#i’ve always gone straight to la demande
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Me: [sprinting out of the insane asylum in a straitjacket] But seriously, guys, one of the weirdest song order choices across productions has to be placing Un Jour anywhere else other than after La Haine and before La Demande en Mariage. I just can’t fathom it. In its original placement as the third song of the show Un Jour was a palate cleanser, a lyrical reprieve from the rock and pop drama of Vérone and La Haine. We were introduced to our protagonists fairly early and shown why they are different from the other characters. Un Jour isn’t just about RetJ wanting love, it’s also about their feelings of loneliness and alienation from this culture of hate and division. Moving it to before Les Rois du Monde (Hungarian) or making it as a response to Tu Dois Te Marier (Revival) or, um, after La Demande En Marriage (Italian) kind of defeats the purpose. In the Hungarian placement we get RetJ telling their friends their desire to love…right smack in the middle of Verona’s hate-obsessed society that doesn’t have much tolerance for genuine love connection. It’s just not something RetJ would confess to, even to their intimates (because they know how they will react). Also, what with Romeo being a pussy-magnet homeboy who is not supposed to want love (emotional) and Juliette being a “good” girl who is not supposed to want love (sexual), that’s even more reason to have Un Jour be a sung private duet-monologue. Un Jour is also about RetJ’s dissatisfaction with their (gendered) social roles, so it makes sense for Un Jour to be a long distance duet with no one else around (save a couple of dancers idk) but themselves. The Revival placement puts it after new Tu Dois Te Marier as a response (more or less dramatically logical) but before Les Rois du Monde (dramatically and musically incoherent—right after RetJ sing about wanting love the scene closes and Romeo goes bro-ing with his friends 😑). The Italian seemed to have realized this and put it after La Demande to have some space between it and Les Rois du Monde. Makes sense, if a little random to interrupt the Capulets Capulet-ing and switch to the lovers all of a sudden. So yeah, I don’t know why Un Jour gets moved around so much. It should be a no-brainer to have it as the third song in the musical. I don’t know, does this make sense?
Guards: Grab her!
#romeo et juliette#retj#roméo et juliette#retj meta#i just have many thoughts#also the alternative order serve to de-center retj as the musical’s protagonists#orders i should say#me i’ve never felt even the slightest urge to listen to les rois du monde after listening to un jour#i’ve always gone straight to la demande#hungarian retj had to really abridge un jour to make that transition#hungarian retj#revival retj#italian retj
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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [13]
chapter thirteen, act two: anobrain
masterlist
November 1st 2013
Tommie has always felt like out of all the places in America, New York would be scariest. It's big and that's where all the big American crime drama shows she watches are set, with things like the mafia or random serial killers.
But no, LA, is by far, the scariest place she has visited.
With people screaming as you pass by, strangers trying to sell you CDs and monks handing out bracelets. The dress up characters (something she used to be afraid of as a child), getting handsy as you walk through the touristy parts creeped her out, and if one more person tried to hand her a flower she was going to scream.
Not even Times Square was this bad.
Her anxiety was getting the better of her and the deeper they got into the walk of fame the more she clung onto Matty’s arm.
He’d sensed her anxiety a while back and had kept closer as the other three oblivious men (of course men, what anxieties do they need to have while walking down a street in the night) walked on ahead.
“Do you want to turn back?”
She shakes her head, “I’d rather not go back through all of them.”
He grins as they get closer to the loud music of this pub a friend had recommended, “Almost there anyway, we’ll get a taxi back from right outside when we’re done, yeah?”
She nods quickly, “Okay.”
His hand lifts to play with some strands of her hair, she’d had a shower before they left and hadn’t had time to dry it, so it was a curly wavy mess.
“I like your hair like this.”
“Really?”
He nods, pulling on it and watching the curl bounce back into place, “It’s messy but put together at the same time, like you. It suits you.”
Tommie stuck by him all night, they both shared a drink, they only did one shot, a couple ciders, and had two G&T’s.
About an hour after Tommie had finished sipping on her orange gin and tonic she and Matty had ordered an uber from right outside and gone back to the hotel, leaving the other three in the bar, all of them too far gone with John running around after them.
In the lift Tommie sighs, leaning back against the wall as she kicks off the heels that George’s date for the night had let her borrow.
She leans down to rub at her left foot while struggling to undo the strap of the right one at the same time.
Matty gives a lopsided smile and kneels down to help her, he taps his knee and she holds her weight on the railing so her aching foot doesn’t take all the weight.
It’s a little hard in her tipsy head but she manages to hold herself upright.
He carefully undoes the strap, slides off the heel, and then delicately places her foot back down, his hand following his movements up her bare leg slowly as he stands.
Her shoes now in his free hand until she stands upright and shoves it into the pocket of his skinny jeans.
“God,” She groans and grimaces, “Did you see that one couple?”
He nods, “The ones that were practically having sex on the table?”
She nods trying to rid the image of the girl lying flat on her back with the guy on top of her, “What ever happened to hello?” She wonders.
“Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk — real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.”
She rolls her eyes, “Stop quoting that book all the time, you twat.”
“Can’t help it,” He shrugs, “Read it so much it's engraved in my brain. Like you with fantastic mr fox. Guarantee you could quote that film word for word.”
“I can’t.”
He nudges her hip with his, “Don’t lie, you definitely can.”
She shrugs her shoulders, “Maybe a few scenes.”
She looks him up and down, “Are you not hot?”
“I’ve been told I am.” He says cheekily leaning to her.
She rolls her eyes, shoving him out the lift when it stops on their floor, “I meant warm, physically, it’s bloody boiling out here.”
“You just think that ‘cause you’re ginger.”
“No, I think that ‘cause I’ve sweat through three t-shirts today.”
She groans as she tries digging around in her pocket, “What?”
“I’m sharing with Ross, he has my key card.”
He pulls his from the back pocket, “I was supposed to be sharing with George until he ditched me for that bird he met a couple days ago, so I have a free bed.”
She smiles, following him inside, “Life saver, you.”
She faceplants the first bed she comes across but he tugs at the foot that hangs off the bed, “Uh uh, my bed’s always the one closest to the door.”
“Why? You gonna fight off any attackers with that pigeon chest?”
He laughs sarcastically, “I was thinking more if anything goes wrong I can run out the fastest.”
“My knight in shining armour, you are.”
He says nothing, just aggressively throws her a pair of shorts an old the cure t-shirt, she’s halfway through pulling it, looking at her tired face in the bathroom mirror that she realises it's her own shirt she lost about four months ago on the tour.
“Hey!”
She rips open the bathroom door and he looks up, “What?”
“I’ve been looking for this top.”
“It’s mine.”
She shakes her head, “No, Adam bought me this when you guys went to that concert a couple years ago. It was my christmas present, my mam spilt wine on it and it stained, look!”
She shoves the stain into his face and he leans back, pushing his glasses up on top of his head.
“Well, it looks better on me anyway.” He says, holding back the smirk.
She grins and pushes him so he falls back on the bed, “Ow, not funny, think I landed on the remote.”
He winces and she feels slightly bad, slightly.
“Pull me up so I can get dressed.”
“Get up yourself.”
“Think it’s only fair after the attempted assault I just endured.”
Rolling her eyes she holds her hands out and he grips them both, he starts pulling himself up but he uses all his body weight to fall back and pull her down with him.
She laughs, bending his arm awkwardly to hold him down, “Tap out.”
“No.”
He tries to twist around but only ends up with her overpowering him even more, “Tap out. I’ll break your arm, Roddy, not even joking.”
He flips her off and they play fight for a while giggles and tickles being passed around until eventually she pinning his arms above his head and panting heavily.
She grins down at him but there’s no humour on his face, his eyes are lidded, head slightly tilted back to stare up at her.
“I won.”
“Mhmm.”
He bites down on his lip and she watches as he has some internal battle behind his eyes as they flicker around her face.
She leans back a little, grip loosening, “Matt-”
He moves forward quickly, sitting up, one hand holding him up on the bed, the other circling around to her back to hold her there as his lips land on hers.
It’s a quick and harsh peck, his bottom lip between hers, their noses pressed into each other's cheeks creating indentations of each other.
He pulls back, doesn’t say a thing as he looks at her, assessing her.
He knows her.
He knows that the softness of her eyes means she at least didn’t hate it. Knows that the crinkle on her one eye means she’s thinking it over.
And he knows that that smile… he knows that that smile will be the death of him.
She moves forward, both her hands in his hair as she brings him closer, leaning backwards until she’s lying flat on her back and he’s on top of her.
His hands are everywhere all at once.
She’s addicting, her taste, her sound, everything about her, he can’t get enough.
One moment his hands are threading through her hair, the next they’re on her face, thumbs rubbing across her round cheeks, then they’re travelling down her arms, down her rib cage, her waist, he wants to touch parts of her no one's even thought of touching before.
He wants to know everything.
He opens his eyes, moving back so he can look, like really look, not like his usual fleeting glances where he’s afraid he’ll get caught.
She lifts herself up on her elbows, trying to chase his lips but he stops her, “Wait, I want to see you.”
She giggles, “I’m right here, Matty.”
“No, I want to see you.” He moves to kiss her cheek, “Explore you,” A kiss on her jaw, “See the way you work, the way you move, hear the way you sound when you cry my name.”
She slaps his chest, but then curls her hand around his white t-shirt to bring his lips back to hers, he mumbles into her lips, “You’re so addicting.”
“That’s just the oxytocin, darling.”
He groans into her ear, biting down on her bottom lip and pulling back, “Call me that again.”
“What? Darling?”
He nods, leaning back to pull his t-shirt off and toss it across the room, “Come here, darling.”
He smiles into the kiss as he pushes her back, their teeth clashing together as he pushes her top upwards.
She doesn’t have a bra on, and he feels himself grow harder when his hands meet her breast.
She arches her back, pushing her hips into his own, “Matty, I’ve-”
He moves his kisses to her neck, “I know. We can stop.”
She shakes her head quickly, hands gripping his shoulders, encouraging his arms to go higher, “No, no,” She shakes her head, the words leaving her lungs in one breath, “Please.”
He moves his kisses to her collar bone, tugging down on the neck of the t-shirt but still telling her, “One word, one word and we’ll stop, Tommie.”
“Just go slow,” She says, chest pushing into his, her hands squeezing his upper arms, “Be gentle.”
“Always with you.”
When Tommie thought of losing her virginity she didn’t think it would be in a hotel room in LA with her cousin’s best mate.
She thought it would be a drunken one night stand with a complete stranger to get it over and done with.
She’s glad it’s Matty.
She trusts Matty.
He finally peels the t-shirt off in a painstakingly slow manner, letting out a low guttural groan at the sigh of her bare chest in front of him, “God.”
His hands move to her shorts, tugging them down and throwing them to the pile, “One word, Tommie.” He says again, moving further down the bed to pull her underwear off too.
She doesn’t say anything, lets herself get lost in the feel of his hands and the fabric pooling at her ankles.
She doesn’t say a single thing until his hands are on her again, “Please.”
He nods, “Gonna go slow, baby,” He kisses her between her thighs, “Nice and slow.”
It was slow, and gentle, but fast and rough at the right times.
It was a mix of his moans and her loud screams of his name as they both allowed themselves to come undone around one another.
It was a mix of hands and mouths roaming each other’s bodies, exploring across freckles like stars on a constellation map.
At one point, when Matty had flipped her over, a pillow beneath her stomach, his hands pushing her shoulder blades down he’d leaned forward and quietly whispered (while still inside her). ‘You have a group of freckles shaped like a moon.’
He’d slowly traced his finger around the crescent shape on her shoulder and then leaned forward to place a kiss there.
“I know.”
Then his lips had moved to the tattoo on the other shoulder, her own words from her poem and coincidentally their song lay there.
He kissed the tattoo, lips slightly open and pushing into her skin before he dragged his bottom lip up towards the nape of her neck.
Only glancing back at the words once more before he pushed himself deeper into her.
‘I love you, don’t you mind?’
But now they lie silently beneath the covers of the bed closest to the door, he pushes the hair from her face, kissing her temple as she allows herself to nuzzle deeper into him.
“Matty?”
She yawns and he carries on playing with her hair, “Yeah, baby?”
“You know what I was saying like oxytocin and serotonin and stuff?”
He hums, “It’s not the chemicals.” She mutters quietly, “Just you.”
He smiles to himself, listening to her breath even out as she finally falls asleep, he pulls back to look down at her, head tilted as he gives her forehead one last kiss. “Good night, beautiful girl.”
Then, shifting further down the bed so he can comfortably rest his head on her chest just above her heart, he allows the sound of her to consume him until he falls asleep.
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@thereisaplaceintheheart
@indierockgirrl
@sofaritsalrightt
@julezs-bl0g
@eaglestar31
@sophinthealpss
@if-my-heart-bleeds
-let me know if you want to be added :)
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allow me to talk about tommy and tubbos dsmp characters for a moment yeah ?? because i find it interesting how differently the trauma tubbo and tommy went through affected them and how it changed their behaviors and decision making.
tubbo went from a happy go lucky kid to a harden war soldier who doesn’t trust easily nor let his emotions control him. he used to be at tommys side at the drop of a pin and was dedicated to helping others while making himself happy. now he’s distanced. whether he’s distanced himself consciously or subconsciously i’m not quite sure but his primary response behaviors to the trauma he’s faced has been his need to start over, change everything, and become a hardened person who demands to be taken seriously.
tommy on the other hand... is quite the opposite. tommy was seen as this brash type of character who likes to cause mischief and although this behavior is still a part of him, it’s diminished quite a lot following his trauma. he used to be driven by passion and emotions, valuing sentiments and relationships above all else. but now he’s an empty shell of what he once was. hes driven by his desperate yearning to feel that happiness comfort and safety he once used to feel. he’s gone all the way to the point of him becoming like a child again. a panicked, on edge, traumatized child who can’t let go of the past and was on the cusp of growing up but never got the chance to. he desperately wants people in his life, yet fervently pushed them away. he now reacts on impulsive emotions rather than passionate emotions.
and THIS is what i find so interesting about their characters and their dynamic. they virtually switched places with each other but to a much more significant degree. aside from that though the thing i want to note is the one common consistency that ties both of their behaviors.
and that’s their responses to change.
tubbo has a strong desire, almost, if not actually, a strong NEED for change. tommy is overwhelmingly adverse to change and wants everything to go back to how it used to be. from an outside perspective and quick glance at them, this seems not the case but when their actions are actually looked at it proves quite true.
this is why tubbo moved to and made snowchester. this is why he married ranboo and had a kid all so quickly. this is why so much of his personality changed so quickly. this is why he was okay with not having tommy move into snowchester with him. tgis is why he was content never needing to visit dream in prison for ‘closure reasons’. he needs change. he needs to get away and leave his past to the past.
and on tommys end this is why hes jealous of ranboo being so close to tubbo. this is why he gets overwhelmed simply by just walking the prime path and seeing so many buildings he doesn’t recognize. this is why he wanted to stay in his old dirt house, even if it meant being alone. this is why he felt the need to visit dream multiple times in prison. he desperately clings onto the past in a futile attempt to regain what he once had and what he once felt. hell, in one of tommys streams ranboo straight up said to tommy, “so what i’m getting is you don’t really like it when things change?” to which tommy paused for a second then eventually replied, “... yeah, i guess i don’t.” this is the FIRST time we see him finally admitting that despite his actions showing us that for a very long time.
moving on to the most recent lore, where tommy and tubbo were both given the opportunity to side with wilbur and sell things out of a van once again like in the l’manberg days.
when given the opportunity to side with wilbur, tubbo chose to move on from his past and side with quackity. a new start. he even tells ranboo that part of his incentive was quackity promising him a better life then he’s ever had. promising him a new start and a new purpose that he could find through las nevadas.
tommy decided to stay with wilbur, clutching to the past, the good old lmanberg days, and desperately hoping that wilbur is the person he was before pogtopia. before he blew up the nation that they built together. before he ruined everything tommy ever loved and cared about. he even told quackity that he feels a moral and emotional responsibility and dependancey to stick by wilburs side due to the familial bond he thinks they share.
their behaviors are very consistent with their trauma responses as they always pick the thing that aligns with their trauma responses. for tubbo it’s moving on. just like he did with snowchester, with ranboo, leaving tommy’s side, and now with quackity and las nevadas. and for tommy it’s refusing change. just like with his house, with him disliking building he doesn’t recognize, having some form of contempt towards ranboo for “taking tubbo away from him”, and now with staying by wilburs side. they’re both very well written characters whom i admire greatly as someone who’s literally in a media making major, it’s quite the perfect tragic character dynamic.
i don’t know what the future holds for them but i’ve had the primary thesis of this analysis written out for about 4 months now and time and time again they keep proving me true as they continue to make decisions based on their subconscious behavioral responses to trauma.
#can you tell i’m a media making major#and a psych minor lmao#anyway i hope you liked this#took me a long ass time to type#i think this all in my head in like 20 seconds but it takes me like 40 mins to type#so pls read#tommyinnit#tubbolive#tubbo#clingy duo#dream smp#dsmp#c!tuboo#c!tommy#quackity#c!quackity#wilbur soot#c!wilbur#ranboo#c!ranboo#bee duo#allium duo#crime boys
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these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, podfics, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with *.
*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 25th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because otherwise this is going to be obnoxiously long.
—
main list ~
✰ black cherries and chocolate by @harryanthus | NR | 666 (intense and jarring in the best way. this leaves you with that heart-racing feeling and panic crawling up your throat)
There is something or well, someone in the walls.
✰ keep secrets just to keep you by @hadestyles | T | 1k (loved this so much!! and need 1000000 more royalty abos from rori immediately)
“With the elements as my witness, I take you to be my husband. My heartbeat begins with you and ends with you, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis sinks to his knees as well, salty tears mixing with the pure rainwater. “And I take you as mine. My heart beats for you and with you.”
✰ bitter coffee and sweet love by @dontfuckwithmyotp | G | 1k (so cute and sweet!! proud of you ari for getting your first fic out and excited to see what you do next!)
“Hello! Welcome to The Busy Bean! Are you new?” Louis blinked in surprise at the voice and looked around to find the source. “Behind you,” The person tapped his shoulder once and he whirled around at the unexpected touch.
“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a person—” His rant stopped when he finally faced them. It was a guy—Harry Styles, according to his small black name tag. His eyes widened in embarrassment.
✰ turn your mic off, baby by @vogueharrystan | E | 2k (i love when lilli writes harry’s pov. this was so hot!)
Louis walks around the house naked all day and ignores Harry to play video games instead. Harry gets tired of it.
✰ This Could Be Love by mulletharry | G | 2k (such a cute and perfect little valentine’s day fic! put the biggest smile on my face <3)
Harry and Louis have been together for four months. They spend their first Valentine’s Day together.
✰ you appear as my soul by @hadestyles | T | 2k (so gorgeous and raw)
He aches — not as much as Louis, he could never imagine all that he bears quietly — and as cruel as it sounds, it keeps reminding him of how fragile they are.
✰ the energy from your body by sweetielouis | E | 3k (hilarious, hot, and cute!)
Harry and his friends have a popular podcast, for the Valentines Day special they get a bit drunk and talk a bit too comfortably about their friends arses.
It's a good thing Louis doesn't mind it all that much.
✰ look how i remember by @harryanthus | M | 4k (this left me speechless and aching)
He hates it, he wants to scream and tell Harry as much. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me as if we are in love. Kiss me like you will never do it again. Kiss me with so much hatred that it turns back to love.
✰ Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup | G | 5k (so so cute and funny!!)
"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."
It feels like time slows down.
Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.
The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.
The man is gone.
His soulmate is gone.
✰ reckless serenade by @thepolourryexpress | E | 4k (adorable and funny and amazing!)
Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'
✰ dancing in the moonlight by @outropeace | E | 5k (need 100k more of this immediately, thanks. so wonderful)
Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.
✰ The truth is, the stars are falling by larrysbeanies | E | 5k (hot!!! walking-in trope that i love so much)
Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.
Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?
Louis would really like to know.
✰ to be used and to be in love by @thelesserneptune | E | 5k (blessed that this is a series. really hot and cute!)
Louis doesn't know why his filthy best friend turned into a vanilla boyfriend and thinks of the perfect birthday present to solve that problem.
✰ on the borderline by @princelouisau | E | 8k (the way danielle writes... poetry. this broke me down and then stitched me back up <3)
Louis makes his choice.
✰ One Step Closer by agrinwithouthiscat | G | 12k (reading asexual hl fics is instant comfort and this was lovely)
The one fake relationship AU where they don't end up together.
✰ i glow pink in the night by @raspberryoatss | E | 12k (hybrid louis perfection, beautiful writing, characters, and story as always!)
Harry reads a lot of articles about hybrids and Louis is determined to prove them wrong.
✰ The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by @speakingwithink | G | 13k (asexual hl again! this one made me cry)
Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.
✰ Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice by @harriblou | M | 13k (enemies with benefits to lovers goodness! so hot and entertaining)
“You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.”
Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing.
“You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.
✰ hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas | NR | 16k (this writer’s atmosphere/prose draws me in every time. such a lovely story)
Harry's in the army, Louis' back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.
