d been saving for a special occasion, “what’s the story with that line this mornin’ about bad influences?”

Hope took a swig of the whiskey, and an electric shiver zinged through Hancock when she moaned at the flavour.

“Ooh, that’s really nice,” she sighed. “God damn. Hmm. Where to start… How much do you know about the world before the bombs?”

“Not too much, but a bit more than most,” Hancock replied. “I spend a lot of time hangin’ around pre-war ghouls. Picked up a few stories here and there. From what I can tell, it was a hell of a lot nicer than this mess, but to hear Daisy talk, it was a long way from perfect.”

“It was fucking Eden compared to this mess,” said Hope, a shadow falling across her eyes. “The people in power were what spoiled it.” Hancock poured her another glass of whiskey and she knocked it back with another little shiver. “Thanks,” she said. Hancock smiled and gestured for her to continue, topping up her glass again. “I was a hippie,” said Hope. “And not just the chill-and-do-drugs kind of hippie - though I did a lot of that, too,” she added with a laugh. “I was one of the loud, outspoken hippies the people with power absolutely hated. Marched in anti-war protests, blocked traffic, broke into government storehouses, helped hack a few classified databases… even found myself in a riot or two.”

Hancock whistled in approval. Hope grinned and continued her story.

“I fell into that crowd because their ideals matched mine, and I loved the idea of that free, live-as-you-please way of life, but I never really intended for it to go as far as it did. I just… met the right people. The ones with a bit more passion, a bit more courage, who bought out those qualities in me. People like you,” she said, and Hancock felt his stomach flutter and plummet all at once, because what the fuck? He wasn’t that person, and he suddenly dreaded her finding that out. “My parents called them ‘bad influences’,” Hope continued. “I think they were the best people I ever met.”

She sipped at her whiskey again, a fierce, defiant edge to her expression.

“I lost my job over it. Got arrested at a protest. I wasn’t doing anything outright illegal - at least not that time - so they couldn’t charge me. But the good ol’ US government didn’t appreciate its employees speaking out against it. Can’t have a park ranger chanting about how violently annexing a peaceful neighbour for the sake of fucking resources is a shitty thing to do.” She looked up at him, and her sour frown turned into a sardonic grin. “It’s a bad look.”

They both laughed, and Hancock raised his glass in a toast toward her before knocking back its contents.

“You’re a pre-war fuckin’ hippie with a taste for revolution?” he said, eyes sparkling. “And you’re hot. How the fuck are you even real?”

“I could just be a hallucination,” she teased, leaning in. “Too much Daytripper and hard liquor. You could be talking to Charlie.”

Hancock absolutely lost it at that, melting into the couch as they both dissolved into helpless laughter.

“Fuckin’… goddamn,” he said, once he had breath enough to talk. “I’m gonna be real mad if this is all one big jet flashback.”

“Same,” said Hope, wiping away tears. “Fuck, I haven’t laughed so much since way before the war. I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have a hell of a time gettin’ rid of me,” said Hancock. He filled both their glasses raised his again. “You’ll have to forgive me butcherin’ how this is supposed to sound, it ain’t my line and I only heard it a few times from an old ghoul, but - viva la revolution!”

“Viva la revolution!” Hope echoed, in disjointed chorus. “Didn’t work out last time, but hey,” she winked, passion and fire glinting through the bar light reflected in her eyes. “This time, I’m building an army.”

She knocked back her whisky again.

“Round. Fucking. Two.”

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout hancock #fallout ghoul #hancock fo4 #hancock fallout #hancock x sole survivor #fallout fanfic

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riddles-n-games · 1 year ago

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So we all know the Hawthorne brothers are all fine as heck Texan born-and-raised gentlemen which means other than the fancy schmancy stuff they do throughout the series, they probably know how to ride. And I don’t mean English riding, I mean down and dirty in the dusty sand, bucking bronco Western riding. Given that ole Tobias Hawthorne was loaded, not only did he make riding lessons an essential for his grandsons but he also owned a big-ass stable on his property. I know it’s never mentioned in the books, only that Vincent Blake owns a ranch, but you can’t convince me otherwise that this Texan billionaire didn’t have his own stable on the property. No chance, no way; I think he’d be considered a fraud if he didn’t. Anyways, when the boys were comfortable in the saddle and more skilled with controlling their horses and riding, only then did their grandfather start making them choose specialties. As they got older, they took part in rodeos and competitions, producing another bout of trophies for the old man to put up in his office. Like always, the boys proved Hawthornes came and conquered, being the best of the best.

Nash-Of course, this man’s the best of the bunch. He is the most experienced and rather well rounded in all disciplines. It’s part of what lets him live his cowboy fantasies but he does have practical use for what he learned. His grandfather has many prized cattle breeds, mostly the famous Texas Longhorns along with Ankole-Watusi, American Brahman, and even water buffalo (Hawthorne cheese is where it’s at) so he often leads the cattle roundups and if he ain’t a sight to see when he’s roping up stray calves (those muscles though; I see you Nash). As said earlier, he’s pretty good at everything in this style of riding but competitively, he’s mostly into western pleasure yet also enjoys reining just about as much. His Appaloosa-Quarter Horse mare, Chili Pepper (yes, named by the one and only Xander and no, it’s not because of Horseland; if you know, you know) excels at these and is a bit of a showoff (Nash is pretty sure the feisty thing is self-aware whenever she prances sassily around the ring after a win). But, for them, that’s easy stuff, light work, and Nash likes a bit of an adrenaline rush now and then so on the more energetic side of things, his favorite event is cowboy mounted shooting. In practice, he’d sometimes sneak out one of his grandfather’s Winchester rifles to get a kick out of it (lowkey this boy always tried finding small ways of rebelling against his grandfather’s wishes). However, when he was 19, he quit the rodeo shows and big competitions in another effort to show the old man he didn’t have control over him and that actions spoke louder than words. Nowadays, Nash does mostly local events for the fun of it but has attended some major ones in the last few years, twice at the State Fair and once at the Calgary Stampede; Xander and Jameson even went with him in a show of support.

Grayson-Though he prefers English riding and excels in classic dressage, his Western specialty is cutting and his Arabian stallion, Onyx (known as Bandit Noir in the show ring) is a nightmare for the calves when he starts switching sides at lightning speed with his front legs. Sometimes he gets so excited after Gray has singled out a calf that he starts zipping towards it in a zigzag motion that Grayson has to restrain him a bit so that he doesn’t go overboard. When he was younger, he trained him to do this move after he watched a documentary showing gazelles use this technique as an evasive maneuver to escape cheetahs and thought it was a cool trick. He perfected it in two months flat. His Shagya Arabian mare, Moonlight, is more calm but her focus is unmatched when she’s cutting and she’s also his chosen horse for working equitation. Grayson was the one who inspired Xander to also learn this discipline and they would do training sessions together; he also let his youngest brother ride Moonlight in competition at times. Surprisingly, he also did barrel racing alongside Jameson and of course, these two got very competitive over this sport. They set several records at competitions and even a few national records at rodeo events but Jameson had more in the end.

Jameson-Barrel racing, need I say more? It’s his favorite event and discipline of choice. The faster his horse goes, the better the thrill and the dizziness to go along with it. His Nokota stallion, Rhubarb, is the speediest barrel racer of the Hawthorne horses and proudly bred by his grandfather. For fun, he would get more barrels and see how fast he could go bareback and one time the crazy boy decided it would be a good idea to ride backwards while his steed ran the course. Of all the brothers, Jamie’s the one who loves the riskier events (because of course, not that that’s surprising) including saddle and bareback bronc riding, calf-roping, steer wrestling, even bull riding (steer riding until he was 14). But he’s also the one who has the most bruises and scars from Western events. He was banned from doing bull riding after Nan attended two of his competitions and both times the rider before him had a nasty fall, ending up in hospital. Jameson may have never fallen in the most major competitions but he did have some close calls with being almost run over and even suffered a bad kick to the ribs during one of his practice runs. Although the old woman is weathered from her rough years and is still a badass, she still cares for her great grandsons very much and hates to see them get hurt. So as reluctant as he was to leave the sport, for his Nan, he did. Occasionally he also participated in team roping with Nash, always taking up the heeler position while his brother handled the horns because Nash didn’t want him to get hurt until he got older and insisted on trying the header part for himself. He got used to it quickly from all the times he watched Nash during practice seshes but his oldest brother always watched off to the side with pursed lips knowing his risky behavior. They were three time champions in a row from 2016-2018 with one time him being header. Being the adrenaline junkie he is, it’s no shock that he loves doing stuff at breakneck speeds and other than barrel racing, he is amazing at pole bending. Jameson enjoys a good test of agility and has a great Mustang-American Paint mixed mare named Misty who whizzes by the poles so quickly that everyone in the stands is always quoted saying they blinked and missed the entire round.

Xander-He was a bit more reluctant to even start out any events but Nash and Grayson coaxed him into them and eventually he got settled quite quickly into trail class, working cow horse, mounted drill with Jameson and Grayson, and versatility ranch riding. He dabbled in western dressage but got annoyed with it because he never felt synchronized enough with his horse and his trainer got frustrated with him many times. Trail class ended up being his major and he trained with two Quarter Horses that were bred by his grandfather, Rona and Rolo (nicknamed Roly Poly). He would switch between the two and both were extremely good at delivering but Rona, his mare was ultimately better equipped and motivated while his gelding, the mare’s full blooded younger brother served better in mounted drill. Xander conducted experiments to see as to why but it seemed like the gelding thought the routines were simpler to learn and always finished with a happy buck when they finished. But as he got older and hit his growth spurt, Xan felt like his height was becoming a negative factor to riding anymore of his horses in competitions so he stopped. His grandfather offered to buy him a ready, trained horse better suited to his stature so he could continue but Xander declined since he didn’t want to restart with training and he was awfully attached to Rona and Rolo. Instead, he continued competing but in halter and western showmanship classes where his horses shined just as brightly with shiny ribbons often being pinned to his horses’ halters as a prize.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this! This has been sitting in my drafts way too long but @hathorneheiress has given me the push I needed to get it out here for you guys to read. It's only part one of my horse headcanons. There will be more about the Hawthorne family's current horses and their equine history in the next one.

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betterbooktitles · 8 months ago

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On looking older than I am:

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15. I attended a boys’ catholic prep school and because my parents and I were taking a few college campus tours during our family trip, and you never know who you might bump into, I chose to wear the tie and khakis I would normally wear in class. I had chosen an aqua shirt with a bright textured gold tie that morning and was still wearing it when I approached the front desk that evening. I promised my English teacher I would have a late assingment on his desk Monday morning despite my travel schedule. I had finished writing it on my mom’s laptop and put it on a flash drive.

