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quindolyn · 4 years

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Midnight Walks || James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 4363

Note: Dedicated to 🦎anon from @/randomoutsiders blog. Where I live it’s already 84℉ so this completely feasible but if you don’t live in hell and it's still cold and wintery outside just push it back a few months.

Warnings: Insecure reader, like 2 sexual comments because I’m filthy, talk of men being pigs and not keeping their hands to themselves, lots of fluff, modern muggle au, monkey bars, public nonsexual stripping,

Masterlist

Part 2

There were ants in your bones, there must’ve been. Either that or someone was trying to feather dust their way out of them. Your entire body itched with the urge to move, to run, to scream and jump in the middle of the street. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what drove this overwhelming desire, perhaps it was some sort of primal reason coded into your DNA, alternatively maybe it was the sitting at your computer all day. One could only attend so many online classes before they went insane, and a decent way into your second semester and still no sign of going back in person anytime before the next school year. You were like a purebred who desperately needed exercise. It would’ve been a simple enough fix if it wasn’t already 10:17, the sun having set four or so hours ago, even though you lived in a pretty nice area you didn’t feel comfortable going out. Men were disgusting, and going out this late alone meant risking life and limb because too many men thought it was okay to touch what wasn’t theirs. Fucking toddlers. So instead you were forced to open your windows in attempts to replicate the natural breeze and try to find another outlet for your energy. You tried. You really did. Jumping jacks, planks, the few yoga poses you could recall off the top of your head, dancing around your house to your favorite songs, but the music didn’t feel like it usually did, even it couldn’t soothe the itching in your bones. You were fucked, simply and truly. Too energetic without the proper outlet. After none of those things worked you sat down to attempt to get some of your weekend homework done, but somewhere between ionization energy and confidence intervals you found yourself picking at your nail polish instead of paying attention to your work. Groaning you threw your head down onto your desk, wincing as the pain from the impact spread through your skull. Closing your eyes you tried to imagine it, the cool night air in your face, blowing through your mangled tresses, the thud of your feet against the pavement of the sidewalk, the feeling of the grass at the park tickling your exposed skin as you stared up at the cloudy sky, looking for stars. You swore you could almost feel it all, almost pulled into bliss when you were yanked from your reprieve by the buzzing of your phone. Groaning, you pulled your head up, it wobbled on your neck, as though it was loose and needed to be tightened. Had you wanted to you couldn’t have stopped the smile that broke across your phone when you saw the notification on your lock screen, a text from James. Can I call you? Sure. You typed out waiting anxiously for your ringtone to blare through your room. Instead you were met with another brief buzz. One second, Sirius is being an idiot. Another smile, smaller than the last, bloomed across your face, Sirius was often an idiot. Picking up your phone you pressed it to your ear just in time to hear James greet you. “Hey baby.” Loving James was potentially one of the easiest things you’d ever done, if asked you would've said it would be easier to stop breathing before you stopped loving him. There was just so much to love and as his voice tickled your ear you remembered one of the things you so loved about him, the sound of his voice. With two simple words he was able to soothe you, if only a little bit. But still the ache to be outside lessened a little. “Hi Jamsie.” You crooned into the phone as you shut down your laptop coming to the conclusion you were going to get jack shit done tonight. You distantly heard Sirius in the background but couldn’t make out any words, “Pads says hi.” James conveyed. “Hi Siri!” You yelled into the phone, you waited until the bickering and laughing on their side of the phone quieted before continuing, “Whatcha callin’ about bub?” “Missed you is all, was wondering what you were doing?” “Nothing much, tried to get some homework done.” James chuckled knowing how distracted you could get if someone wasn’t there to help you stay on track, “How’d that go?” “Not well,” You grumbled, “S’not my fault either, can’t focus. I just need some fresh air, I need to go on a walk but I can’t.” Flinging your body onto your bed and landing on your back you pulled the phone from your ear, turning it onto speaker and setting it on your belly, liking the vibrations against your body as James spoke. It was almost like he was there with you. “I’m sorry darling,” James knew exactly what you were talking about. Unlike a lot of men he wasn’t afraid to broach topics like these, he would sit and kiss your head if some guy at the grocery store had been a prick and couldn't keep his eyes or his hands off of your ass, or if one of the boys in your class had made an objectifying comment. He’d listen to you lament and apologize, on behalf of all men, for the disgusting things you were forced to deal with. He had learned a lot since you started dating, he’d always been a feminist but before you hadn’t really understood what that meant. His mother and father always made sure he was aware of gender biases and he’d heard stories of women being assaulted, harassed, discriminated against and perhaps it made him a bad person but when it happened to you, when you told him about these things it was different, it was worse, he couldn’t control the rage that bubbled up inside of him. You were (Y/N) (L/N), you were his, you deserved to be treated like royalty. No one got to disrespect you. He felt the pang in his heart when he pictured you holed up in your house, like a caged animal, desperate to get out. “I know, and I love you.” You responded, knowing he hated how you had to be afraid and cautious all the time. “I love you too.” “What were you doing before you called?” You asked after a beat. “Watching a movie with mom and Sirius.” A twinge of guilt twisted in your stomach, “Oh, you should go back to them Jamsie, I don’t want to keep you from your family.” James stopped himself before he could tell you that they’d already finished the movie as an idea hit him like most of his ideas hit him, suddenly and fleetingly. Remus once compared them to a freight train. “Okay angel, talk to you later.” “Bye, Jamsie.” He hung up immediately as the last syllable left your lips causing a frown to tug downwards at those aforementioned lips. Sure, you felt a bit guilty that he’d bailed on his mom and Sirius for you but you couldn’t help feeling a little sad that he was so ready to get rid of you the second he had a chance. Feeling all too familiar insecurity simmer from under your sternum questions popped into your head one after another. Did he really want to be with you? Was this all because he just pitied you? Were you just a substitute for Lily? Did his heart still belong to her? What did he even see in you? You couldn’t help but feel like nothing compared to her, she’s Lily Evans. And you’re, well you’re just not. Time had slipped away from you, you hadn’t realised how much until you felt your phone buzz against your stomach and saw that almost 15 minutes had passed since James had hung up on you. You only briefly noted the time before your eyes flashed down to the banner displayed across your screen, another text. Look out your window. Lifting your torso, propping yourself up on your forearms and twisted your head to see James’ smiling face plastered against your window, a huge, beautiful grin, stretching across his face. You could feel a matching one fan out across your face as you skipped to the window, pulling it open relishing in the cool breeze that let itself into your room. “Hey there handsome.” You joked. “Hey beautiful.” “What are you doing outside my window?” You were befuddled, wasn’t he supposed to be watching some Quentin Tarantino or equally violent movies that he and Siri liked? “I was thinking we could go on a walk,” He explained unabashedly. “A walk?” You asked, a blush blossoming on your face, creeping its way down your neck. “You wanted to go on one, yeah?” “I love you.” Was all you said in response, he caught you as you threw yourself into his arms, the middle of your thighs biting into the sill of your window, but you didn’t care. How could you? All you could focus on was the way his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close to him so he could bury his nose into your hair. “Love you too darling.” There was a part of you, an admittedly large part, that wanted to stay standing there forever but the cool evening air reminded you about how much you wanted that walk. Peeling yourself away from him you placed your chin on his pectoral, not considerably comfortable for either of you, but you were close to each other, and that’s all that mattered. “Come in.” “I was waiting for you to ask.” He winked, slinging one leg over the windowsill giving him room to maneuver his rather large body through the small opening, but James had experience fitting his body into tiny things (namely your cunt). “Are your parents home?” “No, everyone’s gone for the night.” “Why didn’t you tell me baby, I would’ve come over and kept you company.” You felt heat creep back up your neck to your face, embarrassed by the answer. Though your insecurities could swallow you whole when you were alone, they seemed trivial when James was actually there, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. “Don’t want to be clingy.” The confession bringing even more heat to your cheeks. “Never, (Y/N), absolutely never. If anyone here is clingy it's me not you.” You corrected him, “You’re wonderful.” “So are you bub.” Reassuring you he brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “Now come on! Let’s get some shoes on you and we can go out.”

James was filling up an old water bottle he found in one of the cupboards in case either of you got thirsty when you entered the kitchen, shoes and socks in hand. Your boy smiled at you, twisting the cap of the water bottle on all of the way before setting it on the countertop and moving towards you. “Want me to put your shoes on for you?” “Yes please.” You nodded, grinning cheekily. His large hands found your waist, lifting you up and setting your bum onto the cool counter. Slipping the socks from your hand he knelt down to roll them over your feet, leaving a kiss on the inside of each of your ankles. “You wanna walk to anywhere in particular?” “The park?” You offered, handing him one of your tennis shoes which were a little beat up, but still a long way from needing to be replaced. “The one with the fountain?” “Do you know of any other parks within walking distance?” You snarked, swinging your legs, feeling the need to be outside return, faster and more powerful than before. “Guess not,” He grumbled, looking up at you with a playful smile so you would know he didn’t really take your sarcasm to heart. “Hey watch it!” He chuckled when you accidentally swung your leg a little too hard and knocked his left shoulder with your socked foot. “Sorry.” You apologized looking about as sorry as Sirius usually did when he was apologizing, which honestly wasn’t much. “There you go Cinderella.” He said, as he pat your thigh once he finished tying your laces, rising from his kneeling position. “You think you’re funny do you Potter?” “In fact I do (L/N).” He grinned, sliding you off the counter, onto your feet. “Shall we?” You offered your hand to him which he accepted like a true gentleman. “We shall.”

You were right, but then again, when were you ever wrong? Fresh air was exactly what you needed, the feeling of the wind in your hair, the twigs snapping beneath your weight, the solidness of the ground. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this alive. That was probably stupid but it was liberating to be out of your house, and on top of it it was nighttime too. You weren’t often able to be out this late because you usually didn’t have someone to go out with. You had almost forgotten how beautiful it was when there was no glass separating you from the moon and the stars. Despite the fact that his legs were far longer than yours James still had to speed walk to keep up with you. His heart swelled seeing you so happy and carefree as you strode unapologetically down the sidewalk. “Stop walking so fast.” He complained, finally matching your stride as he loosely looped his left arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible while still keeping the two of you moving forward. “Not my fault you’re a slowpoke.” You retaliated but nevertheless still resting your head on his broad shoulder. “It’s nice out isn’t it?” He pondered aloud. “It’s wonderful,” You agreed, closing your eyes and turning your face up towards the sky, trusting James to guide you safely down the sidewalk, “I’m sorry you had to ditch your mom and Siri to come be with me.” You apologized as another wave of guilt from earlier hit you. “I didn’t bubba, we’d already finished the movie when I called you.” “Really?” Your head perked up. “Mhm.” James hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me that?’ “Wanted to surprise you.” He explained and your heart soared, he really was indescribably sweet. “Well I was surprised.” “Good.” “What movie did you watch?” Wondering if your suspicions had been correct. “Forrest Gump.” He responded by popping his “p”. You laughed squeezing two of James’ fingers on the hand splayed across your stomach. “What?” “Nothin’, just thought you and Pads would’ve made your mom watch Reservoir Dogs or something.” “Come on, you know me and Padfoot (Y/N), nothin’ but a couple of softies the two of us.” “Yes, yes you are.” You responded completely seriously. “You were supposed to disagree, he whispered into your ear. “I cannot tell a lie.” “Hey!” He exclaimed in mock offense. “Come on I found the two fo you cuddling when I came over Wednesday, he was literally spooning you Jamsie. It was rather cute really.” James let you have the last word and the two of you were silent for a minute as you passed a house with a line of cars in front of it, stupid fucking people and their stupid fucking parties. You thought, thinking they’re more important than the rest of us, that it’s okay to throw a party during the middle of a pandemic. “There’s a pandemic going on people,” James muttered as you crossed in front of the driveway, as though he was reading your thoughts. You just nestled into him more. Once you cleared the super spreader house it was only a few feet before you turned the corner and your desired destination came into view causing a ginormous smile to practically crack your face in half. “Come on Jamie!” You giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street towards the park, not even looking both ways as you bolted across the street to the park. You’d always thought that parks and playgrounds and such looked a bit creepy after dark and while today was no exception you still didn’t think twice before bounding up the steps of the play structure. Laughing, you turned your face back up towards the sky as you reached down to slip your shoes and socks off, tossing them off the play structure onto the wood chips scattered across the ground. “You look beautiful up there.” You hadn’t noticed James approach you, but he was now standing at the foot of the play structure, looking up at you. “Come up here with me Jamie, please?” You pleaded, tugging on his arm. “How could I deny you anything?” “Simple,” You responded, “You can’t.” Pushing himself up onto the structure he tried to envelop you in his arms but you squirmed away, giggling. As you ran toward the slide at the opposite end of the playground he broke out into a run after you, purposefully keeping his strides short to give you the upper hand. Breaking out into a sprint as soon as your feet touched the ground you raced towards the open field, James hot on your heels. He chased you around the perimeter of the grassy clearing, the two of you yelling at each other and laughing until your lungs hurt when he finally caught you in his arms, trying to get you as close to him as possible. He loved the feeling of your body against his more than he loved life itself. Or even Sirius. “What should I do with you now that I’ve captured you?” He mused tauntingly, tightening his grip on you. “Well I know one thing you could do to me.” You murmured. “(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), get your mind out of the gutter Miss,” “Make me.” You teased, wiggling in his grasp. “I know what’ll fix your attitude.” James declared, adjusting his so his arms were around your waist instead of one there and one wrapped around your shoulders. “And what’s that?” “A nice February swim!” He roared jovially, hefting you over his shoulder as he bounded towards the fountain located on the east side of the park. “Jamie!” You shrieked as you bounced against him, “Slow down.” “Sorry Princess,” He huffed once you reached the fountain, he carefully lifted you off his shoulder and sat you down on the ledge of the water feature as he kneeled before you, hands pressing against your thighs. “Come on baby, go swimming with me?” “Course.” You smiled as you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it somewhere over Jamie’s shoulder. You didn’t bother watching where it landed, too enraptured with the gorgeous boy on his knees in front of you. “You look gorgeous (Y/N).” He murmured, taking it the sight of your bare stomach and chest clad in a lacy lavender bra. “I let you see mine, now get your shirt off Potter!” You commanded impatiently, you loved James all the time, but you especially loved James shirtless. “Okay, okay woman, calm down, I'm moving.” He playfully chastised shrugging off his jacket which you just now realised was his varsity jacket, his last name emblazoned across the back of it. When he caught you staring at him he teasingly played with the hem of his shirt, rolling it in the tips of his fingers until you lightly kicked his bent knee. He then discarded his pants, throwing them and his shirt somewhere to his right, carefully laying his jacket on a bench a few feet away he was left only in his boxers and you took this time to appreciate how his skin shown in the moonlight, his darker complexion brilliant in the darkness of the park. “You wanna keep your shorts on? He lilted, moving towards where you sat on the bench encircling the fountain. You nodded in response, not wanting to be so vulnerable in such a public space. “Okay baby sounds good.” James leaned in towards you pressing his lips to yours before he scooped you into his arms before stepping into the fountain, even though it was warm ish outside the water of the fountain hadn’t had enough time to truly heat up because the water that lapped at his midcalf almost had him feeling bad for what he did next. Which was dropping you into the freezing cold water, keeping you upright by his hold on your shoulders before you were able to ground yourself on the floor of the fountain. With water sprouting up from the top and cascading down 4 smaller tiers reminiscent of bird baths, getting larger and larger in radius as they went down, cold water nipped at your skin. “Agh!” You shrieked, “It’s freezing!” “Calm down drama queen!” James snorted, “Little cold water never hurt anybody.” “Speak for yourself!” Screaming as James bent down to splash you with water you tried to run away resulting in you falling backwards onto your bum. “You okay baby?” James asked nervously bending down next to you, surveying your near naked body for any cuts or bruises. Your response came as you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, submerging the entirety of his body in the chilly water. He quickly pulled you down with him so that your head was submerged, your hair billowing out around you in the water. When you pulled back up to the surface your wet hair was plastered to your face. And though you were cold, wet, and maybe a little banged up your heart was aflame, this had been exactly what you needed, to run around like a little kid and lose yourself, if only for a little while. Glancing back down your jaw dropped, the light coming from the fountain walls made the shadows of the water reflect on James’ dark skin making him look even more beautiful, like something out of a book. He took your temporary lapse as an opportunity to flip you around so that he was on top of you, he thought you were always stunning but something about you beneath him made you shine like nothing else he’d ever seen. Taking good care to make sure your head didn’t bump against the fountain, and that your head was above water, he trailed kisses from your temple to your jaw. When he reached your chin the second freight train of the night hit him head on and he stuck out his tongue licking from the point of your chin, up your lips, the bridge of your nose, and up your forehead until he reached your hair line where he left one more gentle kiss. “James Potter!” You shrieked, a giggling mess, “What the hell?” He lifted himself off you so he could once again scoop you into his arms, “Come on my little water nymph, let’s get you dry, don’t need you getting sick on me.” “Think you should’ve thought about that before you dunked me into the fountain in nothing but my bra and shorts.” You retaliated to which he only rolled his eyes, before shaking his head like a wet dog. “I swear to God Potter, you’re a Golden Retriever.” “Hmh?” He asked, stepping out of the fountain. “Playful, loyal, energetic, smart.” You explained, planting a kiss on his nose. “Shaking off to dry like a fucking dog.” “You love me.” He grinned, like the thought was just now hitting him, like you hadn’t said it already multiple times that night. “That I do Potter.” You agreed as he set you down on the bench where he had laid his jacket, taking care to slip your arms into it one at a time he pulled it close to your body to keep you warm before coming up behind you, tipping your head back so he could wring the excess water out of it, taking this as an opportunity to kiss the hollow of your throat to which you hummed. Upon slipping on his previously discarded pants and shirt, an endeavor you watched very closely, not wanting to miss a second of how his muscles shifted underneath his smooth, taut skin, he sat down next to you. “It’s a beautiful night.” “That it is.” You agreed. The two of you sat there for a moment before James carefully stood up, “Where are you going Jamie? Too tired now, m’done playing.” “I know angel, come on, not gonna play, just get more comfortable.” He soothed, taking you by the hand and walking you over to a set of fairly new monkey bars. Picking you up from the bottom of your thighs he pushed you up and above his shoulders to sit on top of the monkey bars and you were reminded why it sometimes came in handy to be dating the captain of the football team. Swinging up next to you on the monkey bars he slid his arm around your shoulders, both of your legs meeting the edge of the cold metal at the bend of your knees, your bodies there down hanging off leaving the both of you on your backs staring up at the unusually starry night sky. “There’s Orion.” You lifted your arm to point out the constellation, “ Surprised we can see so many.” You marvelled. “It is rather pretty.” “‘Rather pretty’?” You gasped exasperated with the boy next to you, “It’s not just ‘rather pretty’, it's gorgeous!” You corrected with a huff, turning your visage back up towards the heavens. “Eh,” He shrugged, “I’ve seen better.” “I swear to God, James Fleamont Potter if you say ‘You’re prettier than any constellation’ I’m going to push you off these monkey bars.” A chuckle pushed its way past his lips as he brushed his lips along the part of your hair, “You know me too well don’t you (L/N).” “Yeah, I’ve got your number Mister.” James pulled out his phone to check the time, “Hey baby, it’s midnight.” He whispered in your ear, turning his phone screen so you could read the time. “Happy Saturday my darling boy.” “Happy Saturday Princess, let’s get you home.”

Note: I know in my initial ask on @/randomoutsiders you guys went home and more fluff ensued. Maybe a part two?

tagging: @randomoutsiders

#harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders era x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you

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am-i-space · 3 years

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Charlie Weasley headcanons🐉

All my Charlie headcanons (some of them are picked out from fanfics i´ve read at some point and I might add some over time)

1. He loves to sing and actually has a beautiful voice

2. I can totally see him with piercings maybe a lip ring or even nipple piercings idk

3. Several tattoos (at least 2 dragons and I think more of a Viking style if you know what I mean)

4. His hair is a bit curly and a darker orange tone

5. Likes to braid his hair to get it out of his face

6. Likes nail polish (it's always chipped because of his work and scratches it off when he gets bored)

7. Likes to wear jewelry of all kind but usually doesn't because it's impractical for work

8. Likes to wear a bit of eyeliner and smudge it a bit

9. He has beautiful brown eyes

10. He's super affectionate and loves to cuddle

11. Has many scars because he loves to cuddle with his dragons

12. All in all he's a soft boy who loves adventures

13. Loves Rock/Punk/Metal music but he also melts at sweet soft songs

14. Adopts a dog and trains him so he can come with him on adventures without getting in danger

15. He is the best Storyteller and can make everything sound like you were right there

16. He was the one who his younger siblings always begged to read them bedtime stories

17. He always did it

18. Idk why but he's closest with Bill and Ginny

19. He's an Aro Ace king

20. He absolutely adores Fleur they are best friends

21. (She calls him her Chérlie)

22. He's an early riser and loves to get up and watch the sunrise or even start working already

23. He's not the best cook but he loves baking and is great at it

24. Doesn't want to admit it but sometimes he prefers coffee over tea

25. Is a good listener but would totally get distracted by cute animals

26. He has a ton of freckles on his whole body but mostly face, shoulders, back and arms

27. He hates being sick and as long as he is just a little bit sick he'll still try to go to work (he tries to argue his dragons will keep him warm)

28. As soon as he really get's sick and that little coughing turns into a full blown cold he gets super whiney and wants to get cuddled all the time

29. He speaks several languages and loves learning about different cultures ( I think like English, French and Romanian)

30. He likes to speak French when he's only talking to Fleur not just to practice but also because he knows she misses France

31. (Also they like to make fun of other people, primarily Bill who can't speak French (or at least not well) and make it sound super flirty while talking about the weather or work)

32. He is writing scientific books about dragons and everything him and his team are learning about them that is either new and not published yet or when he notices that some books have wrong or outdated informations in them

33. He would love to be able to draw his dragons and add sketches to his notes and books but he can't draw well enough to satisfy himself to actually publish it

34. He is interested in Muggle culture (tho not obsessed like his dad) he often asks his muggleborn coworkers if they can explain him something or take him to a city and show him more of the Muggle world

35. He likes to eat. I'd say that he's like Ron but I think he has more dignity and instead he just eats a lot. He sometimes gets a bit softer around the edges but he has a good metabolism and his work always keeps him on his feet.