✰ The Future is Now by @jacaranda-bloom | E | 16k (love fics in this five times format and this one was so unique and cool!! and the friends to lovers aspect = chef’s kiss)
Five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.
✰ Visceral Heat & Carnal Highs by @theisolatedlily | E | 18k (the prose in this... gorgeous. so fucking good and addicting. delighted that there’s going to be a sequel and excited for whatever lily does next!)
Louis is a demon at a house party prowling for a meal, indulging in horrendous sins to satisfy his hunger. Harry is the talk of the night, beckoning all eyes on him and the reason why Louis’s plan goes awry.
✰ deFENCEless by @solvetheminourdreams | T | 27k (this was so cute and so funny and i had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. not surprised since stef always evokes that in me with her writing)
When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).
✰ darling, you give love a bad name by snowcaplou | M | 29k (been waiting for this one since summer and i wasn’t disappointed! so wonderful and real!)
Louis’ has been best friends with Gemma all his life in this stupid little town he’s grown to hate. What happens when, after one night together with his best friend’s brother, he falls pregnant? Surrounded by small minds and conservative cultures, Louis has to deal with parents that demand they do the “right” thing. Get married before anybody finds out.
✰ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson* by @helloamhere | T | 31k (will never not be an all-time favorite. louis’ character is my absolute favorite - gothic heroine indeed - and harry is the best dramatic gay ghost ever <3)
Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!
✰ begged and borrowed time by @bottomlwt | M | 40k (this concept was so unique and so cool!! loved the medieval setting and the time travel and how everything fit together in the end!!)
“It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."
✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees.* by @daddyharrie | E | 45k (definition of ris comfort read - on nth reread and still love it wholly. makes me miss la which is an astonishing feat in itself)
Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.
Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.
Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.
A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.
✰ haunted by the ghost of you* by @missandrogyny | E | 49k (perhaps my favorite fic of all time? the humor, the characters, the angst?!?! all the britney spears!! and pink ouija boards and wikihow!!)
He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.
Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.
“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”
At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.
Nick Grimshaw was right.
✰ like real people do by @eeveelou | E | 64k (this was... so amazing. the characters were so wonderfully written and so was the journey of healing and growth that louis undertakes over the story :’) loved the contrast between l and h’s lives and how they fit into each other still so perfectly)
Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.
✰ Black With Autumn Rain by whimsicule | T | 93k (i actually can’t remember if i’ve read this before??? either way - it was wonderful! loved the setting and atmosphere and the supernatural elements! i was so intrigued from the first sentence onwards)
Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.
podfics ~
✰ tall stories on the page by @soldouthaz & read by @softlouislove | T (hannah’s voice is so lovely and perfect for reading aloud - and ofc the fic itself is amazing)
Harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip. Louis is a nice change of pace.
wips ~
✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved | E | 60k | 6/16 (just caught up fully today but i’m really enjoying everything! this is everything i’ve ever wanted in a fantasy fic)
Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.
✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies | E | 39k | 3/10 (having a blast reading this one!! i’ve never seen the bachelor in my life but in fic-format, it’s so fun!)
So maybe Louis’ in over his head.
He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.
✰ The Night Still Whispers Sins of Old by @toomanydreamers | E | 6k | 2/? (loving this so much, as expected. can’t wait to see how everything unfolds)
Two and a half years have passed since the fateful day when Louis and Harry were crowned Triwizard champions. Confronted with misunderstandings, wounded pride and heartache, Louis stumbled away from the possibility of a future relationship with Harry. Instead, he buried himself into relentless work as a junior Auror and refused to let himself be vulnerable with another person. Circumstances change that force Louis to confront his feelings - and Harry. Stolen glances, picnics at sunrise, thrilling adventures, original spellwork, midnight feasts, soft lips and cautious second chances culminate in an unforgettable mission - but will it be enough to mend their relationship?
non-1d ~
✰ like a bullet needs a gun by @millsxwriting | T | 21k | wilds au (despite me having no context, mills still got me to fall in love with toni and shelby. this was so cute and lovely!!)
Toni doesn’t expect to fall for anyone in her senior year. Least of all for Shelby Goodkind, the new girl that arrived in town just before the end of summer. In fact, Toni can’t even look at her for longer than two seconds, or listen to more than three sentences coming out of her mouth without wanting to accidentally push her off a cliff.
Cue a group project and endless bickering, and suddenly Toni finds herself with an unbearable crush.
If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!
*if i made any errors, please let me know :)
enjoy!
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“the president and the troublemaker” (part 10) (chilumi fic)
“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”
[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9]
[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link] // [Main AO3]
the president and the troublemaker (part 10)
Lumine should have known the instant she saw those blue highlights and mischievous grin that the new student was going to be trouble. Not as much as a certain ginger, but trouble nonetheless.
He was playing his ukulele and singing about himself as his introduction, and the teacher wasn’t even stopping him. It didn’t help that their classmates were encouraging him with their words of praise and loud cheers.
Lumine stood from her seat. “Great introduction—Venti, was it?” she said, keeping her voice as cordial as possible. “But we don’t allow personal instruments during class time. You can put it away in your locker later.”
Venti’s face scrunched up sheepishly. “Ehe, sorry.” He tilted his head at her. “Wait, who are you?”
Lumine gave a polite smile. “I’m your student council president.”
Venti shrugged. “Oh, okay,” he said. He turned to the rest of the class. “Sorry, looks like I’ll just have to play for you guys later.”
There were utterances of disappointment as the new student sat in his seat, and Lumine sighed. “Rules are rules,” Lumine said to the class.
Within the next few hours, as she led him through a tour of the school, she realized that everyone who met him, instantly liked him. Lumine had no idea what it was. Perhaps it was his cheerful and carefree disposition, kind with some sass—and of course his constant playing of his instrument as they roamed the halls.
“Could you stop playing your ukulele, Venti? I’m afraid it’s a bit distracting to the other students who are in class,” Lumine said. It was the fifth time she had asked.
“I think we would all be better off with some light music in our lives, don’t you think, Madame President?” Venti replied with a light giggle.
A tiny group of students had gathered around the two of them, and Venti happily played for the crowd. Lumine sighed, as it meant they would have to stop their tour again.
“Oh, hi, Lumine!” Xiangling said, approaching from the crowd. “What’s going on?”
Lumine leaned against the wall. “New student causing a scene. He keeps playing his little ukulele, even though I’ve told him to put it away. Many times.”
Xiangling closed her eyes and listened for a second. “Wow, he’s pretty good!”
“Not helping,” Lumine said as she rubbed her forehead.
“Where’s he from?” the chef asked.
“Not sure,” the blonde answered. She turned to the new student, in attempts to stop him from playing, and asked, “Where did you say you were from again, Venti?”
Miraculously, the bard stopped his music. “From the outskirts of Mondstadt! The countryside,” he answered with a smile.
“Ooo,” Xiangling uttered excitedly. “Why’d you decide to come here, to the city?”
An even brighter smile. “Well, I actually lived here a long, long time ago, but I had to leave because a family member of mine got really sick. He passed away recently.”
The whole hallway stilled, the mood expectantly dampened as Venti shared his past.
However, his expression never changed; he kept smiling, blue highlights glowing in the sunlight. “And now, I’m back here to find my first love!”
Everyone blinked at Venti for a second. Then, the crowd erupted into swoons and whoops as questions upon questions were thrown at him: What’s her name? How did you two meet? Where is she now? Is she cute?
“She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen!” Venti gushed. “She was always so kind to me, even when others bullied me. Oh, and she always made me the most delicious grape juice ever!” He perked up. “She knew I really loved grape juice.”
“How romantic!” Xiangling squealed. (Well, of course; her love language is food, Lumine thought.) “But how do you know if she’s still here or not?”
“Right,” Lumine agreed. How could he be so tiringly optimistic? “What if she moved away while you were gone?”
Venti thought for a second, before shaking his head. An endearing fondness washed over his face. “Then I’ll just keep searching.”
His teal eyes met Lumine’s. He gave her a smile, one not as cheeky as before—softer, more bashful. “After all,” he said, “I promised Lumine I’d always come back for her.”
…
???
LUMINE?!
Lumine.
As in me?!
She felt like she had been tasered right in the chest, her whole body locking up as eyes shifted towards her, whispers breaking out in the crowd—“But isn’t that…?”
Venti, his head in a world of its own, nearly skipped down the hallway, humming to himself, oblivious of the reactions around him.
“I wonder if she’ll hear me if I sing loud enough?” he wondered aloud as everyone saw him head outside. The gathering of students all followed him out the door.
Xiangling looked at the president, still frozen, with wide eyes. “Uhm, Lumi? Are you okay?”
Lumine nodded stiffly, her head reeling as she searched her memories for anyone who looked like Venti.
“Is that true?” her blue-haired friend asked. “What Venti said? About you...being his first love?”
Then it hit her.
Lumine and Aether did play with a kid named Venti all the time as children. They played pretend as princesses and knights and dragons; the twins would giggle and laugh at Venti’s silly songs all the time; and Lumine would peel grapes and mash them up with sugar for everyone at the end of a long day of running around. It was a child’s simple recipe for “grape juice,” but Venti genuinely thought it was the greatest drink in the world.
She would even scare off his (and Aether’s) bullies. Venti’s family wasn’t around much, so she took it upon herself to look after him: making sure he did his work, tending to his injuries, cheering him up when he cried.
It felt like an eternity ago, those memories of happier, more innocent times.
Lumine’s hand flew to her head, slowly pushing back her blonde bangs as the realization dawned on her. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Tone-deaf bard,” she said, her old nickname for him ghosting off her lips. “I-I knew him. Me and Aether, we used to play with him all the time.”
Xiangling’s eyes grew wider, if possible. “It’s true,” she whisper-yelled. “You are his first love!” she yelled, louder.
The two stopped their conversation as they heard loud singing coming through the window. They peered outside, where Venti had climbed the tallest tree in the courtyard, and was serenading out to the entire school.
Lumine’s jaw dropped, and she quickly ran out the door as well, Xiangling hot on her tail. “That idiot! He’s going to fall!”
She made it to the foot of the tree, where she now clearly heard Venti shouting, “LuLu~! Where are you~?”
LuLu…
That was definitely him. Venti was the only one who ever called her that nickname.
“Venti! Get down here right now before you fall!” Lumine shouted up at him.
He stuck his tongue out at her, and strummed his ukulele.
As he started singing, drowning out Lumine’s demands for him to come down, Lumine felt the familiar irritation she felt so long ago, when she had to care take of him, despite all the stupid decisions he made.
She grit her teeth. “Get down here right now, you tone-deaf bard!”
Venti stopped strumming, his head snapping to where Lumine stood.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then, he jumped down.
Lumine felt all the air rush out of her lungs as she gasped in shock, her feet carrying her to catch him before her brain could even think about it.
But as he fell, Venti tucked and rolled, gracefully landing on the ground, standing up straight in front of Lumine.
“You,” he said, his tone the most serious it had been all day. “What’s your name?”
“Lumine,” she answered. She quickly added, “But I’m really different now; I’m not like I was back then—”
Venti leapt on her, arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. His ukulele was even forgotten, dropped on the floor nearby.
“LuLu!” he cheered breathlessly. He spun her around, breaking into giggles. “I’m finally home!”
As the students around them broke into outbursts of shocked gasps and encouraging cheers, Lumine glanced at them, awkwardly patting Venti on the back. The bard was oblivious to her stiffness, ignorant of the craze he had just caused, the consequences that would follow his little public confession.
Lumine could only imagine it now, all the gossip and questioning that would surround her within days, hours even.
Please let this blow over quickly.
* * *
“Venti…,” Childe muttered. At least he had a name for the little twerp.
His posture slouched as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, dark eyes watching the scene unravel below with Lumine and the new kid. It was his first day, and yet, he was already causing a wave of news around the school.
From the open window he stood by, Childe had heard everything. Venti was a childhood friend from Lumine’s past, and he had returned to her because she was his first love.
To everyone else, this new student was an immediate favorite. Childe, on the other hand, felt acid pulse through his veins as Venti called out Lumine’s name, and he nearly jumped out the window when the two were embracing.
Venti definitely wasn’t a fighter, right? It would be so easy to dispose of him—
Childe let out a sharp sigh, running a hand through his hair.
What was this? Why was he feeling threatened by this new kid?
“Wouldn’t it be much easier for you to make it official?” someone said next to Childe. Looking to his right, his eyes met Albedo’s.
“You and the President, I mean,” Albedo continued, his piercing blue eyes trailing down to the courtyard.
“Astute observations as always, Albedo,” Childe said. “What do you know about me and the Pres?”
“I know that what the President told me was a lie,” the scientist answered. “There is definitely a sort of romantic chemistry between the two of you.”
“Oh? How do you figure?”
Albedo loosely crossed his arms. “I specialize in observations. Stolen glances, affirmative body language, rising body temperatures—habits indicative of romantic interest. For the two of you, it’s mutual.” He paused. “I don’t plan on telling anyone. I’ve kept it to myself, if you were wondering.”
“Don’t scientists share their findings with the world?”
“I’m more interested...personally. I’d like to see how it plays out.” His blonde head tilted slightly. “Though, why you two haven’t started dating baffles me.”
A tiny scoff escaped Childe’s lips. “Why’s that?”
Albedo put his hand to his chin, thinking. “It would surely benefit the both of you. You would stop receiving those weekly confessions from every girl in school, and the President wouldn’t have to continue her tiring charade of acting like she doesn’t know you. It looks painful for you both.” Below, there were cheers from the students surrounding Lumine and Venti. “And you wouldn’t have to be silently fuming from up here while the President is being reintroduced to, quite possibly, her first love as well,” he added.
Childe clenched his jaw. He hadn’t even considered that possibility.
He started walking to the stairs without a second thought.
“Interesting observations, Albedo,” he said as he walked away. “Do me a favor and use those skills of yours to find out anything about Venti for me.”
He left the scientist mulling over his request while he headed straight to the courtyard.
* * *
Lumine had managed to shoo the gathering of students back into their classrooms without too much of a fuss; Venti was a lot harder to get rid of, however, as he was currently glued to her side, his arm linked with hers.
“Okay, Venti, it was nice catching up, but you have to go to class now,” Lumine said as they walked down the hallway.
“Just like old times! You’re still trying to get me to be more responsible.”
“And just like old times, it doesn’t work.” She unhooked her arm from his, putting her hands on her hips. “Seriously, Venti. You need to go to class. I’m not saying this as your friend; I am saying this as your student council President.”
“Aw, I forgot how scary you could be, LuLu,” he responded sheepishly. “Hey, what do you say we go to that old café by your house? Do you still live there?”
Lumine rubbed at her temples as she rounded the corner. Thankfully, Venti’s classroom is closeby.
She stopped in her tracks when she looked up and saw Childe there, leaning against the wall as if he had been waiting there for her.
“Ah, so you are alive, Pres,” Childe said. “I was beginning to think you were dead. Or were you just ignoring me?”
Lumine gnawed on the side of her cheek. Of course he would show up right now.
“It’s a busy time for the student council. We’re planning our class trip,” she replied curtly.
“LuLu, is this one of your friends?” Venti asked, teal eyes lighting up. He held out his hand. “I’m Venti! How do you do?”
“This is Childe,” Lumine interjected, gently pushing the bard’s extended hand down. “He’s a delinquent. Don’t associate with him.”
The delinquent in question gave her a strained smile. “Ouch. I’d say my ways are quite reformed now, don’t you think?” He peeled off the wall, coming a bit closer—completely ignoring Venti. He continued, “In fact, I’ve saved you a few times, haven’t I?” He flashed a grin of faux-innocence.
What was he doing? Was he really about to reveal all their secrets in front of Venti?
“Venti, go to your class. I’ve got to deal with Childe,” Lumine said, desperate to get her old friend out of there. When Venti started to protest, she clenched her teeth. “Now.”
Venti let out a shaky laugh, his eyes shifting from Childe and Lumine, then disappeared into a nearby classroom. Childe’s eyes seemed aflame as he tracked Venti leaving.
Lumine let out a heavy sigh. “What are you doing?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you want the entire school to know about us?!”
A smirk. “There’s an ‘us?’”
Now Lumine’s face completely burned. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been coming to training, but I really have been busy with the student council.”
Childe didn’t respond, and just stared at her. “Who is he to you?”
“...Who? Venti?” She pursed her lips. “He’s a childhood friend. We used to be close, I guess. But I haven’t talked to him in years.”
“Did you ever love him?”
“Wh-What kind of question is that?” Lumine sputtered.
Childe pressed in closer. “Just answer the question, Lumine.”
She took a step back. We’re at school, idiot! If a student decided to walk out of a classroom at that very moment, their secret would be out.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I honestly can’t remember that much right now.”
Childe’s lips tilted into a frown. “That just won’t do, Pres.” His voice had lowered. “Aren’t you going to save me?”
Lumine’s heart rate sped up as she recalled the two of them, on the beach, whispering promises to save one another.
“Save you from what? Be serious, Childe,” she said, annoyed.
“Loneliness.” He flashed a quick smile. “Let’s go on a date.”
Lumine stumbled back from Childe as if she had been electrocuted. “I-I don’t have time for this right now.” She turned on her heel, stomping away. “Go back to class!”
She finally relaxed when she found an empty classroom to clear her head. Thankfully, Childe hadn’t followed her.
He liked her. She liked him. So why am I still being like this?
Even with her limited knowledge of romance, she knew the next logical step would be for them to start dating, right?
The prospect made her antsy.
It was a complete unknown. There were too many ways it could go wrong, too many ways it could end in pain and ruin everything. To chalk it up, she was scared.
She and her family had been absolutely heartbroken when her father had left. She witnessed firsthand what a broken relationship could cause, the damage it did to everyone involved.
And yet, knowing all this, having all her fears festering within, she still insisted on seeing him. Childe.
He made her feel normal, even with her secrets. He made her feel welcomed and safe. So she didn’t push him away. She wanted to stay with him.
DING!
Lumine jolted from her thoughts, and pulled out her phone to check. It was the student council group chat, all wondering where she was, needing her to be present for another meeting about the upcoming class trip to Liyue.
She sighed, pocketing the phone, quickly making her way to the council room.
I don’t have time to think about that stuff right now, she thought with a frown.
Just get through the class trip, and then I can worry about that later.
Lumine glanced outside the window. Gray clouds had gathered in the sky. A storm was brewing.
She stopped, and prayed for a smooth trip to Liyue.
* * *
[part 11]
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Hello I’ve written this short fic. based on the clip we’ve got from Shadow and Bone of Jesper and Inej performing, but with a twist!
You can read it on Ao3 as well
Silks, Guns and All the Things Fun (Not)
Words count: 2898
The chattering at the Crow Club was thicker than usual and it ricocheted around the lower floor of the building, bouncing off the draped walls. Kaz Brekker made his way there from where he had been dealing cards on the upper part of the club. It had been quite a profitable night, with many pigeons all too eager to let the rush of the gambling go to their head and lose everything. His cane tapped on the stairs as he descended them, an ominous and irregular melody announcing who was coming down those steps. He stopped just before the las two and scanned the room, his shark eyes checking if everything was in order. Kaz saw at least a couple of people flinching when his eyes had met theirs. Good. It seemed that his infamy was the same unblemished, or rather very blemished, story of terror as ever. He had worked all of his angles to make it that way, and he had every intention to keep it up as long as he lived, his thirst for personal revenge too strong to be sated in any other way.
Kaz threw another glance around the room until he found who he was looking for. He approached her, men and women making themselves scarce as he passed them. Inej was in the corner, intent on untangling something thick, the crimson fabric like a river of blood in her hands. Her long hair was tied up in a coil at the nape of her neck as she usually wore it, a light vest covering her shoulders and arms, and peeking from a sleeve he saw something wrapped around her forearm. She had covered her feather tattoo since she was going to remove the vest and perform in bare arms, something that had stirred not little emotions inside the hollow of his armor.
“I trust that everything is ready,” Kaz rasped, looking down at her from where he was standing. Not surprised in the slightest, as if she had known all along who was about to speak to her, Inej kept her eyes on her task. “Good evening to you, too Kaz. How are you?” Her tone unbothered if a little bit sarcastic…
This girl. If it had been any other person speaking to him like that, they would have run away with a few broken limbs or without teeth. Or perhaps both. Kaz couldn’t understand why, but his relationship, if that could be called, with her had always felt different. Nobody treated him the way she did, he didn’t allow it, but whatever it was that propelled him to always find excuses to talk to her, be near to her when he could, he didn’t like it.
Liar. A voice in his head reprimanded him. him. You keep lying to yourself, Brekker. He blinked. Usually he would have ignored her, but that night he didn’t know what forced possessed him and he decided to indulge her.
“Yes, hello Inej darling. I’ll be better when all of this is over, and we’ve made our profit.”
When the term of endearment had left his lips, she had looked at him with a sonorous sigh. Inej raised to her feet, not really making a difference since she was so small, the red silks now draped on one shoulder, and her eyes peered straight into his. The amber, low lights of this particular floor of the club reflected into her irises, making it look like she had flames burning behind them.
Kaz thought again to himself that she had never looked more like a painted icon of those Saints she so much adored than in that moment and gripped his cane tighter to try and snap out of his reveries, to try and quiet the raging emotions inside. The ridges of the crow’s head unmistakable even under his gloved hands.