“Is there an office in the hotel with a printer?” I asked the woman at the front desk. I deepened my voice. “My boss needs this report ASAP.”

The woman behind the desk wore a maroon and beige polo shirt with the name of the hotel embroidered on one side and a fat plastic name tag that read “Jess” on the other. She kept her curly brown hair tied back behind her head and looked like she was ready to take a nap rather than help one more jerk fix his malfunctioning room key or find the hotel’s office. She smiled though and led the way. We walked through a large banquet hall that looked like it was hosting a wedding or prom. Pink uplighting and one of those whirling balls with differently colored light filters spun around and painted the room. I watched fat white men in suits sip cocktails out of plastic cups and flirt with young women half their size and age. A number of them wore saris.

“What is this?” I said aloud.

“It’s a party for the IMF.” the woman said. “You’re not with them?”

“No, I’m on a different kind of work trip.” I said.

She kept walking until we found a door on the side of the room. Bright tube lighting poured into the mock nightclub when she opened it. I hurried in so as to not disturb the party atmosphere too long, and to my surprise, she shut the door behind us and stayed to watch me use the office.

Computers in 2002, especially out-of-date communal ones used by everyone in a hotel, were not very fast. The fat glass monitor was already on, and when I opened the browser, I had a good two minutes to chat, which the hotel employee seemed keen on doing.

“So where are you headed?” She asked.

“Well, it’s here tonight, then New York, then upstate somewhere, back to Cleveland.”

“Busy weekend.”

“Yes, we’re- I’m trying to squeeze in a lot.”

We talked about my work. I vaguely said I was on a deadline for a writing assignment which made me sound like a journalist or someone with an entry-level publishing job. At some point, she said she was glad I wasn’t with the loud bankers because I seemed too nice and cute to work with them.

Was this happening?

I found my little essay about Chaucer and clicked print. As a printer the size of a Fiat whirred to life and started pumping out the pages, the woman said:

“I’m actually off the clock now if you want to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

I put the essay in a folder (not a professional manila folder, a high school-ass, bright glossy blue folder with my school’s logo on it) and followed her to the hotel bar.

I ordered a beer in the annoying fake way people do in movies: the actor walks up to the bar and instead of checking what’s on tap or thinking of their brand of choice like ‘Bud’ or ‘Stella’ or even naming a type like ‘stout’ or ‘pilsner’ the actor confidently says “I’ll have a beer” and the extra playing the bartender wordlessly gets to pouring.

“I’ll have a beer!” I said to the bartender who squinted his eyes at me and cocked his head.

“OK…” he pointed at Jess, who still had her uniform and name tag on.

“Jack and Coke, Ben.”

I sipped the beer slowly. We drank and talked about work and if Jess was going to bite the bullet and go to grad school. She asked if I wanted, when we finished our drinks, to go with her to a house party up the street.

“We can smoke a bowl, listen to my friend play some music. It’ll be fun.” she assure me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, “We’re- I’m… I have an early morning.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at her drink.

I now realize that every coy excuse I made sounded like I had a girlfriend or wife at home and I maybe had a problem with drugs and alcohol that might make me do something I regretted. I was playing an adult better than I ever had in my life.

“So, someone is with you in your room, then?” Jess asked nervously.

“Yeah. There are people in my room.”

And here, dear reader, I’m sorry (or happy) to tell you that I fessed up.

“I’m staying with my parents.” I said.

“Oh. That’s sweet. Are they meeting up with you on this trip? Where are they from?”

“We drove here together from Cleveland, actually.”

“Oh, OK.” She said, looking confused.

“I- You see. I’m not on a work trip. I’m seeing schools.” I looked at the bartender who was pretending not to listen on the other side of the empty bar.

“Grad schools?”

“No. Listen. Sorry. I’m in high school.”

“Wait- how old are you?”

“I’m 15.”

“Jesus. Uuughh!” She leaned her torso over the bar as if she was fainting, and looked up at me with one eye over her glass. “Oh, boy. I know how to pick ‘em.”

“I look older,” I said, consolingly.

“Yes. You do. Oh, God. Wow. OK. Ummm.” She sat up and did a little drum roll with her hands on the bar.

I chugged the rest of my beer.

Read the rest of the essay here.

#lit #memoir #essay #writing #long reads #long post #funny #weird #memory #dan wilbur #story #storytime #amwriting #youth #teens

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fallingforel · 1 year ago

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SECRET SANTA: SAM FENDER

just a small christmas imagine for sam: from @abiiors christmas prompt list. I will be posting the 12 from Now until 25th so you get a little christmas pressie from me- El xx

words: 1,965

⋆｡°✩

Sam, Dean ,Both Tom’s , Heidi, Joe, Johnny, Drew and I were all in Lowlights after Sam’s Last performance in Newcastle before christmas. And we were organising our annual Secret Santa, we had done it every year, adding in everyone else when they had joined our friendship group.

“Okay heids, go and get a glass sam you get some paper, I’ve got a pen, we’ll draw them from a glass in true Geordie fashion” I said after we all agreed and we set a budget and when we were exchanging.

We were set to go into London in 2 weeks for the OD management christmas party and we were all travelling down together so we agreed that we’d do them in a hotel room, before we went out.

“Why the fuck do you Y/N L/N, of all the people have a pen” Sam said with a chuckle. “because in case I need to write things down, Samuel Fender” I replied back.

I had got Sam. He was easy to buy for, I could get him a jokey present but that would just seem like I didn’t care about him I decided I would go all out because sam deserved that especially after everything he had done for me through the pandemic and throughout the many years of us being friends since year 7. Also because I had fancied him, for many years. But no one knew apart from my diary and my mum. As soon as I pulled out his name I knew of the perfect gift that would make his cheeks split.

⋆｡°✩

1 week before Secret Santa- Sam

“who did you get for secret santa?” “heids I’m not telling you, you’ll only want to swap” “I promise I won’t.” “no Because I know you, I have finally got the person I want after waiting years.” “thanks for telling me you’ve got Y/N.” “HOW HEIDS? HOW?” “oh please, you two are so smitten with each other, have been for years. She’s got you too by the way.” “and how the fuck do you know that?”

“I saw it on her face, the same look she gives you when you buy her a drink, the same look she gives you when you lend her your jacket when she forgets hers, the same look she gives you when you insist that she should take the tenner she spent on your food at the shop. the same look she gives you when you both spot her ex out in public and you send them a nasty look. It’s LOVE sam. She’s in love with you, Your in love with her. it’s easy to see. Just grow a pair of balls and get her that 1975 vinyl she’s been nonstop going on about, you know she won’t buy it for herself.”

“THANK YOU HEIDI, you have just given me the perfect gift idea. See you in a week?” I said before placing a kiss on her head.

“see you in a week sam.”

now to plan the perfect gift.

⋆｡°✩

3 Days before Secret Santa

“and your sure it’s in perfect condition, mum”

“certain, your dad never took it out of the packet, it’s brand new, it’s not been anywhere damp, he kept it in the house. he was saving it for the perfect day, no clue when that would’ve been though. It’s only collecting dust here darling. Take it, use it” “I won’t be using it, Sam will though. I knew when I picked his name out this would be the perfect gift.” I said with a smile to my mum “Oh darling, he’ll love it, who knows maybe you’ll gain the courage to tell him this christmas period.” “maybe. depends.” “I think you should just gain the courage and do it. you’re both not getting any younger” she says with a chuckle walking off.

⋆｡°✩

2 days before Secret Santa- Sam

“and your certain you’ve got a copy mate?” “certain, we get a copy of all the variations in perfect condition so we can announce them” “good this needs to be perfect.” “why? so you can impress your lady friend?” the older boy teases over the phone. “howay man. it’s just….nah yerd be right about that mate. she is my lady friend. And yer sure you’re gonna make it over tomorrow?” “yes mate, wouldn’t miss it for the world, she’s a class girl. you’ve chosen yourself a gooden there sam mate” “reet… best be off, you’ve got a train to catch a thing to find and I have a card to write” “yes, you’re getting us from the train station tonight at 10 right?” “reet. youse are geena have to find yer hiding spots tonight like” “don’t worry we will”

⋆｡°✩

2 DAYS BEFORE SECRET SANTA

Sammy🕺- guys I know we agreed on 2 days time for secret santa, but would you mind doing it tommorow, it’s just cos mines too big to bring with me to London on the train without being noticed. deaaanooo🎸- sam mate, could you not have said this earlier I haven’t even bought mine yet drew🥁-yeah i agree with dean mate, I haven’t bought mine either. heids 💕- fine with me i’ve already bought mine. Dean and Drew, love you both, but you’ve had 2 weeks now get it together, but if you’ve got me just get me a gift card, you know those ones you can get anywhere. Y/n🪩- I agree with heids, you have had two weeks to get a gift for yours, everyone has. but if you have got me, i’d love some penis pasta would go great with my girls nights xx y/n🪩- that was a joke, please just get me a gift card x Joe🎹- what the hell why is Y/n talking about penis pasta? y/n🪩- sam wants to do secret santa tommorrow instead of two days time. please tell me you haven’t been idiots like dean and drew and have already got a gift for your secret santa. the penis pasta was a joke xx. Joe🎹- yeah i’ve got mine, tomorrows fine with me. look lads if you’ve got me get one of those crosswords puzzles, be great to do on the bus or studio during quiet time. Tom U🎸- Just read through the messages, aha I’ll make sure to get you some penis pasta for your birthday y/n. but yeah tomorrow’s great, mines tiny so… Tom C 🎓- yeah tomorrow’s okay, nobody better have gotten me penis pasta, cos that shit will be going straight back. Johnny 🎷- tomorrows good, I love that penis pasta has become the topic of conversation now ahahahah🤣🤣 y/n🪩- you know what I’m just going to assume that Dean and Drew have gone out to the shops now, so their going to come tomorrow, if not two people are going to be left without presents tomorrow…I apologise on behalf of the two idiots xx. Y/n🪩- sam what time are we all to arrive at yours tomorrow? Sam🕺- is 9pm good? we could all go out on the toon after? we haven’t got to get that train until 6 in the afternoon anyway? y/n🪩- Sounds good! i’ll go knocking on everyone’s doors on the way to yours anyway, funny how everyone lives on the way to yours from mine🤣🤣 sam🕺- yeah, the organisers of everything live on opposite sides of the town and then the people they drag along live on the way, funny how life works out huh? 🤣🤣 y/n🪩- absolutely hilarious, see ya at 9 tomorrow xx

2 DAYS BEFORE SECRET SANTA- HEIDI

“You were expecting sam right?” I ask, i’ve seen them all over y/ns instagram, so I know just what they look like and who I was expecting at the north sheilds train station.