36. He never really thinks about how his body looks he just likes to keep fit and healthy so he can take care of dragons for as long as possible

37. He's a nervous eater and he has a sweet tooth. He loves chocolates of all kind but when he gets nervous he tends to go for chewier sweets like gummies

38. I don't think he blushes a lot I think when he gets embarrassed or nervous he tends to stutter and gets a bit clumsy

39. He used to have a bit social anxiety at school because he just isn't very good at talking to People he doesn't already know well but once he gets a connection with someone he gets comfortable and opens up

40. (He still gets anxiety as an adult that didn't just disappear but since there aren't many people at the Reserve that aren't there full time he just has his co-workers who quickly took him in and became his friends)

41. He knows how to do household spells and how to knit, Molly wouldn't let him leave without making sure he knows how to take care of himself

42. He has a messy but still readable handwriting

43. He's left handed

44. Charlie doesn't like horror movies he always gets scared but not by jumpscares more the psychological horror (and not by Monster movies because he has too much empathy for the monster)

45. I can also see him being (partly) vegetarian/vegan because he doesn't love the thought of eating animals

46. He has dimples

47. He can handle big injuries like a pro (breaking his arm won't make him leave work early) but he can't handle smaller more annoying injuries like abrasions very well and gets whiney

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley headcanons #weasley family #bill weasley #harry potter thoughts #harry potter headcanon #hphm #hphm charlie

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harrysgloves · 4 years

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Let Your Hair Down (chapter v)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 3,128

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: Harry crashes your and your daughters girls night.

warnings: Language and FINALLY THE SMUTTY THINGS okay not actual smut yet but it’s leading up to it. We got hot and heavy making out, daddy kink, choking, spanking.. you know all the goods.

a/n: Okay so the smut is being put in another chapter, don’t murder me for that! It’s my first time writing smut so it’s taking a bit longer than I thought it would.. anyways let me know if you like the chapter! xx

>>><<<

The workweek was a long and exhausting one but it definitely had its good moments. Like Harry stopping in twice to surprise you with a coffee. Something you weren't at all used to but thought was adorable as he stood awkwardly by the desk both times, looking so out of place but trying his hardest to impress you. He even took you out on your lunch break once and you hated to admit how well you two actually seemed to click and even though a month ago you were so sure you could never be with him, you felt a part of your walls start to break down the more time you spent together.

And you actually started to wonder if maybe you should give him a chance.

But now it was Friday night and couldn't have been more excited to slip on your sleep shorts and your old shirt from high school. It was a tradition in your house since the divorce to spend every Friday night with Thea, having a girls' night. Which meant pizza, Disney movies, board games, nail polish, and your favorite part; a pile of pillows in blankets in the middle of the living room where you two would curl up and cuddle before bed.

Thea was already in her own set of Princess Ariel PJs. She sat in front of the DVD cabinet, trying to find the movie she wanted to watch while you guys ate when there was a knock at your door. You quickly made your way for it, tying your hair up in a messy bun as you walked.

"Thea go find my wallet please." You said as you walked through the living room. Thea jumped at the opportunity to help you out whenever she could and made her way for your purse when you threw the front door open.

The smiling, charming, green-eyed guy in front of you was definitely not the pizza man and you couldn't help but smile at his own set of sweats he was wearing. He definitely had his pjs on and you had a sneaking suspicion that Thea had invited him since he had his guitar with him in one hand and a box of pizza in the other.

"Stopped the pizza guy on the way up." He said nodding towards the box in his hand and you couldn't do anything else but smile at him. You had no idea how someone could be so sweet.

"Was told I had to wear pjs if I wanted to come over. Oh, and I have to play her song for her before bed." He smiled as you stepped sideways and held the door open for him. That child of yours was just as sneaky as her Aunt Sarah.

"Thea!" You sang out and she rounded the corner, sliding in her socks on the hardwood floor when she stopped.

"HARRY! You came! You came!" She yelled excitedly, abandoning your wallet on the counter as she took off and hugged Harry around the legs. A small 'umpf' coming from him when she almost knocked him over.

"Thea," You said, pulling her attention back to you as you shot her your mom look. "You gotta tell me when you invite people over."

"But momma," She sighed, not letting go of Harry's legs. "It's just Harry and he promised to let me practice painting his nails at Uncle Mitch's." She pouted and if you weren't so good at ignoring it you would have easily let it slide. Your quirked your eyebrow at her, not wanting to let this go but not wanting to get into it with her in front of Harry.

"Sweetheart, your mum's right." Harry said as he leaned down to her height to talk to her, completely catching you off guard. Most people never agreed with you when you disciplined her in front of them.

"You should have asked before telling me to come here. Gotta promise you won't do that again."

"Promise." She said in a dramatically sad voice.

"Good now if you're momma says it's fine, I'll stay." He smiled as he looked up to you and Thea turned around with a big pout on her face. Her hands clapped together in a pleading way and her big lip out.

"Pleeeeease?" They both asked at the same exact time and you knew you couldn't say no even if you wanted to. They were just too cute.

"Okay you can crash girls night." You said taking the pizza from Harry's hand and sitting it down in the living room as Thea squealed, happy you let him stay. She pulled him over to the movie cabinet and had him pick out his favorite Disney movie. Insisting he get to pick it since he's the guest.

You pulled out the paper plates and napkins from the kitchen and walked back into the living room as Thea popped in the Little Mermaid into the DVD player. You smiled over to Harry, not sure if he picked it cause it was actually his favorite or if it was because he noticed Ariel on Thea's PJs. Either way it was cute.

You leaned back against the couch when you sat on the floor. Harry sat beside you, doing the same until Thea moved directly in between you two, wiggling her butt to make more room. You laughed a little as Harry looked over her to you and you shrugged your shoulders.

The movie played and you all ate pizza and then moved onto board games and eventually nail painting.

"You should have let momma paint them for you." Thea sighed as she accidentally painted the top of Harry's whole finger instead of just his nail. You looked up from painting your own nails to look at the damage done but smiled down at her.

"You just gotta wipe it off with a paper towel. You're doing a great job." You encouraged her to keep going after showing her how to wipe the messed up part of the nail polish off.

"Are your nails going to match mine?" Harry asked as he looked up towards her, while she stayed hyper-focused on painting Harry's nails, her tongue poked out of her mouth every so often as she tried her best to paint straight.

"But I can't paint my own nails good yet." She said, never taking her eyes off what she was doing.

"Well, I can paint them for you." Harry said as Thea finished his last nail. They definitely weren't the best but she did a good job for her first time. She pushed the bottle of nail polish toward him and laid her hands flat over the towel you had laying down on the floor to catch any fallout.

"Okay, we can match." She smiled as Harry got to work painting her tiny nails the teal color Thea had picked out for Harry. You smiled down at your own nails, trying your best to hide how happy you were right now. You never imagined yourself in this situation but as you sat with both of them it felt weirdly… natural.

After everyone's nails dried and Harry sang Thea her song, it was time for her to go to bed. Luckily, she was easy to put down and was out in less than 15 minutes. You quietly closed her bedroom door behind you as you walked out to the living room but stopped in your tracks. Harry had picked up everything from the night for you.

"You didn't have to do that." You said but still smiled. It was amazing to not have to worry about cleaning up when you were so ready to wind down and relax.

"Wanted to." He said, patting the spot on the couch next to him, some reality tv show playing gently in the background.

"Hold on." You walked over to the kitchen and took down two wine glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine, opening it before walking back into the living room. If you were going to have a full girls' night with him, he had to have the full experience.

"Once she's asleep I usually finish off girls night with a drink and paperwork." You sat down the glasses on the coffee table that was now moved back into its proper spot. You poured you both a glass and set the bottle down. Picking up your glass and plopping down on the couch with a sigh.

Harry quickly picked up his own glass and sat back draping his other arm around the back of the couch, directly behind you. You took a big drink from your cup as his eyes scanned your whole apartment and finally settled on the record collection you had sitting out.

"Got anything good?" He asked taking a sip from his own glass and nodded towards the records.

"Got Fine Line if that's what you meant." You teased and he barked out a laugh.

"I meant other than that." He said getting up to go through the album's but he didn't get very far through it before he pulled out your Up All Night album.

"Always knew you were a fan." He laughed silently as you sat more embarrassed than you thought was ever possible.

"Shut it Harold. I was a proud Louis girl." You snapped back causing him to whip around and glare at you.

"Wow, love, know how to go right for the low blows." He tsked as he put the album back and pulled out a Fleetwood Mac one and placed it on your record player, making sure the volume was down before placing the needle on it.

"Never claimed to be nice." You said biting your lip to stop the grin from breaking out across your face at his slightly annoyed look.

"Can't wait to tell Lou I'm chasing after someone who wants him more." He sat back down on the couch in his previous position but you snuggled up slightly closer to him. Your knees pulled to your chest but you leaned your side in close to him as you took another drink from your glass.

"God, don't tell him that!" You shrieked at the thought as you sat down your now empty glass on the table beside Harry's mostly full one.

"Afraid he won't want to be your boyfriend after that?" He grinned noticing you had gotten flustered as he leaned closer to you and tickled your sides.

"Harry!" You said pushing his hands away from you quickly as you laughed and he joined in.

"Come on, love, tell me who else is on your celebrity top 5." He said, still tickling you as you tried hard to get away. You started to stand up but he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back down to the couch.

"No way am I telling you that!" You said through giggles, trying to wiggle your way away from him as he straddled your waist to keep your legs from kicking him. Hovering completely over you to keep tickling your sides.

"I'm not stopping till you tell me."

"Okay! Okay!" You squealed pushing his hands down and he immediately stopped tickling you, and rested both of them on either side of your head.

"God, this is stupid, you better not tell anyone. Especially Mitch." You said jabbing your finger at his chest.

"Promise. Now tell me or I'll start again." He said threateningly and you immediately covered your face and let out a groan.

"Luke Hemmings, Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans, Matt Schultz…" you rambled quickly into your hands. You knew he could still hear you by his laughing.

"Hemmings? Really?" He asked pulling your hands down to see your face.

"Hey! Don't talk shit." You started at him, trying to defend your boy.

"'M not. Just surprised. Who's the last one?" He asked as he laid his hands back by your head. You immediately covered your face again but he nudged your hands with his nose, trying to get you to tell him.

"No, it's too embarrassing." You said not budging your hands.

"Y/N, come on." You could hear the smile in his voice and wanted to throat punch him. Smug bastard. You refused and you didn't speak one word. Which meant he started tickling you again.

"GORDON RAMSAY OKAY?" You yelled as you grabbed his hands and pulled them in front of you.

"Wat?" He said laughing so hard the word barely came out.

"I know but listen, he'd make the best after sex food and a girl's gotta eat!" You clamped your hands back over your heated face and Harry literally shook with laughter.

"I didn't beat out Gordon Ramsay in your list?" He asked, still laughing.

"Hey! You're not a Michelin star chef!" You said getting defensive over your list.

"Yeah but he's old enough to be your dad."

"Oh, so we're kink-shaming now?" You quirked your eyebrow, teasing Harry but the sharp breath he drew in, let you know you hit a nerve. Oh. So he was into that.

A big smug grin made its way across your face as you looked up to him with your big doe eyes. Your brain already coming up with a thousand ways to tease him back after he embarrassed the hell out of you. You gripped onto his wrist tighter and pulled him down towards you, his green eyes widening at your sudden movement.

"What's wrong Harry?" You asked in the sweetest softest voice you could put on. "You wanna be my daddy?"

"Stop." He whined and buried his face into your shoulder but you weren't having any of that. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the fact your hormones were raging any time he was remotely near you that made you throw common sense right out the damn window.

"Why daddy? You don't like it?" You whispered directly in his ear, biting the side of his neck as you pushed your hips up into his.

He pulled his hand free from your grasp and placed it over your neck, squeezing the side of it. His eyes were completely lust blown and you were proud of yourself for getting this type of reaction from him but when his lips slammed on yours all thoughts of payback left your mind.

He was ferocious with his kiss, demanding. His lips were everything you had been dreaming about and as his tongue traced the bottom of your lip you didn't hesitate once to open for him. Moaning softly as his tongue seemed to move perfectly in sync with your own.

He pulled back from the kiss. Looking shocked that he had done it and quickly removed his hand from your neck but as your chest heaved up and down, you didn't want him to stop. You lifted your face up and captured his lips again.

This time it was his time to surprise you as he lifted you up from the couch and moved to sit with you straddle him. You couldn't help the involuntary rotation of your hips as you got settled on top of him. His hands immediately went to your messy bun, taking the hair tie out of it and throwing it somewhere in the room. His fingers laced into the back of your hair as he pulled you back down to him for an earth-shattering kiss.

Your hands rest on his chest as your lips moved so well together you couldn't help the small moans that left you. You were trying your hardest to not grind against him again but the electricity he was shooting down your spine with just a simple kiss was driving you insane, especially when he took your bottom lip between his perfect teeth, biting it lightly. Tired of his teasing you sat back down on him, moving your hips back and forth to get any type of relief you could. When you felt his growing bulge, you couldn't help but smirk.

"Got a roll of quarters in there?" You leaned back slightly from him, resting your forehead against his own. His hands ran from your hair all the way down your back and thighs, coming back up to rest on your ass before he gave you a harsh spank through the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. His hands went back to your waist, digging in tightly, as he pushed your hips down onto him again.

"Who said you could stop, love?" He questioned as your head fell forward into his neck as you tried to hide your moan.

"Fuck." You whimpered as his erection dragged across your clothed clit. You wanted so much more, needed it. You moved your lips to his neck kissing softly up to his ear.

"Bedroom?" You whispered to him as he kept your hips rotating around him. Your underwear were about to be completely soaked through and if he wasn't going to get you off you would gladly kick him out and finish the job yourself.

He groaned the second the word left your mouth. Your lips ghosting over his ear so he was able to hear every small breathy moan he was dragging out of you.

"Dirty girl." He said spanking your ass again, his rings biting into your skin, and he quickly rubbed his large hand over the place that you were sure was turning red.

"You got no idea." You whimpered softly at the feeling of his hand soothing the sore skin of your bum. It had been so long since you'd gotten laid. Sex stopped way before your divorce was finalized and you hadn't been with anyone else since. You weren't sure how much teasing you could take. You needed him, now.

"You're killin' me." He groaned laying his head back on the couch and pulled you back from his shoulder to look at him. He already looked like a complete mess, making you feel better for not being the only desperate one in this situation.

"Y'sure about this?" He asked, gently brushing back the few strands of hair that fell across your face. You didn't want to sit and debate over all the thoughts going through your head about if this was a good idea or not. You simply nodded your agreement but he wasn't having it, his large hand moved from your hair to your jaw, immediately getting your attention, and drawing a whimper from you. If you knew he was going to be this dominating you would have decided to do this a long time ago.

"Need to hear you say it darling." His grip was still on your jaw.

"Please daddy." You moaned, laying on his shoulder as your nails dug into his chest over his shirt. "Please fuck me."

#Harry Styles #harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles x Y/N #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #mine #LYHD

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skycollides · 4 years

Note

If you write for Tiggy (if not then EZ!) one where he’s being kinda pissy and rude to reader his gf and she doesn’t say anything about it, but the others confront him? Then he like does her nails or something for her lol tyyy

Painting Nails and Spilling Beans

Ez x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Warning: swearing , heartbreak, happy end

Words: 1.983

You’ve been worried about your boyfriend Ez for a week now. He’s acting n to his usual self. Not having a proper conversation only short answers and when you ask him what’s wrong- the answer is aways nothing and you can’t stand it. He usually tells you when somethings bothering and you find a solution for the problem together but not this time. On top of that he hasn’t been at home for 2 days now and you’re getting worried since he isn’t answering any of your calls. So you decide to text Angel hoping he can tell you about his whereabouts.

Hey Angel,

do you know where your

brother is. I can’t get a

hold of him?

Hey Y/n,

yes I do. We’re all

here at the clubhouse.

Come over and join the

party. I have missed

having you around.

Great so he can party with the guys but not return your calls. Is the first thing that comes to your mind after reading Angels answer. You get dressed and do your make up before heading to the scrap yard. Once you arrive you already hear the music blasting and see people outside of the clubhouse. It looks like the party started hours ago. A voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

’’Hey sweetheart’’ you hear Bishops voice.

’’Hey Bish’’ you say and give him a hug.

’’It’s good to see you. It’s been awhile’’

’’That’s true. Have you seen Ez somewhere?’’

’’Yes they’re inside. Go on we can catch up later.’’he smiles.

’’Thank you Obispo. Yes definitely.’’ you say and return his smile.

You head inside the clubhouse and hear Angels laugh. You look in the direction where it’s coming from and see Ez there with him so is Coco.

You make your way over and Angel is the first one to notice you.

’’Hey stranger! I’m happy you made it’’

’’Hey guys good to see you. Erm Ez can I talk to you?’’ you ask him and he completely ignores you continuing talking to Coco. Your face drops and Angel has a confused look on his face. He looks at you and you shake your head not wanting to spill your and Ez’s problems there.

’’Ez I gotta talk to you!’’ you say louder and grab his arm. He shakes your hand off his arm and looks at you before he starts to speak.

’’Can’t you take a hint. What do you think why I haven’t been home? I don’t wanna talk to you. Hop off my dick for goodness sake and leave me alone. Go and annoy someone else.’’ he says rudely before he gets up to get a new beer. You stand there not understanding what’s going on. He never raised his voice at you or been so rude to you before. Tears are streaming down your face and Angel tries to hug you but you move backwards. You turn around and leave the clubhouse in a hurry. You practically run to your car trying to get away from there a fast as you can.

As soon as you get home you go straight to your bedroom locking the door behind you before you let yourself fall onto your bed and cry yourself to sleep.

After you left: Clubhouse

’’What the fuck was that?’’ Coco asks confused.

’’I have no fucking idea. All I know is that she is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.’’ Angel says not understanding what is going on with his brother. Seeing you in tears breaks his heart. He has seen you as the little sister he never had ever since Ez brought you to the family dinner about a year ago.

Bishop enters the clubhouse and make his way to Angel and Coco.

’’Is there a reason why Y/n left in a hurry crying?’’ he asks with an eyebrow rising

’’My brother is an asshole I thinks that pretty much sums up what happened.’’ Angel says.

Ez comes back and the 3 men stare at him.

’’What?’’he asks.

’’What? This all you gotta say? What the hell is wrong with you?’’ Coco says.

’’Nothing and I would appreciate it if you all would stop ask me this all the time’’ he says and storms out of the clubhouse. The three of them stare at each other not used to Ez acting like this.

’’I’ll talk to him’’ Angel says and leaves the clubhouse. He sees the lights on in Ez’s trailer so he walks there opens the door and slams it shut behind him.

’’I talk you listen Ezekiel. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you but you need to stop lashing out on everyone like this. There is something wrong we ll can see it. You can say there is nothing wrong as often as you want but none of us believes you. It is not our fault that you feel like this and especially not Y/n’s. She is worried about you because she loves you and you act this way? Dud be happy you have a woman like her in your life. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. I won’t have it. She’s like the little sister I never had and I hate so see her like his all sad and shit Ez get it together!’’ Ez looks up to his older brother and Angel sees the change in his eyes. Tears are starting to form.

’’I fucked up didn’t I?’’ he asks his brother quietly.

’’Yes you did but we can fix this. You stay here and tomorrow morning you go home and talk with Y/n tell her finally what’s bothering you if you’re not comfortable talking to me about it. But more importantly apologize to her.’’ Angel says and pats his shoulder before leaving Ez alone in his trailer.

Next Day - Your Pov.

You wake up with a bad headache from all the crying before. You take fresh clothes and make your way towards the bathroom hoping the painkillers are still there. You reach the bathroom and open the door and there he is. Ez is standing in the middle of the bathroom looking at you with wide eyes. You drop your clothes wanting to leave Ez stops you and pulls you in his arms.

’’I’m sorry mi reina. You don’t deserve the shit I put you through the past week and especially not what I did last night. I feel ashamed for how I talked to you last night. All I can do is apologize and promise you it won’t happen again baby. I love you so much.’’ he end his speech with kissing your head. You look up to him and see tears in his eyes. You give him a short kiss on the lips and say:

’’Be happy I love Ezekiel.’’ you say and he lets go of you.

’’Wanna hop in?’’ he says nodding towards the bathtub and now you realize your surroundings.

The tub is filled with water and there are candles standing there along with a cup of your favorite tea. You nod and get undressed before you sit down and lean back with your eyes closed.

’’Mind if I join you?’’ he asks but you turn him down.

’’What makes you think I want you in here with me after last night’’ you and his smile fades.

’’I was suffering last night now it’s your time to suffer Ezekiel. Go and get chair.’’ and Ez dies as he’s told hoping it will help him to get out if the dog house.

Once he returns you open your eyes and look at him.

’’Can you hand me a painkiller? My head is killing me’’ you say and once again he’s does as he’s told.

’’Now Ez over there’’ you say and point your finger to the box where you keep all your nail polish.

’’open the box get the purple one and please start doing my nails’’ you say and look into his eyes. He nods and gets the purple nail polish before sitting down. He takes your hand and give you a massage. After he is done he kisses the back of your hand and starts to paint your nails. When he is done you look at your hand and you’re quit happy with the result.

’’Wow I’m impressed Ez. More hidden talents I should know of baby?’’ you say with a smile.

’’Well you’ve got a lifetime to find out Y/n’’ he says and you nod.