“Everything will go as planned: we’ll perform, and we’ll make sure all of these pigeons are probably plucked. Don’t worry.” She passed him, careful to avoid touching him and went to hang the silks she had been preparing.
Kaz promised not to let his gaze follow her but failed. He saw how with a graceful movement she looped one end of the prop into the hook on the wall. Once again, he forced himself not to let his thoughts wander too much and with a slightly louder voice called after her.
“If you’re so ready, where in Ghezen’s name, is Jesper?”
“He’ll be here,” she shrugged not preoccupied at all.
“He’d better be.” He checked his time piece and looking once again at her he said: “We start in five minutes. Go get yourself prepared.”
He heard Inej exhaling loudly. Again. A habit, he realized, she had acquired in these last months. Was it perhaps because she was starting to feel a little more comfortable with this life he had given her, with his gang… with him?
Inej got closer to him, not intimidated at all to look at him straight in the eye.
“I know what I’m doing, but if I’ll be ever looking for a coach, I’ll know who to turn to. Now, excuse me.”
She brushed past him, one instant she was there and then next gone.
***
Fitting how Kaz had found the darkest part of the room to stand in during Jesper’s and Inej’s little show. The sharpshooter had turned up at the last minute, literally the last, when the audience had already gathered around the little space they had arranged specifically for the two of them, and Kaz had already excogitated a hundred different way to kill him. He had of course given a piece of his mind, seething to the gangly boy, who in returned had just shrugged, winked at him and told him that “People love big entrances, I’m making us a favor,” before scurrying to his designated seat at the center of the makeshift stage.
Kaz had come up with this idea months prior, but Inej and Jesper had actually started performing only a couple of weeks ago. He had had to use all of his most convincing arguments to let Per Haskell see how incredibly fruitful this would all be. That old man and his drunken ass…
After many requests from his lieutenant part he had conceded, and Kaz had made it look so as if the leader of the Dregs had had this brilliant idea himself, a thing that had worked out for the best since he had gone strolling around the Barrel boasting how his club was offering entertainments that no other could. A good publicity indeed, and Dirtyhands had smirked pleased with himself, his plan had worked. As always.
His breath caught in his throat when he saw Inej climbing the silks, her fluid movements made it look so easy, as if she was taking a stroll instead of keeping herself up with only her body strength.
“Ladies ang gentlemen, thugs and thieves,” started Jesper walking the perimeter of the free space and catching the attention of the people there. “Tonight you’ll see something that only few would be brave to attempt. My lovely assistant will perform one of her tricks with a card stuck between her lips,” at that the girl in question removed from thin air a card and showed it to the audience, only one part of her body now supporting her, the silks wrapped around it, as the other half hanged from them. “While I will attempt to shoot at it.”
Many gasps could be heard around the room as well as excited whispers.
“Let’s begin!” Jesper said, now with a much more serious tone.
Kaz had to admit it, even if at times Jesper was a total buffoon he knew how to mesmerize an audience, and he had them in the palm of his hands.
The sharpshooter took his position, and removed from the ground a little polished, silver tray. Kaz had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as Jesper looked at his reflection winked at himself and then kissed his beloved revolver, while exhaling with (fake) preoccupation. Could this boy be more theatrical than that? The Bastard of the Barrel sighed, convinced that there was no end to his second in command’s love for the dramatics. Inej wrapped her limbs expertly in the silks and then with a fearless dive, she let herself fall so that her body was hanging upside-down.
The split second before Jesper could shoot, Kaz’s and Inej’s eye met, and the world seemed to stop for a bit.
He knew damn well that the Zemeni boy was the best shot around, he had never seen him miss. Never. On top of that, he suspected that the little secret he was keeping from everyone, but that Kaz had of course found out about, somehow helped him with his formidable aim. Yet… why in the name of his beloved kruge did he feel nervous for her?
You need to get it together and stop thinking this sentimental stuff. He scolded himself, not for the first time that night.
After a second or perhaps an eternity he moved his gaze away from hers.
Jesper shot and… the bullet struck the card exactly in the middle. The raucous cheering of the audience was what ground him completely again. Inevitably, as if a magnet drawn to the pole, he saw Inej finish her performance with a couple of flips, before landing as effortlessly and elegantly as ever, a big grin on her face. Kaz himself couldn’t help the light movement upward of the corner of his mouth, that died immediately when he noticed how the sharpshooter, now standing, turned around to return the smile, and finally joined her, taking her hand to bow.
That nagging feeling inside him was as demanding as ever. He hated it. He wanted it to stop.
The applause of the people surrounding him turned into a distant sound, as a clear thought struck him then and there. He was never going to have that easy demeanor Jesper had with her, he was never going to be able to take her hand without drowning, he could never tell her that despite all his effort he couldn’t resist the constant pull he felt whenever she was close and that made everything even worse.
Inej’s eyes managed to find his again in his dark corner, the smile she still had lightened her features, but it dropped as soon as she saw what was a very grim expression marking his face.
He wanted to yell. Tell her to keep on smiling, because he felt very much alive whenever she did, like none other things could, but instead he just gripped his cane tighter, and forced himself to look around the room.
When Jesper and Inej approached him after the audience had dispersed a bit, he was still waging his inner war.
“Wasn’t our Wraith amazing?” Jesper asked excitedly, an arm slung around the shorter girl’s shoulders, before adding “Wasn’t I amazing?”
“You just did what you had to. No more no less. And besides, many of these people had already seen this particular performance, so I wouldn’t let all those adoring people get to your head.” He rasped before leaving them standing.
As he made his way to return to the upper level of the Club, he heard the sharpshooter sighing loudly. “You can never win with him, can you?”
“No one can,” was Inej’s curt answer.
He knew her eyes were following him; he could feel it and he never detested more the vindictive and cold creature he had become than now.
***
The Crow Club at that hour of the night, or rather early morning, was deserted. Kaz had ordered the others to go back to the Slat as he stayed behind to make sure everything was in order before close-up. He once again descended the stairs that would bring him to the lower floor, the silks and the other props gone and already been stashed away. As he scanned the room though, he noticed something on the ground, near where the silks were usually hanged. In the dim light he could see it was a piece of dark cloth, and as he got closer, he noticed that it wasn’t just any piece of cloth, but the one Inej had wrapped around her forearm to cover her tattoo. He crouched down, with no little protest from his bad leg, and took it in one gloved hand, the gesture almost reverent.
If someone were to enter the room now, they would have found Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands himself, on his knees cradling a strip of cloth in his hands. He shook his head in disbelief and made to stand up, when CRASH!
Something had fallen and in his fear of having been discovered, Kaz quickly tucked the wrap in his suit pocket as he made leverage on his cane to stand. He saw that what had startled him had been a stool, now on the ground. He passed a hand through his hair in exasperation. He really needed to get a grip.
In the days following Kaz didn’t realize that out of nowhere he would put his hand in his pocket and rub the little piece of fabric between his fingers, a thing that oddly enough always managed to calm him. He didn’t realize it, until he did. It had been a late night in which he had been working for the Dregs and his pathetic excuse of a leader, now scheming, now scribbling and adding numbers. The little thing had been placed on his shambled desk, a trusted companion of his. He had meant to return it, if not to Inej directly, to at least casually leave it where he had found it, but in the end he hadn’t. That night he had sent his Wraith out to gather information regarding a certain mercher’s rich art collection, and he hadn’t almost heard her, almost, entering his attic room from the window. Kaz hadn’t known how he had been able to stash her piece of fabric away before she could see him gently passing it between his fingers.
He only imagined the conversation they would have had if he had taken a second too long to hide it.
You know Inej, I casually found it on the ground but instead of leaving it there I’m keeping your arm wrapping as a stress-relieving token. But it’s not like it may look. I’m not obsessed with you or anything.
Could he be more pathetic than that? Since when had he gone this soft? Oh yes, he knew, ever since he had paid her indenture and she had joined the Dregs, that was when. To make things worse that night had ended with Inej casually sitting on his window seat: her head resting on the wall, her eyes closed. Indefinite and unnamed emotions had stirred once again inside of him, as a very precise, but not really polite word echoed in his head… he was so screwed.
From that moment on he had debated whether to just give it to her and telling her that he had found it but that it had just slipped his mind until then, or continuing keeping the damn thing. A constant battle in his mind that complemented the one inside his heart.
He kept it.
If Kaz was never going to have Inej, as he wished he could, he at least could have a part, no matter how small and insignificant, of her.
That day, his feet carried him on their own accord outside her door, a floor exactly below his room. They had encountered some troubles with some too cocky members of the Black Tips and the whole ordeal had left them all pretty shaken – except Kaz of course – and with two dead members of his crew. Kaz didn’t know why he was standing here, on the other side of her closed door. She might not even be here, he had thought trying to find excuses to turn back from where he had come.
But he knew. He somehow sensed that she was inside her little room.
What exactly was he thinking, what was he doing here as a gaping fish out her door? Did he want to make sure she was okay? See if she needed anything?
Oh yes, because you’ve been nothing but an example of emotional support, Brekker.
When he was about to turn and go back to the attic, cursing himself for his stupidity, the door in front of him opened. Inej stood there, and for once her hair was not tied back but loose on her shoulders, cascading in delicate waves around her frames, the result of having kept it tight in a braid.
“Is anything wrong, Kaz? Why are you standing outside my door as if you’d seen a Saint?” she had asked.
I think I wanted to see you, I’m not sure why and I’m going insane. He thought, but of course didn’t say, too cowardly and bitter to do so. Instead, Kaz quickly put his hand in his pocket, and found what he knew would be there. Gripping her piece of fabric, he managed to answer with his usual lack of emotions.
“Go find Jesper. I found us a job. What would you say to one million kruge?”
#six of crows#pre six of crows#pre soc#canon compliant#shadow and bone#grihsaverse#the grisha trilogy#the grisha series#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#my fic#my story#soc fic#six of crows fanfic#kanej#kanej fanfic
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Concrete and asphalt
Do you know why it feels so good to give me your obedience? Why does it make you wet when I tell you what kind of martini to make? “Hendricks Gin Three olives. A splash of olive juice.” Why do you smile when I tell you which robe I want you to wear after I've thoroughly used your body? “No. The gray one. The one with the fluffy trim and lapels.” It doesn't matter what I demand or when I demand it. It's the certainty in my voice that makes you obey. It's concrete to lean on when you're off balance. It's asphalt under your feet after you've been on uneven terrain.
I call you on my way home from work. “Black stockings. Lace panties. High heels. You pick the bra. I want you to put on that peach lipstick and enough gloss to make your lips look like glass.”
Do you ever ask yourself, “How did I end up here?” Try to think back to the start. Do you remember? People look up to you. They watch as you get off the elevator. They notice you entering a meeting room. You're the one they come to in a crisis. You’re the shoulder to lean on when they think they're about to crumble under the pressure. Then why do you need me to tell you how I want you to sit. “Legs crossed. Hands folded on your knee. Back straight. Head lowered.”
Our relationship didn’t begin with a casual dinner and a kiss outside your front door. It didn’t start late one night after too much to drink. I earned my place. I took my time. I peeled back every single layer. When I thought I had reached the end I realized I was no where close. I kept going. And now here we are. I’m somewhere in the middle, too far in to turn back, unsure if I have enough time on this Earth to learn everything I want to know.
My dominance isn’t something I use to control you. The day any task I give feels like a chore will be the last day I give you a task. I want you smiling as you plan your evening around what you’ve been told. I want you dripping when you go to the store. “On your way home, pick up three candles. Get the long ones meant for candlesticks. I need two red and one white. And no, you cannot ask me what they’re for.”
This is about a connection that only another kinky person could understand. Your service is your expression of devotion. The tasks I gift you are my way of making sure you know I need to own you. You're not controlled by my demands. My rules don’t restrict you. They’ve set you free. “Take off your clothes. Lay down on your back. Fold your hands over your stomach. Make your body loose so I can easily move each of your limbs.”
After I’ve blindfolded you; after I’ve bound you, it must cross your mind. Do you wonder if it’s always been this way? When you hear the lighter flick are you asking “When did I lose myself in his control?” Feel my warmth surround you. My dominance drips over you like hot wax falling from a lit candle. It hardens on your skin and becomes part of you. Without it, the world seems gray. All I ask is that your submission grows. I want your devotion to expand. When you think you’ve gone as deep as you can know that there is so much more to unlock. This thing we've built together has no end point. Either we keep building on what we've already created or it will eventually collapse.
🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻
Concreto y asfalto.
¿Sabes por qué se siente tan bien darme tu voluntad? ¿Por qué te mojas cuando te digo qué tipo de martini hacer? “Hendricks Gin tonic con tres aceitunas, un chorrito de jugo de aceitunas. ¿Por qué sonríes cuando te digo qué bata quiero que te pongas después de haber usado tu cuerpo sin piedad? "No. El gris. El que tiene el ribete suave y las solapas. No importa lo que exija ni cuándo lo exija. Es la certeza de mi voz lo que te hace obedecer. Es concreto en el que apoyarse cuando se pierde el equilibrio. Es asfalto bajo tus pies después de haber estado en un terreno irregular.
Te llamo camino a casa del trabajo. "Medias negras. Ropa interior de Encaje. Tacones altos. Tú eliges el sostén. Quiero que te pongas esa barra de labios color melocotón y suficiente brillo para que tus labios parezcan de cristal.
¿Alguna vez te has preguntado, "¿Cómo terminé aquí?" Trata de pensar en volver al principio. ¿Te acuerdas? La gente te admira. Te observan mientras te bajas del ascensor. Se dan cuenta de que entras en una sala de reuniones. Tu eres a quien acuden en una crisis. Eres el hombro en el que apoyarse cuando creen que están a punto de desmoronarse bajo la presión. Entonces, ¿por qué necesitas que te diga cómo quiero que te sientes? "Piernas cruzadas. Manos cruzadas sobre la rodilla. Espalda recta. Cabeza baja.
Nuestra relación no comenzó con una cena informal y un beso frente a la puerta de tu casa. No empezó tarde una noche después de haber bebido demasiado. Me gané mi lugar. Me tomé mi tiempo. Retiré cada capa. Cuando pensé que había llegado al final me di cuenta de que no estaba cerca. Seguí adelante. Y ahora aquí estamos. Estoy en algún lugar en el medio, demasiado adentro para dar marcha atrás, sin saber si tengo suficiente tiempo en esta tierra para aprender todo lo que quiero saber.
Mi dominio no es algo que uso para controlarte. El día que cualquier tarea que te dé se sienta como una tarea será el último día que te dé una tarea. Quiero que sonrías mientras planificas tu noche en torno a lo que te han dicho. Te quiero chorreando cuando vayas a la tienda. “De camino a casa, recoge tres velas. Busca unas largas destinadas a candelabros. Necesito dos rojas y una blanca. Y no, no puedes preguntarme para qué son”.
Se trata de una conexión que solo otra persona pervertida podría entender. Tu servicio es tu expresión de devoción. Las tareas que te pongo son mi manera de asegurarme de que sepas que necesito poseerte. No estás controlada por mis demandas. Mis reglas no te restringen. Te han liberado. "Quitate la ropa. Acuéstese boca arriba. Dobla tus manos sobre tu estómago. Suelta tu cuerpo para que pueda mover fácilmente cada una de tus extremidades.
Después de que te vendé los ojos; después de que te haya atado, debe pasar por tu mente. ¿Te preguntas si siempre ha sido así? Cuando escuchas el sonido del mechero, ¿estás preguntando "¿Cuándo me perdí en su control?" Sientes mi calor rodeándote. Mi dominio gotea sobre ti como la cera caliente que cae de una vela encendida. Se endurece en tu piel y se vuelve parte de ti. Sin ella, el mundo parece gris. Lo único que pido es que tu sumisión crezca. Quiero que tu devoción se expanda. Cuando creas que has llegado tan profundo como puedes, sabrás que hay mucho más por desbloquear. Esto que hemos construido juntos no tiene un punto final. O seguimos construyendo sobre lo que ya hemos creado o eventualmente colapsará.
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Xena Coffee Shop A/U Idea
So Gabrielle works in coffee shop, maybe Starbucks, but more likely a smaller more niche store that is soft and quiet with big squishy couches where all the regulars know and love her. She’s exhausted from managing the place without being an official manager (or maybe she is idk) but she smiles often and the place remains busy despite a Starbucks having moved in just around the block because (although she would absolutely deny this) the patrons look forward to her positivity and advice. But people know not to mess with her or try to cause trouble for her or any of her fellow employees because although she is sweet she’ll kick you out if you even THINK about being rude to any of the employees.
Xena founded a karate/jujitsu/something hybrid gym SOMETHING where her primary focus is helping people (in particular, women or marginalized people who feel weak or unsafe or feel incapable of protecting themselves), but she doesn’t turn away people if they come to her for the right reasons. She hosts daily fighting lessons using different techniques (jujitsu, weapons, hand to hand, p much everything) and had reached an almost legendary status to those who have come to her in their time of need. It is well known in many circles that Xena used to the be the head of a....gang? Crime syndicate? Mob? I’m not sure, but something HUGE and something that made her a lot of money and a LOT of enemies before she left the life for good. I kind of like the idea of her being some kind of crime boss for some huge underground syndicate because that gives some room for some kidnappings and crazy stuff but also that’s hot as hell.
Joxer DEFINITELY becomes an employee by simple virtue of being in the store so much and bugging her so much that he may as well be being paid for it (but also he is...surprisingly good at creating new roasts and making cool new drinks so why not). He thinks he’s suave (like Ares) but deep down knows he’s not.
Ares is the obnoxious rude ass businessman who treads the line of being banned from the store but is accepted only because he buys ENORMOUS amounts of their coffee for his meetings or whatever. He’s buff as hell and has reflexes that put a cat to shame. I’m not sure if he’s officially into martial arts but he knows a lot of things from a lot of places. OH MAYBE HE IS LIKE BIG BOSS OF CRIME SYNDICATE THAT HAD BEEN PARTNERED WITH XENA’S IDK.
Ephiny is a student of Xena’s; she’s amazing but struggles with trusting partners after the loss of her husband (Phantes). Her son is just getting to the point of toddling and she already has him INVOLVED with Xena as much as is physically possible. She also works with Gabrielle in the coffee shop and is the eventual link that brings Gab and Xena together.
Callisto was Xena’s top student and top pain in the ass until the loss of her family. She now trains at a “rival” dojo. She’s constantly proclaiming herself better than Xena and trying to take Xena down a notch or two despite the fact that that’s not how any of this works. She lost her mom and sister in a fire and blames Xena (she was 8 or 9 and a student at Xena’s dojo; Xena took her home one evening with nobody came to pick her up after practice. she tried to run into the burning building but it was too far gone. she claims Xena kept her from saving her family but deep down thinks that if she hadn’t been at practice she might have been able to save them). She will probably have some kind of redemption arc because I feel bad for her even though she is irredeemable (from what I’ve seen so far in the show).
Perdicus worked at the coffee shop but left to figure out how he could win Gabby’s heart (they grew up together and he’s loved her since he knew what love was but she’s always been...unsure). He’s gonna be in the thing as like...some kind of friend at the very least because Callisto did him dirty in the show and I liked him.
Iolus and Hercules MAY run the “rival” gym. “Rival” continues to be in quotes because although everyone in the town sees them (Xena and Herc) as rivals, they have nothing but respect for one another. Herc is in love with Xena (she thought she loved him too..once.) and Iolus THINKS he’s in love with Xena and then thinks he loves Gabby but realizes he loves Hercules; this may be a uniting factor for Xena and Gabby as they work to try and help Iolus overcome his insecurities and confess his feelings to Hercules (who will be startled but is bi as hell and will be really excited because he thought Iolus was SUPER into Gabby/straight as could be).
Autolycus is an art thief a la Cary Grant in Psych. He has a lot of money but lives relatively modestly and donate a fair amount to charities and to Gabby’s coffee shop, all under a pseudonym of course because it could never get out that he secretly wants to be Robin Hood more than anything in the world. Perhaps at some point the coffee shop has gone broke (maybe Krykus runs the shop and he’s an asshole who doesn’t care and ends up stealing a ton of money and running off into the night?????) and Autolycus (and Xena) band together to purchase the shop and put it to Gabby’s name (which upsets Gabby at first until she realizes that they were helped by the ENTIRE STAFF and a lot of the loyal customers because they love her and they love the changes she’s made to the shop).
I’m thinking...maybe one night, late, after Gabby had to stay to do inventory and order stock, she’s mugged. They have a gun and although she’s willing to give them what’s in her wallet, she fights back when they threaten to physically assault her and she ends up punched a few times. Now, depending on how dark I want this to be...she’s either beat up BAD and ends up joining the gym after Ephiny finds her and takes her to the hospital and demands she take better care of herself....but more likely (because it’s HOTTER), Gabby is saved by Xena, who had also been at her gym late doing an inventory and stock of the small pre-packaged bars and shakes she sells or something, important because maybe Gabby will start providing some kind of healthy snack as a thank you to Xena??? Anyway, Xena busts in after Gabby’s beat up and saves the damn day. Now!!! Either Xena falls in love INSTANTLY but keeps it way down because that’s who she is, or she simply thinks Gabby is cute (’m not decided) and is delighted at first when she sees Gabby show up to her gym. Gabby is enraged and frustrated that she wasn’t able to protect herself and Xena shows her how to redirect and channel her anger away from doing harm and into protecting herself.