“yeah kinda, who are you?” “look, it’s on a need to know basis, it’s just sam had to drag me along to come get you, because he can’t be seen in the papers, because of y/n Yadda yadda. He’s in the car waiting.”

“won’t they take pictures of us though?” the tallest one asks. “no. I’m not famous enough and you boys are wearing caps and sunglasses so I think you’ll be just fine.” I say hurrying them through the barriers.

“now hurry along before Drew and Dean catch us.” “Who?” the long haired one asks while walking down the stairs. “you’ll know tomorrow when you meet the rest of them.” “wait I thought it was just the one person. sam said he only had one person to give the gift to.” the married one says. “yeah well it’s a secret santa and we’re not really meant to know… so it’d be a bit weird if sam gave Y/n her present tomorrow and the rest of us had to wait 2 days…Just get in Sam will explain the whole thing.” I reply opening Sam’s car door for them. “I don’t think we’re all going to fit.” the curly haired one says.

“duh, I was only here for the ride, I need to go find out what drew and dean have bought. I need to make sure it’s not penis pasta. see ya all tomorrow.” I reply shutting them all in sam’s car and walking off into town to find drew and dean.

⋆｡°✩

THE NEW SECRET SANTA DAY-8 pm.

I was getting ready to leave for sam’s. his present all wrapped up. I was just curling my hair before i had to leave and go and get the rest of the gang. and my phone rang out so i popped my curlers down.

SAMMY🕺

his name appeared on my screen so i answered it

“hey sammy, You okay?”

“yeah i’m good y/n. erm can you look out your window?”

“yeah of course, 2 seconds”

my heels clicked across my lino floor for a few seconds until I reached my bedroom window which I looked out of and found Sam standing outside.

wait... is that?

no... it can't be.

they don't even know each other. I examined them further, it was them. How they knew each other I had no idea. I rushed downstairs and out the door and flew into sam's arms. "do you like your secret Santa, darling?" He says before I break the hug to "like it? I love it. Thank you." I say placing a kiss on Sam's cheek before Matty clears his throat next to sam and then saying "shall we get on with it mate, times ticking?" "yeah we should. Yer got the music?" "course otherwise this would be a fail." Matty guffaws at sam "alreet." and all of a sudden the backing track of Mine plays. and matty starts singing "there comes a time in a young mans life" while sam runs round his car and joins george on the end and then by the time matty reaches the second verse the rest of the 1975 boys and sam hold big a2 posterboard cards up that read "will you be my girlfriend?" I nod and run around to where sam was stood and he pulls me in for a kiss dipping me down, while the rest of the boys whoop and cheer. When he brings me back up I say "I'm guessing you got me for secret santa then?" he nods "good cause I got you too"

⋆｡°✩

"ahh tonnight was well fun" I say reminiscing on that night

"I love that i finally got yer, I remember yer face when Matty gave yer the rare australian vinyl signed" sam says "please my face? what about yours when I gave yer that rare springsteen vinyl? yer were streaming tears like." "yeah, well I'm just gonna get yer penis pasta next year" "yer wouldn't dare" I say gasping while narrowing my eyes at him "Oh I would."

#sam fender imagines #sam fender x reader #sam fender imagine #sam fender fanfic #sam fender #matty healy #sam fender x y/n #sam fender x you #christmas prompts

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simslegacy5083 · 6 months ago

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NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep. 106: So Much to Celebrate

Now that Noemi and Luigi’s island home was setup for living, all their guests could get comfortable and enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Peachy , Anderson, and Gilbert were most comfortable in the kitchen, quickly staking out a spot at the counter to make their signature dishes.

While Peachy and Anderson bonded over their favorite gourmet recipes Gilbert claimed he was “no fancy chef”, but he was happy to grill up his girls' favorite “toasty” in the sandwich press he’d purchased as his housewarming gift to the pair.

Gilbert’s daughter knew all these sims well, but so many of them in one place was still a bit overwhelming. She retreated to their quiet dining alcove and invited Amaya, Isra, and her old friend Kenzie to join her there as a bubble of friendly conversation to block out the crowded scene.

Noemi smiled when Amaya enviously told her “you’re still looking perfectly pregnant as ever I see” – pointing at her friends own full term stomach and remarking “well I’d say your soccer ball has also ballooned out quite nicely!” When Isra asked “when are you due?”, they responded in unison “any day now!” laughing as they agreed that they were ready to give up their rounded bellies and finally meet their sons.

“Are you sure Luigi is OK with you inviting me to the party?” Isra continued “Oh yes” Noemi said, sharing a grin with Amaya. “That’s a funny story actually…”

While the ladies were filling Isra in on their shared romantic history, at the other end of the house Beau had popped his present into the video gaming console and challenged his highness to “try and keep up”.

Denton grabbed a third controller, grinning at the face his cousin was making at his ex-rival as he settled down to join them in a little friendly competition.

Anderson’s waffles and Gilbert’s toasties came out perfectly, but some combination of bad installation or wiring in the new, high end, oven range made Peachy’s first batch of cupcakes go up in flames!

As the fire alarm started blaring everyone rushed in to see what was the matter. Thinking fast Anderson grabbed an extinguisher from under the sink while Peachy summoned one of his own, the two sims working together to quickly put out the blaze.

One Repairo spell later Peachy was ready for a second attempt, and this time the Foxbury themed dessert he’d chosen to celebrate the couple's graduation baked up without incident, soon joining the other two sims delicious offerings on the side table.

After they ate Noemi pulled her father aside to get some advice and comfort from the man who had helped calm her mind ever since she was little.

She’d never fully gotten past the fear of death brought on by the dehydration scare in her second trimester. The fire had brought all those worries surging back to the surface. If it hadn’t been for Anderson’s and Peachy’s quick action she didn’t want to think about what might have happened.

Her father reassured her that although death was a natural part of living, it was still far away for her, and even farther away for the wonderful little grandbaby she was almost finished making. They would both have long lives to come to terms with the idea of leaving this world behind, and maybe by the time they were elders they might even look forward to “moving on to the next world” as much as she was looking forward to birth now.

Just as they were finishing up their conversation Noemi heard Luigi calling out her name. Heading his direction, she found him standing with his own father, who was holding out a giftwrapped box covered in… holes?

Luigi opened the lid and smiled in delight at the tiny furry head that immediately popped into view. Peachy told his son “If your papa were here, he’d say that every sim needs a feline friend, and so I thought this little girl would be the perfect gift for your new little boy”.

Luigi teared up a bit at that, thanking his dad and cuddling the tiny kitten close. When he turned to Noemi and asked what she thought they should name her she only hesitated a moment before replying “Blossom” since she thought their new baby cat looked “just as sweet and soft as a flower”.

Little Blossom was just one of many gifts the pair were lucky enough to get that evening, but Luigi didn’t expect one of his favorites to be bestowed upon him after stumbling onto his fiancée and his ex chatting together in the nursery.

Noemi had shied away from the camera as her pregnancy had progressed, her struggle to accept her changing body making the idea of taking photos hard for her. He could hardly believe his ears when, chuckling, she let Amaya pull out her phone and snap a photo of the two of them to “remember this momentous occasion”. It was one of the only pictures he would have of her carrying their son and he intended to cherish it.

As Noemi left to begin seeing their guests off towards home Luigi offered Amaya a sincere thank you. She archly replied “it wasn’t for you, hot stuff, but you’re welcome” before making her way over to Noemi to say goodbye to her friend.

By the time everyone had gone Noemi and Luigi were ready to call it a night. They couldn’t, however, settle down to sleep without taking their expensive new canopy bed for a test drive!

After a bang-up time under the covers, they cuddled up close in their favorite position, drifting off safe in the comfort of one another's arms.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

#sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims4 #sims 4 nsb #sims 4 not so berry #sims4nsbstraud #sims 4 let's play #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 lets play

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wh0reyp0tter · 2 years ago

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SERIOUSLY NEED THE REMAINING CHAPTERS OF THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE NOW. RIGHT NOWWWWWW UGHHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH. GIVE ME MORE SLOWBURN ANGSTY JEALOUSY SAPPHIC HERMIONE FICS PLEASEEEEEE AHHHHHHHHHHH

A/N:

Hi Guys!

I know it's been a REALLY long time but here we are! I'm sorry for leaving everyone hanging but A LOT of shit happened... But anyway, here we are, chapter four!

Y/N Y/L/N is chosen as one of the champions in the Triwizard Tournament with one of her best friends, Harry Potter. Along with the struggles of being one of the champions, she also has to navigate her feelings for her best friend, Hermione Granger. But, as far as Bex knows, Hermione fancies Krum.

Includes: Angst, pining, swearing, wlw, bi!reader (mentions of flirting with men), smut, name-calling, Krum hating, fighting, physical violence, fighting, mentions of injuries, and flirting

___________________________________________________________

Music rings through the Gryffindor Common Room as everyone cheers. I grin at the crowd as I walk through it. I feel people patting me on the back as I come down from changing. I see Hermione standing in the corner next to a girl from the year below us. “Hey ‘Mione!” I call. She looks at me and ignores me as she returns to her conversation. I tap her shoulder, she still ignores me. “If you’ll excuse her.” I say politely to the girl she’s speaking to. I grab her arm before tugging her to a secluded area of the room.

“What the hell?” Hermione seethes.

“I wanted to talk to you! You haven’t said a word to me since this morning!” I say in a hushed tone.

“Has it occurred to you, maybe I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Hermione replies.

“Why don’t you want to speak to me?” I ask, confused. I hear a voice call my name. I look over to see Avery wave me over. I smile at her as I hold up my pointer finger.

“That’s why,” Hermione scoffs.

“What?” I say confused. “Avery?”

“Yes! Bloody hell, I told you I didn’t trust her,” she replies.

“You don’t even know her, H,” I argue.

“I know I don’t like you being with her,” she seethes.

“What?” I ask.

“I don’t like you being around her,” Hermione repeats. “It pisses me off! You called her Dove.” Her voice grows quieter at the end of her sentence.

“Sorry, but you’ve been so busy being shoved up Krum’s arse that I’ve barely seen you besides classes and at night!” I argue, my voice growing louder.

“I don’t spend that much time with him!” She scoffs.

“Notice how you were his treasure today? You know who mine was? Fred. You’d think it’d be you, but nope. You’re in love with Krum now!” I laugh.

“His name is Viktor!” She exclaims.

“I don’t give a fuck what his name is. You have no right to try and tell me I can’t be involved with Avery while you’ve blown me and the boys off every moment you can to hang out with that git. Or is it just me?” I ask. Hermione’s silent as I shake my head. “I gotta go. Avery wants me.” I turn and walk away from the small girl as I walk up behind Avery and wrap my arms around her middle. I rest my head on her shoulder as she smiles.