’’Sounds good’’ you say before turning in the tub sitting now on the other side so he can start with your other hand. After he finished the second hand he put the polish back to where it belongs and takes the chair back to the kitchen. He shortly returns to you and you’re already out of the tub wrapped up in your fluffy towel. You open your arms for Ez and he glad excepts your hug.

’’Thank you! I really needed this’’ you say and kiss his lips. He returns the kiss taking your head in his hands pulling you closer. You move back and sit down on the floor. He looks down at you and you ask him to sit next to you. Ez sits down and you start to speak.

’’Will you tell me what’s going on now?’’ you ask and he nods.

’’You read about the guy in the newspaper the one who killed himself?’’ he says and you nod.

’’It wasn’t suicide. I made hit look like it. He became a threat to the Galindos and Emily asked me to do something about it. I wasn’t supposed to kill him. It was an accident you have to believe me.’’ he practically begs. You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You’re more shocked about the fact that he is still talking to his Ex than the fact that he killed someone.

’’I don’t know what to say Ez.’’ you say shaking your head before getting off the floor, taking your clothes and leaving the bathroom. You head to the bedroom and close the door behind you. Once you’re dressed you pull out a pack of cigarettes and head out to the back yard. You sit down and light one up. You usually don’t smoke only when you’re completely stressed out which is now the case. Your thought are running wild. Is he cheating on you? How long has he been talking to his Ex behind your back? Do the others know? A bunch of questions are that stress you out even more. You hear the door open and Ez makes his way towards you. He sits down you ask him the questions that have been haunting you for the past 15 minutes.

’’Are you cheating on me? with Emily?’’ you ask anxiously.

’’No mi reina I would never do you hear me never I swear.’’ he says.

’’Does anyone know what you did?’’

’’Only Emily. I didn’t tell her but it was clear to her that it wasn’t suicide. The only other person who knows is you baby. I trust no one like I trust you. You’re the only one I completely open up to. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you with this shit. So I thought pushing you away I wouldn’t feel the urge to tell you. I love you Y/n!’’

’’Do me a favor and stay away from her Ezekiel. She is up to no good. And please don’t push me away like this ever again. I love you Ez more than you know.’’ you say and lean your head on his shoulder. The both of you sit there in silence simply enjoying each others company. You’re happy Ez finally told you what’s bothering him now the both of you can move on from what’s happened.

Taglist:

@everyhowlmarksthedead

@mayans-sauce

@justatiredfool

@lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo

@queenbeered

@ocetevasgirl

@spookys-girl

@charcoocheurie

@nadinesabre

@starrynite7114

@angelreyesgirl

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #ez x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #jd pardo

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complexptsdgirl · 3 years

Text

It’s funny, I am still angry at my mother….I’m a 35 year old woman and still pissed at my mom. It’s really tough though. I’ve hated my mother since birth. She’s just a narcissist and I really don’t even know if she ever loved me. I don’t think she’s capable of loving anyone unless they are paying her way to live.

She had the worst punishments growing up. She has locked me in my bedroom, slapped me across the face, bit me, made me eat soap, throw/break things and make me clean them up, throw away my favorite things etc… I remember that I bought her a Mother’s Day gift of a lamp and it wasn’t the lamp she wanted or something to that effect and she chucked it across the room & it shattered. She then told me to clean it up.

She was also very very very strict. I was not allowed to have a boyfriend until I was 18, I was never to wear makeup or nail polish, tampons were not allowed because they were for sluts, any diary would be read and thrown in my face, I couldn’t ever really go out and play with friends, dances were forbidden as well.

It all really sucked to live with her. When I was about 12 or so, my parents finally split. Even though I was being mollested at that point my my dad, I didn’t understand what was going on and I was really close to my dad. He allowed me to go dances, drink alcohol, have a boyfriend, go to concerts etc…. But it all came with a price of showing my boobs or other horrible things like letting him look at my vagina, taking Polaroids etc… (I also wonder what happened to those Polaroids and if they were sold so he could get money for alcohol. God I hope not.) It wasn’t until I was 16 that I understood what was going on and what he was doing. I though it was hilarious to whip my boobs out….ugh I hate that my mom was so bad that my dad was the good parent…. But he really wasn’t. When I was a teenager, I hardly ate because my father would spend the money on Natural Ice cases of beers. There was usually no heat in the winter either which just sucked because I lived in a very cold area in the winter. Just complete neglect.

Anyway, at about 13, my mom asked if I wanted to move down with her to Florida. (So she could mooch off the father she just met.) Obviously I didn’t want to go with her. She’s just too much to handle. Then, when I was 15/16 she decided to move back and mooch of my dad… that was awful. She didn’t live there that long and moved into a rooming house. We have never liked each other and from the time I was 18, we had very little contact. Every time we did, she would just get crazy again and I had to shut her out or she shut me out.

Through the years we have attempted to communicate, but many times she would ignore me and want nothing to do with me. She’s still mooching off of people and refuses to work. I really hate everything about her. She told me she did heroine once or twice…. Ok, can people really only do it once or twice?? I don’t trust her at all. She has 2 grandchildren that I will never let her see. Now what pisses me off is that I tried to have my mom at my wedding, I tried reaching out and was ignored, I tried reaching out to her when her area had hurricanes, but my mother never reached out to me during the pandemic and that hurts horribly. As a mom, I just don’t understand and it makes me angry. The fucking world stopped and you still just give a fuck about you.

I thank my lucky stars I’m nothing like my parents and I would give my kids the world and I would go without so they could have. I have completely broke the cycle and I couldn’t be prouder of myself and the amount of work I have done to become the woman I am today.

#healing #mental health #living with ptsd #complex ptsd #narcisistic #trauma

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joyfulsongbird · 4 years

Text

Bruises And All- Chapter 6

Eurydice is still out of her depth in this new place, and especially overwhelmed in Orpheus’ presence. Not that she wants to get away from him, the exact opposite, actually.

here’s the link to Chapter 5!

EURYDICE doesn’t like the dark. She decided that long ago, but here, where the rain pelts against the window not too far away from her head and the moon covered by storm clouds, she is more than worried about what it contains. there are no stars, there is no moon, it’s pitch black in this room that smells of that boy. it smells like Orpheus, like old wood and the faint metallic smell of guitar strings. she can hear the wind blowing through each crack of the house, she curls up against herself in this twin bed, pulling her knees to her chest.

she trembles, shivers go up her spine as she tries to contain all of her body heat under these thin covers. her body does not want to cooperate with her, so finally, finally, she convinces herself that sleep is not happening and gets up, dragging a quilt with her along the way and wrapping it about her shoulders.

she doesn’t know exactly where she’s going or why but anything is better than lying stagnant at the mercy of the dark. she’ll just wander this building until her legs are so tired she can’t stand on her own two feet anymore. It's an old technique she’s used for a long time: no bad dreams if you don’t sleep, no being afraid of the dark if you’re sitting at candle light. no, she’s not afraid of the dark, she just doesn’t like it. she just always likes to be able to see her fingers when her hand is held out in front of her, she likes that assurency. that she’ll always be able to be covered in light.

her feet drag on the floor as well as the blanket as she carries with her. her feet are blocks of ice, numb against the scrape of the wood. she has calluses even on the bottoms of her feet, where do those come from?

Eurydice expects it to be dark when she gets downstairs but there’s a faint golden glow flowing out from behind the bar, as she turns the corner, her eyes catch a candle. with wax dripping down onto the saucer it sits on, not even a proper candle holder. they are poor, she can see that, with candles in teacup saucers because they don’t need teacups in a bar.

he’s leaning against the bar, a drink in his hand.

oh my god oh my god what’s he holding he’s holding it over my head my head hurts my clothes smell like whiskey mom’s gonna be able to tell she’s gonna know she’s gonna know she's gonna know she's gonna-

The clink of the glass wakes her from the breath revere. and when she glances towards it, she sees that the liquid is clearly not whiskey or alcohol of any kind. it’s white and thick, more opaque than any cocktail. He drinks warm milk when he can’t sleep... of course. of course he’s innocent like that.

“good morning.” the side of lip quirks up to the side nervously, an attempt at a joke. She gives a small courtesy smile.

“I didn’t think anyone would be awake.” she says under her breath.

“me neither.” he replies, taking another small swig of milk. “mister Hermes usually lets me spend the night down here when I can’t-”

“I can leave.”

“no! no- no, that’s totally ok!” he stumbles to reassure her, taking two steps towards her and one step back. Still one step forward, she acknowledges that in her mind. she waits for her body to move backwards away from him, but she doesn’t. she lets it be like that. one step forward. “it’s lonely, anyways. it’s nice to have company... for once.”

“don’t you have you have your-your- mister Hermes and your aunt and uncle and everyone.” she says, trying to point to how lucky he is. with this family at fingertips length, with people just up the street who would throw themselves in front of a train for him.

“yes. yes, of course, I just mean... it’s different... with you.” the tips of his ears are turning pink, and she feels the urge to back away rising in her again. “sorry. sorry, I was just about to make some tea when you came down? do you want any?”

“uh- yeah, I’d like that.” she itches the back of her neck, feeling strangely warm. tea would be nice, to give her something to do with her body while she stands there in front of this boy. who looks at her... just looks at her. He fills a kettle with water from a sink over against the wall and puts lights on a stove quickly with a match before putting the kettle over the fire.

“Here, let me-” he goes all the way around the bar and picks up two of the stools under his arms and carries them over to the other side. He sets it down, brushing it off quickly even though there’s no dust to be seen. “there, um, have a seat.”

she’s never known a gentle man that she can remember. “how old are you, Orpheus?”

Hermes already told her but she asks anyway. “I’m 19.” he says absently.

“did you go to school?”

“for awhile, I dropped out when I was 15.”

“why?”

It's the first time she’s seen him tense around her. He shifts from foot to foot, nerves rattle through his entire body. He reads like an open book but she can’t quite figure out the meaning under the words. “I- I wasn’t a very good student.”

He's an awful liar.

she scratches the top of the bar with her black nail polish fingernails. the silence falls around them like blankets of snow, covering her body in a fuzzy cold that infiltrates her entire body and soul.

“did... did you go to school?”

“no,” she murmurs. “no, I didn’t.”

he turns around then, concern etched across his every feature. “never?”

something in her rises up. “I’m not stupid, I-I know things, okay? I know math and all that, I can read, and all that, I just never went to... to a building. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said that, I didn’t mean that.” he rushes to say right away. the water starts to steam on the stovetop, he turns back to that as he continues speaking. “Who taught you, then? if... if you still learned.”

she doesn’t want to answer, so she doesn't. He slides a steaming cup of tea to her. He nods and says what she couldn’t get out. “you taught yourself?”

Eurydice nods. shame is laced through her entire body, from the hands that cold the hot mug, to the tips of her hair that brush just in front of her eyes, to feet that are linked behind the bars of the stool. this shame always sits under her skin, always bubbling under the surface, she hates when it overflows into the visible eye. she doesn’t cry when she feels shame, but she sinks into herself. she falls back into habits she hates. she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t make eye contact.

“that’s alright, that’s fine,” he sits across from her, also holding a mug of steaming hot water. “you’re probably smarter than me, I never... I don’t know anything past the eighth grade.”

she wants to drink something stronger but knows he’d never let her.

“at least you have the arts to fall back on,” she says, as if they were discussing their careers. “at least you have some skill.”

“I bet you have a lot of skill,” he replies. “I bet you’re good at a lot of things.”

“depends on how you define ‘good” I guess,” she mutters. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“okay.” he says, stopping himself immediately. “what do you want to talk about? or... we don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.”

she grips the mug harder in her grip, she won’t let her muscles relax because then she’ll start shaking.

he’s getting too close.

if she scooted her chair forward about a foot and a half, their knees would touch. Just the thought of that sends panic signals up her spine, creeping into her skull like spiders. tentative thoughts of just getting up and going. going, until she’s out the door. going until she’s lost herself in a sea of tranquility and she never- if she goes she will never have to worry about touch anymore.

if she goes, she won’t need touch anymore. That's what she wants. That's what she’s always wished for. for her fingertips to not feel what is underneath them. for her eyes to never water. for her body to numb and dull and lose all feeling. she doesn’t want to die, she just wants to live in a world without color. without texture. in a play doh, pillow soft, smooth world where nothing hurts... and there’s no one to hurt. she can’t possibly remain here where this boy resides, knowing full well she will hurt him.

“I-I don’t...” she doesn’t know what she wants anymore. she doesn’t know why she’s here.

“I’m cold.” she admits.

“oh!” he jumps out of his chair. “it’s super warm down in the basement, where the furnace is. we keep a sofa down there, if you’d want to go. it’s really cozy.”

“I- um, alright.” she slips off of the stool, quilt still wrapped around her shoulders. He's so eager. something in her tells her to stop, to not go down there with him, but the other part, the part that watched him drink goddamn warm milk in a bar follows him willingly. with his open palms and warm eyes, she follows him. with a swift look over his shoulder to make sure she’s following, he leads across the bar to a sidedoor.

“watch your head when you reach the bottom.” he warns, before descending into darkness.

it’s pitch black down there. no way.

“Orpheus!” she calls, hugging herself close. “Orpheus, there’s a light down there, right?”

A pause. “Orpheus?”

silence for a brief moment, a moment that lasts too long. where her heart stutters and she’s quite sure something has happened to him.

“the electricity is out, I’m just lighting some candles. one second! you can come down, it’s not as dark as it looks!” his unaccompanied voice floats up the stairs.

it’s not as dark as it looks, that’s what he said. she reminds herself as she takes the first step, the quilt drags at her feet and she lifts it, careful not to trip. Each step is easier than the last, as she slowly walks into the warm darkness below. and as she reaches the bottom, her body quivering slightly in what she might call fear, she realizes that he’s right. that when she looks to her right, she sees him, standing there, all tall and gangly; leaning over a small table lighting a candle. not far from him is a navy blue couch, only big enough to fit maybe three people, if they squeezed together. and in the far corner to her right, the large furnace emits warmth through this whole room.

he smiles at her and waves her over. she does. her body feels much warmer now, with the furnace and the quilt wrapped about her and the fact that the floor here is covered in this semi-soft carpeting. she could stay down here for a long time, this is a different world than up there. with it’s soft lighting and thicker atmosphere. She highly prefers this to reality.

“you can sit, if you want.” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I left your tea up there by accident, I’m just gonna get it.”

“oh-” but he’s gone before she can even say that she doesn’t need her tea. she hesitates for a moment before meandering over to the couch and sinking into it. The cushions are large and soft and allow her to just sink into it, making her feel very small and fragile. like she’s surrounded by soft, pillow-y clouds.

He runs down the stairs, or walks as fast as he can down the stairs while holding a still steaming mug of tea.

“here you go!” he says, handing it to her. She holds it gingerly for a moment and takes a small sip.

“thank you.” she allows a small, tight lipped smile to slip through. and he beams back at her, as if he just competed in a world class competition for being the sweetest boy alive and came back with 1st place. She leans forward and places the mug on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

she leans back, tucking her legs underneath her, trying to get comfortable. she can’t seem to. everything feels too- too big. every single movement is multiplied by ten in this small space, every word she utters seems to have some meaning underneath. maybe it does. maybe it doesn’t. but looking up at Orpheus, she can’t help a warm feeling pool in her chest. she recognizes it, a want, a part of her wants to pull him close. it’s only an animal attraction, there’s nothing really real about it.

“are you going to sit? or just stand there the entire night?” he blinks at her, as if he really had been going to do just that.

“I- uh- okay.” he lowers himself to sit beside her, discomfort laced through every single one of his movements. she feels guilty almost immediately.

“Orpheus, if you don’t want to sit that’s fine, I-”

“no, no,” he begins, twisting the hem of his shirt around his fingers. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

This gives her a pause. “hurt me?”

“not... not physically hurt you. you just seem... I don’t know, scared, and I don’t want to intrude on your space or anything.” It's touching, even if a little over cautious, that he’s thinking this deeply about her needs and feelings. the thought buzzes in the back of her head: no one had ever done that before.

“you aren’t.” she promises and reaches towards him to cover his hand with hers, or partially cover it. “see? totally fine.”

he gives her that goofy grin again and that feeling bubbles up again, a dozen observations flood her mind. how warm and calloused his skin is, how such a kind boy could be so hard worked. It was always her experience that the men who bragged of all of their hard work and calluses were the cruelest. it surprises her that she can even touch this boy, because when she looks him right in the eyes, she can’t help but think of a different boy. a boy with different eyes, who had no hope but war brewing in his chest. but touching him... being this close... She can acknowledge their differences. Orpheus is leaner, his eyebrows aren’t as prominent on his face, and when he smiles, his lips don’t curl back on his teeth like an angry dog’s. In five years, Eurydice imagines he will already have smile lines.

just a few minutes ago, she was inside her head about how close they were becoming while seated at the bar but down here it is a different realm. down here, they exist in a space without time or movement or touch. there is just them and the warmth and the couch beneath them. she doesn’t feel angry or sad or reckless or skittish, she feels... It's almost safe. almost. she feels as if she could spend hours down here and never want to leave but it’s what exists up those stairs that makes her feel uneasy. it’s what is outside that she fears. the outside where she’ll have to go to soon, the outside she’ll flee to once this storm has blown over. no matter how many offers are made, no matter how sweet this boy is, no matter how much she wants to stay, she is leaving.

That's the thought that makes her place her hand gingerly back in her lap, already missing the warmth it gave. but it isn’t a matter of “don’t get attached” it is “don’t get too close, it’ll hurt him when you go”.

it’s him.

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astoriias · 4 years

Text

{ cisgender woman, she/her } ❝ Thank god women learned to whisper / though I crave a megaphone. ❞ huh, who’s CAITRIONA BALFE? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually ASTORIA MALFOY (NEÉ GREENGRASS). she is a 47 year old PUREBLOOD witch who is CHIEF WARLOCK OF THE WIZENGAMOT. she is known for being JUDGEMENTAL, DISHONEST, COLD, RIGID, and CALLOUS but also PRACTICAL, DRIVEN, INNOVATIVE, STEADFAST and DISCIPLINED, so that must be why she always reminds me of the song TOMORROW - MINER and BLACK LEATHER BRIEFCASES, THE CLICK OF HIGH HEELS ON TILE FLOORS, THE LINGERING TASTE OF FAIRY FLOSS, BURGUNDY NAIL POLISH, AND PEARL HAIR PINS. i hear she is aligned with NO ONE so be sure to keep an eye on her.

BIO

Cursed with a blood malediction that left her and her parents preoccupied with maintaining her health throughout early childhood, Astoria grew up without direction, without passion, and without much to do or think about other than staying alive. She did what she was told and completed what was asked of her by her parents: mostly swallowing thick potions that made her head spin and remaining in bed when all she wanted to do was tumble through the lush gardens of the Greengrass estate and scrape her knees like other children. As she grew older and defied Healers’ expectations — making it past 5, then 10, then 15 — Astoria grew weary of the half-life she’d been prescribed. At Hogwarts, she followed her sister Daphne into Slytherin because she didn’t know where else to go.

It took Astoria almost a year at Hogwarts before she would speak up in class or acknowledge anyone with more than a handful of words — and each time she did her heartbeat would quicken, her face would flush. If she was called on by a professor and — Merlin forbid — got the answer wrong, her eyes would fill with tears, her gaze would shift to the floor, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. One day, outside her second-year Transfiguration class, an annoying boy named Colin saw her heavy breathing and told her about panic attacks — Astoria’s irrational fear of social situations and new people now made sense.

That same annoying boy became her close friend not long after. It was a month into study sessions by the Black Lake that Astoria Greengrass learned that her Colin, the boy who kept a camera slung around his neck at all times and was so nice to her, was Colin Creevey, yes, that Colin Creevey, who was petrified by a Basilisk a year prior for being MUGGLEBORN. Astoria found that didn’t bother her very much. Sure, she never advertised that they were friends and didn’t freely associate with Colin in public places, but he understood her position or in the very least, didn’t protest it. She even got him to join Herbology club — though she insisted that they enter and exit the greenhouse at different times and never spoke directly, his presence was a comforting balm.

Colin tried to get her to join up with the student resistance that was brewing in her third year — but Astoria knew she wasn’t the type to stir up such trouble. She couldn’t stand with the muggleborns and blood traitors no matter how right they were; she couldn’t risk losing her family. Unlike those in Dumbledore’s Army, Astoria didn’t see this conflict in terms of black and white, good vs. evil — there were plenty of others like her, struggling to find themselves in the midst of conflict, battling tradition and family expectations. She kept out of Umbridge’s way during that time. Kept out of her father’s way during that time — while he had no Dark Mark to speak of, his entrepreneurial hands passed cursed objects and ingredients for poisons to any Dark Lord-aligned wix who wanted them.

Through her friendship with Colin and her time in Herbology Club, Astoria learned she was a talented witch in her own right. Formed an identity outside of being the sick girl everyone doted on. Quietly realized that her muggleborn classmates — despite what her pureblood indoctrination taught her — were fully-fledged human beings. To someone who didn’t grow up feeling trapped in the (sometimes socially constructed) confines of a blood illness, perhaps her time in Herbology Club wouldn’t seem so transformative. But for Astoria, it was everything.

Nowadays, Astoria is still defying life expectancy estimations and is perhaps best known for her robust political career. She joined the Ministry as a pupil/intern in its Wizengamot Instruction in Magical Law Program (W.I.M.P.), and in the span of twenty-five years has climbed the ranks to barrister’s assistant, barrister, then Wizengamot member, and finally, the youngest Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot in the last hundred years. She is extremely opinionated about the runnings of the legislature and judiciary, and her past two years as Chief Warlock have been marked by her love for procedure, due process, and fairness -- essentially meaning trials are very thorough and very focused on making sure the Ministry doesn’t overstep its bounds.