This will EVENTUALLY and ultimately be a Xena x Gabby fic but I think it’s gonna take a while for Gabby to get there. When she realizes she loves Xena it will hit her like a sack of bricks and she won’t be able to breathe for a few moments as she takes in the woman who has become her best friend in the entire world and realizes that she absolutely loves her.
And that’s more writing or thinking about writing than I’ve done in eons but I wanted to get it down somewhere.
#xena fic idea#xena warrior princess#xena x gabrielle FOREVER#writing ideas for sometime when I actually think I can write#if anyone is even vaguely interested lemme know!#sometimes encouragement goes a long way with me
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the best day with you
Part of this verse!
Dean taps Claire on the shoulder. “You got plans for this weekend?”
Claire twists on their couch to see him and sets aside her laptop. With narrowed eyes full of suspicion, she grabs the remote and mutes Dr. Sexy. “Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
Dean rolls his eyes. This is why he became a teacher. To help teenagers. Not to strangle them for sassing him to his face. Sure, Claire might be a sophomore in college now, and she’s not really a teenager anymore, but Dean’s never going to see her as anything but an angsty junior in high school. Especially if she keeps up the this attitude. Dean says, as evenly as he can, “Because I want to do something with you.”
Claire grimaces. “Really? Don’t you have other boring old man friends to do things with? Like, for instance, your boyfriend?”
“No,” Dean says. “Cas is going to visit Gabriel in LA this week.”
“And you chose to stay behind with me instead?” Claire says, her eyebrows rising to her hairline.
“Yes.”
“Are you dying?”
“What?” Dean gapes. “No!”
Claire squints at him. “Are you hoping I can score drugs for you?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “I can get my own drugs, thanks. It’s one of the perks of being a real live adult.”
“Do you need money?”
“If I did,” Dean starts incredulously, “why would I ask a broke college student?”
“I don’t know,” Claire says with a shrug. “Dementia? That kicks in about now for you, right?”
Dean’s mouth falls open. “I’m barely thirty-four!”
Claire shrugs. “Alzheimers?”
“That’s a kind of dementia,” Dean tells her flatly. He runs a hand down his face. “Look, are you free or not, kid?”
Dean is pretty sure she doesn’t have plans, judging by the way she’s religiously camped out on their couch for the past two weeks straight. She's abandoned her spot only to go to the bathroom, eat meals, and, on one memorable occasion, visit her parents for Sunday dinner. The living room her space now - which is fine with him, Dean’s been doing his summer school grading at the kitchen table. Along with her computer, Claire’s got the coding handbook Charlie Frankenstien-ed for her out of a bunch of different documents, probably all downloaded and printed illegally. On the television, she cycles through daytime soaps and CW evening dramas.
Claire grins. “On Saturday or something? Yeah.”
He rolls his eyes. “Was that so hard?”
“No, but it was fun.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a handful?” Dean says as he turns to head back into the kitchen. Lunch wasn’t going to make itself, and Cas was due back any minute from his errands.
“Just my parents, every day from age thirteen to eighteen,” Claire says casually as she reaches for the remote to resume Dr. Sexy.
Dean freezes. “Hey,” he starts, not really sure where he’s going with this.
“What?” Claire snaps as if annoyed, but her face is guarded.
“Your parents were asshats, you know that?” Dean says. “They shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“Yeah, well, you know what they say about family,” Claire mutters as she turns up Dr. Sexy.
In the middle of her junior year of high school, Claire moved in with Cas for about six months.
Early in the year, she had an explosive argument with her parents about transferring from their preferred private school to Edlund High. She also came out to them.
Dean has the sneaking suspicion Claire doesn’t think she had it that bad. Her parents didn’t hit her. They didn’t kick her out. They didn’t even stop giving her her allowance. But they didn’t talk to her for days on end. They ignored her until she needed something from them, or the other way around. By Christmas, Claire had had enough. She left.
Back then, Dean told Claire her parents were in the wrong as many times as she would let him - which wasn’t many.
Cas took the lead with her, instead. She was his family. He found her a therapist and encouraged her to make friends at Edlund. Dean didn’t really feel like it was his place. She was Cas’s niece, and Dean was the guy who stayed over a couple times a week when she was crashing there too. And then he became her teacher when the transfer to Edlund became official. Still, she wouldn’t consider him family.
“My uncle always said, ‘family don’t end in blood,’” Dean tells her seriously.
Claire slumps back on the couch. “Right,” she says dully.
Dean takes a step back, rubbing his neck as he swallows down his next few words. He’s not about to give a heartfelt lecture on family and healthy boundaries to someone who’s going to grumble and groan through it. He jerks his head towards the kitchen. “I’ll get started on-”
Claire interrupts, “But that’s not grammatically correct. Aren’t you an English teacher? Who gave you a license to teach?”
Dean snorts. “Just think about it, will you?”
“Uh huh,” Claire waves him off. “If you’re going to the kitchen, can you make me a sandwich?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. Cas finished off the strawberry jelly while he was grading essays last night, so you’re gonna have to settle for grape.”
Claire makes a face but nods. Dean’s almost at the kitchen door when she asks, “Your uncle, was he really your uncle?”
Dean shakes his head. “Not by blood. He was a good friend of my dad’s. But he was as good as family - better than, sometimes.” He swallows. Bobby’s been gone two years now. Dean had thought the grief when his dad passed was bad, but it was a whole other beast with Bobby.
Claire squints at him, looking so much like Cas Dean can’t help the warm feeling in his chest. “This is your show, right?” she asks out of the blue, gesturing to the television.
Dean blinks. “Yeah?”
And that’s how Cas finds them ten minutes later, eating PB&Js on the couch, watching Dr. Sexy - with Claire skewering every characterization and costume choice, and Dean defending Dr. Sexy’s cowboy boots with his life.
* * *
“Minigolf, really?” Claire asks as they pull into the parking lot on a bright Saturday afternoon. The early-summer temperatures are already high enough to make Dean sweat in the Impala, and Claire’s shorts could double as bikini bottoms, they’re so small.
She adds, “You realize I have a fake ID and we could probably go to a bar or something.”
“One,” Dean says as he slams the car door shut, “minigolf is a classic American pastime. Much better for your liver than drinking. And B, don’t ever tell Cas about that fake.”
Claire clambers out of the car. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Just making sure,” Dean says airily as he starts walking. He holds out his hand as she jobs to catch up to him. “Lemme see it.”
“Why?” she asks suspiciously as she digs for her wallet in her purse and fishes the ID out.
“Nice job,” Dean says as he holds it up to the sunlight shining overhead. “Ash?”
Claire stops short, surprised. “What?”
“Did Ash do this one?” Dean asks. “Come on,” he tells her as he nudges her shoulder to keep her moving out of the middle of the parking lot. “Nobody else does ‘em this good.”
“How do you know that?” Claire demands.
Dean laughs. “I told you I can get my own drugs.”
“Ash deals too?” Claire asks, looking hopeful.
Dean leans over to ruffle her hair. “His dope is a little out of your price range, squirt.”
“Hey!” Claire squawks as she tries to smooth everything back into place. “And nobody calls it ‘dope’ any more, you doof.”
Dean grins. “Yeah, I know.”
They enter the main building and get in line to rent the putters. It smells strongly of sunblock and worn down parental patience. A few parents wait ahead of them, all older than Dean with kids younger than Claire. A group of high schoolers are inspecting a row of putters on display on the far wall. Through the windows to the back, Dean can see a splendid display of mostly-intact astroturf and course obstacles with sun-faded paint.
The guy behind the counter is wearing an obnoxiously bright shirt and smile. “Hiya,” he says cheerily as they step up to the counter, “I’m Garth, welcome!”
“Two adults please,” Claire says quickly, like she knows Dean was going to ask for a kid’s ticket to mess with her.
“You got it,” Garth says as he bends down to grab two putters. “The bathrooms are by Hole 7, and if you want to grab lunch across the way at Fenris’s Diner, show them your receipt and you’ll get 15% off.”
Dean steps forward with his wallet. “Do you know if they have pie?”
Garth smiles wider, showing even more teeth, which Dean didn’t think was possible. “You bet! The best darn cherry pie I’ve ever tasted.”
“Awesome,” he says. “Thanks, man.”
“Thank you!” Garth says as he rings them up. “And good luck on the course!”
* * *
Dean is uncomfortably sweaty by Hole 2, and Claire piles her hair on top of her head in a messy bun to cool off her neck halfway through Hole 4.
“Swing batter, batter, swing!” Dean shouts from right behind her as she hits the ball at Hole 6.
Claire glares at him as her ball knocks against the windmill blade and skips off to the side. “That’s for baseball, idiot.”
“But you still missed,” Dean points out as he sidles up to tee. “So does it really matter? Hey!” She kicks him in the ankle as he strikes at the ball. “You cheater,” he gasps dramatically.
“So what?” Claire asks, putter swinging ominously at her side, “You gonna tell on me?”
Dean frowns. “No, but I won't buy you any pie when this is all over.” He keeps his eyes peeled for an opportunity to mess with her as she takes another stab at the windmill.
“Fine with me. I like cake better.”
Dean raises his head to gape at her. “Seriously?”
Claire throws him a funny look. “Does it matter?”
Dean’s mouth works furiously. “You ate the last slice of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving two years ago.”
Claire’s eyebrows climb to her hairline as she leans against the windmill and watches him take another stab at it. “You remember that?”
Dean hardly watches where his ball goes. “Of course I do.”
Jimmy and Amelia had elected to have Thanksgiving at Cas’s mother’s place. Cas, whose frosty relationship with his mother wasn’t helped by her dismissive attitude towards Claire, hosted a separate Thanksgiving at the (then) new house he shared with Dean. Sam and Jess flew in from California, and Claire was, of course, invited too. They were having a fucking blast, until Claire stole the last slice of pie right out from under Dean’s nose.
Claire snickers under her breath. “You’re so weird.”
Dean glares. “I called dibs.”
“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, McMurphy,” Claire says, the liar. She crouches to get a better look at the windmill.
Dean tries to suppress his smile. “Was that a One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest reference?”
Claire rolls her eyes. “I paid attention in your class, you know. Even if you gave me an A-minus.”
Dean grins. “But you got a 5 on the AP Exam.”
Claire does a little jig as her ball falls into the hole.
* * *
“What the fuck?” Dean howls as his ball stops just short of Hole 9. Parents chaperoning a group of five kids at Hole 10 glare daggers at him.
Claire laughs uproariously. “Sucks to suck, old man.”
“Hey!” Dean glowers as she sinks a hole in one.
“What’s that?” Claire holds her putter up in victory. “Did you see that? Did that go in the hole? I wasn’t watching. Did the ball go in the hole?”
“Shut up, kid,” Dean grumbles as Claire smirks. “It wasn’t funny the first time.” He concentrates on his next shot. God help him if he fucks up with his ball barely half a foot from the hole.
One of the toddlers at Hole 10 lets out an ear-splitting shriek, and Dean’s ball skips off in the direction of Hole 13.
Claire doubles over laughing.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles as he sidesteps her to go fetch it, “Like you would’ve done any better.”
“I just did. Or did you miss my hole in one?” Claire asks from right behind him.
“I’m hungry,” Dean declares.
“Okay…?” Claire squints at him.
Dean nods to a hotdog stand by Hole 14. “Whaddya say to a dog?”
“Mystery meat at a roadside attraction that hasn’t been renovated since ‘97? Sign me up,” Claire says sarcastically.
Dean claps her on the back, just a shade too hard. “That’s the spirit.”
She stumbles but doesn't fall - exactly Dean’s plan - and glares at him. “If I get E. coli, it’s your fault.”
Once hotdogs are in hand, they sit and eat on a worn bench that’s more chipped paint than bench, facing a dinky little fountain. A few pennies glint dully from at bottom, almost obscured by the bright midday sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water.
“So,” Claire says after she takes her first bite. “You wanna tell me what this is all about?”
“What?”
“This whole distant dad trying to reconnect with his kid routine,” Claire says.
“I - I’m not your dad,” Dean stutters, face heating.
“Duh. Dad was more of Church retreat guy.” She leans back on the bench, stretching out her legs, and tilts her face up to catch more sun. “I would’ve had a better time if there was no singing and 100% more hitting things.”
Dean asks haltingly, “So you don’t think this is weird?”
“What hanging out with you?” Claire asks, her smile guileless. “I heard elder enrichment is important to prevent cognitive decline, so I’m just doing my duty.” She laughs at his disappointed frown. “Relax. This has been… great.”
“Really?”
Claire finishes off her hotdog and balls up the aluminum foil wrapper. “Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Dean gets up to put her trash and his in the garbage and manages to stow his broad smile before he gets back.
* * *
“Hole in one!” Dean crows at Hole 15.
“Do you want a gold star?” Claire snarks as she tees up.
“Shut up.”
Claire swings, and they both watch as her ball deftly navigates around the bumps and turns to sink neatly into the hole.
Dean’s smile falls off his face as Claire jumps around in victory. “Lucky shot,” he tells her as they troop to Hole 16.
“Uh huh,” Claire says. “And that makes, what seven lucky shots for me? And how many holes in one have you had?”
At the next hole, they have to wait for the large family ahead of them to finish up.
“Oh my god,” Claire mutters as one of the parents demonstrates how to properly swing the putter for the youngest child, “it’s minigolf. Not the Olympics.”
“I know, right?” Dean says in an undertone. “Who cares how she hits the ball? If she wants to bowl it down the course, let her.”
“Seriously, who gives a fuck?”
“I bet she’s gonna scream before they’re done with the lesson.”
“What?”
“Water works in 5… 4… 3…”
They wait with bated breath as, sure enough, the child sits down in the middle of the course and wails. She refuses to even touch the putter.
“How did you know that was gonna happen?” Claire asks as the family moves on. She eyes him critically. “High schoolers aren’t the tantrum type.”
“Shows what you know,” Dean snorts. No matter the point of spending today with Claire, he wasn’t about to tell her how he became an expert in toddler care. Christ, he can still remember the sticky feeling of Sammy’s vomit all over his front when he cried so hard he puked. Dean’s crime? Telling Sammy his favorite blanket needed to be washed. Dean hadn’t even taken it away yet.
Dean tells Claire instead, “I’ve seen more meltdowns over bad essay grades than I’d like. And it’s not like I can say, well, you should have read the damn book, Ava.”
“You wouldn’t say something like that,” Claire says as she bends down to set up her ball.
“Of course not,” Dean rolls his eyes, “that makes it worse.”
Claire straightens. “No, I’m saying, you would probably ask her why she didn’t have the time to read the book; if she’s tried the audiobook instead; if you should talk to Mr. Lafitte for her since she spent too long on Algebra and didn’t get to your homework.” She shrugs, meeting his eyes briefly. “You would do something like that.”
Dean blinks because she’s got him exactly right. He’s a firm believer that there’s no such thing as a lazy student. There are unmotivated students; there are students with undiagnosed ADHD or dyslexia; and there are anxious and/or depressed students. Hell, there are students with side-jobs, bills to pay, and little brothers to look after.
“Yeah,” he agrees, discomfited. Claire was his student for one year, but her presence in class was kind of eclipsed by her rocky home life. In senior year, she was back with her parents, but she also caught up regularly with Cas. In class, she faded into the background - Kaia’s blonde shadow. Cas’s stories provided Dean with more insight than any discussion on The Plot Against America ever did.
“All the seniors loved you,” Claire says. “Max Banes would’ve slept with you if he could.”
Dean hits his ball right into the mini sand pit. “What?”
Claire smirks. “You didn’t know?”
“No!”
“Uncle Cas was right, you are oblivious,” Claire says as she whacks her ball straight into the hole.
“Hey,” Dean says, but the protest is weak. “Cas wasn’t much better.”
Claire grins. “No one’s arguing that.” She waits until Dean’s mid-swing to say, “Max would’ve slept with Uncle Cas too - which, gross.”
“Dammit, Claire!”
* * *
“Okay,” Claire says as they walk away from Hole 18. “I’m gonna need to sit in AC for at least forty-five minutes.”
They’ve been out in the sun for nearly two hours now. Dean pulls his damp shirt away from his stomach with a grimace. “You down for pie?”
“Sure,” Claire says gratefully as they leave minigolf behind them.
In the diner, the air conditioning hits them like a bucket of cold water to the face. Claire throws herself into the first both they see as Dean troops off to relieve himself in the bathroom. He checks his phone - one grumpy text from Cas about Gabriel’s inappropriate choice of swimwear for a hotel pool - and exits with a smile on his face.
Back at the booth, Claire is twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger, smiling coyly up at the waitress from lowered lashes. But Claire's inviting expression flips off like a switch as Dean drops down into the opposite seat.
The waitress’ own sunny smile takes on a distinctly plastic sheen at his arrival. “Hello!” she chirps as Dean picks up the menu. “Is there anything I can get you besides water?”
“Can I get a coke?” Dean asks the waitress - Maggie, according to her nametag. She’s tall, probably taller than Claire, and dark-haired. She seems around Claire's own age, so Dean would bet she’s only working here as a summer job.
Claire is still glaring daggers at him, so Dean asks, partly to be a dick, “And what’re you getting, Claire?”
“Water,” she says through gritted teeth.
“A coke and a water, please,” Dean says cheerfully to Maggie.
She bobs a nod and casts a lingering look at Claire. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”
Claire kicks him under the table as she disappears into the kitchen. “You couldn’t have waited another five minutes?” she hisses “I was just about to get her number.”
Dean grins. “My bad.”
“Now she thinks I’m here with my dad or something.” Claire crosses her arms across her chest.
Dean rolls his eyes. “You call me an old man, but I’m, what, twelve years older than you? We’re more likely to be on a date.”
Claire’s flat-out horrified face is enough to make Dean’s week. He’s still laughing as Maggie makes a return, one water and one Coca Cola in tow.
“So what can I get you both?” Maggie asks as she reaches for her pad and pen.
“One slice of cherry pie, thanks,” Dean says brightly.
“Nothing for me,” Claire mumbles.
Maggie looks from Claire to Dean and back again. “One cherry pie,” she confirms slowly. “Should I bring out two forks?”
Over Dean’s fresh bout of laughter, Claire says loudly, “We’re not together!”
Maggie blinks a few times, and Dean can’t tell if she’s more shocked by his reaction or Claire’s. “Okay.”
As she leaves, Claire buries her head in her hands. Her voice is muffled by her hands and hair, but Dean can make out, “This is all your fault.”
“How?” Dean asks as he sucks on his straw. “It’s not my fault if you’ve got no game, kid.”
Claire slumps onto the table. “I used to.”
“Stalking doesn't count as ‘game’ or else Cas and me would have gotten together way before we did,” Dean says sagely.
Still face-down on the table, Claire flips him the bird.
“Have you spoken to Kaia lately?”
Claire doesn’t move for a long moment. When she finally raises her head, her expression is pinched. “Not since Spring Break last year. She was doing good, I guess.”
Awkwardly, Dean says, “It’s okay if you’re still hung up on her.”
Claire waves his assurances away. “It’s been a whole fucking year."
Dean sighs. “These things can take time. You were with her while a lot was going on in your life, and she was there for you through all of it. Just ’cause you're young doesn’t mean it meant less. But if you want to move on, sometimes you don’t have to wait until you’re 100% ready.”
“Thanks, Senpai.”
Maggie approaches carrying a large slice of cherry pie.
“Here you go,” Maggie says as she sets the plate down. “Anything else I can get you?”
“Nothing for me,” Dean butts in before Claire can get a word in edgewise, “But Claire, here, would like your number.”
Maggie goes bright red.
“Dean,” Claire hisses, completely mortified. “What the fuck?” She turns to Maggie. “Forget what he said. He’s a moron who doesn't know what he’s talking about.”
Maggie glances to Dean before settling back on Claire. “So… you don’t want it?”
Claire splutters, “I - no - yes, but not if-” She takes a breath, clearly trying to compose herself. “Yes, I would like your number. But not because he said so.”
“You don’t have to decide now.” Dean fishes out his wallet and takes out a five. “It won’t affect your tip,” he says with a wink as he shoves the bill under the napkin dispenser.
Maggie bites her lip. “I’ll think about it.”
Once Maggie’s left, Claire leans over the table and punches Dean, hard, in the arm. “Oh my god, are you actually braindead?”
“Hey, watch the pie!” Dean yanks his plate closer, out of Claire’s line of fire.
“What on earth possessed you to do that?” Claire demands.
Dean eyes his pie, planning his perfect plan of attack. “You needed a push in the right direction.”
Claire’s eyes flash. “I don’t need your help.”
“Tough luck, because you got it anyway,” Dean says with a shrug as portions off his first bite. “You’re only here for the summer. You don’t have the time to pine from across the softball field for a whole season.”
Claire frowns, saying warily, “I know Maggie isn’t Kaia.”
Dean points his fork, dripping with pie filling at her face. “So you gotta try a new strategy.”
“How?”
“Well, get yourself a capable wingman, for starters,” Dean says around his next bite of pie.