“Hi love,” she hums.

“Hello, Angel,” I smile. “What are you doing?”

“Just chatting,” Avery replies.

“Sounds boring,” I whisper into her ear.

“It is,” she whispers back. I grin happily as I tug her closer to me as I tuck my face into her neck.

“How was your day, Dove,” I say against her skin.

“Stressful, you gave me quite the scare today,” Avery says as she rubs my arm.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it better?” I ask as I press a soft kiss to her neck.

“You could stay in my dorm tonight,” Avery replies.

“Sounds good to me,” I grin. Avery leans her head back against mine as I kiss her forehead.

A few hours go by until the party dies down. I feel Avery’s body slumped against my side as I help her up the stairs. She’s babbling drunkenly as she presses her lips to my neck.

“Ave, what are you doing?” I ask as I push her face away.

“Kissin you,” she mumbles as she tries to kiss my lips.

“You’re drunk, not right now,” I say as I push open the door to her dorm. I see one of her friends sitting on her bed. “She’s drunk, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be out soon.” I smile at the younger girl. I set Avery down on her own bed before I pulled her shoes off.

“Are you staying?” Avery whines as she looks up at me.

“Not tonight, maybe tomorrow,” I say softly. Avery pouts as I cover her up. She falls asleep moments later.

“I have to tell you something,” the girl across the room says. I turn to look at her in confusion.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name,” I say.

“I’m Clarissa, but you can call me Rissa,” she smiles.

“What did you have to tell me?” I ask.

“Avery was dared to do this, the whole thing with you. I heard her and her friends talking about it. She was dared to make a champion fall for her, and she chose you,” Rissa says softly. My heart drops as my mouth dries.

“What?” I say softly. “You swear to Merlin you’re not lying.”

“I swear, I have no reason to lie about something like this,” she says softly.

“What do I do?” I say as I shake my head.

“Don’t get with her, don’t do anything. You’ll get hurt,” Rissa says.

“Thank you so much,” I say as I walk through the door. I walk quietly back to my own dorm before I push through it. I kick my shoes off as I close my door. I walk to my dresser as I pull pajamas out. I change quickly before I get into bed. I fall asleep staring at the brick ceiling.

Once I wake up my mind instantly flies to what Rissa said last night. I stand up and slip on a pair of socks and trainers before going down to the Great Hall. I saw Hermione sitting next to Ron with Harry and the twins across from him. I quietly slip into the spot between the twins as I grab a chocolate croissant. I eat it silently as I stare at the table. I feel a shoulder nudge mine, I look up to see George looking down at me.

“You alright, Y/N/N?” He asks softly.

“Avery, it was a dare,” I laughed quietly.

“What?” George says angrily.

“Her friends bet her that she couldn’t make a champion fall for her. And I was the oh so lucky champion she chose,” I reply.

“I swear to bloody Merlin, if she wasn’t a girl,” he says angrily.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asks as he looks between George and I.

“Fucking Avery, that right cunt,” George seethes.

“What’d she do?” Ron asks. I look at George as he gives me a look asking if he can say. I nod softly before he bursts.

“She was using Y/N! It was all for a bet, her friends said she wouldn’t be able to pull a champion,” George says. Hermione’s face hardens as she looks at me. She gets up quickly as her face scans the Great Hall before she disappears.

“Where’s she going?” Fred asks.

“No idea, should we follow her?” Harry asks.

“No, probably not,” Ron replies. I get a bit more food before I drink my pumpkin juice.

I make my way to the Transfigurations classroom. I push the door open to see Hermione already sitting at our table. Her face is hidden by her curly hair as she reads the book in front of her. I slide into my seat before I look to the front of the room.

“You alright?” Hermione asks, not looking up from her book.

“M’fine, H,” I say softly.

“You’re not, you’re allowed to be upset,” she says as she places a hand on my arm.

“You’re not gonna tell me you told me so?” I ask.

“Well, of course not. You’re upset and I’m not going to exploit that because I was right,” Hermione says. I nod softly as I look at her. McGonagall makes her way to the front of the room.

“Today’s class will be held in the Great Hall so we can have a discussion,” she says. “Everyone leave your things and follow me.” As we get there, every Gryffindor is in the room. I smile as I see the twins standing behind a bunch of chairs while leaning against the wall. “Ladies on the right, gentlemen on the left.” I scrunch my nose up as I move to sit on the other side.

“What’s this about?” Angelina asks as I sit in front of her.

“No clue,” I whisper back.

“Today we will be discussing the Yule Ball. It’s directly connected to the tournaments. The house of Godric Gryffindor has been the most honorable and humble house around this time. I will not have you besmirching that name by acting like a babbling bumbling band of baboons!” McGonagall says.

“Right, she’s obviously never been to a Gryffindor party,” I whisper with a smirk to Lina. She lets out a soft snicker as McGonagall shouts at Ron.

“Mr. Weasley, please join me,” she says. Ron looks at her in shock as he stands up and walks over to her. “Please put your hand on my waist.”

“Where!” Ron screeches as he looks at her.

“On my waist, Mr. Weasley,” she repeats. Ron slowly puts his hand on her waist as McGonagall takes his other hand. She begins walking through a slow waltz as I cover my mouth to try to stop the laughs from bubbling out of me.

“Oh I wish I had a camera,” I say in awe. I look to see Fred and George mockingly swaying back and forth. Hermione elbows me softly as she glares at me.

“Now, I hope you gentlemen will each take a lady’s hand and ask her to dance,” Professor calls. The boys sit silently as I roll my eyes. I see Neville stand up as he offers his hand to Ginny. She smiles as she takes it and they begin to dance around. I smile softly as Ron walks over to me.

“Your hand m’lady?” he says obnoxiously. I throw my head back in laughter as I grab his hand.

“Of course m’lord,” I reply in the same voice. He pulls me up as his hand sets on my waist. We sway softly as he spins me. I let out a loud laugh as he dips me. “Wow, Weasley! You got some moves.”

“Oi! I’m not just a pretty face,” Ron winks. I shake my head with a smile as I lift his hand above his head.

“Now, spin!” I laugh.

“Absolutely not,” Ron says as he shakes his head.

“Come on, Ronald!” I say as I wiggle his arm around. He rolls his eyes as he duck under our arms and spins. I grin brightly as I watch him.

“Now you,” he smiles. He twirls me around as I let out a laugh. Ron tugs me back to his chest as we dance slowly. “So, when are you gonna tell ‘Mione you fancy her?” My eyes widen as I slap his chest.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my eyes pulling away from his gaze.

“It’s painfully obvious, Y/N/N,” he teases. I groan as my head falls to lean on his shoulder.

“I can’t tell her, she fancies Krum,” I replied as my head lifted off his shoulder to look at him.

“You never know unless you try,” Ron sings. I roll my eyes as I look around the room. I see Hermione laughs loudly as Harry spins her around. My stomach fills with butterflies as I smile softly. “You’re absolutely smitten!” Ron laughs.

“Oh, bugger off you git,” I mutter as we continue to dance. He grins at me as he spins me again. I let out a laugh as he dips me again.

Ron plops beside me as he lets out a loud groan. I shift my seat on the couch of our common room as I smile. “You alright Ronniekins?” I ask as I nudge his shoulder.

“How the bloody hell am I meant to ask a girl to the ball! They’re always together in their scary groups, staring at us,” Ron says as he puts his head in his hands.

“It’s not that hard, just ask someone,” I shrug.

“Have you been asked yet?” Ron asks. I shake my head as my eyes scan the pages of my book.

“I’m probably not going,” I say.

“You’ve got to go!” Ron exclaims.

“Why?” I ask.

“If ‘Mione finds out you're saying that she’ll skin you alive!” Ron says as he sways us.

“Is she going with someone?” I ask softly.

“I have no idea. You know she wouldn’t tell Harry and I, we’d take the mickey out of her if she did,” Ron laughs softly. I nod in agreement as I put my feet on his lap.

I walk into the Great Hall for my study hour as I see Hermione sitting beside Ron and Harry. I sit across from them, next to the twins as Snape sets my workbook in front of me. I give him a tight lipped smile as I open it and begin to work.

“Have you got a date yet, H?” Ron says as he turns to the brown-haired boy.

“Not yet, it’s terrifying!” Harry exclaims in a hushed tone.

“I know! How am I supposed to ask a girl when they’re always together!” The redhead whines. I let out a soft laugh as I look at the two. Fred tears a piece of parchment off as he scribbles on it and tosses it at his brother. Ron reads it before glaring at the older twin. “Right, who are you going with then!” Ron huffs in a whisper. Fred smirks at his brother before crumpling up another piece and tossing it at Angelina.

“Oi! Lina!” Fred whisper-yells. Angelina’s head snaps towards him as she glares. “Will you,” he says as he points at her. “Go to the ball,” he continues as he mimics dancing. “With me,” he smirks as he points towards himself.

“Yeah, alright then,” Angelia says with a small smile as she turns back to her work. Fred turns and shoots an overdramatic wink at Ron. I laugh softly as I shake my head.

“Right, Hermione, Y/N, you both are girls! Come to the ball with us,” Ron laughs as he mimics Fred. Snape walks up behind him as he smacks him in the back of the head with a workbook. Ron winces as he rubs his head. I laugh with Harry as Hermione turns to look at him.

“I have a date already,” Hermione says.

“You what?” I say as my head snaps towards her.

“Someone asked me, and I said yes,” she replies.

“Who!?” I ask.

“None of your business,” Hermione says coldly.

“I thought we were best mates!” I say in defense.

“If I wanted you to know, don’t you think I would’ve told you by now!” Hermione says in a tone that mocked mine a few weeks ago. My face falls as I look at her.

“Cool,” I say dryly as I turn back to my work.

“Y/N, are you going to the ball?” Harry asks.

“Probably not,” I say as I don’t look up from my work.

“What?” Ron says slightly loudly.

“Not going,” I say as I look up at the trio with a tight-lipped smile.

“Yes you are,” Hermione says suddenly.

“No, no I am not,” I say as I shake my head.

“You have to!” Hermione argues.

“No I don’t,” I laugh.

“You are going. No arguing,” Hermione says.

“We can go together,” Ron says as he waggled his eyebrows at me.

“Fine,” I seethe. “Only because I don’t want Ronniekins looking pathetic at the ball.” Harry looks at me in shock as he gasps.

“What about me!” He shrieks. Snape glares at us as I apologize.

“You’ll find a date. You’re the chosen one. Every girl wants to get in your pants. Ron here is a little more awkward,” I reply. Harry grumbles quietly as I finish my work. I get up as I hand Snape my book and leave the room.