BLOOD MALEDICTION

i’m truly on my bullshit and this needs its own section..........,,,,, i’m sorry

I originally started writing Astoria out of pure spite — it enraged and continues to enrage me that all we’re given about this woman is a few lines about her and an off-page (or off-stage, I guess, but Cursed Child is its own beast) death. It makes me mad that she is only defined by her role as a mother and wife to Scorpius and Draco, that she doesn’t get her own ambitions and a life of her own. The racist and sexist underpinnings of the blood malediction/Maledictus concept are par the course for JK but still, bad!

And while I can’t choose for Astoria to have this particular chronic illness and completely divorce it from those origins, I can at least eschew parts of it I don’t like and give a Astoria a rich and fulfilling life with a chronic/potentially terminal illness — not in spite of the blood curse, but because those of us with illnesses and disabilities are people with rich and fulfilling lives, wants, desires, and ambitions.

AN IMPORTANT NOTE: I try to be really careful about ableist language when I describe this blood malediction and its effects on Astoria’s life — I think that there is so much to explore regarding chronic illness and what, exactly, we constitute as ‘health’ — but I know that I can fall into the traps of my own internalized ableism. If there are terms or concepts here that make players uncomfortable and/or have harmful effects, let me know! I’m happy to make changes.

So anyway!

— origins of the blood malediction

I don’t have this fully worked out, but I think the Greengrass blood malediction stretches back a good ten generations to a very vindictive-in-her-righteous-cause-Muggleborn-witch cursing the family for their refusal to let her marry their son. It’s not limited to just the girls in the family, because I hate that, but it does affect at least one child per generation, so long as the family continues to marry exclusively purebloods — which they have continued to do, not knowing that their bigotry (though in some cases, real love!) is the reason for the curse’s spread. Astoria’s parents mistakenly believed that since the last few cases of the curse had cropped up in different branches of the Greengrass family — distant cousins living on the Continent — that their children would be spared.

— astoria’s symptoms and treatment

Since it’s a blood curse, I figure Astoria’s symptoms manifest as issues both with her blood and with her cardiovascular system at large. I’d compare it to haemophilia. Her blood itself is thin and cannot clot without healing spells and thickening potions, meaning that nosebleeds are frequent, bruising is easy, and bad cuts can be fatal. She’s at high risk for internal bleeding in her joints, and a big — though often unvoiced fear — of hers is a brain aneurysm that ruptures into a haemorrhage.

(miscarriage tw) These symptoms have waxed and waned her entire life, with particular incidents that have brought her close to death; an accident falling from the garden wall at five, a wayward spell hitting her across the face in second-year DADA, trying for a child. She doesn’t regret that last one — not at all — though it was five weeks after her miscarriage before she was able to stand unassisted, and her Healer’s face when she said “I strongly advise you to not have any more children” haunts her to this day. Scorpius’s birth, possible due to a wonderful surrogate, was alternatively the happiest day of her life. (end miscarriage tw)

Then there come the potions — a barrage of them, to be taken at specific times of day, with extras if she’s bleeding externally or feeling pain in particular areas — that come with side effects like exhaustion, headaches, and nausea. She visits St. Mungo’s once every three months to ensure that the potions are working as intended and has learned to accept her Healers chastising her for the times she skips parts of the regimen or pushes herself too far physically.

PERSONALITY

astoria!!! my love. clearly i have a lot of thoughts and Feelings about her lol,,,,,,,

there isn’t any world or timeline in which astoria would be rushing to join the death eaters -- lol, i’ve always envisioned her being extremely inquisitive and Critical of other people, their motivations, their methods -- this makes her extremely Good at Lawyering and Suspicious of Bullshit. i also have always thought that it was important for her to make a muggleborn friend or two just to really hammer the point home that pureblood nonsense is just that.

still, again, she’s not really motivated by niceness, she doesn’t have a bleeding-heart-sense-of-empathy, she’s kind of snarky and mean. her friends describe her as an acquired taste.

has a massive sweet tooth. her family is regularly concerned she does not eat enough vegetables.

adores her son. just, absolutely thinks he can do no wrong. she and draco agree that most parents think their child is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, but scorpius actually is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, so.

a note on astoria and draco: i think draco doesn’t treat her with pity or kid gloves, and has never underestimated her capacity to get shit done in light of her blood curse. and they have an honesty and rapport with each other that astoria hasn’t been able to cultivate with anyone else. they may not be very great people but they’re great partners and great parents. i luv them ok bye

STATS

GENERAL

name. astoria céline malfoy (née greengrass)

nickname. aster (reserved for use by her sister only!)

birthdate. 1 january 1982

place of birth. greengrass residence via midwifery

family. daphne greengrass (sister), draco malfoy (husband), scorpius malfoy (son)

residence. malfoy manor, wiltshire

occupation. chief warlock of the wizengamot

gender identity. woman

romantic orientation. biromantic

sexuality. bisexual

blood status. pureblood

relationship status. married

pets. a scottish terrier named hades

HOGWARTS / MAGIC

house. slytherin

extracurriculars/leadership. herbology club

allegiance. neutral/no one

n.e.w.t. grades charms (o), transfiguration (o), herbology (o), d.a.d.a (a), potions (a), arithmancy, astronomy (o), history of magic (a), ancient runes (e).

wand. willow, nine inches, unicorn hair core

boggart. tbd

patronus. also tbd! my brain hurts

magical strengths. nonverbal casting, herbology, transfiguration, ancient runes

magical weaknesses. flying, defensive spells, domestic spells

#potterintro #////this is so long #i regret nothing

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.14

Hunk drove a very hyper Pidge home. Letting her mix flavours had been a bad idea, Pidge talking the whole drive home so fast that Lance was surprised she was managing to drink her slushies in between her words. Promising his best buddy he’d fill him in the following morning, Lance felt a little awkward as he let him and Keith into his empty house. His beloved bronco wasn’t back yet, Shiro extremely lucky Lance didn’t have his phone number to hound him about taking care of his baby girl. Hovering at the base of the stairs, both men stood their awkwardly. Lance feeling weird as he knew he needed to say something, but wasn’t sure what that something was. Playing it safe, he opted for an apology. Keith’s life had been thrown in turmoil, just like Lance’s, and the man clearly missed his brother, something Lance couldn’t make better for him. Maybe if they’d met when in college, he and Keith could have been friends. Keith’s anger clearly stemmed from trauma, his repeated fixation on thinking he��d been turned very clearly said that. Lance had the feeling is had something to do with whatever happened to Shiro’s partner, but he wasn’t in the position to pry.

“Hey. I’m sorry we dragged you out. I know I was kind of a pushy, and you can probably put that down to my people pleasing personality, but I hope some part of tonight was enjoyable. It’s no easy, or fun, being on the outside, but Hunk and Pidge are good people. I’m not just using them to blend in, it was never like that. They’re both special to me. I know we’re like strangers and it’s awkward as hell living together, but I think after tonight I like you a little more than I did. I don’t think you’re a fundamentally bad person, and I’m not going to push you to talk to me. I guess what I want to say is, that I swear on Blue I’m not in the habit of hurting people. That doesn’t mean much coming from a vampire, because honestly, most of us are huuuuuuge douche canoes. But as long as you’re under my roof, I’m going to treat you like an actual human being, and not as “Keith the hunter”. I don’t know how many times I can apologise for being what I am, but I’m too much of a coward to off myself. I thinking part of my emotional growth was stunted from being turned... and, well, yeah. I’ll let you head to bed or whatever. If you can’t sleep, help yourself to whatever. I would prefer you stay out of my office for the sake of my clients, but I know you can get in there anyway... yeah... anyway, I’m headed up to bed... I’ll see you in the morning”

Lance’s undead heart leapt when Keith opened his mouth, only to fall when Keith closed his mouth and looked away. He’d probably said too much again. He was trying so damn hard, and he wasn’t exactly sure why it even mattered. Until Shiro came back, both he and Keith were left in limbo... Lance still kind of hoped that Shiro leaving Keith with him meant the older hunter wasn’t about to come for his head in the middle of the night, and that some time apart would make it easy for Shiro to see his brother was very much the human idiot he’d always been.

“How old are you?”

Lance nearly dropped the remnants of his slushy in surprise. Strawberry hadn’t been the smartest choice. Pidge had teased him about looking like a vampire for having red around his lips, and all over his teeth. Honesty was best when dealing with people in trauma

“I’m 44. In human years”

“Okay”

That was it. The limit of Keith’s vocabulary for the night. The hunter trudging towards his room, leaving Lance to walk up the stairs to his own. Stripping down and changing for bed, Blue let out a rumbled purr as she came running into his room and leapt up onto his bed to wait for him. He really must look like the lamest vampire Keith had ever met. Just a lonely vampire and his cat, living in the middle of nowhere. It was a good thing Lance didn’t mind being lame.

Lance’s dreams were horrible. He’d woken half a dozen times unable to escape the feelings flowing through his body. His teeth hurt, cutting into his lip as he huddled against his bedhead. He felt flushed with fever, arm aching as if he’d broken it. The skin had healed over the wound, but it itched so badly Lance wanted to scratch until it bled. Shivering and sick, he’d fallen back to sleep around dawn, waking with a throat feeling as though clogged with his death soil. Blue hadn’t left him, though that might not have been her choice given the door to his bedroom was closed, instead of slightly open so Blue could come and go as she pleased.

Showering only made Lance feel worse, he couldn’t get the temperature to cooperate and nearly tore the tap handle off it’s fitting trying. He ended up feeling like soggy cardboard, all wet and useless, as he towelled off and peered in the least cracked slither of mirror left. Today was definitely a day for make up. No amount of blood was going to bring back colour into his dulled skin. Being the youngest, he’d spent many a time as his older sister Rachel’s model. Mami had beaten her arse red on more than one occasion when Rachel had tried using nail polish as eyeshadow... his sister not the most skilled person to be giving anyone a make over, but his other sister Veronica had grown out of all of that kind of thing by the time Rachel had gotten old enough to be right into all frilly girly things, leaving Lance to be her victim repeatedly. After he’d turned, all of that had stopped. Initially his Papi would gently send everyone away from him, until his Mami took him by the ear and reminded him that though different, Lance was still their baby boy. When he’d been older his Papi apologised, but he never knew how good a vampire‘s memory was, that those days still stayed with Lance no matter how many years had passed. Today was not the day to be looking like a movie extra in a budget film, his whole face felt choked as he smeared his foundation on, before giving his lips a quick coat of waterproof lipstick, though humans had never really got the recipe for that right. Continuing his morning routine, he dressed as nicely as he could shirt wise, then opted for sweats on the bottom. It wasn’t like his conference call was going to be worried about his lack of proper attire when his shirt looked professional enough.

Coming downstairs, Lance darted through to his office, teeth aching all over again as he opened a bag of blood, messily drinking down the contents like he hadn’t been fed for days. Coran had said to expect a low, but this was nearing ridiculous. He wasn’t in any fit condition to entertain Keith with half hearted fighting, let alone provide legal representation to the clients trusting him in. Spilling blood across his laptop came as the final straw, Lance sinking to the floor where he balled himself under his desk, to scared to call Coran, and too scared to sit up and human. Instead he remained hidden there until his laptop started to ring, letting him know he’d spent a good three hours wallowing rather pathetically.

Before the family court, the matter took all of 15 minutes. Lance speaking smoothly, as he bounced his left leg, hands digging into his sweats hard enough that his nails had ripped through. Things would have been different if he’d known he could jump in his car and straight up to Platt, instead of this horrible feeling like he was a prisoner in his own home. The little voice in his head mocked him for not being able to pick up his phone and call Coran, paranoid over how Keith would act if Coran came running because he couldn’t keep his shit together. He didn’t want to die. Not while his Mami still lived. He didn’t want to break her heart, or prove the rest of his siblings right. He didn’t want Coran to be hurt, not that he thought Keith had the power to take Coran down... it was just... sometimes words left a wound that even the deepest blade was left dull in comparison. Keith was lashing out, hitting that target without aiming, like being caught in a spray of bullets. Coran didn’t deserve that with all the good for Lance and those like him. For Keith’s sake, Lance needed to keep all this shit secret. The hunter had signed up for his head, not his sob story.

Leaving the office, Lance headed into the kitchen. Keith at the kitchen bench trying to figure out the coffee machine. Dropping the pod in his hands, the hunter picked it back up without saying anything, but he didn’t need to. Lance knew how weak and pathetic he was, he could see it reflected in Keith’s brilliant eyes. Wordlessly he went to the cupboard, pulling out a can of wet food for Blue, Keith taking half a step away from him as he did. It stung. The not so covert action rubbed him the wrong way, not that he’d say so out loud. Pulling the ring tab back, Lance stubbed his toe on the counter as he reached for Blue’s dish. The act bringing tears to his eyes as he finally broke. Sinking down to the floor, he was showing Keith the most shameful side of him that he humanly could.

“Do you take sugar in your coffee?”

The question hung in the air, Lance’s face hidden behind his hands as he wept.

“Lance, do you take sugar in your coffee?”

Keith had said his name. Without any malice or prompting... he didn’t understand why

“I take three usually”

Why was Keith talking to him?

“Shiro says it too many, but I like three. You seem more like a one person”

“A one person”. Keith, who didn’t even think of him as human, was there in his kitchen calling him a person

“Am I really so useless that you’re wasting time on me?”

Lance regretted the harsh tone in his words. Wiping at his teary eyes, he looked up at the hunter to find him looking down on him

“Well you’re practically an animal, but... I think maybe I don’t hate you as much as I should”

Laughter bubbled up, Lance not blaming Keith for stepping back as his tears turned to laughter

“You can go fuck yourself if you’re going to be like that”

Lance’s laughter sobered, the vampire sniffling loudly. Okay. Keith was acting “Keithy” again, he could understand that

“One. Two if Pidge and Hunk are here”

Keith took a moment before a silent “oh” of realisation formed on his lips, turning back to the coffee machine as he tried to fit the pod in properly

“I... I have nightmares too”

Lance cringed. Asleep he hadn’t been able to consciously hold back. Keith had probably heard him screaming the house down, now taking pity on his undead arse

“I heard you calling for someone... friends or something. You we’re really fucking loud”

“I’m sorry”

“Who were they?”

“People who don’t matter”

They didn’t matter but that didn’t mean they weren’t always on his mind

“Nyma and Rolo?”

Lance shuddered at their names. They’d parted so long ago that it didn’t feel fair he should be forced to remember them

“People you don’t want to meet”

“I gathered from your screams. Are they the ones who turned you? Or were they friends?”

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“You say vampires never forget, does that mean you remember what happened with them?”

Lance shook his head quickly

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“So they sired you?”

Lance put his hands over his ears

“Shut up”

“If they did...”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”

Screaming in anger, Lance hated Keith in that moment for pushing. Nyma and Rolo had been his friends. The keyword being “had”. He was allowed to have things he didn’t want to talk about. Those two were in his past, not is future. Letting his head dropped back, it smacked against the cupboard without enough force to be satisfying. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to break something. He wanted to tear himself out of his own skin. Nudged with Keith’s foot, he shot a look of rage up at Keith, the hunter holding out a cup of coffee

“Drink this. Shiro said he won’t be back for a while, but he was sending someone out to watch over you until he could be”

“I don’t need watching over”

Taking the coffee cup, the handle snapped before Keith had let go completely. Pulling the mug back, the hunter cut his hand on the protruding porcelain at the bottom. Hit by the smell of Keith’s blood, Lance felt all his senses come alive with the need to feed. Both their eyes widened as they met, both in fear over the situation. Keith feared Lance was about to maul him, as Lance feared how good Keith’s blood smelt.

Lance did the only thing he could do. He ran. Keith left staring as he bolted from the kitchen, his hand snapping through the bottom of the staircase railing as the grabbed it to use his momentum to get up his stairs just that little bit faster, tripping in his rush, but pushing himself on faster in the same heartbeat. Reaching his room, he slammed the door behind him, dragging his dresser over to barricade himself in. He hadn’t needed his phone in the office, so left it up on its charge station. Snatching up the device, he copped a glance of his reflection, disgusted at the sight of himself. His hands shook as he unlocked the device, calling the only number he could, Coran. With first ring, he found he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t run to Coran for help. He couldn’t tell him there was something still wrong with him. His phone thrown in disgust where the force shattered the device on impact, and dented the floorboard it’d hit. He didn’t know what to do, but he did know he was a mistake.

#once bitten twice stupid #ashratherose

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missjosie27 · 5 years

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Hogwarts Mystery Ship Questions- David x Merula

This post is somewhat ironic given that I just posted the chapter of my story where Merula attempts to lock David in a room with Devil’s Snare haha. But I promise, the two were meant for each other. Here’s a full detailed list of their relationship. Thank you to @hogwartsmysterystory for the template once more.

1. How does their relationship develop in tandem with the Vaults? Are they a hindrance or do they bring them closer together?

A: During their first three years at Hogwarts, David and Merula were in constant competition to find the vaults, with the former always coming out on top. This infuriated Merula to no end, and she always tried to one up or undercut him in some way by almost any means necessary. Ironically, it was Madam Rakepick who altered that rivalry, as she saw the talents in both of them and used them to her advantage. By the time they enter the portrait vault during fifth year, the two are already more or less dating.

2. What’s something that they really bond over together?

A: Dueling is a favorite pastime of both teens. Merula caught David by surprised during their first year, but David’s natural talent along with his own unique determination usually give him the edge. Once a means to harm or maim each other, by sixth year it becomes a way for them to let out their frustrations and relax. Both are avid Quidditch lovers, with David joining the Gryffindor team during Year 6 as a beater and Merula joining Slytherin in Year 5 as a chaser. Each love to talk to discuss the sport. Finally, each has a sharp wit and are rather fond of sarcasm, leading to considerable banter between them, which David and Merula quietly enjoy.

3. How do they flirt with each other before dating? How does it change after they start dating?

A: David doesn’t start to seriously ‘flirt’ with Merula until late fourth year, early fifth year when he realizes her feelings for her. He enjoys teasing her, making jokes, and finds her reactions highly entertaining. For her part, Merula, not the best at public social interaction, begins a habit of glowing pink when they have an intimate or flirtatious moment together, but tries to brush it off with indifference or empty threats. After they begin dating, their flirting is more private, as David does not want to push her too hard, but during their alone time, Merula does not hold back letting him know her mutual attraction, touching him, rustling his hair, and sitting in his lap.

4. What does the rest of the Mystery Crew think about them? Do they even know about it?

A: The reactions vary. Some catch on rather quickly that the two have the hots for each other, Tulip being the first, and she is surprisingly supportive. Rowan and Ben were mortified at the prospect of their best friend falling for Merula. Rowan in particular does not understand and it drives a small rift between him and David’s friendship. The Weasley brothers, though shocked at first, encourage him to pursue Merula if it makes him happy. Ismelda struggles with the relationship in a similar fashion to Rowan, worried that David is trying to steal away her only friend. Though David and Penny kissed once, she also was quite happy for him when she found out, agreeing that the two lost themselves in a moment of vulnerability.

5. Do you think any of the Hogwarts staff ship them or think they’re cute together?

A: The staff generally don’t pay attention, though some are surprised when they happen upon the news.

6. What rumors do you think would float around Hogwarts about their relationship, if any? How would your MC react to them upon learning about them?

A: Much of the students are dumbfounded seeing the two former enemies fall for each other. Gryffindors and Slytherins in particular disapprove but Bill and Barnaby intervene to prevent any open hostilities. David, in general doesn’t care, but knows Merula’s reputation is much more at stake than his and so takes most of the hits and questions that come their way.

7. Did your MC or the character(s) you ship them with date anyone else before them? What were those relationships like?

A: Merula secretly started to crush on David after receiving a gift from him during Year 4 at Christmas. However, she had no prior boyfriends, given that most boys feared her. David, on the other hand, found himself sought after quite frequently. Girls find him quite handsome. He kissed Penny at the beginning of Year 5 while comforting her over Beatrice, however, nothing came of it and the blonde became too focused on rescuing her sister to pursue a relationship. During Year 6, David and Merula enter a rocky period as her torture at the hands of Rakepick lead her to push her boyfriend away and they break up. Tulip, whom David has always felt an attraction to, comforts him and they end up having sex. Being the ever free spirit that she is, Tulip acknowledges that she’s not a relationship person, and knows David will eventually go back to Merula. In both instances, the two remain good friends.

8. Does their relationship have a rocky start? Or is it smooth?

A: During their formative years, David and Merula hate each other’s guts. But as they grow closer, that hatred turns to love. Even so, Merula is highly insecure internally, and has a hard time accepting her own feelings, as well as the conflict she has about her own beliefs. Public displays of affection are rare, and the two did not kiss until Year 5. In Year 6, with David still angry over his brother leaving him and Merula still suffering PTSD from torture at the hands of Rakepick, the two break up, though they get back together later in the year.

9. What’s their primary love language (words of affirmation, gifts, acts of service, quality time, or physical touch)?

A: For Merula, saying ‘I love you’, is highly difficult but she has her ways of showing affection, most of which are physical: making out, cuddling, sex, etc. David, however, knows what she likes and will often buy gifts of sentimental value. Merula, once committed to changing her previous ways, does try and reciprocate. David loves it when she runs her soft fingers through his hair. Merula melts when David runs his hands up and down her legs. When going on more formal dates, Merula will wear a bow for David, something he comes to love.

10. How good are they at compromising?

A: As fifteen year olds, they’re awful. David is generally easy going and feels like he has to bend over backwards for Merula many times over, while she never does due to her stubbornness and unwillingness to open up. This leads to many shouting matches between them. But after they get back together during Year 6, an effort is made by the Slytherin to try and talk more about the problems they face. By the time they are married, both know how to hash their problems out without fighting (most of the time haha).

11. How often do they go out on dates and where do they like to go?

A: After the disaster of their first date, they agree never to frequent Madam Pudifoot’s establishment ever again. Quidditch matches, trips to Hogsmeade, and even the occasional beer at a muggle bar are all places the two like to frequent. However, by far their most favorite destination are concerts. As a graduation gift, David takes her to see Motley Crue.