“Who? You?” Claire asks incredulously.
“Probably not,” Dean says, shuddering at the thought. He’d intervened with Maggie because was fucking funny as hell to see Claire get Cas-levels of awkward, but scoping out any more romantic prospects for Claire makes him feel sleazy. “I’m more of a pinch hitter.”
“What?”
“You really didn’t pay attention to a single softball game, did you?” Dean says, almost impressed.
Claire glares.
“They’re the guys called in last minute to fill in for a batter,” Dean says. He shovels the last bit of pie into his mouth, saying, “Did you keep in touch with Krissy?”
Claire shakes her head. “They were all Kaia’s friends first, so…”
“She got them in the divorce?” Dean says sympathetically.
Claire nods, her expression darkening.
“I know she’s back home for the summer too, taking care of her dad,” Dean says. “I bet she could use someone to hang with - if you ever get bored coding from our couch. Data entry for Charlie can’t be that exciting. Don’t tell her I said that.”
Claire rolls her eyes. “You don’t need to set up playdates for me, Dean.”
Dean shrugs. “Suit yourself. But none of Krissy’s other friends are back home - Josephine’s abroad, and the rest of ‘em are staying in their college towns.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Dean nods. That’s probably as good as he’ll ever get with Claire - she’s not the type to gratefully accept help. She’s more likely to complain to his face while going behind his back and doing it anyway. Which, fine, if it gets Claire out of their apartment and out of her funk.
On their way out, Maggie leaves her number on their receipt.
* * *
Claire slams the Impala door shut and relaxes in the passenger seat. “Well that was fun,” she says sarcastically as Dean twists around to pull out of the parking lot without mowing down an unfortunate 1999 Toyota Camry. “Let’s do that again soon.”
“Really?” Dean asks. At her blank stare, he adds, “I never know with you. Did you really have a good time?”
She fiddles with her seatbelt, biting her lip. “I won’t say this again, so cherish this moment: today was not the worst day I’ve ever had.” She huffs out a long breath. “It was almost fun, if you forget that shit in the diner.”
Dean laughs. “I’ll take it, I guess.” He taps his fingers against the wheel as he waits for an opening in traffic to merge onto the highway. “I’m glad.”
“Me too,” Claire mutters, so low he can barely hear her.
Dean lets the noise of the road take over for a few minutes: the reassuring rattling of the toy soldiers in the back air vent; his baby’s engine purring like a dream; the low ambient hum of her tires carrying them across miles of pavement.
Once he’s as calm as he’s gonna get, he says, “I have a question for you.”
Claire shoots him a look. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
Dean shouldn’t have bothered asking. She really is incapable of being anything other than a teenager.
“I’m thinking of asking Cas to marry me,” Dean says quickly. As Claire absorbs his words, his heart kicks up to double-time, hammering away in his chest. “Would you be okay with that?”
“Why are you asking me?” Her eyebrows are drawn together in that same furrow that Cas always has whenever a student stumps him with a question.
“Because you’re his family.” He’s honestly surprised he has to say this part out loud.
“Shouldn’t you be asking Grandmother instead?” Claire asks.
Dean shakes his head. “Cas doesn’t care about her opinion - or Jimmy’s.”
Claire takes another long moment to think that over. “So… are you, what, asking my permission?”
“Yep.”
“To marry my uncle.”
Dean shoots her a look. “I really don’t think the concept is that hard to understand.” Claire’s a smart kid. She’s probably drawing it out on purpose.
“Yeah, but -” Claire breaks off, “It’s weird, though.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “You literally called me a weird old man yesterday.”
“But… not this weird.”
“It’s a yes or no question, Claire,” Dean reminds her testily.
Claire waves him off. “I mean, yes, obviously, but what the hell?” Her eyes narrow, accusatory. “Is this why you made me do this weird bonding thing with you today?”
“I -” Dean stutters. “I didn’t make you-”
“It is!” Claire crows. “Were you thinking about it for all 18 holes?”
“No,” Dean says shortly.
“I don’t believe you.” Claire grins. “Were you nervous?”
“No.”
“Yeah, I’m calling BS again. You gotta work on that poker face.” She sits back in her seat, her smugness practically radiating off her in waves.
Dean has the strangest urge to hug her.
Claire lets her hair fall over her face as she picks at her nails. “Just so you know,” she starts in an undertone, “I know it was you who convinced Uncle Cas to take me in. Back in high school.”
“Cas wanted to be there for you,” Dean says quickly, “He just didn’t know how. Honestly,” he says with a laugh, “Cas was scared he’d piss you off more, and then where would you go?”
“Really?” Claire asks, surprised.
Dean nods. “The guy is a great teacher, but he’s not great with kids if there isn’t a desk between them, you know? He's been working on it, though. Having you around taught him a lot.”
“That makes sense,” Claire says, almost to herself. “Anyway, I’ve only really known Uncle Cas while you were together. It’d be more weird if you didn’t get married.”
Dean doesn’t bother turning on the turn signal as he pulls over to the side of the road.
“What the-?” Claire starts, twisting in her seat to look out the window. “Why’d you - oof.”
Dean wraps his arms around her, squeezing tightly.
“Ugh,” she groans, “You smell.” But she hugs him back anyway.
#fanfic#supernatural fanfic#profoundnet#offscreen destiel#established destiel#claire novak#dean winchester#snark#banter#so much snark and banter#destiel fanfic#destiel#the story of us verse#rae writes fic
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Recently Del & I have been discussing actor Louis in his life when he weighs 80 pounds over his original weight that he started with in chubby actor, so, I decided to write it for her :)
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Setting: Christmas time in LA, the weather is still warm and hot, Harry is preparing for christmas with lots of christmas treats, decorations, a new holiday line of clothing.
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The weather in LA around Christmas was always a blessing to Harry and Louis, who never really enjoyed the cold and snow of the east coast when they lived there for a few short years at the beginning of their relationship. Even with Christmas two weeks away, the sun was shining and the weather was warm, the boys took every moment they could to soak up the sun poolside in their private garden where they had decorated the surrounding bushes to resemble Christmas trees.
They had a record player on their patio beside the pool spinning side A of ABBA’s Voulez Vous, Clifford and their new cat Doris lounging in the yard with Louis who had just stepped out to get some sun, while Harry was pouring mimosas for the both of them as he waited for their eggs to finish before joining his family outside.
Just as “I Have A Dream” was fading out on the record, Harry was stepping over Doris to set up the table for breakfast outside in the sun, when he spun around to find Louis setting his boxers on the ground by his lounge chair.
“Louis! It’s 11 in the morning!” Harry chastised, though he wasn’t too serious as he chuckled at his husband’s nudity.
“Okay and? We were just naked in bed about an hour ago, not like we’ve spent a whole day in suits. Besides”, Louis pat his rounded belly, “I can’t have any tan lines, this entire tummy needs some color” he finished as he raised his arms above his head to lay back in the lounge chair.
“Well, the tanning can wait, I just finished breakfast baby come eat.” Harry went to reach for the utensils he brought out to set them by both of their plates, adjusting Clifford and Doris’ food trays under the table side by side.
“Harrryyyyyyyy I just laid down, can’t you bring it over here?” Louis giggled as he lowered his sunglasses over his eyes. He really loved to push his luck these days with Harry, finding that he and his husband both loved the bratty side of him.
“You can get your ass over here and I’ll sit in your lap and feed you” Harry said with a smirk, “gotta make sure my husband gets some type of exercise, even if it’s just to walk to more food.”
“Hey! I do, I’ve been working out with you!” Louis huffed back as he stood up and walked toward the chairs to take a seat, leaving his boxers behind.
“Yes yes, I know, and I’m thankful for your company, even if you only walk for an hour and a half and then head straight to the kitchen.” Harry chuckled as he took a seat on Louis’ right leg, pulling a plate of eggs with heavily buttered toast and bacon in front of them.
“Doctors order you know, said as long as I did a little bit of cardio everything else was looking healthy.” Louis smirked as Harry raised a piece of bacon to the older boy’s soft pink lips.
“Yes, I would say so.” Harry smiled as Louis chewed, hand reaching to grab under his belly to jiggle it in agreement.
When Louis decided to take an extended break from his acting career, focusing on helping charities and spending more time at home with his husband and pets, he knew exactly what he was getting himself into. He was tired of living a life of restriction, both in his personal life of never getting to spend enough time with his family, but also in his dietary, and even sex life.
Ever since that movie role where he had to put on those 30 pounds, Louis was craving this time to really let go and let Harry take care of him. Let himself gain as much weight as his body wanted.
So he did, during this extended break (which had only started about a year and a half ago) Louis had steadily crept up to gaining 80 more pounds on his once dainty and toned frame. Harry, of course, helping him the entire way.
The beginning of the process this time was nothing like the original. Louis having the knowledge that this was a big kink for them used that to his advantage, almost like he needed it to survive. The day his break started, he came home from the press conference of the announcement of his acting hiatus to find an entire table full of his favorite recipes Harry hadn’t made since that movie shoot, demanding that it all be gone by the end of the day.
That’s how the first few months of this break went, Harry practically stuffing Louis at least three times a week, Louis walking around aimlessly eating anything he could find to fill his ever hungry belly. He had years to catch up on food wise, and he wasn’t going to miss a single morsel if he could help it.
As the months went by, he hit each milestone in Harry’s ever loving company, Harry weighing him every two weeks instead of every two days just so they could focus on Louis’ happiness over some type of number goal. Over the months, his belly slowly swelled forward, even when he wasn’t stuffed to the gills now his stomach looked like it could belong to a pregnant woman. His thighs once again found each other, his chest became a soft plain for kisses, and his collarbones disappeared once more. Louis would sit in front of their master bedroom mirror and just admire his curves, running his hands along his soft body to familiarize himself with every inch, every stretch mark that Harry would press soft kisses to. He would run his hands along his belly finally being able to really know his reflection without having to worry about it needing to change for his career anytime soon.
Milestones were set for Louis to achieve by Harry, like outgrowing gucci belts, stretching out fitted t shirts, even popping open a few tom ford button downs. When he busted open the trousers he had worn to his last movie premiere during a particularly difficult stuffing, Louis didn’t think Harry was ever going to catch his breath as the older boy cradled his packed belly trying to get any relief. That was a fun night for both of them.
“What do you think baby? Do you want anything else?” Harry asked, jolting Louis from his memories, gently tracing his pointer finger in circles around the blue eyed boys belly button.
Louis’ belly wasn’t anywhere near full, but it sat content and rounded out in his lap, Harry’s soft hand pushing reality into him. He was so lucky, so happy to be here now with Harry.
“I think i’m good right now baby, thank you so much.” Louis lent over and kissed his husband, his belly bumping into Harry who basically melted at the contact.
“Are you sure? I’m sure there’s room for a little more in here.” Harry lent down to kiss the crest of Louis’ stomach.
“I’m good, really, but you said you were…..making christmas cookies today right? Trying out some new recipes or something about it?” Louis smiled shyly, hoping Harry would get the hint.
“Oh yeah I am, I completely forgot. I have to find the perfect recipe to bring to my parents house!” Harry’s dimples were on display as he thought about his parents around the christmas tree.
“I was thinking, if you need help finding the recipe, I could be your tester? I’m dying for something sweet.” Louis kissed Harry on the cheek.
“I’m sure that could be arranged, you’ll have to fill out an application though” Harry chuckled
“An application? Who else would you have do it?” Louis pulled back from leaving kitten kisses on Harry’s neck.
“Well, you’re going to have to fight Clifford of course for the job.”
----
The day went on as it usually did in the Tomlinson- Styles home. After Louis laid out in the sun for a while lounger, he made his way back to the kitchen for some snacks before lunch. Still refusing to put on his boxers, Harry rubbed his lower belly as Louis reached for the box of cheez its in the overhead cupboard.
“You know, as much as I love seeing your ass, what if someone comes over? Do you have something against clothes now?” Harry said, continuing to run his hand along the underside of Louis’ stomach, feeling it’s heaviness in his hand when he gently pressed into it.
“Clothes are restricting and, honestly all of my boxers are getting a little uncomfortable.” Louis said as he pulled the box down and began opening it.
“Louis….did we not just buy you those? What, a month ago?” Harry’s cheeks began to flush as he squeezed Louis’ stomach lightly. There’s no way - this boy had to have plateaued by now. They’ve been taking it relatively easy with their stuffings and really just enjoying themselves lately.
“Yeah, I mean, a month is a long time...and I’m still hungry like all the time.” Louis blushed, “it’s...it’s really not that surprising, is it?”
Harry wasn’t really sure what to do with this information as he pulled Louis closer to him. “Well...how do your jeans feel and your other new clothes? Do you feel like I have to take them out yet?” Harry had been taking out Louis’ clothes when they would buy new ones, just until Louis felt he really couldn’t wear them anymore. After all, the boy had gone up a good few sizes, and they didn’t want to have to buy a new set of clothing for each one.
“Yeah I mean, everything could be a bit looser, but nothing I can’t handle, I guess my body still wants to gain a bit more.” Louis bent over to kiss Harry’s cheek.
“I….I’m gonna start baking the Christmas cookies.” Harry blurted. He knew exactly what they were going to do today.
After pressing his lips to his husbands once more and lightly smacking his ever soft behind, he shooed him out of the kitchen so that he could get to work.
“And please, put your pants on Louis!”
———
A few hours had passed and Harry had an array of cookies spread along their dining room table. There were ginger snaps, chocolate chip, sugar cookie, pepper cookies, even an assortment of chocolate and red velvet cake pops Harry had wanted to try out because he thought they would be cute once decorated.
Another two trays were still baking in the over when Louis brought his dishes from lunch into the kitchen to wash them.
Louis didn’t realize Harry was baking enough to feed all of Los Angeles today, “Babe?” Yelled Louis, trying to see where Harry was in their house as he wasn’t in the kitchen.
Harry rounded the corner with Doris in his arms, “hey baby, how was your lunch?” He pecked Louis on the lips, letting him scratch at Doris’ ear. Their animals always loved Louis so much, it made Harry’s heart so happy.
“It was really good babe, thank you.” Louis continued scratching Doris’ chin, “But what is all this? Are you trying to feed the entire city?” Louis chuckled, not thinking much of it.
Harry’s face flushed as he set Doris down, “I was actually thinking….we could maybe have some fun?” He pulled Louis closer to him, belly pressed up against his abs making his insides flip and roll with want.
“Fun you say?” Louis smirked, maybe he wasn’t as oblivious to what he thought was coming next.
“How about...you go take a seat at the table, and I’ll get some tinsel yeah? How does that sound cutie pie?” Harry nuzzled his nose against Louis with a smile on his flushed face.
“Fuck YES, okay okay I’ll go.” Louis said excited with a smile.
“And Louis?” Harry stopped before grabbing his husband's arm.
“Will you go put on that lace bodysuit for me?” Harry smiled softly.
Louis ran up the stairs as fast as he could to pull the soft lace along his body. He had a few different lace pieces that Harry had hand sewn for him to wear because he liked them so much. A few had to be retired because he could no longer pull them above his thighs and bum, this one not too far behind as it stretched against the curve of his belly. Louis tied up the sides, as there were ribbons connecting them tied up in cross cross patterns.
Louis made his way downstairs to find candles lit and all the blinds shut to mimic the darkness of the night sky, the Christmas lights on their tree turned on to set the mood.
Harry stood in the center of the dining room with a string of tinsel in his hands, stripped down to just his boxers and undershirt.
Louis was breathless at the scene with excitement, “we really are a kinky bunch for doing this in the middle of the day” Louis said as he made his way to Harry, slipping his arms around the younger boys tiny waist.
“You know Harry, you could stand to put on a few too” Louis giggled, poking Harry right in the stomach.
“Honestly, I was thinking about that earlier today.” Harry said with a smile as he lent down to press a kiss to Louis’ lips.
“Wait, really? The fittest fashion designer in Hollywood?” Louis pulled back with surprise.
“I mean….we only live once don’t we? Maybe I’m a little tired of being so LA fit all the time. I don’t know, we’ll talk about it later.” Harry said lifting the tinsel, “why don’t you pick a spot for me to tie up these pretty hands, hmm?”
“Can we do this on the couch? Put a nice movie on, relax?” Louis said, “a….little bit of mindless eating?” His cheeks flushed, and a hunger was beginning to burn in him for this scene to get started.
“Of course baby, you go put a movie on you like, and I’ll get the cookies ready for you.” Harry pecked him on the cheek, leaving Louis to sit on the couch and open Netflix.
When Harry came back over Louis was all set up comfy against the couch cushions ready to be manhandled.
“Give me your wrists baby.” Harry said sweetly, tying the small hands behind Louis’ back. “There we go, now if you get uncomfortable you tell me okay?” Harry kissed down Louis’ chest as he nodded in agreement.
Harry began lifting cookies to Louis’ thin soft lips, who munched happily on each different kind and flavor Harry baked up. It was almost routine, Louis would take bites of the cookie, Harry would pat his belly, survey the lace tie up on the sides, and Louis would be onto the next few cookies.
It was around his 10th or 11th treat he was starting to feel a little constrained in the bodysuit, his belly pressing up against the lace, the sides tugging tightly against his skin as he took deep breaths in between each treat. He wasn’t near full yet, just a little….well, tied up.
It wasn’t until Louis took a breather after the 17th cookie, which happened to be gingerbread, that Louis felt something rip on his side.
“Knew this one wasn’t gonna last much longer.” Louis grunted out as he took a thankful deep breath, his stomach expanding with new found room.
Harry was on him in seconds, rubbing Louis’ tummy in big gentle circles, pressing down here and there to hear Louis make a little noise of discomfort or pleasure depending on where the spot was.
“You look so good like this Loubear.” Harry was breathless watching this scene play out, his dick straining in his boxers watching Louis shamelessly eat all of these treats, his belly swelling forward to find room for everything he was trying to cram in it.
“You’re really too sweet.” Louis smiled softly and closed his eyes for a moment, a soft burp making its way out that Louis was grateful for.
“I bet you belly is starting to feel a little full, huh baby boy? You’re doing so good for me” Harry pecked his cheek, “can’t believe you were this hungry.”
Louis wasn’t really full yet, so he decided to press Harry’s buttons, “Still am baby, not full yet” Louis smiled wide using his head to point to the cookie tray, “The gingerbread are really good, can I have another?” Louis locked eyes with Harry and Harry thought he might combust then and there.
“Of course baby, anything for my big boy.” Harry pressed the gingerbread to Louis' mouth, Louis making a show of biting off a piece and chewing it slowly.
“Won’t be able to finish all these if you eat that slow baby, your tummy’ll catch up to you.” Harry said softly as he gripped underneath Louis’ stomach giving it a small squeeze, running his hand down further to rest it on top of Louis’ hardening cock.
They continued on as Louis zoned out on the movie, getting up to about the 25th cookie when he had to readjust his sitting position to make room.
“Can you untie my hands baby? Wanna lay back to make more room.” Louis said sweetly, Harry setting the cookie they were working on down to relieve Louis’ hands of their constraints.
“There we go, thank you.” Louis said as he brought his own hands to his rounded stomach, the tie on the other side of the bodysuit barely staying with the pressure it was being put against.
“Anything for you baby.” Harry brought the cookie back to Louis’ mouth, eager to watch him finish this tray at least.
Louis positioned himself so he was laying with his upper body propped up against the armrest of their couch, Harry hovering over top of his with his legs straddling Louis’ thighs as he continued to feed him treat after treat. He would duck down occasionally to kiss at Louis’ laced covered skin, or move his legs up so his thighs were pressing against both sides of the other boys belly, earning a soft huff or grunt from Louis as more pressure was added to his already packed tight stomach.
By the time the boys got to the last cookie, Louis was finally ready to call it.
“Last one baby, I’m so proud of you, look at how good you did.” Harry said as he raised the final pepper cookie to Louis’ lips.
“Thank god” Louis said softly as he took the cookie in his mouth, chewing it slowly before swallowing. He brought his hands up and rested them on top of his belly that was now swollen and firm, 30 or so cookies stuffed inside of him.
“How does my baby boy feel? Hmm? Your belly feels,” Harry pressed down softly, “a little tight, you must be uncomfortable.” He pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ lips, earning a soft smile and Louis’ huffing out a breath once their lips were parted.
“shame I don’t wanna move right now cause I really, really want you to fuck me Harry.” Louis’ eyes were dark when he opened them, his left hand trailing as far as he could to find his cock, but his swollen belly was in the way of him reaching it.
“Mmmmm, I can fix that baby, you just relax for a few minutes okay. Look at you, my big beautiful husband. This belly is just,” Harry pulled the tie on the other side that had miraculously not come undone, “so precious, don’t you think? Remember when you used to be so small and thin, we never had this much fun.” Harry then untied the halter holding the bodysuit up around Louis’ neck, pulling the fabric down. “You always have been handsome but this? This is so…..sexy.” Harry’s mouth was basically watering as he finally got his hands on Louis’ soft, stretched skin. Stretch marks were subtly visible sitting along Louis’ plush hips from the weight he had gained so quickly months ago, something Harry took a lot of pride in.
“Harrrryyyyyyy” Louis whined as Harry pressed a soft hand against Louis’ very hard cock. “Please I….I can’t.” Louis huffed out.