“You have a package,” Ginny tells me as she sets a long box on my bed. My face lights up as I move closer to the box.

“It’s my dress!” I exclaim. I tug the top off the box as I look inside. I pull out a long dark red dress. The skirt is bouncy and made of a soft tulle. It flows to the floor as I hold it up. The top is made out of a silky material, that was covered in shiny red beads and sequins. The straps are thin and cross in the back. The neckline is a wide V shape.

“Oh my god Bex! That’s gorgeous,” Ginny grins. “You’re gonna look so pretty!”

“I hope so,” I say softly. There’s a pair of open-toed silver chunky heels, they’re covered in sparkles. It has a strap that goes across the top of your foot and one that fastens around your ankle. I dig around the box to find three smaller black boxes. The first box has a silver necklace with a silver rose as the pendent. The second has a pair of gorgeous earrings. They’re crystal dangle earrings. They look like frosty ice more than anything else. The final box is smaller, shaped more like a cube than anything. I open it to see the ring. It’s the same ring my mother wore everyday. It has been in our family for ages. I take it out and hold it between my fingers. It’s gold and has a tiara like design. There’s a small oval shaped red stone in the middle with two tiny pearls on the top and bottom.

“That’s beautiful,” Ginny says softly.

“It was my mum’s. It’s been passed down to the eldest girls in my family for generations. And it’s finally my turn,” I say as a smile breaks across my face. I made a mental note to write mum later. I hang my dress up so it doesn't wrinkle before putting the shoes and jewelry away safely.

#hermione granger x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger fanfic #hermione granger x fem!reader #hermione granger x you #harry potter fanfic

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thebestlangston · 24 days ago

Text

ENTER: The Man.

Hah, you're askin' me! Nah, man. I dunno what the fuss is all about this time. There's always somethin', you know? Part of being Aaron Langston, I guess. They're always hoppin' on my back for no damn reason. But it's good fun, keeps life from getting too borin'. Do you have anymore questions in your back pocket, sweetheart, or can I finally go back to enjoyin' my own party?

AFTER THREE YEARS IN FRANCE — how fancy! — Gotham's very own Aaron Langston come home at long last! What has he been up to since then? Well, here's a quick rundown!

Yeah, alright. Believe the big press if you will, but just know that they are full of —. They just type away on their fancy little keyboards about whatever the hell they want about whoever the hell they want, 'cause I sure as hell did not say whatever the hell they thought I said.

You wanna know the real story? Yeah, alright. I'll tell you the real deal:

My name is Aaron Langston (yes, like the Aaron Langston, hold the applause; I know I'm amazing). I am a twenty-three year old heir to a multi-billionaire company by day, and a super awesome vigilante by night.

I know what you're thinkin' right now. What's a pretty face like mine doin' in a business that could break my nose and mess up my entire face like that? Well, the answer's simple, sweetheart: I never wanted this job.

Believe it or not, I was goin' out on a walk! Just a fun little jaunt right through the streets of Gotham, hidin' in the shadows 'cause the paps are like blood hounds, I swear. And then, outta nowhere, I caught this guy doing uncouth things! On the streets of Gotham!

I was movin' before I was thinkin'. Beating the crap outta the guy was honestly just the right thing to do, 'cause the bad guy honestly had it comin' and sure it might be Gotham, but we can't just sit around and wait for the Big Bat to drop in and kick ass. We gotta take this — into our own hands sometimes.

Forgot about the mask and the hood, though (and fine, yes, maybe it happened more than once. So, what! The Bats can't be everywhere in Gotham, you know!). Now everyone's callin' me the Hound just 'cause I'm always wearing the same damn jacket with the three headed dog on it. It's my favorite jacket!

Sigh. But damn. Three years changes a man plenty. And yeah, alright, there is no way in hell I would've chosen this on my own. But what's a guy gonna do? Let people get hurt? Nah, man. This is my city, too.

── ✧ OOC UNDER THE CUT!

Hello! I am the mun! You may call me Flynn (they/them) and I am an adult behind the screen. Nice to meet you! This is the first time I'm taking a deep dive into DC rp (and rp in this style in general) so!!! I am navigating through this slowly.

Extra information on Aaron that he himself doesn't know (insider information, aha!): He is half-boy, half-god. This is less taking inspiration from Diana & the Amazonians, and more from Percy Jackson, to be honest (you don't need to know anything about it, though!). One day I'll make an actual Docs file for his information, but all you really need to know is that his parents are his adoptive parents and that his mother's sister is actually Aaron's blood mother, and he is sired by the god Ares. Therefore, Aaron is always going to have that streak of violence, righteousness, and war inside of him, no matter how badly he tries to fight it. It's ingrained in him. He can't fight it.

Obligatory disclaimer on Aaron's behalf: He's kind of a piece of shit. No, there isn't any real trauma that made him like this. He's just ... a freak, man. I don't know what to tell you guys. His story ties in a lot with REPRESSION, including that of his sexuality. Yes, he is into men. No, he is not okay with this. Neither of his parents are either, despite it being a 'lavender marriage' but they're both using the marriage to suppress their own queerness. So, wahoo! Expect that!

I don't mind writing for anything, be it one-liners & prompts, or heavy-narration & in-depth dialogues! My DMs and ask box are always open for discussions! NSFW stuff is something I'd prefer we discussed first, but suggestive stuff (Aaron is a bit of a whore & he's open about his sex-life even if he's repressing his sexuality ... sigh) are perfectly fine <3

#dc rp #oc rp #dc oc rp #oc rp blog

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lovelylogans · 1 year ago

Text

the parent trap

CHAPTER THREE: en garde

The boys come to blows. (With practice épées, but in their minds, it’s equally as serious.)

⁂

Oh, yes. Remus is settling into camp just fine.

Specs and Tie-dye—he learns their real names are Teagan and Nick—were, to his absolute delight, absolutely terrible at cards and unflaggingly good sports about it.

Even when Remus managed to win Nick’s prized nail polish, contraband stolen from his sister, he’d simply shrugged and congratulated Remus on a good game. Remus had celebrated the occasion by painting his nails a sickening shade of green chrome.

(He, of course, generously let Nick paint his own nails, though he’d chosen a ridiculously bright highlighter yellow. It was kinda cool, really; all the bees in camp seemed fascinated by the color, which had Nick regretting his decision by lunch the next day.)

The first week passes in a blur of finally managing to memorize everyone’s names, though he almost never used them, getting his bed as close to a nest of dirty clothes and his blankets as possible, and finding the kitchen window with the loosest latch so he could sneak into it after hours and steal contraband.

The best part: his counselor, when Remus had swaggered back into the cabin with armfuls of popsicles, had simply shrugged and gone back to writing a letter to his girlfriend back home.

Summer camp, he writes in a letter home to Patton and Virgil, is going AWESOME.

⁂

Now here’s a sport that Roman can really thrive at.

None of this nonsensical American football—no. Fencing is where Roman will make his reputation. He’s rather pleased with himself, actually—fencing was cool. Maybe his success at it would, by proxy, make him cool.

“Halt!” Marvin cries as Roman’s landing a perfect hit at the dead-center of the chest, and Monroe falls on his back to the cheers of the rest of Maple.

Monroe takes off his helmet, grinning up at Roman. “Touché!”

Roman reaches down to help him up as Marvin Jr. cries out, “All right, excellent, kids! The winner and still undefeated champ from London, England—Mr. Roman James!”

Marvin Jr. takes his hand and raises it in the air, as if Roman’s some kind of prizefighter, and the rest of Maple cheers and claps for him, and Roman feels like he’s on top of the world. He turns to rush up to his cabin-mates, whose hands rain down on his back in approval.

He’s distantly aware of Marvin saying, “Do we have any challengers? Oh, come on, fellas…”

Roman takes a moment to drink from his water bottle.

“Awesome hit, Roman!” Asher says, patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Monroe says, “how’d you get so good at this stuff anyway?”

Roman shrugs, pretending at humility. “I did theater in school—the stage fighting’s stuck with me, I suppose.”

“Well, it’s wicked,” Asher says, then, “that’s right, isn’t it, wicked?”

“Yeah,” Roman says, grinning, “wicked” and they high-five.

“All right, James, you’ve got a challenger!” Marvin calls.

“Here I go,” Roman says, slightly muffled by his helmet, and he turns to face his competitor; suited in green-and-white, helmet and foil already in place, ready to begin the match.

“Go, Roman!” Maple cries as they meet in the center of the makeshift ring, foils clacking briefly together.

“Fencers ready?” Marvin asks. Roman nods.

“Prête—allez!”

The opposite fencer attempts some fancy maneuver with kicking up the foil from the ground, managing to catch it and swirl it around in some embellishment.

“En garde—Fence!”

And they’re off.

The challenger’s thwacking at his foil repeatedly, as if that’ll somehow get Roman to trip up his guard; he parries all of them easily, keeping his footing as the challenger charges forward.

The challenger steps out of the ring onto woodchips. Roman lunges, attempting to land a hit just to end the match, but the challenger bounces off of a tree, and Marvin doesn’t call foul even though he’s clearly out of bounds.

Then the challenger slashes his foil through the air, and Roman dodges—again, and to the left—Roman spares a look at Marvin, who still isn’t calling foul, and just barely manages to block the stranger’s foil from hitting a passerby.

“You could’ve hurt someone!” Roman says, furious.

“He wasn’t looking where he was going!” The challenger scoffs, and the match begins to grow fierce.

This challenger clearly has no semblance of strategy—their foil bounce off each other, each parrying each other’s every attempt at getting close enough to land a hit—and Roman’s back hits a wooden post.

He spins out of the way just in time for the foil to land in the post.

Right where his face would have been.

“You seriously could hurt someone!” Roman yells, and clearly Marvin isn’t about to bother stepping in—he plants his hands and cartwheels over a haybale, just to gain some ground away from this—this hacking, whirling dervish of a maniac.

He has the challenger with his back to the haybales now—he attempts to conduct the game legally, though it makes the challenger yawn, putting his face in front of the mask—and Roman snarls, infuriated by this.

The challenger takes immediate advantage, and attempts to disarm him—the foil flies in the air, hovering for an impossibly long moment—Roman runs up to the cabin, leaning over the railing and , gaining the upper ground, hand in the air, and he manages to seize the handle just in time.

“Nice catch!” The competitor says, before he promptly begins chasing Roman up the cabin stairs.

“You’re mad!” Roman yelps, twirling out of the way and doubling back, “completely barking mad!”

“Thanks!” The challenger says brightly, as though Roman’s paid him the highest compliment, and then sidesteps the foil, plants his hands on Roman’s chest, and gives him a great, hard shove.