12. What are their favorite ways to be physically affectionate?

A: Merula secretly loves butterfly kisses and when David touches her legs up and down. David loves the way she rubs her hands through his hair and the method she uses to nibble on his neck.

13. What’s the dumbest or most ridiculous thing they’ve seen each other do?

A: David always reminds Merula of the time a broom hit her squarely in the face during first year. She on the other hand points out the time a fire crab set his pants on fire.

14. Do they like to cuddle? Who’s the big spoon and who’s the little spoon?

A: In private, the two usually can’t get enough of each other. Merula will usually consent to be the little spoon, but one of her preferred sex positions is the cowgirl. Both will switch off depending on the circumstances. Sometimes, sex becomes as big of a competition as dueling and the vaults.

15. What position do they sleep in when they share a bed?

A: After sex, the two will usually fall asleep facing each other.

16. How do they comfort each other when they have bad days?

A: In her most vulnerable moments, Merula will cling to David or sit on his lap, never letting go. For David, he enjoys resting his head on her bosom.

17. What hobbies or activities do they like to do together?

A: Going to concerts, Qudditch matches, a nice dinner now and then, sex, and even muggle Karaoke nights.

18. What kind of gifts do they give each other?

A: David is aware Merula secretly likes muggle rock music, and often buys her CDs of her favorite bands. He once rigged a radio to play muggle stations so she could listen to the songs in the privacy of her room. He buys her nail polish brands, boots, tights, and also once fixed a damaged family heirloom. In return, Merula will buy him t shirts of his favorite Quidditch team, accessories for his wand, and even bought him a new broom when his old was destroyed by one of her house mates.

19. What’s their favorite thing about each other?

A: David falls head over heels for Merula without realizing why at first. He comes to the conclusion that there is a better person underneath her perpetual nastiness and wants to see more of it- her kindness, willingness to be brave, and using her unlimited ambition for better and higher purposes. Merula never gives up and has a spirit that cannot be broken even by her Death Eater parents. On the other hand, Merula adores David’s sense of humor, his quiet confidence, and his relative fearlessness. Though she never openly admits it while in Hogwarts, she also loves the fact that he challenges her not just in skill but as a person. Both, also find each other quite physically attractive. Merula happens to think David is quite handsome, and David witnesses her become a beautiful young woman.

20. What’s their LEAST favorite thing about each other?

A: Merula, despite softening over the years, still carries a nasty streak in which she can become petulant, angry, and even violent. David gets frustrated with her stubbornness and her need to make everything either a competition or an argument. He wants to get to know her better and be a person she can rely on but more often than not she refuses and pushes him away. As for David, Merula hates that he often surpasses her in talent and skill in most things. She often thinks of him as a hypocrite and as too willing to rush into things head on without taking into consideration the possible consequences. She becomes frequently annoyed when he uses jokes and humor to deflect or get around questions he doesn’t want to answer.

21. Do they keep secrets from each other? Or are they very open and communicative?

A: David and Merula are not the talkative types at first. Neither one likes to divulge feelings all that much. Merula, given that she has trust issues, hides many aspects of her past, though she tries to refrain from outright lying to her boyfriend.

22. What do they think of each other’s choice in career and how supportive are they?

A: David becomes an Auror while Merula becomes the manager for the Weird Sisters. Both are supportive of each other in adult life, though Merula initially feels awkward given that her parents once murdered an Auror in front of her.

23. Do they have a relationship song for each other? Do you have one (or more) for them? If so, what are they?

A. ‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn’ by Poison was the song sung by David to get onto the Frog Choir. It sparked Merula’s interest in rock music and it came to symbolize how they felt about each other. The song played at their wedding, much to the chagrin of Merula’s aunt. Other songs they enjoy together are ‘Dance the Night Away’ by Van Halen, ‘Come As You Are’ by Nirvana, and later ‘When I Come Around’ by Green Day.

24. If they move in together, when does it happen? What’s that transition like?

A: They move into a flat together in London during the year 1993 after David is hired full time as an Auror. The transition, though messy at times, occurs without much hiccup, given that both have largely worked through their issues by now.

25. Do they adopt any pets or magical creatures? If so, which ones?

A: Neither David nor Merula are fond of pets.

26. If they get married, who proposes to whom? And how do they do it?

A: David is spurned to propose to Merula once he figures out Voldemort has returned. He knows that the risk is high that the war will split them apart so he proposes one day after a concert in a park in London. Though overwhelmed, Merula says yes.

27. If they get married, what’s their wedding like?

A: Medium sized. David has much more family than Merula does, given that she has no living grandparents, her parents are in jail, and her aunt is unmarried. However, the Grant family, despite initial misgivings, welcome her as one of their own. David’s best man is Charlie Weasley while Merula’s maid of honor is Ismelda, who is being recruited by the Death Eaters at this time, unbeknownst to everyone else. Almost all of the old Mystery crew returns, except for Rowan, who is abroad with his studies to become a Professor.

28. Do they have and/or adopt any children? What are their names and what’s their relationship with their parents?

A: David and Merula do end up having children, three in fact- Joseph, Thomas, and Sarah. Joe inherited most of Merula’s traits and gets along better with his mother, while Sarah inherited her father’s tendencies, but is something of a daddy’s girl. Thomas is the quiet one, usually settling sibling fights and is highly independent. Joe is a Slytherin, Sarah is a Gryffindor, and Thomas is a Ravenclaw. Despite the personality clashes, the family is generally very happy, buying a house in Lincolnshire, living a peaceful existence.

29. What’s the biggest hurdle they have to overcome in their relationship? Do they ultimately succeed or fail?

A: Merula and David both have internal problems that take time to solve during their Hogwarts years and after. But the ultimate obstacle is the Second Wizarding War. Merula’s parents are freed from Azkaban in 1995 and rejoin Voldemort. They also go out of their way to try and win back their daughter and sway her to their side once more. David knows this, and recognizing the danger, frequently moves them from place to place in the hope they will not find them. That, ultimately fails, but in the end, Merula and David remain together.

30. Do they participate in the Second Wizarding War? Or do they keep to themselves? How do they each feel about it?

A: David, being an Auror participates in the war, but suffers under the corrupt administration of Cornelius Fudge, and the incompetent, overwhelmed one of Rufus Scrimgeour. He must balance his duties with what he knows is right and the survival of his family. When Voldemort takes over, he ends up leaving the Ministry knowing full well the atrocities he would be forced to commit if he were to stay on. For Merula, the war is much more problematic. Despite their best efforts, her parents locate her once more and David nearly has to physically remove them from the premises. But they don’t give up, eventually kidnapping her in late 1997, forcing her into the Death Eater ranks, attempting to brainwash her once more. David then makes it his full time mission to find her and destroy those who work for Voldemort, becoming something of a vigilante bounty hunter.

31. If one of them were to die, how would the surviving party react? Who would take it the worst?

A: Equally. Merula knows that David was the only person to truly believe in her redemption and value as a person. David on the other hand, feels he could not live functionally without his wife.

32. Have they ever said anything hurtful to the other during an argument? If so, how do they go about apologizing?

A: Plenty of times. But this was during the formative years of their relationship. When the make up in Year 6, Merula formally apologizes while David swears he will never let her go again.

33. Is there any circumstance in which you could see their relationship falling apart? If so, what and how would they handle it?

A: It did, briefly, but the situation was not their fault. Initially, teenage angst, bumps, bruises, insecurity, and misunderstandings were the biggest impediments to a happy relationship. But when Merula was kidnapped by the Death Eaters, she was shanghaied, forced to commit horrible acts, branded with the Dark Magic, though she resists in small ways (such as secretly sparing numerous muggle families and passing information to spies). It is only during the battle of Hogwarts, that David is able to break through and rescue her. Due to this, and testimony from Lucius Malfoy, Merula avoids jail time, though it takes a long time for her to recover from the ordeal. Afterwards, they renew their vows and go on to have a family.

#mc info #hphm #mc x merula snyde #merula snyde #david grant #gryffindor #slytherin #romance #love

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moonlightjongin · 5 years

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last line tag

tagged by the poet(!!) @koribantes to do the ‘last line tag: share the last line of your writing, then tag as many people as there are words in the line’.

I’m writing like 6 things at once atm 😩 so I’ll do a couple of little snippets from a couple of them

(When I Was Yours Prologue) It's not exactly as Jongin had described, but it's certainly enough to make reality slap you in the face, dig its sharp nails into your skin and embed them there, tear into what was once naive flesh, draw the first speck of wounded blood to the surface.

He's alone, for a moment.

(Exception 15) "Listen up trust fund, if you don't play along I'm going to lose out on half a million. Don't act like I haven't been anything but polished, here. I flew over wearing my best suit, I watched some fancy ass cooking programme, learned all about the differences between forks, took fucking posture and articulation classes... I'm set. I just need you to back me up here, that's it." ~ Baekhyun’s cameo in Exception to miss OC.

We cover two destinations in this next chapter and in the calm before the storm (you’ll know exactly what I mean by that by reading the tags of the next chapter 🙈 if I say it here Jongin shooters will end me on sight so pleading the fifth) the gang is matched up with an ‘interviewer’ and given a description of their job title and purpose and they have to figure out who’s an ‘impostor’ or not entirely as they seem. And of course it has a Taewon twist and the first person they’re paired up with is intentional and is meant rile them all up in some format.

Taemin’s paired with this 40 something year old employee of Taewon’s called Hyeojin who is extremely smart and put together but she’s also Snake Extraordinaire and knows so much more than Taewon even thinks she does (and he makes it a priority to know everything about his employees) and anyway she knows all about Narae and there’s a development on that front through her, but she tries to guilt trip the hell out of Taemin throughout their talk.

Jongin with this super attractive couple years older woman named Bomi who’s presenting herself as nothing but a ‘kept woman’, and she’s meant to be a dig at what OC will become if left to her “own devices” / a dig that none of OC’s ambitions will manifest if Jongin or Taemin weren’t in the picture, which will bother him like crazy to even hear because it’s so... untrue, and left to go down that route only in such a case. But he knows it’s all an act and that OC really won’t end up like that but +5 more points to the I hate my father jar

And the situations of the others you can meet in the chapter but they’re paired like: Sehun with Kyungsoo, Chanyeol and Min-seo, Junmyeon and Luhan, Baekhyun and OC). And anyway Baekhyun’s doing an awful job at convincing OC he genuinely works for Taewon and that he’s from old money, and he just spends the interview flirting with her outrageously the entire time and she’s like ‘okay but why is he like a male me though? Is this what Jongin saw the first time we interacted 😩 #mess’. And after all the flirting she’s all ‘lol. I like quiet men tho.’

But then he calls her out on the fact she’s not half as poor as she makes out, even if surrounded by the mega, mega rich, she’s never really known financial struggle the way he has, and she’s never really been called out like that so she’s a little shook. And they bicker a lot throughout but then they kind of strike up a friendship that might persist after this encounter.

And there’s (existential) pillow talk with Jongin too before all this so don’t worry about that

(Rescind; it’ll either be slotted into chapter 3 or 4) "They say that the propagators of any new paradigm... they suffer the most so the generations after them can thrive. Akal and Elios lost each other so we could be here, which is tragic in its own right but without that--" Taemin’s staring at the pages before him, a slight furrow to his brow. The emotion swirling in his irises is hard to pin down, but they’re much more amber than they are red at the current moment, which surprises you, because he hasn’t been taking to the knowledge well. From flat out denying Akal’s existence the first time the topic was breached as he slammed the history book shut with so much force that the sound reverberated around the room and echoed in your ears for moments after, to threatening to burn your history books at the mention of him being the first vampire in existence, this reaction is a lot more... demure.

You want to ask more, ask what Faenraehl vampires are taught about their history, what they get out of masking the truth. None of your books erase the existence of Elios, so why would that be happening on the former’s end? You’d always assumed the depth of love and admiration Elios claimed to feel for Akal would persist even after his banishment, like he vowed it would.

The knowledge of Akal’s erasure doesn’t reflect that.

"We could've had peace all along?" In a flash, whatever had been stirring within him is pushed down and locked away within whatever chamber he keeps his gentler emotions stored. He doesn’t give you chance to contemplate his addition, how things would’ve been had Elios not led Luna astray the way he did, had their banishment not happened. How your two kinds could’ve been united all along, before he’s brushing it off like a joke. A faraway ideal that would never happen. “Instead, you’re stuck with me on a peace treaty neither of us want. Let’s do something else, history bores me to death.”

Yet he keeps returning to these books, any chance he can get...

(Just OC and Taemin uncharacteristically bonding for like three seconds on day three of project ~Faenraehl and Aandiel peace treaty~, after doing nothing but scrap before that. Neither realizing the foreshadowing of OC’s words there, either~)

tagging: @ninibears-erigom-fics @fantasies-from-nami @singingunderthecurtain @monicaexol @taemsgirl (if she’ll bless me with her writing ofc, but no pressure!!) (and even if no writing from the next three tagged, I just like tagging you three so deal with it!! 😭♡) @winteramblings @happybreadzombie-blog @luineile

#sorry for the exception ramble but a lot happens this chapter!!#tagged ~♡

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howrry · 5 years

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off to the races

a/n: if you’re having trouble picture what the dress looked like its here! anyways i loooooved writing the banter between them. here’s ceo-daddy-whatever-you-want harry going on a date with bartender!y/n :*

w/c: 5.4k

warnings: this has explicit hard drug use! if that’s not your thing please don’t read this! i certainly don’t recommend anyone use any drugs and it solely exists for the sake of this plot! also he rails her

***

Courtney stormed into the kitchen from the bar, untying her waist apron as gracefully as she could and throwing it on one of those metal rolling counters. "Have I ever mentioned I hate my job?" she bit as soon as the door slammed shut behind her.

You finished your glass of ice water, bracing yourself to go out there yourself. You relaced your shoe and adjusted your own apron. "How bad could it have been?" you asked only half rhetorically.

"He asked for a virgin martini!" she huffed, pulling the hair tie from her thick dark hair and letting it spill into her face. "Do you want me to bring you an olive in a glass?"

You laughed, mirroring her actions by tying up your own hair. "No way. You're exaggerating."

"Y/N, I argued with this elderly man for three whole minutes. He insisted he came in last week and was served a virgin martini and it was the best thing he'd ever had in a bar." Courtney went back to fish through the pockets of her apron to get the money she'd collected from the tip jar.

"Oh, are you talking about the guy that just left?" Becca, another coworker, asked from the sink. "Yeah, I served him last week. I gave him a martini glass with water, lemon bitters, and a splash of cranberry juice. Told him I cut it with a 'virgin wine'. He tipped me a $20," she brushed a chunk of blonde hair that fell into her face and went back to washing the dishes.

"God, thanks for letting me know!" Courtney groaned, counting out her share of the tips, pocketing the money and giving the rest to you. "Have fun out there. I think some business meeting was in town so there's a bunch of gross older men out there wanting their fuckin' margaritas." She casually popped open the first two buttons of her uniform's black button down as she stuffed her money in her chinos pocket.

"Watch your mouth!" Becca yelled, making the other girl laugh as she clocked out. "You'll be fine, Y/N. Rich guys tip well!" she encouraged.

"If they tip you at all," C warned just once more before slipping out the back door.

You shrugged your pessimistic coworker off and went out into the bar. The new girl who'd been out there alone seemed relieved to see you, as it was starting to get a little hectic. "What can I make for you?" you asked her, at the same moment that she shoved a sticky note covered in drink orders in your hand. Okay, time to get to work.

***

You'd been working at an upscale bar for about four months now. It had always been a dream of yours to work as a bartender, and you put yourself through the first three years of college working in and out of dingy places near your campus. Just as you started your last year towards your degree, the owner of your current workplace visited your bar by sheer chance and was impressed by you and offered a job on the spot. Your new pay was nearly double your old wage and you made much better tips, but God the patrons were terrible.

Working at a bar is virtually never smooth sailing. No matter where the joint is located, you get most of the same problems. Making drinks can get messy, and all the handiwork involved in you job made nail polish impossible. Some guys got way too fucking drunk. They tried to drive home after just one too many beers. Even the snotty rich fellas would put their manners side and start shoving others around if they thought someone was ogling their wife in a weird way. These were no picnic to deal with, but working in the nicer areas came with its own set of challenges.

Y/N learned almost immediately that rich guys were ridiculously entitled. No matter which order you serve them, at least one of them will gripe by the time you reach them. Some of them made gross comments (fortunately, your boss has a no-tolerance policy for this and with a wave of the hand, a bouncer would carry out the offending customer). They complained about how well their drinks are made and demand them to be redone. Working at shitty bars had way more freedom, because regardless of how you treat the obnoxious customers, you'll still have people who come back. But in the nicer places, reputation matters. Sometimes you have to remake that drink, even if it just means transferring it to a different glass and adding new garnish when they're not looking and handing it right back to them.

That almost always works, by the way.

Anyways, the day was terrible, just as Courtney warned. It was a Murphy's Law kind of shift and nothing sounded better than going home, kicking your shoes off, and never having to live this day over again. Fortunately, she'd been wrong about the tips and you'd had to send your coworker back at least three times to dump the tip jar out back in the office as it had been overflowing. But did it make up for how lousy the rest of the shift was? Maybe. A little.

The most beautiful words a bartender can hear are, "We close at 11." You had worked at places that stayed open until as late as 2 AM, but your current bar was closed and locked up before the day even changed. Your shifts were great, typically only being about four or five hours and getting home at reasonable hours, but the time spent there just felt tedious.

You swore it was a human instinct to check your watch incessantly whenever it's the last 15 or so minutes of your shift. Even when there was so much left to do, something about twitching to look at your wrist too often was so much more appealing than working. Usually, the only thing to stop the tick is if an interesting patron walked in.

And one did.

He was tall, commanded the room, dressed up but in all black. His hair was timelessly loose and curly, and his hands peaking out from his blazer sleeves revealed that he might be hiding some tattoos. It was suddenly like you weren't wearing a watch at all.

"What can I get for you, sir?" you cooed, maybe just a little off the mark of being subtle.

"I'll take a tequila shot, and pour one for y'self, too," he said deeply, sitting at the bar and combing through his locks with his fingers. He intimidatingly peered over you as you awkwardly scrambled around.

"I think y'know I can't do that, sir," you said apologetically, fishing out a glass and breezily pouring a shot. While putting the bottle of tequila back, you grabbed some abandoned empty glasses from the bar and moved them behind the counter. Your coworker had gone to the back an hour ago to close the kitchen, and multitasking happened to be one of your strong suits.

"I don't, actually." His hand came up to rub at his bottom lip, and you noticed the nails were painted a dark blue, almost black. The other hand grabbed the drink you slid towards him followed by a lime wedge. He didn't take it yet.

You pulled the white towel off your shoulder and wiped down the area in front of you. "It's the X-ray problem at the doctor's."

The man's pointer finger spun around the rim of the glass. "I'm sorry, the what?"

"Okay, so, you're an adult man. I assume you've been to the doctor's before."

"That'd be a correct assumption, yes."

"Have you ever had an X-ray done?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I feel like everyone has."

"Probably most people. Anyways, the doctor tells you the X-ray is completely safe, but they go to Egypt to push the button."

The man laughed, and it was honestly music to your ears. You even felt your mouth involuntarily curl up a tiny bit. "You're right. But what's that got to do with this?" He lifted the shot glass and gestured towards you with it.

"The amount of radiation that one X-ray exposes you to is so negligible its rounds off to zero, but if the doctor stands in front of the machine for 8 hours every single day he goes to work, he'll definitely get every kind of cancer." You picked up a shot glass from the stack of them behind the counter. "If I have just one shot with every person who asked, I'd definitely get alcohol poisoning."

He let out another one of his gorgeous laughs, and you could no longer hold back a bashful smile. "But is the bar not about to close?" he asked.

"We are."

"And you don't seem drunk at all t'me," he hummed, scratching his stubble.

"You're quite observant." You nodded approvingly towards an old man on the other side of the bar who drained his lager glass before tossing a few dollars into the tip jar and shrugging on his coat. You rinsed the glass in the sink before putting it in the tray to carry to the back.

The man at the bar dragged his eyes at the leaving customer, aware that you and him were now alone. The shot he'd ordered still sat in front of him. "So I guess it couldn't hurt to actually have just one, hmm?"

You wiped your hands on a clean towel, thinking it over. To make the deal sweeter, the man pulled out a $50 bill and put it on the counter between the two of you. In all honesty, you weren't impressed. This was a nice bar, to be fair. It wasn't completely rare that big shots and new money heirs came in and shoved their fortunes down everyone's throats by getting everyone's tabs and tipping in the double and triple digits. His money didn't make you shrug and pull out another glass to fill-- no, it was something else.

He seemed so familiar. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about him felt like you knew him already. And frankly, he did make a good point. The day had been super rough, your feet were aching, and you hadn't had a drop to drink all night. Even taking the tip out of the equation, it didn't sound like a terrible idea. What would one little shot hurt?

You dabbed some water on the back of your hand and salted it, though he went straight for licking his own hand. Once the two of you were ready to take your shots, he raised his glass towards you. The smirk on his face when you clinked your glasses together made something swirl in your lower belly, but you knew the tequila would extinguish that feeling immediately.

Lick. Shoot. Suck. You'd been a pro at this since that spring break you and your friends took to South Padre Island freshman year. The liquor barely even burned at this point, and you hummed while biting at the lime in your mouth as the man sputtered just a little bit.

"Here," he groaned, picking up and trying to hand you the $50.

You waved your hand a bit at him, reaching your hand up to let your hair out of the tie. "Don't even worry about it. You were fun talking to, it's not necessary."

"I insist." He seemed steadfast, and you didn't feel like arguing. You sighed and took the money gratefully, moving to slip it into the pooled tip jar. His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your wrist gently. "I didn't put it in the tip jar for a reason."

You breathed through your nose carefully, a little turned on at his boldness. Your hand slowly retreated and stuffed the bill into your back pocket, and the man smiled once more.