“Tell me about it, sweetheart, tell me all about it.” Harry egged him on as he pulled the body suit off of Louis, past his belly, his bum, dragging it down his legs and throwing it on the floor narrowly missing a candle or two. With his belly now free, Louis took as deep a breath as he could manage and ran his hands along his skin, Harry’s joining them by running up and down his soft sides.
“I am so lucky.” Harry said as he leaned down for an absolute bruising kiss with his very full boy. His thigh brushed against Louis’ dick, making the older boy moan into his mouth as the contact.
“Want me to take care of you? Know you can’t do it yourself, not right now with this in your way huh?” Harry teased, lightly smacking the side of Louis’ stomach.
“Stop. Teasing. I’m…..very hard and very full. Need you. now.” Louis huffed up before he went to nip at Harry’s lower lip.
Harry’s hand trailed down to Louis’ hard member earning another moan from the boy, he reached under the couch where he had stashed the bottle of lube for this scene in particular.
“Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.” Harry whispered as he spread the lube onto his palms, one hand softly tugging at his husband's dick and the other hand going to his rim. This was one of Harry’s favorite things, watching Louis absolutely lose it while stuffed to the brim. He knew Louis got some type of high from being stuffed, adding to that Harry pounding into him? Louis turned into a right mess as the joined sensations.
2 fingers in and Louis’ began squirming beginning for more, his own hands laying softly on his belly. “h..Harry, please, more.” Louis panted out, not sure whether to chase the feeling of Harry’s hand softly rubbing his dick or the now 3 fingers in his bum.
It continued on like this for a few minutes, Louis rubbing his own belly through the process to try and get some relief from the pressure packed in there, a soft whining echoing through the house as Harry gave him what he needed with his fingers.
“Harry, I’m ready, I’m ready now.” Louis grunted out, “get on with it please.”
“Okay baby, gonna be gentle, don’t wanna hurt you or your tummy.” Harry pressed a kiss to the stretched skin before him, Louis now laying flat on the couch as his belly rounded out like a mountain of sorts on top of the older boy.
Harry slowly entered Louis, inch by inch, Louis was right gagging for him to bottom out as fast as he could and knew Harry was only being gentle, but he needed this as bad as he needed to be stuffed. There was something about being controlled in such a way by Harry that couldn’t compare to anything else.
“Harry.” Louis said, eyes shut tight when his husband finally bottomed out, “fucking move.”
At that Harry began his venture of picking up pace as he moved in and out of Louis, trying to be as gentle as possible considering Louis’ state. Every time Harry would jostle the blue eyed boy's belly, Louis would whine a little more at the feeling, grabbing at his belly to steady himself. That and him panting from not doing any of the work besides taking him so well was making Harry feel hot all over.
“Harry I, I’m gonna come…..please, pleasepleasepleaseplease can I come.” Louis’ voice raised higher and higher with each please rushed out of him, his back arching for what it could with the weight of his stomach holding him down.
Harry laid a hand on Louis’ belly as his other hand gripped onto the arm rest for more support as he thrust in harder, making sure he kept contact on his boys prostate.
“Of course baby boy, come whenever you can.” Harry said before a particularly hard thrust in as he watched Louis’ eyes roll back in pleasure as his orgasm crashed into him.
“HARRY, I fuckingcantbelievei” Louis’ jumbled swear words were shouted through the house as Harry worked Louis’ through his orgasm, chasing his own release. It wasn’t hard when he watched Louis reach down and grip his own belly with two hands as he panted and squirmed under him from the pleasure, Harry’s orgasm rushed through him upon seeing the sight.
Making sure he didn’t fall on top of the stuffed boy underneath him, he collapsed to the side of Louis, a panting mess himself after the show he had just watched his husband put on.
“Louis you….” Harry reached his hand over to turn Louis’ mouth to his, kissing him, “are so hot what the fuck.” He finished as he rested a hand on top of Louis’ belly, drawing soft circles with his fingers.
“Yeah, but” Louis went in for another kiss, sighing into the younger boy's mouth when he caught his tongue, “you, you’re so beautiful Harry. How did I get so lucky all those years ago.”
Both boys laid there for what felt like forever wrapped in each other’s arms sharing lazy kisses waiting for their heart rates to return to normal. Harry loved the feeling of Louis’ belly pressed up against his own, the blue eyed boys head tucked under his chin as he raked his fingers through the chestnut hair.
“Jesus Christ, Merry early Christmas huh”
#hi Del I sent this while you were probably having dinner with your family so it would be a surprise#this is just sin#submission#chubby 1d#chubby actor#isn't brit amazing!!!#enjoy y'all
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Devotions - WWDITS Fanfic - Nandor x Guillermo
Sequel to: Maybe One Day, My Love
WWDITS Masterlist
A/N: Quick note to let you guys know that I have been writing up a storm, but I’ve posted many fics exclusively to AO3. It is just so much work to format every story for Tumblr. AO3 is such a superior place to read and write. So, check that out to see what you’ve missed. Thanks to @sinaesthete for beta reading this fic for me!
Summary: Following a death in the family, Guillermo goes to the park for his weekly "visit" with his ex-master. After two decades of distance and one-sided conversation, Nandor finally steps out of the shadows.
Warnings: Smut, Religious References, Parent Death
---
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.” -Mary Oliver, Wild Geese
It’s nightfall once again.
Guillermo de la Cruz clutches a prayer card in his fist as he strides down the familiar path for the appointment he never misses. Not even tonight.
Puddles dot the paved lane; he carefully avoids them, not wishing to ruin his patent leather shoes. He’s still dressed in the clothes he wore to the funeral: a dark suit and tie that make him look somehow older and younger at the same time. Like a little boy dressed up in his father’s clothes. His rigid soles scuff against the cement. The scraping sound grounds him in time and place, pulling him back from the vision of the gleaming white casket heaped with flowers.
It’s early spring. The night is still chilly, but the park has begun to transform with the new season. Green shoots of grass peek out between moldy fallen leaves. Crocuses emerge in the flower beds that line the walk. The branches hanging overhead are heavy with verdant leaves whispering in the light breeze. Guillermo breathes in the damp, mildewy scent of new growth. Idly, he wonders if the funeral arrangements have started to wilt.
He rounds the well-known turn in the path, finally arriving at his forgotten little alcove with its dilapidated bench. The wooden slats of the seat give way to his weight as he sits; the wood is soft and worn. He recalls the hard, polished church pews and decides that this is a much more suitable place for worship. The laminated prayer card bites into the tender flesh of his palm and he releases it, taking his hands from his pockets and letting them rest on the well-loved bench.
Night sounds fill his ears: crickets murmuring in the grass, distant traffic rushing on the highway, gentle wind blowing through the trees. No matter how carefully he listens, holding his breath and keeping perfectly still, Guillermo will never hear his master’s approach until Nandor wishes it. Instead he begins his vigil, communing with the night, with this place, the setting for his devotions.
“Let us pray...
I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever live and believe in me shall never die.”
The priest’s words float back to him as if conjured by the night wind. Guillermo’s thoughts fix upon his lord. The one he’s worshiped since he was nineteen-years-old. He calls up Nandor’s image with ease, despite the years that have passed since actually seeing the vampire. Dark eyes ringed in fire, bottomless pits into which Guillermo has been falling for the last thirty-seven years. A body as cold and lethal as a winter’s night. Fangs that reap bloody sacrifices from his victims. Guillermo closes his eyes and Nandor is there before him--skin warm in the candlelight, lips relaxed in a rare smile, holding out his hand and beckoning Guillermo to come forward. In his vision, Nandor places his palm on the crest of Guillermo’s head in a blessing.
“Blessed are those who mourn,
For they will be comforted.”
The snap of a twig announces him. Guillermo eyes snap open; he stares straight ahead into the trees on the other side of the nook. He senses Nandor in the darkness behind him, a guardian or a devil. Both. But he doesn’t turn to look, though every fiber of his being is attuned to his master’s cold presence; though he longs to lunge at him and hold him and never let him leave this place. That is not their arrangement.
Just this once, though, he wishes it could be different.
Guillermo tries to speak; tries to perform their ritual as usual. But the words stick in his throat, congealing into a heavy lump that suffocates him. A shaky breath passes through his parted lips and becomes a sob. Suddenly there are tears spilling down his cheeks. He reaches into his pocket, removes the prayer card with Silvia de la Cruz’s beautiful portrait on it, and sets it on the seat beside him.
“She… died,” he explains in a shattered whisper, scrubbing furiously at his eyes with his fists. “Mi mam á . She’s gone, Nandor.”
For an instant the rest of the words stick in his throat: Guillermo’s not supposed to address him directly. That’s not part of their ritual. Now Nandor will leave; now he’ll never come back. But the grief soon scours away the fear of breaking their rules and Guillermo collapses down to his elbows, hanging his head and sobbing out his heartache and pain.
“It happened so s-suddenly, Nandor. I didn’t get to say good-bye or tell her I’m sorry.”
Guillermo crosses his arms over his chest, hugging and rocking himself in a pitiful attempt to self-soothe. His sinuses are blocked; his face is flushed; his mouth tastes like bile and communion wafers and his t í a’s buñuelos. He’s desperate to get a hold himself, to salvage this evening somehow, but every time he nearly has the crying controlled his mind supplies him with a new torture. The stricken look on his amá’s face when he left home to work for Nandor. The smell of eggs and fresh tortillas in the morning. The sound of her clambering in the kitchen, cursing under breath. Her smile. Her hugs. The way she took him in, without questions, when he came back home covered in blood and hysterical after a decade of being a bad son.
Guillermo is so lost in memories, he almost misses the soft, hesitant touch on his shoulder. A hand--solid, strong, cold--closes around his shoulder and squeezes gently. Their first touch in twenty-six years. Guillermo’s breath stutters from his lungs. He freezes, terrified of breaking the fragile sanctity of this moment. He wavers on the threshold of action. Before he can summon the courage to cross it himself , Nandor does so for him. The vampire’s hands are suddenly clutching, pawing at his shoulders and chest; clawed fingers dig into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket and haul him over the bench. He’s dragged through the spider-riddled bush and then all at once he’s in his master’s embrace. As if it hasn’t been decades since the last and first time they held each other. As if a whole lifetime of experience--sadness, joy, yearning, hope--hasn’t slipped through Guillermo’s mortal fingers.
Nandor wraps Guillermo up in his cape, the rich fabric and gold embroidery are clean and well-maintained. Guillermo finds himself wondering if Nandor has himself a new familiar, quickly deciding he doesn’t want to know. He buries his face in Nandor’s strong, broad chest and breathes him in. He smells like rose water, argan oil, and Tide To-Go Pens. He smells like warm candle wax and brassy, spilled blood. He smells like dust and animal pelts and frozen decay. He smells like home.
“And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.”
Guillermo never really left him, did he? Two decades spent building a human life, and with one simple embrace he is back on Staten Island, a nineteen-year-old boy knocking on a pagan god’s front door and offering himself in sacrifice.
“Nandor,” he cries. It’s a plea, a demand, a tribute, a prayer. Once the name falls from his lips he can’t stop. “Nandor. Nandor. Nandor. Nandor. Nandor. Nan--”
The vampire shushes him, bringing his hand up to cradle Guillermo’s head against his chest. That voice, rich and deep, rumbles through the fabric of the leather vest and into Guillermo’s tear-streaked cheek. “I am sorry, my Guillermo. Your mama… she was a good lady. She took care of you, kept you safe and happy after…” he trails off, clearing his throat uncomfortably. His arms tighten around Guillermo. “I am so very sorry.”
Guillermo clings to him, hands fisting in the cape, tugging at the material until Nandor is forced to stoop down. Guillermo closes his eyes, terrified of opening them to find that this is all a dream. Some kind of religious vision that will dissipate in a cloud of smoke if he breaks the spell. Nandor’s face is so close, he can feel the vampire’s cool breath on his cheeks. Guillermo presses forward, nuzzling his face into the whiskers of Nandor’s beard, gasping at the soft caress of long hair against his face.
“Is this real?” Guillermo whispers; his words are fragile, like moth’s wings fluttering through the air between them. “Master, is it really you?”
“Who else would it be, Guillermo?” Nandor chides in the same old amused tone that Guillermo has preserved in his heart like dried flower petals between the pages of the family bible. “Who else but me? It’s always me, Guillermo.”
Thumbs wipe away the salty, stinging tears from Guillermo’s cheeks and the human huffs out a sound that’s a laugh, a sob and a cry of joy all at once.
“It’s always you, master,” he agrees and seconds later he feels the cool, miraculous brush of Nandor’s lips on his.
“Almighty God, cleanse my heart and my lips that I may worthily proclaim your Gospel.”
Guillermo’s eyes fly open. Dark hair and pale, luminous skin fill his vision. Arms--powerful, undeniable--wrap around his soft little human form. He melts into Nandor, all the strength in his limbs bleeding away until the vampire’s strong grip is the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees. He’s resplendent, overjoyed to give himself up to the predatory angel before him.
The grief--a hollow, aching hole in his chest--is still there. But with it is a new sensation, at once well-known and utterly novel: ecstasy, fulfillment, completion. To be united with Nandor finally, after decades of pining, feels unreal and yet meant to be. It’s everything he’s dreamed of and denied dreaming of for so long.
Nandor’s lips slide against his own, cool to the touch yet soft and welcoming. Nothing like the hard and forbidding marble he’d always imagined. Nandor’s mouth is pliant and giving; it’s not unlike kissing a mortal man… as if Nandor isn’t the untouchable celestial being of his dark dreams, but flesh and--yes--blood. Guillermo flicks out his tongue and traces his master’s full, pouting lower lip. Nandor opens his mouth at once, granting him the entry he seeks. How can this be happening? After a lifetime of longing and supplication?
“Guillermo,” Nandor says his name like a plea, his lips brushing, the syllables melting into their kiss. “My Guillermo. You’re mine, still, aren’t you? Will you be mine?”
Guillermo mouth molds to his master’s. Nandor’s beard drags against the soft skin of his chin and cheeks. He pulls himself away long enough to answer. “Yes, Nandor. I’m still yours. If you’ll still be mine. Oh, God , please tell me you’re mine, Nandor!”
God. For the first time in eight centuries, Nandor feels no pain at the holy word. Instead it dribbles from Guillermo’s lips, melting into their kiss and tasting like sweet honey. Yes, he thinks, finally allowing his hands to roam down his human supplicant’s body. Yes, I am your god, little mortal. And you are mine.
The words spark in the night air, a spell that will keep them safe so long as they don’t stop touching. “I’m yours, Guillermo. Forever.”
They tumble to the earth, a tangle of grasping limbs, rolling hips and desperate, longing kisses. Nandor breaks their fall, landing in the dewy grass with a soft grunt and clutching Guillermo to his chest with reverent care. Guillermo is alight with sensation. Prayers fall from his lips, holy words that once would have sent his master hissing and flinching, but which now seem to feed him.
“Nandor, my god!” He pulses his pelvis with every repetition of the name. “God, I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
Love . A word that should bring Nandor as much pain as the other and yet… Guillermo’s heartache, his abandon, his devotion have unlocked something inside of him. He lets himself free. His hands clench Guillermo’s backside and squeeze; he grinds their pelvises together in fervent desperation. Guillermo settles heavily on his chest, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s soft hair and raining kisses on his face.
“You will give yourself to me, won’t you?” Nandor whispers, an edge of uncertainty in his voice. “Finally?”
The weight of ecstasy and sorrow on Guillermo’s soul leaves no room for the exasperation that he should rightfully feel at those words. As if Guillermo has not given himself to Nandor every day for his entire adult life. As if he wouldn’t have gladly killed to be in this position decades before. But here, in this holy place, in the communion of their bodies and souls, Guillermo doesn’t scoff. He presses a gentle, wet, lingering kiss to Nandor’s lips before answering.
“You already have me, Master.”
“ Take this... and eat of it, for this is my Body, which will be given up for you.”
They lay Nandor’s cape out on the grass like a blanket. It’s almost completely dark in the shadowy undergrowth, but Guillermo still blushes as he shrugs off his suit coat and begins unbuttoning his shirt, aware of the vampire’s heightened senses. The darkness presses up against Guillermo’s eyeballs; he strains to see merely the faintest outline of Nandor’s powerful frame. His face is a dark blur except for his eyes. Nandor’s predator eyes drink in every bit of ambient light and reflect it back at Guillermo. They glow. Hallowed, fiery rings in the night.
Guillermo is no longer a virgin. He feels a small, pitiful pang at the knowledge that he can’t give Nandor that part of himself. He’s slept with a few men over the years. But he’s never truly offered himself to any of them like he’s doing now. Guillermo takes off his shirt, his undershirt. He toes off his shoes and socks and undoes his belt. It’s cold and the cape is starting to absorb the dew and chill from the solid earth beneath, but he doesn’t shiver as he removes his pants and underwear. He lays on his back, nude, flushed, panting and achingly hard. He doesn’t feel the icy wind that raises goosebumps on his arms and hardens the pink tips of his nipples to little nubs. He is a sacrifice; an offering; a tribute. The cold can’t touch him now. Not with the fire of his lord’s eyes keeping him warm.
Nandor’s hands paint ribbons of freezing flame on his skin. They brush lightly, teasingly across his belly, his chest, his thighs. The vampire drapes himself over Guillermo and the human realizes that he’s also undressed. They both gasp as their rigid, leaking erections bump against each other. Guillermo bucks his hips in uncontrolled desire and he feels Nandor sink his fingers into the ample flesh of his thighs to hold him still. A huff of breathy amusement falls from the vampire’s lips. He grabs Guillermo up in another passionate kiss, nipping and licking his lips. A keening, vulnerable moan bubbles up from the vampire’s throat. He clutches Guillermo’s tender body against his cold,, cadaverous frame. Tears--frigid and laced with blood-- fall down his cheeks and mingle with Guillermo’s.
“Guillermo!” Nandor gasps, pulling back. His hands trace patterns on the pulsing hot skin of Guillermo’s neck. The human waits and listens to his master’s labored breathing. A plea hangs in the air between them. “Will you give me this as well, Guillermo? Your blood?”
“With faith in your love and mercy I eat your Body and drink your Blood.”
For the first time, Guillermo wonders if Nandor comes here every week with the intention of offering worship just as he does.
“Take it, Nandor,” he commands. His voice is strong, unwavering, loud in the solitude of their secluded grove. He reaches up blindly and takes Nandor’s face between his hands, guiding him down to the cradle of his neck until the vampire’s cool lips press against his skin. “Drink.”
Nandor whispers something against Guillermo’s neck before biting down. The words are an unintelligible susurrous. He recognizes them as Al Quolanudarese. And though he’s incapable of parsing them, they feel like secret magic words. Words that finally pulverize the last brick in the wall between them. Guillermo knows their meaning in his bones, in his heart, in his soul.
Nandor’s fangs pierce and bruise. His bite is brutal and honest. This is Nandor; no hiding, no subterfuge. He is violence and blood and frozen kisses. He is also the tender stroking of fingers along Guillermo’s tear-stained cheeks and the broken sob he makes an instant before the blood begins to flow. Guillermo’s eyes flutter shut and he fists his hands in the cape beneath him. Take me, take me, take me , he begs.
Blood and body.
He buries his hands in Nandor’s hair, cupping the crown of his head as nonsense prayers fall from his lips. He invokes every sacred symbol he knows. Nandor’s mouth; his tongue; his hands; his cock. The bedroom under the stairs. The candlelit crypt. The parking lot at the immigration office. The blood-stained robe from Celeste’s orgy. The ancestry reports. Wooden stakes and crucifixes. The claw-foot bathtub. Nandor’s hair oils. His coffin. Bubble gum and mason jars and flashcards and feather dusters and boot polish and ice chips and a portrait made from glitter: two men, impossibly hopeful, naive and in love.
When Nandor finally retracts his fangs from Guillermo’s neck, he laps at the spilled blood, kissing the soft, torn skin with a grateful, remorseful, worshipful reverence.
“My Guillermo,” he cries over and over again, rocking his hips subconsciously and panting as their cocks slide against one another. When he draws up on his elbows Guillermo can see his blood marring those perfectly cruel lips and staining his full beard. His voice is thick with tears. “Your blood, Guillermo. It’s…”
Guillermo nods, wiping Nandor’s cheeks even as his own tears fall into his hairline. “I know, Nandor. You’re mine now. Always.”
The vampire bows his head, pressing his lips to Guillermo’s soft chest directly over his rapidly beating heart. “Your blood is rushing, Guillermo. So eager to give me your life.”
Guillermo sighs, running his hands down the length of Nandor’s sides, squeezing his soft flanks and raising his hips to grind against him.
“And what are you eager to give me, Nandor?”
Nandor brings his hand up to Guillermo’s neck and catches the blood that still flows there. He hovers over Guillermo, balancing on one elbow as he moves his other hand between them and slides his wet, bloody fingers into the cleft of Guillermo’s backside. Guillermo feels the slick of his lifeblood against his sensitive skin as Nandor’s fingers probe and press into his entrance. A shiver wracks his frame at the utter indecency, the absolute sacrilege.
“Fuck,” Guillermo hisses as the first finger breaches the tight ring of muscle and enters him. “God! Nandor, yes.”