Roman shrieks as he falls over the railing—he braces himself for a hard fall—but—

SPLASH!

He surfaces—not that the water’s very deep—and coughs, shocked, the wind having been knocked out of him. He’s landed in some kind of trough—really, why on earth was there a trough there? He’s grateful—he could have broken a bone from a fall of that height!

He could have gotten really badly hurt! Not just the fall—during at least five different points in that match!

But Marvin does not seem to care in the slightest.

“O-kay, that was quite a show!”

Marvin’s approached the green-suited competitor, hoisting his hand in the air.

“I think we’ve got ourselves a new camp champ—from California, Mr. Remus Parker!”

“He cheated!” Roman protests, furious, and finally manages to extract himself from that ridiculous trough—really, who just put water in some random receptacle like that?!—and shakes off the excess water as best he can, though the suit’s quite waterlogged.

But Roman’s protests—and the protests of his cabin—go unheard over the raucous screaming of the Pines; Marvin Jr. is too busy looking at his clipboard to register this complaint.

Roman storms over to put away his foil, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his arm.

“This is absolutely ludicrous,” Roman says, to the loud agreement of Asher.

“He shoved you in the trough!” Asher declares, pointing over his shoulder, where the cheater must be standing. “That’s gotta be against the rules!”

But all fell on stubborn ears; at last, Marvin Jr. looks up from his clipboard, only to say in a mild tone of voice. “All right, boys, now shake hands.”

With a dirty rotten stinking no good cheater?! Marvin Jr.’s out of his bloody mind!

“Come on, boys, be good sports. Shake hands.”

Roman, with a great roll of his eyes, turns around just in time to hear a loud, nasal sigh.

And then he jerks back in shock.

It’s like they’ve stuck a mirror in the ground.

The mirror image pulls back too, eyes bugging out, but it’s like it’s Roman. Same freckles splashed across his cheeks from spending time in the sun; same height, same brown eyes, same brown hair, even the same stubborn cowlick!

But then, it’s like a funhouse mirror, on second glance; the cheater (the cheater! yes! this boy cheated!) has a ghastly streak of white hair throughout his too-long hair; unkempt where Roman was neat, exaggerated in expression where Roman was calm, and, oh yes, a cheating cheater where Roman was honest!

Roman swallows, but he sticks out a hand.

After a moment’s hesitation, the cheater sticks his out. Yes, that’s just the same, too, except, Roman notices with distaste, that the cheater has bitten his nails down to the quick, his chrome nail polish chipped. And, ugh, how is there so much mud caked under them?! Roman’s are neatly trimmed and clear.

But Roman clasps it to shake all the same, real and not a mirror at all; it’s damp, like his, but warm, shockingly so.

The other boy—Remus Parker, hadn’t Marvin said?—yanks his hand back as quickly as he can manage, mussing his already messy hair.

“Why’s everyone staring at us?” He says, loud.

“...Don’t you see it?” Roman says.

“See what?!” Remus says with a scoff and a dismissive shake of his head.

“The resemblance between us!”

The other boy’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“Resemblance?” Remus repeats. “Between… you and me?”

Roman nods, still stricken; yes, there’s that smirk on the other boy’s face, the same on Roman’s practiced in the mirror before, the one that he tries to use to demonstrate nothing anyone ever says bothers him.

“Let me see,” Remus says, mockingly putting a thoughtful finger to his temple. “Turn sideways.”

Roman huffs out a breath, but pivots to display his left profile; Dad always says that statistically, someone’s left side is almost always going to be their good one.

“Noww the other way.”

Roman rolls his eyes and acquiesces. He feels like he’s in a police procedural to get his mugshot.

“We-ell,” the other boy drawls. “Your eyes seem a bit crossed—you don’t have to try that hard to look at me, I’m right here.”

Roman clenches his fists, tops of his ears burning, as Remus Parker’s cabin mates laugh at him.

“That nose—well, don’t worry, I bet you’ll grow into it.”

Roman resists the urge to cover his nose with his hand.

“And your teeth are like someone shoved a crumbling Jenga tower in there, but hey. That’s Brits for ya, innit?”

And an awful attempt at a British accent too! Roman’s positively fuming.

“But do you want to know the real difference between you and me?” Remus says.

“What?” Roman says snidely. “That I know how to fence and you don’t? Or is it that I have class and you don’t? Take your pick.”

“Why I oughta—”

Roman would be delighted by this utterly American line if it hadn’t been accompanied by this brute clenching his jaw and taking a closer step. As it is, Roman sets his jaw and takes his own step forward.

“Boys, stop,” Marvin Jr. is saying in the background, and Roman is about to take another step forward, and damn that he doesn’t know how to enter fisticuffs when a hand comes down on each of their shoulders.

“Now Remus—”

Roman glowers at Marvin. He doesn’t have that ghastly streak of white through his hair!

“Roman—I mean—”

Remus takes a moment to pull a grotesque face at Marvin before returning his attention to Roman.

“Now Roman—Remus—I-I mean—oh, whoever you are, it’s time to break up this little love fest—”

The boy snarls at him—snarls! Like some kind of animal!—and Roman has to resist the urge to snap right back at him, even as they’re jostled away from each other.

“Whoa,” Asher says, to the general mutterings of agreement of cabins Pine and Maple.

⁂

The discussion of the fencing match and the shock of the identical combatants carried over, Roman found, through lunch, dinner, and even during pre-bedtime downtime when Roman was trying to write a letter to home with absolutely zero mention of it.

He’s absolutely sick to death of this conversation. And yet.

“I mean, don’t you think it’s weird?” Asher pushes.

Roman presses down a little too hard on his pen, where he’s trying to describe the activities he’s gotten introduced to since arriving at camp. I’ve found I’m rather a dab hand at kayaking…

“For the thousandth time, yes, of course I think it’s odd,” Roman says wearily. …spent the whole morning that day in the lake, which was very beautiful (sketch enclosed)...

“You’ve seriously never met this guy before.” another cabin mate pipes up.

Roman rolls his eyes, carefully sorting through his sketches to select the most picturesque for his father. “I’ve seriously never met him before.”

“Nothing? No mention of a weird American cousin or anything like that?”

“I don’t have any cousins our age,” Roman says, settling on a landscape that shows the sun dappling beautifully through the leaves and landing on the glittering lake. “The closest age cousin I’ve got is my dad’s age, and he’s not even technically my cousin, he’s my dad’s cousin.”

“Weird,” Asher says with a shake of his head.

“Weird,” Roman agrees, hoping he’ll be able to resume his letter in peace now that they’ve hashed it out for the billionth time.

…I’m getting along just fine with my cabin mates, and my counselor hardly seems to have a care about what shenanigans some of them get up to—breaking into the kitchen for sweets and the like.

It seems to be a bit of a tradition to do that kind of thing anyway; I guess the reasoning is if we do small bits of rebellion, we won’t turn our attention to absolute chaos. Not that I’ve been joining in outside of enjoying the occasional contraband snack, I assure you (so long as you don’t count swiftly establishing myself as the predominant poker talent in the cabin)…

“...dunno, what are your theories, then?” he can hear Asher say to another kid in the cabin, as if Roman isn’t even there. Roman grits his teeth and presses his pen back to paper, perhaps a bit firmer than he did before.

…be sure to tell Grandfather that his new deck of cards has come in handy and I thank him again for the gift. I’ve taught them a few new card games, too, and there’s rumors of them trying to teach me one—have you ever played something called Egyptian Rat Screw? I guess it’s fairly similar to Beggar-my-neighbor. Americans, as usual, have their own take on things. That might be the plan for the evening, if I don’t have any takers for poker this evening.

But that’s proven rather popular. People seem to think they can defeat me.

Someone storms in from outside, clearly in the midst of a rant.

“—my whole allowance, it’s absolutely insane—”

“Who took your allowance?” Asher asks.

“That Remus Parker kid,” he says. “He’s bleeding everyone dry. He’s like a freak poker prodigy.”

A smile creeps across Roman’s face. “Is he now.”

There is a great turning of heads to Roman’s bunk.

More specifically, there is a great turning of heads to Roman’s cubby of pride, where he has placed every trophy he’s wrought from every poker game he’s played in camp.

Every undefeated poker game.

“Say, Roman,” he says slowly. “I don’t suppose… you’d want to win it back for me, would you? I’d get you whatever you wanted from the kitchen. All summer long, even.”

Everyone looks very tempted by that offer. Let alone Roman, who is always a little nervous about the potential of being caught out in the kitchens anyway.

“C’mon, Roman, please,” Asher urges. “I know you want to. Don’t you want to get back at that dirty stinking cheater?!”

That does it.

“Yes, of course, let me just finish this so we can drop it in the post box on our way there—”

He turns and quickly jots off the ending line of his letter, then signing it Love from, Roman James in a great swooping signature that his dad had helped him perfect.

Off to win what will surely be a rollicking poker match!

⁂

Remus tsks in delight as he extends his arms, having to use more than his hands to be able to pull in the sheer quantity of quarters, dollars, chewing gum, candies, nail polish, and—the most sacrosanct—a key to get into the kitchens someone filched from some stupid counselor! No more jimmying open windows for Remus! That will definitely make fulfilling his nighttime cravings easier.

“Sorry, gents,” he says smugly and not at all apologetically as the majority of the Catalpa Cabin’s riches tumble into his lap.

There’s a great chorus of rumblings as Remus begins to sort the dollars from the quarters, and the food from the money, ostentatiously fanning himself with them. “Any more takers?”

The door to Pine Cabin opens, and Remus cranes his neck over the crowd of spectators that have crowded into the space; he snorts at the sight.

“No refunds, Monroe,” he says. “Should’ve known better than to bet all your money on a two-pair.”

“He’s not going for a refund,” a very, very familiar voice rings out over the flock of Maple Cabin.

They all part to reveal Remus’ clone from an alternate, much dweebier universe.

“But I’ll give it the old college try.”

Remus snorts, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

“Sure, James,” he says. “Take a seat.”

Roman James tucks himself tidily atop the bed, hands folded.

“Hold’em? Omaha? Seven Card Stud?” Remus fires off.

“We’ll do a classic Texas,” Roman says.

Remus snorts. Figures. He probably doesn’t even know to ask if they’re playing Short Deck or not.

“Fine,” Remus says, beginning to shuffle, but Roman makes a sharp noise of protest.

“After your stunt at the fencing grounds? You’ll have to forgive me to think you’re not stacking the deck in your favor.”

Remus shrugs, unoffended. He probably would if he knew for a fact he’d get away with it.

“Someone else will have to deal us in, Parker.” Roman says pointedly.

“Fine,” Remus says, settling his sunglasses back on his nose. With the glass root beer bottle beside him, Remus probably cuts what Virgil would call an intimidating figure.