He tossed a bit more money onto the counter to pay for the shots you two just took, and scribbled something out onto a napkin. He nodded towards you and left the bar just as the clock struck 11. Becca emerged from the back to go lock the front door and didn't seem to notice you were frozen. When you finally grabbed at the napkin he'd left, it was difficult trying to read his scrawled handwriting. "Harry," was the only thing written on it, followed by 10 simple digits.

That's when it finally clicked. This was Harry, the frontman of that band from ages ago. You remember your younger sister being a huge fan of them maybe ten years back, but it was a bit out of your generation. He seemed so much older now with that behind him, and he was quite charming. And you just got his phone number!

You stuffed the napkin into the same pocket as the money he'd given you, hurriedly cleaning the bar and getting ready to go home. You didn't tell a single coworker who you'd just talked to and clocked out as fast as you absolutely could. It almost felt like it didn't really happen, and if you talked about it out loud it would turn out to be a twisted elaborate dream.

Another pro of your bar's early close: busses were still running to take you home after work. On the way back to your apartment, you typed out a quick text to your new friend. I don't suppose I ever told you my name. I'm Y/N

Quick and simple. Not wasting time. You'd never been one to be patient or drawn out, and assumed most people didn't either. Playing those wait-three-days games had ended up fizzling out most of your friends' relationships and you hated to see it.

He responded. It was lovely meeting you, Y/N

Your lips curled into a soft smile as the dots popped back up on your screen.

When might I be able to see you again? You hummed at your phone screen, thinking over what to say as the automated voice on the bus informed you that your stop was close.

I work on Tuesday next week! you offered, stuffing your phone into your pocket and hopping off the bus. As you shoved your apartment key into the lock, your cell buzzed with another reply from Harry.

I was thinking about a time where neither of us are working, but you're adorably funny. He sure was a charmer.

He ended up inviting you out to a night in the city. The party scene wasn't terribly unfamiliar for you (your college friends had always been down to get lit), but it was always at frat houses or people's apartments and not clubs that served Dom Perignon under thousand-dollar chandeliers.

The night he took you out, you'd chosen to wear a loose silver mini dress that gleamed and reflected lights around you. It was simple but flashy, something you thought Harry would appreciate. A huge part of you wanted to stop the dressy part of your outfit right there given how often you work on your feet, but you had this pair of black strap heels that had never left your closet and deserved a night out just like you did.

Something inside you expected Harry to have a driver or whatnot, but he actually pulled up in a black Cadillac, and even went up to knock on your apartment door. A true gentleman. Opened the car for you and everything.

"I was a little nervous about riding together," you admitted once the two of you were on the road together.

Harry made a noise of confusion. "How come?"

"You know when you're on a first date, and in the car or the Uber or whatever, there's that small talk before the small talk you have at the destination? Ugh, that's my kryptonite in terms of second hand embarrassment."

"The first time we met, we immediately started talking about the dentist and alcohol poisoning and going to Egypt. I think we'll be fine."

"We did not talk about going to Egy—!" you started, but he cut you off.

"Anyways, I wanted to thank you for coming out tonight with me," he announced.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "You? Thanking me? How come?" you asked.

"Well... you met me so recently. We've had maybe three conversations. For all you know, I could be a psycho murderer."

"So could I."

He didn't see that coming. He couldn't stop a half-snort, half-giggle from escaping him. "I s'pose, but isn't it more likely to be me?"

"I think that's sexist. We should hold both genders accountable for their shortcomings."

"You consider being a psycho murderer a shortcoming?"

"Exaggerations can go both ways."

He sighed. "I'm just tryin' to say thank you. Most girls wouldn't go off with a strange man." When he realized exactly what he'd just said, he immediately tried to backtrack. "Well, I— Not that I'm constantly asking strange women to go off with me. Just a figure of speech."

It was your turn to snort at his goofiness. "Now I don't believe that for a minute. A man as attractive and charming as you should never be looking far to get his rocks off."

His eyes narrowed but his focus was on the road. "Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N," you declared simply, leaning your elbow against the car door and resting your temple on your palm. "I'm from the suburbs around here. Went to the same college as my parents. Took the same major as my mom. Put myself through school by working at an upscale bar where I meet lovely characters like yourself." You looked over to see how he was reacting to your light teasing and he was staring straight ahead, smirking.

"So you're in school?" He pulled up to a red light and looked over at you.

"I'm a senior." His head cocked confusedly and you sighed. "I'm in my last year. I graduate next semester."

"Congratulations, love." Green light. "Always wish I'd gone to school, jus' a little bit of me does."

"Hmm? Why didn't you?" you asked absentmindedly, picking at one of the crystals on your dress.

Harry actually laughed. "I was, uh, a bit busy during that time of my life."

Your head snapped up and you opened your mouth awkwardly. "Oh!" You felt so stupid. He just seemed so normal to talk to, it was easy to forget who he was and just connect with him.

"S'not stupid, it's actually quite refreshing to feel like a normal nobody sometimes," he said.

Ah, you'd just said all that out loud. "Sorry," you mumbled sheepishly. "And thanks for calling me a nobody."

The two of you had arrived at the venue. "That's not what I meant, love," he tried to get out before a valet boy in a red vest opened your car door for you.

The second your heel made contact with the pavement you were suddenly stunned by a great flash of white-- someone had just taken your picture. You blinked a couple times for your eyes to refocus, but another flash went off, then another and another. You were really close to stumbling back if someone hadn't grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards the inside of the bar.

It was Harry. Once the two of you were inside he immediately showered you in apologies. "'M so sorry, love," he said in your ear. "Didn't think that one through. We'll go in through the back next time. Hope you're okay with being on DailyMail."

Whoa whoa whoa. Next time? Through the back? DailyMail?? It was amazing how nonchalant Harry was about having paps up his ass all the time. Being famous honestly didn't seem to be all it was cracked up to be.

The bar was designed like a speakeasy. It paid homage to the Mafia days of the establishment and the lighting was low and sensual. Harry got the two of you a table and ordered some cocktails.

"How're yeh doing?" he purred, asking you once you'd settled in and gotten your beverages.

You smiled, gently gnawing on the lime twist from your Cosmo. "This is lovely, especially when I'm not the one making the drinks."

He laughed, stretching an arm behind him and shrugging off his coat, leaving him in a simple white button down that was probably not as buttoned as it was meant to be. "I'm gonna scan the room and see if I know anyone here. I'd love for yeh to get to know some new people."

After looking around a bit, he found a friend of his named Nick, a charming and tall man who had a personal space issue (not giving people any of it, that is). He let you and Harry join him and his crew, and everyone was having a lovely time together, sipping cocktails and enjoying the live music performed by a talented woman in a red dress.

That is, of course, until your hand slipped while holding an orange drink and managed to spill it on Harry's white shirt. You rushed out a hundred apologies before he could even compute what was happening but he fortunately had a good spirit about it.

"It's alright love!" he laughed, inspecting the spot. It wasn't ruined. "It's just a shirt. 'Ve got a hundred more at home. I'll go clean this up."

"I'll help you," you offered, still feeling bad. He nodded and the two of you went to the bathroom of the club, a wheelchair-accessible room really only meant for one person.

It wasn't a tight fit, though, and the two of you could comfortably move around in the space. Harry locked the door behind you two and tossed his coat onto the counter while you dabbed at the orange stain with a wet paper towel. It was already starting to lift a bit and looked like the fabric might even be salvaged.

"See? All worked up for nothing." He gave a soft, reassuring smile and your stomach turned giddily. "It especially won't be a problem if I just keep m'jacket on all night."

Harry readjusted his coat, shaking out the lapels. As he carried out this motion, something flew out of the inside pocket that caught your eye. It was small and lightweight, but plopped down onto the floor purposefully. It was a tiny plastic bag, not even as big as the palm of your hand, and filled with a fine white powder.

The awkward silence that filled the bathroom was oxygen-depriving. His mouth opened to say something but he blanked. Even though the music from the club was floating in the air, neither of you two were quite listening to it anymore. Harry's gaze switched from you to the bag at least twice while trying to think of something to say, but you beat him to it.

"Is... is that—?" you started, staring down at the baggie.

"I... understand if this is a deal breaker," Harry explained, picking up the drugs and placing them back in his coat. His hands flew up to nervously toy with his hair.

"I want to try it," you whispered.

"Smoking backstage joints with Kacey was one thing but it's--" he stopped. "I— You— what?"

"I always have," you confirmed, eyes fixated on the pocket where he'd just stuffed the blow. You glanced back up to make eye contact. "You don't have to give it for free. I can—"

"God, no," he said. "You're not gonna take your clothes off just for some coke."

"Uh, I was going to say I'd pay you for it, but real smooth, Casanova," you snickered, making him roll his eyes.

"I wouldn't make yeh pay for it. I mean, this is a date isn't it?" he reminded.

Your shoulders tensed up at the idea of mooching off the Harry Styles for coke, but relaxed when you realized he seemed genuine. "I suppose." You paused for a minute, thinking about what to say next. "My roommate in the second year of college took home the ugliest guys just to rail a line of theirs, so it's probably pretty damn good."

He laughed, lowering his eyes comfortably. "You're not gonna do a whole line first," he said lowly. "Maybe jus' a key bump to see how you feel. D'y'know what that is?"

You smirked. "Yes. You scoop a little bit on a key and just snort that."

"Look at you," he purred proudly. "Are you okay with doing that, doll?"

You leaned your head on the wall. "Yes, sir."

Harry beamed at you and dug into his pocket. "Fuck," he groaned, "the valet boy has m'keys. Have you got yours?"

You nodded and dug into your purse for your keys. He giggled at your keychain that looked like a waffle. "Don't laugh! It's easy to find when I'm in a rush."

"I'm not judging!" he defended, isolating the key with the widest tip. "S'actually quite cute." While holding that one key between his fingers, he opened the baggie and gently squished it around. He then carefully dug out a little scoop of the soft white powder using the key. "I'm gonna do one first so you can see how it's done, then you can try one y'self, okay?"

You nodded, and he handed you the baggie to hold as he carefully kept the key steady. You watched as he meticulously brought it up to one of his nostrils, holding the other one shut with his free hand. He sniffed deeply, and once he'd cleared the key, he pulled it away and let go of his nostril to full inhale. Finally he sighed and shook his head, blinking quickly.

"Harry?"

He fluttered his eyes once more before smiling. "Wow. Never gets old." You laughed with him and he delicately took the bag back from you. "Are yeh ready?"

"Yes," you whispered. He scooped another bump out, this time a bit more erratic and unsteady. He handed you the keys and resealed the bag, slipping it into his coat pocket.

"All yours, pretty girl."

You pursed your lips for a moment and plugged one of your nostrils. You thought your hands would be shaking at this point but you were steady as a surgeon when you brought it to your face. It'd be like taking a pill, right? Like, if you failed to swallow the entire mouthful of medication and water in one go, it won't go down, so if you just did one tiny sniff you would probably choke or cough your guts out. You inhaled deeply, ensuring you got every fleck of coke off the cool metal.

Even after you'd pulled the keys away and let go of your other nostril, you were frozen standing still. Harry observed you and laughed out loud. "Y/N, exhale!"

You finally let go of the huge breath you'd just taken. Your face immediately began feeling a bit tingly and then went numb. Your brain felt like it went into hyperdrive, your skin was on fire, your heart was racing, and something deep inside you told you to run.

"How do you feel, baby?" Harry asked, and you realized his large hand was cupping your cheek.

"So fucking good," you breathed. Your eyes scanned over his face. He had shaved for the evening, since there was no stubble and he'd been a bit scruffy that night at the bar. His lips were wet and red, and his jaw was sharp as steel. This was the first time you'd really gotten a good look at his eyes and they were gorgeous. Pupils blown out by the coke, green from what you could see, littered with flecks of gold. You wanted to get lost in those eyes.

"Y/N?" he asked softly, feeling uncomfortable with you scrutinizing his face. "Are yeh sure you feel al—hmm!"

He was cut off by you diving forward to kiss him. Neither of you had even a second thought about this. Your hands were furious; both of you were pulling at buttons and zippers to expose more skin without even breaking for air. One of your hands strategically slipped down to slide over the bulge in his trousers and he gasped into the kiss.

"Can I—" he breathed over your face.

"Yes, God, yes." At the confirmation, Harry pulled you off of him completely and turned you around to face the mirror, pushing you down by your back. He pinned you between himself and the bathroom counter, your hips digging into the edge. His cock aligned with your center, grinding and shamelessly moaning before tugging up the bottom of your dress and sliding your panties to the side.

His fingers skimmed over your folds, getting to know your core and swirling around your clit. "Hmm, seems like someone gets excited when they've got a li'l blow in them," he mused. "Fuck, pet, your clit is so swollen, someday I'm gonna have to get it on my tongue."

You whined, wanting that to happen right now but were delighted nonetheless to hear his pants unzipping.

"But right now, I have to get m'self in you." You felt him fumbling around behind you before he was pressing against your entrance. "S'this okay, doll?"

You nodded desperately, dropping your head and pushing back so that the head of his cock pushed its way inside you. He groaned and grabbed your hair, pulling you up to look at yourself in the mirror. Harry guided his hips forward until finally the two of you were fit snugly and started fucking in and out of you.

If your lipstick wasn't fucked up already from the drinking and making out, it was now that he was dipping his fingers into your mouth and using the leverage to thrust into you harder. His hands smeared across your face a bit as he relentlessly buried his cock in you over and over.

At one point, you lifted one leg such that you could bring it up onto the counter beside you. From a third eye, the position may seem acrobatic and intense but was oddly uncomplicated and gave Harry a far wider range of motion. At this angle, he was unforgivingly stimulating your G-spot, turning you into a weeping puddle of whines and expletives.

"Right there harder holy fuck Harry you're so deep keep going right fucking there," were only a sample of the pathetic things falling from your lips. You could be embarrassed at your words later, right now you were way too close to an orgasm to care.

Harry was spurred on by your vocalization, as one does. One hand dug into the flesh at your hip to make the two of you collide even more intensely, while the other hand snaked down to flick at your clit with the fingers coated in your spit. When you finally did cum, you were glad that he was pinning you down so tightly as your standing leg was virtually boneless.

As if watching you fall apart on his cock wasn't enough, you had to cap it off by begging the dirtiest things you could think of from him. "Cum inside me, daddy, please fill me up, show everyone who's cunt this is, please."

His hips stuttered once before he shoved the entire length back in you and came until his member stopped twitching. When he caught his breath, he pulled out and watched the soft white liquid seep out after him. He went to touch it and you recoiled.

"Sorry, m'sensitive," you weeped, and he ran his other hand through your hair while putting himself away.

"I should be sorry. Fucked the stand out of ya," he noted with a chuckle, assisting you getting redressed.

Once the two of you were presentable enough to step back out into the club and the thick sex atmosphere had wafted away, the tension grew. "So, uh, it's getting kind of late, hmm?" you led. "Maybe I should be on my way." Part of you didn't want to leave, but all good things had to come to an end and it was better to err on the safe side rather than overstay your welcome.

He laughed, pulling you to him by your waist. His eyes scanned over you and the smirk on his face was downright devilish. "Oh darling, if you think for even a moment that this evening is over, you're quite mistaken."

Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the noisy crowd of the club, where your night was just starting to begin.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #jawllines #permanentcross #haroldloverboy #harryforvogue #inwhichitrytowritesomething #BOOYAAH i lied and said id post it tomorrow but i finished editing early #imma go smoke then buy some new jeans bye babessss

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veridium · 6 years

Text

sweetest goodbye

@bitchesofostwick I’m literally garbage and spewed this fluff onto my computer so here. it helped that your beautiful torturous fluff from last chapter was so so so good and inspired me.

PART 8 OF THE TRASH CAN FIRE COLLEGE AU FIC.

ON THIS EPISODE: The day after their party escapade, and Olivia has a choice to make -- take Cassandra up on her bet and show up at the Church, or skip out and move on for good. She makes a pact with Ellinor that they will do something to clean up the messes they’ve made; how successful that ends up being, well, only time will tell.

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7

The worst part is the dry throat that comes when she first wakes up after a Friday of drinking and poor decisions. It always makes her cringe and curl into her bed face-down, until it’s too much to bear and she has to get up and drink a hydroflask’s worth of water from the dorm bathroom sink. That is, unless she wakes up and the first thing she sees is Ellinor’s feet -- which, incidentally, is what happens the morning after their night from hell.

She blinks her heavy lids open and sees them in all their glory: the chipped hunter green nail polish on her big toes, the crocheted anklet hanging on by a worn-down knot. She stretches her arms up and papers crackle -- taco bell wrappers no less.

She groans and pokes Ellinor in her ankle. Her ticklish instincts lead her to flinch and retract a foot into the comforter. A growl from the other end of the dorm twin bed.

“Errrrghhhh,” Ellinor stiffs, rolling over. “Fuck me.”

“You’re the only person I could wake up next to in bed and still be a hundred percent sure I did anything but that,” Olivia mutters back, rubbing her eyes with her knuckle. “What time is it?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Ugh.” She reaches back and slaps her hand a couple times on the nearby dresser searching for what feels like a phone. Finding it, she holds it up over her face only to drop it on her forehead. She winces and cusses under her breath before turning the screen on. “It’s...shit, it’s 2.”

“Too early.” Ellinor curls back over against the wall.

“Ellinor.”

She only burps, followed by a groan of disgust. “My burps taste like fire sauce…”

Olivia sighs heavy and pulls her arms up and over the blanket, folding them against her chest as she stares up at the ceiling. Trying to remember everything: the house party she had no idea about until it was too late. The whiskey -- the excessive whiskey. Cassandra arguing like an asshole in the hall, and her stupid bet. Getting in the car with Theia while Josie asks her what’s wrong over and over. Their arrival at a gay bar and her ordering another double old-fashioned to add insult to injury. Dancing on...tables? Tables.

That is where her memory goes hazy. She wishes it got like that sooner in the evening so she wouldn’t have to think about it all.

“Are you...gonna go?” Ellinor asks, seemingly reading her thoughts.

“I don’t think I should,” she replies honestly, exhaling. “I’m in no shape to be judged for all my mortal sins.”

Ellinors tucks herself deeper into the bed against her borrowed pillow. “Mmph. I don’t think she’s expecting a Saint to show up.”

“I don’t think she’s expecting me to show up at all.”

“Could you blame her, dude?”

She’s right. Grumpy, but right. It would be on-brand for Olivia to keep with her tradition of finding the exit and call it good. She checks her apps on her phone, taking it off DO NOT DISTURB. New messages from several people -- Theia, with a thumbs up after she confirmed they got back to the dorm. Her Dad, wondering why she hasn’t called. The student she’s tutoring wanting to reschedule...again. Then, Cassandra’s name comes up. A message sent at 9am:

--I can send you the address, if you’re planning on coming.

That’s it. That’s all. No tastefully added smiley emoji, no greeting like she would before. She used to say ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight.’ Olivia kind of misses it. But then her voice saying ‘Goodnight, Olivia’ with her understated smugness echoes in her head and compounds her nausea.

“What about Cullen?” Olivia diverts, tossing her phone onto her stomach. “You gonna handle that mess you made?”

“I didn’t make a mess,” Ellinor says resentfully. “I...I got out of hand, and ejected myself before it could get worse. I am glad I did.”

“Ellinor,” Olivia peers down at her, only seeing her bedhead of dark hair against the pillowcase. “He did the cool thing. You know, we like guys who do that cool thing. Right?”

Maybe that is the issue -- he was doing the cool thing. He always does the cool thing. Ellinor doesn’t know where to look for her excuse explaining why she blocks him out. There’s no idle vice, no insincerity, no pretentiousness. No foul taste in music or cinema. He’s just fine. Perfectly fine.

“Look,” Olivia adds, squirming in place. Her head aches. “I’ll cut a deal. I’ll...address my mess, if you address yours. You owe me that after lying to me like a dumbass. Right?”

Ellinor is quiet for a moment. Olivia expects her to say “nuh-uh” and go back to sleep, or start snoring without a word at all. But, to her credit, she rolls back over and peers down her nose, frowning but with acceptance.

“Fine.”

“Fine. You have until tomorrow night at Midnight to do it. Then, we are to have our shit swept under the rug where it belongs.” Olivia smirks bittersweetly, and pecks the side of her foot. “Asshole. I can’t believe you pulled that on me. I hate you.”

“I know. But it was pretty fucking hilarious.” Ellinor stretches her arms up above her head, hands in fists. “Besides, you were hot.”

She is right. She was hot. But dammit if Cassandra did not show a single lick of care in that regard. 2:00pm means she has an hour and a half to get her act together, whatever it is. Should she be spiteful and come dressed like a demonic sorceress with a need for a virgin sacrifice? Or should she play along and maybe not go full throttle-antagonist just yet?

Ellinor pinches her in the calf. “Don’t scare the Preacher into locking you up and exorcising you, please.”

Well, there’s her verdict.

TWO HOURS LATER…

For the second time in the weekend Olivia finds herself standing in front of a building she has no interest in entering, and yet, she is tasked with doing just that. Cassandra’s text was nice, but unnecessary; everyone knew where their Church was. It is a gaudy one, with bells, cobblestone facade, and all. It’s annoying, and old looking, and smells on the inside. At least, that is what she remembers from the last time she set foot in it when she was sixteen.

It’s 4:15. She’s late. But it’s fine. She tugs at the turtleneck collar of her black, crushed velvet dress than goes down to her knees. Around her waist is a black slim belt, and she’s wearing the same kind of black sheer tights from the night before. A compromise between wanting to stick it to Cassandra and accommodate the situation. And oxford heels, the most non-emo punk pair of shoes she owns. Her hair is in a neat top bun but she secretly wishes she had worn it down. Now she won’t be able to hide her face around its waves.

In the front where there is a podium by double doors, and the carpet is blue like she remembers. The side offices look locked up and desolate. She expects there to be several busybody Jesus-Juicers singing or praising the Lord on this fine Saturday evening, and yet, the place is so quiet she could hear a pin drop and scream Hallelujah.