Nandor whimpers in gratitude at his human’s praise. He speaks absently, in the grips of religious ecstasy, “Let me show you, Guillermo. Please, let me show you.”
Guillermo writhes and nods his head, arching his back as another finger joins the first. “Show me you love me, Nandor. Show me you fucking worship me.”
A strangled growl fills the little grove and Nandor picks up the pace of his thrusting fingers, subtly rocking his erection against the tender skin of Guillermo’s thigh as he goes. His breath mingles with Guillermo’s as he leans in and presses their lips together in a slow, aching kiss. He inserts a third finger, stretching Guillermo out and swallowing the man’s groan.
“Now, Nandor,” an echo of desperation and sorrow tinges his voice. Nandor scrambles to comply. He removes his fingers, kneeling between Guillermo’s spread legs and placing shaking hands on the insides of his generous thighs, steadying himself.
Nandor doesn’t speak, but the sound of his breathing might as well be a love letter. He’s panting, there’s a hitch in his breath, a tremor in his fingers. Guillermo feels the tip of him against his hole and he nearly sobs with relief and joy and loss and guilt and exasperation. Why now? After all these years? Why on the night of his mother’s funeral when he is ragged and raw? Why couldn’t they have had this when Guillermo was still young and so pitifully in love with Nandor that he was willing to tarnish his soul for the vampire’s convenience? He thinks these things with regret, with melancholy longing and wistfulness; but never with anger.
This is his Nandor and Guillermo will take him and cherish him until he is buried in the ground. Nandor presses forward, entering him inch by inch. Stars burst in Guillermo’s eyes and amidst the furious physical sensations, a feverish thought flits through his head. When Guillermo is dead he wants to be buried in this very spot, in the soil beneath their naked bodies, on the site of their long-delayed consummation. The idea should repulse him, or sadden him, but instead it just feels right. He pictures Nandor visiting his grave every Sunday for the rest of the time and cants his hips, taking the vampire deeper as the blood trickles from his neck and his cock smears precum onto his belly.
Their bodies move together in a rhythm that’s both familiar and wonderfully new. They cling, claw, grab and stroke. Nandor’s length fills Guillermo; the vampire’s fingers wrap around Guillermo’s rigid cock and pump him as he thrusts. The words that fall from their lips are a heady, nonsensical, sacred blend of Spanish, Al Quolanudarese and English. Love is only the beginning. This is yearning, devotion, allegiance, becoming, undoing, transforming. Nandor is god is Guillermo is Nandor. They are whole for the first time in their lives.
The climax takes them both at the same time. Guillermo sobs, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as Nandor roars above him. Nandor spills his plentiful vampiric seed inside of him as Guillermo’s cum shoots out in hot ropes that paint his and Nandor’s bellies. He lets his softening cock fall from Guillermo’s body as he collapses down, pillowing his head on Guillermo’s chest and gasping for air that he doesn’t need. Guillermo cards his fingers through his hair and weeps.
He’s crying for the boy he once was. The one who loved his amá and wanted to make her proud. The boy who fell in love with a demon. The boy who dreamed and hoped and prayed and was disappointed. He’s crying for Nandor, too, who has lived for centuries without ever allowing himself to acknowledge the soft animal of his own emotions. And he’s crying for his amá, whose heart he broke for a decade and who never, ever stopped believing in him even when he came home at the age of 30, jobless, soulless, and ruined.
Nandor nuzzles his cheek against Guillermo’s sparsely-haired chest, pressing kisses into his sweat-slick skin and tracing patterns over his stomach with long, elegant fingers.
“I can hear your heartbeat, Guillermo,” he whispers. “Did you know I could always hear your heartbeat? It’s not usual. I mean, yes, of course vampires have super hearing, but we learn to tune all that out, you know? But never with you, my Guillermo. I listened to every beat of your little heart for eleven years. I was so afraid one day it would stop…”
In the soft, sacred dark Guillermo can finally ask the question, “Then why didn’t you ever turn me? You could’ve had me forever, immortal. Why, Nandor?”
Nandor sits up and his eyes glow as he looks down at Guillermo, a frown in his voice, “I didn’t want it to stop, Guillermo. I didn’t want to be the one to...make it stop.”
Guillermo shuts his eyes and they are quiet for a long, long time. He holds Nandor in his arms. The chill of the night air finally affects him and he shivers once. Nandor grabs the edge of the cape and pulls it over Guillermo to shield him. They lay beside each other, touching, breathing, listening. Guillermo traces the outline of Nandor’s lips, letting his finger dip inside his mouth and feeling the sharp edge of his fangs. Nandor allows it. Of course he does. He could not deny Guillermo anything. Not in this place. Not anywhere else, either. The knowledge settles in his veins, flows through him like Guillermo’s blood.
“Guillermo,” Nandor begins, drawing out the last syllable like he used to. “It is not too late…”
It’s a statement and a question. Guillermo holds his breath, waiting for the vampire to elaborate, but Nandor remains silent. A moment later he feels Nandor’s cold skin pressed to his lips. There’s warmth there, too, borrowed from his body. He tastes blood as Nandor presses his wrist firmly to Guillermo’s mouth.
“It’s not too late,” he repeats.
“May this mingling of the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, bring eternal life to us who receive it.”
#wwdits fanfic#nandor x guillermo#nandermo#guillermo x nandor#guillermo de la cruz#nandor the relentless#smut#what we do in the shadows#what we do in the shadows fanfic
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Hey Amelia, I was wondering if you could write an adult Reddie fluff fic. Don’t care what it’s about, maybe about Eddie’s ‘allergies’ or ‘asthma’ and Richie does something cute or whatever. I just love your writing, thanks ❤️
Eeee sorry this took a while but hopefully the fluff makes up for it :P It’s probably a little different than you expected but I think you’ll like it.
Richie probably should have suspected this. If he was a smarter man he would have. But in his post- Derrywise (trademarked, thank you very much) life Richie had decided to stop overthinking things and just act. He hadn’t been thinking when he confessed his feelings to Eddie while the man laid immobile in the hospital, telling him in one long breath that he was utterly in love with him and that it was fine that Eddie didn’t feel the same but Richie just needed him to fucking know because he’d loved him for decades and fuck, that clown had nearly taken all of them out and well shit if he didn’t say it now when was he ever going to?
Yea, that had worked out okay. Eddie had only looked shocked for a minute before he demanded that Richie fucking man up and kiss him.
That had been nearly a year ago. A year of change, stress and more happiness than either of them knew what to do with. Eddie had had a relatively speedy divorce- it seemed that Myra didn’t really want to be with him either, thank fuck- then he’d moved in with Richie. Things were good, great even. They had even gotten a fucking dog they were so domestic.
Richie was stupid in love. Everything that he’d wanted at thirteen was coming true and he would do anything he could to keep Eddie happy. That was why, when Eddie had mentioned that he’d never been camping, Richie had immediately gone out to buy everything they needed and cleared their schedule to go rough it in the woods.
(Okay fine, he’d sent his assistant out to buy it and book them a spot but what was the point of having people if you didn’t abuse it every now and then?)
Now though, Richie was regretting it. Deeply. First off setting up a tent was hard fucking work and then they had to cook dinner over a fire that they started? It was bullshit. Neither of them were cut out for this life. Richie was used to LA, with its smog and pretentiousness, and Eddie was used to NY, with constant traffic and irked people.
Those issues paled in comparison to the current crisis though.
“Eds breath, please, you need to breath.”
“No Richie! That���s probably poison ivy and that- that’s fucking poison oak and that- that’s pollen and it’s all going into my mouth and I’m breathing it and swallowing it and-” Eddie fanned his hands frantically in front of him, too deep in his own head to think straight.
“Eds!” Richie grabbed his shoulders, forcing his boyfriend to look at him. It took Eddie a minute, his eyes scanning around wildly before finally landing on Richie.
“Breath. In.” Richie took a deep breath in, holding it until Eddie mimicked him. “Out. Focus on me. Nothing else. Not the bugs or the dirt or-”
“Not helping.” Eddie gritted out.
“Right. Anyway. Me, focus on me. Just me. Look deep into my sexy eyes and forget about everything else.” Eddie snorted but followed Richie as he started breathing again.
They did this for a few minutes, until Eddie had finally relaxed. Richie watched as the tension drained from his shoulders and the panic left his eyes. “Sorry I- shit, it’s been a while since I’ve had a panic attack like that. I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the bugs and plants and-”
Richie pulled him in, hugging him before Eddie could work himself up again. “We’ve been through worse Eds, I can handle a panic attack.”
Against him Eddie nodded. Richie felt him shift so his cheek was pressed to Richie’s chest. He always said that hearing Richie’s heart helped him calm down, reminded him that they were both alive. Richie called him a dork but he secretly felt exactly the same.
They stayed like that for several minutes until Eddie pulled back. “Okay- okay what about that hike?”
“Are you up for it?” Richie asked, a little skeptical given Eddie’s very recent freak out.
He nodded firmly. “I am, let’s do it.”
Eddie was, in fact, not up for it. But then, neither was Richie. Twenty minutes later both were huffing and sweaty. “I need a break - and new lungs.” Richie said, falling onto an overturned log. Eddie sat next to him and Richie heard faint wheezing that he was trying to conceal.
“Do you need-” He stopped. Eddie didn’t need an inhaler. He didn’t have asthma. Old habits died hard.
“No I -” Richie looked over and saw that Eddie looked panicked again.
“Talk to me.” Richie insisted, taking Eddie’s hand in his own.
Eddie stared at the ground, looking angry at himself. “You planned all this because I mentioned that I wanted to go camping and now I’m fucking it all up. You’re probably pissed.”
Richie swung a leg over the log, turning to face Eddie. “I’m not and you aren’t.”
“Don’t try to-”
“Im not saying it to make you feel better. Eddie I’ve waited twenty seven fucking years to be with you, I’m willing to do anything with you, anything you want even if we both suck at it and hate it. I don’t care as long as we’re together.”
“Even when I’m complaining about fake allergies?”
“Especially then. That’s your sexiest moment.”
Eddie whacked his shoulder, shaking his head. “Liar.”
“Eds I-” Richie reached for his pocket, fumbling for something he’d been carrying for weeks. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He pulled out the ring, showing it to Eddie. “Marry me.”
Eddie gaped, eyes going from his face to the ring. “Richie- what?”
“I was planning to do this at a sexier time. Maybe when we were naked under the stars or something but this-” He gestured at them, sweat was rolling down them and both looked a little miserable. “This is us. I want this for the rest of my life.”
Then Eddie grinned. “Fucking sap.” He nodded vigorously. “Yes, of course.” Richie took Eddie’s hand and slid the ring on his finger, thrilled that it fit perfectly. He’d sized it using Eddie’s old wedding ring but he’d still been worried.
Eddie leaned in and kissed him gently, cupping Richie’s face with his hands as he said, “Now please, can we go to a hotel? One with a big bathtub and champagne so we can celebrate properly?”
Richie nodded happily. “Oh fuck yes.” He stood, helping Eddie up and kissing him once more. “I love you.”
“Love you too babe, now get me out of the woods.”
@spastuetheobsessedphylosopher @chaotickaspbrak @wheezyeds @constantreaderfool @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @reddie-to-cryy @moonlightrichie @anellope @sparklingrainbowdragon @madi-personal @lifesucksheres20bucks @appojoos @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @andaleduardo @xandertheundead @adhdtrashmouth @rielysian @uppperteeeth @s-s-georgie @edstozler @s-onora @notmyspaghetti @twoidiotsinl0ve @spirited-marvel @lover-mouth @roobarrtrashmouth @njess04 @stansbooty @reddieobsessed @myeverythingisyourstruly @onlykatelyn @gczebos @ransonelovebot @kasp-brakz @animalfacts @vipphil @sourmoist @reddie4diaster @playing-jim @twistedrainbows8908 @princesass-theresa @theandrewhurley @mimiharu @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie @hushfakeomens @notyourmom90 @call-me-bread @ultrapaninibred @chaoticeddie @nerdsarebetter @rebecca-the-queen @ticomat @icecreamcatt @juhavs @kaspbrak-king @trashmouthtozierr @lumiereandcogsworth @matuk-art @atownofeggs @superwholock-padawan-trekkie @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @bowersgangvslosersclub @upsidedownlosers @state-of-longing @fandomgirllover @for-peanutbutter @wilding-throught-thehallways @gloire-celeste @eduardoandale @littledancersun @fourtccn @quenchyourhonor @nancynwheeler @elphiegoescraycray @finelinedwalls @eddiebearkaspbrak @no-she-wasnt-reddie @isabelleritma @meep2004 @victoria-joan @oldguybones sloppybitxch
@sloppybitxch
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FIC: Diglielo veramente
Despite the title, which comes from Lucio Dalla’s “Canzone” this fic is in English. Written for Martino’s birthday and featuring what I believe to be the true present Niccolò made for him.
A sweater. A fucking sweater. A tight-fitting, flimsy, piece of… fabric, that doesn't even look that bad on him - it surely makes his shoulders seem wider - but… it's just not his style, you know?
Sure you do. And so should Niccolò, after a year and a half they have spent together.
He bets that he would have known what to buy Luai.
'Come on, don't go there.' Martino tells himself, while he picks on the sweater and stares at Nico. Who'd like to keep the party a secret - hence walking back to the car to call Gio - but hasn't taken Luchino into consideration. 'Yes, that's it. Focus on the party, instead. That's very sweet of him, don't you think? It's neither a grand gesture nor an especially creative way to celebrate you… but… Cut him some slack, Martino. You know he's ridiculously busy with Uni. Still terrified you might walk out again, the next time he screws up. Can you really blame him for not having the time and not being in the right frame of mind to come up with something unique?'
He can't, but he kind of does? And that's why he ends up making such a request as if he can really demand complete transparency between them from now on. As if his trust in Nico can truly be rebuilt on giving him third-degrees every time he's out with someone who isn't Marti.
He truly appreciates Nico's commitment to it, though. He doesn't shy away from giving him answers that he knows Martino won't like. Or that will ruin his carefully planned surprise.
He's still feeling kind of let down, however? And he does wish he wasn't an open book to Niccolò, because his own disappointment is getting to Nico as well… and the last thing he wants on his birthday is for his boyfriend to be sad? As though he had failed him, over something so trivial?
He's spent hours trying to fully enjoy his wonderful beach date with Nico, but he hasn't been able to. And not just because of that damned fisherman.
"Marti?" Niccolò snaps him out of it, as they drive away. "Can you put some music on, please?"
"You know these weird appendices I've got at the bottom of my arms, Ni? They're called hands. You've got two as well, so use them." Martino huffs, teasing, as he waits to be told which one he is supposed to pick.
"First of all: should I remind you that you are the one who doesn't like it when I'm driving and fiddling with the car stereo?"
True. He'd rather have Niccolò looking at the road, instead of rummaging a box to find that particular mixtape he had made… Couldn't he buy a regular phone, and have it on Spotify, instead?
"Secondly, I believe I've shown you how well I can use my hands plenty of times, haven't I?" He squeezes Marti’s thigh at that, running his fingers way too close to his crotch.
"Maybe you need to jog my memory a bit?" Marti asks, grinning and dragging Niccolò’s hand right where he wants it the most.
"Mhh… A tempting offer, but no.” Much to Martino’s disappointment, Nico breaks free of his hold and puts his hand back on the wheel. “We can't be late, not after I begged everyone to show up as early as they possibly could. You're gonna have to wait…"
"Mh, all right." He is so not pouting, no sir. Not at all.
"Oh, come on,” Niccolò adds, in a gentler tone. “It'll be worth it. And you'll get the exclusive on the newest addition to our drawer… "
Huh? So the sweater isn't the only present he is going to get from him, today? He wonders what it could be… and how he is going to use it on Nico.
Okay, not the wisest idea to think about that, when he's trying to keep his libido at bay… and he can't remember why exactly?
'Because you're never gonna hear the end of it, both from the boys and the girls, if you two get home needing a shower and a change of clothes.'
Right. Okay, then. Let's hear what Nico is in the mood for, during their journey back home. Knowing him, it can anything ranging from old school rock to dubstep. He's quite curious to find out what it will be, this time.
It's placed… Inside a handmade music box, painted in blue and red?
It opens to, a melancholic - nonetheless soothing - melody. Nothing that Martino has ever heard before, so it must be either something really obscure or a song that Niccolò wrote for him. While they were apart, judging from the vibes it gives off.
“Cool, right? Can you believe I found how to make a music box on WikiHow? Internet is not just for porn, after all.” Nico keeps on talking since Marti has been left speechless. How many sleepless nights did it take, for him to make this? “Now, I don’t know if you’re too young to remember how to use a cassette deck, but you’ve got to insert that tape… Staring at it won’t-”
“Shut up.” He finally manages to say, slapping Nico’s nape. They both smile at his feigned yelp: he didn’t even hit him that hard.
"I know, the audio quality isn't the best but I haven't given Miché - who is indeed the guy from Foggia, before you ask - enough to find some proper recording equipment… They will sound better live, I promise."
There’s the tune from the music box but played on a piano, at first. Followed by a silly ukulele ballad… and yeah, it sure is the same one Nico attempted to play for him back in October 2018.
In true Niccolò Fares’ fashion, the mixtape itself is filled with the cheesiest songs he could find. Songs that make Martino groan, but that he can’t help but sing along to. And then… Then the mood abruptly changes, with the last three songs. All the silliness is gone, and each of those lyrics goes straight to his heart.
‘Perché non è facile... Forse nemmeno utile… Certe cose chiare dentro, poi non escono. Restano, restano.’
‘Le incomprensioni sono così strane, sarebbe meglio evitarle sempre, per non rischiare di aver ragione… Che la ragione non sempre serve.’
’Stammi più vicino ora che ho paura, perché in questa fretta tutto si consuma… Mai, non ti vorrei veder cambiare mai.’
“Stop the car. Now.” He says, turning off the radio. He can’t wait another minute to make it crystal clear to Niccolò that there is nothing left to forgive. That he regretted walking out on him the minute he did it, and that it’s never gonna happen again.
Perhaps he hasn’t been straightforward enough, under the bed. They always tend to get a little sidetracked, on their reunions, after all. He’s not that good with words, though. So… A bone-crushing hug will do, for now?
And maybe later he can do better, be a lot more convincing. It’s what they both deserve, don’t they? *************************** A/N: I will include the links for the lyrics’ translations on AO3. Not here otherwise the post doesn’t show up in the tags.
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demon!nctdream
in which nct dream are the demons of the 7 deadly sins you happen to meet
Mark Lee: pride.
a wholeass demon king. he prides himself for the power he holds as a demon in a human world and isn’t even humble about his supernatural strength and intelligence. he sees himself as superior to human beings, often times viewing them as useless. quite self-centric in that sense. but you, he couldn’t help but admire and respect. there is something about you that makes you a goddess to him and truly, you’re the only person he allows to stomp over his ego, he’d send anyone else down to hell in a second. he holds you so dear. you’ve had a hard time with how entitled his demon self is, but through observing him, it’s makes sense that he’s so prideful. he deserves that much recognition for what he’s achieved all on his own. “I’d love to take you back to where I’m from and marry you someday but…the queen title doesn’t give you enough credit” “Mark, I just thought it’d be nice to meet your parents,… not to become a queen….”
Huang Renjun: wrath.
hates everyone and doesn’t even hide it. although most of his hatred comes in form of glares or insults, he’s actually quite violent as well. and his demonic strength makes his anger even more dangerous than it already is. doesn’t hold back at all, instead, lets anger take whole control of him, so he ends up destroying things and hurting people. he had wiped off a whole section of hell once just out of anger, thereby others cower in fear in front of him. but he wonders why you don’t mind how overly rough he is. you’re always so patient and understanding with him. and he loves that you somehow always manage to calm down the demon in him although it makes him a little vulnerable. “I could just headlock you and smother you with kisses and hugs right now until you can’t even breathe” “That’s….a very interesting way to put it. Um,… I love you, too, babe”
Lee Jeno: sloth.
quite the lazy ruler. with the power he has, he’ll just snap his fingers and have other people do things for him. doesn’t really bother doing anything that requires too much effort but others can’t complain about it because they’re scared of him. a demon who loves leisure is a demon who kills anyone who takes it away from him. so, wake him up from his nap and you’ll be napping for the rest of your life. But when you once woke him up, he didn’t really snap at you. something about the way your hoodie looked so warm and cozy made him pull you down with him, hugging you until he fell back asleep. from then on, he’d always come looking for you and demand you to help him sleep because you did it very well. a lot of times, he’d just be playing video games while you sit in his lap, nuzzled in his chest so he has where to slung his arms around. “I’ve had slaves feed and fan me….but none of them ever received such privilege as you, kitten” “I’m sweating like crazy from the seven-hour cuddle with no aircon, Jeno. What kind of privilege is this?”