He hands the cards to the first set of hands that take them. It turns out to be someone from Catalpa; probably good. He doesn’t want James to cry cheater again if someone from Pine had dealt them both in.

Remus can play this in his sleep. Classic Texas Poker, it’s a shoo-in. Clearly he’d bruised more than just James’s body when he’d shoved him in that trough; he’d bruised his ego.

Shame that James was about to stake his honor on the game that Remus had been playing practically since he was born.

The crowd around them is heavy; Pine, stacked up behind Remus, and Maple, stacked up behind Roman, seemingly as a matter of Cabin Pride or principle.

The real interesting read of the sway were any Catalpas—even a few of the older boys from Rowan and Sequoia filter in after a while—switching their vantage points from one to another, whispering to each other and gasping appropriately when things get added to the pot.

Remus gets the card. The. Card. Just the one he needed.

Remus smirks at the sight.

“Tell you what, James,” he says. “Let’s make things really interesting.”

Roman arches an eyebrow.

“Loser jumps into the lake after the game.”

“Excellent,” Roman says, examining his cards.

“Butt. Naked.”

There’s a chorus of sniggers erupting from the flock of pre-teenage boys.

A slow smile curls over Roman’s face. “Even more excellent.”

Remus grins back. Oh, when that stuck-up English prude has to go down to his skivvies, or whatever screwed-up word they use for underwear…

“Start stripping, James,” Remus says smugly. He smacks his cards against the table, face-up.

“Straight! In. Diamonds.”

Remus smiles.

“Oh, you’re good, Parker,” Roman begins to hum, a tune that Remus thinks he’s probably heard somewhere…

“But not good enough.”

Remus’ smile drops.

“In honor of my homeland,” Roman says. “God save the Queen, Parker.”

Roman flips around his cards to display a royal flush, covering his smiling, humming mouth.

Of spades.

No way, Remus thinks, furious—but he’s the one who passed off the cards to Catalpa, there’s no way he could have—

Remus forcibly shoves down any anger. He can use that later.

To come onto his turf, to challenge him at his thing, all because of a measly little shove?

This meant war.

“Well,” Remus says, removing his sunglasses, and puts his biggest grin on his face.

“Anyone going to give me some music for this? No?”

He dramatically whips off his green, Walden-branded bomber jacket, tossing it in the general direction of his bunk.

“Come on then, boys, time for me to put on a show! Probably a better one than his lily-white pasty ass would’ve given you!”

And so Remus begins to sprint to the dock, tugging off his shirt in the process, to the great chorus of preteen footsteps behind him, laughing and whooping the whole way down.

⁂

It’s difficult to see their way down to the lake, but fortunately some of the boys from Sequoia had gathered candles so, at least, Roman wasn’t tripping over his own feet on his way down there.

Not that he would have been mocked for tripping; it seems that winning back Monroe’s allowance and handing over a key for the kitchen to their preeminent food heister, Antony, seems to have solidified a place of popularity within Maple, even spreading out to these witnesses from Sequoia and Catalpa.

The expression on Remus’ face when Roman had won—! It surely made up for the disrespect of being shoved into a trough, of all things. And for this indignity to be from Remus’ own suggestion, only to come back to bite him!

Yes, Roman thought, as he gathered his packed-up-sock full of candy, dollars, quarters, and even his own pounds; victory certainly is sweet.

Meanwhile, Remus had finished his run down to the lake, and was standing amidst the lot of them, staring out at the wide expanse of the dock in nothing but his pants.

“Well,” Remus says. “The pièce de résistance.”

Remus seems entirely unaffected as he officially strips down, and begins to run down the dock.

“CANNONBALL!” He bellows, with little care that any dozing counselors might hear him, and tucks himself up into a perfect ball, letting out a truly impressive splash.

“C’mon,” Asher says, “Grab his clothes!”

“Wait—” Roman says, “what—?”

Too late—Monroe is already lunging for Remus’ messily deposited shirt, and Sequoia and Catalpa are scattering for their own cabins, and Asher picks up his pants, and all that’s left are the shoes and everyone’s running—

“Guys!” Roman says, running after them. “Wait!”

But there’s nothing he can do to stop them—he can only keep pace with the rest of them as they bolt back to Maple, clinging tight to his contraband.

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

#my fic #my fanfic #tpt fic

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veradragonjedi · 2 years ago

Note

📷✨💛 and 🌿!!!

(Yes— I’m sending you the same Q as you made me wonder about it too 😅🫶🏼)

EEEEP!!! Hello Spooky!!! Lemme see

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

I have nine interchanging ones, all dinluke themed 🫣 cos I'm fixated, but my main homescreen is-

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

Oh boy

Vee — chosen name atm, Aloe (like Aloe-Vera teehee), Goose, V, V-V, Marvin, VLC (I wore a traffic cone and it stuck), Swan, the spellings of V - Ve - Vee are interchangeable, probably more but I don't remember

💛 Do you have any piercings?

Just my earlobes, but I'm hoping to get those doubled, I'd like angelbites (upper lip) and an industrial piercing (where the curve of your ear is pierced twice and a bar is put between them) and I'd like to get creative with it, but I'm gonna wait till I know what I'm doing aha

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

Hmm. Imma describe a few I enjoy, I don't have a fave particularly (socks can be whatever)

Comfy — my red heartbeat patterned trousers and any white t-shirt, plus the worn trainers

Beachy — I have these soft, light black overalls and probably any of my many many black t-shirts (probably my star wars one)

???? Mark Hamill esque??? — I have a gorgeous pair of flared trousers that I adore and I gotta buy more. I wear that with this purple-ish fancy button up cardigan and my heeled boots woughhh it makes me feel nice.

#vee answers #thank youuuu!!!!

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mainstoryarchive · 5 months ago

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Troublemakers - 45: Caution

Translator: Peace

Proofreader: Iridesenescence

Shu: Mmhmm.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Apartment in France

Shu: Mmhmm.

Yes, I understand. However, it's important to remember where you began, and at times you may find exactly what you seek where your roots lie.

The motifs you find may be the same, but you mustn't forget that the experiences we accumulate throughout life affect how we as creators make use of them.

By comparing where you began and where you are now, you'll be able to see the sort of path you've thus taken and the distance you've walked to get there.

By reflecting, you’ll begin to notice the items you picked up, yet forgot all about.

Fufu. From time to time, I too dig through the designs I poured my soul into sketching as a young boy so that I may bring them to life with my current ability.

Should you lose your way, it can be as grand a medicine as a simple change of pace.

That said, dear foolish, inexperienced Kagehira – reflection alone will get you nowhere. It is more than enough that you move ever forward, one step at a time, from where you were before. Though you may stumble, you will continue onwards regardless.

And so shall I.

Mm. Things haven't changed very much on my end. Paris truly is the Capital of The Arts though; you shall find only the elite here, and each day I throw myself into the heat of competition with them. While there are many unpleasant things, my time here is fulfilling and enjoyable.

This is the path I have chosen, and I shall walk it until I am satisfied. However, I do apologize for leaving you behind and causing you such loneliness–

Shu: Fufu, you needn't put on a brave front for me. There are none so shameless as to eavesdrop on our conversation here. … You know, I'm lonely as well.

I want to see you. But for now… Let us nurture our own blossoms in these distant lands.

When we unite them, Valkyrie shall be the most exquisite bouquet of flowers in all the world; I eagerly await the arrival of that day.

Hmph. You fool, I wouldn't go so far as to claim that my day cannot begin without first hearing your voice.

In any case, I'm rather curious about something I happened to overhear–

The agency we've come under contract with–CosPro–has given rise to a new unit recently, correct?

Yes, the ones called Crazy:B… But I’m sure Tenshouin would fancy it, what with how rotten in character and soul it is.

Nonetheless, I have heard some rather… disquieting things about them. Even here in the Capital of the Arts, idols have begun to catch the eyes and ears of others…

And the world is full of riffraff looking to kick up a fuss – they will chatter away regardless of whether there is truth in their words.

As we belong to the same Agency, it may be particularly difficult to keep your distance. However–

Distance yourself as much as possible from those Crazy:B fellows.

In particular, there is one with a rather odd stage name among their numbers… I cannot call it to mind right now, but do take extra care around him.

Oh, curse myself for thinking of it only as nothing more than idle gossip worth ignoring.

Nonetheless, this sudden worry was the reason for my call.

Our Valkyrie has already fallen from grace once before… There is no harm in taking precautions to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past, is there?

Hmph… The vast majority of us use our real names at ES, so it's rather unusual to use a stage name in its place; he'll be recognizable in an instant.

Just what was it… Mm. My apologies, my mind is still waking up.

I'll begin my preparations for the day and, should I recall something, I will contact you posthaste. In the meanwhile, be sure to do your best at your part-time work… and do give my regards to the children in Ra*bits.

Shu: … And if you happen to meet Nito anywhere, do have a heart-to-heart with him.

It isn't my place to tell you to do so, of course, but… I'm terribly saddened by the rift between the two of you.

You, myself, and Nito… We can never return to those happy days we spent together, just the three of us.

But I firmly believe that our present selves will be able to weave a relationship that is just as precious, or even moreso, as it was then.

Yes, yes… Well then, Kagehira, may the God of Art smile upon you as well.

Location: Saison Avenue

Mika: Talk t'ya later, Oshi-san…♪

(Ehehe. I still ain't too used t'usin' phones like this, so it feels kinda weird talkin' over one.

On toppa that, it might be the middle of the day here, but the sun’s just come up where he's at, ain't it?

But still… We're still standin' on the same big ol' globe, even bein' so far apart. It's real amazin'!

…Ah, that struck somethin' in me. Now, where I'd stick that memopad of mine–

Wait, I'll just stick it right on my phone! I reckon I can draw designs 'n stuff on here too… HoldHands sure is handy.

They introduce ya to all sortsa useful apps too, like this one for doin' designs…

Well, since Oshi-san's always fightin' someone on the net, the stuff I can do on m'phone's pretty limited.)

Tomoya: Um, Kagehira-senpai? Are you done with your phone call?

Some other people came to help us out that I want you to meet, and it’s about time we continued handing out the flyers…

Mika: Ah, yeah, gotcha. Sorry fer keepin' ya, Tomoya-kun, m'comin'.

Tomoya: You're good. You were on the phone with Itsuki-senpai just now, right? What did you two talk about?

Your face seemed a little pale, so was it something bad…?

Mika: Nnah… Nah, can't say it was. Can't say it was good either though.

Oshi-san was kinda unclear about it too, but apparently there's some fella with a weird stage name that I'm supposed t'be careful around. He was warnin' me about that guy.