She goes through the two doorways leading to the main chamber, where the two sides of long benches span down the length of the room towards the altar steps. The place is one of those Churches that tries its best to look old despite probably being built no farther back than 1995. Stained glass windows depicting sacred scenes up along the walls, flying buttresses that are probably just mostly plaster, and wooden pews.

She walks until she’s about halfway down the main processional walkway and stops. In the corner is the organ, the one she was forced to play on once. She was learning piano at the time, but her Mother thought she would do well to learn hymns via musical appreciation. It did not go well. The songs she learned were so repetitive, always so mundane to her kid self who wanted to be entertained. Just as she zones out into her childhood of repressed manners, a sound of creaking out from the other side of the altar stage. A door opening fast. In a flash Cassandra appears, dressed in black slacks like the ones she wore the night of the concert and a black button-down dress shirt. Tucked in. Of course. She looks surprised. Like, honestly surprised.

Olivia blinks. “Hello!”

Cassandra just stands there, looking like the Holy Ghost has stopped by with a cup of coffee and wearing a little, black, long-sleeved velvet dress.

Olivia swallows and starts walking to her. Slowly like a choir processional member. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I…” Cassandra gulps, looking back behind her fast before she refocuses on her guest. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

She furrows a brow. “Is that not what you do when you are invited somewhere?”

“Well, yeah, but…when you didn’t text back, I kind of just assumed...” she looks around again, this time back towards the doors from whence Olivia came. What, is she scared someone is gonna jump out and attack?

“You okay? You look…” Olivia comes around the front row and up the two steps, now standing parallel with her.

“Oh! Uh,” she clears her throat and cradles her arms under her chest. “Yeah. I think I just maybe...uh, nevermind. H-how are you? Did your night get better after your friends came and picked you up?”

It must have. Olivia can’t remember for sure, which is a good sign. Usually. “Agh, yeah,” she smirks, shrugging to one side, “we just did our typical nonsense. I’m still kinda out of it.”

“Right. I had a little too much rum and coke last night, myself.”

“Oh, you do drink rum?”

“Yeah. How did you…”

“I smelled it on your br--I mean, uhm,” she rubs her wrist to her throat and looks toward the altar mosaics. “Cool...cool stuff here. They still have the same sh--I mean, things, here, from what I remember.” She kicks at the ground with her shoe heel.

Cassandra grins, and steps closer. “I mean, religion kind of attests the adage ‘if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.’”

“I think quite the contrary,” Olivia meanders towards the table where the bread and water plates are laid out, clean and pristine, “you would be unpopular around Martin Luther and his friends.”

A chuckle. “Touche.” Cassandra arrives at her side and locks eyes with her. There’s no anger in her expression -- quite the opposite, actually. A reserved hopefulness.

“Listen, Cass--”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Cassandra shakes her head, sliding her hands into her pant pockets. “I get it. Church girl with a mean face turns up and shows interest. Must be an Inquisition on the wings.”

Olivia laughs nervously, tucking nonexistent hair behind her ears. “You said it, not me.” She looks back behind her at the empty room, so spacious and expansive, yet she feels closed in. “I...I admit I’m confused, though.”

“Confused? Why?”

“It’s just. I don’t know. You’re caring an awful lot about a simple friendship…” she scans the windows again, noticing the stark colors of the peoples’ clothes. “Especially one not founded on spiritual salvation.”

She lets her gaze fall on Cassandra, who looks rather engrossed in something. Something...someone, apparently, as her eyes are only on her. Another fleeting moment where Olivia thinks she sees the truth in her intentions, but can’t be sure. It’s one foot in, one foot out, and a door ready to slam on her fingers for daring to touch. But she smiles, and plays coy.

“What’s the matter?”

“...Nothing,” Cassandra’s brows lift, her eyes clearing as she looks away. “Hey, um, I did ask you here for a reason. If you have the time, I’d like to show you something.”

“Oh?” Olivia twists her shoulders, “is this where I meet Trevor?”

Cassandra walks towards the door she came in from, waving a hand casually as an invitation to follow her. “We don’t have a Trevor here. The band leader’s name is Peter, for your information.”

Olivia takes one last look at her surroundings before coming along. “Ah, Peter. Of course. What a non-denominational name.”

She hears another laugh as they walk through the door and down the narrow, white-painted hallway. It’s barely enough space to walk side-by-side, but they manage. Occasionally their shoulders brush, and Olivia merely clings tighter to her coat. They go a right, then a left, and then up a flight of steps, until another pair of double doors appears.

Cassandra looks at her with another careful grin before opening only one of them. She holds it for her, and Olivia glances at her with suspicion before walking inside. That suspicion melts into wonder as she enters a library hall. The tall shelves line the walls, only interrupted by tall, square windows. There’s a philodendron hanging off to one side, flourishing. The standalone rows of shelves match the dark wood on the walls. Books upon books fill the rows to the brim, and to the right there are study desks with lamps. The natural light coming in makes it all look like a portal into the 1940s.

She walks in and stomps her heel to a halt, mouth softly agape. Part of her wants to make a wisecrack, like ‘oh, is this where it’s all held before they burn it?’ but the part of her that prevails is curiosity.

“Why did I never see this room when I went here?” she spits out, turning around to face her. She leaning against the door frame, hands still in her pockets.

She shrugs. “It wasn’t here then. A couple years back the Church started housing missionaries, and they needed a place to study and hold meetings. My family is a patron of the Church, so, they helped furnish the renovation.”

“...Helped?”

Cassandra chuckles and steps in. “Alright. Pushed it. It’s one of the few things my family has done with their money that I don’t instinctively despise.”

“Are these all books on religion, then? Like, fifteen hundred different copies of the Bible?” Olivia looks at the closest shelf, trying to figure out for herself, but it’s just far enough for the spine titles to be unreadable.

“Very funny,” Cassandra stops a couple away “but no. They’re a lot of things. Religion, philosophy, law, poetics. Sometimes college and high school students borrow for their classes. I know some of the surrounding neighborhood kids come here to have a quiet place, too. It’s pretty neat.”

That is neat. Damn. Olivia looks at her and for the first time, genuinely smiles. No pretense, no clever quip. Just agreement. She remembers what it was like in the back of Cullen’s car, when they were still just small-talk and half-hearted laughs. That was what, a week ago? It feels like a month has passed.

“Is this where you bring all the ladies, then? To your cool little hideaway with hanging plants in the windows and a bunch of dead Greek men’s opinions at the ready?” She takes a risk in asking that. A gentle tease, but for someone not receptive to such an insinuation, a litmus test.

Cassandra blushes and rolls her lip. While she buffers, Olivia side-steps towards the shelf for a closer look. She lets a finger tug at a book -- something on the Middle Ages something-or-other, all the while her heart hangs on the response Cassandra is denying her. She holds the cover out to examine it, and footfalls sound off behind her.

“I come here to do assignments. Also to get away, if I am being honest,” she finally speaks, and her answer is not a correction to Olivia’s implication. Hopeful results indeed.

“It seems like an ideal hiding place,” she agrees, “does God provide wifi?”

“If God is AT&T, then yes.”

They look at each other, and Olivia quells a laugh in her throat. She has to hand it to her, she has a good sense of humor contrary to her stiff, formal exterior. Perhaps she has underestimated her.

“You know, I can’t really figure you out,” Cassandra changes the subject, thereby sliding the spotlight.

“What?” Olivia peers over her shoulder at her.

“I don’t know,” she frowns neutrally, shaking her shoulders again. “Agh, Nevermind.”

Olivia watches her as she places the book back on the shelf. She goes from exuding cool, some would even say strong-arm confidence, to falling back on her words. If anything, it’s Olivia that is left at a loss for figuring out her companion. But she won’t admit to that. That would mean she’d want to know in the first place. Instead, she swings around with a step and faces her again.

“In uh, in any case, since I see a deficit of weird men and Priests ready to douse me in Holy Water, I think you may have won a bet. So, Cassandra Pentaghast,” Olivia pulls at her dress on either side and makes a mock curtsy. “You have my profound apologies.”

“Thank you. I won’t say it was an easy feat.”

“Hah!” Olivia swings her foot to the left, preparing to walk away. Before she does though, she goes out on a limb and reaches out, taking Cassandra’s hand into hers. “Come on, show me around. There’s gotta be something vaguely socialist in here!” incessant in her teasing, but warmer this time.

Cassandra slouches, her head going back a bit as she grins. But she lets herself get pulled in, and for a moment all goes rosey and Olivia’s heartbeat skips. They’re gonna explore bookshelves, and pick out ones for each other, and argue, and quote excerpts, and somehow they’ll end up on the floor with stacks surrounding them, and someone will offer to order a pizza because hours have passed and they’re suddenly starving. Then they’ll argue over whether pepperoni is better with or without pepper flakes, and she’ll take her shoes off and walk on her toes across the wood. It’s gonna be fantastic, and maybe this once, she won’t sabotage the good time.

But then, A voice calls from the hall. Shit, had she spoken too soon? Was that her plan, to get the bet win and then impose the wrath of the Holy Church?

Cassandra flinches and falls back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her as a man comes in, their hands parting instantly. He’s also dressed head-to-toe in dark slacks, a dress shirt, but with the addition of a belt and polished men’s dress shoes. A man with an aged, calloused face and salt-and-peppered hair. He has sunglasses in his hands and a Rolex-looking watch on his wrist. He steps in imposingly.

“Cassandra. There you are,” he half-scolds, a heavier version of the accent that Cassandra has.

Cassandra’s voice stutters a bit. “Hello, Uncle.”

“Did you get any of my calls? We’re late for dinner. Who is this?” He motions his glasses at Olivia. Before either of them could answer, though, he does. “Wait...I know you. You’re the Sinclair’s daughter...O...Ophelia…?”

“Yes, my name is Olivia, Sir,” she says, disguising her unimpressed attitude with palatable manners. “I’m sorry, it was my fault. I kept Cassandra behind. I needed to return a book.”

Cassandra peers at her in muffled confusion, but does not correct her. Meanwhile, he gives Olivia the once-over, mouth open as he presses his tongue to his lower teeth. Not impressed. She knows all-too-well that face when people realize who she is. It’s no stranger. It still stings though.

“Right, well,” he nods. “Always a pleasure to see those of our flock that have gone wayward make their….necessary, returns.” Condescending prick. “Cassandra, the car is out back. Come on. I’m sure your friend can see herself out, or stay and continue to her...education.”

Olivia can feel the growing heat of resentment stewing beside her, but she keeps her cool.

“Alright, I will be down in a minute. Can I say goodbye at least?” Cassandra manages, calm but displeased.

He shoots her a concerned look, but steps back, clearly not all that invested in the intricacies of his niece’s misadventures when he could admonish her in private. Olivia is all-too-familiar with that method. He waves at her like he’s saying goodbye to a sales clerk or something, and leaves.

“So...that’s…”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh. Can I…”

“You can.”

She mutters in relief. “Asshole.”

Cassandra laughs under her breath and turns toward her. “That’s his thing, I’m sorry. He’s right though. I do have to go. I just…” she rocks back on her heels in a quick-paced rhythm as she bites her lip. “Does this mean I get another shot?”

“Another shot?”

A voice from faraway again. Him, probably saying her name. Cassandra looks but hardly wastes more than a second. “I can’t get into it now. Not here. I just…”

Olivia opens her mouth to say something,but she too struggles to find words. She does her best though, for the sake of reassurance. “I mean, totally. Yeah, we can be friends.”

Friends. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

That’s all that’s needed, though, to make Cassandra grin, and her face beam a little bit more like it had before her Uncle interrupted them. “Good. I’ll text you. Uh, see you soon, then?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Olivia smiles. “Uh, you like hugs?”

“Um...oh, yeah, that’s fine.” They are timid at first. Olivia, oddly enough, opts to wrap her hands around Cassandra’s neck as opposed to the quintessential side-and-shoulder platonic model. It makes her stomach flip as Cassandra wraps her arms around her waist, and even though it lasts no more than a second or two, it’s enough to make her want to know what it’s like for an hour, not just a breath. She smells like that Old Spice. And her grip is so strong and careful at the same time.

And just like that, she’s out of her hold and walking out of the door. Leaving her, alone, in a Church -- in the DEPTHS of a Church -- and she didn’t have to kidnap her to do so. What kind of skills did this girl have up those pressed-and-tailored sleeves of hers?

All by her lonesome, Olivia looks around and then deflates. She goes to her phone and pulls up her fellow oath-keeper’s name, and sees a new message already waiting for her.

--Do I have to rescue you yet?

She giggles to herself, and types. Turns out Ellinor was waiting, and her response is instantaneous:

Olivia: --No. But I’m heading back to campus.

Ellinor: --Everything ok?

Olivia: --Yeah...I think??

Ellinor: --Wait, wtf?!

Olivia: --I’ll talk about it later.

She walks out into the hall, and just as she is about to go downstairs, her phone goes off again. This time, it’s Cassandra:

--Hi. Sorry, but, I have to be in this car for an hour. You have any song suggestions?

She smiles and bites her lip. This is a critical decision. Should she play it cool and send something technically good, but without implicit symbolism? Cassandra seems like the kind of person who likes more easygoing, measured tunes. Not heavy and raw, or dark and doom-wishing. She taps on her phone case for a second, blushes, and pulls up the Spotify link:

--Songs About Jane is always good to revisit. Start with track 12. Good luck!

She then goes to her own app and turns on the track, titled, “Sweetest Goodbye,” and continues her exit with headphones in.

#college au #adventures of ellinor and olivia #friend fic!#ellinor trevelyan #olivia sinclair #modern!olivia

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koganphrancis · 7 years

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Ian Used To Do Better Stuff With Vans OR There’s Another Hour Of My Life I Won’t Get Back

This episode was dumb dumb dumb as fuck-and even more pointless than that. The ONLY redeeming quality in it was that it was completely Terror-free. Read on, if you dare. My recap of Season H8 Episode Dear God Why Isn’t It Over Yet-or 11, if you want to keep it short.

As usual, I’ll get the others out of the way as quickly as I possibly can.

Carl’s still illegally under-aged married, and this week he tells Kasammi, “I don’t think there’s any skin left on my dick.” Yeah, they made that point last year when they had to keep taking it off after his misguided circumcision. Not that the show is referring to THAT, of course. They refuse to acknowledge any plot point that has gone before. He and Kas take a wild tour through his before the show started past and I have no idea what the point is-is it to show us she’s truly insane because none of the horrors of life on the mean streets scare her? Or to show us that Generation Z doesn’t experience reality because their whole lives have been instantly posted on screens of electronic devices? I don’t know and I don’t care-quit trying to be fake deep, Shameless, if you even are. I can’t tell. The only (maybe) pertinent point of Carl’s story this week is he tells Kasammi after her hundredth shit fit on the subject that he won’t go back to military school and in the previews for next week it looks like the family (or at least Frank) will try to help him sneak away to do just that. Yawn.

Debbie loses three toes-Frank chops them off for her. Before that, Debbie is shown signing her 16 year old self out of the hospital-WHAT? She’d need a parent or guardian for that. Anyway, apparently Debbie’s not on any kind of welfare or insurance. And doesn’t know that Ian could’ve gotten the money for her expensive surgery to attempt to save the toes by going down on the old couple just twice. What is it with this show and cutting off toes? They’ve done this before with the body they got to stand in for Aunt Ginger. I’m so sick of the recycled plot points!

Speaking of which-Snore’s old man is out of prison so Lip gets him to fight him to violate his parole and send him back-did this new writer guy not see Yevgeny’s christening episode or is he just really into plagiarism? It was such a fizzle to a going nowhere story to begin with. I think the guy playing Snore’s version of Terry even had some of the same lines but I’m too lazy to rewatch and try to catch them. If we were supposed to hate this guy like we hate Terry, it didn’t work. And Lip was no Mickey showing up to defend people that mean something to him either-it was all a weak as fuck imitation. And it was odd that Lip chose to call the guy out for “beating women” when he lets himself get beaten when he has sex with Eddy. Who the fuck is he to judge? Maybe ten year old Snore didn’t get that her parents were having consensual rough sex that got too violent and ended in death-but the show’s not that deep.

Snore’s telling of her mother’s death once again played like someone complaining about not getting the last bottle of nail polish in their favorite shade at Walgreens or something. If she’s been so traumatized that she can’t put any emotion into the horrific memories that’s fine, but then I would argue that she wouldn’t be terrified of her dad coming after her either. Snore just can’t emote OR imagine what it would be like to be in that setting, I’m sorry.

And here’s what had me super pissed-Snore tells Lip she was 10 when her mom was killed in front of witnesses (Snore and her brother-she specifically says they both testified against him) and her dad’s already out on parole? We don’t know how old Snore is now, but surely no older than 25 (and probably not even that old, but whatever), so the show is saying her dad got out in 15 years max, which is the time Mickey was sentenced to for NOT killing Sammi? Fuck off.

Also, why would the cops not even consider the father’s side of the story that Lip instigated the fight? Lip has Eddy’s niece record the fight on his phone, and after it’s over he goes over to her and asks her how it looks or whatever, and she says Snore’s father threw the first punch. Wouldn’t the cops question why a little girl was filming two men on a porch BEFORE a fight started? Snore’s father must have Mickey’s public defender for a lawyer. Fucking show should’ve shocked us all by having Lip get locked up for premeditated assault.

Fiona meets with a lawyer (Janice from Friends, but she’s not as funny in this, sadly) and as soon as she said Fiona could lose both the apartment building and the Gallagher house I knew that storyline had jumped the shark and somehow next week all will be miraculously fixed-no way will the Gallaghers ever lose the house, that’s another plot point that’s been done to death. At first I was thinking they’ll either come up with some fortuitous traffic camera footage showing that the guy jumped off the roof intentionally, or that Hugh Laurie would show up in a cameo as Dr. House and say that if a man “fell” off a roof that high, he’d have a hell of a lot more damage than one broken ankle, but no, the show isn’t going to even get that clever-they’re just gonna have the family cave and be willing to settle with Fiona if they get custody of her dog that suddenly she’s so worried about in this week’s episode. She’s never shown that level of concern for any of her siblings.

Frank has a tedious, boring couple of scenes about his “retirement plan”-he has a baggie of 3 stolen Social Security cards and anyone can see a mile off that the cards would’ve just been replaced by their original owners-they’re not like a set of fingerprints and you only get one for life and if you lose it someone else has your entire identity. THEN they set up next week’s recycled/stolen plot to have Liam and Frank rip off Liam’s rich friend’s family just like Carl and Frank ripped off Liam and Carl’s gay foster dads-it didn’t work then, it won’t work now (and why didn’t Frank do hard time for that grand theft?).

Svetlana and Vee and Kevin have a scene at a fancy (but not as fancy as the show was trying to tell us it was) bar that was a pathetic echo of both Ian and Mickey’s hotel bar scam AND of how funny the show used to be able to be. Later Svet goes to humble herself to the other hand whore to find out how she snagged a rich fiance and discovers that the dude she’s about to marry is senile as fuck and Svet is going to step in to replace her, which is what I predicted the first time the hand whore showed up. I will give Shameless credit for making me laugh unintentionally-since I’ve been picturing the “old rich dude” Svet was going to wind up with as John Wells’ fantasy version of himself, seeing the old dude in an adult diaper and thinking he’s Wells was very satisfying.

Do I finally get to Ian now? Do I have to talk about his bullshit? There’s a scene of him in bed alone while the newlyweds are having sex in the same room, signalling that he’d rather be there than at Terror’s house, LOL. Then it’s the next morning and he goes down to breakfast with his Bible in hand, but no pills. Is that supposed to be significant? We may never know...

He gets to the “Church Of Gay Jesus” and there’s so many “fans” there it’s like Beatles or One Direction footage. The minister guy gets through the crowd to him with a big young guy and tells Ian the rando is “Bic” and he wants to help (I didn’t know the guy’s name till I saw it in the closing credits, I really thought his name was “Dick” and they were making a “big dick” joke, but no, I guess they were making a “Bic lighter” joke instead). Ian and Bic instantly have more chemistry than Ian and Terror but it’s unintentional I’m sure-the actor playing Bic probably has taken acting classes and knows to look an acting partner in the eye, instantly making him more engaged than Terror’s ever been in a scene.

The minister guy tells Ian, “Your life is no longer your own.” Which first of all, I’m just not buying that all these youths have just been waiting for a messiah to show up and they’ll follow him anywhere, and secondly why was being with Mickey not Ian anymore, but he’ll give away his entire life for strangers? Fuck you, Shameless. (and speaking of his entire life, does he never have to go to work anymore? Also, Fiona turned him down when he asked for a ride to the church-for once she had a good reason, that she had to pick up Debbie-but why is the show acting like Fi does things for him all of the sudden? She DID give him a ride last week, and that was very OOC of her.)

There’s a kid trying to get Ian’s attention-he needs help getting away from his parents who have hired men to get him back. At some point in the proceedings some guys jump out of a van and drag the kid into it. Ian runs to the front of the van before it can pull away and goes all Chris Pratt in Jurassic Park, holding up his arms and not letting it advance. The unintentional humor here amused me no end. Then Ian lays down in front of the van and I actually said aloud to my TV, “Just run him over.” I’m that done with this storyline and this show-just kill Ian off at this point, it’d be a mercy.

Ian’s there on the ground with his arms thrown up over his head (not that the driver could even see him down there, right in front of the van) and we see that this time Shameless didn’t bother covering up Cam’s real life Sailor Moon tattoo. SO LAZY. All the other kids lay down around the van too so it can’t go anywhere The 3 dudes in the van give up and let the kid get out.

The kid is 14 and the minister guy tries to talk sense into Ian, saying the parents have a legal right to their kid and they, more specifically Ian, can’t keep the kid. Ian agrees to talk to the kid’s dad who tells him the parents aren’t bigots, they don’t care that their son’s not heterosexual, but he’s been living on the streets, doing drugs, and prostituting himself. Then the father says, “We believe he may be mentally ill,” and Cameron (and yes, I mean Cameron, not Ian) makes a reaction face to that, but what it means, again, nobody knows.