Lee Donghyuck: envy.
he has always been a jealous kind of demon boyfriend. you enjoy seeing his jealous and possessive side from time to time but you start to realize he’s always jealous over the smallest of things. his eyes turn green when he’s envious, which happens a lot. he refuses to stand still when someone else approaches you, he send them straight down to hell, never to be seen again. because of that, you got into many arguments of privacy and freedom, which would end up with yall “breaking up”. but he can’t stand being away from you so he’d be coming back, apologizing. he’d appear in your bedroom at midnight, just to rip the plushies from your arms and place himself in instead and sleep, kissing you all over while whispering how much he loves you. it makes you melt, tbh. “this is the dungeon of hell, where I punish sinners that dare touch you and-” “hyuck, what the hell are my plushies and pets doing down here?!”
Na Jaemin: lust.
always so affectionate with you, peppering you with kisses and smothering you in hugs. he could never really keep his hands off you. but a lot of times, it’d get out of hand and that’s when his demon takes over, barely containing his sinful desires. his eyes turn red while staring down at you, breathing heavily just because you show a little more skin than usual and it drives him crazy. all these dark thoughts invade his mind but he fights to not take you then and there, he can’t bring to do that to you even though he’s never held back with his past lovers. It’s because you’re the only person he’s ever truly loved and you’re precious for him to ruin. he’s swore to wait until you feel ready. the farthest it has really gone is your whole neck covered in purple hickeys that one time you wore a strapless dress, which he has constantly apologized to you for. “This math equation is so confusing, damn it” “Baby, please….don’t bite your lip like that. It drives me insane, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back next time”
Zhong Chenle: greed.
he is already a demon on a throne who has everything in his reach. yet it’s not enough for him. hell is not enough for him. that’s why he comes to earth, observing it before planning to conquer it. and he truly can, he’s just that capable. but his desire of the whole world fades away the minute he encounters you, helping him get rid of a roach. from then on, he decides, he has to have you before the world because you’re the most precious and powerful human being. and so he does. he peppers you with anything you’ve ever dreamed of having and although it makes you feel great, it’s actually the way he treats you that makes you fall for him. the demon in him seeps through his constant want to make the world’s wealth his but his weakness is not having you, his sense of the whole world. “If I Disney Land, should I name it LeLe land or Dolphin la-” “Babe, I love you but…it’s 2am, can’t we just go back to sleep?”
Park Jisung: gluttony.
tough and fierce. rarely ever shows any emotions, which paints him as a very mysterious kind of demon. opposite from his calmness is his excitement for food. as someone that is young and growing, he eats a lot. it’s his passion. he is a demon who devours food of all sorts. the rarer the better. loves food even more than people and he’ll go to lengths just in order to taste something, even if it was killing to eat, demons could afterall devour human as well if they wanted to. and somehow, he finds himself interested in you, who doesn’t eat too often. and when you do, you eat the simplest of foods. It drove him mad how a person could have so little appreciation towards food and he makes it his goal to change your mind. somehow midway he grows very fond of you, so fond he has to remind himself you’re human, not food. the only human he ever likes more than food. “If you were food, I’d definitely saviour you for last….like dessert, you’d be the sweet sweet kind~” “A-Are you really sure demons don’t eat human? You’re making me feel a little unsafe right now”
author’s note thank you so much for reading and sending in requests!!! I wasn’t very sure whether to go really dark on this or to go more light-hearted and soft/comedy way. so i decided on the latter as it fir the dreamies more.and when thinking about demons, 7 deadly sins was the first thing that popped to my mind and dreamies have 7 members soooo....yea. ♥️ I love you ♥️
#nct#nct dream#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct au#nct reaction#mark lee#mark#huang renjun#lee jeno#jeno#lee donghyuck#donghyuck#haechan#na jaemin#jaemin#zhong chenle#chenle#park jisung#jisung#nct dream scenario#kpop scenario#demon!au
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Left Behind -- Chapter 19
In which Lucy runs away.
PART 1 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21
Read on Ao3
Hugh’s persistence was irritating. Fifteen times he called her before they landed at home, and a further eight during post flight checks.
The looks she was getting from everyone else was perhaps the most frustrating issue. Even with the escort jets sat on their wing tips, following too close and too long for her liking. There was already enough for her to worry about without Hugh demanding her attention.
Security was her biggest concern.
That she still hadn’t told them about Jeff was a firm second on that list.
Though she couldn’t exactly say that there was anything to tell. Hiram was still working on the communications relay, the Calypso still not quite where they needed it and the new parts for Thunderbird Five still awaiting shipment.
Whether Scott or her was more impatient for everything to come together she wasn’t sure.
Though, if the whole thing took much longer, it may well have been too late. Hugh had said in two weeks they’d be ready to make a move on Gaat. Assuming their plan worked and they got hold of the T-Drive… she didn’t dare think of the possibilities.
“Hugh,” She sighed as she eventually closed her bedroom door, “I have had a ridiculously lon--”
“We need to launch.”
“What?” She blanched, they weren’t ready, she hadn’t warned the boys that she had to leave for a few days, there was the whole security threat to worry about. They were meant to have time.
He sighed and shook his head across the comm, “I know, and that’s why I was trying to get hold of you! My intelligence says there’s been a last minute change of plan, Gaat must know there’s a leak.”
Running a hand through her hair, she cursed, “Will our plan still work?”
The noncommittal shrug worried her, part of her screaming that she could call the whole thing off and abort the mission. Her boys needed her safe, her family, IR, Tracy Industries. There were so many reasons for her to turn away from the biggest risk of her life.
Jeff was the reason to keep going though.
“I mean it should,” Hugh corrected himself, “the entire principle is still the same. It’s just early.”
Put like that, it was slightly more reassuring.
“It’s going to be a few hours before I can get to LA.” She sighed, “Can you wait that long?”
He nodded, “I don’t know exactly when, but I know soon. I’ll be ready to fly to Nevada as soon as you land.”
At least she didn’t have to fly the whole way on her own.
Already looking to her bag and planning in her head what she would “I’ll call you once I’m in the air.”
“Fly safe Luce.” He murmured, voice softening, “We’ll work this out.”
She had to smile at his assurance, nodding slightly in acknowledgement, “I trust you Hugh.”
He chuckled as he cut the call, leaving Lucy staring at her wardrobe as she unzipped her day bag.
Truly, there was only one item of clothing she needed. The black copy of her IR suit that she had had made as soon as she knew about the mission. None of the others knew about it, and she planned on keeping it that way with the item hidden in the back corner of the wardrobe, behind Jeff’s winter ski gear.
The bag seemed too empty though, and it was obvious that there wasn’t enough in it for what she was going to tell the others. Grabbing a couple of t-shirts and jeans she shoved them in on top, hoping it would be enough to cover the suit for anyone who might try and look before she could take off.
Glancing around the room, she took a breath and pursed her lips. She could only hope that things went her way, that finally things would come together better than she ever possibly could have dreamed.
She wasn’t sure what she would do if they didn’t.
It didn’t bear dwelling on. Shaking her head she left the room, turning to make a beeline for the hangars. Waiting around wouldn’t help, and goodbyes would only lead to awkward questions. In time they would understand, once they knew why she had left as she had, they would know she only had the right intentions at heart.
Scott would make sure of that for her.
She hated putting so much weight on the eldests shoulders, but as a one off she felt it was necessary.
Otherwise the others would only want to help.
Even with the best intentions, she knew that the more people that were involved, the worse things would turn out.
Lee caught her at the top of the stairs, bringing her to a jarring halt as his eyes went straight to her bag. Frowning at her he blocked the stairs,
“You just got in.”
Nodding, she stood straighter, “And I need to go again, this is urgent, Lee.”
He folded his arms as he shook his head, “Your flight hours--”
“I’m under them, Virgil flew home.” She snapped back at him, “Now if you don’t mind…”
He didn’t budge, arms still folded, brows still furrowed.
She could have screamed at him, cured him for being so damn stubborn like the rest of them. Why couldn’t he have been one of those brothers that didn’t care? That just let her do her own thing without question or concern.
“Lee! Move!” She snapped, “I need to be in LA ASAP and you blocking the stairs is wasting time.”
He raised an eyebrow, “LA huh? Goin’ to see your boyfriend there?”
Hackles rose as she gripped her bag tighter in her hand, “I do not have a boyfriend.”
He shrugged at her, “Val said--”
“Val knows fuck all! I’m going to LA to sort a hack on Tracy Industries and investigate this supposed breach, okay? Kind of urgent, kind of trying to keep it low key.”
He was still frowning as he stepped to the side, allowing her to squeeze past him and start down the stairs.
It wasn’t until she was half way down that he called after her, “I know when you’re lying, always have done.”
It was an underhand tactic, but what else did she expect from her younger brother? As stubborn and as caring as they came.
“Don’t ask what I can’t tell you, Lee. You should know better.”
He grunted and shook his head, but she didn’t spare the time to hear his response as she continued down the stairs, only pausing as she waited for the elevator, hoping that he didn’t follow her and nobody else came looking.
Tracy Two was sat in the hangar in its usual spot, door open and steps waiting.
She hesitated with a frown, unsure of who else would have the jet out for any reason.
A shadow moved into the doorway and Kyrano leant out of the door, gesturing behind him into the jet.
Not needing to be told twice, she jogged up to the plane, taking the steps two at a time until she was inside and able to dump her beg on the nearest seat.
“I thought you were in New York?” She asked, turning to find him remotely detaching the stairs and closing the door.
He nodded once, “I was, then I heard from the GDF about the possible security issue. Then I heard about our need to go for a meeting and flew over here to collect you.”
She froze, the security worry coming back to the fore of her mind, “What do we do?”
Reaching out he squeezed her shoulder, “I’ve briefed Tanusha and Penelope. They have it under control.”
Her shoulders sank as she smiled tiredly, “Thank you.”
Looking towards the cockpit, Kyrano gestured towards the leather seats, “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you when we get close.”
It was instinct to fly, she couldn’t remember the last time she had simply been a passenger on her own plane.
“I can--”
“Sleep Lucy, you’ll be no good to us exhausted.”
The plush, deep leather seats did look inviting, and it would mean she would have a chance to deal with Janus.
Except, the way Kyrano had folded his arms and was looking at her suggested otherwise though, “Don’t worry about Janus, Tanusha is dealing with him.”
She sighed, shaking her head, “I could have--”
“Get some sleep.” He ordered, “And strap in, we’re going to have a rough take off if we don’t want to get caught out.”
Feeling like a child at school again, she pursed her lips and nodded, “Okay.”
He softened slightly at her response, “We’ll be back before they know it, and hopefully with some more answers for them.”
Curling into the seat she looked out the window to the hangar, watching the cleaner bots as they scrubbed away at the hull of Thunderbird Two. Jeff had once laughed at the suggestion of designing robots to clean the ships between rescues, only to come back from a rock slide scratching his head as he had asked for the paperwork to approve the creation.
Smiling fondly, she dreaded to think what mad ideas might have gone ahead if she hadn’t been around to slow him down.
The jolt of the jet was sharp and sudden as it sped up down the short runway of the island. It pushed her back into her seat and held her there as they lifted into the air, clearing the rocky dip into the sea with ease as they banked eastward.
Her comm buzzed in her bag and she chose to ignore it, knowing it would only be one of the boys asking where she was off to. Plausible deniability was the safest option if it was Scott calling, the less he knew, the less he would be able to give away to the others. If it was anyone else, then it simply saved her having to come up with excuses.
The justification to herself didn’t settle the unease in her stomach as she chewed on her lip. Something in the back of her mind was nagging, that same anxious voice that had convinced her that she had somehow been responsible for the first explosion that they all thought had killed Jeff. Except now it was telling her that her family had a right to know, a need to know that there was a hope that she was about to find a way to bring their missing member home. Was she really right to keep it from them?
The insistent buzzing of the comm gave up, leaving the decision made for her.
She just hoped it was the right one.
#thunderbirds are go#Thunderbirds 2015#Lucy AU#lucy tracy#Lee Taylor#Hugh Creighton-Ward#Kyrano#scribbles writes#Left Behind Part 2
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Secrets, Sonny Carisi ~ Part 5
You are the newest detective at SVU, things are great until things from your past come back to haunt you. Look at me starting a new story when I have a million stories to be written… oh well. Also, I know my stories are very dialogue-heavy, I’m working on it Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Also posted on ao3 Words: 2032
“Ra-Rafael... what are you doing here?” Liv stuttered. The squad hadn’t seen him since his trial, he looked the same besides the small beard he had grown. Silence fell over the precinct as you stared at him.
“Why... how...” you turned to Nick “you called him too?” You didn’t yell, you didn’t even look mad, you were just over it.
“You weren’t returning my calls, I was afraid you were hurt. I figured he’d know” Nick sighed “y/n-“
“- I can’t do this” you shook your head and quickly walked out of the squad room. You just had to get out of there, you couldn’t deal with them all staring at you.
“I’ll go” Rafael and Nick both said at the same time.
“No, I will. I think the two of you have done enough... whatever you’ve done” Sonny held his hands up stopping anyone from following you before slowly going after you.
“Right now I’m really confused” Fin spoke breaking the silence.
“You think your confused” Kat mumbled
“Can someone please explain?” Amanda asked looking between Nick and Rafael. “How the hell are you involved in all this?
“Y/n is my little sister” Rafael sighed
“Since when? I thought you were an only child?” Fin asked
“Since my mother birthed her” Rafael snapped before taking a breath to calm down. “She moved to LA when she was 19 and joined the academy”
“She’s a Diaz though” Amanda said
“She was born a Barba, she legally changed her name to our abuela’s when she was 15. When she found out the type of man our father was... She wanted me to change mine too but I told her it was stupid, it’s just a name. She didn’t see it that way” Rafael looked at Nick “thank you for calling”
“I don’t care what she says, I will always keep her safe, it’s my job” Nick nodded
“You do it better than me” he mumbled
“Why isn’t she safe?” Kat asked, asking the question that was on Amanda and Fin’s minds as well.
“She didn’t move to New York by choice, I sent her” Declan said making his presence known “needed to get her out of LA, send her home to New York and I saw there was an opening here at SVU, I knew she’d be safe here” Declan said
“You still haven’t answered the question, why isn’t she safe?” Amanda demanded.
“She moved to LA with her boyfriend Tate...” Rafael began
You paced around the crib trying to calm down. You felt your anxiety levels rise more and more as you paced around the beds. You wanted to scream, but screaming in a police station is not the best idea. You scrunched your eyes as you heard the door open.
“Go away Rafael”
“It’s not Rafael” Sonny said quietly coming into the room and shutting the door. You turned to him. “Y/n what is going on? Why haven’t you said any-“ Sonny stopped as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his chest. You held onto him tight “hey, hey doll it’s okay, don’t cry” you hadn’t even realised you were crying.
“I’m sorry”
“What are you sorry for?” Sonny said Into your hair
“For causing drama, for not telling you about Murphy or Nick... or Rafael” you sighed collecting yourself “for not telling you a lot of things”
“Its fine Doll, you’ll tell me when your ready”
“I don’t deserve you. I know everything about you. I know about your ex-girlfriends and about you jumping around as a detective and going to law school. I’ve met your parents, your sisters, nieces and nephews, your grandparents and your cousins and you haven’t even met my mum or knew that I had a brother let alone him being your old ADA-“
“None of that matters. You know what I know?” Sonny asked
“What?”
“I know that I love you. I know that you can’t sleep with pants on but have to have a blanket. I know that you would eat ice cream and pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner if it was socially acceptable. I know that you care so much about our victims and will go above and beyond to give them the justice they deserve. I know that you could sleep for 12 hours and still be tired” Sonny put his fingers under your chin and lifted it to make to look up at him. You looked into his baby blues. You could see in his eyes that he meant everything that he was saying “And most importantly I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up and go to bed with you as long as you’ll have me. I want to be the person you come to when you need someone. I want you on your best days and on your worst, I know enough”
“Even when I’m being annoying?” you whispered
“Especially when your annoying” Sonny smiled before he kissed you. You felt all the tension in your body just melt away. “Better?” You nodded and kissed him again.
“Is he still out there?”
“I don’t think he’s gonna leave without seeing you... any of them” Sonny said “Doll... I know I said you’d tell me when your ready but... is something wrong? You’ve been acting strange for a while”
“I’m always strange”
“Stranger then usual then” Sonny smiled “I just wanna make sure you're safe”
“Come sit” you took his hand and sat down on one of the beds. It was time, it was finally time to come clean. You couldn’t handle this on your own anymore “So you know I moved from New York to LA when I was 19 and I joined the academy but what you don’t know is I moved with my boyfriend Tate... we met in school started dating when we were 16. Mami and Rafael hated him... I left them... I left my Abuelita to follow him. He was the one that wanted to move. He didn’t want me to become a cop but I knew I had to. I don’t know what Rafael told you about our dad... if he told you anything...”
“Not a lot just that he wasn’t a great guy” Sonny softly spoke. Your dad was a sore spot for you and Rafael so I didn’t surprise you that Rafael didn’t speak about him.
“Not a great guy is putting it lightly” you chuckled bitterly “I idolised Rafi growing up, the age gap is bigger than most but it didn’t matter, Rafi never made me feel like the stupid little sister. I wanted to be just like him when I was little but I quickly realised I wasn’t smart enough to be a lawyer so here I am a cop instead”
“So it was your dad and Rafael that made you want to be a cop?”
“Yep” you nodded “Tate was so against it. Said that girls shouldn’t be cops, that I wouldn’t be strong enough to do it”
“Clearly he didn’t know you” you smiled sadly at him
“He didn’t come to my academy graduation. He was too busy... apparently sitting on the couch at home is really time-consuming”
“I’m not going to like where this is going am I?”
“Probably not... I got partnered with Nick straight out of the academy. He told about his time here and we bonded over how annoying Rafi can be” you giggled “he was unofficial big brother, taught me everything about being a good cop. Tate didn’t like that I was partnered with a man... I don’t know what he thought because he didn’t like women police officers. Tate couldn’t have cared when I made detective, he didn’t care about anything I did. Nick knew... Nick knew early on that the relationship was bad, he tried to tell me and I didn’t listen”
“Y/n-“
“Nick noticed the bruises, he tried to get me out... he tried to scare Tate but it didn’t work. And he was my emergency contact so every time I wound up at the hospital he’d get called”
“How often did you go to hospital?” Sonny asked, his hands played with yours in your lap.
“I lost count... the worst he did was dislocating my shoulder before Murphy got a restraining order put out for me. It took him 2 weeks to violate it... he found me at the grocery store, threw me around... he broke 3 ribs, dislocated my shoulder again, black eye, a bunch of bruises... you know” you shrugged. “I’d convinced Nick and Murphy not to arrest him but they weren’t going to let him get away this time”
“Good. They should have arrested him the moment he laid a hand on you. He doesn’t get to do that” Sonny was getting mad, you could see him trying to stay calm but it was hard.
“I begged them not to, he was my boyfriend. It didn’t matter that my mum, my brother, my abuela didn’t like him. I didn’t care about that because he was my first ever boyfriend my first love... my first everything”
“He didn’t... please tell me he didn’t-“
“No, no he never did anything sexually, it was just physical” Sonny breathed a sigh of relief “he got 2 years with parole in a year with good behaviour, which then got lowered to 10 months”
“2 years? Are you kidding me?”
“You know as well as I do that the justice system is not always fair... when I was healed Murphy told me he got me a transfer here. Nick had always told me how much he loved SVU so I was excited to come home. Murphy promised me that he didn’t tell anyone that he was getting me the job and that no one knew anything about what happened with Tate”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Doll”
“I know... and I came here and everything was great, everything is great, amazing even until about a month... maybe a month and a half ago”
“What happened a month ago?”
“Tate made parole. I was notified, Nick and Murphy would have been too. I was asked to speak but I declined. They granted him parole and a week later he was gone... I was notified again and then the next thing I know I got it...”
“Got what?” Sonny frowned
“The first note... it was sent to the precinct. I knew straight away it was from Tate but I couldn’t prove it. There was no fingerprints, no DNA, no stamp not even any footage of anyone dropping it off”
“You said first... how many have you gotten?”
“I don’t know a dozen?”
“And they’ve all come to the station? Just notes?”
“Well... actually I’ve gotten some at home and some photos...”
“Y/n! Are you kidding me?! He knows where you live?! And you didn’t tell anyone?! He could have seriously hurt you! What were you thinking?!” Sonny’s outburst made you jump slightly. He stood up from the bed and started pacing.
“I didn’t want to believe it! I thought I could handle by myself its not like he’s a criminal mastermind, everyone is so busy... I didn’t want everyone fussing!”
“Clearly you can’t handle this” Sonny fired at you. You stared at the floor, not knowing what to say. You knew deep down he was right, you just didn’t want to believe it “You should have come to me” his voice was softer, quieter.
“I know and I’m sorry. This effects you too” Sonny took your hands and made you stand up. He wrapped his arms around you again.
“Did you at least keep everything?”
“Of course, it’s in the bottom drawer of my desk”
“You know you have to tell them right?” Sonny sighed
“They are gonna be mad”
“I’ll be there to protect you”
“Promise?”
“Promise” he nodded, you held up your pinky
“Pinky swear?” Sonny chuckled and linked his finger around yours
“Pinky swear” he kissed your hand “Come on Doll, let's go talk to everyone, let's find this son of a bitch”
#law and order svu#law and order svu fanfic#law and order svu imagines#sonny carisi#sonny carisi fanfic#sonny carisi imagines#sonny carisi x reader
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