Tomoya: A weird stage name?

Mika: Yeah…I dunno who it is, he’s supposed to be part of that new unit that popped up, Crazy:B.

Tomoya: Crazy:B, huh… I dunno who they are either.

The guys helping us out are from a new unit too, called ALKALOID, so I guess it's just the season for new units to be coming out of the woodworks.

… Ah, wait a second. If I remember right, there were some rumors floating around on the net about an idol with an odd stage name becoming a pretty hot topic.

Something about a doppelganger… I just thought it was some off the wall occult talk as usual though.

Mika: Doppelganger..?

[ ☆ ]

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#enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translations #tomoya mashiro #mika kagehira #shu itsuki

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soapyghost · 2 years ago

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Could we get captain price with a younger/inexperienced reader? Like someone who’s only had shitty hookups that didn’t care if they got off or not. He would completely ruin you for all other men omg. Like knowing that he’s the first person to really make you feel good would be so hot to him

TRUTH OR DARE? A PRICE X F! READER

A/N- I actually had a lot of fun writing this bad boy. I really hope I did this prompt justice~

W/c- 2.1k

WARNINGS- Smut, language, fingering, orgasm(s), p i v, choking, rough sex, inappropriate relations with your boss, and like a ton of SMUT. Ok cool enjoy.

Of all things, of course a children's game would be your downfall.

It all started after a you and the rest of 141 finally completed the 2 month long mission in bumfuck Russia. Safely back at the bunker, the squad pops open a bottle of whisky, bourbon to be specific, so even Ghost joined in. The game of cards long since abandoned in favor for a rousing game of Truth or Dare.

"Minx, you're turn" Soap slurs, "Truth or dare?" "Truth" you respond, after seeing the last dare done in the group you chose the hopefully safer answer. Gaz had last chosen dare and the image of his bare ass is now forever ingrained in your brain.

"Oh that is so not gonna save you missy," Price mutters, taking another sip of his drink. You raise your eyebrow at him as Soap asks "how many time has a guy made you cum in one night?". You spit out your drink at the bluntness of this question. You usually can hide your emotions pretty damn well, as it was part of your job. Your were 141's espionage agent. Their "honey pot" , which is how you got your code name, Minx. But this question, off of Johnny's drunk lips caught you off guard.

"I'm sorry, WHAT did you just ask me" you retort. "Oh you heard me." he counters. You take a sip of your glass and muse on how to get out of this one. But you know there is no way out, its either answer this question or down the rest of the bottle. Your stomach doing flips at the thought of drinking that much. After a long sigh you shrug your shoulders in defeat, "Not a single time Johnny boy" exhale. Every head in the room snaps up to stare at you in pure shock.

Johnny lets out a chuckle, "I can change that for you Sweetheart" he boldly asserts. "Johnny you couldn't figure out the difference between a pussy and an asshole" Price quips, which manages to get what sounds like a chuckle from Ghost and full on howls from the rest of the team. You feel your face redden and you look up at Price to try and come up with some snappy comeback but the words die on your lips when you see how he's looking at you. It's different now, hungry.

It's been a few months since that night in the bunker, but you can't get the image of Price's face out of your head. Are you falling for your Captain? You don't have the privilege's of loving anyone in your line of work. Not only can they be killed, but most men would lose their minds watching you flirt with mob bosses. How fragile their egos can be, but that's what makes it easy to get information. Which comes in handy on your next mission.

You slide on the little black dress laid out for you in the hotel room of some fancy 5 star hotel in the heart of Mexico. This mission was simple, get in, get close to the some high up cartel douche and get the information off the USB he's carrying. Slipping in the earpiece that is near invisible you breathe, "hear me alright lads?". "Copy" responds Price, "Loud and clear Minx. Remember the plan and stick to it." "Yes sir" you reply. The rest of the squad was outside, hiding in the shadows incase anything went awry and being subtle was no longer an option. You stalk out of the hotel room and down to the casino on the first floor, ready to outsmart yet another idiotic man. You catch the attention of every man in the room when you walk in, some even blatantly staring. You saunter over to the bar and order yourself a drink, ignoring the man at the bar trying desperately trying to get your attention. You swipe up your drink and leave him with his mouth open as you go to sit in the lounge and wait for your prey.

"Incoming now Minx" you hear Ghost breathe through your earpiece. Not a minute later incomes your target, a rather short man in an overpriced suit, Angel. All the pictures you'd been briefed with made it easy to spot him in the crowd. You take a slow sip of your drink and as he walks past you, you slowly look up at him with doe eyes. You can see in his eyes he's fallen for it hook line and sinker. After a few minutes a man in a black suit taps you on the shoulder, "Excuse me Miss. But Angel would like to speak with you" he whispers into your ear, accent thick. "Oh does he?" you respond, "well who am I to decline?"

You follow the man to the back of the casino and he leads you to an elevator. "He's on the top floor" he gestures to the door. "Gracias" you respond, voice dripping with honey. "You could work on that pronunciation." Gaz snorts in your earpiece. As the doors shut and the elevator moves you take a big gulp of air. "Shut it Gaz" you spit. The doors open to a dimly lit club, filled with music and smoke. "Hope you boys are ready for a show," you breathe as you step into the club.

He sticks out in his flashy white suit making it easy to pick him out of the crowd. You slide into his lap and purr "you wanted to see me handsome?" His hand slides onto your ass and you suppress a gag at the smell of his god awful cologne. "mmm, I've wanted to lay my hands on you from the moment you looked at me" he moans into your ear. "Well, I'm here" you murmur into his neck, placing kisses from his ear to the nape of his neck. You hand slides down his body, nearing his groin. You slip your hand into his pocket and slip the USB into your dress. "We should take this back to my room" he hums. "Mmmm, you'd think I'll just follow you anywhere?" You pull back, eyes wide, "I would feel much safer back in my room. But I need to freshen up first" you move your hand up his chest. After a few more minutes of some pretty heavy petting you get up, "you can find me in room 603" you whisper into his ear as you slink away. Of course that wasn't your room number, you weren't even going to be in this country by the time he figures that out.

The minute your outside the hotel you find a way to slip into the backstreets to rendezvous with the team. "I feel like I need to take a scalding shower for the rest of my life" you groan, still feeling his hands on your body. "Let's exfil and get you that shower, you earned it" Price smiles once he has eyes on you again. You wonder what a shower with Price might be like... you shake your head to get the image out of your mind.

After debrief and a long hot shower you get a text that surprised you

My office- 10 minutes. It's from Price. What could he possibly want with you at this hour? Your mind races with the possibilities as you leave your room, mostly of terribly dirty thoughts of being bent over Price's desk. As you approach his office door you pause, unsure of if you want to knock on the door or pretend you didn't see his text. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you rap on the door 3 times before you hear Johns gruff voice, "Come in."

You slide in the door and close it softly behind you, "You wanted to see me sir?" you choke out. The air in here thick with cigar smoke and anticipation. "Your performance on todays mission was good kid, but that's all it was, a performance." he mutters, voice low. "Sir?" you inquire. "You've never wanted to take a man to your room, none of them could please you" his words go straight to your core. "I've been thinking about this since that night in Russia" he continues, standing slowly from his desk chair, "and I know you have too" his eyes flick up to yours. They have that same hungry look from all those nights ago. You gulp, "have I now?" you tease, hoping to regain some control of the situation. "Oh you know you have love" he grumbles. In an instant his hands on your neck and your back is on the door. You let out a yelp of surprise and pleasure. His lips meet yours and the fire in your belly ignites. You had been thinking about this since that night, many times with your hands between your legs and the image of him in your mind.

"Why don't you show me then? What it should be like?" you moan as you nip at his neck. "I'm going to ruin you" he growls, flipping you around and face down onto his desk. The tone of his voice and the force he moves you around with is more than enough to get you soaked. He rips the booty shorts you wore down your legs, to reveal your bare ass, a perfect site to behold. You can hear him hum in delight at the sight of you bent over his desk. Your breathing is ragged as he takes one hand to hold your head down on the table and the other begins to rub your folds. His touch alone tightens the band in your stomach, he knows exactly what to do. "Wet already?" he croons, taking his thumb to your clit. He starts slow, moving in a circle causing your back to arch. The fire in your stomach turns into an inferno as he takes one finger and slides it into you. You gasp at the feeling of his rough callous fingers. He pushes up against you, his cock throbbing through his pants and slides in another finger. "Fuck John" you moan. "Shhh, let me show you how you deserve to be fucked" he grunts. His pace begins to quicken, fingers sliding effortlessly in and out of your hole. You've never felt this burning inferno in your stomach unless it was your own fingers. "Holy Shit John" you whine, your eyes loosing focus at how incredible this feels. "Cum for me" he commands, fingers moving at a speed you didn't know was possible. The gruff command is enough to send you spilling over the edge into an orgasm. You cry out his name as he doesn't relent. You have to bite down on your arm to ground yourself, the world going black from pleasure. "That's my girl" he praises, removing his fingers from you with a satisfying pop. Before you can catch your breath, you hear him unbuckle his pants. Shudders run through your body in anticipation for what comes next. If his fingers could do that, you can only imagine what his cock can do to you. "Ready?" he whispers. You're so fuck dumb all you can do is manage a nod, as he slides down your panties which are just a soaking mess. He teases you, moving his cock back and forth between your soaking folds before he finally slides his tip in. He's so much bigger than anyone you've ever been with, you cry out as he slides a couple inches deeper. "Breathe love" he groans through gritted teeth, "You have to relax for me". With one final thrust he's in, his size struggling against your walls. You whimper as he begins fucking you. His hand moves from your neck to your head, hands filling with your hair. Pulling your head back, he picks up his pace. Every thrust fans the flame of yet another orgasm. "Fuc- John I'm gonna- I'm gonna" you yelp. Words won't come out of your mouth, your brain to scrambled from the last orgasm. "Fuck" He grunts, and with one final punishing thrust you feel him empty inside you. His cum mixing with yours as you're thrown into yet another orgasm. His forehead on the back of your head, cigar smoke filling your senses.

"What are you doing to me Minx?" he breathes. You're still bent over the desk gasping for breath. You've never been fucked like this in your life, its nothing like those shit one night stands you've been used to. Your whole body feels like its on fire, but your head is where its the worst. Words are failing to come to your lips, all you can do is whine. He slides out of you and kisses your forehead.

"Truth or dare?" you finally gasp out. Shakily hopping up on the desk, regaining a miniscule amount of control of your body. A smirk crosses Johns mouth, "Dare" he answers.

"I dare you to make me cum again" you challenge, voice still shaky. His eyes light on fire again, "Gladly".

#price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #price x reader #modern warfare 2 smut #captain john price #captian price

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