Ian goes to talk to the kid where they have him hidden away in the Mickey Wedding Venue basement. Ian tells him what the father told him, and the kid says they keep bringing him to a church (is that Ian’s trigger? Churches? and if so, why?), plus they have him see shrinks who have put him on meds that knock him on his ass and he can’t get an erection. He adds, “That’s what they really want-so I can’t have sex with another boy, you know? Ever.” Ian says, “Well you can’t stay here. You have to find someplace where you can be safe, where you can be yourself.” WHAT? I don’t understand. For one thing, isn’t that LITERALLY TERROR’S JOB? To take runaways and provide them with a safe place to stay and a plan to get their lives back on terms that they can live with? I don’t ever want to have to side with Terror, but this episode is basically saying that Terror’s way is right and Ian’s way is oh so wrong and misguided. What the fuck? Secondly, isn’t that what Ian THINKS he’s doing? Why is he telling the kid HE has to find someplace safe? Ian has literally been in this kid’s shoes-he knows there’s no safe places for someone even younger than he was when he got back from the army, living on the streets. Anyway, after Ian’s lines the kid says, “Will you help me?” but Ian doesn’t answer one way or the other.

I totally didn’t get this scene-why the writer had Ian say nothing. I could see if it was to show Ian was getting more and more manic and now is on the downside of that and is becoming too depressed to speak to people-but then where’s his energy for doing anything coming from, plus the story isn’t SAYING he’s manic or depressed, and Cam and John Wells said Ian’s storyline is bold, audacious, great, etc and I don’t think either of them would’ve said those things if the payoff is just going to be that Ian needed his meds adjusted. And why does Ian maybe believe what the kid is saying and not the dad? Again, this IS Ian’s story! Mentally ill, unable to help himself, and unwilling to take his pills! I wondered why Ian didn’t at least give him a version of the Monica “you don’t have to change for them” speech, or his own “you don’t have to fix me because I’m not broken” speech or why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t he tell the kid, “I’ve been exactly where you are-on meds that were supposed to help but made me feel like crap plus I couldn’t get it up-but that’s because they take time-you need to take them to get stable and then you’ll find what works for you and have no problems having sex again (since apparently Ian’s never had an issue since beating Mickey up at the dugouts).” AND the kid’s only 14-does Ian maybe want to advise him that feeling like he needs to be having sex that young to the point where he’s willing to run away and do it with anyone might be part of his symptoms?

Ian COULD be so helpful here, but no. At this point he is literally putting at risk kids at even greater risk.

Later Rando Bic shows Ian that the van’s back behind the church. Ian says, “Get the kid,” like he’s The Penguin and Bic’s his trusty lieutenant. It was so dumb. The kid is used as bait, and when the 3 guys jump out of the van Ian pops up behind the group and starts yelling. “My god’s a faggot! My god’s a dyke! My god is trans, a junkie, a whore!’ Then the van blows up. “We will not be victims!”

What the hell is he on about? That’s a serious question. None of this is making sense. God isn’t human, so Ian giving the Christian god human attributes makes no sense. “We won’t be victims” of WHAT? Gay conversion? This kid’s dad said he isn’t trying to convert his gay son. What is all the yelling and the explosion about? And to get back to the explosion for a moment: That had to be Ian’s brilliant plan, and it just makes me miss Mickey talking him down from stupid shit like that all the more. Bic is the one that actually lights the fire (get it? BIC?) but how did they even know that all 3 guys would get out of the van this time? Based on the first failed attempt to drive off with the kid, wouldn’t it make more sense that one of the guys would stay at the wheel and keep the van running and they’d take off the minute they shoved the kid inside before all of Ian’s disciples could block it again? Before I rewatched the scene this morning I actually wondered if the story is going to be Ian is guilty of killing one of the guys, but then I saw it again and all 3 did get out-but I still don’t think Bic could’ve seen them from where he snuck around to light it up. And I bet we don’t see Bic again-he was randomly thrown in because of course Terror wouldn’t have helped Ian carry out any plan that wasn’t his own. But it’s funny that they couldn’t have him in the episode because everyone, even the shitty writers, know there’s no way Terror could talk Ian out of it like Mickey would be able to.

In the scenes for next week, Terror shows up and asks, “Is Ian around?” and Debbie answers, “He’s not here.” Terror says, “There’s a warrant out for his arrest.” Wouldn’t the cops have gone to Ian’s house FIRST? Where would they have even found Terror to be asking about Ian since Ian doesn’t officially work for the Youth Center or the Church of Gay Jesus. More lazy writing, can’t wait for the whimpering end to this crapfest of a season.

#Spoilers #Recap #Season H8 Episode 11 #Disco isn't dead but that van sure is #Ian had his first Mickey kiss in a van #Ian gave Mickey a Spiderman kiss in a van after a night of fucking fantastic sex #In a van #Ian should know to show a van respect

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notanotherlovepage · 7 years

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LiS fanfic

Hey guys! So, long story short, i did a fanfiction inspired on this post. Hope you guys like it!

MAXINE - 12 YEARS OLD

Today was particularly a sunny, beautiful day. Ninety degrees outside, midst August and every color seemed to be intensified. The leaves on the trees were greener, the sky was bluer and the butterflies shined with their brightest colors.

I resented my mom for having me put a long-sleeved shirt on, and i envied Chloe for her obviously lighter -and prettier- one. Besides, it was embarassing having two big spots of sweat covering my armpits. But i didn’t care. Not if it was my best friend in the whole world next to me. She wouldn’t judge me.

-Come on, Max! Hurry!- I heard Chloe shout. She was some solid 15 feets ahead of me. We were heading towards the big tree. That’s where we hid our time capsule. It was a centric, giant tree placed in the Arcadia Bay forest. It was our place. The place we told eachother every secret, gossip and deepest confessions. And now we were going to dig out the capsule we hid 5 years ago.

We were actually cheating; we promised ourselves we would only see it 10 years after the day we buried it. That would be at age eighteen. When we were eight years old, we decided to make our friendship last forever in the coolest way. We hid a bunch of letters, drawings and others stuff for us to see later on. That way we were forced to come back from wherever we were and join pirate forces to dig out the most awesome treasure ever. But we couldn’t help it. Neither of us remembered what we put in there and we were dying to know.

-This is so wrong but feels so right- i said chuckling, already catching up with Chloe.

-I know, right?! - She said, clearly excited, doing that adorable bouncing she does when she’s hyped up. Chloe was particularly... pretty today. Her long, blond hair was shinning, as if it belonged to some shampoo comercial, waving synchronized with the wind. She always grew these funny freckles all over her nose and cheeks every summer, which made her look like a model, and her blue eyes shined amazingly bright, reflecting the sunlight. Sometimes i didn’t know if it was jealousy i felt every time i looked at her, or just pure... admiration. Whatever it was, it always felt just right.

-Okay, we’re here,- Chloe said- let’s just cut the crap and see whatever in the world is there.

I realized i was stupidly nervous by the whole thing. My heart was rapidly pounding in my chest and my hands were sweating, but i didn’t care. It was the good kind of nervous.

-I’m actually really nervous- Chloe said, as if she had read my mind.

-Dude, me too- I responded, with an akward laugh.

-Let’s do this- Chloe picked the shovels next to her and handed me one- Now, you lazy ass, show me watcha’ got.

MAXINE - 18 YEARS OLD

-Okay...-I breathed out- let’s do this.

I was sitting in my dorm bed at Blackwell, looking at a photo I had forgotten it even existed. Actually, i had deleted the entire day in which the photo was taken from my brain, although it was kind of a “big deal”. It was the day Chloe and i buried the time-capsule.

It had been two weeks since Chloe’s funeral. Jefferson was in jail, Nathan was in a psychiatric hospital, with a restriction order to keep his asshole father away from him, and Kate and Victoria were alive. Everything had fallen into place. Every piece of this life puzzle was starting to click again.

Except for me.

This wasn’t like any cringy, sugarcoated movie i had ever watched before. This wasn’t some tragic novel about life being a bitch. This wasn’t like anything i had ever heard or seen. This was so much worse.

The first three days i was in denial. I never actually stopped to think Chloe’s death was forever. I was like a zombie, or in autopilot mode. I even smiled an laughed. I just couldn’t accept it.

But one day i went to the Two Whales, and found myself having my pancakes all alone, and i didn’t see Joyce there because from what David told me, she couldn’t get out of bed, and there was barely any client there because the fucking place smelled like tragedy and pain. And then it hit me.

Chloe is dead.

I never knew it was possible to feel this kind of pain and not die. Or have a heart attack. Or just for nothing to occur. I just felt this horrible sensation, all the goddamn time, but nothing else seemed to happen. There was just pain and the only thing i had left to do was feel it.

I mean, pain is supposed to be some kind of body mechanism to warn you about danger. If you accidentally fall from a tree and break your arm or cut your leg your body makes you feel pain, so you know something is not right with you and you should take care of it. But suddenly your best friend and soulmate in the fucking world dies and you feel this unbearable pain in your chest, way worse than a fucking broken arm, and you would give anything for that so called god everyone assures it exists to just break every single bone in your body if it meant not feeling this, and everything feels so wrong and you feel like you are going to die all the time but the worst part is you don’t, and you are expected to just get over it? How can this kind of pain not mean im in danger? That i’m not going to just stop breathing anytime? How can physical pain mean so much while emotional pain just means you suffered a stupid trauma that you can get through? That nothing is actually wrong? That the love of your life died but you will be ‘just fine’? How can people say that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?

Because to me, what doesn’t kill you makes you wish it fucking did.

Sitting at the dinner, thinking all of this in one goddamn second, as if a brainstorm had just hit my head, made me realize; i was not living in a world without Chloe. Either both of us lived here... or both of us went up there.

I suddenly understood Kate so much more once i started planning it. See, if you don’t live it, you don’t get it, it’s as simple as that. You just can’t understand what depression is like if you never went through it, no matter how hard you try. That’s what happened to me on the rooftop with Kate. As much as i tried, i was just not able to understand how could people consider taking their own lives. Isn’t there always hope? Always someone who loves you? Always something to live for?

Thing is, sometimes, there’s not.

It just hit me like a train. I didn’t even care. I couldn’t. It would destroy my parents, Kate, Warren, even Joyce, but i didn’t have the energy to give a fuck. I was so hopeless. Everything was so pointless. I really don’t know if it was depression i was suffering, but it sure as hell felt like it.

I had decided to binge on the pills the doctor gave me for Post Traumatic Disorder. I heard they were pretty strong, so i was pretty confident they would do the job. But then i saw the box Joyce gave me at the Two Whales, resting in the corner of my room; it was Chloe’s box, with every single memory she had ever owned. Pictures, letters, postcards, everything. I had put it away to rot; i just couldn’t look at it without falling into pieces. But at that moment, i figured i might as well see what was in there; i wanted my last memories to relive those of the love of my life.

I don’t remember crying like i did then in a long time, if not ever. I was pretty sure i was starting to dehidratate, and at some point, i even thought i was going to faint. There was that awful drawing i sent her when she had chickenpox. There was a silly love letter i remember her neighbour wrote her when we were ten years old. Chloe never liked him and after five letters like that with no response, he finally got the hint and never spoke to her again. But what shattered my heart the most was this pink sea shell. I found it on a beach in Playa del Carmen; my parents and i took a cruise for two weeks and i promised Chloe i would collect one for each day we spent apart, so she knew i wouldn’t forget her. All of them eventually broke into pieces except for this one. I painted it with a cheap pink nail polish my mom used to own and gave it to her. We were seven years old. I never knew she would keep it to this day, it seemed so redundant and useless to me, but so meaningful to her...

I was not sure how much more i could take, but then, i found the photo. The time-capsule photo.

The memories suddenly hit me as a punch in the face. It was as if some kind of hipnosis suddenly unleashed from that picture to free the memories that had been so long repressed. I remember that our parents took us on a silly journey through the Arcadia Bay forest. It lasted 5 days. My mom absolutely hated camping in the ‘wilds’, but my father and William did a great job calming her down. One week earlier, Chloe and i decided to secretly bury a time capsule in which we hid some stuff to open up in ten years, which would ironically be this year, at age eighteen. But we opened it five years before, us being twelve, because we couldn’t help ourselves. We opened it two months before William passed away.. It was the last good moment we had until everything started falling apart for Chloe.

My parents took a picture Chloe and me in our pirate costumes, right before we went for the giant tree and hid the capsule. I don’t really remember what we hid in it, but it was probably silly. I’m actually glad we opened it up earlier. Today, it would only be some silly kid stuff.

I looked at the picture with a nostalgic, genuine smile, without realising i was crying again until some droplets hit the picture. But suddenly, one droplet fell on the wrong -or right?- place. And as i looked, i stood in shock.

-What... the hell?- i exclaimed. I frowned my eyebrows and rubbed my eyes to get a better view of the picture, and then, i saw it. It felt as if i was suddenly stang by a paralising bug. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t believe what i was seeing. It just felt as if the nightmare would never stop. I started sobbing and yelling. I was pulling my hair without realizing it. I didn’t give a crap of all the fuzz i was making. In the picture, right behind us, was a translucent doe, staring right at the camera, with a tiny beautiful blue butterfly resting in his snout.

After some minutes of pure desesperation and chaos, i decided to calm myself down. I was getting nowhere being like this. Fucking hell, a few minutes ago i was all ready to kill myself. What was going on with me? Was i hallucinating? Had i finally lost it? Was i officially crazy?

-Okay, Max. Calm the fuck down- I said out loud- Let’s think, what the hell does this mean?

As if my voice was like a ridiculous lullaby, i did calm down. I took a few breaths, and started to think.

First of all, if anything, this could be good news. If shit like this keeps happening after Chloe died, could this mean the universe was still not content with the outcome of things? Could this mean that life, or god, or what-fucking-ever did not want Chloe to die? Was Chloe not supposed to die?

A feeling i had not felt in two weeks, but seemed like forever, started growing in my chest. I was feeling hope. Hope that my best friend could maybe, just maybe, be brought back. Hope that i would be able to kiss my lover again. Hope that maybe, life was not as miserable as it seemed.

Calm down, Maxine. I thought to myself. This is still not clicking.

I spent some good hour going through all of it. Thinking of everything i could have missed. Every detail, every second i spent with Chloe. Every goddamn tragedy of that unholy week. What was i taking for granted? What was the universe trying to tell me? Was it even trying to tell me something? Was life just... weird?

And then it clicked. The puzzle clicked. That fucking piece found it’s place in all of this drama and everything suddenly made sense. All this time, i made everything revolve around me. It seems fair, as i am the one with a crazy fucking superpower. But what if it’s... not? What if it’s not about me? I may be one in a million, being able to control the fucking time, but the universe is sure as hell not only about my life, so... what if i am missing a detail because im not supposed to know that detail? What if it’s not my life i should change, but someone elses? What if i have been searching for the answer in that horrible week when in fact it came from... before?

What if it’s not Chloe that’s supposed to die? What if... it’s Rachel that’s supposed to live?

I realised i had been starring at the mirror with the picture in my hands all of the time i spent thinking. I almost saw the switch in my eyes as i finally made the decision; i would try to make things right one last time. After all, i had nothing left to lose.

I focused on the picture, sitting in my bed, as all the familiar but still weird-as-hell feelings started to hit once again; the pounding in my head, the blurr in my eyes, the sensation of passing out, the world menacing to tremble... and just like that, i was back in the forest.

MAXINE - 8 YEARS OLD

The first thing i did was to look for the doe and the butterfly. As i expected, they were not there. Being 12 years old at Chloe’s house, back when i tried to save William, was weird enough, but being eight felt so... wrong. I was an eighteen years old in the body of a little girl. I could actually feel the physical change; my hands and feet felt tinier, my skin felt softer, and it seemed to me that i was on my knees when i looked around, when in fact, i was just shorter.

-Max, sweetie, are you okay?- my mom asked. As there was no response, she continued- Come here baby, you look pale. Do you want some chocolate?- She turned to look at my father- What did i tell you, Ryan? This was such a bad idea, we shouldn’t have come.

-Wait, mommy! I’m okay!- I cringed at how high-pitched my voice was, but managed to fake a smile.

-Are you sure, baby?- Dad asked.

-Of course she’s okay! She’s a pirate! Right, Max?- I heard a little girl’s voice say. I knew exactly who that voice was from, but i needed to really see it. I just couldn’t start to even comprehend how lucky i was. To have the ability to see what i shouldn’t be seeing. To defy the universe, just like that. To be able to appreciate the existence of the love of my life as many times as i wanted to. To love her and be able to tell her again and again, without the fear of time running out. Because time meant nothing to me. I owned time, and it made me feel incredibly alive. It was so wrong but so right. And when i finally turned around to see her, i realized life was just fucking incredible for creating such amazing and lovable beings like her, no matter how temporary they were.

-Chloe!- I shouted, and ran to her embrace- You are my best friend, did you know that?

-Of course i do! We will rule the world with our swords and patches, right, Dad?!

-Sure thing darling. I believe in you two- William said with a soothing voice. Only then did i realize how much i had missed him. But i needed to calm my nostalgic self down. I had to start acting like an eight year old, and they were never really that great at showing mature feelings. Besides, it would be just plain weird to hug William out of the blue. Sadly, no one there but me knew how little time had he left- Okay girls, ready for the walk?- He said with a playful smile, letting go a tiny wink from his left eye. I understood this was the sign Chloe, William and i had agreed on to go bury the time-capsule- Everything ready?

-Yes dad!- Chloe shouted- Let me just get my backpack- She said, while turning back to head the tents.

-Wait! i need to go get something too- I jumped. I saw Chloe turning around to face us once again, this time with a frown. I guess we agreed at some time that she would get the capsule while i kept the adults busy- It will be just a second.

-Okay...- Chloe replied.

-What would you two be up to...- Joyce whispered suspiciously, with a grin on her face, shaking her head left and right. I followed Chloe to the tent and entered with her.

-Please tell me you brought some paper and crayons- I said nervously. My heart started to accelerate as my brain finally focused on my plan.

-Yeah... i think so. Why?- she asked, half curious, half worried.

-I just forgot something i wanted to draw.

-Okay, let me check- Chloe said, revolving her backpack, and then taking out what i had requested- You are being kind of weird.

-Don’t worry, it’s just a second- I replied- No peeking!- I said, smiling at her while hiding my paper so she couldn’t see. This time, the smile was genuine. I could never fake-smile that adorable face of hers, even if i tried.

And then she was the one to smile. A wide, playful smile, covered childishly by her tiny hands, followed by a girly, amazingly cute chuckle.

Suddenly, i was just overwhelmed by this relaxing but exciting feeling, as i started drawing my message to the future Max, in the hope that this time, she would remember it and be able to fix things from the very start. I just kind of knew that this time, things would turn out to be alright.

MAXINE - 12 YEARS OLD

-Oh my god, this is so cringy, i really dont know how much more i can take- I said, tears of laughter falling from my eyes.

-Dude, i know, i think i’m gonna throw up anytime now- Chloe responded, with her cheeks filled with an intense red, grabbing her tummy and gasping for air, trying to regain control of herself.

We had spent hours now checking everything out. We found two chocolate cookies that smelled awful, two drawings that looked exactly the same -probably both of us agreed to draw the same scenario- of Chloe and me dressed as pirates while navigating the sea, two coins, two bracelets, a pink one and a blue one, and so on. We also found letters we wrote to eachother, barely legibles, about how much we loved eachother and that how we would be the best pirate friends in the whole world, which made us gag on the outside but smile warmly on the inside. There were only two more letters to read, each one with our names respectively signed on them. We understood they were letters we wrote to our future selves. I picked them both and read them to myself.

-How about mine? What did I write?- Chloe asked, excited.

-You were really funny- I responded with a tiny chuckle. It said, written with a blue crayon; ‘Dear Chloe, if you are not dressed up as a pirate right now, and Max is right next to you, tell her to punch you. Love, Chloe’. It was just so incredible to know Chloe was, is and would always be this funny and sassy person. But the best of all, was knowing that this person would always be my best friend in the world, and i was gonna be hers. I handed it to her, and when she read it, she started to laugh like crazy. Joining her laugh, i picked my letter, and gave it a quick, uninterested look. But that was all it took to send a chill down my spine- Mine was so serious...- I let out, failing to keep the thought to myself.

-Well, yeah, that’s you- Chloe reasoned, when i lended it to her and she saw it, not giving it its spooky credit- Serious and genuine- She smiled.

-Yeah, i guess- I said, but was left more nervous and anxious than i was willing to admit.

-Okay, mom is totally gonna kill us- Chloe suddenly exclaimed, zonning me out from my thoughts- We told her we would be there by five! Its half past six! Shit, let’s hurry- She said, getting up to her feet and starting to pack our things.

I followed her lead and helped myself up with my hands on the ground, to start helping her pick up the stuff. Once we were finished, i decided to take one last look at my letter, in the hope that it wouldn’t seem so creepy once i re-checked it.

It was the drawing of a girl, apparently older than us, with long, blond hair, seemingly waving with a fictional wind. At first it thought it was just a drawing of Chloe, but her eyes were green, and she was not dressed like Chloe at all. She had a red flannel, a pair of teared up jeans and some black boots. Besides, Chloe never got her ears pierced, and this girl had a blue feather hanging from one of hers. I found it strange how my eight year old self could draw such a realistic girl. I was never that good with crayons.

But what made me skip a heart beat was what it said below the girl. It was a simple sentence in capitals but had enough impact on me. It said ‘SAVE HER’.

#lis #lis bts #lis 2 #lis before the storm #life is strange 2 #life is strange #life is strange bts #life is strange before the storm #chloe price #max caulfield #amberprice #pricefield #rachel amber #nathan prescott #Kate marsh #victoria chase #Mark Jefferson #frank bowers #warren graham

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